Chapter 1: Transmigration

Tik-Tok- Tik

"F*cking\, bloody F*cking hell! Sh*t! F*ck! Argh!"

‘My eyes! My eyes! Argh!’

Screaming internally, I abruptly bowed my head, instinctively

placing my palms in front of my eyes.

Staying in the same position for approximately half a minute, I

felt relief washing over my body. The burning sensation gradually disappeared.

Slowly rubbing my eyes, I tried to stand up; however, my limbs

seemed to revolt against my will.

They refused to budge, leaving me immobilized and helpless.

‘Ha... I must have transmigrated…’ I chuckled at such a delusional

thought which came out of nowhere.

If this were to be a novel, I'd say this is quite a generic

start... Quite generic.

I shifted my right palm, placing it on my forehead, slightly

massaging it.

Is this what people term as a lucid dream? Why do I feel wet; am I

drowning in this dream?

Oh, shit!

Suddenly, my heart sank.

A wet dream?!

Thankfully, my blurred vision slowly cleared, allowing me to see

the exact situation. What greeted me was my own reflection somehow tainted

crimson.

No... Rather than being tainted crimson, it was more probable that

the 'object' reflecting my face was crimson.

Moreover, the subtle pungent smell present here wasn't so subtle

anymore.

My eyes swept across the room, which seemed to be relatively

simple.

This seemed to be some kind of bathroom, strangely not having many

modern tools but weirdly also possessing some objects completely alien to me.

I forced my body up, not caring about the pain anymore. In a

flustered manner, I looked around but then forcefully calmed myself in the next

second. Panicking was of no use.

I slowly started to regain my senses.

Drip! Drip! Drip!

Tik tok tik

The rhythmical sound of rain, along with the systematic ticking of

a watch, made it uncannier. The constant gushing sound of water could be heard,

making me guess that the tap's knob in the water basin was turned open.

There was even this pungent metallic smell, similar to that of

blood. I wouldn't be too surprised to see a corpse when I turn around to see

the rest of the room.

Taking a deep breath, I continued looking around, trailing my

eyes, scanning the room.

Though my view was restricted due to the angle at which I was

standing, my mind stirred, and I reached out and massaged my throbbing temples.

Dangerously narrowing my eyes, I spotted some crimson liquid lying

on the ground. It seemed to be fresh.

This crimson liquid was similar to the one present in the bathtub,

which was apparently being used by me.

Not being able to understand what this crimson liquid was, as a

result of my splitting headache, I straightened my back, ready to exit the

bathtub. Rubbing my eyes, I once again cast my gaze toward that crimson liquid,

this time my vision being clear as a result of the disappearance of the

splitting headache.

My pupils dilated in horror, as my mouth widened slightly. I

started dreading regretting my decision.

Acting upon my instincts, I tried to widen the gap between that

crimson liquid and me.

To my horror, I simultaneously once again looked at the bathtub.

'Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down... Damn it! *******

calm down!'

Quickly regaining my balance, I carefully walked out of the

bathtub. Scared to look in that direction, I tried to walk out of the room.

Nonetheless, something like this couldn't be unseen. Steeling my

will, I quickly turned my head. As soon as I did, the first thought that came

to my mind was:

Is this a prank?!

I reeled back in fear and disgust at the horrendous sight that

greeted me, shaking my soul!

I had a sudden urge to scoff at myself for showing this kind of

authentic stupidity.

Did this look like a result of a prank?! What am I even thinking?!

‘It's just a prank bro’ meme continuously reflected in my head.

‘Wait, why is "meme" the first thing to come to my mind?

Argh!’

I quickly shook my head, getting rid of such thoughts. Placing my

palms in front of my mouth, resisting the urge to puke, I sprinted towards the

brown door, nearly losing my balance thrice in the process.

Though the blood on the floor was partially to blame, somehow my

body felt unfamiliar. After all, my muscle memory was nothing but a mess.

By now, it was obvious the kind of situation I was stuck in.

A few carefully taken steps later, I arrived near the brown door.

However, the washbasin looked more attractive due to the mirror right above it.

Curiously, I glanced at the mirror.

What appeared was as a black-haired figure, with abyssal black

eyes that absorbed every bit of light greedily. The figure reflected on the

surface of the mirror possessed clear-cut features, with deep lines making me

look quite cold.

The figure appeared slightly blurry, with some of his features

hidden due to the blood on his face and his shirtless body. A few droplets of

blood fell from his moist hair, making him look like a serial killer.

