(A/N):
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Clover Kingdom...
King's Castle...
The gates of the castle closed behind them with a dull echo.
-Creak
Ben had barely taken a few steps inside when he noticed it.
Harry was waiting.
His posture was straight as always, hands folded neatly behind his back—
But his face was grim in a way Ben had never seen before.
Not rushed.
Not panicked.
Grave.
"...."
Charlotte and Dorothy followed Ben in silence,
Both sensing the shift in atmosphere as they moved toward the throne room.
"Harry?"
Ben asked, slowing his steps.
"What happened?"
Without a word,
The butler reached into his coat and produced a sealed scroll.
The wax bore the royal insignia.
He held it out with both hands.
Ben accepted it.
The moment his fingers brushed the parchment,
He understood—
"...."
This wasn't routine.
Something was wrong.
Throne Room...
Ben broke the seal and began to read.
As his eyes moved across the scroll, his expression hardened.
"...."
"The Royal Knights…"
He muttered while looking at the scroll.
Charlotte stepped closer.
Dorothy tilted her head, unusually quiet.
Ben continued reading.
A lake had been discovered.
Not water.
Blood.
According to the report,
Anyone who touched it lost their vitality almost instantly—
Strength drained, life fading, death following soon after.
Attempts to retrieve samples had failed.
Magic vanished on contact, absorbed as though swallowed whole.
"It's moving,"
Ben said quietly little stunned.
Harry nodded once.
-Nod
"Yes, Your Majesty. Slowly—but steadily. Toward nearby settlements."
The scroll went on to describe the damage left behind.
Grass withered to dust.
Trees collapsed into lifeless husks.
Flowers blackened and dissolved.
Even the land itself seemed sickened by its presence.
"It absorbs magic like a sponge,"
Ben read aloud.
"And its physical form…"
He paused.
"...."
"…is gelatinous. Sticky. Like living jelly."
Dorothy frowned.
-Frown
"Eww…"
Charlotte's brows knitted together.
"A corrupted spirit maybe?"
"That's the theory,"
Ben replied closing the scroll.
"A spirit that lost its meaning. Something far worse than simple corruption."
He lowered the scroll slowly.
A moving lake of blood.
Magic-draining. Life-consuming.
Ben narrowed his eyes.
-Frown
"…This isn't natural,"
He said while in deep thought.
"Not even by this world's standards."
Harry inclined his head.
"The Royal Knights are struggling to contain it. They requested guidance."
Ben exhaled slowly, mind already racing through possibilities.
A spirit without purpose.
A body that devoured mana.
A threat advancing toward civilians.
Something about it felt wrong.
"...."
Unfamiliar.
And that unsettled him more than the report itself.
Ben folded the scroll and handed it back to Harry.
"Summon the Royal Knight captain,"
He gave his order to Harry.
"David Tarven."
Harry inclined his head immediately.
"At once, Your Majesty."
He turned and motioned to one of the waiting royal guards.
The knight bowed and hurried out, boots echoing down the corridor as he went to carry out the order.
Charlotte and Dorothy remained silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Whatever was written on that scroll had shifted the room into something heavier than urgency—into concern.
It didn't take long.
Footsteps approached from beyond the doors, firm and disciplined.
-Thud. -Thud.
-Thud. -Thud.
Arrival of the Royal Knight Captain
David Tarven entered the throne room and knelt briefly, fist to his chest.
"Your Majesty."
As he straightened, his eyes went immediately to the scroll in Ben's hand.
Recognition flickered across his face.
"I see you've read it,"
David said quietly.
"I was the one who delivered that report to the castle."
Ben nodded while he looked at David seriously.
"Then you already understand the situation."
David's jaw tightened.
"Yes. And how dangerous it is."
Ben stepped forward slightly, voice steady but decisive.
"I want you to take a squad,"
He said while laying out his plan to first stop the moving lake.
"Only knights who can use rock, stone, earth—any magic tied to the land itself."
David listened carefully, eyes sharp.
"Build walls around the lake,"
Ben continued.
"Multiple layers. Test whether physical terrain and land-based mana can slow it, redirect it, or stop it altogether."
He paused.
"This isn't about destroying it yet. I want to know how it reacts when it's contained."
David nodded once.
-Nod
"Understood. We'll treat it like a living disaster."
"If it absorbs magic,"
Ben added while tapping his finger on the throne's arm rest,
"then brute-force spellcasting will only feed it. You'll need control, not power."
David brought his fist to his chest again in a crisp salute.
"I'll assemble the squad immediately and move out, We won't let it reach the settlements."
Ben held his gaze.
"Be careful. If this thing adapts… retreat. I won't have lives wasted on guesswork."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
David turned and left without hesitation, cloak swaying as the doors closed behind him.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The throne room fell quiet once more.
Ben remained standing, eyes lingering where the captain had exited.
The tension in the room eased slightly.
Charlotte adjusted her cloak and turned toward Ben.
"We should return as well,"
She said with a sigh and looked at Dorothy.
"We've been away from our squads for nearly a week."
Dorothy stretched her arms lazily, yawning.
