The blood pool ran beneath all eleven rooms, big and small, tying them together in one hidden vein. If he let that vein stir even a little, the alchemists would feel it. One twitch in the flow and he would be caught.

Radeon knelt and reached with his senses. The sheer volume of it pressed against his mind. A heavy pool of red.

Yet the quality made his lip curl. Thin. Polluted. More waste than worth.

His thoughts raced. There had to be a way to strip the dregs and keep the strength.

To steal the last threads of vitality from this tired blood before anyone knew it was gone.

'I could pull the blood in with a cultivation art, but that's too slow. Need something that gathers it for me.'

He let his thoughts slip to the array beneath the blood. Then to the little bag he had stolen from the righteous sect.

His master had taken it from him, but Radeon still remembered every charm inside. Every use.

First he studied the array itself. He traced each glowing line in his mind and memorized the pattern all over again.

Then he narrowed his eyes and pushed his sight deeper, past the surface shimmer.

The immaterial yielded by degrees. Twelve simple nodes only, linked in a slow turn that kept the pool alive.

'Array like this needs fresh work every month.'

By his count, today was the third day before its next maintenance. No one would touch it yet.

Radeon did not know when the attack would truly fall. Only that it would.

By the look of their preparations, they would likely strike the closest entrance first.

That place was bait. A neat little killing ground, and Radeon knew its teeth too well.

'I just need something stealthy attached or something aggressive to take it all.'

Radeon killed the thought of lingering here. The errand men would come at sundown to scrub and tidy the place, used or not. He would not be able to hide for long.

Worse, if he showed too much interest in alchemy, his master would start watching him with fresh eyes.

That curiosity was a card he meant to keep hidden until he truly needed a reason to stay by the cauldrons. Not waste it on a half plan and a blood pool.

For a heartbeat he wondered if Fay could ever walk these corridors at his side.

See what he saw. Share the risk. He shook her from his mind.

Worrying over the young lady now would only slow the moment they finally met again.

Radeon went back to the door and plucked the crushed herbs from the gap.

He paused, listening, and made sure no one nearby was finishing a batch.

The last thing he needed was some tired alchemist catching him in the doorway and dragging him into small talk.

He let the latch click first. A small honest sound. He had never locked it, he was just selling the illusion he did.

Then he caught the edge and gave the door a sharp swing. Fast enough to close. Soft enough that it did not bang.

The hinges whined once and settled. No second scream to draw ears.

Radeon slipped back into the passage and took the way to where his master idled.

Soon the floor tilted and he came to a stairway that climbed straight up into the dark.

The steps were wrong on purpose. Each tread no wider than half a foot.

Each rise near half a body. A ladder pretending to be stairs. Radeon craned his neck and saw nothing above. Only a shaft of black.

The intent was clear. His master did not like visitors.

Today Radeon went anyway.

He set his foot on the first narrow stone. Then the next. The damp chill of the cave clung to his sleeves and made every grip feel slick.

He thought of the materials he needed. Of the excuse he would use. Maybe he could ask outright for spare array parts and hide his hunger behind the word curious.

Time stretched. Legs burned. By his count it was only a handful of minutes, yet the climb felt like a small eternity before a weak glow finally bloomed above.

A spirit torch hung there, its white flame giving off no smoke and no heat, chewing quietly on a ring of spirit stones to throw a dim light down the shaft.

At the top, Radeon found a single door. Plain. Closed.

He knocked once. The door snapped inward at once.

The swing was hard and sudden, a slab of wood that could have taken him in the chest and hurled him backward into the drop.

Radeon jerked a foot back at the last instant and felt the rush of air skim his clothes. A neat little test to see if his wits and body were still sharp.

He stepped into the frame and bowed low, spine folding until his head hovered near his own feet, even with only half a step of stone beneath him and a steep fall waiting just behind.

"This disciple pays his respects to Master Jekyll."

"I took that buzzing for a fly bold enough to spoil my viewing pleasure. Very well, come in."

Radeon lifted his head just enough to look.

The air hit him first. A hard clean wind that smelled of stone and old rain. It rushed through the chamber and set his master's hair drifting, dark strands lifting and falling as if underwater.

Beyond his master's shoulder the land spread out in broken lines. Ridges. Forest. A distant stain of smoke where some village burned or cooked its supper. From this height the world felt small enough to cup in two hands.

Inside, nothing moved.

A pot of tea rested on a low table. The steam rose in a thin straight column, unbent by the gusts. No ripple touched the tea in his master's cup. The surface lay smooth and glass still, as if the wind knew better than to lay a finger on it.

'So Giovanni did not know. The master of Giovanni reached Nascent Embryo long ago. Thin aura means he is close to Spirit Transfiguration. Harmony with nature like that takes that level. He hid here as a gilded core expert the whole time. Why?'

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