Cipher raised his glass of water, a hearty laugh booming. "Regulations forbid alcohol on base, gentlemen. Tonight, water must suffice for our toast – an apology to the Elder Leaf for any offense caused by the forces under my command." All the senior officers of the Colorado National Guard Detachment stood, including Sire, the usually reclusive leader of the Magi Corps. They raised their water glasses.
Dunce scrambled to his feet, flushing slightly. "I understand the difficult situation you were in. There's no need to apologize."
The officers of the Colorado Guard spared no praise for Dunce's overwhelming strength. The farewell meal, filled with camaraderie, stretched for a good two hours before concluding.
Cipher personally escorted Dunce and his companions, Rock and Rockforce, to the border crossing. "Elder Leaf, if you encounter any danger in Nevada Territory, return immediately. As long as you're on our side, we guarantee your safety. Though," he added with a confident nod, "I suspect my worries are misplaced. With your formidable power, those scoundrels in Nevada Territory could never harm you."
Sire, the Magi Corps leader, added his respect. "Elder Leaf Dunce, you are the most potent Mage I've ever witnessed. Maintaining a Summoned Being for over an hour… I don't recall even the arcane texts mentioning such a feat!"
Rock had long grown weary of the effusive praise. He cut in impatiently, "No need to see us further. We have ground to cover. Dunce, let's move." Cipher and his men watched until the figures of the three travelers vanished before returning to base, Cipher himself facing the uncomfortable task of drafting a report on recent events to headquarters.
Crossing into Nevada Territory, Dunce retrieved the Woodland Wristlet from within his dimensional pouch. "Those officers were overwhelmingly sincere," he sighed, rubbing his temple. "My head is spinning." Dealing with social intricacies was not Dunce's forte; the words spoken at the base likely exceeded his usual ten-day quota.
Rockforce roared with laughter. "What do you expect when you call down a freaking Holy Evil? No wonder they couldn't stop fawning over you! Brother Dunce, just summon that beast whenever trouble hits; who could stand against us then? Those Nevada elites aren't even in our league."
Dunce shook his head. "Holy Evil is still young. Her power is considerable but limited. Cipher and the others amplified it greatly." He understood Holy Evil's true strength. Against his own Keanusis Energy Chains combined with the darksteel bow, the young dragon wouldn't stand a chance. The impact at the base stemmed primarily from the sheer terror induced by the dragon's legend.
Rock nodded in agreement. "Dunce is right. True security comes from one's own strength. You can't rely on the dragon every time. Finding the lost elves will demand our focus as well as training." As they spoke, they moved into Nevada's notoriously unstable Black District. Unlike Colorado's fortified border, the interior seemed deceptively calm. They traversed rolling foothills into flatlands, moving cautiously, meandering as they probed their surroundings with the Woodland Wristlet, searching for signs of elves.
---
**Location:** Secluded Study, Lord Governor's Estate, Blackrock City, Black District, Nevada Territory.
The five surviving Black Robes and four Killer Ninja from the failed strike on the Magi Guild Headquarters sat scattered in the heavy darkness of the room.
The door swung open, slicing the gloom with a wedge of light. A middle-aged man in rich attire entered, closing the door firmly behind him, plunging the room back into shadow. The Killer Ninja remained motionless in the corners; the Mages stood.
"Report," the man's voice was cold. "Operational outcome. Why is Aldose massing the Colorado Guard along the border? Did you compromise operational security?"
The lead Mage stood, hands clasped behind his back, his voice raspy. "The Magi Guild proved far stronger than anticipated. The strike failed." He offered no details.
The man – the Viscount Master overseeing the region's intelligence and dark operations – frowned. "Failed? Define the failure level. Is Aldose's mobilization directly due to your actions?"
"The mission was a total failure," the Mage stated flatly. "No Magi Guild personnel were eliminated. We only managed to eliminate a few hundred grunts during our retreat."
