Fate permitted no doubt.

Once you invoke its power, you must accept its outcome, whatever that may be. You cannot try for a different outcome, nor can you demand further clarification.

That was proper respect for fate.

Ambrose had used the power of divination to let a withered leaf guide his way. If the leaf landed on a person, then the answer was that person. He could not use divination again to ask what that individual had to do with the divine artifact.

To do so would be to show dissatisfaction with the first answer, to try to get more information beyond what fate was willing to reveal. It was a sign of lack of trust.

That was the general idea, at least. Divine the same matter twice, and fate would grant you a lesson you would never forget.

So Ambrose did not hesitate. He chose the simplest and most direct method: to seize the man.

"Captain, cover me. I'll bring him back."

He cloaked himself in Greater Invisibility and slipped toward the center of the square.

At that moment, Monge Greywater was personally supervising the slaves' labor.

His luck had been abysmal recently. A well-planned ambush had ended in total annihilation. Then, under Ariel's threats, he had been forced to revise his stance, nearly provoking the king's wrath.

Now, he had no choice but to oversee the preparations of the Ragetide Legion himself.

The stormpriests of the legion were required to pray upon a specially constructed magic array, imprinting divine spells upon their bodies so that they could cast their combined spell instantly in battle, without any preparation.

The array demanded enormous space, and was far too large to be constructed aboard a ship.

Worse still, it was single-use. If they wished to store more spells, the entire structure would have to be rebuilt.

Despite all these restrictions, the array's power was terrifying. One strike could annihilate an entire city.

It was the Ragetide Kingdom's ultimate trump card. Monge dared not relax for even a moment.

He brushed a stray withered leaf from his head and roared, "You worthless rabble! Put your backs into it! Don't even think about slacking off!"

The overseers cracked their whips with renewed vigor. The slaves' backs split open; blood sprayed and screams echoed.

The efficiency seemed to improve, at least for the moment.

Monge nodded in satisfaction, only for a thunderous explosion boomed overhead.

Everyone instinctively looked up. A massive fireball had burst apart, scattering flaming fragments that began to rain down slowly.

"What is that? A fireball spell? It doesn't look like one..."

Still puzzling over who would cast magic into the sky for no reason, Monge suddenly felt a tremendous force slam into his waist. His spine felt as if it were about to shatter. Caught completely off guard, he toppled sideways.

Before he could shout, a portal opened in front of him. He pitched headlong into it.

Just before the portal closed, Monge saw someone standing at its threshold, someone who looked exactly like him. His double smiled.

"Damn it! He's trying to—"

The portal snapped shut. Frozen in time, Monge's consciousness halted. He could no longer think in a state of temporal stasis.

Ambrose now stood where Monge had been, already transformed into his likeness through a Shapeshifting spell.

The explosion in the sky had been his doing: a delayed-blast fireball. When it detonated, it drew every eye upward. In that instant, Ambrose had kicked Monge into his extradimensional space and assumed his appearance in one seamless motion.

For an ordinary mage, such flawless replacement would have been difficult. The plan required too many steps, each of which represented a potential mode of failure.

But the power of a legendary ranger granted him supreme agility. From invisibility to substitution to transformation, everything took place in an elegant sequence.

By the time the onlookers lowered their gazes in confusion, Ambrose had completely replaced Monge Greywater. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Next, he would simply find an excuse to leave. Then he could interrogate the bearded brute thoroughly. Perhaps the artifact was hidden in his own home.

"All of you, keep working."

Ambrose mimicked Monge's tone and strode off the square.

Some of the overseers found it strange. Hadn't the general declared he would supervise the array until its completion? Why leave so suddenly? But none dared question him.

Many assumed such high-ranking figures merely liked to posture. He had made a show of it and left. Who would willingly stand beneath the scorching sun longer than necessary?

Just like that, Ambrose successfully abducted his target and slipped back into the shadows.

After reuniting with Aige, he opened his extradimensional space and brought her inside. No one would find them there.

Aige stared at the captive suspended in temporal stasis and gaped in surprise. "This space of yours... How can this be? Even a legendary mage can't create a realm where time itself can be manipulated. This is practically a miniature divine kingdom."

Ordinary legendary mages could craft extradimensional spaces—but not ones this vast, nor with such control over time.

