Between The Senses [Medieval Spy Fantasy]

[C.Z. Adams]

It was a quiet night in the rooftop courtyard of Scribe Dalin's manor, maybe a bit too quiet. Small watchtowers that surrounded the estate had no one watching. Thankfully the courtyard itself was actually manned by three guards, heavily armored and equipped with spear and shield. The three pairs of eyes swept through the luxurious courtyard garden and through the exposed sky above, unaware of the unmanned watchtowers. They saw movement and their eyes immediately flicked to what it was. It was the statue of a woman in a ballerina pose in the middle of the fountain, they could've sworn its mouth moved to smile but as they tried to focus on it, the smile went away.

The guards ignored the statue. It was just added last week and it has rained a few times since then, and every single time it seemed to smile but only in their peripheral vision.

Three pairs of eyes, carefully watching their surroundings, but another pair of eyes was watching them. Samuel, a man of modest build, though his armor made him bigger than he actually was. He assessed the courtyard.

Three high guards, each one of them most likely a specialist in one of the five senses. Spears and shields, my chances of success with them should be high enough if I play my cards right. The man thought to himself.

His eyes then traced the walkway of the courtyard to the overhang and into a hallway inside. One more obstacle and maybe another one beyond and I'm done. A few more steps before we find out more information on how deep this goes. If this doesn't bear fruit then we're back to zero. There should be something, no Scribe could have this much money, corruption is definitely a factor. Samuel thought.

Samuel was at the rooftops of the manor, just away from the mana controlled territory of the guards surrounding the courtyard. Mana was invisible to the naked eye but could be sensed once you have a deeper connection to the gateway of the senses. The mana flowed and thumped at an irregular rhythm, an obvious sign it was created by multiple people. He could sense their control of the area, if he made a mistake and crossed the threshold with even a finger, he would've been caught instantly. He was biding his time, analyzing each of the guards. Even though he was a talented fighter and ocular mage, three high guards were enough to maim him. He was positive he could make it out alive, but that's not the mission. He had to take it slowly.

Samuel was at the opposite side of the hallway and there was a guard right at its entrance. There were two more guards at the sides of the courtyard and they were routinely casting spells and methodically looking at their surroundings, one of them even casted an ocular spell to look at the rooftops but his eyes just glazed over Samuel as if he wasn't even there.

Using his own magic, he searched for his own connection to the gateway of his senses, he activated an ocular spell, piercing the veil of magic below.

Sneaky bastards, invisibility huh, though it seems theirs isn't as powerful as mine.

There were two invisible men in the garden of the courtyard below, obfuscated by ocular magic. Unfortunately for them, Samuel's specialty was ocular magic. Even though they were high guards, their magic was still lacking compared to him. He then circled the roof to see more hiding guards, but there were only the original three and the two invisible guards, five in total. That's why these three guards aren't in a patrol and just standing guard. Lure the overconfident invader in, and quickly deal with them in an ambush.

But something pricked at the edge of his enhanced vision. Something that weaved itself into his perception ever so slightly. The statue at the top of the fountain that was in the middle of the courtyard. It's smile that was so eerily bright and cheery now gone when it was in the focus of his vision. He tried to see through the veil of illusion but the statue remained as so. He had a hunch on what this meant, and he made a silent prayer that it wasn't the case.

More evidence that Scribe Dalin is this 'devil' we've been looking for? As Samuel thought that, his body tensed as he moved his hand to his sword, resting his hand on the pommel. Let this end here.

He jumped twenty feet in the air, the roof cracked before the strength of his legs, but he had already prepared a spell before. The sound of splintering tiles were muffled and could barely be heard even if you were right next to it.

His trajectory had him falling on top of one of the guards hiding in the courtyard. Samuel's iris broke apart like cracked glass, his body was beginning to light up, his body glowing and iridescent though for those without a connection to the senses, they would see nothing. His heart was beating erratically, his mind was racing with incoherent thoughts. As he fell, his eyes formed a coherent whole once again, his heart slowly began to beat a normal rhythm and his mind established its focus once more. It was then he was at the edges of the high guards magical territory. Just before he touched it, he grabbed a handful of these tiny marbles and threw them before he hit the edge of their magical territory. As the devices did their work, Samuel unleashed his spell and undid his invisibility.

As the marbles went through the magical territory, the world went white for the guards, but it was quickly suppressed by the enchantments prepared inside the courtyard. But as the enchantments worked in ending the magical effect, the devices persisted with its spell and made the enchantments busy.

It was then the world went white yet again. But this time it wasn't automatically blocked. And a soft thump was heard followed by a soft gurgle moan by one of the guards.

High Guards as they were, they immediately removed the blinding effect on their vision. But as the guards vision corrected, what they saw was five invaders all wielding different weapons and armor, running at them directly.

Samuel removed his sword from the high guard he killed from his ambush. The guards death created a burst of instability throughout the mana territory and it was enough for Samuel to sneak his own territory within. But that was all his ambush got him as the guards immediately removed his blind spell. Samuel rushed for the other invisible guard before they could compose themselves into a proper defense.

The guards went and tried to sound the alarm. But the tiny marble devices that fell on the courtyard disrupted their casting of the spell.

"Shit! They know our casting pattern!" One of the guards yelled.

"Use the other one then!" One shouted while raising their weapons.

"That's not working too!" A shaky voice replied.

"Forget that! Get in formation quickly!" Said the guard at the hallway entrance with an authoritative voice.

The two guards at the sides of the courtyard immediately went to the hallway entrance, wary of any attack by the five men as they were regrouping. They only had time to prepare one spell each to fire off. One used ocular magic and used a spell that messed with your perception of color. Another used auditory magic to rock their eardrum and make them off balance. But the spells seemed to not do anything to the invaders.

One of his illusions that was close to the invisible guard feigned deadly attacks on his command to keep him busy. Within just a few strides Samuel was on top of the guard and ended their life.

Controlling his illusions, he finally confronted the three guards that were making a formation in front of the entrance of the hallway. He made his two illusions including himself stop right in front of them and the other two flanked the three guards sides. His golden mana, conquering half of the courtyard.

"Worry not, your souls shall be judged fairly for the Maker sees all. Dalin might like to play devil, but you have a chance to surrender." One of the illusions said with a baritone voice.

The guards didn't reply, they just remained stalwart in their formation. Shields up and spears forward, already all three of them were preparing to cast a spell.

The illusions at the sides jumped in the air to divert their attention in the wrong place. The three at the front including Samuel charged the guards. The guards, not realizing the illusions weren't real, dealt with the jumping attacks but it was a mistake. Samuel immediately went for one of the guards at the sides who attacked the jumping illusions and killed them.

"Illusions!" The guard in the middle said. This guard instead of trying to attack, enhanced his own vision and realized it was only one person who was real. That revelation shocked him to his core. Especially with the knowledge that no one person could make this many illusions, that would mean he was…

But it was too late, too rattled and too confused; it was exceedingly easy for a fighter of Samuel's caliber to take advantage of it.

The pulsing mana throughout the courtyard dwindled little by little, the surge of power coursing throughout the mana territory, steadily being overtaken by a golden color. As one of the guards died a spike of arcana spasmed throughout the courtyard, mimicking the dying body it belonged to. One after another, similar oscillations of mystical energy did the same. Until there was only one, a glorious gleam of gold.

The clashing of steel finally came to an end until only the soft pattering of rain was heard and the soft breaths of the man with the sanguine stained sword. His illusions vanished, they were far too expensive to upkeep even with his substantial reservoir of mana. His mind eased in pain as he undid the illusions but another type of pain was surging through his consciousness.

The blood running down his sword felt heavy. It felt excessive to kill without question. But he had to anyway. There was a point in time where one had to fight back with ruthless efficiency. Samuel just hoped that this was the right time.

"I can't get distracted, if I fail we lose our last lead. Peter and everyone else are already risking their lives for this one chance. I have to succeed." Samuel muttered to himself. He couldn't communicate with his fellow team in this operation because in the middle of his mission his chatterbox got destroyed while he invaded the small watchtowers.

Just as he said that, Samuel heard almost inaudible screams coming from past this rooftop courtyard. They were doing their job. He needed to do his.

He then turned around to the statue. Its visage trying to worm itself in his perception.

Walking up to the fountain and jumping to the statue. Samuel reached into his pocket and took out what looked to be an amulet with an eye carved onto it. Pressing the quaint ornament onto the statue's chest, the amulet glowed and revealed the dense enchantments and the stony exterior of the statue rapidly aged and fractured. With each crack, a breath was heard from within. In the tiny crevasses of cracked stone, rainwater waded itself in, as if helping to give life to the being inside who so desperately needed it. It was then through one huge split of stone, the last major pieces fell off of the woman and she was human once again.

The woman fell from her pose but she was caught by the man in bloody armor. Her mouth agape, desperately trying to intake oxygen, but she overdid it and choked on some rainwater that found itself inside her throat. Softly and gently, Samuel took her next to the door opposite of the hallway, where the overhang saved her from intrusive rainwater.

Upon closer inspection, Samuel could discern some eye-catching features of the woman. She had striking green eyes and long wavy black hair. She is currently mumbling to herself some incoherent stream of thoughts. He could make out water and bakery from her babbling.

"Miss, it is going to be okay." Samuel said to the woman with the most comforting smile he could do.

The green eyes looked at him "T-they… t-hey…" The woman couldn't even let out her thoughts, let alone speak.

Looking around at the garden of the courtyard, Samuel picked out some Yunli fruit, yellow in color and about as big as a finger and similarly shaped like one as well. Though this one looked oblong & violet, trying to imitate a poisonous fruit at first, but being away from their natural habitat their control of mana was meager and it was easy to push aside and see through its true appearance. Gardening Yunli… He thought while shaking his head.

He then gave the fruit to the woman. "Don't eat too much, you'll get even sicker. Take your time eating this, okay?" Samuel said.

The woman appeared to acknowledge him as her erratic movements began to slow as she listened to him but she gave no verbal response.

That was all he needed. "Call for help once I'm done, I still have business to do in this place, don't worry if they suspect you to be the perpetrator of all this. Even if you get convicted you'll walk away soon enough."

Taking an absurdly big leaf from an exotic plant he didn't know, he wiped his sword clean of blood and began casting a spell lessening its odor and chemicals wafting from it from slicing apart so many people. Any competent olfactory or gustatory magician would find him out while he was walking through the hallway if he didn't do so. While he did so, he took every marble he threw in the courtyard, it would be wasteful to just leave them there, they still had some mana in them after all; there's also the fact they cost a commoner's life's worth of salary.

Walking through the courtyard and into the hallway of Dalin's manor rooftop, right before his office. Samuel's heartbeat began to flutter, his mind was racing as he reinforced his connection to his senses. Casting every spell he knew to detect any traps, illusions and people but there only one element showed up in his myriad of spells, a single person inside the office room, sitting behind the desk, it distinctly didn't feel comparable to Dalin's body shape. Suspicious.

The hallway was made of extravagant imported marble and had the austentatious art carving of a man staring at parchment while holding a quill on the left side of the wall. There were people watching him standing on a platform, as if waiting for him to sign it. Jameson's treaty of the hapticians, it seemed you had respect for this country Dalin. While on the right side of the wall it was a blank, rugged and corrugated stone wall as if it was a piece of parchment paper.

Finally, a few steps between him and the door. A final spell to find any traps, even using a wand to help his spell but it brought out nothing. Funnily enough, the spell informed him the door was unlocked.