At least there are trousers on.

Yep, blood. Whoever this person is surely loves this thick, sticky

liquid.

Walking closer to the mirror, I instinctively turned the tap off

in fear of the Divine slippers still etched in my memories from childhood.

Noticing the tiny piece of soap near the basin, I picked it up

before turning the knob once again.

The gushing of water once again echoed throughout the place as I

applied the soap to my face.

I quickly splashed the water again and again. The cooling

sensation brought about by the water with every splash was quite refreshing.

After all that, I again checked myself in the mirror. Thankfully,

the blood was fresh. If it had dried, then this would be quite a hassle.

Feeling refreshed and relaxed, I looked at the face once again.

In the illuminated situation created by the moonlight, a face

appeared on the mirror.

To me, this was a familiar face. I saw this face every day in the

morning, and for some mysterious reason, it also was unfamiliar.

The small amount of hair on his chin and stomach invoked by the

society was nowhere to be seen.

The outline shouldn't have been this deep and sharp. Looks

shouldn't have been this cold.

Well, for the body...

"Damn." This one single word escaped my mouth, looking

at the perfect abs, looking as if they came to life from sculptures.

‘I might as well fall in love with myself!’

I slightly leaned, trying to flex those abs.

"Sigh." Though it had dawned on me a long time ago, now

it was official.

I have transmigrated.

I have F*king transmigrated!

"Haaa! F*cking hell! What is this, some cliche novel? Oh, I

see! Fate's probably sipping tea with the pinky up, chuckling as it throws me

into its own Victorian comedy sketch!"

By the design of the room and the objects placed here, as a lover

of classical literature and drama, this indeed seemed to be a Victorian setting.

Wait.

I suddenly paused as it finally dawned upon me. The words spoken

by me...

"Hello, English? Monocle? Sword? Shield? Bug? Error?"

With great difficulty, I managed to squeeze out a few words coming

in the category of standard English.

With a flick of my wrist, I turned the doorknob. With that, I

finally walked out of the bathroom and entered the living room.

The room wasn't too big nor was too small. One could describe it

as just above average.

I did what any other sane person would do, scan the environment. There

were in total three brown doors on each side of the wall.

Quickly spotting a small bed, seemingly crafted for a single

person with bedsheets on it that looked like they would rip apart, judging by

the loose threads, I walked towards it.

Almost immediately, an unpleasant expression appeared on my face

as a result of walking near it.

That was because of the bed bugs on top of it. They weren't one or

two, but legit more than 100 of them, making this look quite disgusting.

If I hadn't seen those dead bodies, then this would have been an

unbearable scene.

Right beside the bed stood a cabinet with its two doors ajar,

revealing three drawers beneath.

Thankfully, there was a mirror on one of the doors in the cabinet.

In the center of the room sat a sturdy desk made of burly wood,

bearing a nameplate that read: {Private Detective. Sebastian Lemonhgrey}

Behind the nameplate on the desk, several notebooks were arranged.

Some bore the wear of age, while others appeared freshly bought.

A transparent ink bottle filled with blue ink sat on the desk,

with a feather pen partially submerged in it, right next to the nameplate on

the left.

To their right, the wall was adorned with grayish-white paint, and

lamps were attached. These lamps exuded a classical Victorian flair, about half

the size of an adult's head. They featured a transparent glass interior

shielded by a black metal grid on the outside.

Inside the lamp, a radiant blue stone burned, emitting pale white

flames that illuminated the surroundings.

'Spiritual stones?' The thought sprang to mind, perplexing me.

But in an instant, realization struck, and my eyes widened.

‘This…’

“…”

Chapter 2: New Identity

Tik- Tok- Tik-

Gulp.

Gently sliding my right hand into my trouser pocket, I immediately felt an object with a sleek, smooth surface.

Gripping it, I carefully pulled the object out. It was a pocket watch that met my gaze.

I elevated my hand a bit, seeking better visibility in the dim light, and felt my heart race.

The silver moonlight shone with an intensity I didn't recall, illuminating the pocket watch in my hand with crystal clarity.

While this light might have brightened the world for others, enhancing their vision, it only cast shadows on my path.

The playful mood I once had evaporated. I couldn't shake the feeling that a pair of eyes from the darkness were reveling in my distress.

"Haa, I'm truly at a loss for words."

I always knew that the 'salted fish that loves diving' was a brilliant author. But I never imagined that merely reading his novel could transport me between worlds.