Cold fury radiated from the Viscount Master; even in the dim light, the glacial glint in his eyes was visible. "Total failure? With meticulous planning? The Magi Guild couldn't have been prepared! How do I explain such losses and such conspicuous attention to the Senator? Detail the events." His voice dropped dangerously.
The Mage's hood shifted slightly, conveying contempt. "Spare me the interrogation. *I* will report directly to the Senator. My explanation isn't owed to *you*." He turned towards the door. "Prepare our transport. We return to Salt Lake City."
The Viscount Master's frame trembled with suppressed rage. "You *will* explain. *I* command this operation."
The Mage paused, radiating disdain. "You command nothing. Remember who I represent. You are a mere Viceroy's pawn. The Senator himself honors us. Make the transports ready, *now*." He strode towards the door, his shadow stretching long against the illuminated floor as it opened. He spoke without turning. "Consider this a courtesy, owing to your connection to the Viceroy." His voice was clipped. "Within the Magi Guild, there is a young Mage. Remarkable combat prowess. He disrupted the operation. His magic I didn't see; his fighting skill is exceptional." He paused on the threshold. "More significantly… I deployed the *Conjuration*. Yet, subsequent intelligence shows the forbidden Demonic Conjuration inflicted *zero* casualties within the Guild. Contemplate that." He left, followed by the others. The door slammed shut.
Alone in the dark, the Viscount Master stood rigid. His burning anger cooled, replaced by strategic calculation. *Demonic Conjuration? He actually used* that? *And the Magi Guild weathered it? A combat-proficient young Mage…* The pale-skinned Viscount Master's lips curled into a predatory smile. *Perhaps the failure wasn't entirely wasted. We've gained insight into their true capabilities.* "Hawk!" he snapped.
A lithe figure silently slipped through the door's narrow opening. "Master." A voice, feminine and icy.
"Cancel all prior deployments. All assets revert to standby positions. Instruct 'Hawk' to infiltrate Colorado District. Target: locate and gather intel on a young Mage exhibiting exceptional combat ability. Report immediately upon discovery. Also, maintain surveillance on Aldose's border forces. Alert me to any movement. Any movement."
"Acknowledged, Master." The figure vanished as silently as it appeared. The Viscount Master's lips stretched into a cruel approximation of a smile. He followed her out. The study returned to profound stillness.
---
Mystic Nightfall found Dunce, Rock, and Rockforce setting up camp under a sheltered hillside.
Rockforce plopped down, grumbling, "Could've bunked at the base. Had to push out at dusk. Nowhere near shelter. Back to sleeping rough again."
Dunce scratched his head apologetically. "Sorry, Rockforce. Those officers… they'd have kept us up all night chatting. I needed to leave."
Rockforce chuckled, waving a hand. "Eh, just messin' with you. Come on, spark up a fire. Still damn chilly for early March." He gestured at the pile of kindling and dry leaves they'd gathered.
Dunce obliged, chanting the familiar, rarely-used incantation. "Firespirits, heed my call! Gather warmth and heed this plea! Condense and flare, serve me now!" He felt the ambient heat coalescing, red motes swirling towards him. *Poof!* Light bloomed in his palm – a deep sapphire flame dancing in a sphere nearly ten centimeters across. He started, surprised. *My control feels stronger. Bigger flame? More intense heat?* His months of rigorously controlling the solid manifestation of Keanusis Energy had honed his mental focus, amplifying his elemental manipulation. Using his left hand, coated in a faint white aura of Keanusis power, he flicked a single blue ember into the tinder. It caught instantly, bathing the campsite in light and warmth.
"Hmph, I'll grab more wood," Rockforce announced. "Won't last the night at that rate." He headed back towards the nearby patch of woods.
Satiated from the earlier meal, hunger wasn't pressing. Dunce and Rock gathered more dry winter leaves for bedding. Rock spoke as they worked. "Brother Dunce, finding the elves… won't be easy. Covering every corner of Nevada? Two years wouldn't suffice. Worse, who knows if other factions have acquired the stolen elves?"
