《Swan Song》


 [Act 1] Prologue/Chapter 1 - Chained Fate

    [Arc 1 | Volume 1]


    [Introductory Arc]


    <h2 style="text-align: center">[Chapter 1: Chained Fate]</h2>


    Fire.


    It roared, consumed, and eventually smoldered.


    The raging flames enveloped what was once a little village among the coasts of a vast, endless sea. Fields morphed to ash, and the homes made by its villagers had fallen, diminished to nothing more than dust in the face of calamity. The rundown village resembled a deserted battleground, yet there was no clash, only a massacre. The sky, veiled by the thick smoke rising from ground fumes, only exposed darkness that reigned over its domain. The crescent moon towered above the twilight sky; even it was not exempt from the obscuring smoke.


    Yet, one remained amongst the destruction.


    A boy trod through the fuming village. He limped past the ashes of his fellow villagers, friends, and family as if they were remnants of the past. He could still hear the echoes of laughter from the village square, unceremoniously silenced by the crackling flames. His tears had dried, leaving only the hollowness of grief¡ªa stark emptiness that echoed the loss of his people.


    The village of Litore had fallen along with the future of those who died.


    Soot from the inferno smeared the boy''s tattered clothes. Burnt wood chips cluttered his hair, while sporadic ash-filled winds further dirtied his ragged locks. The smoke clawed at his lungs, each breath a desperate gamble.


    He would die. That much was clear.


    The nearest town was days away, and his body was shutting down. Yet he persisted, unsure why he still felt compelled to walk. Perhaps with everyone gone, he carried an obligation to go on and keep having hope?? But even a child like him understood that in hell like this, hope was futile.


    Through the haze, he barely noticed he couldn¡¯t see from his left eye, if it was even there. The boy mused for a moment. Was it the outsider ¡°diplomats¡± who spoke of ¡°peace¡± whilst burning Litore to the ground?


    His exhaustive mind grew hazy, too tired to fully recall. In any case, it didn''t matter. A miracle was his only chance of survival, a foolish fancy even a child like him could recognize.


    The broken body collapsed.


    The suffocating smoke overcame him. Not even an inch could he move to save himself from the surrounding red hell. As ironic as it was, dark clouds loomed overhead, painting the sky with a black appearance. It promised rain that would extinguish the flames, but it was useless.


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    The air shook.


    His eyes shot open, and he lifted his head with all the strength he could muster. Above the ruined land, a black sphere hovered, emitting a haunting violet glow that spread across the devastated land. It produced a sound reminiscent of a mystical power, as if ripping apart the world to pave the way for the presence that should never have been.


    Yet, it happened.


    There was no solar eclipse today, so why did this occur? It was undeniable that what was happening was a miracle. Its presence was truly a miracle. The young boy instinctively reached out his hand towards this miracle without even realizing it. Did he believe that such a gesture would somehow offer him help? Was he hoping that one miracle could lead to another and save him?


    It was a fool¡¯s errand, but was that not what made one human to pursue futility?


    I don¡¯t want to die. A single thought pierced through the boy¡¯s mind.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t¡­ want¡­ to¡­ die¡­¡± he croaked. His lungs, full of smoke, were irreparable.


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ wanna¡­ die. I don¡¯t¡­ wanna die¡­ I don¡¯t wanna die!¡±


    He croaked once again, begging the mass to make him live.


    ¡°I can¡¯t die here! Not here! Not like this!¡±


    He screamed at the glimmering abyss, commanding it to make him live.


    Abruptly, the purple illumination intensified. Efflorescent, it was to where it overshadowed the remains of Litore in its brilliant violet light¡ªblinding the boy¡¯s remaining eye. And suddenly, nothing but white was visible.


    ¡°...Is that your wish? Then I will make that a reality.¡±


    If one strips away a child¡¯s home, parents, and all such material things, there is nothing else for them to live for.


    That is why his body remained.


    Even as his heart withered and died.


    * * *


    "Oh my bloody days! Why does life hate me so much?!"


    Cursing the heavens at his utter misfortune, Acacia gave no sign of stopping his frantic dash.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The wind cut like steel against his scraggly frame, offering no respite as he fled. Streets, buildings, apartments¡ªeven towering skyscrapers¡ªall blended into a dark canvas beneath the star-studded night sky, everything reduced to blurs at sprinting speed. Row after row of abandoned buildings lined the alleyways like silent sentinels, their shadows merging with the encroaching darkness.


    Right, left, diagonal¡ªAcacia tried every evasive maneuver to shake the looming shadows advancing behind him. He darted through dimly lit alleys and twisted passages, seeking any route that might lose his pursuers. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed his fears.


    There were still three of them.


    His jaw dropped. Acacia had been sprinting like a madman who needed to take a leak pronto for the past hour, surely passing half the city at this point. Logic dictated that at least one of his pursuers would have given up by now, realizing the futility of chasing an Irregular through the city''s bowels. Alas, their rage had overcome reason. By now, they''d driven him deep into Ocarina''s gutters¡ªwhere only the shadiest dealings saw the light of day. Yet to fight against three Thaumaturges? Acacia didn¡¯t need to be a genius to know that was sheer and utter suicide.


    He cursed himself for being too weak, nearly tripping on a black cat that scampered across from him. He risked another glance to gauge the distance of his pursuers, but instead of shadows, he saw only light.


    A crimson flash cut through the darkness.


    Red flames streaked past his head. He couldn¡¯t react to it; it was just that fast. He only registered the deadly light moments later, because his eyes were already looking that way. The aftermath arrived like cannon fire, sound trailing destruction as it tore through the air. Acacia''s head turned slowly toward the flames'' destination, a cold sweat beading on his skin as he witnessed the carnage left in its wake.


    Before him, the street had been torn apart, as if a giant fissure had split it open. Trails of fire danced across the shattered asphalt, resembling wheels of chaos. Even after carving through ten meters of road, the inferno left a burning afterimage that scorched the surrounding air. Waves of heat licked at Acacia''s skin, compelling him to come to a halt at this unexpected dead end.


    ¡°That¡¯s how you do it, Gio! You''ve got to teach me that move later!¡± one shadow barked, his laugh sharp and cruel as they closed in.


    "It''s simple," Gio''s voice dripped with spite. "Just vibrate the molecules in the air until flames appear, then control the shape and trajectory. It can turn even the most annoying-to-catch cripples to ash in seconds!"


    The three delinquents advanced slowly now, savoring their prey''s predicament. Only five meters separated them. The flames behind Acacia cast enough light to reveal their forms, and what he saw was a twisted mirror. They all wore the same uniform as him: navy blue blazer, white shirt, red tie with yellow stripes, coal-black oxford shoes, and the imperial phoenix emblem on the right breast.


    Heinemann Preparatory Academy, Ocarina''s leading Thaumaturgy school in the Tachyon Empire, had students easily identifiable by their uniforms. It was a secondary school where individuals blessed by the Convergence and those from nobility pursued the path of Thaumaturgy, each vying for an opportunity to reach greater heights. In the bustling port city, Heinemann represented a shining emblem of progress, but only for those considered deserving.


    Acacia, who possessed neither thaumaturgical talent nor pedigree, had still managed to enroll. The tuition rates without scholarship were astronomical, impossible for a boy surviving on instant noodles to even contemplate.


    His only path in had been through relentless study.


    I had to pull all-nighters, cram for a whole month straight just to get into this school, and I can''t even use any cool esper powers! While these three idiots with the combined intelligence of a donkey can casually shoot fire from their hands?! Why is this world so unfair?


    "Hey cripple, is your tie blocking the flow of your brain, or are you just that stupid?" Gio played with his auburn hair while his lackeys snickered on command. "Heh, weak and stupid¡ªthat''s a horrible combination you''ve got there. You''ve been standing there speechless like you don''t know why we''re hunting you down, you idiot! Should''ve minded your business like a good boy, and we wouldn''t be in this situation. Surely a cripple like you would''ve learned by now to know your place and stay in your lane. Your existence is a mistake, so stop trying to play the hero, you failure!"


    The auburn-haired delinquent''s agitation grew with each word until his final shouts dripped venom. But his target maintained a blank expression, seemingly untouched by the situation. Though cornered, Acacia appeared more at ease than ever.


    "Jeez¡­ that''s the reason you''ve been chasing me like a pack of hyenas?" He rubbed his forehead, gaze bleeding with disappointment. "Don''t you guys have anything better to do, or are you just too braindead to figure out what else to do with your lives?"


    Red prisms of light danced before his face as Gio charged another ball of flames. The gang leader''s silence beckoned him to keep talking¡ªjust so he could blast him point-blank.


    Acacia remained unfazed. After all, there was no heart left in him to signal danger. It had burned away long ago, along with the remains of Litore.


    "How pathetic are you three?" Acacia leveled his gaze at them. "Just because you''re strong doesn''t mean you should abuse your power so carelessly. I was walking back from school, wanting to get a drink at the local store, when I saw you all beating the life out of a weaker student just so he''d buy you stuff. So I stepped in. That''s it."


    The flames grew brighter.


    "I mean, you guys aren''t even that strong to begin with, even less compared to C.R.O.W.N of all things. Using what little power you have to beat up poor kids just makes you look pitiful by comparison."


    The conflagration aimed at his head.


    "You''re no better than someone like me¡ªjust some morons drunk on power."


    And it burst.


    The fireball crossed many meters in half a second, tearing through pavement, asphalt, and what remained of the alley. If Acacia were a normal human, he wouldn''t have been able to react to the incoming firestorm. However...


    Dumbasses.


    A moment was all he needed to escape their clutches. With tempered grace, he dove left just as the flames erupted, yanking open a door to one of the abandoned buildings and slamming it shut behind him as a makeshift barrier. The barrier wouldn''t hold long against their power, but the trailing flames would force them to wait before further pursual.


    Time bought. Now then...


    Acacia retied his loosened tie, mind already racing to the next step. The good news: he''d shaken off those irritating idiots for the moment. The bad news:


    I can¡¯t see anything.


    Although he got away from the delinquents safely, he had another problem to face: the bottom floor he entered was pitch black. The brats would surely wait until the flames extinguished so that they could mop the floor with him on the bottom floor. He needed to get to the upper ground and barricade himself on the rooftop. Using the building walls to find his way through the unlit room, he attempted to turn on one of the light switches; when he found one and flicked it, the illumination he hoped for never came¡ªlike unrequited love.


    There¡¯s no light? Well, it¡¯s called the gutters for a reason. He sighed, dismayed at his utter misfortune. Being chased for miles by Thaumaturges was already one serving of pain, but escaping only to find his planned refuge wasn''t quite up to specification...


    This wasn¡¯t ordinary misfortune.


    This was cursed.


    Almost the same curse that?


    Forget, forget, forget, forget, forget it!


    He felt it, the looming shadow of fate.


    He wasn¡¯t supposed to live for this long.


    Existing beyond his destined death came with consequences. It seemed to desire his disappearance as if some cosmic puppeteer manipulated reality to ensure constant adversity. One must pay a price for every action. That was the world''s immutable law.


    And the price for living beyond his fated time?


    Not even the price of the world was enough to rival it.


    That was why he had to run¡ªfrom the shadow of sin.

 [Volume 1] Chapter 2 - Chained Fate (II)

    <h3 spellcheck="false" style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 2: Chained Fate (II)]


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    Pain was quite an odd sensation.


    It should have been humanity''s greatest fear, the purest survival instinct embedded in their very nature.


    Yet pain had guided many to victory.


    Pain created opportunities for survival.


    Pain built as much as it destroyed.


    So Acacia could only manage a faint smirk when he glanced down to see his hands slathered in bruises and blood from his desperate grip on the railings.


    Yeah, he shouldn¡¯t be worried. He was still human.


    With a single breath, the puppet strings reattached themselves to his corporeal form. His breathing steadied and his sweat evaporated. Any unnatural thoughts were spirited away, unknown, killed, and hidden from his conscious mind.


    The false mind became unaware of the nonexistent heart.


    Clarity returned. The boy resumed his thoughts, using the structure of the room to rush to the upper floor. Though he lacked sight to judge distances, his sense of touch told him exactly what his body was doing. With melodic steps, he made his way upstairs¡ªnearly missing a few treads that broke his rhythmic progress¡ªuntil something cold met his reaching fingertips.


