I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Before the battle, Richard went home.

Wentworth has used its official connections to shut down all its factories in the North District.

The reason given was a notice from the branch office:

A strike in the western part of the city has created a tense situation, leading to a shutdown of factories in the area for the past few days and the evacuation of workers.

Rogers looked very unhappy when he got home.

"Why stop work for no reason?"

He hung his hat on a nail on the wall.

"The blueprints are just one final check."

"Dad." Richard poured his father a glass of hot water.

"These next few days, you should take Mom and Evelyn to the shelter for a while."

"What are you hiding from?"

"The situation in the west of the city is quite chaotic."

"The police said they were worried about cultists causing trouble, or... enemy airships coming."

Rogers held his water glass without saying a word.

The news about Heimers Island is in the newspapers every day.

Conscription notices were plastered all over the bridge arches, and families in the city who stockpiled salt and candles were getting busier and busier each day.

"Is war really going to break out?" Rogers asked.

"I don't know," Richard replied. "But it's always better to be careful."

Rogers drank the water and slammed the glass down on the table.

"it is good."

Evelyn is easier to deal with.

Richard told her that the sanctuary had hot soup and bread, and that she could stay with other children.

"A refuge with all the ovens?" That was Evelyn's first question.

"...I think so."

"Then I'll bring the flour with me." Evelyn ran back to her room to pack.

"I've come up with a new recipe for almond cookies, and I'll try it out over there. I'll let everyone hiding here have a taste."

Richard was both amused and exasperated.

"They were even thinking about grilling things while seeking refuge."

"Even when you're taking refuge, you still need to eat," Evelyn said, carrying her bag of flour.

"It's so boring to just sit there like that. I'll bake some snacks for everyone. Once everyone's in a better mood, they won't be scared anymore."

Richard felt a weight lift from his heart as he watched his sister clutching the flour bag.

Mother Margaret remained silent.

She sat in the corner of the living room, holding a half-knitted piece of yarn in her hand.

She looked at her son for a long time.

She didn't believe a single word of Richard's explanations to her father and sister.

Margaret already knew what it was from the damp, heavy atmosphere that had started to feel like winter, and from her son's increasingly somber expression these past few days.

She extended her hand, letting Richard place it on hers.

Richard placed his hand in his mother's palm.

Margaret's remaining trail lit up very faintly along the spot where the two had touched.

She sensed the circulation within her son's body—complete, stable, and much stronger than it had been a few months ago.

She withdrew her hand.

"Be careful on the road." The mother lowered her head.

After several days of running around, Richard's journey came to an end.

It filled up silently on a trip to Heigou, back to the branch office, to my home, and then back to Heigou.

[Walking level 2, progress 100%.]

The advanced conditions for long-distance trekking across days and through dangerous places were already met during that hill hike.

Richard put one in.

[Walking level 2 → 3.]

[Walking Without Fatigue: The rate of fatigue accumulation in muscles, joints, and the cardiovascular system is significantly reduced, and walking efficiency on complex terrain is close to that on flat ground.]

Richard didn't feel like he ran faster or jumped higher.

From that moment on, my legs didn't feel as heavy as before after running all day.

After climbing the stairs for half the night, my heart doesn't feel as tight as it used to.

Fatigue is still accumulating, but it's happening very slowly.

He can now work half a day and stay up half a night longer than before, and his body can still handle it.

【Wu Tireless】 has arrived at just the right time.

He had already increased the [Spirit Appearance] section to twenty points back in the capital.

These past few days I've been nurturing rare objects, practicing shadow manipulation, and practicing breathing techniques to change the humidity.

When the breathing technique is activated, excess ether flows continuously into that storage tank.

It's almost full now.

Twenty points of pure ether pressed heavily beneath the Sun Throne on his chest.

That was the most stable source of his roots for the Sphinx lamp, and also the greatest source of confidence he could draw upon during battle.

………………

A dusty figure entered through the entrance of the branch office, a hunting rifle wrapped in an oilcloth.

"You're back?" Sarah asked.

"Here he comes," Wentworth said. "Wages as usual."

"This is dangerous." She leaned the gun against the wall. "Pay half upfront."

Lieutenant Colonel Ode also entered with several of his hunters.

However, the number of hunters was significantly less than last time, with only three or four professional-level hunters.

He used his steel prosthetic leg to move a massive crate.

The crate was opened, revealing it to be full of high explosives. The shell was wrapped with silver wire, and the etheric fluctuations were very strong.

"It's a modified Tunneling Machine No. 2, my most treasured possession." Lieutenant Colonel Ode patted the edge of the box.

Even a master who is caught off guard will suffer a severe blow.

Tonight I'm taking Wentworth and Sarah into that shop. If we can't blow it up, we'll blow it out of that face.

"Lieutenant Colonel, is it really that serious?" Mr. Hutton, who had arrived earlier, frowned.

"It's alright, anyway, we hunters don't have many years left to live."

The lieutenant colonel turned around:

"My second team leader died in the wrong pit, and Bigelow also died behind his own desk."

His voice was hoarse.

"Bristol is my district, and these people are my people."

Mrs. McNeil stood up.

"Lieutenant Colonel, take explosives and blast it, use magic to bombard it, and that eye will wake up immediately."

The medium lined up the seven spirit artifacts:

"Once it woke up, it turned around and stared at us, following the line of our attack."

"Things will only get worse then," Mr. Hutton added from the side.

"What should we do then?" The lieutenant colonel frowned.

"The only clean way," Mrs. McNeil added, "is to lower the anchors one by one into a peaceful rest from the inside."

She glanced towards Heigou, then towards the entire northern district.