Unsheathing his sword, taking over the surrounding area with his own mana, a glorious color of gold while preparing some offensive and defensive spells. He burst through the door, his nose was the first to notice the change, a strong rancid smell violently crept up his nasal cavity, Samuel immediately blocked his nose's capability to smell, though it wasn't perfect, he wasn't an olfactory magician and therefore couldn't completely kill the smell.

His nose wasn't the only sensory organ that was assaulted, the smoke climbed its way inside his mouth and he began to taste the rancid, acrid smoke that built up inside the room. Just like olfactory magic, gustatory magic wasn't his forte and his work to kill his taste senses was imperfect.

All the while his eyes watered because of the thick amount of smoke that hit his face, but he managed to reinforce his retina to avoid the chemicals affecting his eye. Immediately releasing a spell of enhanced sight, he saw clearly into the room. The ground was littered with hundreds of papers, there were even some pieces of paper that were blown away because of his breach and the sudden change of wind pressure in the room. He saw in the sides of the room, filled bookcases burning to the ground, with the smoke coalescing in the ceiling, moving towards the door he opened to the hallway.

And he noticed something far more important. A woman with a lean build and short straight platinum hair, with shadows lining her face was holding a stack of papers and ripping them apart and throwing them to the flames to the side of the room.

She finally looked at Samuel and beamed with joy. Despite the shadows covering her face, the familiar creases still showed up on the shadowy exterior and the smile was apparent on her face. If it was real shadows, it would be pure darkness, but magic scarcely followed the rule of the natural world.

"Too late." She said while putting on a helmet that didn't belong to any military, guards or adventurer parties in the country.

He noticed her miasmic black mana, compared to his it moved slowly but it hungrily swallowed everything it came across, looking more and more blurry. A blackout magician, huh. That's why I couldn't sense the smoke inside the room. Samuel thought to himself.

Should I retreat? From what it looks like the place is ruined. But there are still papers littered around the room but more likely than not they wouldn't contain anything important. His eyes, much the same as a lizard, independently looked at two things at once and examined the room. The desk right in front of him was unburnt and appeared to be relatively untouched. Chances were it was ransacked, but that tiny sliver of chance that he could rid this country of a deviant who liked to play devil, then he was more than happy to take that chance. Samuel made his decision. I have to act fast or else everything is going to burn down.

Once he made his move, he could sense a bit of delight from the woman. Whether his choice was correct or not would rely on his success. The black-clad armored woman's mana spiked unnaturally, she leapt atop the desk and while leaping unsheathed a handful of knives and threw them across his way. Each of them practically thrumming with energy, they were enchanted. Shortly after, she controlled her black miasmic mana and took control of half of the room, pushing back against the golden wave of energy.

Shit, another merged like me?! Samuel thought as his own eyes cracked again like glass and his own golden mana spiked in energy.

Stopping his gait towards the desk, he brought out the marbles he threw previously and scattered them against the knives. Each of the marbles, weaker than before, thrummed with energy and counteracted the enchantments of the knives. But as they went against each other, sparks of multicolored mana crashed against each other, but it was apparent the tiny devices couldn't handle the knives and let two knives go through.

Samuel already leapt to the side to evade the knives that went through, simultaneously his spellcasting didn't stop while he reinforced his vision, hearing, taste, touch and smell. The two knives exploded, one knife burst into a cacophony of wretched sounds that pierced his reinforcement of hearing, his hearing was now useless and he even lost his sense of balance. It was clearly made by an auditory magician as it cleanly went through his defenses. The other erupted though the effect was invisible even to his own mage senses, but then he felt a coat of uncomfortable slimy transparent energy that clung to his skin. The room suddenly felt that much hotter, the warmth of his armor more acute and the heat of the room felt comparable to that of the flames of hell. His body reacting to it began to sweat bullets and steam was beginning to waft from his own armor from the quickly drying sweat. When he moved, he could feel the intensified blaze from his metal armor, though he wasn't literally being burned alive, his magically enhanced sense of touch only made him perceive it that way.

The woman continued her warpath, taking the darkness emitted by the enormous amount of fumes in the room, she willed it to be dimmer, to the point where his earlier spell of being able to see through the room was being counteracted and his usual glorious gold colored mana was being tainted by a dark seedy miasmic energy. While this was happening, the woman was gunning for the door.

Shit! If she closes that door then I'm truly fucked, she'll have full advantage in a fight inside a near-lightless room, it doesn't matter if I even have my mana territory there, the energy of the room will be sent into her advantage. Samuel thought while he dealt with ringing in his ears, loss of balance and his skin that felt the scorching heat as if he was inside the flames.

As she ran through the room, to her surprise, the magically deafened and faux-burning man was still able to cast spells left and right that made crossing the room difficult. Even more miraculous was the man with no hearing and increased sense of touch, ran for her, even with his loss of balance, he charged her.

Good, good! The woman thought. While she could've chosen to fight him while he was incapacitated, she was well aware he was highly trained to fight with less than his full array of senses and could defend until he had his bearings again. But this was ridiculous, she could sense him repairing his own senses while casting spells. Enhancing her own sight she could see behind his helm and saw both of his eyes were cracked apart like a shattered pane of glass. More importantly, one of his eyes was independently looking downwards and guiding his feet where to step because of his loss of balance.

"Twice Tiered, Merged and Gifted!" The woman said then immediately after cackling like a madwoman. Realizing she couldn't close the door, she turned and fought him instead. Since she realized he was one of the gifted that could perfectly multi-task, trying to close the door was a bad strategy, he had the equivalent of someone casting for him and she was only one person, she had to put her focus on him. But there was a downside to his amazing gift. The more he did, the more mana he consumed than normal, even just trying to concentrate on independently controlling his limbs consumed mana. The answer was simple: feign for the door and give him as many things to focus on, burn his mana to the ground.

Arranging her black miasmic mana as lances, she began to focus on destroying his controlled mana territory. Raising her saber, she swung at him, relentlessly. One attack after another, switching from physical to magical to feigning for the door. Then she released a spell within the pressured mana territory to completely take over a portion of his control.

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Samuel's mind was a mess, while he was repairing his hearing and touch, he was dealing with her mana territory attacks and physical attacks. He focused, he focused until his mind was killing him, he focused until he could feel his veins on his head bulging and his heart palpitating. The situation was borderline impossible, but if anyone was going to do it, it was him.

What could he use as an edge? He already used up all of his marbles. With how it was going, he was going to lose mana fast and soon after that fall to her blade. He looked throughout the room. He smiled. The answer was always just beneath the surface.

Even with a room full more of smoke than fire, the blazing roar of the heat was more than enough for his uses. Almost like treasure hidden away, the light beneath the smoke became his weapons to wield. Utilizing the fire in his side of the room, he amplified their light and fought against the miasmic black mana. The man, through his efforts felt his maimed senses come back to normal. His tarnished golden mana, regaining their full luster. Right now, to the woman, he appeared as though she was fighting the sun itself, unyielding and unrelenting. He unsheathed a second sword, knowing he had the advantage if she was focused more into the physical angle of the fight and he had free reign on the magical aspect.

It was as if he was a candlelight, fumbled down into the floorboards that turned into a smoldering disaster. The light emitted by the fire became his fuel, while his reservoir of mana was practically being burned to the ground, it seemed as if the woman was going to burn alongside it. The room became luminous, the shadowy likeness of the woman becoming clearer and clearer.

While the woman did try to amplify the darkness the smoke brought, she couldn't do what he could. Which was being able to focus on multiple things at once perfectly. She had a choice, defend physically or defend magically.

Just as it was normal that prey be killed by a predator. It was child's play for him to conquer her territory, he was essentially three people at once with his multi-tasking of spellwork and mana control. While she was just one person, a strong fighter and magician, but still, only one person. The light gave him the edge he needed to make his conquering of her territory easier and more efficient. Dalin's office was becoming crystal clear under Samuel's perception.

The woman was being driven back, the dual bladed style of the man being too much for her to handle. She was beginning to be riddled with slashes and stab wounds. Her head thumped in sharp pain as she desperately clung onto her territory. It looked more and more apparent she was going to die, but as she was pushed back, she was beginning to laugh, like a child who couldn't control their emotions. Samuel could now read the scattered papers on the floor of the office that were inside his control, papers he thought were meaningless, now more important than ever. His smile was gone.

Spell after spell, her black mana was savagely being battered down and replaced with golden light. The desk was the only important piece he couldn't clearly perceive. Her inky impish energy desperately hid what was beneath.

A cackle.

Until she was pushed back to the desk. And he saw clearly inside them, using his ocular magic to create an eye to survey inside the drawers. Samuel was reminded why there was darkness in the first place, to hide the things not meant to be in the light.

A snicker.

His blade slashing through this fiery hellscape, the trajectory of his blade was true. But he stopped his swing. Centimeters before her neck.

She looked at his blade, smiling wide. She saw the edge, shaking. She saw inside his helm, his eyes crying.

"How… How is this possible?!" Samuel shouted.

She smiled. "You are weak."

His legs gave out under him. Removing his helm. He unsheathed his knife and sliced through both of his eyes in one clean swing.

What he saw here today was not something to be seen. How could it be real? It wasn't possible. Yet it was. The country he knew and loved, was bound for ruin. They were too late.

May someone stronger than me, do what I couldn't do today… Almighty Maker save us all.

The woman then beheaded him. The roaring flames sputtered and instantly weakened, being taken over by the smoke. His body was being charred and buried in a cloud of smoke and ash, dying with the knowledge he was burdened with. Shadows once again ruled the night. She looked at his body, she saw a sun slowly setting behind his severed head. She blinked and it was gone.

 

[C.Z. Adams]

The room was dark. A man, unperturbed by the absence of light, walked inside the building with no hesitation in his cadence. The building he was in appeared to be a bar, albeit extremely unembellished, it didn't even have chairs or tables for patrons to sit on. It only had the classic counter and stools every bar had. The cupboards and shelves, except for one keg of beer, were completely empty of drinks, though they were full of dust, webs and dead insects. He walked behind the counter and began to serve himself drinks. Pulled out three mugs and poured beer into them. Placing the two drinks in front of two empty stools, he walked over to the front again and sat down next to the mugs and began to drink himself.

Dust that had settled down years ago, stirred again into motion by the man who gave life to the previously dead establishment, it swirled around the man's head. He slowly drank his beer. From his demeanor, he expected no one to come. At the edge of his hearing, he heard quiet conversations, the soft thump of far away drinks being put down and laughs echoing. Though he was non-reactionary. Some people believed it to be spirits, using illusions to make themselves known to the living. Some just believed it was part of the world, natural phenomena that had nothing to do with the spiritual realm. But the man…

It wasn't obvious as he wasn't looking around but his focused expression and slightly hunched over posture gave away that he was shrewdly trying to figure out the origins of the illusions, his face while no one would notice in the dark, looked a bit… hopeful. The man shook his head, chastising himself for having such silly thoughts. Finishing his drink, he slammed his mug on the counter, making the other two undrunk drinks ripple in effect and the dust that was swirling around him was sucked up by the force of his slam and dispersed away from him. "I did it. I bought a bar. Both of you looked so happy when you were dreaming about buying one…" As he said that the stoic exterior of his face slowly broke. Being reminded of the memories he so desperately wanted to be fake. "They're going to answer for what they've done. I promise you that."