    "Metal." A faint grin ghosted across his features. Without hesitation, he gripped the doorknob and gave it a sharp ninety-degree turn. It opened with a sickening crack that echoed through the stairwell. Relief flooded him when the handle didn''t break off entirely. Though he tried not to dwell on it, the building reeked of decay and abandonment. The structure was clearly a decade past its prime. The dilapidated shell was all that remained of the bustling city of Oswelu¡ªonce a symbol of heaven and asylum for refugees who survived The Great Corruption.


    But such a sanctuary had been uprooted by the inevitable march of technological and thaumaturgical advancement, by the "progress" demanded by the neighboring Tachyon Empire. Those who dared oppose the Empire¡¯s vision were crushed without mercy.


    Conform or die¡ªthat was the choice offered to Oswelu¡¯s people. Through skirmish after skirmish, casualty after casualty, the city finally fell. All "regressives" were "taken care of." And in what might have been the cruelest mockery, the empire¡¯s southwest province of Fiora built one of its trading port cities atop the conquered land¡¯s bones.


    Ocarina was built on the graves of humans.


    No matter how the Empire tried to advance beyond its bloodstained past, its foundations were always rooted in taking lives for selfish gain. As long as that past existed, it would perpetually ripple through present and future like waves disturbing still water.


    Acacia grunted, acknowledging that paying attention in history class had some use in occupying his racing mind. He pushed the door fully open, and at last, his sense of sight returned to him.


    Light, something taken so much for granted, flickered through the widening gap. He turned toward that glimmer and advanced, relieved that his escape seemed complete¡ªat least for now. The illuminated trail broadened into a beam of radiance, colors encroaching on the black room''s territory. Acacia stepped forward.


    "Finally, you''ve arrived! What took you so long, cripple?"


    "Oh great, you again." Acacia''s amusement instantly died upon seeing that the "glorious" ringleader was the only other person on the rooftop. "How''d you even get up here? This must be like two storie¡ª"


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "Fire. Propulsion." On command, a palm-sized flame sprang to life in Gio''s hand¡ªhis sneer as repugnant as the blaze he birthed. "Connect the two, cripple."


    ¡°...What did I even do to you?¡±


    ¡°I own this city. You made a fool out of me in front of my boys. That¡¯s enough of a reason.¡±


    That¡¯s simply how it was with Gio Narma. Acacia wondered whether bedtime story villains had more complex motivations than this.


    ¡°Seriously, you just piss me off!¡±


    Another ray streaked past Acacia. Not like before¡ªit was a spear of pure flame. He barely jerked his head aside in time as the inferno snaked through the air, melting and piercing through the wall he had used for escape.


    The carnage spoke for itself. Death had taken its seat at the table.


    "At 118 degrees Fahrenheit, the human body receives first-degree burns. At 131 degrees, second-degree burns."


    Acacia grabbed his scorched shoulder reflexively, singed and marred by Gio¡¯s assault. No doubt that dodging fire at close range many times caused his body to react badly.


    ¡°At 162 degrees Fahrenheit, human skin begins to melt,¡±


    ¡°Dude, just chill. Let¡¯s call a truce¡ª¡±


    ¡°At this point, I¡¯ve controlled my fire to about 140 degrees maximum.¡±


    Is he for real? Acacia tried to back away, but reality in the shape of a wall struck him like a hammer.


    Gio approached.


    "Hey cripple¡­ if I actually tried, my fire could reach about 500 degrees! Haha, I could burn down this whole damn building if I wanted to!"


    The movement was blinding. Gio''s free hand latched onto his prey, dragging him closer and closer to the inferno on his right. No matter how Acacia struggled, it was futile¡ªGio''s grip was a hawk''s talon piercing mouse flesh.


    Two pairs of eyes¡ªblack and blue¡ªmet.


    ¡°...You, you¡¯re not saying anything?¡±


    The boy was silent.


    "Defective even in speech, eh? You were talking so much smack before, but you''re so silent now. I get it, you''re scared."


    Silence.


    "Damn, you piss me off! Stop looking at me with those eyes like you''re better than me! You''re just a cripple¡ªno better than the dung I step on with my shoe! The Convergence rejected you! God rejected you!" His words were a barrage, flaring with the same intensity as the flames in his grip.


    Because Acacia possessed no power, he had no right to live. That was the doctrine of the Tachyon Empire.


    For an instant, his eye flared.


    ¡°Pathetic.¡±


    A deafening sound ruptured reality''s domain. The world painted itself white.


    Time ceased, then resumed.


    When Acacia opened his eyes, the flames that had threatened to extinguish his life were gone. The rooftop had fallen silent. Darkness crept across the moon as midnight arrived, casting strange shadows across the scene before him.


    He slumped against the wall, exhaustion flooding his limbs. His mind was nothing but a marauding haze trying to piece together what had happened. No. That wasn''t necessary. Sleep. Sleep. Sleeeeepp.


    Wait.


    His eyes snapped wide, reality crashing back with dreadful clarity. Where was Gio? What was that light? Why wasn''t he dead? The fire had been right there, but now there was no flame, no new injuries. Just... what had happened¡ª


    "...I-is this some kind of joke?!"


    But there was no joke in the sight of Gio''s motionless body, lying still in a spreading pool of his own crimson. There was no humor in the way his skull had split, as an overripe fruit dropped from a great height. There was no punchline to the blood painting the rooftop like abstractions of violence.


    There was only the iron bar on the ground, stained with the essence of a human life.


    It was still¡­


    His hands dripping with humanity''s filth.


    In the distance, he thought he heard laughter¡ªor perhaps it was screaming. The stars continued their cold vigil overhead, indifferent to the scene playing out beneath their eternal gaze. Somewhere in the city below, life continued as normal.


    But here, on this rooftop, everything had changed. And there would be no going back to what was before.

 Chapter 3 - Cruelty

    <h3 spellcheck="false" style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 3: Cruelty]


    When his consciousness returned, he was paralyzed.


    No¡ªparalyzed wasn''t quite the right word for this peculiar predicament. His body felt bound, constrained by something both present and ethereal. A thought drifted through his mind.


    <i>¡­Is this¡­sleep paralysis?</i>


    He''d never experienced anything quite so strange before, though "strange" felt woefully inadequate to describe the sensation. In the technologically advanced Tachyon Empire, tales of demons causing sleep paralysis should have been dismissed as superstitious remnants of the Ancient Age. Yet the Empire''s doctrine held firm¡ªit was through the Lord and His divine grace that Thaumaturgy manifested in their world. Thus, stories of angels and demons still permeated their culture, from silver screen productions to children''s bedtime stories.


    <i>Speaking of divine intervention¡­ maybe God could help him out, for "God''s" sake?  </i>


    <i>...Heh. </i>


    <i>Damn, I used to be funnier than this.</i>


    But this was no aftermath of a nightmare, no matter how desperately he wished it to be. Darkness veiled his sight completely akin to an impenetrable curtain drawn across his vision. Each attempt to move his legs was met with resistance. His arms remained similarly immobile, refusing every command his panicked mind issued. Sharp, metallic sounds echoed through the empty room with each attempted movement, a discordant symphony of¡­ chains?


    "He''s awake. Release the restraint." a voice cut through his frantic thoughts, gruff and weathered like aged steel. It carried the unmistakable tone of a career serviceman.


    "Yes, sir. [Inversio].¡±


    ¡°Wha¡ª¡±


    It stung; it felt like hot sauce splashed on his face, right through his eyes even when they were closed. But it was for a fleeting moment, then it returned.


    <i>My sight?</i>


    Light flooded back, initially blinding in its intensity. The chains that had held his vision hostage shattered with that single command, reality bleeding back into focus. Through the haze, shapes gradually coalesced¡ªtwo men standing before his restrained form with broad figures stark against the room''s oppressive whiteness. What a room it was¡ªpainfully, artificially white, with tiles stacked in endless rows and columns, creating what humans would generously call a "room." But that word felt wrong, almost offensive in its inadequacy. Normal rooms held warmth, suggesting habitability.


    This space was a prison, a sterile cage designed to break monsters.


    "Don''t tell me you''re spacing out already. It''s only been your first few hours inside of the White Room." The utterance came from a middle-aged man whose face bore a jagged scar and tone dripping with contempt.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    "W-White...Room?" Acacia slowly repeated, as if the words themselves tasted appalling.


    "Yes." The scarred man grunted. "This is Ocarina¡¯s Investigation Department. Within this sector lies the White Room: an interrogation device used to expunge the filthiest truths from criminals."


    ¡°Yes sir, I know that¡ª¡±


    ¡°As anyone who has passed primary school should,¡± the man added.


    <i>How helpful¡­ </i>


    "But I don''t get why I''m here, though. All I remember doing last night was walking home from the public library, and now I''m chained up." Acacia struggled to piece together yesterday''s events, but nothing explained his presence in a <i>literal </i>interrogation room. "If I did something wrong, like jaywalking¡ª" he had to suppress a nervous laugh at the absurdity of being interrogated for crossing the street "¡ªI''m sorry if I ever did that. But I doubt that''s why I''m here. You guys can''t possibly be that crazy, so could you explain, buddies?"


    "..."


    Acacia looked up.


    Then down.


    Needles.


    They came without warning¡ªprickly, barbed, a million of them skewering his body. He wanted to scream, but a thousand more lodged in his mouth, stealing his voice. The urge to cry overwhelmed him, but another ten thousand needles forced his eyes open like cruel chopsticks, denying even that small mercy. Unable to cry, unable to scream... he could only lower his head as the crushing weight bore down. A single needle might weigh little more than a feather, but a thousand¡ªa million¡ªcould easily crush a human soul.


    Yet the needles didn¡¯t exist. At least, not physically. They were all products of Acacia¡¯s mind. The men imposed the feeling of needles into Acacia¡¯s imagination through sheer thaumaturgical energy¡ªprana.


    Paralyzed, his bloodshot eyes shot wide open, just like a corpse.


    "Silence, <i>Irregular</i>." The command froze Acacia''s thoughts mid-stream. "You misunderstand your place."


    His tone was steel. His prana saturated the air, suffocating and appalling, the phantom needles manifesting his pure malice. At that moment, the "Irregular" truly understood his position. In this world of Thaumaturgy, where life''s path was predetermined at birth, he possessed no right to speak. He was cattle. Their uniforms marked them clearly¡ªImperial Police Association. Of course they''d look down on an invalid who couldn¡¯t practice Thaumaturgy like him. What had he even hoped to achieve with all his talking? Friendship with police officers?


    "Don¡¯t play coy with me. You should know exactly why you''re in the White Room." The scarred man dropped to a dangerous whisper. "I have to wonder, why did you do it? Did you not accept your place in the world? Was the heir truly caught off guard by a lowlife? Maybe you hired someone to assassinate him¡ªthough with what a student can afford, you''d need years to plan what a Thaumaturge could accomplish in seconds."


    Acacia couldn''t speak. The option simply didn''t exist. If he''d been a Thaumaturge, he might have fought back against the oppressive prana by releasing his own. But he wasn''t. He was an Irregular¡ªdefenseless against even the simplest Thaumaturgy.


    "Look at yourself." The scarred man seized Acacia''s curly black hair, ripping several strands loose. "You can''t scream. Can''t yell. Can''t even whisper. It¡¯s pathetic to think someone like you shares space with top-class criminals. At least they maintained their honor, never once pretending ignorance." He yanked harder, dragging Acacia''s head forward until barely inches separated them.


    The boy¡¯s throat had turned to desert sand, blocking any sound he might have made. It wasn''t the officer''s threats that paralyzed him, nor even the phantom needles piercing his flesh. These torments¡­ he''d grown accustomed to such things.


    The fact that he seriously did not know what the officer was talking about <i>absolutely </i>frightened him.


    "C-C-Crime? I didn''t even do anything! Hitman? Heir? Assassination? Seriously, what are you two even talking about?!"


    "Ha! You still don''t know?" A ghastly smile split the man''s face, his scar twisting into something grotesque. "Oh my days, you actually managed to block out your memories from yesterday. Though I suppose after what happened, anyone normal would, right? Irregular?"


    He savored the word like poison honey.


    "Allow me to indulge you."


    Acacia had always possessed a shoddy memory, but it would be impossible to forget that man¡¯s face.


