Merlin.  

There wasn’t a single person among smugglers and nobles who didn’t know that name. He was the man who appeared two years ago and wreaked havoc at the Empire’s largest black market auction—an event attended by high-ranking nobles—stealing countless artifacts and valuables.  

He acted alone, and no one could even lay a finger on him.  

They called him the Phantom Thief.  

Since then, he had appeared in many places, stealing treasures without leaving a single clue. Even the Empire’s best investigators had failed to find any trace of him.

After Merlin vanished from Ferno’s sight with the four large crates of goods, he reappeared in front of a group not far from the tracks, hidden deep in the thick woods. The crates, reinforced with spatial magic formations, were deceptively compact on the outside—yet each could hold far more than their size suggested. Together, they carried eight tons of magic stones, their weight compressed and concealed by intricate enchantments.

Two carriages stood nearby, surrounded by a few figures clad in black cloaks. A campfire burned softly in the cold night.  

By the fire sat a man with long, pale yellow hair, wearing a long brown coat and a black top hat. His eyes were covered with a red cloth, and he held a brown cane in his gloved hands. He was blind, yet calmly enjoying the warmth of the flames.

The moment Merlin appeared out of thin air and began walking forward, the man tilted his head slightly at the sound of familiar footsteps. He stood up, smiling delicately.  

"Was it easy, my lord?" he asked.  

"It was easier than I thought it would be," Merlin replied.  

The man chuckled.  

"Benjamin," Merlin said, calling his name. "Tell the men to get the goods. You should all leave soon—and don’t leave any evidence behind."  

"Yes, my lord," Benjamin answered. He shifted his head toward the cloaked men behind him, who nodded and began unloading the crates of magic stones.  

"Then I’ll be taking my leave," said Merlin.  

"Yes, my lord. Oh—and give my congratulations to Ezra for becoming the Knights Captain," Benjamin added with a smirk.  

Merlin gave a slight nod and vanished—using a spatial teleportation spell, a rare and powerful technique that allowed instant travel to any location the caster had previously visited.

In the Duchy of Ravengard, beyond the manor, a stone path led to a dark tunnel carved into the hillside, sealed with an old iron gate. Once used as a dungeon to imprison and torture enemies, it had long been abandoned. No one came near it anymore—it was too deep in the forest.

In front of the gate, a faint light shimmered.  

Merlin appeared out of thin air.  

He had teleported from Benjamin’s location to the duchy—once again using spatial magic, one of the rarest and most powerful attributes in existence. It allowed the user to travel anywhere they had been before, regardless of distance. Only one in a million possessed this magic.

As Merlin walked toward the manor, his appearance began to shift. His long black coat faded into a white shirt, the cane and hat turned to black smoke and disappeared, his pants and boots transformed, and finally—he removed the mask.

Beneath it, red ruby-like eyes gleamed under the moonlight.  

It was Kaisel.  

All this time, the infamous Phantom Thief had been none other than the Duke of Ravengard himself.

He smiled slightly in satisfaction.  

"I would love to see the expression on Joseph Luthbrecht’s face," he said softly.

Back to the present.

The Luthbrecht soldiers, along with Count Camelot, Delphine, and Ferno, investigated the theft. They scattered along the railway the train had traveled and searched thoroughly. They checked the train, but only found marks from the earlier battle on the roof.  

Nothing else.  

No trace of Merlin. No sign of the stolen stones.

In the Luthbrecht Duke’s manor, Count Camelot and Delphine made their way down a stone staircase leading underground.  

"Sigh... What did we expect?" said Camelot. "Even the Empire’s greatest investigators couldn’t catch him. What could we do with just a handful of men?"  

"Ferno said Merlin used special magic. The only spatial mages are in the Empire’s Magic Tower," Delphine replied.  

"And what exactly are we supposed to tell Duke Luthbrecht?" Camelot muttered with another sigh.

They entered a vast underground chamber filled with red-robed mages, all bearing the symbol of Luthbrecht. Some brewed potions, others conducted magical experiments.  

The Luthbrecht family was a house of powerful fire mages and alchemists—renowned for their mastery in both fields. Even the Empire’s Magic Tower paled in comparison, though few knew the truth.

Among them stood Joseph Luthbrecht, reading a document while a robed mage stood beside him. Camelot and Delphine approached and bowed.  

"My lord, you called?"

Joseph didn’t look up.  

"Did you find my stones?"

Camelot wiped sweat from his brow—partly from the heat, mostly from fear.  

"W-We haven’t, my lord. He didn’t leave a single trace."  

"Forgive us for our incompetence, my lord," Delphine added quickly.

Delphine, though selfish and opportunistic, tried to shield Camelot—not out of loyalty, but because Camelot was both his business partner and brother-in-law.

Joseph’s voice was cold and flat.  

"I’m only leaving you alive because you’re still useful to me. Leave now—before I burn you both to ashes."

"Y-Yes, my lord!" they both stammered, retreating quickly.

Joseph’s calm face twisted into rage.  

Flames began to swirl around his body.  

Even the mage beside him instinctively stepped back.

To be continued.