The man then lit up two candles and put them in front of the drinks. Getting himself ready, he equipped his locksteel armor, utilitarian in fashion and only covered the most critical parts of his body for as much mobility as possible. His under armor was similarly lackluster, just a simple black gambeson and trousers. Locksteel was an alloy of lockaria scales and steel that made the armor have a dull gray tint. He stowed away a menacing looking mace that was made of similar locksteel, he also had a shortsword and assortment of tools but it was obvious he favored his mace. Going out the backway of the semi-abandoned bar into the alleyways, making sure to lock the bar before he left. The outside light, finally illuminating the features of the man. He had deep bags under his crimson eyes, his black hair cut short military style. Continuing his gait, he entered the city at large.

He was in Slab Glosso, one of the five slabs in the Councildom of Threinas. Lutinae is the name of the capital city of Threinas which resided in the middle of the four slabs. Lutinae was also used to name the huge chunk of landmass that comprised the slab cities, valley cities that ran through between the valleys of the slabs and outer valleys. A lot of foreigners or citizens from provinces get confused about that fact. Still, this was the beating heart of Threinas, where everything happened from passing inane laws to radical change.

Walking through the streets of Glosso. He noticed some kids playing with plywood and sliding down the ramp-like bottom part of the wall of one of the houses. A disgruntled old man came out of the house and yelled at them.

"Stop sliding down my damn house you brats!" An old man with more wrinkles than face wagged his stick at the children. "Those are one of a kind mermen foundations!"

"We ain't down the ocean old man! It's not going to break with some sliding!" One of the older kids said.

"Yeah! Let us play!" Said a chorus of the kids.

"Why do you even care? You're not even a merman!" The older kid who was obviously the leader of this pack said. One of the younger kids, emboldened by his leader yelled out incoherent streams of sounds and got a laugh by the group.

"It's my damn house!" Yelled back the grizzled old man.

The red-eyed man walked past them with a wry expression. He heard them still arguing even when he was a fair ways away. He was new to this part of Glosso, he never saw this many residential buildings. But this was part of owning a bar and he seemed to darken a bit at the thought.

He saw a carriage line, pulled by wolves, though they were as big as a horse and their necks and heads were as big as one too. It was going to take forever if he wanted to walk all the way to his destination. Glosso was too big for that.

Riding a carriage, he didn't know why but he felt like he had a new perspective of this city. It seemed owning an establishment just changed your relationship with it rather than just living in it. Looking out the window, he saw a stark difference when he visited Slab Lutinae, it was definitely different from the traditional Threinas architecture of sharp points protruding more than they should with accented swirls and curves. Here, it seemed it adapted many of the provinces of the country's style which had more rounder shapes, even some of the mermen with their beefy bottom part of the wall where it was firmly connected to the ground. It also had indents within the wall that he imagined if he could see the air, it flowed through the indents and smoothly flowed out of the house. A style of evolving with living under the ocean.

He saw a myriad of people. Mostly merchants and warrior-looking people. Every corner, there appeared to be a person in armor, or at least had a weapon at their side even when they weren't part of an army or an adventurer party. Nobody really takes a second look at them. It was normal after all. Any culture is bound to change when men and women in armor, constantly advertising themselves, either with their results or promised potential and selling dreams of great wealth. And this gloomy man was going to their very base of operations. The adventurers guild.

Getting off the carriage. The mace-equipped man went inside the impressive looking building. If Glosso was the capital of radical architectural style, then the adventurers guild was the very example of that. It somehow combined several styles into one and the very feat of it inspired determination in people. A show of greatness, as if it conquered a great beast, mirroring the very adventurers it supported inside.

As he entered. There was a slight stop in hubbub. The people here seemed to know him. Everyone inside gave a nod to him and he nodded back. Even the newer recruits sensed the mood and gave the red-eyed man some room. As soon as this weird energy entered the room, it just as quickly went away and the people inside did their work, except for one person.

"Julius! I've been waiting for you, my good man!" A happy-go-lucky rotund man walked up to the broody man.

"Daniel…" The man known as Julius said with an exacerbated sigh.

"Oh come on now! I've told you to just call me Dan, and more importantly have you considered the opportunity I've presented you with?" The portly man said with expecting eyes.

"I didn't consider it, no." Julius said while staring Dan in the eyes. That got some snickers out of some adventurers who were listening to the conversation.

Daniel, unperturbed by Julius, laughed. "Oh you!"

"In any case, I have something to do." Without waiting for a reply verbally or even waiting to get Daniel's reaction to his statement, he walked off the lobby and into the upper floors of the adventurers guild.

As Julius went up. Some of the adventurers, feeling bad for Daniel yelled out to him. "Dan! Come over here and drink your sorrows away!"

Daniel perked up. And seeing no reason to refuse said. "Why not." As he went towards the table he then asked the adventurers. "I think my only choice might be to increase the pay of my contract."

"Hah. True, pay is too low for a band of adventurers and too risky for a solo, duo or trio! If Julius isn't taking it, then no sane mind would." One of the men with a poleaxe said.

"Plus, I doubt he's going to accept any requests now." Said a woman who, unlike her team members, drank water.

"Why is that?" Daniel was perturbed by that. As far as he knew, Julius was an incredibly determined adventurer, one to never turn down a request too ridiculous as long as it paid well. And he was far from retirement age.

"He hasn't taken up a contract in two months. I think he's done." She said.

"Well, I hope not." Daniel murmured while gulping down a beer.

—------

Julius went up to the upper floors of the adventurers guild. It was used for meetings between a patron and usually a band of adventurers. It could also be used by normal people who just want to meet up and discuss something in neutral territory and had privacy enchantments that no common man could get for his own home. Julius was using it for the latter.

Entering one of the rooms Julius saw a merchant. He was easily identifiable, clothing that had frivolous frills and folds that was a bit too expensive for some random person to wear and not too luxurious to be mistaken for one of the elite in the city.

The man stood up from his seat and bowed with textbook form. "Julius, good to see you."

Julius nodded to him and closed the door and the merchant man pulled a lever and it activated the privacy enchantments of the room. It did a cursory inspection of any lingering spells and blocked any sense magic from being able to peer in.

After that happened, Julius layered his own spells. Not trusting the capabilities of the guild enchantments.

Both of the men sat. "Elias, do you have what I need?" Julius asked without any notion of prolonging the meeting.

"My, you are impatient. But yes, I have managed to find a gang of loan sharks and their hideout. This is just a small one, I'm afraid." He said with a genuine tinge of sadness in his voice.

"That's fine. Big beasts are found by the smallest tracks. Where are they located?" Julius asked.

"They're operating in one of the valley cities of Lutinae, specifically in Groundward Gorge. Their base of operations can be seen here." The man handed him a map. It was near the red-light district of Groundward Gorge or more commonly known as Gorge by everyone else. The Gorge itself was in between Slab Kortlea and Glosso. Lutinae was in the middle and bordered the three valley cities.

"Hmm..." Julius took the map.

"From my investigation, they're specifically targeting women with exorbitant interest rates and when the debt adds up too much, they 'recommend' them to work at one of their 'bars'." Elias said with obvious sarcasm.

"It looks like their tactics haven't changed at all." Julius said. Though he was trying to hide it, there was clear anger behind his voice.

"They have about twenty people. Are you sure you don't need any help?" Elias asked.

"These are just some small-time thugs. Unnecessary." Julius quickly shot down Elias' suggestion.

"If you say so. Here are the capabilities of their members" Elias handed him another piece of paper. "Some of them are competent enough to wield some magic, though they're street-learned, not exactly the best control nor application."

Julius looked through the list. There wasn't really anyone to look out for.

"I also recommend we don't meet here in the adventurer's guild anymore. If these loan sharks find out someone's targeting them, they're bound to search this place first." Elias said.

"I know. Don't worry about that. I already bought some property. Should have it more secure than these meeting rooms soon enough."

"Your bar then?"

"No, I bought a building sometime ago."

"Ahh, that's good then. It's about time your adventuring exploits got you some real money. Which of your patrons finally pulled through?"

"It was Kellen."

"Ahh, the little enchantress herself." Elias nodded to himself.

"In any case. I'll be on my way. The building privacy enchantments should be done in a week, we'll keep using the adventurer's guild for now, all we're targeting is the small-timers anyway. I'll contact you then."

Both of them stood up and shook hands.

—-----------------

A band was playing today in the Sheathed Sword. Their style was quite beautiful actually. It had this certain sultry flavor to it that made you want to find a partner and dance. Though reality was mostly a bunch of drunken idiots making a fool of themselves and adding themselves to the list of asinine stories that happen in the Gorge.

But the melodic tune didn't do anything for her headache. She was upstairs of the bar and currently had her hands holding her head, keeping it together as if she were to let go her head would split apart. She could still imagine the viscous liquid that dripped on her inner thigh. She was thankful that the migraine was beginning to busy her mind from thinking about that. Especially when it distracted her from thinking how many men she went through in one night.

She was beginning to taste sweetness in her mouth. That wasn't good. She rushed to one of the basins around and puked. Her thoughts went along with it. There was no coherence, just a stream of 'oh please stop puking' and pounding the basin like it was responsible for it.

One more. She thought to herself. One more guy and I'm free from these parasites! These devil people that deserve to have their ass violated by a housecat. Oh how I'd love to stab all of them. How I'd love to– Before she could finish her thoughts, she began puking again.

Her mind wasn't the same anymore. She went through life like she was a mindless droll. She barely remembered that she left the room and went to one of the upper floors where she is to pay her due to her handler. It was as if her mind was trying to save her from pain by making her memory blurry. But the hope in her eyes of only going through this once more, of being able to be free was awakening her mind once again. Just one more.

Entering the office. It was the same as usual. He was busy doing some sort of paperwork where she was sure it was illegal in the first place. She put down the money he was owed.

"Good work" He said. Those words were like a knife to her. Good work? Good work doing what? Doing what you want because you forced a ridiculous amount of debt on me? Her fists were curled. Her long nails digging in her skin, pricking the layer of skin and shedding blood. The veins were apparent on her arms. But he didn't seem to notice.

She forced herself out, but before she could.

"Wait." He said.

Her heart dropped. She didn't know why. There was nothing to warrant for her to feel like this. But this wasn't normal. He never tried to stop her before. So, why stop her now?

"Just so we're clear, once you're done with another guy. That only clears your financial debt to us. You still have more to pay." He said without even looking up at his paperwork.

"Wh-wh-what?!" Her eyes told everything she was feeling right now. But the man didn't even look at her.

"We have every proof in the world of what you've done here. The disgusting things you did. We even have the men who are more than willing to give their accounts of how you pleasured them. If you want to live your life normally. You still have more to pay." He said it like he was dealing with his taxes.

She was shaking. The entire fiber of her being. Outraged. She wanted to do something. There was a knife right there on the desk. It would be easy to just stick it in his neck. There was a chair, she could try to bash his head in.

Come on, Eve. It would be easy. Just move your hand and grab the knife and stab it through his neck. It would be so easy…

Her arms were moving ever so slightly. Moving towards the desk. But he noticed it and grabbed the knife casually and pointed it at her. Just as it happened, the room suddenly felt more, touched? She couldn't put her finger on it. But it felt like a firm grip suddenly took hold of the entire room.

She knew that this person could cast some spells, but she wasn't aware he was this strong. She closed her eyes. Terrified of what was going to happen. The sweat dripped down her body and was even more acutely felt, like it was distracting her from her untimely demise. But as time went on, nothing happened. Then she heard footsteps. Steady. No change in rhythm. It was like a metronome. She finally opened her eyes and saw her handler frozen, his eyes moving erratically and when their eyes met a chill went down her spine. She didn't dare turn around.

