The Extra's Rise - Chapter 423

Chapter 423: Windmere (2)
The mayor’s car was sleek and modern, a stark contrast to Windmere’s otherwise modest appearance. Beside me, Cecilia had slipped back into princess mode, her posture perfect, face a mask of polite interest. Only the slight pressure of her thigh against mine betrayed her tension.

‘This feels like a trap,’ Luna whispered in my mind, her qilin presence stirring restlessly.

‘Everything in this town feels like a trap,’ responded another voice, deeper and colder than Luna’s melodic tones. Erebus, my lich, rarely spoke unless it involved death—his domain of expertise.

‘You sense something?’ I asked him silently.

‘Death lingers in this town,’ Erebus replied, his ancient voice sending a chill down my spine despite our years together. ‘Not just recent. Years of it, layer upon layer. Like sediment on a riverbed.’

Great. Exactly what I needed to hear before dinner.

“We’re approaching the mayor’s residence,” Ava announced, peering through the tinted windows. “And it’s… not what I expected.”

She wasn’t kidding. As we rounded a corner, the modest buildings of Windmere fell away, revealing a sprawling estate that would have looked more at home in the capital than in this backwater town. A high wall surrounded manicured gardens, and at the center stood a mansion that practically screamed wealth and power.

“Well, someone’s doing well for themselves,” Cecilia murmured, eyebrow raised. “Public service must pay better in the East than I thought.”

The car pulled through ornate iron gates and followed a curved driveway to the front entrance, where a line of servants waited to greet us. A middle-aged man in an expensive suit stood at their center, his smile broad and welcoming.

“That’s our mayor,” I guessed, noting the deference the others showed him. “Quite the reception.”

The driver opened our door, and we stepped out into the cool evening air. Immediately, the mayor approached, bowing deeply.

“Princess Cecilia of the Slatemark Empire, Lady Ava of the esteemed Peng family, and the renowned Arthur Nightingale,” he greeted, his voice warm and practiced. “What an honor to welcome you to my humble home. I am Mayor Chen, at your service.”

Humble was the last word I’d use to describe this place, but I kept that thought to myself.

“The honor is ours,” Cecilia replied smoothly, every inch the diplomatic princess. “Thank you for your hospitality on such short notice.”

“Please, follow me,” Mayor Chen gestured toward the entrance. “Dinner is ready, and we have much to discuss about these terrible events plaguing our peaceful town.”

The interior of the mansion was even more impressive than its exterior—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, priceless art on every wall. Servants materialized at each turn, offering drinks and leading us through a series of opulent rooms until we reached a dining hall that could have seated forty, though it was set for just the four of us.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” the mayor said, indicating our places at one end of the long table. “I’ve had my chef prepare some local specialties.”

The food, when it arrived, was exquisite—far beyond what I’d expect from a small-town kitchen. Course after course appeared: delicate dumplings filled with rare mushrooms, perfectly seared meats, vegetables carved into intricate shapes. Throughout the meal, Mayor Chen kept up a stream of pleasant conversation, skillfully avoiding any substantial discussion of the murders.

“Forgive me for being direct,” Ava finally said during a pause between courses, “but we’re here on official business. What can you tell us about these killings?”

The mayor’s smile faltered slightly before returning. “Of course, of course. Business before pleasure—I admire that, Miss Peng.” He dabbed his lips with a napkin. “The situation is… troubling. Eleven good men lost in three months. Each found drained of blood, with strange markings carved into their flesh.”

“Markings?” I prompted. That detail hadn’t been in our briefing.

“Yes, like some kind of ritual,” he replied, his expression grave. “Our local doctor couldn’t identify them. I had hoped the adventurer guild would send someone with knowledge of such things, but the first adventurer who took the case…” He trailed off, shaking his head sadly.

“He died,” Cecilia finished bluntly.

“Disappeared,” the mayor corrected. “We never found his body. But given the circumstances…” He sighed heavily. “We fear the worst.”

‘Ask about the markings,’ Erebus urged. ‘I need to see them.’

“Do you have photographs of these markings?” I asked.

The mayor nodded. “I prepared a file for you. You can take it when you leave.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “But I must warn you—this killer is unlike anything we’ve faced before. He strikes without warning, leaves no witnesses. My people are terrified.”

“And yet they speak so highly of you,” Cecilia observed, her tone deceptively casual. “Everyone we talked to today couldn’t praise you enough.”

Was that a flash of tension in the mayor’s eyes? If so, it was gone in an instant, replaced by modest self-deprecation.

“They’re kind people,” he said. “And in times of crisis, they look to leadership. I’ve done my best to protect them, organizing patrols, implementing curfews. But I’m only a White-ranker. Against someone powerful enough to kill a 6-star adventurer…” He spread his hands helplessly.

“We’ll need access to all your case files,” I said. “And to speak with families of the victims.”

“Of course, of course,” the mayor agreed readily. “Whatever you need. My assistant will provide everything tomorrow morning.”

The rest of the dinner passed uneventfully. The mayor skillfully guided conversation to lighter topics—the history of Windmere, recent developments in the Empire, even polite inquiries about our studies at the academy. By the time dessert arrived, I was more convinced than ever that Mayor Chen was hiding something behind his perfect host facade.

As we prepared to leave, he handed me a thick folder. “The case files, as promised. Including the photographs.”

“Thank you,” I replied, weighing the folder in my hand. “We’ll be in touch tomorrow after we’ve reviewed these.”

The same silent driver returned us to our hotel. None of us spoke until we were safely inside the suite the mayor had arranged for us—a spacious accommodation with two bedrooms and a common area. Ava immediately began checking for listening devices while Cecilia collapsed dramatically onto a sofa.