Dunce pondered. "Rock, remember our earlier thoughts? The Merchant Guild likely sold the elves to the highest bidders. Big money… likely means big cities. We can start there – hit all the major hubs first. Find one elf, we get leads on the others. More efficient." He felt a spark of practicality.
Rock stared at him, then laughed. "Dunce! When did you get so sharp? That's actually genius!" He pulled a map from his gear. Locating their position, he scanned the region. "Here! Blackrock City! Largest hub in this district. Closest major city. We start there. Then we sweep the major cities of every territory. Final target: Carson City itself."
Dunce nodded firmly. "Good. Tomorrow we push hard for Blackrock City. Hope the first stop bears fruit."
"LEAVE ME! LET ME GO! LET ME DIE! What point is there in living?" Ragged sobs pierced the night. Dunce and Rock spun to see Rockforce charging out of the trees, a struggling figure tucked unceremoniously under his arm. Rockforce cleared the distance in a single powerful leap and dumped the figure onto the ground near the fire. It was a middle-aged man – clothes torn, face pale with exhaustion and despair. He yelped as he hit the dirt, scrambled up, and jabbed a finger at Rockforce's face. "You troll-faced midget! Who asked you to meddle? Do I not have the right to die? What gives *you* the authority?" His English, sharp with regional inflection, was clear.
The insult struck a raw nerve. A black-steel war axe flashed into Rockforce's hand, its edge resting against the man's neck. "Who. Did. You. Call. A. Midget?" Rockforce's voice was dangerously low.
The man spat back, "YOU! Kill me then! Better than living!"
Rock stepped forward. "Rockforce, what in the Hells? You went for firewood, found a man?"
Rockforce seethed. "The bastard was hanging himself from a tree! Pulled him down outta pity! And *this* is the thanks? Should've let him swing!"
Dunce moved beside Rockforce, gently nudging the axe blade aside. "Sir? What drove you to this? Death is… permanent." His voice was gentle.
The man glared at Dunce. "Death is the *point*! I have nothing! NOTHING!" He slumped, the fight draining out of him as the despair surged. Dunce placed a hand on the man's shoulder, channeling a pulse of life-giving Keanusis Energy. Warmth flowed into the man's body, his color improving slightly, the panic subsiding into hollow numbness. He collapsed onto the ground, eyes vacant.
Dunce met Rock's gaze, then knelt beside the stranger. "Sir, tell us what happened. We'll help if we can."
The man, Watana Merchant, looked at Dunce, registering the Mage's garb. A flicker of desperate hope appeared. "I… I *was* rich," he whispered, voice thick with misery. "Owner of mining operations near Blackrock City. Just a year ago, I had mansions, vaults full of coin, more women than a man could handle… Now?" He gestured emptily. "Lost it all. *All* in a single year." He poured out his story: success, comfort, then the seductive emptiness of wealth replaced by the lure of the card tables and dice pits. Small bets became large, winnings fueled false confidence, losses mounted exponentially. High-stakes gambling became life. Within a year, his empire crumbled. Debt spiraled. His partners vanished, his fortune evaporated, his lovers deserted him. Two days ago, loan sharks threatened lethal collection. He fled Blackrock City, a ghost haunted by fear until Rockforce found him. The end seemed the only escape.
Dunce sucked in a breath. The sheer destructive power of this "gambling" appalled him. "Sir, is it truly that powerful? To drive you to this end?" Compassion warred with unfamiliarity.
Watana Merchant gave a mirthless laugh. "You think it's simple? 'Just don't gamble'? Bah! It's worse than an opiate. Worse than the most tempting flesh. One moment you're king, the next a pauper. Always chasing that win. Blackrock? The city runs on the dice. Old men, young kids… hooked. Families ruined? Seen it every day." He shivered.
Rock snorted contemptuously. "Sounds like self-inflicted misery. Had comfort, threw it away for poison."