The footsteps grew louder. Until she could feel this figure at her very back. He moved around her. She could see him now. Red armor that covered the critical parts of his body. It was ornate but the design was cracked, split and distorted. The parts underneath the crimson armor were black and had the same ornate design that was defiled.

The crimson armored man walked up to the person she despised so much. And punched his neck straight through. His hand cleanly passing through any defenses he tried to muster up and caving in his throat to where the front of his throat touched the chair he was sitting on.

Suddenly, the room felt much better to breathe in. She didn't even realize how hard she was breathing. The grip she felt loosened its hold on the surrounding area.

"Tell me where the others are." The man commanded with a distorted voice.

 

[C.Z. Adams]

She was still shaking. The punch made a crunching sound that she didn't want to remember. He was staring at her with his red distorted-ornate helm that covered his entire head leaving no gaps. Why was he staring at her? Her heart jumped and paranoia gripped her mind, was she going to be killed as well? She played the events back as fast as she could.

"Th-the others… Do you mean the other members of the Rapiers?" Eve said as she took a small frightened step backward.

"Yes." His voice was scratched and sounded like there were two people talking. There was a part of it that sounded like his voice box was made of steel and a part that sounded inhumanely low. He must've been using magic. Though Eve could be convinced it was his real voice, Arrelyn was vast after all.

"Th-they sh-should be further inside." Eve said. They were in Groundward Gorge and the Sheathed Sword was built into the walls of the Gorge itself. They were at the top floor of the building but it was the part that stuck out of the wall of the Gorge.

The man didn't respond but he recognized her answer as good enough and he walked out of the room. He continued his gait, the same rhythm, it had no irregularity. She realized he would be killing everyone inside. She would no longer have to be under them, the thought made her eyes water. She gathered the courage and said.

"Thank you."

But he was already out of sight and into the corridor of the top floor of the bar. The urge to leave compelled her. But not before taking what was hers and raiding their coffers.

She heard the music change down below, the sultry music turned into an energetic one. There was a mixture of drums, trumpets and stringed instruments. If she was on the first floor, she would likely see a visual performance as well. But the performance she wanted to see most was walking through the corridor.

—---------------

He walked further in. The corridor was quite wide, having the capacity to have four men walk abreast. There were three rooms, one at both sides and another one at the end of the corridor. He commanded his presence to cover the entire corridor, the crimson haze signaling what was to come. He was definitely found out as he did that, he felt the warning enchantments activate as his territory touched it. He couldn't hear what was going inside the three rooms in the corridor as they were soundproofed, magically and physically. He could only imagine the shocked movements they were making as they bumped the furniture to try and repel the invader.

He knew there were no escape routes, they were at the very bottom of the Gorge, where the sun was constantly blocked by the upper floors and bridges of the valley city. More importantly, because of the neglect, there were no extensive wall ways or alleys and shops on the bottom part of the Gorge and the Sheathed Sword was no exception.

The three doors opened simultaneously. The ones who could do magic, immediately tried and pushed his territory away. But their control was laughable. To him, it was comparable to that of a kid holding a sword, still quantity was a quality of its own and the three magicians of the group managed to salvage a quarter of the corridor's space.

The man saw ten men with haphazard outfitting of weapons and armor. It had no cohesion. They were no high guards of the council. Still, the quality of their equipment was unbefitting of people of their stature and the man in red armor, boiled in rage as he thought the amount of people they had to have coerced and violated to get them.

The men who went outside didn't exchange pleasantries. He felt the same. They put themselves into a formation, though it was obvious they hadn't really practiced any sort of organized defense. Only the vague notion of blocking any spells that might come from their only magicians and overwhelm him with numbers.

This should be the rest of them. I've already eliminated ten. That little rat did well for organizing these fools into one spot. The crimson armored man thought to himself.

The three magicians started their spell casting, if they didn't push away the territory first, he would've had free reign to try and disrupt their casting. Worse than that, he could've just casted a spell faster than them and kill them easily. They all seemed nervous, the fact that they couldn't just blow away his territory was enough to make them realize his strength.

The mages prepared their spells. Two of them almost fell to the burden of it, their nerves of facing a dangerous enemy distracted their focus on the connection of the senses and they almost knocked themselves out then and there. Though the mage with one eye managed to calm himself to where his spell casting wasn't so dubious.

"Careful you louts. Tough guy over there has some strong magical capability. Charge when I give the signal." A man said with one eye. He appeared to be the leader of this merry crew.

Nervous nods were shared all around. The man before them hasn't made a single move, content to let them finish their preparations.

"As the Adjudicator. I sentence all of you to death. I have already killed half of your Rapier Gang, you shall follow them shortly." The layered low metallic voice resonated throughout the corridor. "Especially you, Hart. I have a special place in hell for you." The man known as the Adjudicator pointed to the man with one eye.

The three criminals were close to finishing their spells, they weren't professionals and were quite slow in their casting. They were trying to solidify the main senses of their men including themselves and to make it harder to disorient them in any of their senses while also enhancing it. The man that called himself the Adjudicator didn't seem to mind letting them finish. As they finished, the one with the single eye gave the signal and all nine of them charged except for the leader. He was preparing his own spell and his head became visible with bulging veins, the spell taking him to his limit.

The Adjudicator met their charge. It was better for momentum to be met with momentum. His speed, far more superior than any of them, had already closed the distance before they could get halfway in between them in his prior position.

Just before the crash, the Adjudicator released his own spell, on his penultimate step his already overwhelming speed spiked in its velocity. He crashed into the sorry thug who was in the middle, crashing along the man behind him with the force of a carriage pulled by great wolves going at full speed. The one that was directly charged died instantly, his internal organs ruptured by the violent crash, his armor doing nothing to save him. The one behind him, suffered the same fate but to a lesser degree, but he doubted he was going to survive the night even if the Adjudicator left now.

Ten was turned into eight. The remaining thugs, while scared, strengthened their hearts and attacked the Adjudicator. If they had a moment, they could've analyzed the threat and would be more likely to retreat, but they were already in the thick of it.

Simultaneous attacks went towards the man. Alongside with magically enhanced ones. From what the red-armored man could tell, there was one acoustician who enhanced his warhammer's impacts with intense vibrations and another optician who tried to blind the Adjudicator with a flash of light.

The Adjudicator didn't even move. He let the attacks go to him. A crash of steel savagely echoed throughout the corridor. While this was happening, Hart finished his spell. A torrent of air surged around him and he breathed it all in, his veins all over his body, bulging in effect. He did a small hop, the small action was unnaturally effective letting him clear a meter without effort, all of his actions were inhumanely fast. He conjured performance enhancing chemicals through his olfactory magic, fitting for a street rat like himself. Hart unsheathed his rapier, casted an imbue spell he was extremely familiar with to the point he was as fast as a professional olfactician in casting it. He crouched into a fencing stance and lunged for the Adjudicator.

But as they all saw. The Adjudicator was standing. None of the attacks broke through his haptic guard. He picked up two of the thugs by the jaw and crushed it instantly. Though as he did so, a man, drugged to all hell lunged towards him, aiming directly for his throat, unperturbed by his two dead compatriots.

The Adjudicator still didn't evade the attack, the stab struck true and as they crashed into each other, pushed the crimson armored man back followed by a loud torrent of air passing by.

There was another layer to Hart's attack. The rapier was imbued with a strong smell, one powerful enough to stun someone who was not ready for it. Hart trusted his spell and went on the offensive once more.

His speed, matching that of the Adjudicators without his enhanced step, closed the gap instantly. But his rapier was deflected casually to the side, his olfactory spell failing to stun the Adjudicator. Hart tried to jump back but the man kept up with him and he was delivered a blow to the chest. Hart was sent flying to the edge of the room, hitting the door.

Coughing. He must be covering himself in some sort of barricade. "He's a damn haptician! Should've been obvious with how he's casually tanking your attacks." I fucking hit his throat and he's standing there nonchalantly. He must've concentrated his haptic guard when he saw me go for his neck. He's also good enough with olfactic magic to resist my spell… Hart defiantly stood up, though he was hurt he casted a quick ammonia odor spell which shocked him back to stand up.

"Is this motherfucker actually one of the high guards?!" One of the thugs said.

"Who the hell did you piss off Boss?!" Another shouted.

"Let me show you something even more interesting." The Adjudicator said. He continued his assault.

The thugs, even more uncertain, met his attacks with their own. But their attacks no matter how fierce and fast, hit air or were deflected. The Adjudicator was moving erratically but his movements dodged an attack even without him needing to see it. If there was an attack he couldn't evade he deflected into an angle where it disrupted the attacks of the other thugs. That gave him space and he launched a straight right punch into a thug, caving his skull in and ending him immediately.

Five left.

A rapier violently lunged for him. It was dangerous, the amount of energy put inside that attack could actually hurt him. But it was useless if it didn't hit anything. The Adjudicator easily dodged the lunge and simultaneously killed another thug with a roundhouse kick.

He flowed inside the battlefield with supernatural grace and evasiveness. Any attacks that went for him were perfectly parried in a direction of one of the other thugs that disrupted their own attacks. The leader tried to slice at him instead of using the rapier to stab, desperate to affect his senses with his imbued rapier, he was summarily evaded and flowed into another kill.

It was a sick dance of death. The thugs, despite being in the middle of this carnage, could only watch and observe as the Adjudicator dismantled each and every single one of them. It was like he had eyes in the back of his head, except it was obvious it wasn't ocular magic. Even ocular magicians couldn't dodge and weave this perfectly, it's extremely difficult to parse out a third eye to look into, unless you were gifted or blessed with talent and the mindset to work hard after it.

The battle continued until there were only two left. Hart and the Adjudicator stared at each other. His high was messing with his sense of danger, instead of wanting to run away, he pushed forward. Uncaring of any danger that might come his way.

The rapier was gripped even tighter. "I'll send you to hell!"

"Let's go then."

As he said that, a hand held Hart's face and he was thrown out of the top floor of the building. The glass shattered and glittered, the various lamps powered by ocular enchantments reflecting on the tiny shards of glass.

As they fell, the Adjudicator took most of the fall and saved the criminal from the majority of the damage. He let go of the man.

"You bastard! Are you part of Gith's men?! Well, I'm glad I killed his sister! The bastard fucking deserved it! He never admitted to kidnapping Kidra! The girl was blind! And he started to move against us using his dirty fucking tactics."

"The heavens look upon you." The Adjudicator said, looking at the sky. Though they were at the bottom part of the Gorge which bordered the landmasses of the slab cities, there were areas in between the platforms and bridges of the upper floors that shone the moonlight directly down the deepest part of the city.

The moon was losing its shine. Darkening the entire world. It was Sarius, the moon of this world, a large floating eye that illuminated the planet of Arrelyn alongside its brother sun, Kelius. It blinked every hour just like its brother And it seemed, due to serendipity, Sarius closed his eye on the plight of this man surrounded by shards of glass.

And in this world of darkness, the people of the deepest part of the Gorge seemed entranced by this and looked outside their windows and watched on the two men as they had their battle. The Sheathed Sword, already eerily quiet as they heard countless men's dying moans and crashes of bodies. The patrons and workers of the bar looked outside. The buildings around them were just as deathly quiet.

The Adjudicator didn't try to prolong it anymore and held Hart by the throat. Systemically breaking each and every one of his limbs. The cracks resonated throughout the Gorge, the people who couldn't handle it puked, and the ones who could looked on with horror.