“Well, that was enlightening,” she said, kicking off her shoes. “Our host is either the most generous public servant in the East or he’s hiding something massive.”

“Definitely the latter,” I agreed, opening the folder. I spread the crime scene photos across the coffee table, and immediately wished I hadn’t. The victims had been savagely mutilated, their bodies contorted in positions that no living person could achieve. And on each corpse, carved into the flesh with surgical precision, were symbols I didn’t recognize.

‘Blood magic,’ Erebus whispered, his voice suddenly intense. ‘Ancient and forbidden. These aren’t just murders—they’re sacrifices.’

‘Red Chalice Cult again?’ I thought.

I relayed this information to the others. Ava’s expression grew grim, while Cecilia moved closer to examine the photos.

“Sacrifices for what?” she asked.

“Power,” I replied, letting Erebus guide my understanding. “Each symbol draws out and preserves the victim’s life force. These people weren’t just killed—they were harvested.”

“By the mayor?” Ava asked, finishing her sweep of the room. “It seems clear.”

“Too clear,” I countered. “He handed over these photos without hesitation. Either he’s innocent or…”

“Or he’s so confident we can’t touch him that he doesn’t care what we know,” Cecilia finished. She leaned against me, all pretense of princess decorum gone now that we were alone. “So what’s our next move?”

I gathered the photos, my mind racing. “We need to verify his story. Talk to the families, see if their accounts match the official reports. And we need to check out that brothel theory—see if there’s a connection between the victims.”

“Split up again?” Ava suggested. “We can cover more ground.”

Cecilia immediately wrapped her arms around my waist. “I’m with Arthur this time. No arguments.”

Ava didn’t look surprised. “Fine. I’ll speak with the families. You two can investigate your brothel theory.” Her tone made it clear what she thought of that plan.

“Be careful,” I warned her. “If the mayor is behind this, he’ll be watching us.”

“I can handle myself,” she replied with quiet confidence. We’d all seen Ava fight—her calm demeanor hid a terrifying efficiency in battle.

“We’ll meet back here before dinner,” I said. “Compare notes.”

After Ava retired to her room, Cecilia pulled me toward the suite’s second bedroom. “Now that business is settled,” she purred, “I believe you owe me for making me sit through that tedious dinner.”

I laughed, following her into the room. “The food was good at least.”

“The company wasn’t,” she replied, pushing me onto the bed. “All that fake concern and practiced charm. I wanted to stab him with my dinner knife.”

“That would have been… diplomatically challenging,” I pointed out as she straddled my lap.

“Worth it,” she whispered against my lips. “Besides, you would have protected me. That’s what boyfriends are for, right?”

Before I could answer, she kissed me deeply, effectively ending the conversation. But even as I lost myself in her embrace, part of my mind remained troubled. Erebus’s warnings echoed in my thoughts, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were missing something crucial about Windmere and its smiling mayor.

Morning came too quickly. Cecilia was still asleep when I slipped out of bed, drawn to the case files I’d left in the common area. I spread the photos out again, focusing on the symbols carved into each victim.

‘You recognize these, don’t you?’ I silently asked Erebus.

‘Some,’ the lich admitted. ‘They belong to a ritual older than me. A forbidden technique for drawing out and preserving life essence. But these are only fragments. The complete ritual would require many more sacrifices, arranged in a specific pattern.’

‘What’s the end goal?’ I pressed.

‘Power. Immortality. The usual pursuits of those who meddle with death.’ Erebus’s tone was dismissive. ‘But these markings are precise, professional. Whoever carved them knows exactly what they’re doing.’

A sound from the doorway made me look up. Ava stood there, already dressed and ready for the day.

“You’re up early,” she observed, joining me at the table. Her eyes narrowed at the photos. “Find anything new?”

“Maybe,” I said, organizing the photos chronologically. “According to Erebus, these markings form part of a larger ritual. If we map the locations where the bodies were found…”

I pulled out a town map from the folder and began marking the discovery sites. As the pattern emerged, Ava’s expression grew troubled.

“It’s a sigil,” she said quietly. “Centered on the mayor’s mansion.”

“Exactly,” I confirmed. “These murders aren’t random. They’re carefully planned, creating a massive array with the mayor’s home at the focal point.”

“So he is behind it,” Ava concluded.

“Or someone’s setting him up,” I countered. “Either way, we need more information. Stick to the plan—you talk to the families, and Cecilia and I will check out the brothel angle.”

The door to the bedroom opened, and Cecilia emerged, wrapped in a silk robe. Her hair was tousled from sleep, but her eyes were alert and focused.

“I heard talking,” she said, moving to join us. “What did I miss?”

I quickly brought her up to speed. She examined the map, frowning at the pattern we’d discovered.

“So we’re dealing with some kind of dark ritual,” she summarized. “With the mayor’s mansion at the center.” She looked up at me, all trace of playfulness gone. “This just got a lot more dangerous, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, thinking of the 6-star adventurer who hadn’t returned. “But we still have the advantage of numbers and strength. As long as we stick together and watch each other’s backs, we can handle this.”

Ava nodded firmly. “I’ll meet you back here by sundown. If I’m not back by then…”

“We’ll come looking,” I promised. “Same goes for us.”

As Ava left for her interviews, Cecilia disappeared to get dressed. I stood at the window, looking out over the seemingly peaceful town of Windmere. Somewhere beneath its quiet surface lurked a killer—perhaps the mayor himself, perhaps someone else—harvesting lives for some dark purpose.