I loaded the Mysticism panel.

With the items from the transaction mostly sorted out, Richard still had two questions to ask.

He put his hands together on the edge of the table.

"Does anyone know any reliable sources for obtaining *Hymenops hygroscopicus* and *Dryopteris silences*?"

Prometheus was the first to react.

"The multi-eyed black moss can be collected in the nearshore transition zone."

The voice beneath the crimson mask was neither hurried nor slow.

"There is a 'Natural Sample Allocation Station' on the north side of Manchester, which is under the Royal Botanical Society."

It's nominally intended for scholars of natural history to purchase specimens, but people outside the field can also buy them; all that's required is registration.

"The multi-eyed black moss is classified as 'Moss Category - Abnormal Group' over there, and the price isn't too expensive."

Richard memorized this point.

"What about the Silent Fern?"

Prometheus did not immediately report the incident.

The crimson mask tilted slightly toward the main seat, making sure Hecate didn't intend to interrupt, before turning back.

"My advice to you is... don't look for this ingredient in the near future."

Richard awaits the next installment.

"The Silent Fern has reached the edge of the Deep."

"The few lines it can buy on the ground are backed by several different networks, each with its own stance."

There are legitimate guilds, there are middlemen who operate in a semi-legal manner, and there are... those at an even lower level.

"Cult members use the Silent Fern most aggressively."

Banning living people, rewriting real names, and performing rituals that shift the blame onto others—all rely on it.

Richard frowned.

The cost is shifted onto others.

This sentence perfectly captures the very deduction he had been working on repeatedly, yet never dared to put on paper.

"Someone went to the shadowy channels to inquire about the Silent Fern..."

Prometheus did not continue.

Inquiring about the Silent Fern will most likely be remembered by one of the several networks, and what will happen after that is known to everyone at the table.

"Understood." Richard swallowed back the follow-up questions he had prepared.

Nemesis took over the topic.

"If you must use the Silent Fern, you can find an alternative."

"An alternative?"

"In the tradition of hunting the moon, there is a herb called mist bell."

"Mistbell grows on the edge of the old battlefield in the highlands. It is similar in nature to Silent Fern and can withstand most sealing and barrier spells for a while."

"The Silent Fern takes the path of 'making the target unable to hear and being isolated'."

Fogbell takes the path of "swallowing sound."

Nemesis's explanation was very brief.

"Both paths lead to the same destination, and they're pretty much the same for both, except the banning effect will be less."

She added the most important thing.

"This thing isn't cheap, but it's not as rare as the Silent Fern, so it's widely available in the general public."

Richard thanked him sincerely.

The original version of the silencing technique uses multi-eyed black moss paired with silent fern.

He now has a legitimate place to buy the multi-eyed black moss, and for now, he'll use the fog bells to prop up the silent fern.

Although the effect will be less than ideal, it's still better than handing your name over to those few websites.

"There's one last question."

He glanced up and scanned the entire table.

"Does anyone have any legitimate channels for the distribution of rare items that they can recommend?"

Ares spread his remaining right hand, and a short, sharp sound escaped from under his bronze mask, which could be considered a laugh.

"As for strange objects... Hermes, you've asked the wrong person."

"How so?"

"The real rare items are hard currency; they're snapped up as soon as they appear on the market."

The man lifted the purse containing the Sovereign's money bag, and the gold coins inside made a dull thud.

"There's only one way for us to reliably accumulate rare items."

He would go out on missions himself, smuggling items from haunted places, altars, or from the hands of his dead colleagues.

He raised his empty left shoulder.

"You've seen the price you paid."

Prometheus spoke of a broader channel.

"Besides going out on fieldwork, I also go to various oddity markets to compete with other people."

Occasionally, there are some internal auctions in the capital, which are listed under the names of a few old auction houses.

Those who can get in need have connections, and even after getting in, they have to spend real money. Even a moderately rare item has a starting bid of three figures.

Richard asked, somewhat unwillingly, "Isn't there a chance to snag a bargain?"

Prometheus nodded:

Opportunities to snag a bargain... exist, but are extremely rare.

Usually, something is mistakenly identified as a common antique and falls into the hands of someone who doesn't know its value; you only hear about this a handful of times a year.

Richard nodded silently.

This information basically matches the tricks he had figured out over the past six months.

He recalled that he had first bought two items, a copper coin and an incense burner, for ten pounds at Donald's antique shop on Flower Moon Street.

Without his grandfather Gerald's letter of introduction, he wouldn't have been able to even get into Donald's back room.

Ultimately, the path to acquiring rare items depends on one's background, luck, or the ability to seek fortune through risk.

"Thank you all for your guidance." He stopped there, not wanting to dwell on the matter any longer.

Hecate finally stirred in the main seat.

Beneath the mask of the Three-Phase Goddess, the two overlapping eyes fell together on the spoils that had already been divided in the center of the table.

"The transaction is now concluded."

The three voices overlapped, and listening to them for too long sent chills down one's spine.

"Next, let's share the intelligence as usual."

Before anyone could speak, Ares pressed his remaining right hand down on the table.

"Then I'll share my experience this time to give you all a heads-up."

He went to the Ashes, lost an arm, but also gained a lot of information.

"The publicly released information categorizes the threat of the Ash Belt broadly as a 'high-risk evil entity group'."

"But what I saw in person this time was that things had already begun to subtly change."

"Those evil things are becoming more and more organized."

Hecate's knuckles stopped on the armrest of the main seat.