The man in red spoke up. "I am the Adjudicator. Criminals have festered in Lutinae.. No, Threinas for too long. I suggest that these people stop as fast as they can. For this is what will happen to you if you continue." The Adjudicator started casting a spell.

He perceived the infinite expanse. He couldn't see it, nor could he hear it, nor could he smell, he couldn't even taste anything. But what he could do was feel. The sheer magnitude of what he just entered threatened to hemorrhage his own brain from trying to even understand it, let alone control some small part of it. He could feel his own touch inside the folds of his skin, in between the fibers of his muscle. The sensation of force that he is oh so familiar with, the countless memories of vicious beatings, remembering and analyzing that sensation and trying to conjure it. His own understanding of force was instinctual but it was backed by scientific theory and it made his control much more stable, he held onto it tight and released it into the world. What was force if not touch? Force could not be if it could not touch. And the former Kings of men learned that lesson very well.

"Die."

Hart was writhing on the floor. Just as the Adjudicator said it, an invisible hand that was as big as a person, crushed him against the street. Leaving an imprint deep enough for all to see. The sound of bones breaking and organs rupturing was muffled by the simultaneously crushed rock, hiding the traumatic noise. The blood spurt that should've gone everywhere was contained by the invisible hand and painted the imprint in red.

The adjudicator left the scene. He didn't try to help any of the victims that were still inside the bar. As far as he was concerned, he did all he needed to do.

—--------------

Elias was sitting down at his desk. Heaps of paper heavy with writing were stacked upon the desk. He was addressing several invoices and problems within his cargo business. Workers that tried to steal cargo, captain's that refuse to follow procedures, elites that want special treament. Despite the tremendous task upon him, Elias was taking it in stride, he calmly assessed each one. Though as he continued, his eyes furrowed with one paper he just read. He read it over again, doubting his own competence that he read it incorrectly. He wasn't mistaken.

While the merchant class has risen in prominence much to the opposition of the Threinas elite, the council themselves has rarely tried to get their help in anything. The council would rather make their own organizations that rivaled the biggest merchant groups that dealt with the most important trade such as food, weapons and armor rather than work with merchants to progress faster. But what he just read was an offer from the council itself to bring his business as a partner with shipments of goods around Threinas with very good pay and benefits.

"This is unlike them." Elias murmured to himself. He leaned against his chair in deep thought. But then a knock sounded throughout the room.

"You can come in." Elias said as he flipped a haptic enchantment that released its hold on the door.

A girl came in and bowed. After she quickly closed the door. "There was a massacre in the Gorge. It was in the bar of the Sheathed Sword. Run by a gang named Rapier. To be more correct ran, they are no longer roaming this world."

Well, isn't he quick with his actions? I fear for the sorry folk that come against him. "Thank you for the report, Cleo. It seems I have more work to do." Elias said to himself.

 

[C.Z. Adams]

The wind was chilling on this drab night, quite different from the usual colorful and noisy Slab Kortlea. Unruly streaks of blonde hair got removed from their clumps as the wind blew and disturbed the man's vision. A man deeply breathed in and exhaled out. What came out should be a condensation of smoke that came from the difference of temperature from his internal temperature and what the air he breathed in. The thing is, it wasn't nearly cold enough to have this effect, winter was a long ways away. Even more quaintly about it was that the smoke moved in erratic ways, wanting to block his eyes from seeing what he wanted to see. A swift flex of his mystical muscles and he unveiled the illusion, finally having clear sight on the scene before him.

A once two story house reduced to its foundations. The inside, if you could even call it that, had numerous furniture and decorations that probably used to look good but now resemble the horror stories bards loved to tell. The ruins of the house reminded him of a certain luxurious estate that was burned. The resemblance took his memories towards a downward spiral, his hand stiffening in response and his eyes while open were focused at nothing.

He imagined Kortlea in the same state. People reduced to nothing, just like his brother.

"Peter." The man known as Peter was jolted out of his thinking, his emerald eyes looked at the huge person in front of him. "Are you going in or what?" The deep voice belonged to a face with a mouth that didn't move even as he spoke. He conjured his own sounds with his auditory magic.

"I am." Peter said. The man with the deep voice amplified his own heartbeat in response with one harsh thumping sound of the heart. The sound had an irritated tone with it. Peter had no idea how a heartbeat could sound irritated but the man had his ways.

The two men walked closer to the entrance. The house was within a populated residential district of Slab Kortlea. And apparently the destruction of this house had no witnesses.

"Hear anything Gram?" Peter said. He looked around the residential district, it was full of small ocular enchantments that shone and stylized art that was in every home. When he walked past it earlier, it even smelled amazing, though inside of this bastion of humanity, something wormed itself in and destroyed a part of it without being seen by anyone else.

"Absolutely nothing. Except the terrified whisperings of the neighbors." Gram replied with the same non-moving mouth.

"And the owner?" Peter remembered the woman who took care of this home, her husband died tragically in the events that occured and her kid was missing. Her husband was the only person in the street that was home, too exhausted from work, their kid wanted to stay with his dad as he wasn't home all the time. Everyone else went to Living Life, a popular troupe in Kortlea that had a special event where they promised free seatings. The coincidences added up. Right now the woman was staying with one of the neighbors while they did their work.

"Same thing."

"Keep an ear out for trouble. I doubt the incident is going to happen again, but you never know these days." As Peter said that Gram's heart pulsed in agreement.

Peter entered the ruins of the house. He was met with two people. Their eyes met his and they nodded to each other. "Did you find anything?" Peter asked them.

"Take a look at this, boss." A woman said.

The woman, with her helm at her side, had short curly hair and a round face led Peter to their findings. They walked to the middle of the house with deep claw marks. The claw marks had four lines, the size of which couldn't have belonged to any natural creature in Arrelyn as far as Peter knew.

"It's too coincidental to not be them." The woman stated blandly.

"The devil is out and about again huh. Any traces of magic? Oddities?" Peter asked. He crouched down to the claw marks, curious about who could make them.

"No traces as usual, though I haven't had the time to thoroughly analyze it yet. Still, this scene feels familiar…" She said.

"We've seen similar scenes before Irene."

"Not like this one. They haven't completely ruined a building in the middle of a residential area. This is different from their usual killings." Irene explained.

The devil case as they've named it was a series of unsolvable killings that most likely came from the same group of people. It inexplicably had no motive for it was just random citizens that were targeted. They were a group because they targeted multiple people killing ten maybe even twenty in one day in wildly different areas before going into hiding once again and doing the same thing after a week has gone by. Now, this month was different, instead of just murders, destruction was involved, in the middle of a populated neighborhood that somehow no one witnessed.

"If it's different, why would it be familiar to you?" Peter said with a quizzical expression.

"It's because she's insane, bossman." A lighthearted voice entered the conversation. He was a man with a tall build, though his helm hid his face, you could tell he was smiling underneath it.

"If we're talking about insanity, you're closer to that than me, Luke." Irene said in a cold tone.

"Truer words have never been spoken. By the way bossman, from my findings, there's absolutely nothing here!" Luke said as he removed his helm, the expected smile revealed itself.

"Start using more of your advanced spells then. Do another sweep of the place. Gram and I will stand guard while you two do your investigation."

While Peter was a skilled olfactician, it was better to leave the investigation to the optician and gustatician. The two did their work. Luke found the highest platform he could and jumped the gap easily. You could tell when a magician casted a spell, their eyes had this glossy look to it that were unfocused. Luke's mind was preoccupied with casting the spell and not getting torn apart by directly tampering with his connection to his eyes. An ocular magician was best when it came to a general assessment in investigations.

Meanwhile, as Irene did her work, you could see her breathe in through her mouth. She was analyzing the chemical composition of the place. The taste sensation was nothing other than chemical sensors, same for the nose. While it was the same for olfacticians that they both had the same chemical perception, gustaticians had it better as they could break it down and piece it together bit by bit as they could harness the natural functions of saliva that is closely ingrained with tasting and conjure it to analyze the things they wanted. Olfactory is just duller when it comes to analysis. The house wasn't any different as she targeted specific parts that she believed to have more tampering. In fact, the house was extremely normal except for it being destroyed. She had been in many scenes like this and they all have the same pattern of taste. This one was no different, like every case they've tackled that they had suspicion of the devils work.

She crouched down and tried to analyze the claw marks, but they only gave her a dull taste of soot, ash and stone. Searching further gave her nothing. No matter what she did, changing up her perception to be more sensitive to specific chemicals and duller to others. Going through the whole ringer, just to find anything. And she came up with nothing.

Now this was truly different. Usually we can find something. Now there's zero? Irene thought to herself. A light feeling of an ache in her stomach made itself known. Her calm was fussed though she tried to shake it off.

Luke and Irene finished their sweep of the house and disclosed what they found or lack there of to Peter.

"This is unusual, there's nothing to be found." Luke said while cupping his chin. While he performed quite an extensive search that required multiple advanced ocular spells, he didn't look fatigued at all.

"I've tried every variation of chemical sensitivity I could, nothing came up." Irene said.

Peter looked at the house again. Was this the fate of Kortlea? No, this was going to be bigger. It could very well affect Threinas as a whole. Peter remembered the corpse of his brother. Buried in ash and soot. His eyes sliced through with his own blade. Why would he do that right in front of an enemy? Why did you abandon us Samuel? Peter thought to himself.

So, is this it? Are we just going to go home, empty-handed? Dalin who was our only lead killed himself and now this? Peter's blood boiled in rage at the thought. His brother died for this, this couldn't be it. His own power, he once thought was so mighty, is nothing compared to what was happening around him. His own brother was gone, he couldn't bear it. But he had to keep going. Peter reminded himself of why he was doing this. He imagined a better tomorrow of those who had nothing. A better life for those found wanting. He calmed himself down. Usually there's clues even with this devil situation, no matter how few. Now there's nothing…

"Boss." A voice interrupted him. He looked up and saw Irene with a face she hadn't really shown much. Worry. "I want to try something out, though it would require the use of my wand." She said to him.

That was a bit concerning, the use of a wand was dangerous but powerful. One could gain inhuman control of their senses for the chance of even losing your perception altogether if you weren't ready for it. "Are you going to be fine? You've just exerted yourself." Peter said.

"I can rest for a bit. But I want to try something."

Luke and Peter looked at each other. Even Gram from the other side of the house could hear them and was a bit worried, but he was busy guarding.

"We'll go with your plan then, we can't leave here with nothing. Not with what happened."

Irene and Luke looked down at the ground. They knew what he was talking about. The death of Samuel wasn't just hard for Peter, but for everyone. They've been a team for five years.

"Can you tell us what your plan is, at least?" Luke asked her.

"No. If it works, I'll tell you, if it doesn't then I'm just misreading things." She said with a tone that implied finality. A pulse of the heart that eerily sounded like amusement was heard by everybody. They all smiled at that. Everyone trusted her. And they went with it.

Irene rested. It only took half as long for magicians to regain their mental energy as it did for someone who exerted themselves in a marathon to regain their stamina. While she rested, she regained a lot of her strength, but not all of it.

Gram, Luke and Peter were now in the living room of the house. Peter helped her by casting some odors that helped her focus and soothed her mind while also blocking her olfactory senses to keep her focused on her gustatory magic. Gram and Luke did the same for auditory and ocular senses. They didn't have a haptician in their group, so she was stuck with a patch job of a semi-removed feeling of touch. Only an actual haptician can help her fully block the feeling of touch.

