...

"Lord Valois, we're here."

Among the white stone buildings, one house had been completely leveled, broken bricks and rubble scattered like confetti.

Carlos shot Mond a look, waiting for a decent explanation.

Mond cleared his throat:

"When we nabbed Roderick, things got messy. The fight just happened to go down right at his place."

Carlos said nothing but calmly remarked:

"I've heard the centaur clan runs all the trade in eastern Samana.

Mind if we swing by the trading district?"

Though he phrased it as a question, his tone made it clear this wasn't up for debate.

Mond hadn't expected the half-elf emissary to suddenly pivot to the trading area.

Still,

This worked out perfectly. As long as they weren't digging too deep into Roderick's business, whatever this lord wanted to do was fine by him.

"Would be my pleasure!"

...

"Sir, I don't know who told you we centaurs run all the eastern Samana trade.

Truth is,

Those merchant crews and adventurers just want somewhere safe to do business.

We centaurs can provide that—scratching each other's backs, you know?"

While leading Carlos's group, Mond couldn't help but set the record straight about those 'rumors.'

The old chieftain was circling the drain, and the centaur clan still hadn't produced a new Controller.

If the half-elf clan got the wrong idea and dumped some nasty tasks on them later, that'd be a nightmare.

Carlos caught the worry in Mond's voice. If the centaur chieftain were in his prime, the centaurs wouldn't be playing it so humble.

Following Mond through several narrow alleys, a bustling square opened up ahead—haggling voices and vendor calls creating a beautiful racket.

"Perfect timing—today's our annual trade fair.

All the major merchant guilds show up to buy and sell, and plenty of wandering adventure crews take the chance to hawk their loot."

Mond explained while eyeing the square like a kid at a candy store.

The trade fair only happened once a year and was a big damn deal—the centaurs' best shot at restocking their supplies.

He still had gear to unload, but unfortunately his most important job these seven days was keeping the half-elf emissary happy.

Carlos surveyed the square. Around several major merchant setups, crowds of centaurs traded alongside regular humans.

In one corner of the square, adventure teams had thrown together makeshift stalls showing off their latest haul.

Weapons, beast bones... all kinds of weird stuff, including plenty of items that defied identification.

"Sir, if you're looking to buy something worthwhile, stick with the major merchant outfits.

Those adventurers have more tricks up their sleeves than a back-alley card sharp—

Hell, faking ancient relics pulled from ruins is practically their bread and butter."

Mond couldn't pin down this half-elf emissary's exact age since he was decked out in full armor and a mask.

But wanting to send him packing quickly, he didn't need any complications.

Those exact words got Carlos's attention.

"Let's go have a look."

Counterfeiting skills—he'd never seen them firsthand in this life.

Of course, back in Ember City, no one would dare try to pull a fast one in his presence.

Or rather, anything that reached Carlos had definitely been vetted—no way it was bogus.

This place was different. Though the centaurs kept the peace, it was still a mixed bag of characters.

For bigger profits, merchants naturally didn't mind bending a few rules.

You want to hunt for bargains, I want to fleece suckers—perfect match.

Still, there really were genuine deals to be found, which kept this whole game alive.

Carlos wasn't hunting for bargains but wondering if there might be items from that ruin.

After stepping into this trading corner, Mond's gaze kept drifting to the goods on those rough-hewn counters.

Especially the stuff that looked freshly dug up, still caked with dirt but showing hints of ancient craftsmanship where the soil had worn away—

The cheap prices made the centaur's heart race. Even knowing he'd probably pick up junk, Mond still felt that gambling itch.

Plenty of others felt the same way. Carlos wasn't surprised.

Few people could resist the lure of risking small change for a big score.

As Carlos casually browsed the wares on both sides, his eyes suddenly sharpened with a flicker of confusion.

Not far away, two bald, muscle-bound men with dead expressions and cold, lifeless eyes kept scanning the crowd.

They carried massive hammers strapped to their backs, their shiny bald skulls carved with twisted black patterns that crawled down to cover half their faces.

"What the hell are Shadow Servants doing here?"

Carlos's gaze locked on the hammers:

"And they're mid-tier Shadow Hammer Servants at that."

His blood ran cold, killing intent flickering in his eyes.

Shadow Servants—the name alone screamed trouble from the old Shadow Realm.

Years after the Shadow Realm got wiped off the map,

A group calling themselves Shadow Hall crawled out of the woodwork, supposedly carrying on the Shadow Realm's legacy.

Their methods and power systems were dead ringers for the recorded Shadow Realm techniques, making them the closest thing to Shadow Realm successors.

But they were venomous snakes hiding in humanity's ranks, always waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

In the future,

Shadow Hall's betrayal would cause humanity's long-planned great counteroffensive to crash and burn completely, losing the best shot at reclaiming their former glory.

Thinking about Shadow Hall's coming betrayal, Carlos nearly lost control of his killing intent.

He held back from acting immediately, his mind racing through everything he knew about Shadow Hall.

"Shadow Hammer Servants are Shadow Hall's elite muscle.

What the hell brought them way out here?"

This place was nowhere near Shadow Hall's stronghold, completely outside their usual stomping grounds.

Something important had to be drawing them here.

Connecting it to the centaurs' future destruction:

"From what I remember, the centaurs getting wiped out was definitely the Twilight Cult's handiwork.

But Shadow Hall's got their own nasty agenda.

If they're working together to slaughter the centaur people, that wouldn't shock me."

But if not...

Carlos missed Red Spirit. If it were here,

Just two mid-tier Shadow Hammer Servants—he could read their soul patterns directly instead of playing guessing games.

'Should I grab them now and wait for Red Spirit to get back...'

Seeing those two Shadow Hammer Servants starting to move off, Carlos quickly told Mond:

"Mond, head back and tell your chieftain that Roderick's mess won't blow back on the centaur clan."

Mond got blindsided by this sudden good news—

His mission was done just like that?

After standing there stunned for a moment, he bowed:

"Thank you, sir!

Let me stick with you a bit longer..."

Carlos waved him off:

"Next part, I'm flying solo.

I don't want anyone tailing me—we clear?"

"...Hope you enjoy the rest of your visit."

After Carlos promised the centaur clan was in the clear, their worries naturally melted away.

Mond's job was finished, so he hustled back to update the old chieftain.

Once Mond was gone, Carlos quietly shadowed those two Shadow Hammer Servants, wanting to see what they were really up to.

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