"There is a hierarchy and command structure, with specific personnel responsible for defense and those responsible for pursuit, all clearly defined."

Ares swayed his empty left shoulder.

"What still sends chills down my spine when I think about it is... they have a whole set of ways to counter the conventional spells we use."

"It worked when I used the enchanted knife on the first one, but it gradually got used to my attack rhythm when I used it on the second and third ones."

"It wasn't until later that I realized the first one was just there to test my skills."

His voice trailed off again at this point.

"My two brothers... were ambushed and killed by a squad."

They first deployed a few weaker ones to deplete our ethereal and enchanted ammo, and only after we ran out of ammo did the real squad flank us from behind.

No one at the table responded.

Even Hecate showed a hint of surprise.

"According to the information I have, the Ash Belt is just a relatively large 'high-concentration ether zone'."

She said, "The concentration is high, so the density of evil spirits is high, and they hatch quickly, that's all."

"If there truly are organized, intelligent beings..."

Of the three voices, the old woman's voice sounded a bit somber.

"That shows that we have a significant gap in our understanding of that area."

Prometheus then began to recount his intelligence.

"In the past year, three colonies in the New World have experienced a precipitous drop in population, without war or plague."

All three are located on the inland edge, in small towns that have only been established for a few years.

The official report stated it was due to "population outflow," saying that people couldn't make a living there and migrated to coastal cities.

"According to the internal data I have... he disappeared; he just vanished."

"The house is still there, the furniture is neatly arranged, and the clothes are folded in boxes."

The pot on the stove still contained leftover, moldy stew.

"The person is gone."

Richard recalled the news articles he had seen on the library's bulletin board.

The missing expeditionary force, the captain of the HMS Gloucester who died suddenly in a hotel, and the Admiralty's repeated delays in recruiting a rescue team.

Each piece of news, taken individually, is just ordinary bad news; when strung together, they form a web that is closing in.

Nemesis also shared some related intelligence.

"In the northern Gaelic Highlands, the number of 'floating' evil creatures, as counted internally by the guild, has increased by about 30% in the past six months."

"Flow?" Ares asked.

"They do not exhibit normal territorial behavior," Nemesis replied.

"A normal lower-level evil creature will guard a weak point and will not easily move its nest."

This group is different; they don't have a fixed habitat and keep heading south.

"It seems like it was driven down from the north by something."

"After they were driven down, they did not dissipate naturally. Instead, they moved southward in sections, following the old weak points."

"Move towards the industrial zone."

Prometheus narrowed his eyes.

"The weak points in the southern industrial belt are growing, while the northern ones are being driven down by some force and filled in to the south."

The crimson mask slowly rose, facing Nemesis.

"These two things are now connected."

It was Richard's turn.

The matter of the mining area in the western suburbs cannot be discussed.

But he had accumulated a whole winter's worth of deductions, and there just happened to be a piece that was neither too relevant nor too problematic, yet it connected to the previous paragraphs.

"I'll give you a deduction," he began.

"Industrial cities themselves may be reshaping the weaknesses of the curtain."

The eyes of everyone at the table turned to look.

"Traditional weaknesses—forests, rivers, mountaintops, isolated islands, ancient sacrificial sites… these are naturally formed, gradually formed by hundreds or thousands of years of death and rituals."

Richard gestured an area on the table.

"But in the past century, many new things have emerged."

"The chimneys of large-scale factories are constantly emitting smog into the sky."

The area is a high-incidence zone of industrial accidents where workers have gathered and died: collapsed mines, burning textile factories, and workshops where boilers have exploded.

Beneath the city lies a vast, interconnected network of sewers, and within the mining areas lie abandoned old tunnels that no one bothers to fill in.

For each item he announced, a specific image was formed in the minds of those present.

"These places are accumulating death, fear, and etheric pollution at an unprecedented rate."

"If my reasoning holds true, then the sealing work will also need to be updated in the future."

The maintenance manual we have is written entirely around natural weaknesses.

How do you seal off a forest? How do you seal off a river? How do you seal off a mountaintop? Not a single page teaches you how to seal off a factory that's still running.

Hecate listened in silence for a long while afterward.

"Hermes, you've hit the nail on the head."

She raised her hand and gently tapped the top of the armrest of the main seat.

"Times are changing, and factories, mines, railways, ships... are being built on the earth year after year into the world."

The appearance of death is changing, the appearance of fear is changing, and the way people come together is changing.

"The thin part on this side of the curtain is, in the final analysis, a shadow that has been created by someone."

The old woman's face slowly darkened.

"When a person changes, their shadow naturally changes as well."

"Scholars have made similar claims in internal publications decades ago."

"...However, most of those articles were suppressed and never entered the mainstream academic community."

"The reason is simple: if we follow this line of reasoning, the entire sealing system, which is based on natural weaknesses, will have to be completely overhauled from the ground up."

"The cost is too high, and no faction is willing to expose it voluntarily."

The mask of the Three-Phase Goddess slowly turned around, scanning each person on the table.

"But everyone here today has noticed something unusual around them."

In Hecate's words, the four things automatically formed a line.

From the Ashes to the New World, from the Gaelic Highlands to the Imperial industrial heartland.

It covers almost every level that people can access.

Hecate placed her hands on the table.

"I'll say something else, so you all know what I mean."

"...The Old World is about to go to war."

The moment those words were spoken, everyone's expression changed.

War is something that affects the very sky above countless people in the world.