Indeed, he's the same genius who penned the amusingly titled: "That time I got isekai'd into a normal world as an author only to find the webnovel app ending up with a bug and all my handwritten stories getting deleted, only to unlock my powers due to sadness and depression and get transported back to my previous magical world to defeat the demon king and build a harem of bookworms."

Quite the mouthful for his debut, I agree. Yet what really put him on the map was his masterpiece: "Lord of the Realms."

A novel with only two volumes, yet each one was a masterpiece. The first volume had approximately three hundred chapters, while the second boasts four hundred.

Why was I so sure that this was the world of the novel? Because of the name {Sebastian Lemonhgrey}.

One of the standout characters, and a fan favorite, he assisted the main character on many occasions.

As the plot thickened and slowly unfolded, us readers came to learn that his real name was Alister Klemort.

He was the heir to the Klemort family, a noble lineage. Owing to his intelligence and tactics, he was often called the genius of the family.

While everyone envisioned a bright future for the Klemort family, he left them behind and settled in Brassington City, known for its business in brass, iron, and other metals.

Brassington City, blessed with such resources and advantages, was second only to the capital of the Clandonshire Kingdom's brightest country, Medegeas.

I shook my head, dispelling these thoughts. Discarding much of the irrelevant details, I honed in on the most crucial information.

My gaze drifted to the pocket watch almost involuntarily.

If my recollections were accurate, in the novel, such pocket watches were the purview of the wealthy or the more affluent middle class. One such watch was owned by Sebastian Lemonhgrey, or rather, Alister Klemort.

However, it wasn't just any watch; it was a spiritual artifact. And what's more, he acquired it in the later chapters of the first volume but lost it not long after. Regardless, it held significance in the story.

This was a spiritual artifact with an affinity to time, which was quite rare. But it was sealed. The idea of a sealed artifact was daunting because if something accumulated enough spiritual energy, it could potentially gain consciousness.

And since spiritual artifacts thrived on this energy, the more powerful they became, the higher the chances they would achieve consciousness.

An artifact with consciousness was perilous, as the user no longer had control over it, necessitating its sealing.

"I should be able to use future sight with this, right?" I pondered, gazing at the golden pocket watch.

Sigh.

I was but a humble magician. Perhaps you've heard of me - Alister Bright. Yes, the very magician who, against all odds, made the Statue of Liberty vanish for a whole two minutes.

Why was I transmigrated? The manager up there did me dirty. Sigh, these useless thoughts once again.

I turned and directed my gaze to the window, particularly the narrow gap. The radiant silver moon was gradually giving way to the rising sun.

With just a step outside the house, the small amount of lingering uncertainty in my heart might be laid to rest.

However, before venturing out, there was a task I had to complete. Approaching the cabinet, I began searching through its drawers.

A revolver?

A pistol, bearing the hallmark design of ancient Europe, came into view.

Setting it aside, I persisted in my search, discovering more items like a holster for the revolver.

Then, the object of my quest finally revealed itself.

A wand!

This wand was nothing short of mesmerizing. It spanned about 12 inches, fashioned from the lustrous depths of mahogany. Age-old runes, rendered with painstaking precision, danced along its span, gracefully winding from its stout base to its slender tip. Each glyph glinted with a faint silver light, presenting a stunning contrast to the wand's dark timber.

This wand seemed to be out of the world... Ha, more like I was not of this world. I thought with a self-deprecating laugh.

There was finally emotion on the previously stoic face. With a determined stride, I headed back to the bathroom.

I soon stood before the 'crime' scene. A nauseating sensation welled up within me as my stomach churned, urging me to vomit. Somehow, I suppressed it while internally cursing my rotten luck.

Automatically, my face resumed its composed expression. This was undoubtedly an influence from my predecessor, Alister Kelmort, who had exceptional control over his facial expressions. Remarkably similar to mine, I'd note.

I pointed the tip of the wand toward the bodies in front of me. These bodies were mutilated beyond recognition. This caused my palms to shudder slightly, rebelling against my will. I was sure this would give me nightmares for months if not years.

I shut my eyes, seemingly in an effort to recall a memory. At last, with evident strain, I began to intone unfamiliar words. These phrases felt foreign to me. As I wasn't a wizard, I found myself obligated to recite the whole incantation rather than just the pivotal word. It was rather inconvenient.

"Igris!" As my chant concluded, a vivid luminescence emanated from the runes on the wand. Its tip gleamed a fervent red, and then a flare, akin to a blazing firework, shot forth towards the bodies. It might've appeared harmless, but upon contact, the bodies erupted in intense red flames.