The moment she entered, she felt the power of time permeating the space. Even as a demigod, she found it impossible to resist the pull of time completely.

Ambrose did not conceal the truth. "I obtained it through a Wish spell. It does resemble a divine kingdom, but it's far inferior compared to the real thing. Now then, Captain, make yourself comfortable. Let me examine his memories."

He dispelled the temporal stasis.

The instant Monge regained awareness, his first instinct was to cast a spell and fight his kidnapper to the death.

But he didn't have the chance to do so. The aura of fear radiating from Ambrose shattered the magic he had begun to gather. Monge trembled violently, his legs giving way as he collapsed to the ground.

"Calm down," Ambrose said. "I merely have a few questions for you."

"Y-You... Who are you?" Monge stammered.

"Why does every captive ask something so meaningless? What does it matter who I am? Do you think you're in a position to ask questions?"

Ambrose raised three fingers. "I'll ask three questions. My patience extends no further. First: do you possess a divine artifact?"

"A divine artifact? Of course not! The Ragetide Kingdom doesn't even have one. How could I?"

A true divine artifact required enchantment infused with divinity. Such relics were exceedingly rare. A thousand years ago, the Lord of Storms had suffered heavy losses in war. He couldn't afford to grant artifacts to his followers.

"Second: when this city was founded, were there any unusual legends? The discovery of a strange seal, or traces of ancient magic?"

Monge shook his head frantically. "I've never heard of anything like that. Truly."

"Third: have you heard even the faintest rumor about an artifact related to time dragons sealed on this island by the elves?"

Ambrose's tone turned cold. Could this fellow really not know anything?

Monge sensed the impatience. "Yes! I know something about elven legends. I've read about it in a book—"

Before he could finish, crimson light flared from Ambrose's fingertips and struck him.

The scarlet energy carried devastating corrosive power. In the blink of an eye, Monge's body dissolved into ash.

Ambrose reached into the drifting cinders and seized his soul.

He had clearly been insufficiently devout. Otherwise, his soul would have ascended to his god's divine kingdom rather than falling into Ambrose's grasp.

Aige frowned. "What happened? Didn't he say he knew something?"

"He was stalling. Lying to a diviner is an exceedingly foolish decision."

With practiced ease, Ambrose unraveled his soul thread by thread, dissecting each memory carefully. But in the end, there was nothing to be found.

Monge Greywater truly knew nothing about any divine artifact. There weren't even any rumors that had been circulated.

"The trail's gone cold. That shouldn't be possible. Fate clearly pointed me here."

Ambrose began to doubt himself. Perhaps the withered leaf had not indicated the man, but rather the place where he stood. Perhaps digging beneath that spot would uncover the artifact.

It seemed plausible enough. "Captain," Ambrose said quickly, "I may have misinterpreted the sign. The leaf may have indicated a location, not a person. I'll go back and dig. You can rest here for now."

Keeping Aige hidden within the demiplane was safest. If danger arose, he could have the demigod support him at once.

Aige agreed readily. Though the pseudo-divine nature of the space suppressed her to some extent, she trusted the Elegiac Society's president. As fellow members of the Elegiac Society, Ambrose would not betray her.

Ambrose exited the demiplane, once again assuming Monge's form, and returned to the square.

He walked back to the original spot, a slightly raised platform at the center of the plaza. No one dared comment on his abrupt departure and return.

Circling once, he noted the ground was solid rock. Excavation would cause a considerable commotion.

If no one were present, he could conceal it with magic.

But hundreds of workers were laboring here. Avoiding attention would be difficult.

And he had no idea how deep he would need to dig.

The elves had hidden the artifact intending for it never to be found. They had left no clues whatsoever.

Ambrose was considering whether to dismiss everyone and begin excavating when a woman with long crimson hair, clad in chainmail, charged toward him. The closer she came, the brighter the lightning flashing around her body.

He recognized her from Monge's memories. This was Ariel, princess of the Ragetide Kingdom. But why was she advancing toward him so aggressively?

Lightning crackled around her as she raised her warhammer and roared, "Monge Greywater, you damned swine! You promised to reopen the ports! Who gave you permission to seize these fishermen as forced labor?!"