    His eyes, his gaping mouth, his vicious and crooked teeth, and that scar¡­he remembered that the world was truly cursed.


    ¡°Yesterday, May 31st, Giovanni Copernicus Narma was murdered. You are the prime suspect."

 Chapter 4 - Cruelty (II)

    <h3 spellcheck="false" style="text-align: center"><b>[Volume 1 | Chapter 4: Cruelty (II)]</b>


    "You''re in my way."


    Terse, the woman¡¯s words cut through dissenters like a blade through silk. "I''m in a rush. Step aside."


    "Lady, please wait. I don''t know who you are, but Ocarina¡¯s Investigation Department is currently closed. Please return at a later date." The guard tried to exert some forced authority, but his body betrayed him. He and his fellow officers stationed before the building radiated equal tension as well. From the outside, it might have seemed a simple case of an unauthorized visitor seeking entry. Yet the guards stood drenched in sweat, hearts racing, eyes bloodshot with barely contained panic.


    It was because of the sheer prana radiating from the ebony woman like a tidal wave.


    "Shut up. I feel like if I hear your hideous voice any longer, I''m going to get an ear infection." She flipped silver hair from her face, casually picking at her ear before flicking away the debris. Several guards cringed at the crude display as she closed the distance between herself and the spokesman.


    And then, she shoved a card in the man¡¯s face.


    "Y-You''re an¡­ Inquisitor?"


    ¡°<i>High </i>Inquisitor.¡± Stepping back, she¡¯d flipped it around before putting it back in her pocket. ¡°In return for wasting ten seconds of my life, <i>you </i>will lead the way to the commanding officer.¡±


    ¡°Y-Yes, ma¡¯am!¡± Devoid of resistance, he submitted to the tall ebony woman¡¯s will. He ran in front of her to open the door of the building while the other guards were left to their own devices, visibly shaken.


    Inside, Ocarina¡¯s Investigation Department hummed with barely contained tension. On every surface, every person seemed frozen in bureaucratic amber¡ªIPA officers and clerks alike glued to their assignments like automated components in some vast machine. Documents, coffee cups, and scattered pens littered desks despite it being a Sunday, everyone laboring as if weekend rest was a mere myth. Though Inquisitors and police officers served different roles in the Empire¡¯s machinery, they shared one truth: "days off" existed only in fantasy.


    The silver-haired woman allowed herself a moment of silent empathy for that particular burden.


    "This way, miss." Her guide motioned toward the stairs. She acknowledged it with a grunt, following him upward in taut silence.


    "This is the fifth floor where we conduct advanced interrogation methods, including the ''White Room.'' The Investigation Department chief, who''s handling our most recent case, is currently inside with the prime suspect. He''s been interrogating him for several hours, I''d imagine. He should be coming out¡ª"


    The door swung open.


    "Now, I suppose." The guide sighed resignedly. This wouldn''t end well.


    The woman¡¯s golden eyes narrowed hawkishly as two men emerged. The first carried himself with military bearing, his face marked by a scar that ran from right eye to mouth. The second, shorter and less imposing, sported a crooked nose that suggested intimate familiarity with violence.


    "So which one of you is the head of the Investigation Department?" She cut straight to the point as the door was closed behind them.


    "Jonas," the scarred man addressed her guide, pointedly ignoring her question. "I wasn''t aware we''d started opening our doors to anyone, especially during such a sensitive case. I thought I taught you better as my right-hand man. Explain yourself."


    Though he''d asked for an explanation, his eyes transmitted a clearer message which was: ¡®You have <i>no </i>excuse. Say goodbye to your job.¡¯


    Jonas attempted speech, but his stuttering might as well have been an alien tongue. He resembled nothing so much as a rabbit caught in a hunter''s crosshairs.


    "He needs no explanation. After all, I am here." The woman''s perpetual expression of annoyance shifted to something more dangerous¡ªa predator''s confident sneer. The scarred man mirrored her expression with his own cocky smile.


    "Forgive my impudence, High Inquisitor Kircheisen, but what brings you to our humble headquarters? I''d sooner expect hell to freeze over than to see an Inquisitor of your status grace Ocarina."


    "Spare me the small talk. Believe me, I wouldn''t step foot inside this pathetic excuse for a police department if I didn''t have orders."


    ¡°...Orders?¡± The scarred man¡¯s brow furrowed, displeased with how he was supposed to interpret this.


    "Your most recent case regarding the murder of Giovanni Copernicus Narma now falls under my jurisdiction until I receive satisfactory information. Under Lex Imperium X of Tachyonia Primaria, I have no obligation to reveal <i>why </i>and <i>who </i>specifically requested such a mandate, provided they hold elevated status such as..."


    "A Viceroy!" He exploded in a fit of rage. "Damn vultures! You think you can simply take this case from us? This is a domestic issue that stays <i>within </i>Ocarina! We do <i>not </i>need Inquisitor interference!" His hands seized the creases of her uniform, knuckles white with barely contained fury.


    "Regardless of your feelings, you have no choice but to relinquish this case." Her smirk widened, daring him to maintain his grip. "Consider this a ''separation of powers.'' I would loathe seeing such a beautiful station closed because of their inability to follow orders from superiors."


    Silence.


    He let go of her uniform.


    "As head of Ocarina¡¯s Investigation Department and IPA, I will surrender the case of Giovanni Copernicus Narma."


    <i>That was quick. </i>Jonas deadpanned.


    The scarred man paused, weighing his next words carefully. "The prime suspect awaits inside. He''s awake, though rather¡­ cantankerous."


    "Meh, I''d be too if I were cooped up in the White Room. What is he again, a grade-schooler?" She yawned inappropriately, approaching the interrogation room as if this were no more complex than catching a common thief.


    "He attends Heinemann, yes. Though something escapes me..." the chief began. "How could a mere Irregular, possessing neither funds nor allies, possibly murder one of Ocarina''s brightest prodigies?"


    ¡°The question of the day, yeah?¡± Ending it with a rhetorical, the woman entered the room, leaving Jonas and the scarred man to themselves.


    Minutes stretched into silence as the two men processed the unprecedented situation. Even Jonas struggled to accept what he''d witnessed¡ªhis superior, notorious for his stubborn hatred of the central government, voluntarily surrendering a case that could have put Ocarina''s Investigation Department on the map.


    "I hate her. I hate all of those damn Inquisitors. Stealing our jobs like this...!"


    Well, Jonas guessed ¡°voluntarily¡± was pushing it. The scarred man merely chose the smartest option, whether he liked it or utterly despised it.


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    ¡°We have to take care of the most mundane of cases, but whenever we strike gold and find one that will make people take us seriously, they always show up and steal it like the rats they are! I didn¡¯t retire from the Legion for this!¡±


    Jonas could only sigh.


    ¡°That¡¯s just life, boss.¡±


    <b>* * *</b>


    The White Room''s door slammed shut with a thunderous roar. High Inquisitor Kircheisen had perfected this entrance over countless interrogations¡ªthe violent arrival designed to provoke reaction, to reveal emotion, insecurity, even buried thoughts. A single gesture could expose everything. She''d performed this ritual hundreds of times. Every suspect had reacted.


    Until now.


    "Acacia, right? No surname is rather peculiar." She lazily skimmed his file, masking her unease at his complete non-response. "I must say, I''m impressed you''re still intact after enduring the White Room. Your previous interrogators have been relieved of duty for the time being. From now on, I will ask the questions. I am Pandora Kircheisen, and I hope we can reach the truth amicably."


    Unlike her predecessors, Pandora maintained an air of cordiality. She carried no obvious malice toward the boy, regardless of his status or alleged crime. Though her changed approach earned no response, it marked a distinct shift in procedure. She settled into the chair across from him, studying his downturned face.


    "Let''s start fresh. You stand accused of second degree murder for the death of Giovanni Copernicus Narma. Under Tachyonia Primaria, murdering a fellow subject¡ªwithout explicit permission or sanctioned duel¡ªranks among our Empire¡¯s gravest offenses. Factor in Giovanni''s status as heir to the House of Narma, and frankly, your chances of execution are astronomically high even as a mere suspect. The local IPA clearly wants quick resolution, hence their¡­ draconian methods. But as an Inquisitor of the Divine Court, I serve truth above all else."


    The boy remained silent, yet Pandora continued, her voice carrying the same measured composure.


    "I need your cooperation, Acacia. As things stand, your silence guarantees your death. If we uncover the truth together, two paths emerge: worst case, we confirm your guilt, and you face the same fate. But there exists another possibility¡ªperhaps you''re an innocent boy caught in a murderous web. In that case, you walk free, returning to normal life. I can''t guarantee either outcome unless you share your story and everything you remember from that night. Without your voice today, your fate is sealed in a coffin."


    She leaned closer to him. His disheveled hair and hunched back refused her internal plight to see his eyes, but she was close.


    A twitch. The smallest tell.


    "Acacia, tell me what happened on May 31st, between eight and nine in the evening. I promise to listen without judgment, no matter how unsightly or disturbing your tale might be. I''ll hear it to the very end."


    ¡°...¡±


    ¡°¡ª!¡±


    The boy''s body convulsed violently, like a firecracker igniting from within. But just as fireworks inevitably fade, his sudden animation ceased, leaving him more statue than human.


    ¡°...Kill me.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Please, kill me. I don¡¯t want to live anymore.¡±


    For the first time since she entered the White Room, she saw his eyes. Marauding and ghoulish¡ªthe boy with no name, no history, and no family had died. A dead man seated, the boy had already resigned to the fact that his life was over. Truthfully, he didn¡¯t need to be killed since his soul had left his body; an execution was only a formality at this point.


    What could she say? What words could possibly reach him? Every criminal she''d interrogated¡ªdespite vast differences in behavior and background¡ªshared one fundamental trait: the desire to live. A suspect who''d abandoned that basic human instinct couldn''t be interrogated as human. Therein lay Acacia''s fatal contradiction¡ªa living being who''d rejected life itself. He''d become a walking paradox that challenged everything Pandora Kircheisen thought she knew.


    "I''m not in a humorous mood." Pandora tried to reassert control of a conversation so far off on the deep end. "Frankly, I find it difficult to believe a few hours in the White Room could extinguish your will to live." She abandoned her earlier languor, movements sharp as she extracted a slim folder from her bag. The dossier hit the table, papers aligned with military exactness.


    "Your legal file tells an interesting story. Fifteen years old, enrolled at Heinemann Preparatory Academy as a third-year student. Average disposition, unremarkable extracurriculars, no noble pedigree recognized by imperial law. By all measures, you appear to be the quintessential Ocarina adolescent. The White Room typically requires days to break the average person¡ªnot hours. Logic dictates that you, this perfectly average boy, should retain at least a spark of inner fire."


    "...So it would seem." The words scraped past the mountain of resistance in his throat.


    "But that''s merely surface analysis. Turn the page¡ª" her fingers danced across crisp paper "¡ªand we find two crucial divergences from the mean. First: your status as an Irregular. Second: your orphaned state. No living parents, no blood relatives, no traceable lineage. Your current disposition seems rooted in something deeper than mere interrogation. Whether guilt, trauma, or hatred drives this death wish, it didn''t originate in the White Room."


    He twitched. She smirked.


    "Therefore, I must deny your request for an immediate execution."


    "...Why? I never asked for any of this¡ªno, that doesn''t even matter anymore. Nothing I say will change minds. You feign care like those before you. You don''t seek truth; you want a convenient scapegoat. Do us all a favor and end this charade with my <i>death</i>." Each word was launched like a poisoned arrow, meant to pin her beneath their weight with syllabic rhythm.


    "I pursue truth above all. I simply do not look favorably upon lies." She dismissed his venom with an elegant hair twirl. "Don¡¯t you think that carrying it to the grave is causing a disservice to other Irregulars? You¡¯re not exactly helping their reputation if you''re refusing to disclose what really happened due to misplaced doubt.¡±


    "...Do you honestly believe that changes anything?"


    ¡°Answering a question with another question is the mark of a fool.¡±


    ¡°Not that much different from how you guys operate.¡±


    <i> </i>Pandora clicked her tongue. The boy''s psychological barriers proved more resilient than expected, but she''d cracked harder cases. In her eyes, this was merely the tantrum of a child in an adult''s world.


    "So? What victory do you expect to find in death?"


    Words died in his throat, strangled by cold logic.