Within moments, the corpses were reduced to ashes. A wave of fatigue swept over me, my spiritual energy nearly drained. But that wasn't the immediate issue.

The fetid odor from the incinerated remains, coupled with the gruesome sight... Despite the influence of the original Alister Klemort, my stomach could bear no more.

Blurgh!

...

A ruthless murderer with a kill count in the thousands... Unwaveringly cold... Clever and immensely intelligent... Adept at concealing his facial expressions... Someone who deemed food bland and often skipped meals...

Reflecting on all this, I sighed deeply. Though our names were similar, our natures were poles apart.

I was a glutton, savoring every morsel. In contrast, the original owner of this body couldn't find joy in food. He was cunning and sharp... whereas I often felt like a complete dunce.

A sudden longing to return to my home, to Earth, surged within me.

As I leaned back into the chair, I felt its sturdy embrace against my back and let my thoughts wander. Slowly raising my hand, I massaged my forehead, finding a small measure of solace in the gesture.

This was a harsh world. A land steeped in blood where the unthinkable was common.

It was home to powerful wizards, seekers of truth who broke every boundary set for mankind. There were gods, frenzied demons, abominations, and sinister beings that lurked in the dark.

Coming from the tranquil era of Earth, this chaotic realm was overwhelmingly foreign to me. Amidst all the madness, it seemed the only viable option was to return to Earth. But...

My gaze settled on the pocket watch. A prize from a reader's competition, it was the very artifact Alister Klemort was to receive on 22nd April, 1847.

A glance at the current calendar showed it was only 21st February. A discrepancy, or as one might describe in literary terms, a plot hole.

But that inconsistency wasn't my primary concern. This pocket watch was likely the catalyst for my unexpected journey to this world. Perhaps, with more research, I could find a way back to Earth. The real question remained... Did I truly want to?

I had no family left; my parents had passed, and there was no one genuinely concerned about my well-being, no one who would mourn my absence for more than a fleeting moment. The fans I had would perhaps feel a pang of sorrow for a day or two, then move on with their lives. I couldn't fault them for that...

Magic was my sole companion. So, what was the point in striving to return to Earth?

"Haa..."

I slowly stood up and walked towards the cupboard. Didn't notice it earlier, but now the mirror on the right side of the door caught my attention.

Dressed in a black vest with a matching coat and trousers, the material of the ensemble, especially the bow tie, felt remarkably smooth. These were the clothes I'd donned after cleaning up the crime scene.

Inhaling deeply, I switched the bow tie for an Ascot tie and undid the collar button to loosen it.

'This man's dressing style is different, out of time.'

I noticed a single black glove tailored to fit snugly on the left hand. Running my fingers through my hair, I gave it a disheveled appearance.

The absence of a cane or hat in the room struck me as odd. It wasn't the typical attire for a gentleman of twenty. Truly out of time.

‘Oh! I forgot about this!’ The pistol and pocket watch caught my eye.

Quickly, I removed the coat and strapped on the sling just above my trouser waistband. I positioned the pistol on the left and slid the wand into an adjacent slot.

After redonning the coat, which now concealed the revolver, I turned my attention to the golden pocket watch. I attached its chain to a designated loop on my vest and then tucked the watch into the jetted pocket of the coat.

Looking at my reflection, I saw a face that was cool and composed.

From today onwards... I was Alister Klemort.

Chapter 3: Report 1

~Market stalls, and town hall calls,

Past city walls, where history falls.

In the heart of Veronaire, where the ordinary meet,

Life and tales of old entwine, every face you greet.

Puff.

I suddenly lifted my head, exhaling a plume from the cigar. This man certainly had an affinity for cigars, evident from the numerous metal cases, each housing twenty or more premium cigars.

In fact, every one of his coats contained a metal case and a lighter. While I personally wasn't fond of cigars, I had indulged in them occasionally to unwind.

Puff~

Cats that slink in alleyways, dogs that bark at passing carts,

Each a player on the stage, each with their own parts.

You, with eyes of stories vast, walk amidst them all,

Capturing fleeting moments, of summer, spring, and fall.

"Fresh fish soup! Fresh fish soup! 3 pennies per bowl!"

"Fresh chicken fry! Fresh chicken fry! 5 pennies apiece!"

"Hot and spicy vegetable chop! 7 pennies a plate!"