Her already sensitive palate was elevated even higher, she could taste the air without even trying to enhance it with her own magic. This was actually one of the many practices people did to unlock their own connection to the senses, to block everything except for one and hyper focus on that.

Irene unsheathed a wand. It was made from dekraydor wood and conducts the mana engraved in it better than any material enchanters have tried. This wand cost as much as enchanting a whole house by a first class enchanter. The wand was already quite a bit thin. I hope this doesn't give up on me Irene thought to herself.

Irene readied herself and pushed her control to the limit. Her nose instantly bled and her eyes were crying blood. But she had such a clear perception of the world around her that it was quite surreal. Though instead of sight, she had a chemical composition read of the room, though that was just the physical aspect, she also could quite literally taste the mana in the air. Unimaginable pain for such irresistible clarity of the world. She always dreamed of being able to exist in this state forever, but that would quite literally kill her so she moved on and did her job as fast as she could.

Even with this much help from her team and the extremely specialized wand the area remained normal. The mana in the surroundings was quite normal, in places where enchantments are heavy it bends and warps the mana around though there was none of that here. Still, she noticed something concerning, the mana was normal but there was something interacting with it she had never seen before, even in her state she could barely notice it. Faint flickers of dark violet showed itself around the chimney. It was a spell, it interacted in a way with the mana surroundings she had never seen before. She immediately released her hold on her own spell. Her wand disintegrated just as she finished her search.

"Ch-chimney…" Irene coughed out alongside with some blood. Falling to her knees and losing control of her legs. But Peter catched her.

"Good job." He said to her and he laid her gently along the floor. Administering some quick fixes with some medical aromas that should get her functioning back to normal. He signaled to Luke and asked him to look after her.

Peter examined the chimney, he enhanced his smell and fished for anything, he came up with nothing. He tried to put his hand through the chimney and there was nothing inside. Peter patted the walls and it brought him nothing.

Peter tried breaking the walls first to see if it was hollow inside. While he debated with himself if he should use his amulet to try to dispel the surrounding area of the chimney, that was a bit too drastic.

He destroyed brick after brick and when he got to the right side of the chimney even though when he hit it, it didn't sound hollow. It broke and showed something inside. The wall broke down, and a human being revealed itself.

The boy was wide eyed, he was trying to yell out though the chains covering his mouth were doing a good job of silencing that. His arms and legs were chained to the wall. Peter immediately removed the shackles, they weren't sophisticated, normal shackles that anyone with a modicum experience of lockpicking would be able to unlock, Peter was familiar enough to bypass it.

"Gram, I know you're listening, call for the owner to get inside now." Peter whispered, though he already knew he was doing it before he even said it.

The boy was crying, and when the shackles on his mouth were removed he was finally heard.

"They're going to do it… They're going to do it!" The boy screamed.

"You're safe now kid! Look at me, your mom is here, okay?" Peter reassured the little boy.

The kid then held him, with eyes the same as warriors who have seen too much violence. "They're going to do it again. I've heard them say it!" The child shouted.

"Who said it?"

"Th-they were…" The boy nervously tried to describe what he saw but it was obvious he was getting terrified of the thought.

Peter casted a spell on the kid. He used a relaxing aroma, to ease his fright and nervousness. He could see the kids' wide eyes normalize. Then he heard a voice.

"Jonathan! They found you!" A woman screamed then ran for the boy and hugged him dearly.

"M-.. Mom!" The kid said.

Peter called the others.

"We should let them have their reunion. Still, don't let your guard down, this is the first time a witness survived an incident in this series of cases."

The group had a small surge of pride go through them, this was the first time they've managed to get a witness. But a disturbing thought went across all of their heads at the same time. There were missing people in each incident that happened. Where were they? They all looked at the kid.

"How did you know what to look for Irene?" Luke asked her. The three men looked at her.

While she was happy, there was a distinct look to her face that was apparent that she thought this wasn't good at all. "Let me ask you three first. Why do you call this perpetrator we have, 'the devil'?"

"Well, it's because they're evil, right?" Luke said.

"All of what they've done has given them nothing but satisfaction for their deeds." Gram answered.

"Killing, kidnappings all without financial or political gain. They have enough power to even make us headless chickens in this investigation." Peter said. "This is the closest criminal we can call a devil."

"This is all true. Except you're not getting it." Irene said.

"What don't we get?" Peter asked.

But before Irene could answer. The child who was being comforted by their mother, suddenly screamed with an uncharacteristically low voice.

"They had pillars of fire burning patterns of enchantment! Shadowy figures with eyes that shone of blood. Spaded tails and skeletal wings! Claws that could enlarge themselves to destroy everything! THEY'RE DEVILS, OH DEAR MAKER THEY'RE COMING!" He screamed with increasing intensity. His mother tried to shake him out of it. The four investigators tried to run and help the kid. But for the most part, it seemed the kid got out of the possession himself and now he was shaking, paranoid of his own mind.

Peter looked at everyone but when he saw Irene's face, it was even more terrified than the mother of a just-possessed child.

"And so a child, so pure and full of love was possessed and gave the first description of the devil…" Irene mumbled.

"Irene?" Peter said in a worried voice.

"I think I finally realize why I'm familiar with this scene… It's from the Book of the Maker."

The men looked at her and then at each other. Suddenly the erratic murders and their lack of reasoning began to make sense. Though they couldn't be sure of what they've just realized was the truth, the implication made their blood run cold.

 

[C.Z. Adams]

After making sure both the mother and kid were safe they asked the kid some clarifying questions, the four of them left the ruined house without much information at all. Peter ordered all of them to retreat back to their base of operations. There was no merit in trying to hunt for more information when one of their members couldn't even defend themselves anymore. There was no sense in that, better to go back now and then make a plan off attack with their new information.

The four of them were running through the rooftops of Kortlea. As Peter ran through the rooftops, he was reminded again of the beauty of this city. He jumped across the gap of one building to the next and he saw a visual illusion that made the paint of the house move, as he sped by the house's little black and white painting of a boy, appearing to wave at him. He looked at the landscape at large and the nighttime beauty of Kortlea was inspiring. While this was happening though, the four figures jumped through gaps and scaled walls. They were having a leisurely conversation.

"A description of the devil… What spell could possess a kid?" Luke said while he sprinted across the roof.

"None. As far as I know." Peter said back. The four members of this team tried to wrack their brains of anything remotely similar happening in their lifetime. But as they tried to search their memories, nothing came up.

"What's important is we just found a new mana phenomenon left by this 'devil'." Irene said while kicking off a wall and scaling over it. Though her mind was exhausted, her body was in good shape, she was keeping up.

"That is true, violet mana isn't something I'm familiar with. I've met many magicians, so have you, and I haven't seen anything like what you'd described." Luke said. Every spell one casted left behind a change in the natural mana ecosystem, but it was usually gone without a trace in an hour's time. What's more interesting was, the violet mana barely even showed itself to Irene after pushing herself that far, normal residual mana wasn't that hard to unveil by professional standards.

"How did you even figure out there would be residual mana?" Peter asked her.

"It's because I realized that the incidents we've been following could actually be the devil. I adjusted my spell to locate residual mana because the devils in the books also used magic, though they are very different from us. I thought if that was the case, I should find something if I focused on residual mana." She explained.

"Hmph. We can't rely on you nearly killing yourself to find a small part of the information that's there." Gram said with a short and deep pulse of his heart, emphasizing his statement as he landed and rolled across the roof.

"You're not wrong Gram. We'll be a woman down if you have to do that everytime and we don't know if they're going for us eventually. Also, if we're going to use wands every single time, I doubt we can see this through to the end without our division being disbanded because of our overuse of budget." Peter said, taking the simplest routes he could.

Wands were extremely expensive to use. They were an amplifier, allowing possibilities that the normal person couldn't attain through normal means. Every time a wand was used, its enchantments burned through the material it was on. Especially with Irene's usage of it earlier, her wand was burnt halfway through her use but it was immediately gone through her quick search of this violet mana.

A bit frustrated, Irene couldn't help but agree. "All I saw was a small part of it. We can try to brute force it but we find these devil incidents way past an hour."

"If that's the case, why do you think there was still the presence of violet mana there?" Luke asked.

"I have no idea." Irene answered honestly. She had hypotheses' but those didn't really help until she had more information.

"Peter, why aren't the other spymasters in on this?" Gram asked.

"Probably because it's still a small case. Ambrose told me they had something else they're focusing on and it's big from what I can tell." Peter said, not too sure about why they're the only ones pursuing this.

"They'd rather focus on keeping their wealth than actually helping this country." Luke said in a derisive tone.

"Calm yourself Luke. I'm certain they're doing their job as well." Peter said. There was most certainly more to this than meets the eye. "Also, I'm handing the job of finding out more about the theological precedence of this situation to you, I know you have connections."

"I'll deal with it." Luke answered.

The four of them continued to roam through the night. Armed with the little information they do have, they began their planning.

—-------

A man was walking in circles around his room, his neatly parted blonde hair being tussled with his actions. He had a heavy expression that he couldn't seem to shake no matter how hard he tried. He was in a quaint room, one that appeared to be an office. He could've buried his head in the endless books that lined the walls of his office, maybe even drown his thoughts with the stack of paperwork that was on his desk. But his mind barely even registered that.

A knock was heard from opposite of his door. There was a rhythm to it and it jolted the man from his thinking and released the haptic enchantments on the door. A man with blonde hair and green eyes showed himself.

"Peter, glad to see you're still fine." The man said.

"Ambrose, likewise." Peter answered.

The door was closed and the faux relaxation immediately went away. Business was in order.

"Your mission went well I hope?" Ambrose asked, there was a slight similarity in the likeness of him and Peter though his eyes were quite exotic, they were amethyst in color. He sat down behind his desk and began to pour some tea that was already brewed for Peter to drink.

"It finally bore some fruit." Peter said while he sat down, there was a tinge of joy in his voice. Though Ambrose didn't seem thrilled to hear it. "Though we would need a constant supply of dekraydor wood and you would need to refocus your enchanters in this mission as we would chew through those wands quickly."

Ambrose quietly sat as he heard Peter out. "That's not exactly feasible. What happened?"

Peter explained the situation. He explained how Irene managed to find a clue because she made the connection that the devil isn't actually just an evil person but the real thing from theological books, especially the Book of the Maker. How the kid was trapped and was possessed and described the devil and that they were coming. How the events they've just experienced matches up with the events in the Book of the Maker.

Ambrose leaned against his chair. His fingers, which were full of rings, cupped his chin. "I'm going to say it quite bluntly. I can't believe it."

"I've sent Luke to find and talk to the most knowledgeable priest he knew in the Book of the Maker. We're trying to figure out if it has any weight to it at all."

"After that? The kid didn't exactly have all the details. Did you secure the house at least so it couldn't be tampered with?" Ambrose asked.

"I've talked to the owner of the house and one of the head guards in Kortlea. They agreed to keep it untouched for now."

"Good. Then you can at least go back to it and try to find some more clues. Though if Irene was close to death. I doubt she can go any further than that."

"That's the most interesting part. We've always managed to find some clues in every incident however little we found. It's how we managed to find Dalin. But now, we used every tool in the book and it brought up nothing. Short of killing herself, Irene had to cast a modified investigation spell to find residual mana. That's never been necessary in any of our missions. Not even the past devil incidents. And now, somehow, we couldn't find anything, not even a child inside the walls."