Watana Merchant's shoulders shook with a sob. "You… you might be right. But when the glitter fades, and the vaults are full, the soul is just… empty. Poison felt like solace. Now? All I see is poison." He raised hollow eyes. "Just let me go. Find a quiet place. End it. Better than collectors finding me."
Dunce swiftly caught Watana Merchant's arm as he tried to rise. "Wait! Please! It's only money! We can help you repay! Stellat anew!" The words came out before he could fully process the magnitude. He remembered his privileges within the Guild: *"...access to funds up to ten thousand gold..."* For a life? It seemed justified. "Ten thousand? I can manage it. Let us help!"
Watana Merchant froze, grabbing Dunce's arm. "Boy… what… what did you say?"
Dunce met his gaze firmly. "I said, your debt. I'll pay it. Then you live. Find your feet again."
Hope, shocking and fierce, blazed in Watana Merchant's eyes. Tears streamed freely. "Boy… boy… you… you're an angel! A godsend! Blessed!" He broke down completely.
Dunce helped Watana Merchant up, guided him to the fire. He offered dried rations and water. "Eat. Rest. Tomorrow… a new beginning." Watana Merchant accepted, shoveling food into his mouth with frantic hunger. Dunce watched, a profound sense of fulfillment warming him deeper than the fire. This act – saving a life on the brink – was its own reward.
Rock pulled Dunce aside, his voice low and concerned. "Dunce, Nevada's shadows breed predators. How do we know he's not playing us? Ten thousand gold… that's not trivial."
Dunce remained firm. "Look at him, Rock. The despair… it was real. He was going to die. I can't ignore that. The Guild funds… this is why they exist. To help." Rock sighed, reluctant to crush Dunce's compassion. "Alright. We'll proceed. Eyes open though. And he knows the terrain." Rock decided to watch Watana Merchant closely. *One wrong move… one hint of treachery...* Nevada's reputation as the territory of shadows demanded caution.
---
Dawn found the four – Dunce, Rock, Rockforce, and a subdued Watana Merchant – trekking towards Blackrock City under Watana Merchant's guidance. The ruined tycoon remained mostly silent, only occasionally offering a direction or shooting Dunce a look of profound, silent gratitude. As the city neared, his apprehension grew palpable.
Blackrock City, the throbbing heart of the Nevada Territory's notorious Black District, rose before them. In sheer scale, it dwarfed Denver City. A constant stream of humanity flowed through its wide gates – miners, merchants, drifters, and more, their faces etched with weariness and worry. To an untrained eye, it might just seem like another bustling metropolis, far removed from tales of lawlessness. At the gate, Watana Merchant halted, his face a mask of dread. To him, the city walls looked like the maw of Hell itself.
"Sir Watana Merchant," Dunce said firmly, placing a reassuring hand on the trembling man's shoulder. "My promise holds. We resolve the debt. Come." He guided – or perhaps gently propelled – the reluctant man through the imposing gates.
Inside, the intensity of Blackrock City assaulted them. The crowds were denser, faster, and harsher than Denver's. A significant number moved like ghosts, faces hollow, eyes bloodshot and vacant, bodies radiating exhaustion. Watana Merchant leaned closer to Dunce, his voice barely a whisper, thick with painful recognition. "See them? Like walking corpses? That's the high-stakes tables sucking the marrow out all night. I… I wore that mask too." Before the others could fully absorb this grim insight, Dunce subtly activated the Woodland Wristlet concealed within his clothes. A sudden pulse of warmth, a faint emerald glow emanating for an instant. Dunce and Rock locked eyes, excitement and resolve burning there. The artifact had spoken. Blackrock City held captive elves.
Rock, suppressing Rockforce's near-shout of triumph with a fierce gesture, murmured, "Fortune smiles. First target, first hit." Finding one elf was the key to unlocking all others. Hope surged.
Watana Merchant, lost in his anxieties, missed their silent exchange. Dunce looked towards the sprawling cityscape, his heart swelling with determination. *Hold on, friends. Liberation draws near.* The mantle of a guardian spirit felt solid on his shoulders. *Hold on. I'm coming.*