Navigating a narrow pathway, I found myself flanked by market stalls on either side. While some vendors showcased fresh produce, others peddled prepared dishes. A few stalls offered tools like cleavers, knives, and pickaxes. The crowded atmosphere lent the city a somewhat stifling ambiance.

Street musicians were a common sight, many belting out the popular tune "Whispers Veronair."

Priests, too, made their presence felt, sermonizing to anyone who would listen. Their robes and the tomes they held suggested deep knowledge, yet some only donned these garments to deceive the gullible, convincing them they were purchasing divinely blessed items.

Many of these priests were followers of The Eternal, the deity reigning over The Sun.

With another drag from my cigar, I veered into a different street. This lane appeared more orderly and tidier, with sturdier structures serving as storefronts.

'Hmm, much better.' I thought as I surveyed the area. I found myself on Damascus Street. While this era had vibes akin to the Victorian period, complete with its bustling crowds and an overarching steampunk atmosphere, it also boasted its own unique charm.

Thanks to the infusion of magic and advancements in research, hygiene standards, and the medical field had seen vast improvements.

To say I was content with the cleanliness and ambiance of this street wouldn't be an overstatement.

Fuuuu!

Huh?!

I was caught off guard when a vivid red light flashed before me, causing me to lose balance and tumble to the ground. Shifting my gaze, I noticed a shop resembling a garage to my left. From it, fiery flares had erupted. I take back my compliments!

Being a city known for its prowess in brass and iron production, sights like this were probably commonplace. The other pedestrians on the street either glanced at me with amusement or sneered.

Sighing, I admitted internally that this wasn't something I was accustomed to. Additionally, syncing with this body's muscle memory was still a challenge.

How did this man manage to maintain such a lean build? Luckily, the muscle memory gap wasn't too significant, and I believed I could get the hang of it within a week of effort. But apart from those abs, our physical similarities were astonishing. Terrifyingly so.

Brushing off the recent incident, I rose, entirely unembarrassed. I even met the gazes of some bystanders as if to challenge, 'What's the issue?'

Ignoring them, I moved my steps in a casual manner. Continuing on my path, I soon arrived at my intended destination. The shop's vintage sign overhead read, "Whispering Pages."

A solitary bench awaited outside the establishment. Next to the door, a chalkboard was propped up on an easel, detailing the rules for patrons within the store.

Since finding myself in this world, I had resolved to make it my temporary abode. To explore intriguing methods that might augment my magical prowess and familiarize myself with this new realm, I had to engage with its inhabitants and adapt their ways.

However, my visit to this particular store was driven by a more pressing reason. For any of my aspirations to materialize, I had to first navigate the events of the initial volume.

The ending of the book remained a mystery to me. The unknown is a common human fear, one I wasn't exempt from. And the unsettling fact remained: Alister Klemort met his end in the first volume.

Indeed, the tragedy that transpired in the first volume was an enigma; the identities of those responsible were still concealed. For any chance of survival, preparations were essential.

Luckily, there were still fifteen days before the central plot was set into motion. But, when seen from another angle, it was alarming. Only fifteen days remained! A mere fifteen days!

My mission was twofold: identify the brains behind the impending disaster and brace myself to make it through this volume unscathed.

I let out a heavy sigh. The date was February 21. If only my transition to this realm had happened a month earlier, I could have easily left this city and started a peaceful life.

‘Well...’ My eyes became sharp as I looked at the entrance of the store.

I'm not Detective Holmes or any other detective, my lazy *** doesn't even come close to 1 percent of their big brains, no harm in saying, but... the Investigation begins!

...

Chuchuk! Chuchuk! Chuchuk!

Quuueeeeiiiiii!

Despite serving as one of the most prominent modes of transport, the steam train did produce a cacophony of sounds, a sentiment many shared, particularly those in the first-class compartments.

Knock! Knock!

"Come in," a calm voice responded, its clarity surprisingly distinct amidst the train's ruckus.

The door to the first-class compartment gradually opened, revealing an attendant in uniform holding a food tray. He positioned a posh-looking plate with a glass lid on the table by the window.

As he lifted the glass lid, he mentioned, "Sir, here's your desi chicken." Swiftly following that, he presented a thick letter envelope, indicating the numerous sheets it might contain.

After placing the envelope beside the plate of desi chicken, the attendant headed towards the door, stepping out and closing it behind him. Inside, a man in his mid-forties, with a few strands of white hair, sat comfortably. His sharp blue eyes exuded calmness, and skin-tight gloves covered both of his hands. Instead of attending to the desi chicken, his attention shifted directly to the envelope.