"A conundrum indeed. I would love to give you more backup but unfortunately most mages of your caliber have already taken up jobs they prefer." Ambrose said. And that was quite the statement. He was a council member. He had access to people who could easily face a platoon of high guards and come out on top without much trouble. If he didn't know someone, then it was incredibly unlikely Peter would be able to find a suitable recruit.

"I still think we should go after Scribe Dalin's known accomplices." Peter said.

"Drop it, Peter" Ambrose said with a harsh tone, though he was amicable and easy to talk to, it was easy to forget that this man was part of the council. "The situation with Dalin already almost made the council members vote for an investigation on who did it and to remove them from their position and if a council member was involved, remove them from their seat. When Dalin killed himself, that removed a lot of the tension. A lot of the members believed that whatever came to him he was guilty for, if that was his response." Ambrose explained.

Peter composed himself. "I understand. Then, can you at least give us permission to look into this troupe called 'Living Life'? I doubt an entertainment group being looked into would shake a few feathers."

The council member's fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk. "From what you've told me, it was quite convenient how these events played out. Fine, just don't do anything unnecessary."

Peter beamed from the statement. "Thank you, we'll keep it quiet. In any case, Ambrose, I've known you for a while now. Is there something bothering you? You didn't exactly seem enthusiastic when you heard we finally got some headway in this." Peter said.

Ambrose's mouth turned into a wry smile when he heard that. "There will be a court meeting addressing war prevention."

"War prevention?" Peter murmured to himself. "What does that entail, exactly?"

"Mandatory military service for everyone sixteen years old and above." Ambrose said.

"What are they expecting civilians to do?" Peter scoffed. One warrior-mage could wade through civilians like a huntsman goes through fat.

"A lot. After the meeting, the council will start working together with the merchants to create weapons they could handle even without a deep connection to the senses." Ambrose explained.

"If the council could do it, that would be revolutionary. Every child in Arrelyn will speak Tinisian if this is the case." Peter mused. "What made them act so drastically?"

"Contria. These past three hundred years, they've managed to reconstruct and become a threat once again."

"The grudge lives on, huh."

Ambrose nodded. "It does."

—------------

Irene was brewing some tea. She muttered herself the ingredients she needed and she was meticulously weighing each and every one of them. It was some medicinal tea that helped ease the pain of the fatigue of the mind as one casted too much magic. When one casted magic, you used your mana reserves and mana was the energy that held people together. The glue that made everything possible, though that was just some theories of philosophers. The reality was, use too much of your mana and you as a person, cease to be. This was why when magicians casted spells, their minds started to hurt and their hearts started to dangerously pulse rapidly, it was a defense mechanism to stop them from exerting themselves to the point of death. Though that was any human mechanism wasn't it? Your body exhausted you before you could run yourself to death, made you full before your stomach burst. Every living being had natural inhibitors.

Though what were the inhibitors of devils? What is their ceiling of power? Irene asked herself. She took out a notebook and began writing the events that she experienced. She didn't spare any detail and was indiscriminately jotting every single little thing down.

"How did they manage to possess a kid? How did their spell manage to deflect any of our attempts to pierce it?" Irene muttered to herself. She began to think about the characteristics of the devil, there were plenty of descriptions of their power and their inclinations in the Book. They could possess humans. Doing whatever they wanted with their body. There was a passage about a priest who dropped their faith and got possessed and cried blood while writing a bastardization of the Book of the Maker until he died. Wait, I think there were multiple ex-priests who got the same treatment now that I think about it.

Irene got out her own copy of the Book of the Maker and compared the events she experienced in the ruined house and the passages in the book itself.

"An enclave of humanity, invaded by the demonspawn, houses ungaurded and vulnerable but they picked one, to further the terror the people would feel. And so, an atrocity was committed in the middle of a packed community though there was no one to see it, except one. The people managed to find a child inside the chimneys, at first he appeared fine. But the end was coming, and it was heralded by a child. So pure and full of love was possessed and gave the first description of the devil." Irene muttered to herself as she read the very last volume of the Book of the Maker, called the Volume of Dismantling.

The details weren't so clear cut. It was never that clear when you tried to analyze a book that was written thousands of years ago. Context that would've been there, gone. Realizing there was a definite connection there and how ridiculously hard it was to even just find a glimmer of its residual mana. Irene read on.

—----------------

Luke was waiting in front of a house in one of the residential districts in Slab Lutinae. The sharp points that protruded from the house were tempered by swirls and curves everywhere else. There was a quaint hammer dangling from the protruding sharp roofs that was in the middle of the house. The wind blew but it didn't seem to move the hammer one bit. It was one of the many decorative practices of those who believe in the Maker, though the specific owner of this house was a Foundationalist, which was the largest denomination of those who believed in the Maker. Stability and foundation was lauded as one of the highest virtues one can aspire to.

The door was opened and Luke met a kind face. He had a necklace of the Maker that had the iconic hammer. "Luke, is it?" He asked.

"Priest Donovan, good to meet you! Sorry that I've called you on such short notice." Luke said bowing to the priest.

"Hah! That's fine. I don't have the heart to turn away one of Samuel's friends. May his soul be where it needs to be. Come in, young man. Make yourself at home."

Luke entered and was greeted by the bare essentials. There wasn't anything lavish inside his home. No extravagant pieces. Though it did show the foundations and pillars of the house quite well.

Donovan sat down on one of the rocking chairs in his living room that was closest to the chimney and he pointed to look to sit in the rocking chair opposite of him.

"So, what has gotten you so desperate to look for a priest of the Maker? My dear assistant was quite miffed at you visiting at such an irregular time."

"Is it fine for me to set up some extra privacy enchantments?" Luke asked.

"I didn't expect it to be such a serious conversation, but go ahead." Donovan said.

After finishing his preparations. Luke explained the situation to the priest. He explained what they witnessed without divulging any more information than needed.

"A first witnessing of the devil... Your friend is right. It is from the Book of the Maker. Specifically from the volume of the dismantling." The priest said with a troubled face.

"You're one of the most theologically knowledgeable priests that I've heard of. What's your opinion of these events?" Luke asked.

"Hmm…" Donovan rocked slowly back and forth on his chair. "Events like this have happened in the past. Whether an opposing religion has tried to set up the believers of the Maker or even just atheists themselves who want to discredit us. But, the most telling thing from your story is how the child was possessed… The magic that has been gifted to us has never granted us the power to control people. But this violet mana… It was never described on what color the devil's mana was but their control of magic is inherently different from us and it was described that while people could try to see their spells, it is a fool's game. While residual mana is definitely more reasonable to find than the spell itself, there was no one in the book who had done so. Probably because our control of spells and mana is much more sophisticated today."

Luke tried to digest that information. "There's precedent, then?"

Priest Donovan made a measured nod and spoke carefully. "I believe it to be more realistic for your friend to have seen things from her near-death experience and the child having an episode of the mind, but yes there is precedence."

"This isn't the answer I expected." Luke said honestly.

"Accounts of devil sightings happen all the time. Us clergy of the Maker have to take these matters seriously. Granted, yours does seem to have some weight to it, but I can't just agree without further investigation. Though our order, who specializes in investigations like these, are busy investigating miracles that people claimed to have happened." Donovan answered.

"I wasn't aware Threinas was rich in miracles." Luke answered in jest.

"More than you know." Donovan laughed. "In any case, the decision comes to you if you want this to be private or for me to share with my fellows in faith."

"I would want it private for now. I'll inform you if I change my mind." Luke said.

"Then it shall be done. It was an enlightening conversation, Luke. That is certainly food for thought."

"Hopefully it remains just food for thought." Luke muttered and excused himself.

—-----------------

Gram was blacked out in some random bar in Lutinae. Though Lutinae was the most important city of Threinas, after all the capital city which comprised all slabs and valley cities was named after Lutinae itself. It held the assembly court, high judge courts and the leaders of Threinas who do their job in the council chambers where its members decide the fate of the country.

Though from the bar Gram was in, it didn't exactly look the most pristine nor representative of the country. Soot was smeared everywhere from the walls to the drunkards themselves who enter this sorry excuse of an establishment.

Though while it lacked the riches in the wealth kind, it was rich in rumors. Stories from all over the country from its Slabs, valley cities and even provinces floated around. And a certain story was dominating them all. The Adjudicator. A man in red and black, hell bent on dismantling every loan shark gang that was in Lutinae. Some people even said that he had Threinas as a whole in his sights. The Adjudicator was apparently a powerful haptician, known for his staple killing of the gang leaders with a spell that conjured an invisible hand of force and crushed them down against the hard road. He alone dismantled seven loan shark gangs in a week.

"Hah! This Adjudicator is just another vigilante who'll randomly disappear because he bit more than he could chew!" A drunk patron said, though it was much more slurred and incomprehensible than presented. Still, his speech was understood well enough by the patrons of the bar.

"Ahh come on! He's doing this country some good I tell ya!" His friend told him.

"He's not going to save you just because you're in debt, dumbass! Plus, your debt is to the bank, not some loan shark." He said to him.

"Tch, maybe I should've taken a loan from them usurers after all. Then maybe my debt will disappear."

"Hahaha! You have something wrong in your brain pal! Maybe get a loan for that first!"

The Adjudicator huh. Gram thought to himself. Though he looked as drunk as ever. His thoughts were much more sober than that. He listened to every conversation that was happening in the bar. Finding himself satisfied as the conversations turned more into arguments as the booze was processed by their bodies. He woke up as if in a drunken stupor and left the bar.

 

[C.Z. Adams]

He was in his old home, there was nothing great about it, it could be if you considered rotting walls and cracked floorboards as an aesthetic. It was the type of home that could only really fit one person, yet somehow three was made possible and all the more puzzling was this house felt more comfortable than his newly bought spacious bar. He looked down and he could see himself when he was a kid. Messy black hair and red eyes that never seemed to stop crying. There was a tiny great wolf stuffed toy that was a bit too worn out for use, but it seemed to comfort the boy anyway. The sight elicited a reaction inside him, slight pangs of pain one couldn't really describe. Was it guilt? Was it nostalgia? Was it sadness? Was it happiness?

He couldn't really control himself and he got on his knees. His mind seemed to transfer to his younger self. With his small stature, he couldn't help but look up. His mother couldn't control herself, she weeped as well, both knees on the floor. Why was she crying? A strong urge inside him wanted to protect his mother. This needed to stop. He knew she would feel better if he stopped crying, he tried. He tried so hard but the tears couldn't stop.

Blurs of events seemed to pass by, it could've been a minute or even days. Incoherent streams of events just passed by and he could pick one out and it didn't quite make sense in his mind why these specific events were being remembered by him. Still, it felt somehow right. He just knew the focal point was his mother. Her face deteriorated in mood as the events played in his head. Until finally, he was in front of the door of his parents' room. He opened it. And his heart almost broke in half. He cried but something more came out of him. Something he didn't know he had. A boiling anger that always seemed to be at the bottom of his stomach, churned and roared and finally burst out.

The lifeless corpse of his mother, its dead eyes felt like it was looking at him. He wanted to close his eyes but he couldn't. As if he was possessed by a ghost, he wanted to see it all. The pain, the suffering, everything. He didn't want to run away from it, despite how much pain it caused him.

He screamed. He screamed so loud it turned into a visceral roar. A scream about the death of one's mother. One that could even transcend the dreamscape to reality.