    "You die. Your name remains forever stained as the murderer of Ocarina''s rising star. Every subject spits upon your grave. All because you couldn''t endure temporary discomfort¡ªbecause pride prevented you from accepting the hand extended in mercy."


    "You know nothing."


    "I know enough. What fantasy plays in your mind? That mommy and daddy watch from heaven, ready to kiss away the booboos left by these mean officers because their precious child won''t speak a word of truth?"


    "You¡ª!"


    "Just shut up!" The firecracker reignited and burst. "You think I wanted any of this?! You think I chose to be branded a murderer?! I don''t know anything! I don''t even know how I ended up in this room! What do you expect from me?!"


    Acacia exposed his true colors in a violent swirl.


    "Say I tell everyone the ''truth''¡ªthat I actually have no memory of killing him. What then? You think that would sway even one mind? I''m not a damn genius, but even I understand how they see me." Sweat drenched his trembling frame, composure abandoned like scattered ashes.


    "Those eyes... those looks of pure disgust... I feel them burning into me even now! I-I can''t continue. What''s the point of living when I can''t walk home without people thirsting for my death?!" His fingers clawed at his hair as consciousness seemed to flutter at the edges of his mind. "...I give up. They win."


    ¡°If you don¡¯t believe that you committed murder, then how was it that Giovanni¡¯s corpse and blood were in close proximity to yourself?¡±


    ¡°That¡ª¡±


    The world painted itself white.


    <i>Upon this rose, I swear that you shall not die. </i>


    Bile ran up his throat, burning like the insides of his neck were on top of a gas stove. He couldn¡¯t speak; if he opened his mouth for even a second, yesterday¡¯s lunch would splatter on the interrogation table.


    The vomit descended.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Coldly, he finished his sentence with finality.


    Pandora rubbed her face as she contemplated the futility before her. The spark she''d ignited had guttered out quicker than she expected, and the door to Acacia''s truth hadn''t merely closed¡ªit had reinforced itself against any who might attempt to pick its lock. But more significantly, she noticed something she''d overlooked until now, something that chilled her to her core.


    "Is this your final¡ª"


    "Decision? Yes. Are you done? Can you leave?"


    She''d seen that expression before, but never on one so young. That particular hollow gaze belonged to veterans, soldiers who''d witnessed war''s deepest horrors and returned carrying pieces of hell within them.


    An expression she knew all too well.


    "Very well. Your execution is hereby ordered. Let it be known that under the law of Tachyonia Primaria, you stand convicted for the murder of Giovanni Copernicus Narma. As with all death sentences not involving treason or explicit interference with government affairs as an Irregular, you are granted five days of freedom before execution. You will face death on June 6th at noon. The Narma patriarch retains jurisdiction over whether your execution shall be public or private."


    "...I see."


    Pandora finally understood the fundamental wrongness of the boy before her. His eyes held absolute resignation, embracing death''s cold promise like a lover''s kiss. What kind of life had he endured to reach such a conclusion?


    Had fate always intended this end for him?


    "I have nothing more to say. Use those days wisely. They will be your last.¡± She maintained her stern facade, hoping against hope it might spark some final resistance in him.


    ¡°...¡±


    It did not.


    High Inquisitor Kircheisen, whose record of successful cases remained untarnished throughout her career, faced her first true defeat. Not against a hardened criminal or clever mastermind, but against a child who''d already died inside.


    <i>Bismarck... I couldn''t save him. This far exceeds my capabilities. Any further attempts would only hasten his journey toward death. </i>


    <i>After all, I cannot save someone who has already died.</i>

 Chapter 5 - Humanitys Fickleness

    <h3 spellcheck="false" style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 5: Humanity¡¯s Fickleness]


    June 3rd, 418 E.V.


    Summer break arrived like a tsunami, sweeping through the nation as Primary and Secondary Schools released their students from academic rigors. In Ocarina, where Heinemann Academy stood as the city''s sole prestigious institution, the final bell''s ring unleashed a flood of youths onto sun-drenched streets. For most, summer break manifested as a brilliant spectacle. The fervent flame of youth ignited the port city, their energy mingling with warm sunbeams to create an illusion of perfect contentment. Everywhere, life bloomed in vibrant display¡ªstudents crowding thrift shops and amusement parks, filling libraries with whispered conversations, gathering for impromptu Thaumaturgy demonstrations. To those who saw only pleasure at the tunnel''s end, Ocarina had transformed into paradise.


    But this happiness was nothing more than a carefully crafted ruse.


    Beneath the Tachyon Empire''s gilded surface festered an abyss, its maw ravenous for those who dared peer too deeply into its depths. Those unfortunate enough to be swallowed by this darkness found no escape, their voices joining a chorus of the silenced. Here dwelt the bloodied remnants of the oppressed, the putrid roots of societal corruption¡ªall of it sealed away in a chasm that seemed both impossible to flee and hopeless to illuminate.


    It was into this very abyss that a certain Irregular found himself staring right at.


    For others, June 3rd marked the first day of national paradise, where innocent flowers would bloom and drink deeply of life''s pleasures. But for Acacia, it was something else entirely: his final day of freedom. His flower would not bloom with the others. Instead, it would wither, joining countless others that had wilted to make way for society''s chosen blossoms. Tomorrow brought judgment, an exodus from his mortal coil¡ªan execution that would finally set his soul adrift.


    And like everything else that vanished into the abyss, no one would know of his death.


    Rather, no one would care. The IPA had granted the Irregular three final days of freedom, though ¡°freedom¡± rang hollow in its irony. Had he been a Thaumaturge, he would have returned home under constant surveillance, his every movement tracked by government personnel, death hovering over each potential infraction. But for an Irregular, Tachyonia Primaria held different provisions. Those on death row were deemed "no longer human"¡ªa designation that carried layers of morbid meaning, but whose practical effect was perhaps crueler still: the government saw no need to monitor those they considered already dead in spirit.


    This allowed Acacia to receive three days of complete liberty¡ªor what passed for liberty within carefully drawn boundaries. It used to be five days, but the officers taking care of his case pushed up the date to tomorrow for reasons they refused to directly elaborate. He couldn''t leave Ocarina''s borders. His legal rights had been stripped away like dead skin. Each night, he was expected to return to his cell an hour before midnight, with death as the price of tardiness. A bitter joke, really, that Irregulars enjoyed more freedom than regular subjects, if only in their final moments.


    Despite this, the boy stayed in his cell for the first two days.


    Three years he had lived in Ocarina, and in all that time, not once had he felt the warmth of belonging. How could he? He was an Irregular¡ªa fundamental rejection of the Empire¡¯s pristine vision. In a world of advanced technology and powerful reality benders, what use was there for someone who couldn''t even grasp miracles? He had survived, yes, scraping by on blue-collar jobs and education, but survival wasn''t living. And tomorrow¡­ well, tomorrow waited with fangs open wide.


    <i>What even is there to do? All that remains is delaying the inevitable. </i>


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Perhaps that was why on the third day, he finally stepped outside¡ªnot from any change of heart, but simply to taste fresh air one last time before the end. The port borders were just beyond the marketplace; he hated traversing that densely packed space, but it offered the quickest route to his destination.


    He never realized how beautiful the city was, but today, his cursory glances soon turned to an introspective examination of the port town. Perhaps in the face of death, one notices more details of life than before.


    The sky was unbelievably beautiful. It was gems of blue proliferating the bright horizon in seemingly infinite numbers. Detached wisps of white cloud drifted like stray thoughts across that vast expanse. Staring upward made Acacia feel paradoxically small yet expansive as if he simultaneously understood everything and nothing about his place in this world.


    He glanced earthward.


    Perhaps a few years his junior, children darted through Ocarina''s bustling marketplace streets. He watched them with a scholar''s fascination, noting how freely they moved through the crowd. Their faces showed no trace of malice, their laughter untainted by hardship¡ªat least in this moment. They simply existed, unburdened by the weight of their own existence.


    Further along, Heinemann students congregated in their pristine uniforms, marking territory among market stalls. They traded jokes and casual touches, their circle complete and closed¡ªequals acknowledging equals. Acacia recognized them as the popular crowd, the ones who had never spared him a second glance in school halls. Their smiles seemed to radiate such pure light that it burned through corruption itself, and despite everything, he felt envy''s thorns twist in his chest. Friendship. Such a simple thing to yearn for, yet he knew his hands would never truly clasp another''s in honest companionship. Some dreams were better left as mere pipe dreams.


    "Hey, has anyone heard from ____ yet?" A girl''s voice cut through the market noise¡ªone of the popular ones. Acacia nearly choked on air. That name.


    "Nope. Bastard''s not even at his house. Parents are busy too, so we can''t ask them. Even the maids have no clue," came the rough reply from one of the boys.


    "I hope he''s okay... it''s not like him just to vanish¡ª"


    "Not like him? Hah!" Another boy cut in, tone bearing confidence fueled by familiarity. "You should''ve seen him during last year''s turf wars. He''d disappear for weeks, then show up to demolish everyone at Ithaca. Don''t worry so much. He''s probably out there right now, hunting for new competition. Worst case, we can always ask his little lackeys that follow him.¡±


    "I''ve been itching to test myself anyway. Those idiots he keeps around might be good practice. Can''t believe how ___ has them wrapped around his finger!" replied the rough-voiced boy. "___ this, ___ that, ''save me ___!'' Pathetic!"


    <i>Stop it. Stop saying his name.</i>


    "Like anything bad could happen to ___. That''s impossible, right? Though people were talking about assassination attempts since he is a noble..."


    <i>	</i><i>Stop it! Just stop!</i>


    <i>	</i><i>¡°</i>Honestly, if you tried to kill ____ of all people, you¡¯d have to be a pretty bad person down to the core. I¡¯d have a lot of questions for whoever raised you.¡±


    He ran.


    He couldn''t stop running. If he stopped, then the inferno of guilt behind him would surely devour his very soul. His feet carried him without direction or purpose, each step like landing on knives of flame. Every cell in his lethargic body screamed in protest, but he couldn''t stop. Their casual words echoed in his mind, each syllable a fresh torment. None of it was real. They weren''t really talking about him. He couldn''t¡ªwouldn''t¡ªaccept it. But if he stopped, everything would be over. What they said wasn''t real. They weren¡¯t talking about <i>him. </i>He couldn''t accept it.


    Look, Acacia really didn¡¯t like Gio¡­ but he didn¡¯t <i>kill </i>him, right?


    That lie couldn''t possibly be true. It wasn''t that Acacia denied Gio''s death¡ªthat reality was immutable. What his mind refused to accept was the possibility that he, Acacia, had killed Giovanni Narma. After all, wasn''t delusion kinder than reality? Wasn''t a comforting lie the better choice when truth threatened to break oneself? He desperately wanted to prove them wrong, to show the truth he believed in his bones. But he''d forgotten society''s most fundamental law: truth was whatever those in power decided it should be. He knew this, deep in the marrow of his being, even as his conscious mind rebelled against it.


    Giovanni Narma was dead, and he was the prime suspect.


    It didn''t matter that he had no memory of dealing the killing blow¡ªsociety needed its scapegoat, and an Irregular made the perfect sacrifice. And so, in the eyes of his world, he became what they needed him to be: a cold-blooded murderer.


    His body''s exhaustion finally granted him moments of cruel respite. Bitter irony led his stumbling feet to the very place where this fruitless tale had begun: Ocarina''s gutters. In a dim alleyway, he slammed his palms against a dead-end wall, struggling to force air into burning lungs. Sweat drenched him from crown to sole, its pungent scent a reminder of his own unsightly desperation. Eventually, his legs gave way and he slid down, back pressed against rough stone. The wall became his bastion¡ªthe only protector left to an Irregular in a luckless world.


    <i>Running away... is this all I can ever do? </i>


    No answer came. None ever would.

 Chapter 6 - Humanitys Fickleness (II)

    <h3 spellcheck="false" style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 6: Humanity¡¯s Fickleness (II)]


    As Acacia walked through the coasts of Ocarina¡¯s port, the incessant rain seemed to mirror the emptiness from within. Each droplet struck him like a mournful weight. The grim sky and the rhythmic patter of raindrops echoed in his ears.


    He drifted asleep against the gutter walls.