He carefully opened the envelope, revealing a thick bundle of papers inside. After unfolding the stack, he perused the top sheet.

[Name: Bruce Lombardi

Affiliation: The Uprooter (Gang)

Rank: Master

Crime records: None

Suspected: He's believed to have stolen the artifact: X-17]

The initial page was succinct, presenting only essential details. Setting it aside, he turned his attention to the subsequent sheet.

[Name: Lucius Lombardi

Affiliation: The Uprooter (Gang)

Rank: Wizard

Gate: 1

Crime records: None

Suspected: He's believed to have stolen the artifact: X-17]

[Name: Karl Bree

Affiliation: The Bree Family (Gang)

Rank: Scholar

Crime records: Has orchestrated numerous illegal activities and is suspected of several murders.

Suspected: He's believed to have stolen the artifact: X-17]

[Name: Zohar Bree

Affiliation: The Bree Family (Gang)

Rank: Master

Crime records: Suspected of committing multiple murders. Operates three illicit race tracks. Extorts "protection" fees from locals.

Suspected: He's believed to have stolen the artifact: X-17]

[Name: Demoneas Grey (Alias)

Real Name: ???

Affiliation: The Watchers (Gang)

Rank: ???

Crime records: None

Suspected: He's believed to have stolen the artifact: X-17 and is rumored to be a devil worshiper.]

Only two more sheets remained, with the final one appearing to be a report. Before delving into them, he paused, closing his eyes. He took a moment to digest the information he'd just read, attempting to conjure up mental images of the individuals described.

In his mind's eye, an image of a disheveled man with a scruffy beard and mustache materialized. Following this, an image of a well-groomed man with a cleanly shaven face emerged, embodying discipline and precision. Numerous other visages came and went in rapid succession.

After pondering these mental portraits for a couple of minutes, he refocused his attention on the world outside his thoughts, directing his gaze to the penultimate sheet.

[Name: Sebastian Lemonhgrey (Alias)

Real Name: Alister Klemort

Affiliation: Klemort family

Rank: Scholar

Crime records: None

Suspected: Mentioned in Report 1]

His eyebrow quirked upward upon seeing the familiar name. He had certainly heard tales of Alister Klemort, the prodigious scion of the Klemort lineage who had chosen to abscond.

“Quite the brain he must have,” he mused sarcastically. If even half of what was said about Alister was true, then the smart move would've been to seek refuge in a remote part of the country, or perhaps even a different country altogether.

Yet, not altering his appearance? This was peak Foolishness.

After this, he looked at the final sheet.

{Report 1}

Description: A team of three wizards from IRA were sent, with their leader at the strength of gate 2. Their main task was to retrieve the stolen artifact X-17. The artifact went missing on November 13, 1846, and the official investigation commenced on November 26, 1846.

The artifact was concealed on a ship bound for Tangzen city's port, but it was intercepted and stolen there. Initial traces suggested it might be in Lormbrick City, though this lead was likely a distraction.

Thanks to one of our wizards skilled in tracking, we pinpointed potential coordinates in Brassington City. While this could be another diversion, we needed to act on every lead. The more we investigated, the more suspects emerged, as if someone was deliberately casting a wide net to hide among the 'crowd'.

We began to narrow down the suspects, trying to identify the main culprit. As our investigation deepened, we realized that the situation was more complex than we initially thought.

Hence, this report is split into two sections: Dark Wizards, and Alister Klemort.

Dark Wizards:

The Dark Wizard Association, also known as Devil Believers, have deep roots in this city. We've managed to capture several of these believers - some met their end, while others were incarcerated, and a few faced public execution.

We have reasons to believe they were behind this theft, and upon investigating them, we discerned that something significant might be afoot in this city, something catastrophic.

Conclusion: Our investigation leads us to two conclusions regarding the Dark Wizards.

The first is that they might be setting up a ritual, possibly to beckon an evil deity.

The second suggests they are prepping for an advancement ritual for one of their ranks, judging by the turmoil, likely for a member advancing to the rank of pillar.

At present, we're designating this ritual, giving it the codename 'Crimson'.

Alister Klemort:

He's known as the Klemort family prodigy who chose to disappear. Initially, he seemed a bit naive, but as our investigation progressed, his intellect proved to be astounding.

It appeared that he intentionally caught our attention. This man's actions are far from foolish. Each move seemed deliberate, as if he had a premonition of events to come.

Conclusion: Alister Klemort likely has ties with this extremist group and might be aiding them with 'Crimson'.