Night had fully fallen over Vulcan Town. In the forest to the west, the air was thick with the iron stench of blood.

  The ambushed party—those who had come to the rendezvous—now y strewn across the forest floor, riddled with bullets. The only survivor, their leader, had been shot multiple times. His attempts to fight back were cut short when the Hunter squad captain, Gregor, intercepted him.

  Gregor's short bde was now lodged deep inside the man's mouth.

  “Guh... ah...”

  Eyes bulging with bloodlust, his face twisted in rage and defiance, the man struggled to strike back at the officer beside him. But Gregor was already one step ahead. With a sharp tug, he dragged the bde sideways through the man’s mouth.

  Slice—

  The lower jaw came clean off.

  A gush of blood erupted from the exposed neck, painting the earth crimson as the man let out a gurgling, inhuman cry and toppled to the ground, twitching violently.

  Gregor shook the blood from his bde, casting a cold, contemptuous gnce at the convulsing figure at his feet. Just as he began to sheathe his sword, a faint rustle from the nearby underbrush made him freeze.

  “Who’s there?”

  Without hesitation, he hurled his still-bloody short sword toward the source of the sound.

  The bde disappeared into the bushes—no cry of pain, no reaction at all.

  ‘Did I miss?’

  ‘Or was it nothing to begin with?’

  Gregor frowned, but before he could dwell on it, something impossible happened.

  The man at his feet began to stand up.

  Slowly. Gruesomely.

  His lower jaw was gone. A grotesquely long tongue now lolled out from the top of his throat, hanging like wet rope. The neatly severed esophagus was visible inside the yawning maw, and his neck was still pumping out blood like a fountain.

  It was a scene torn straight from a horror movie.

  And yet… he was alive.

  The mangled man groaned, issuing a garbled snarl from his ruined throat, and lunged at Gregor with outstretched hands.

  “What the—?!”

  Snapping back to attention, Gregor barely managed to dodge to the side—but not fast enough. The monster’s hand scraped across his face, tearing off the iron mask that concealed it.

  “GRAAAAHHH!!”

  The guttural roar that followed was beyond human. Unable to form words, the beast raised its second hand and aimed it at Gregor’s now-exposed face.

  BANG!

  A thunderous gunshot echoed through the woods.

  The head of the grotesque figure erupted like a rotten melon. Bone and brain matter spttered across the clearing—and onto Gregor, who flinched as gore drenched his uniform.

  The man finally colpsed, this time for good. His body went limp and sprawled backward, unmoving.

  Not far away, a Hunter stood with her rifle still raised, the barrel wreathed in fading smoke. Her silhouette was distinctly feminine.

  “Careless as ever, Gregor,” she said coolly. “You know you have to hit the core. The ‘Craver’ of the Blood Chalice won’t go down so easily otherwise.”

  “Ugh... sorry, Elena. I was actually trying to leave him alive for interrogation, but… my attention slipped. Gave him a bit too much of a window.”

  Gregor exhaled sharply, visibly disgusted at the gore on him. He turned toward the woman—Elena—and offered a tired expnation. She tilted her head slightly, her tone turning curious.

  “Your attention slipped?”

  “Yeah…”

  Still muttering, Gregor strode toward the bushes where he had heard the sound earlier. He pulled back the leaves—only to find the short sword embedded in the soil.

  Nothing else.

  “A false arm?”

  He yanked the bde free. It still dripped with blood, but it had hit nothing else.

  With a quiet sigh, he sheathed the weapon and turned toward the other Search Hunters spread out among the trees.

  “Clean up the scene. We're heading back to Igwynt.”

  . . . . . .

  At the edge of the western woods, on the outskirts of Vulcan Town, a silver-haired girl sat atop a stone, her expression calm and focused. Her eyes were closed, as though deep in thought or meditation.

  Suddenly, there was movement behind her.

  From the dense forest, a massive bck dog emerged. Its body was riddled with old wounds and scars, its movements nimble despite being clearly lifeless.

  It carried a briefcase in its mouth.

  The dog padded over to the stone and crouched beside it. The girl—Dorothy—opened her eyes and quietly hopped down to the ground.

  “You’ve done so well… Good boy.”

  Dorothy spoke softly, a gentle smile tugging at her lips as she patted the head of the massive bck dog before her. In response, the creature obediently opened its jaw and id the suitcase it had been carrying at her feet.

  “Now... rest.”

  Gazing down at the beast—its body riddled with scars and wounds—Dorothy caressed the ring on her finger and whispered. The moment the words left her lips, the bck dog colpsed. Its remaining strength faded like smoke in the wind, and it crumpled to the forest floor without a sound.

  It was never truly alive to begin with.

  This creature was a corpse—a reanimated puppet under Dorothy’s control. Its origin? Edrick’s private collection, hidden within his residence in Vulcan Town.

  Earlier that day, Dorothy had located Edrick’s home using a key she had found on his body. Upon entering, she was greeted by a grisly sight—dozens of corpses, not just animals but humans as well, neatly preserved and stored.

  It was clear that Edrick, the previous owner of the Corpse Marionette Ring, had conducted extensive experimentation on its powers.

  His home had been more of a boratory than a residence. Dozens of spare corpses lined the walls, and notebooks filled with meticulous observations y scattered on his desk. All of it was centered around one object—the ring.

  From these notes, Dorothy learned a great deal.

  The Corpse Marionette Ring was something Edrick had discovered in a secondhand market, a dusty relic that he happened upon by chance. Upon realizing its true capabilities, he had begun testing it relentlessly.

  According to the notes:

  The ring could control up to two corpses simultaneously.

  It had an effective radius of approximately three kilometers.

  If a corpse's sensory organs were intact, the user could share its senses—seeing through its eyes, hearing through its ears.

  Moreover, the ring granted mild preservative effects. As long as a corpse remained under its influence, it would not decay.

  The bck dog before Dorothy had once been one of Edrick’s prized specimens.

  And today, it had served its final purpose—to infiltrate the chaos between the mysterious organization and the Serenity Bureau, and quietly retrieve something of immense value.

  Because of course, Dorothy had no intention of sitting on the sidelines. This entire incident had been carefully orchestrated by her own hands. She had written the script and pulled the strings. And now, she would cim her prize.

  That prize?

  The "reward" that the secret organization had promised Edrick—a token that, once delivered, would allow him to step into the realm of the Extraordinary and earn a pce among their ranks.

  Now, that reward sat quietly inside the suitcase at her feet.

  But that wasn't the only thing Dorothy had gained tonight.

  As she lifted the case and looked one st time at the dog’s lifeless body, her gaze settled on a wound near the creature’s lower back.

  Unlike the others, this wound was fresh—still bleeding slightly.

  She knew exactly how it got there.

  A thrown short sword, unched from outside the thicket just moments before the dog escaped.

  Her fingers tightened slightly around the case’s handle.

  “Looks like you’ve done quite well for yourself in the city these past few years, haven’t you… Brother Gregor?”

  Zaztra_Vandesh