    Only the raindrops batting against his skin woke him up from his sudden slumber. Alone and aimless, the Irregular drifted like the nearby waves. He ultimately found himself at the ports. The crashing waves amplified his sense of finality. Morbidly enough, the more he lingered with the void in his chest, the less he felt unfixed about his execution.It was likely evening, judging by the darkness. There were only a few hours left before it was time to return to his cell. The ports reminded him of Litore before <i>that </i>happened, so he figured he¡¯d stroll around there for nostalgia¡¯s sake.


    <i>I¡¯m already thinking like an old man¡­ I can¡¯t be that cringy, right? </i>Acacia sighed, his lips curving upward involuntarily.


    Huh, he hadn¡¯t realized it was his first smile in a while.


    His smile faded as the wind picked up, driving the rain harder. His clothes clung to his body as the atmosphere grew bleak by the second. He watched the waves crash violently against the rocks. He sought refuge in one of the piers with a header over it. It was run-down, but the rain left him no choice.


    Soaked, Acacia sat at the edge of the pier. He sat for hours, watching the churning waves crash against the port. The cold air and water droplets made him feel small and vulnerable. If this was a horror movie, he would have been killed by now.


    The world felt like an ensnaring abyss. It felt cruel that such a world mirrored the ocean he loved.


    Watching the sea, memories of Litore surfaced. It was unfathomably beautiful¡ªthat¡¯s why he loved it. But the port had its charm; the vast sea, the crashing waves, and the raindrops reflecting his mood.


    The night deepened as rain slowed to silence over Ocarina''s piers. Acacia let his legs dangle over the wooden edge, exhaling slowly as he stretched. It was time to head back, he supposed. The air hung heavy with salt and petrichor¡ªthat distinctive scent when rain kisses earth. It was almost peaceful.


    Then a voice shattered that illusion.


    "Thought you could hide here, huh? Has your brain gone defective, Irregular?" The words carried that same cruel inflection he knew too well, even if the voice itself was unfamiliar. Two others snickered in echo, and Acacia turned his head toward the sound.


    "Please, I swear that was all the money I¡ª"


    "Had? Don''t feed me that crap! You got paid tonight¡ªwe watched you. What, blow it all on garbage already?"


    "Wait, please¡ªI can pay triple next week! My family''s struggling with bills right now, I just need¡ª"


    "Your family?" The question dripped with mock concern. "An Irregular talking about family?"


    The scene unfolding was achingly familiar¡ªthree figures looming over a smaller one, their school insignias marking them as students from other academies. Different uniforms, same story. The strong preying on the weak, nature''s most primitive law playing out under civilization''s thin veneer. In a world where most could command the elements while others remained powerless, what other outcome could there be?


    After all, no amount of determination could let an Irregular throw fireballs. No volume of sweat and tears would grant them control over storms. The physics that bound them were as immutable as the prejudice that haunted their steps. Even now, Acacia could only watch as the natural order reasserted itself, as it always had, as it always would.


    "Hmm... Triple the payment next week or get my money right now?" The ringleader made a show of contemplation, dark intent bleeding through his facade. "You know what? Let me help you with that decision."


    His hand shot out¡ªcasual, almost lazy¡ªand air coalesced into a rotating sphere, aimed squarely at the cornered Irregular''s chest.


    ¡°[Roa].¡±


    The compressed wind struck like a sledgehammer. The boy''s body crumpled, skidding across damp wood as he gasped desperately for air that wouldn''t come. Laughter erupted from the trio, sharp and hollow as breaking glass. They could have simply taken what they wanted. But that was never really the point, was it?


    "Screw your family," spat the leader, the previous pretense abandoned. "In fact, screw you for making me even consider it. Irregulars like you?" His lips curled into something too cruel to be called a smile. "You need to learn your place."


    He then turned to his companions, voice dropping to a command that dripped with casual malice.


    ¡°Rough him up.¡±


    The order unleashed the others. One seized the boy''s neck, hurling him toward his partner like a ragdoll. The second caught and slammed him down, wooden planks groaning under the impact. A fist whistled toward the fallen Irregular''s face¡ªhe jerked aside, survival instinct granting him a moment''s reprieve. Another blow missed by a hair''s breadth, but desperation could only carry him so far. A punch found his stomach, and his world dissolved into pain.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Acacia watched on.


    <i>¡°Do you hate this?¡±</i>


    A voice, indescribable, from within.


    <i>Yes, I do! I hate it so much!</i>


    <i>¡°Then why aren¡¯t you doing anything?¡±</i>


    <i>Because I¡¯m powerless, completely powerless! I can¡¯t do anything. I don¡¯t have any powers! I¡¯m just an Irregular like him! What </i><b><i>can </i></b><i>I do?</i>


    <i>¡°That is incorrect. You do have the strength to overthrow those who abuse their power, but you are scared.¡±</i>


    <i>¡°You are scared of the fact that you will have to go against the world. That you will have to impose your ?<b>Law</b>? </i><b><i></i></b><i>in this ghetto of endless repetition.¡±</i>


    <i>¡°But in a world where inequality is rampant and equality is silenced. Can one truly see this as acceptable?¡±</i>


    <i>¡°If for even an ephemeral moment, can you break this cycle?¡°</i>


    He remembered what that woman¡ªPandora Kirchiesen¡ªtold him. If he took the first step, he could become a symbol of Irregulars by inspiring hope, determination, and perseverance of the hearts of the oppressed. All if¡­


    <i>I take the first step.</i>


    And so, Acacia chose to escape the ghetto of repetition.


    His footsteps, at first muffled against rain-soaked planks, grew deliberate and loud. The sound drew the trio''s attention, their heads turning in unison to face this new intrusion. Their expressions shifted curiously¡ªsurprise, then disdain, then something deeper, as if catching an unwanted glimpse of their own reflection in the Irregular who dared to stand before them.


    "Leave him alone."


    The boys exchanged glances, momentarily thrown by this unexpected deviation from their script.


    The ringleader recovered first, arrogance reasserting itself as he invaded Acacia''s space. "And who exactly do you think you are, Irregular apologist? Playing hero for this worthless loser? You''re just as defective as he is!"


    ¡°If I¡¯m worthless, then what are you?¡±


    "...What did you just say?"


    "You have all the power in the world at your fingertips. You could reshape reality itself. Instead, you spend your nights hunting people just trying to survive. If you guys are just jokes, then I refuse to be the punchline.¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°Shut <i>up!¡±</i>


    The punch came fast¡ªtoo fast for an untrained eye to follow. It carried the force to drive air from lungs, yet the impact felt hollow. He registered the connection, the jolt of contact, but something was missing. The power that should have surged through that blow felt... empty. Without conscious thought, his own fist shot forward. The instant it struck the bully¡¯s face, reality seemed to fracture. Raindrops hung suspended in midair. Waves halted their crash. Even time itself faltered, as though the world had been sealed within a bubble of perfect stillness.


    The leader staggered back, blood streaming from his nose. His eyes widened as he stared at his crimson-stained palm, his expression twisting into something between rage and disbelief.


    "The hell did you do to me?¡±


    "I punched you." Acacia deadpanned.


    "You''re dead meat!" He lunged forward, fist cutting through air where Acacia''s head had been a moment before. Rage made his movements predictable¡ªa fundamental law that held true whether one invoked miracles or stood powerless before them. The bully realized his mistake too late, stumbling as his target slipped away by a few.


    ¡°[Roa]!¡±


    Trying to correct his mistake, he shot out another spell. The wind materialized instantly, crossing the space between them like a bullet. Acacia didn''t run. He planted his feet against the drenched wood and crossed his arms, meeting the wind head-on. The impact sent him sliding backward, shoes scraping against the pier, but he held his stance defiantly.


    Behind him, the shivering Irregular watched in bewilderment. Everything about this scene felt wrong, like watching someone defy gravity. Through swollen eyes, he saw the angry red welts forming on Acacia''s arms where he''d blocked the spell. This was madness.


    Battles that couldn''t be won, shouldn''t be fought.


    "W-what are you doing?" he stuttered. "Please, just get away! It''s too dangerous!"


    ¡°Why should I?¡± said Acacia, not bothering to turn his head.


    "You''re an Irregular too! You know it''s impossible to win against them¡ªyou''ll get yourself killed!" The words came out as a desperate shriek, incomprehension giving way to fear. Not for himself now, but for this stranger who''d stepped into his nightmare.


    Acacia, however, simply chuckled.


    He then turned his head around, facing the boy with a gentle smile.


    ¡°And so?"


    "What?"


    "Does being an Irregular mean we don''t have eyes to see what''s wrong? Does it mean that we bear no mouths to speak up? Does it mean we don''t have hands to fight back? Does it mean we don''t have legs to stand up?"


    "..."


    "I''m not just an Irregular." The words carried an odd serenity, like a fine abstraction¡ªthe truth¡ªwas finally spoken aloud. "I''m a person with the power to resist. Not a criminal. Not a murderer. Not a victim. Not anyone''s scapegoat. I''m me¡ªand as long as I have these eyes, hands, and legs, I''ll fight whatever nonsense I see."


    "You''re... you''re absolutely crazy."


    Another chuckle escaped Acacia, genuine amusement coloring his voice despite everything. "That''s a strange way to thank someone trying to save your life."


    "I guess it is." Slowly, painfully, the boy pushed himself to his feet. "...Y-you really think you can win against them?" he asked, wavering between hope and doubt, eyes searching Acacia''s face for any hint of uncertainty.


    "No."


    "Then what are you gonna do?"


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna fight.¡±


    On command, Acacia''s feet shifted against the pier, body settling into a stance that spoke of countless brawls and hard-learned lessons. The trio watched him with a mixture of disbelief and growing anger, their previous amusement curdling into something darker. Even now, their ringleader¡¯s face betrayed his calculations¡ªno flickers of prana, no telltale signs of any Integration Sequences. He truly was just another Irregular, then. One who needed to learn his place.


    "Hah, you''ve got some balls! You¡¯re frickin¡¯ dead!"


    <i>Not as stupid as he looks. He¡¯s already figured out I''m not bluffing about being an Irregular.</i>


    "I won''t deny that."


    "What?"


    "I won''t deny that I have balls."


    The trio snickered at the quip, but soon their laughs were replaced with shouts of anger when Acacia charged straight at them like a bullet train.


    "If you''re that scared of standing up to thugs like them," his words carried across the pier, meant not for his opponents but for the boy behind him, "when are you ever going to start living?!"


    <i>When¡­ will I start living?  </i>


    The question echoed in the other Irregular''s mind. He didn''t know the answer. But as he watched this strange¡ªpossibly insane¡ªboy charge headlong into impossible odds, something shifted in his chest. A crack appeared in walls built by fear and reinforced by resignation.


    <i>I don''t know when I''ll truly start living, but I don''t want to be pushed around anymore. I don''t want to live on my knees!</i>


    And so another act of resistance began, as the Irregular rose to join Acacia''s charge.

 Chapter 7 - Humanitys Fickleness (III)

    <h3 spellcheck="false" style="text-align: center"><b>[Volume 1 | Chapter 7: Humanity¡¯s Fickleness (III)]</b>


    Yeah, they got their asses kicked.


    The odds and laws of their world practically guaranteed it. But for this moment, on this rain-soaked pier under the vast night sky, two powerless boys chose to reject their assigned fate.


    "For a while there," the Irregular boy began. "I actually thought we had a chance."


    Acacia let out a chuckle.


    "You''ll get used to it. It''s like finding a caldera¡ªat first, you''re excited by the discovery, then reality reminds you it''s still burning hot." The metaphor earned him a blank stare. "Besides, they were so focused on beating us senseless that they completely forgot why they were chasing you in the first place."


    The boy¡¯s eyes widened like saucers.


    ¡°My money!¡± He checked his pockets; it was still there! ¡°Wait! You didn¡¯t plan for that to happen, right?¡±


    "Hard to predict stupidity, but sometimes you get lucky with your guesses." Acacia shrugged.


    Awkward laughter passed between them, genuine despite their battered state. They sat there on the beach, letting silence settle like a comfortable blanket before Acacia spoke again.


    "You know, I never actually told you my name. It''s Acacia. Just Acacia."


    "Isn''t that a girl''s name?" said the Irregular boy.


    "And aren''t you a smartass?" Acacia puffed out his chest in mock indignation, adopting an elderly woman''s wavering tone with his next words: "As your savior and senior, I humbly deserve your respect, young man!"


