Secondly, Alan had no logical way to explain to others how he had uncovered the locations of all three Silver Spears breeding bases. He had only been in Germany for a few days, and the first breeding base could be explained as having been located through his mental connection with the young Thunderbird.
But what about the other two? To discover three highly secure, hidden magical creature bases in such a short window of time was, frankly, quite astonishing.
Therefore, according to his tactical layout, he would first gather his forces to raid the first base, and then extract the coordinates of the other two sites from the minds of the captured guards. This approach would make the subsequent raids on the remaining two bases appear entirely logical to his allies. As for why Alan was so confident that someone at the first base would possess the coordinates of the other two sites? He didn't actually care if anyone knew; even if the guards' minds were completely blank on the matter, he could simply plant the information himself. After all, forging memories wasn't the first time he had performed such a procedure.
However, although the overarching plan was set, the specific execution parameters still required meticulous planning. For example, those breeding bases would definitely need to be scouted first to determine the exact number of guards, the geographical layout of the wards, and the approximate census of the magical creatures contained within. Then, enough specialized hypnotic potions to safely subdue these magical creatures would need to be brewed, along with enough high-grade jamming devices to completely blanket the breeding bases, preventing any emergency distress signals from escaping. At the same time, the general whereabouts of the active inner circle members needed to be determined in advance; otherwise, if multiple leaders unexpectedly converged on a base during the raid, catastrophic variables could easily disrupt the operation.
Alan first drafted an operational outline on a piece of parchment, and then wrote a coded letter to send back to Britain. This was intended for Newt Scamander. In the letter, Alan restricted his disclosure, merely stating that he had successfully located the facility where the young Thunderbird was being held and had discovered a massive concentration of other smuggled magical creatures alongside it. He requested that Newt prepare to assist in formulating a large volume of sedating potions and begin organizing a trustworthy extraction team, awaiting his formal signal.
After dispatching the message, he turned his attention to debugging his magical monitoring array, linking the live feeds from his surveillance tools directly to a central display. This included the parameters tracking the Silver Spears headquarters, as well as the private residences of Phoenix, Deformation Lizard, and Minister Peter.
Monitoring and staking out targets had always been exceptionally tedious work, but it remained a fundamental necessity. At this moment, almost all the monitoring feeds showed no immediate activity—including the main headquarters, which remained his primary point of interest. Fortunately, his diagnostics confirmed that the monitoring spider he had secretly embedded within the headquarters' reception room was functioning flawlessly, its transmission completely unhindered by the subterranean wards.
The headquarters' reception room currently sat entirely vacant, and Ashwinder was nowhere to be seen on the feed. Alan remained remarkably patient, sitting quietly in front of the display and keeping watch.
After maintaining his vigil for nearly three hours, movement finally registered within the secure chamber. The heavy door connecting to the central dueling arena swung open, and Ashwinder walked in, stretching his limbs while muttering incessantly. Although the transmitted audio was slightly distorted by the distance, the monitoring spider captured his words perfectly.
"This is an absolute nightmare, having to clean up the structural damage for those two idiots. It's utterly exhausting," Ashwinder grumbled, his voice thick with discontent.
From Ashwinder's solitary venting, Alan finally deduced where the man had spent his afternoon. It turned out he had been busy repairing the masonry of the dueling hall. Although the headquarters' central arena had been heavily reinforced with ancient structural charms, it had struggled to contain the raw heat of Alan's Fiendfyre attack, leaving several primary sections of the flooring partially melted. Reversing that level of elemental damage had clearly demanded a massive expenditure of magic.
Finding himself entirely alone in the room, Ashwinder couldn't seem to quiet his mind, continuing to complain bitterly about both Thunderbird and Nundu. But after checking the parameters of the room and satisfying himself that no one else was present, he finally unlatched the silver mask covering his face.
Ashwinder's face beneath the disguise was remarkably delicate, appearing entirely under thirty years of age, with short hair and a somewhat roguish, casual expression.
Alan nodded slowly in front of his monitor. *As expected.* This individual had clearly utilized the Elixir of Life; otherwise, it would be biologically impossible to preserve such a youthful appearance.
However, a logistical detail continued to puzzle Alan. Ashwinder functioned as the dedicated guardian of the headquarters, stationed within the facility year-round and rarely venturing into the outside world. This meant his coordinates were the most fixed and predictable element within the entire syndicate. Didn't this individual harbor any fear that an internal rival might deduce his precise shedding window?
It was well-established that other inner circle members who relied on the Elixir of Life preferred to bury themselves deep within the shadows, exposing their true countenances only a few times a year. For example, despite tracking Phoenix for several days, Alan had yet to catch a glimpse of her true features. Yet Ashwinder's operational schedule was public knowledge among all the leaders. If an internal faction desired to eliminate him, charting his monthly vulnerability window would not be a difficult task.
This anomaly left Alan deeply thoughtful. He formulated two working hypotheses: first, the guardian possessed a method that guaranteed absolute security during his twelve-hour shedding period, though this seemed unlikely given that his private quarters within the headquarters didn't project any unique or impenetrable defensive wards.
The second, more sinister possibility was that his specific shedding window was already an open secret within the leadership hierarchy, meaning he had no functional capacity for privacy, and his physical survival had simply been structuralized under the protection of another.
Alan suspected that this dependency was the true anchor of his security. It perfectly explained why he was granted such supreme trust—trusted to control the spatial entrance vectors of the headquarters, and authorized to oversee the secure archive and the primary material vaults. Simply put, he had already been thoroughly compromised by a superior power, his life force held completely in the palm of another's hand.