-Yawn
"Mmm~ yeah. I bet there's lots of paperwork waiting for us."
Ben nodded.
"I figured as much. Thanks for staying through the Witch Forest with me."
Charlotte inclined her head then gave a quick kiss on his cheeks.
Dorothy waved cheerfully.
"Don't get into trouble without us,"
Dorothy added with a grin.
-Grin
They departed together,
Their footsteps fading as they left the throne room—
Each returning to responsibilities that had no doubt piled up in their absence.
Ben was left alone.
"...."
The castle grew quiet.
System Notification
Then—
A familiar sensation rippled through his mind.
A translucent interface unfolded before his inner vision.
[DING...]
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[New Task Available]
Ben paused.
"...."
[Target: Serial killer]
[Location: Rivermoor City]
[Pattern: Targets married women exclusively]
[Victim Condition:]
[– Head shaved– One ear removed– Nose severed– Right fist taken]
[Status: Active threat]
[Reward: 65 FP]
The information settled heavily.
[ Ding... ]
[ FP Bar: 62/500 ] --> [ New Alien: ??? ]
[ Ding... ]
Ben raised an eyebrow.
"…That's specific,"
He muttered to himself.
Rivermoor was a populated city.
Trade routes passed through it.
Families lived there.
The kind of place where people felt safe—
Until they didn't.
A serial killer.
A ritualistic pattern.
And victims chosen deliberately.
This wasn't random violence.
Ben exhaled slowly and dismissed the interface, his thoughts already shifting.
A corrupted spirit.
A moving lake of blood.
And now this.
"…Looks like things don't plan on slowing down,"
He said quietly while he went to his room to take a bath.
He straightened, gaze sharpening.
If someone was hunting civilians—
Especially with intent—
An hour later...
Ben had finished issuing the last of his instructions.
After getting a good bath Ben was ready to deal with the system task.
He found Harry near the corridor leading out of the throne wing.
"I'll be out for a while,"
Ben said simply.
Harry studied his face for a brief moment, then bowed.
"I will have everything prepared for your return, Your Majesty."
Ben nodded and turned away.
-Nod
He stepped into the royal garden,
Where trimmed hedges and marble paths stretched beneath the open sky.
The afternoon breeze carried the scent of flowers, calm and almost misleading given everything that was unfolding beyond the castle walls.
Ben stopped at the center of the clearing.
He raised his wrist.
The Omnitrix gleamed softly.
With a practiced motion,
He tapped the dial and rotated it,
The silhouette shifting until it locked into place.
"Jetray,"
He murmured.
He pressed the dial down.
A radiant green flash erupted,
Light folding around his body as his form reshaped itself—
Limbs elongating, wings unfurling, skin smoothing into aerodynamic perfection.
Where Ben had stood—
Jetray hovered.
He flexed his wings once, testing the air.
Then, with a single powerful flap, he shot upward, piercing through the sky in a blur of speed and emerald light.
-FLAP! -SWISH!!!
The castle shrank beneath him.
Clouds parted as he accelerated,
The world stretching into streaks of color.
En Route — To Rivermoor City
Below, forests, rivers, and roads rushed past in rapid succession.
Jetray adjusted his course instinctively,
Locking onto the direction of Rivermoor City.
'A serial killer,'
Ben thought, eyes scanning the horizon even as he flew.
'Ritualistic. Methodical.'
This wasn't just a hunt.
It was a message—
One he intended to silence.
"...."
High above the land,
Jetray surged forward, cutting through the sky at impossible speed.
And far ahead—
Rivermoor City waited.
Rivermoor City...
Riverside Tavern...
The tavern was half-full, thick with the smell of ale and damp wood.
At a corner table near the window,
A woman sat close to a man, her fingers wrapped tightly around her cup.
Her shoulders were tense, eyes darting now and then toward the door.
"I can't keep hiding this,"
She said quietly looking very guilty.
"He'll notice eventually."
The man leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"We'll tell him,"
He said, carefully measured.
"About us. About the child."
Her breath caught.
"...."
"And when he asks how it happened?"
"It was an accident,"
The man replied, placing a hand over hers.
"We didn't plan it. I'll find the right way to say it. Just… give me time."
She hesitated, then nodded slowly, trying to steady herself.
-Nod
"...."
They finished their drinks in silence.
Moments later...
They stood and left together, pushing through the tavern door and disappearing into the street outside.
"...."
As they passed a nearby table, neither of them noticed the lone patron seated there.
A newspaper lay open in front of him, obscuring his face.
He hadn't moved once during their conversation.
Only after the door closed behind the couple did the paper lower.
Cold, calculating eyes followed the direction they had gone.
"...."
A slow grin crept across his face.
-Grin
A quiet chuckle escaped his lips.
-Keke
"…As expected,"
He muttered while eyeing the direction.
"Trash womens."
He folded the newspaper neatly and rose from his seat, placing a few coins on the table.
"Incurable disease,"
He continued under his breath.
"That's what they are to men."
The tavern noise swallowed his words as he stepped outside.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)Thanks for reading the chapter!
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