    The boy''s answering chortle turned into a wince as it aggravated his bruises. "Since when were you my senior? I''m a second-year, and for all I know, you could be a first-year. You certainly look like one."


    "Heh. Third-year.¡±


    ¡°Dammit!¡±


    ¡°Anyway, what¡¯s your name, <i>junior</i>?¡± Victoriously acknowledging his upper status to the boy, the underclassman snorted before replying.


    "Trifa. Trifa Siragusa."


    "Hm. Nice name." Acacia knew he shouldn''t smile¡ªknew he shouldn''t let warmth bloom in his chest at finding another Irregular to talk to. Tomorrow''s shadow loomed too large for such indulgences. And yet...


    "Wait, Trifa, what time is it?"


    "Um, judging by the moon, we''re getting close to midnight. Why are you¡ªw-wait, Acacia! Where are you going?"


    Guilt cascaded down Acacia''s features like winter rain. The cruel irony twisted in his gut: his first real friend since that day, and tomorrow he''d face the executioner. Everything he''d done today¡ªthe fight, the victory, this moment of connection¡ªwould crumble to nothing.


    He''d chosen this fate himself, hadn''t he?


    Instead of facing his problems, instead of standing against oppression with his head high, he''d sought the cold comfort of death''s embrace.


    But, there only existed one thing to do, to rectify his sin against humanity.


    ¡°Trifa, it¡¯s getting late. Head home.¡±


    It was time to face his burden straight ahead.


    <h3 style="text-align: center"><b>* * *</b>


    Pandora Kircheisen''s footsteps echoed through Ocarina''s bustling airport terminal, each click of her black boots against polished floors blending into the cacophony of voices, ringing phones, and travel''s distant hum. Her mind churned with conflicting emotions, duty, and desire locked in eternal combat.


    Today marked her time''s end here. She was expected to board a flight back to her base of operations, bidding farewell to a city she''d scrutinized for days. Not that she''d miss this port town, and especially not its spineless police force. They cared nothing for the ¡°heart¡± of the case, merely the results. In her mind, such people had no business carrying the law''s mantle.


    Yet deep within her chest, regret bloomed like a poisonous flower, knowing she would leave behind something crucial to her very being.


    The Case of Giovanni Copernicus Narma. Son of the family that had industrialized this port centuries ago, Giovanni was destined to be Ocarina¡¯s brightest star. An exceptional student and gifted Thaumaturge, blessed by the Centrum Supremum¡¯s¡ªthe central government¡¯s¡ªfavor


    On the surface, Gio seemed flawless.


    He was poised to become the first subject from Ocarina ever to enter the prestigious Vanguard University, nestled in Magnolia¡¯s metropolitan heart. His success would have brought enduring honor to his family name, securing their legacy and possible promotion from Lesser Nobility. Yet, without warning, that brilliant flame was extinguished, leaving only shadows of what could have been.


    Pandora had anticipated a morally bankrupt adolescent, the kind who¡¯d revel in snuffing out a rising star. But Acacia was different. He wore a silence, a lifelessness that hinted at something far deeper than guilt. None of it fit¡ªthose haunted eyes didn¡¯t belong to a cold, calculated killer. Every fiber of her intuition pointed to one undeniable truth: Acacia did not kill Giovanni Narma.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Intuition wasn''t evidence, however. His status as an Irregular made him the perfect scapegoat for authorities desperate to close the case. The House of Narma demanded someone to blame for their son''s death, and the local IPA were all too happy to oblige. Acacia made the perfect sacrifice to their altar of expediency.


    <i>This is why I hate the police: a pack of rats who wouldn¡¯t know justice even if it bit them. </i>Pandora silently grumbled as she made her way to her airport gate.


    As a member of the Centrum Supremum, she''d travel by private flight back home¡ªall she needed was to clear security and customs. She had already somewhat accepted Acacia''s fate if she was being honest with herself. This wasn''t her first dance with harsh conclusions, nor her first case where execution hung in the balance. People lived and died¡ªthat was life''s simple truth. And Acacia had chosen death over fighting for his life.


    <i>But maybe... just maybe¡ªno, what am I thinking? He''s probably sleeping soundly in his cell already¡ª </i>


    "Get back here, boy! You can''t be here without a verified flight ticket! That''s a fifty Stella Domina fine!" said a middle-aged security officer as he chased after a dark-haired teenager racing through the terminal.


    "Instead of laying it on me, old man, you should lay off the sourdoughs! Just get off my case already!" replied that teenager.


    Pandora''s attention snapped to the commotion. She recognized the boy instantly: Acacia? Here? How¡ª?


    Her wonderings shattered as she watched him weave past the officer''s taser like a matador, sending the man stumbling into a wall. A chuckle escaped her lips. She''d known he had courage somewhere beneath that resignation.


    A hand suddenly clasped her shoulder. She jerked away instinctively, hands flying into a defensive stance¡ªonly to find herself facing another elderly airport worker. He quickly tilted his head in confusion.


    "Um, miss, could you please stop scaring people with that weird pose? You''re frightening everyone."


    "Y-you saw that?" Heat rushed to Pandora''s face. She''d unconsciously pumped her fist in the air watching Acacia''s dodge like some sports fan cheering a perfect play.


    The man flashed an annoyed expression, muttering something along the lines of ¡°I don¡¯t get paid enough for this,¡± before going away. Immediately, she quickly recomposed herself, but before she could fully recover¡ª


    "M-Ms. Pandora, please wait!" Acacia called out, panting.


    She looked down at him, gold eyes narrowing. "What happened to you? Weren''t you supposed to stay in your cell until your execution?"


    "Yeah, well... they let me out for my last few days before the execution. I stayed in my cell the past two days, but today I decided to get some fresh air," Acacia explained between ragged breaths.


    "That explains nothing about your current state."


    "Well, I went out to explore the city, found a boy getting thrashed by some thugs. Stepped in to help, and¡ª" he grimaced, picking at the angry red welts decorating his arms, "learned a valuable lesson about blocking Air spells with bare hands."


    Pandora nodded slowly, almost like something was creaking in her head. "So, you wanted one last taste of freedom? I thought you¡¯d be sleeping your sorrows away.¡±


    "That¡¯s a cruel way of putting it¡­" A slight blush colored his cheeks as he turned away.


    "Well, what should I say? I saw you from the window¡ªsleeping like a corpse."


    "Can''t argue with that," he sighed. Then something shifted in his expression, determination replacing embarrassment. "But that''s not why I came here. There''s something I need to tell you."


    The Irregular balled his fists and bowed deeply.


    "I''m sorry, Ms. Pandora. I''m sorry for not understanding what you were trying to drill through my thick skull. These past few days¡ªno, for a long time, I''ve been drowning in doubt. I convinced myself there was no hope left, that death would be easier than living. But I was wrong."


    Acacia straightened, eyes blazing.


    "I won''t let them tear away my life! I didn''t kill Gio! Being an Irregular doesn''t make me their perfect scapegoat, someone already beaten down that they can bury even deeper. I refuse! I refuse to be controlled by bastards who abuse power just because they were born with it!" His roar carried across the terminal, drawing stares that he ignored completely.  "So I''ll fight! I''ll fight this execution! I''ll speak my truth! If they kill me for it, fine¡ªbut I won''t die tomorrow. I won''t die labeled a murderer! I won''t die a victim! I won''t die defeated! I refuse to die!"


    And so, silence fell like a heavy curtain.


    "A-Are you done?" Pandora asked awkwardly.


    "Er, yes. Thank you for listening," he mumbled, red creeping back into his cheeks.


    "You''re... welcome?"


    They exchanged glances, and suddenly, Pandora started laughing.


    "Why¡¯re you laughing?!" Acacia protested. "I''m trying to be serious here!"


    "S-sorry," Pandora managed between chuckles. "It''s just... so unexpected. You always looked like you were begging for death."


    "That''s probably because of how they planned to execute me. Didn''t exactly want to see crowds of people jeering ''OFF WITH HIS HEAD'' or whatever." He shuddered, suddenly looking younger and more vulnerable than she''d ever seen him.


    "You know what?"


    "What?"


    "I believe you."


    "...For real?"


    "I believe you didn''t kill Gio Narma." Pandora''s brow furrowed as she spoke. "My intuition led me there from the start. But intuition isn''t enough to judge a case fully. I needed concrete evidence, an irrefutable testimony. That''s why I pressed you so hard in interrogation. If belief alone could solve cases, we Inquisitors wouldn''t need to exist."


    <i>Obviously.</i>


    "But that doesn''t mean I can''t believe in the best possible outcome." Her smile, when it came, transformed her entire face. Beyond the cold exterior of a ruthless Inquisitor lay a woman dedicated to preserving true justice. That smile shone like a beacon through uncertainty''s shadows, carrying the gentle warmth of sunrise breaking through morning mist.


    The moment passed. Her expression returned to its usual steadfast determination as the crowd around them thinned. Now she could explain the full gravity of his situation as she scanned the area to notice any eavesdroppers before continuing.


    "To be blunt: you <i>really </i>screwed yourself with that act you put on a few days ago."


    "Tell me something I don''t know," Acacia muttered mirthlessly. "I''m facing execution tomorrow, and these cops are convinced I''m their killer."


    Pandora bit her lip at his defeated tone. "We''ll try appealing the execution date, gather more evidence. But it''ll take time. I can''t guarantee we can get it postponed."


    ¡°That won¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°And why is that?¡±


    ¡°I heard that Gio¡¯s mom and dad bribed two higher-up IPA officers to set the execution to tomorrow. That¡¯s what I heard while being transferred between cells among those two same people.¡± Acacia sighed in dismay. ¡°I know you¡¯re an Inquisitor and all, but unless you call on the Centrum Supremum directly or something, that probably won¡¯t be possible. The Narmas are the bosses here, and they make all of the rules.¡±


    ¡°Then!¡±


    Pandora inhaled and smirked. The window for a proper appeal had long since closed. Their only miracle would be the Narmas choosing to wait¡ªabout as likely as snow in summer. There was one solution left, but it was dangerous. It meant conflict with the ones in charge of the accursed city¡­ and meeting <i>that </i>man again. Her position as an Inquisitor would be at stake, shielding an Irregular from the Empire¡¯s blade.


    But if she could save an innocent boy from a meaningless death, then maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªshe could find lasting, <i>true </i>repentance.


    <i>Is this what you foresaw, Bismarck?</i>


    ¡°Acacia, you must vanish in the eyes of Ocarina.¡±

 Chapter 8 - Unseen Shadows

    <h3 spellcheck="false" style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 8: Unseen Shadows]


    One day before, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting its last fiery rays across the sprawling estate of the Narma Family. As dusk settled over Ocarina, the port city basking in the embrace of the Tachyon Empire, the Narma Family Estate stood as a testament to opulence and power. Nestled amid lush gardens and manicured lawns, the estate exuded an aura of aristocracy and control that stretched back centuries. At the heart of the estate, within the grand walls of their lavish mansion, Cagliostro Narma, the formidable patriarch, and Marcella Narma, his resolute wife, held court in the resplendent living room.


    Bathed in the soft glow of chandeliers, their faces etched with grief and vengeance, they commanded the room with an air of authority that only the privileged elite fully recognized as the founders of their residence could possess.


    Servants moved through the room like well-choreographed shadows, efficiency born from years of anticipating their masters'' whims. Young and old alike, they performed their duties with the silent grace of those who understood their role in this carefully ordered world. The power emanating from the Narma couple was almost tangible, their every word carrying weight that reached far beyond these gilded walls. For they were not merely nobles, but the true architects of Ocarina''s destiny¡ªpuppeteers who danced justice and order to their preferred tune.


    The Narma family''s influence ran as deep as the ocean beyond Ocarina''s shores, their tentacles of control wrapped firmly around the city''s police force, media outlets, and local governance. Their coffers overflowed with corruption''s spoils, their reach extending into every facet of society. They ruled not through merit but through the accident of birth, twisting law into whatever shape best served their interests. Justice, in their hands, became a cruel dance of privilege and power, punctuated by occasional moments of sheer boredom with their own dominance.