"We want to let all the nameless dead in the entire river rest in peace."

"Once the anchors are put back in place one by one, the net will collapse on its own without the anchors."

Mr. Hutton nodded and continued:

"With the ritual network collapsed, that eye can't pinpoint a specific source of attack, and therefore can't find us."

"What we do is to return the dead bodies that are nailed to the bottom of the water, one by one, to where they belong."

Richard understood.

This is an extremely dangerous and time-consuming road.

But this is the only path that will allow most of them to survive.

Lieutenant Colonel Aude said nothing more and gently placed the box back against the wall.

"I've prepared for my death my whole life," he said, "but in the end, I realized I didn't deserve it."

………………

There is a bell on the roof of the branch office building.

Richard had been here so many times, but he had never heard anyone ring that bell.

The bell was covered in dust and rust.

The bell was facing downwards, and a layer of dust had accumulated underneath it.

"This clock," Wentworth said, standing before it, "hasn't been rung in decades."

"Why are you knocking on it?" Richard asked.

Wentworth looked up at the rusty bell.

"The tolling of the bell signifies... a crisis of collapse for the city."

"Anyone who has received even a penny for the Empire's mystical affairs is responsible for responding to emergencies."

"Coroners, herbalists, funeral home doormen... anyone in the local guilds who has made a living in this line of work must come when the bell rings."

Wentworth walked up to the bell and reached out to grasp the rope hanging beside it.

The rope was old and felt rough to the touch.

He took a deep breath.

clang……

The first chime resounded throughout the entire branch office and echoed outwards across the entire northern district.

clang……

clang……

Three chimes echoed in circles in the twilight of Briston.

Wentworth lowered the rope and reached out to pat the rusty bell.

"No one has knocked on your door for decades."

"I feel wronged."

Less than an hour after the bell rang, people began to arrive one after another.

The first person to arrive was Pastor Hawkins.

An old man with a hunched back was carrying a silver bottle filled with holy water.

"Head of Wentworth," the old pastor said breathlessly, placing the silver bottle on the ground.

"My old bones are too slow to run."

He chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"You all know that this bottle of holy water of mine is useless."

I've blessed these things underground countless times, but they've never worked.

Richard looked at the old man.

Mrs. McNeil mentioned the time at the Holbrook Textile Mill in the western suburbs.

That night shift workshop was consecrated by Reverend Hawkins of the St. Andrew's Diocese, but it was ineffective against real evil spirits.

"What are you doing bringing holy water?" Richard asked.

Reverend Hawkins did not answer him.

He just stared at the rooftops in the northern district.

"I've been officiating at funerals in the North District for thirty years," he said slowly.

"Mr. Burns, Mr. Davidson, old George... I sent down most of the dead people in this area."

"The scriptures I recited for them were useless, and the holy water I sprinkled was useless."

"But."

The old man picked up the silver bottle and held it in his arms.

"The dead people in this area recognize my face."

That face, that passage of scripture, were familiar and peaceful to the deceased.

The old pastor's holy water was useless, but the old pastor himself was useful.

The second person to arrive was the doorman of the North District Funeral Home.

An old man with one eye leaned on a cane with a copper head.

The third one is the owner of the secondhand goods store in the south of the city.

A gaunt man carried a cloth bag on his back, which jingled and rattled, containing something unknown.

One by one.

All seven or eight nodes that Mr. Hutton had marked on his map arrived that night.

No one is a particularly remarkable person.

The coroner left, and the funeral home doorman arrived.

Herbalists, secondhand dealers, inspectors... they each have their own little skills to make a living.

Those who can identify seals, blend spices, or recognize bones—none of them could amount to much on their own.

When put together, they form a simple earthen net.

Richard stood in the archives room, looking at the people in the room.

These people are the most inconspicuous layer of this city.

But tonight, they are the ones guarding this city.

Before the meeting adjourned, Mrs. McNeil led the way.

"When kings become complacent, sages fall silent, and the people are left helpless..."

There were seven or eight voices in the room, some high and some low, all finishing the sentence.

"We must rise up!"

………………

On the outer layer of the surface world, Old Crowley of the Warren family also made an appearance.

Wentworth, through his branch office, relayed a message to the Coal Miners Association.

Old Crowley organized a miners' picket line.

Hundreds of miners, carrying pickaxe handles and crowbars, set up a roadblock at the intersection of North District Street overnight.

People in the superficial world are unaware of the truth.

All they knew was that the inspection team had issued a notice.

There was a toxic gas leak in the North District tonight, and all residents in the factory area have been evacuated to shelters in the South of the city.

The checkpoints along the streets are to stop people from running around and prevent anyone from accidentally entering the toxic gas zone.

The miners stood guard at the street corner, stopping people heading north one by one and driving them south of the city.

Richard stood on the roof of the branch office building, looking at the lights of the miners at the street corner in the distance.

This is Briston.

The two layers, inside and out, are intertwined and inseparable.

As night fell, Richard and his companions, along with the members of the local guilds in the room, went to the edge of the Black Ditch.

The section near the old sluice gate is a turning point for the entire network.

The ceremony will be held here.

Mr. Hutton stood by the gate, copying the inscriptions onto rubbing paper without looking up.

"Disaster is already on its way."

"No one can hold them back."

Mrs. McNeil took one last look at Richard.

Her gray dress looked heavy and somber in the lights at the gate.

"What we can do," she said, "is to put the anchors back one by one before it's harvested."

"Make it impossible for it to be collected."

Richard nodded.

Mrs. McNeil glanced at him.

"Ready?"

Richard gave his equipment a final check.

"Ready."