Julius' wails woke himself up, the image he had in his head of a dangling body replaced by a room. He held his neck, he couldn't breathe properly. He didn't need to touch his face, he could feel it quite obviously enough. He wiped his face with his blanket. A surge of rage boiled within him, mimicking the younger version of himself. He felt there was a difference, his was stronger. He calmed himself down. Normally he would've been doing his routine already, but he stayed in his bed for a while. It just felt the right thing to do.

The bed felt strange to him all the while. He felt he had better sleep in the wilds, where the dangers of his adventuring campaigns kept his mind busy. The man chastised himself, the adventuring campaigns were only preparation for what was to come. The red eyes focused on a wall in the room. Hiding a distorted set of armor. He clenched his fists. There was still more to be done.

—-----------------

He walked downstairs from his establishment. The soreness in his muscles was keenly felt as he was finally moving. Places in his muscles that were never really sore, felt sore. He didn't know why that was the case, he was in plenty of adventurer missions, but his new interest seemed to demand something new from his body. He was living upstairs in his newly bought drinking place. The bar compared to when he bought it a week ago, was spotless. A previously dark wood now looks more alive and rich in deep hazelnut color. Though when he came downstairs where the kitchen was, it was still in need of utensils, cups and more importantly ale.

But as he walked past the kitchen there was an opening to the drinking area and he felt something. There was always movement in the air, but it was different, it was too constant and too quiet for it not to be someone else. Julius walked out of the kitchen and peered in.

He saw a man covered in black soot, ragged clothes. Sleeping on the floor of his bar. The man's chest heaved up and down, a powerful snoring came with it. It took a while but the disturbed air reached Julius' senses a few moments later.

Firstly, his sense of danger kicked in quite violently. There shouldn't be a person there, but there was. He immediately casted a spell if this person did anything while he was asleep. But as he searched, there was nothing.

Julius wasn't wearing armor but he did have his mace with him. He approached the sleeping homeless man, his snoring, unaware of the danger he was in. And then a hand slapped his chest as he was breathing in, forcibly exhaling the breath and he woke up slightly choking.

The homeless man woke up to a man covered in bandages. He had a mace resting on his shoulder but he recognized the stance well enough. Even though he was trying to hide it, he was ready to smack him in the head if he tried anything stupid.

"C-calm down! What's going on?" He said to the scary looking man.

"You're sleeping in my bar. How did you get in?" His tone was serious.

The homeless man gulped. "Uhhh, the door was unlocked." He smiled at him. No one would kill a smiling man, right? He rationalized.

Julius went to the door and checked its enchantments. He sighed and chastised himself. The homeless man heard him muttering to himself "Stupid." The red-eyed man said.

"See, I'm not lying to you!" He seized the situation to fully convince the man.

"Fine, since it was my own mistake, get in the kitchen." He lowered his mace and began walking to the kitchen.

The soot-ridden man didn't know what to do, he didn't feel any danger now so follow he did. It wasn't like he had a home to go back to or any plans for the day.

The homeless man's eyes went inside the kitchen. When he freeloaded in the bar, he didn't really bother to check the kitchen. But it was bare for someone who he thought was as rich as him who could buy a bar and keep his body in tip-top shape with nutritious food. Though he wasn't doing his body any favors with those wounds. His neck was alarmingly bandaged as well. What the hell does this guy do to get those wounds? The ragged man thought to himself.

Julius began cooking and he wasn't really much of a talker. He just sat down on one of the chairs and waited. After some time, he finished cooking and handed him a plate with some sausages, porridge and eggs.

"Eat. After that, get out." Julius said to the man without looking at him.

"Hehehe. Sorry 'bout that sir, I wondered why the hell the place was so clean all of a sudden. I slept here anyway." The homeless man didn't sound apologetic at all.

Julius eyed the guy. He was scarfing down the food without any regard for manners. It's not like he could judge. He wasn't one to follow them anyway. Though as they ate on, he began to note a difference, Julius ignored manners, while this soot-ridden man actively destroyed them.

"So, what's your name anyway? This bar had been long abandoned, in a bad spot for a business like this as well." The raggedy man said while his mouth was full of food, pieces of sausage were flying out and he quickly took the small pieces of food and re-ate it, taking some soot from his fingers along the way. Julius didn't look disgusted, as far as he was concerned, this was normal.

"...It doesn't matter."

The soot-ridden man decided to be brave. "Is it related to those wounds o' yours?"

"They're not." Julius' tone was a notch deeper, he didn't like how this man was just assuming things out of him.

"Sorry. Calm down. I'm just trying to make conversation." The homeless man put up two hands to signal his lack of ill-intent.

A sigh came out from the red-eyed man. "And I'm trying to get on with my day."

"Can I take a bath here? You should have a basin around." The homeless man ignored Julius' mood.

"What?!" Julius almost choked on porridge. He beat on his chest and coughed out.

"Don't die now!"

"Shut up. Just finish those eggs and get out of here."

"Hah! Everyone's curious, you know." Julius didn't react to him anymore. "From what I hear, you're an adventurer. Who moved here for no apparent reason and now wants to start a bar!"

The homeless man waited for a response but nothing came. He prattled on anyway. "I never liked those types, you know? Adventurers just seem so damn pretentious. Them with their shows of skill and dreams of glory." The man was waving around his fork with a piece of sausage pretending it to be a sword and doing a haphazard impersonation of whoever adventurer he saw.

"At the end of the day, they're just morons who don't know the first sign of danger." He said while shaking his head.

"Just finish your damn egg!" Julius shouted. The action even surprised him. He really was off-kilter today.

"Fine." He finally finished his meal. "By the way, I'm going to work with you. It's hard to find work as a homeless person, ya know?"

"I don't want your help."

"But you do need it! This place was… is practically my home anyways and I would be troubled to be out of a home just like that! You don't need to worry, I'm a good worker." The homeless man saluted him.

Julius just sighed in defeat.

The homeless man extended a dirty, soot-ridden hand to Julius. The red eyed man looked at him. Julius had that look at first, that stoic-ass look that never seemed to change. But then he smiled. And he accepted his handshake. "No." Julius said.

"But didn't you just hear my impassioned speech?!"

"I did. And the answer is no. I'll give you some money to get yourself together so you can find a job."

"That's something at least. If you do that, then this establishment is yours! My name is Prim by the way." The homeless man smiled at him. Forgetting any sort of past attachments to this bar.

The red-eyed man snorted at that. "Julius" he said. "Don't sleep in this place again." Julius couldn't believe it but he forgot to lock the door in his home. The fatigue was getting to him.

"Only if you follow through with your word!" Prim said to him. "I had to fight off horrible people just to sleep in a comfortable spot!"

He looked at Prim. The man couldn't stop talking, he was annoyed but he needed to control himself. After all, he was in the same position as him long ago.

—-----------------

After giving Prim some money to rent out a decent inn after he cleans himself up and buys himself some new clothes so the owners don't just turn him away. Julius went on with his day. The targets he's been going after were pretty small-time thugs. Though the last one he dismantled was vastly more influential and rich than the first gang he went for, The Chained Heart.

The spike in wealth was extremely apparent. There was a point in a loan shark gang's life where they reached a certain threshold and they just made an absurd amount of money compared to before. Still, while they had posed some challenges, it was mostly because he had to wait a long time to pick his time to go in with the increased manpower. No one could really face him, it was more of the same.

His alias of the Adjudicator was beginning to spread. That meant more gangs were going to be more alert against him. Still, he accepted that downside. The point of spreading his name in the first place was to limit the operations of these gangs. If one less person doesn't get victimized because they became more careful, then that was preferable than him going for the biggest gangs and burning out in a blaze of glory.

The underworld of Threinas was deep. And one had to plan even deeper for such elements to be washed away thoroughly.

Julius walked to a clinic, it was in a bland part of Glosso, the same region where his bar was established. It was just recently renovated with a sign that said blandly "Clinic". He walked in and was met with the receptionist. After some quick back and forth, Julius went to the doctors room.

Though Julius was constantly feeling out the environment, the stark antiseptic smell couldn't be ignored as he went inside the doctors room. There were an assortment of tinctures, remedies, and tools that looked brand new. He saw a woman sitting at a desk, golden hair that accentuated the woman's mature face.

"Do you have it ready?" He asked the woman, who wore red robes that had an additional layer around her neckline that had the symbol of a doctor, a needle. It was the classical uniform of a doctor in Threinas.

"Ahh, so impatient. But yes, I do. Sit down." She went downstairs and pulled out a case in the freezer in the basement. She walked back up and set it down in front of him. "As your personal doctor, I would advise you to stop getting into fights. I can barely keep up with the demand." She said to him.

"It can't be helped. I'm only going to get more injured from here on out." Julius answered her.

She sighed to him. She opened the case and what was inside were pieces of flesh. She removed the bandages on Julius and began to re-cut his still-healing wounds. She then set the pieces of flesh inside, like human puzzle pieces and began to sew it back onto him. This was the practice of doctors of the world. Gustaticians could break down whatever they ate. And because they understand so much of what they eat, some even have the talent to reverse that and actually conjure materials. But it took a ritual room for Gustaticians to do this. It was an extremely expensive but effective way of treatment. Though this meant they had to eat their patient's body first, to understand its composition. Cannibalism was nowhere near legal, the only exceptions were Gustaticians who had the proper license to do so and only on consenting patients.

"Mind putting on some anesthesia Kathryn?" Julius asked. She didn't try to be gentle with him, pushing and prodding at his still tender wounds.

"I thought you were a big boy." She teased him.

How many more pain in the ass people am I going to have to deal with? Julius thought to himself. "Is the operation room working as intended?" Julius asked, not bothering to respond to her tease.

"It's perfect~" She said as she poked through his skin and stitched the created flesh into him. "Though if you're going to get more injured, I think I can convince some people to work here. The pay is good, ridiculously good for a hole in the wall clinic. I know some who will be enamored by a job like this." She said to him. She moved on to the wound on his neck, this time as if possessed by a doctor who knew the regulations, she actually bothered to not be so rough.

"I'll think about it." Julius said.

"Hmm~ Waiting for an influx of cash with your merchant friend?" As she said that he looked at her seriously. She knew she stepped a bit too far. "Sorry."

"You already know the rules. Don't pry or you'll get involved in something you might not like."

"It's hard not to put the pieces together. You're the only ones who meet here consistently. But, you're right, I'll try not to be so inquisitive~" Julius left it at that. After the treatment he was mentally preparing himself for the next job. It was going to be big. Already, he was visualizing what would happen, the strength of his would-be foes. He wondered how a troupe who had so many adoring fans, could use them for their own gain? There was no need for them to be so greedy, but people were rarely in control of themselves.

Elias walked in the clinic and both him and Julius went downstairs through a hidden door that was heavily enchanted. As always, Julius sat down and began to talk business without any notion of pleasantries or small talk. Elias was used to it at this point.

"So, have you managed to fully take over the Sheathed Sword?" Julius asked him.

"Yes, the paperwork is quite mind-numbing but the proxy will lead it well. One just needs the approval of a Scribe and it's a done deal. The other five are currently in the bureaucratic process." Elias looked Julius up and down. He couldn't help but notice the alarming amount of wounds he was covered in. "Are you sure you still want to go after this troupe alone? This is a mid-sized gang you're going for now." He asked with some tinge of worry in his voice.

"I'll be fine." The bandage-covered man stubbornly refused it just as usual. Elias always asked if he wanted help and he always refused. He has managed to get the job done every single time but those were small gangs. And the one up next could easily kill him if he wasn't ready. Elias sighed, he didn't want a business partner to die so quickly.