    Amid the living room''s opulent d¨¦cor, anticipation hung thick as incense. Cagliostro and Marcella contemplated tomorrow''s execution with barely contained satisfaction, savoring the thought of their son''s accused murderer facing public justice. Yet in the couple''s estimation, the Imperial Police Association moved with the speed of cooling honey. Cagliostro realized that perhaps his city''s law enforcement needed proper motivation¡ªa special incentive to ensure swift justice for his beloved Giovanni.


    And so¡­


    "Gambino Russo and Jonas Lucius, welcome to the Narma Estate."


    Cagliostro''s words carried his trademark smile, the one his daily visitors had learned to recognize. But while his lips curved upward, his eyes remained freezing-cold, harboring bloodlust that sent shivers down his guests'' spines. The two men from Ocarina''s IPA¡ªGambino, the Head Chief and lead investigator of Gio''s murder, alongside his right-hand man Jonas¡ªexchanged wary glances before taking their seats opposite the nobles. Between them stood an embroidered table bearing empty crystal and unopened wine, like a crystalline barrier between power and its servants.


    Gambino, his scarred face betraying him, swallowed hard enough for Marcella to note with quiet amusement. She watched him fidget, this man who had survived countless battles before donning a police uniform, now reduced to nervous gestures by mere presence. The atmosphere pressed down like a physical weight, tension thick enough to slice with a blade.


    Silence stretched until Marcella Narma deigned to break it.


    "Well, well, well. What have we here?" She slyly said, a soft smile playing across her features and auburn. She wore a dark purple dress with a striking golden corset wrapped tightly around her waist, its ostentatious nature complimenting her stately looks.


    "What do you mean, my dear Marcella? We have guests¡ªpoliteness demands we greet them properly," Cagliostro answered, his tone carrying careful measure.


    The matriarch scoffed in response.


    "Really?" Marcella tilted her head, feigning innocent concern. "Our dear Gambino seems rather... unsettled. And you, my husband, wear anxiety poorly. Has something occurred that I should know about?" A calculated smirk played at her lips. "Have we given offense somehow?"


    Gambino''s expression twisted as he processed her aggressive undertones.


    "Lord Cagliostro, forgive me, but have you not informed Madam Marcella that we continue investigating the young lord''s murder? This delicate matter requires thorough examination. I conveyed this earlier through our <i>Ley Line </i>communion¡ª"


    "No such communication occurred." Cagliostro''s interruption fell like a guillotine blade, his previous smile vanishing entirely.


    Jonas bit back the urge to shout ''liar'' at the nobleman, knowing such outburst would earn him swift cremation. The truth burned in his throat¡ªGambino had indeed established Ley Line contact, but Cagliostro chose to withhold this from his wife. It was a calculated move to frame their incompetence: if Gambino was gathering storm clouds, Marcella was an active volcano. News that they''d found a suspect but still gathered evidence would only trigger an eruption.


    After all, Cagliostro knew three true fears in life: his trade partners, the Emperor himself, and his beloved wife''s wrath.


    "My darling," Marcella''s voice softened, though her smile remained razor-sharp. "Such expressions ill suit you. Perhaps there was simply... miscommunication? <i>Ley Lines </i>can prove fickle when attention wavers."


    "I suppose." Cagliostro cleared his throat as a servant filled his wine glass. "Forgive my dismissiveness, Gambino. Our son''s passing weighs heavily. What progress does the investigation yield?"


    Gambino glanced at Jonas, who produced a thick folder from his coat. Taking the cue, the young man spread documents across the embroidered table.


    "If I may," Jonas began, careful to meet both nobles'' eyes. "We''ve identified our primary suspect: Acacia." He presented the boy''s detailed dossier, complete with status reports, known associations, and a photograph that seemed to stare back at them from the page.


    "A surname does not accompany this file?" Marcella''s questioned.


    "No, madam." Jonas maintained his professional demeanor despite mounting tension. "He bears no traceable lineage, noble or otherwise. No known blood relatives, parents, or siblings exist in our records. His past before arriving in Ocarina three years ago remains a blank slate. He survives on meager wages in tenement housing, though remarkably, he attends Heinemann Academy despite his circumstances."


    "Then he must possess considerable thaumaturgical talent to merit such placement."


    "Well..." Jonas glanced at his superior, wordlessly passing this particular burden.


    Gambino drew a steadying breath. "Acacia is classified as an Irregular."


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The words fell into silence deep as a drowning pool.


    "What did you say?" Cagliostro''s voice trembled with wrathful spleen.


    "The prime suspect in your son''s murder is an Irregular." Each word seemed to pain Gambino as he spoke it.


    "What nonsense do you speak?" Marcella''s voice took on an odd, probing quality. "You mean a lawbreaker? Someone mentally unstable or with prior heinous offenses?"


    "No, madam. We speak of those born without the ability to manipulate prana¡ªthose who differ fundamentally from¡ª"


    "Silence!"


    Marcella''s smile shattered. In its place bloomed an expression that transformed her refined features into something terrible¡ªdisgust and shock giving way to hatred''s pure flame. Her previous elegance crumbled, revealing something closer to primordial fury.


    "You dare suggest a cripple murdered <i>my </i>son?" Her voice rose to a shriek. "You present such obscenity as fact?" Gone was the sophisticated noblewoman, replaced by something raw and primal.


    "The evidence exists, madam!" Jonas lifted Acacia''s file, desperation edging his voice. "His registration clearly states¡ª"


    "Don¡¯t wave papers at me as if they matter!" Marcella''s fists clenched until knuckles went white. "This changes nothing! My son lies dead while this... this hermaphrodite draws breath! These vermin infest our city, these untalented, subhuman dregs who dare walk among their betters!"


    "You know, we could have him killed at a moment''s notice if we just wanted to. I''m certain we have more than enough of the underworld''s finest killers within our connections to dispose of this little brat and parade him to the public." Cagliostro suggested, slowly processing the information at hand.


    ¡°Please wait, Lord Cagliostro! This case is very important for the IPA! We¡¯re close to a breaking point in finding conclusive evidence that Acacia murdered Young Lord Giovanni; just bear with us! Please give us a few more days! It is the procedure that the IPA has acted according to for over centuries!¡± Gambino pleaded, hoping that the family could give them a chance for Ocarina¡¯s IPA to prove themselves in solving such an illustrious case.


    "Wait?!" Marcella''s laugh held no humor. "The evidence glares at us like a rotting horse under the son! My precious boy spent his final days celebrating his term''s end with his friends when that abomination struck him down in darkness! What more requires examination?"


    Her voice built like a gathering storm.


    "A mother''s love defies replacement. Perhaps as men you cannot grasp it¡ªnine months I carried him, bled for him, suffered for his entry into this world. Each day since, I cherished him. My pride, my joy, living proof of the Narma legacy."


    Bitter tears welled in her eyes, but rage burned them away before they could fall. "Every day, I witness mothers and children in the streets, blind to how precious their time together truly is¡ªuntil fate steals it away. Each hour you shelter that creature is another hour you mock my son''s memory! You become accomplices to his murder!" Her finger jabbed accusingly. "Shame taints your badges, your institution, your¡ª"


    "How dare you!" Gambino surged to his feet, fury overtaking caution.


    "Dare?" Marcella''s voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "I dare anything. You harbor my son''s killer behind laws and claim virtue in it!"


    "Enough."


    Cagliostro''s quiet command cut through the chaos. "My dear, your passion overwhelms reason."


    "No!" Marcella whirled on her husband. "How can you remain so cold? An Irregular murdered our son! Our angel, our future! The heir meant to elevate our family name! Now only emptiness awaits our legacy..." Her shoulders trembled as grief finally overtook rage.


    Cagliostro gathered her close, murmuring soothing nonsense until consciousness fled and she slumped against him.


    ¡°I have made my decision, Gambino.¡±


    His voice was iron, resolute, and steadfast in what he was going to say next.


    "What decision might that be?" The police chief''s words emerged cautious¡ªmeasured even.


    "500,000 Stella Domina. That sum transfers to your accounts by dawn, and in exchange, you execute the boy this Friday. Two days from now. No exceptions."


    "5-500,000?!" Jonas stammered.


    Gambino however, wasn¡¯t starstruck by the offer.


    ¡°What if I decline this offer, Lord Cagliostro?¡± he questioned. He knew that there were going to be thousands of strings attached, so it was better to know now.


    "Such is your right. However, should you fail to convict this Irregular swiftly, I shall simply contract another to complete the task. And should you accept payment only to falter¡­ I will assume theft and respond accordingly."


    "Yet the smartest action would be accepting your money while allowing your hired man to complete the deed. Surely you''ve considered this. What is truly going on?¡±


    The patriarch sighed.


    "The death of a son is a very emotional thing, and I empathize with my wife''s grief. But if there''s one thing I don''t have, it''s an abundance of frivolous emotions. I simply want to execute the Irregular brat who murdered my son in the quickest time possible. Marcella is a good woman, but her grief is too great, so I simply cannot trust her judgment."


    Cagliostro paused, allowing both Gambino and Jonas to digest this information.


    "However, the death of a child is a traumatizing event for most, and it is very likely that this event will cause many to go mad. I suppose you''re thinking: this isn¡¯t a rare occurrence in our Empire, isn''t it? So you are wondering what would drive me to such extremes to eliminate a low-life Irregular?" The patriarch sipped a glass of wine before continuing. ¡°The answer is elegantly simple. I have no use for incompetent leadership in my city''s police force. I am Ocarina''s true master, in both light and shadow. Remember your place in this hierarchy."


    Gambino blanched.


    "You would force my retirement through blackmail?"


    "If you prefer that interpretation."


    Gambino and Jonas exchanged glances heavy with understanding. No real choice existed here¡ªonly the illusion of one.


    "...I accept your generous terms," Gambino managed. "The Irregular shall meet his end on Friday."


    "You are a brave man, Gambino Russo, to face such a high price just for one person. That is the disposition of a man I want to be the head of my city¡¯s police force. Very well. You are dismissed. Take your subordinate and get out. You will receive the money through your bank account via an anonymous account by tomorrow morning.¡±


    The two men fled the premises. They knew that if they stayed any longer, the tension in the estate would have exploded into a torrential storm. Who knew when that woman would wake up again?


    Outside the grand mansion, darkness crept across the city, casting long shadows that stretched and merged with the secrets hidden within its walls. The Narma Estate stood as a fortress of privilege, a bastion of power where the weak were crushed and the powerful thrived.


    Cagliostro simply sighed as he carried his sleeping wife to their bedroom.


    ¡°Why did you have to get yourself killed?¡±


    Even the Narma patriarch was unsure of where those words were aimed at.


    <h3 style="text-align: center"><b>* * *</b>


    ¡°It¡¯s almost tomorrow, boss. Are you prepared?" Jonas lingered outside Gambino''s office door, the analog clock''s hands stretching toward the 11th hour at night.


    "Boss, are you in there?" Jonas called out to his superior, knocking on the door.


    "Just a moment," he answered, wiping some sweat from his brow as he took off his coat. He was planning to head home early tonight, but there were too many things that needed to be taken care of.


    "What is it, Jonas? What''s going on? I thought I said that we could do this tomorrow," asked Gambino, a frown plastered on his face.


    "I came to ask..." Jonas hesitated, carefully deliberating over words. "What if we''re wrong about tomorrow''s execution?"


    Gambino''s eyes narrowed as he rose from his desk. "Explain yourself."


    "Consider the possibilities, sir. What if we''ve condemned the wrong youth? Two similar boys, a case of mistaken identity? We rushed past DNA analysis and ignored standard procedure. What if someone employed Interference Thaumaturgy to frame him? What if Acacia was merely unconscious, placed beside Giovanni''s body to draw obvious conclusions? We abandoned proper investigation of thaumaturgical involvement. How can we execute someone when so many questions remain unanswered?!¡±


    Gambino pressed fingers against his temples, pain etching deeper lines in his scarred features.


    "I don''t want to hear any more of this, Jonas. Just stop right there. Tomorrow morning, the execution will happen and that''s that."


    "But¡ª"


    "I said enough!" Weariness tinged his shout. "The decision stands. We have 500,000 reasons to proceed, and that boy''s Irregular status marks him expendable. No family will mourn him, no lineage demands vengeance. He''ll vanish like morning mist, and normalcy will return to our city."


    Jonas scoffed.