*So who exactly holds the leverage over Ashwinder's life—Golden Knight or Rune Serpent? Hmm. Regardless of who commands his loyalty, Ashwinder's behavior in dropping subtle hints to me earlier remains highly unusual,* Alan mused, recalling the guardian's parting words.
*Was he attempting to map my reactions on behalf of Golden Knight or the supreme leader? Or does he harbor his own hidden agenda, desperate to sever the administrative chains binding his longevity?* Alan shook his head, the variables remaining too fluid to extract a definitive conclusion. One thing was certain: Ashwinder was far more complex than his lazy, flippant facade suggested. His compliance was either tightly orchestrated by a hidden handler, or he was actively preparing a betrayal of his own.
Alan continued his silent analysis as the hours bled into evening.
Through the monitor, Ashwinder demonstrated exactly how a wizard enduring centuries of isolation managed to entertain himself within an enclosed subterranean space. The man possessed a highly developed capacity for self-amusement; he would sit and read an ancient text for a brief interval, pour himself a measured glass of spirits, and eventually produce a sleek, magical phonograph to listen to a symphonic record. Alan hadn't anticipated that his own commercial products would find their way into the absolute heart of the Silver Spears' high command.
However, just as he was casually observing the guardian's routine, the figure on the display suddenly turned rigid, his senses apparently detecting a shift in the outer wards. He instantly killed the phonograph mechanism, secured the silver mask back over his features, and strode out of the reception room toward the entrance hall.
When Ashwinder returned to the frame a few moments later, a second masked figure accompanied him. Another core leader had arrived at headquarters.
Alan's focus sharpened instantly. He leaned forward and dialed up the audio input on his console, preparing to analyze every syllable of the impending dialogue.
"Why do I invariably perceive an unnatural residual energy whenever I return to the headquarters recently?" the newly arrived wizard inquired, selecting a leather armchair in the center of the room.
"Heh. You managed to detect that? And here I thought I had restored the masonry rather impeccably," Ashwinder sneered, his voice dropping back into its familiar flippant tone. "You can attribute that structural anomaly entirely to Nundu. Why must the operational prospects you recruit always possess such volatile temperaments?"
*The prospects you recruit?* Alan caught the phrasing instantly. This confirmed that the newly arrived leader was none other than Golden Knight himself.
"Nundu? He arrived for his formal authority evaluation today?" Golden Knight looked toward Ashwinder, his posture conveying a mild confusion. "Given his current metrics, clearing the combat trial shouldn't have presented a systemic issue, correct?"
"Heh. The boy simply possessed the atrocious luck of scheduling his assessment on the exact afternoon Thunderbird decided to grace us with his presence. The old man announced he desired to relive his historical tenure as a combat instructor, and then..." Ashwinder completely omitted his own instigation of the event, delivering a highly polished summary of the absolute destruction that had unfolded in the arena.
"Thunderbird? What prompted his return to Europe?" Golden Knight shook his head, his tone laced with profound irritation. "The man is entirely unhinged. To unleash uncontrolled Fiendfyre within the structural boundaries of the headquarters... does he not comprehend the danger of destabilizing our localized spatial anchors?"
Seeing Golden Knight attempting to redirect the focus onto Thunderbird's sanity, Ashwinder refused to let the administrative point drop. "Do not deflect the issue, Golden Knight. I require an official explanation as to how a Level Two prospect managed to secure access to the Whirlwind Ice Storm matrix. That specific elemental spell is strictly gated behind Third-Tier clearance protocols. If he hadn't manifested that exact signature during the duel, Thunderbird would never have unleashed his fire blade."
Golden Knight shifted slightly in his chair, his posture betraying a trace of executive embarrassment. "I am fully aware that the allocation violated standard protocol. However, to ensure these high-value Ministry targets completely align themselves with our political agenda, a degree of administrative flexibility is occasionally required. Besides, Nundu had already verified his Level Two parameters; I merely accelerated his curriculum by a minor margin. I explicitly instructed him to preserve that spell as an absolute emergency option. Who could have predicted..."
"Who could have predicted that his fragile ego would shatter the moment Thunderbird offered a few standard insults?" Ashwinder cut in with a cold snort. "I maintain my historical position on this expansion strategy: these bureaucratic recruits are fundamentally untrustworthy. They harbor zero genuine loyalty toward the club's ideology; they view our archive merely as a private library to extract advanced combat spells for their own advancement."
"I am entirely literate of that risk, which is precisely why I am moving so aggressively to finalize their elevation to the inner circle," Golden Knight countered, his tone turning clinical. "The moment they consume their initial Elixir of Life allocation, their biological survival becomes structurally tethered to our infrastructure. They will never possess the functional capacity to defect from the organization."
"I comprehend the strategic logic, but our foundational regulations exist for a reason. You were the primary architect who codified those exact boundaries decades ago. I find your current lack of administrative principle deeply concerning," Ashwinder sighed, his tone conveying a genuine weariness.
"Perhaps the timeline in Germany has forced my hand slightly," Golden Knight admitted quietly. "I recognize that the rules must be maintained, which is why I am implementing corrective measures to ensure their combat metrics match their rank. The standard trials will not be bypassed moving forward. Shortly, Ghoul and Voldemort Bat will arrive at headquarters in sequence to undergo their formal Level Three evaluations. I will ensure their parameters are verified under the strictest interpretation of the code."
The analytical dynamic between Golden Knight and Ashwinder carried no trace of a traditional hierarchy. Their verbal exchanges occurred entirely on equal terms, sounding far more like two senior executives managing a shared corporate venture rather than a commander addressing a subordinate.