Nestled within a rugged valley where mountain cliffs met ancient pine forests, Taketsu City stood as the formidable seat of the Arakuro Clan's power.

Dark stone fortifications encircled the heart of the city, their silhouette broken only by the arched rooftops of watchtowers and the imposing spires of the clan's ancestral palace.

The city brimmed with activity. Bustling markets offered rare metals and lacquered armor, while winding alleys were perfumed by incense from shrine courtyards and the aroma of smoked game from rustic taverns.

Swift rivers rushed along the city's edge, feeding networks of canals that both protected and nourished Taketsu's population.

Within the inner district, the streets widened and grew quieter, reserved for the Clan's esteemed warriors, artisans, and scholars.

Black and red banners bearing the Arakuro insignia rippled from every gate, and as evening fell, lanterns cast shifting patterns across flagstone plazas, their light reflected on polished armor and in the watchful eyes of sentries posted at every corner.

In Taketsu City, where tradition and martial discipline were present in everyday life, the spirit of the Arakuro Clan was as unyielding as the mountains that protected it.

At the center of the city, the clan's palace rose as a giant monolith.

The Arakuro Clan Palace was a fortress of black-tiled roofs and stone walls atop the city's highest point. Guarded gates led to inner courtyards with ancient pines, while cedar-lined halls displayed banners and armor. The palace exuded discipline and tradition.

The main chamber was grand and reserved for the Patriarch of the Arakuro Clan.

Currently, Masahiro Arakuro, the Mana Vortex Magus responsible for the investigation into Tensei Arakuro's death, was present within this grand chamber. He respectfully kneeled on the marble floor, his forehead touching the ground.

On the far end of the chamber, a short flight of grand stairs led to a raised pedastal with a large chair upon it. Seated on this throne-like, golden chair, a towering figure with a burly build looked at Masahiro emotionlessly.

This was the Patriarch of the Arakuro Clan, a Mana Core Magus, standing at the peak of power in the mystical lands of Yen-Lu.

His burly figure was half concealed in shadows, preventing Masahiro from looking at his appearance. But the heavy and oppressive aura radiating from the Patriarch was enough for Masahiro to know that he was in the presence of a mighty warrior.

"Lord Patriarch, I have returned," said the elderly man, his voice filled with utmost respect.

"Rise." The Patriarch's flat and heavy voice echoed in the grand chamber.

Masahiro raised his head, but his gaze remained lowered. Though he was connected to the Patriarch by blood, not for a single moment did he think that they were truly family.

The Patriarch of the Arakuro Clan recognized only strength.

Things like blood ties were meaningless to him, and that is why even his bastard offsprings were given a shot at becoming the Patriarch of this clan, given that they had the strength to become one, of course.

"Speak." The Patriarch's voice once again echoed in the hall.

Masahiro remained silent for a moment, then answered:

"After thorough investigation, we have uncovered the true reason for the Young Master's death. There was a big skirmish involving a hundred Magi, dozens of Mana Vortex Magi included.

"They were all after an outsider who possessed multiple Grade 4 Artifacts. Young Master Tensei died in that fight, along with the two guards who were sent to protect him—"

His words got caught in his throat when the Patriarch coldly interrupted him.

"I do not care about such trivialities. What matters is that the boy has been avenged."

Masahiro suddenly felt his heart gripped by an unseen hand. He knew that the Patriarch did not truly care about his offspring, for he had dozens of them. But to be so cold towards the death of one of his sons was truly heartless.

What the Patriarch truly cared about was appearances. It was fine if a son or daughter of Arakuro was killed on the battlefield. They were warriors and were meant to die on the battlefield.

What was more important than anything was whether the Arakuro Clan had avenged the deaths of its children.

If word got out that someone from the Arakuro Clan had died, and the Clan hadn't avenged them, then what would the Magus world think?

One of the Nine Great Sects and Clans was incapable of avenging its child?

Under no circumstances could that happen!

Masahiro gulped subconsciously, then nodded. "Yes, Patriarch. The young master's killer has been brought to justice. We have brought his head."

"Good," said the Patriarch, his voice even. "Leave."

But Masahiro did not leave. Throughout his journey from Ichigane Town to Taketsu City, there was one thing that constantly clawed at his mind.

Seeing the hesitance on the elderly man's face, the Patriarch's eyes narrowed.

"Speak." His cold voice echoed in the hall once again.

Masahiro retrieved the notebook from his inner robes. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Patriarch, truth be told… when we located the murderer, he had already taken his own life. We found this notebook in his—"

He was interrupted when the notebook in his hand disappeared.

Masahiro noticed that the notebook was already in the Patriarch's possession, who was now reading it.

A few moments later, the Patriarch coldly chuckled. "What a cheap ploy," he said, tossing the notebook back to Masahiro.

He then deeply looked at the elderly man, then asked, "Masahirio, do your instincts say otherwise?"

Masahiro nodded. "Indeed, Lord Patriarch. I can't shake this feeling off for some reason…"

The patriarch intently looked at the man. At last, he hummed in acknowledgment.

"Very well," he began. "Find the Head Diviner. Tell her to divine the location of this masked man. And then…"

His lips curled into a cold grin, and he added, "Kill him."

Masahiro shuddered. Suddenly, the air in the hall felt cold and significantly more suffocating. His back was drenched in sweat, and unbeknownst to him, his heartbeat had risen.

He immediately kowtowed. "As you command!"

The Patriarch leaned back in his throne, then slowly closed his eyes. The temperature of the room slowly started to rise, and Masahiro felt like he could breathe again.

"Leave," the patriarch spat a single word.

"Yes, Patriarch!"

Masahiro rose to his feet, took a few steps back, then finally turned around and left.

He lowered his head and looked at the pages of the notebook, glancing at the illustration of the man in the kitsune mask.

A simple thought echoed inside his mind:

Just who are you?

Are you even… real?

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