    ¡°I thought the IPA was supposed to uphold justice, not bend for the qualms of the nobles. I honestly expected better out of you, <i>Gambino</i>.¡± Jonas addressed his superior in a tone that Gambino never thought he had the range to vocalize. ¡°That woman would have done the right thing.¡±


    "Never speak of her again." Prana leaked from Gambino''s rigid form, filling the air with lethal intent.


    Jonas lowered his head in resignation. His superior had chosen his path. Gambino stalked from the office toward home and whatever rest awaited him, though true peace would prove elusive.


    <i>Tomorrow, that Irregular will die, and everything will go back to normal.</i>

 Chapter 9 - Death & Rebirth

    <h3 spellcheck="false" style="text-align: center"><b>[Volume 1 | Chapter 9: Death & Rebirth]</b>


    <i>"Let it be known that it is the intrinsic burden of the mighty to dominate the mightless. Thus, it is also the burden of the mightless to submit to the mighty. This is the natural equilibrium of the world."</i>


    ¡ª Lex Imperium IV, Tachyonia Primaria


    The sun hung mercilessly high despite it being early morning, its incandescence casting judgment upon Ocarina''s streets. Where vibrant life once flowed through downtown''s arteries, an oppressive pallor now reigned. The air crackled¡ªa volatile mixture of anticipation, bloodlust, and twisted justice radiating from the colosseum that loomed at the city''s heart. Though its structure paled against its inspiration in San Corona''s royal capital, its presence commanded the same dread and reverence, its purpose unchanged:


    To execute violators of Tachyonia Primaria.


    A hushed silence settled over the gathering crowd, broken only by occasional murmurs and the restless shuffle of feet against marble. The spectators¡ªa sea of faces young and old¡ªdisplayed a disturbing eagerness, their eyes glinting with an almost insatiable thirst for retribution. The tragic loss of their young lord had swept them into a fever pitch of bloodlust.


    The nobles and Narma family relations occupied the coveted center seats, their elevated position a physical manifestation of status. Marcella Narma sat draped in mourning black, her eyes hollowed by endless nights of grief. Beside her, her husband Cagliostro''s face bore the etched lines of determination and vengeance befitting the patriarch of the Narmas.


    The colosseum stood as a grim architectural testament to their mood. Its rough-hewn stone walls bore witness marks from countless such spectacles of "justice." Banners bearing the Narma crest snapped in the wind, their vivid colors somehow stained by tragedy''s shadow.


    As minutes ticked past, the crowd''s restless energy coalesced into a chant that rose like a venomous tide.


    ¡°Down with the Irregular!¡±


    ¡°Curse the demon!¡±


    ¡°Spill his blood!¡±


    ¡°Make him suffer!¡±


    Each syllable punctuated their collective hatred for those deemed unworthy in the empire¡¯s rigid hierarchy. The chant served as a reminder of the power wielded by the privileged few who could harness Thaumaturgy''s forces.


    At the heart of the colosseum, a grand stage had been set. A large, embroidered silver cross, its intricate design illuminated by a pulsating surge of prana, dominated the cobblestone ground. The ethereal glow emanating from the symbol seemed to possess a life of its own, casting shadows upon the faces of both the condemned and the accusers.


    As execution''s moment drew near, tension crystallized in the air until it became almost tangible. Each heartbeat seemed to echo, each breath drawn in desperate anticipation. They stood upon a precipice where justice''s true nature would be tested, where reality''s comfortable veil would be torn away, and shadows'' secrets would finally emerge into cruel daylight.


    The crowd''s bloodlust grew wilder, chants merging into a symphony of hatred. To them, Giovanni Narma had been Ocarina''s budding heart¡ªto kill something yet to reach full bloom was a transgression against not just humanity, but against their city''s very pride.


    Head Chief Gambino Russo of Ocarina''s IPA strode to center stage, assuming the executioner''s mantle. His subordinate Jonas Lucius followed, clutching papers that would serve as the condemned final confession.


    "Rejoice, subjects of Ocarina! Today, your desires shall be answered! Today, your wishes granted! Today, justice will be dealt in this colosseum our founders built for this sacred purpose!"


    He motioned guards to their positions around the cross as the crowd devoured his words, drunk on promised vengeance. Their voices merged into a mad chorus.


    "Demon!"


    "Murderer!"


    "Slash him!"


    "Hear me, my people!" Gambino raised his arms skyward, hands clenched and teeth bared. "Today, evil shall be purged! Today, your beloved star''s murderer faces justice! This very day, you taste sweet revenge!"


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    The crowd''s answering roar shook the marble.


    "Down with the Irregular!"


    "Curse the demon!"


    "Spill his blood!"


    "Make him suffer!"


    Their vicious thirst for vengeance had taken root. There would be no turning back. This was the way of things. This was how it had always been.


    "For the Second Degree Murder of Giovanni Copernicus Narma, I bring you the prime suspect, deemed guilty under the eyes of Tachyonia Primaria."


    From the colosseum''s darkest depths emerged a lone figure, his silhouette made ominous by crimson light. Pale skin gleamed like porcelain against the prisoner''s gray garb, brilliant sapphire eyes stark in a face still bearing childhood''s softness. Dark hair stirred in a gentle breeze that seemed to mock the moment''s gravity. A hush fell upon the assembly as the accused was led to his seat atop the cross, escorted by guards whose grip spoke more of ceremony than necessity. Heavy chains chafed his wrists as he faced the sea of expectant faces, his usual nonchalance tested by the false accusation''s weight. His eyes, devoid of emotion, swept across the crowd gathered to witness his fall. And so, the accused stood at the cross, his hands tied behind his back and his eyes set forward.


    "The guilty shall be scourged by Arx Ignea¡ªimmortal Regalia of Lord Giorno Copernicus Narma!" Gambino''s proclamation rang out as air molecules around the cross began to heat. "As Ocarina''s founder, his Arx Ignea still burns with righteous retribution''s flames. It shall burn not only in lamentation for his fallen descendant, but to purge evil from the world itself! Only then will justice be served!"


    The air around the cross shimmered, death''s visage cloaking silver embroidery in fire''s promise.


    "Spill his blood!"


    "Make him suffer!"


    "Demon!"


    "Slay him!"


    Gambino''s gaze lifted to where Cagliostro sat with his wife in the nobles'' section. The patriarch rose, cold calculation evident in every line of his face. His hand descended in a single swift motion.


    No pardon would come.


    Under the audience''s deafening bloodlust, the guards yanked the boy against the cross that blazed indignantly. Arx Ignea demanded a sinner''s soul.


    The crowd''s frenzy reached new heights as they realized vindication''s moment had arrived. Their faces twisted in savage ecstasy, more beast than human. The very air trembled beneath emotion''s assault as they jeered for the Irregular¡¯s death once again, only silenced by Gambino¡¯s booming voice.


    "Let it be known that it is the intrinsic burden of the mighty to dominate the mightless.¡±


    The guards holstered the boy onto the cross.


    "Thus, it is also the burden of the mightless to submit to the mighty."


    Though chains bound him past movement, Acacia''s eyes swept the crowd one final time. They howled profanities and clawed air like participants in some primitive ritual. The sight filled him with a distant sort of dread¡ªof humanity''s capacity for madness. Another sharp tug on his chains lifted him skyward, suspended like a puppet awaiting its final performance. His heart hammered against his ribs.


    They stripped him of everything¡ªdignity, freedom, and soon, life.


    "This is the natural equilibrium of the world."


    Arx Ignea¡ªthe fiery citadel¡ªroared to life, consuming Acacia in hellfire.


    A maelstrom of emotion coursed through his veins: regret, sorrow, guilt, pain, fear, despair... all intermingling until individual feelings lost meaning, leaving him stupefied in shock''s embrace. He couldn''t scream¡ªno, he wouldn''t scream. No one remained to hear him. No one lived who would care.


    All that existed was Arx Ignea, justice''s inferno.


    It would consume him wholly, burn away his humanity until nothing remained but a husk filled with hatred and vindication.


    But he refused to die.


    <i>¡°If for even an ephemeral moment, can you break this cycle?¡±</i>


    Within the audience''s rapturous cheers, Cagliostro Narma''s smile spread ear to ear, yet his eyes registered something that chilled his blood.


    Why did the boy wear his exact same smile?


    "[Mutare.]"


    The words were but a whisper, yet silver liquid poured around the boy''s body like divine ichor. It congealed and swirled around him, eventually coating his entire form. The metallic essence seemed to awaken, responding to unseen commands. It surged from Acacia''s burning frame in a torrential cascade. Arx Ignea''s flames vanished, replaced by a violently twisting silver barrier that enveloped the cross. None could see through its metallic sheen¡ªit shielded Acacia from the fate they''d chosen for him.


    But this was no divine intervention.


    It was mercury.


    "M-Mercutio?! How dare you! You wish to defend this Irregular?!" Gambino roared, his voice almost lost amid the crowd''s chaos and the swirling mercury barrier.


    Jonas''s expression crumbled as realization struck.


    "Mercutio... the Lord of Mercury? We stand no chance if she''s involved!"


    <i>¡°Lord Cagliostro, we must halt the execution!</i>¡± Gambino''s desperate thoughts reached through their [Ley Line] connection. ¡°<i>This is beyond our jurisdiction now!¡±</i>


    <i>¡°You are officers of Ocarina. Why do you falter? Do you wish to defy me?</i>¡± Cagliostro''s mental response came cold and calculating, still unmoved from the nobles'' seats.


    <i>¡°But Mercutio aids the Irregular!¡±</i>


    <i>	</i><i>¡°Indeed, I have eyes.¡±</i>


    <i>	</i><i>¡°Then you must understand how dangerous this situation is!¡±</i>


    <i>¡°Then you also understand your duty. Overcome your fear and face them, or forfeit your position permanently.</i>¡±


    Cagliostro dismissed the link, and thus, Gambino was left to his own devices.


    <i>I¡­I¡­</i>


    Paralysis seized Gambino''s mind and body. The legendary Mercutio who had decimated whole battalions in World War III¡­ he was ordered to fight her?


    <i>I must do this. One step. One meter. One strike. Please move! The Irregular is the target, not Mercutio¡­</i>


    The crowd''s bloodthirsty chants reached fever pitch.


    "Make him suffer!"


    "Death to the demon!"


    "Let justice be done!"


    <i>I¡¯ll kill him!</i>


    At that moment, Gambino¡¯s eyes flared. But just as he resolved himself to extinguish Acacia, the bulwark of mercury vanished, and the boy was nowhere to be seen.

 Chapter 10 - Death & Rebirth (II)

    <h3 style="text-align: center" spellcheck="false">[Volume 1 | Chapter 10: Death & Rebirth (II)]


    "Mercutio, High Inquisitor, Lord of Mercury¡ªtell me, does collecting titles help you sleep at night?"


    "Just shut up and follow me."


    Above the chaotic colosseum stood a boy and a woman overlooking the scene. Acacia''s vision blurred in and out, his mind drifting between states of consciousness. Only adrenaline coursing through his veins like liquid lightning kept him aware enough to witness the mayhem below. Through hazy sight, he could barely make out the execution site''s growing pandemonium.


    "Your strategy worked. For a seemingly normal kid, you''re quite the schemer," Pandora noted, her usual coldness tinged with something almost like respect.


    "It wasn''t that complex. When you told me you could fully control mercury, I figured leaving traces on my body before the execution would be the perfect escape route." Acacia sweatdropped, absently rubbing his fingers where Arx Ignea had nearly claimed them. "Though the flames came way too close for comfort."


    ¡°I told you that my ability works in commands. I don¡¯t need to vocalize it. Though, you may have just helped me in more ways than you realize¡­¡± She smirked in approval.


    The implication went over Acacia¡¯s head.


    "It was¡­ surreal having that kind of power flow through me, even for a second. I guess I''m not used to anything resembling Thaumaturgy." He calmly reflected before thanking her once again. "Oh, and thanks for setting up that hidden passage under the stage¡ªeven if the sewers smells like hot dying rats."


    Pandora didn¡¯t respond. The two strode down the hill, leaving chaos in their wake.


    "I''ll be blunt¡ªyou can''t stay in this city anymore." Once they''d reached a safer distance, the darker-skinned woman''s voice turned to steel. "That manipulative cur Cagliostro and his psychotic wife will hunt you relentlessly, even if proof of your innocence appears. This spectacle has drawn too much attention. If Gambino or Jonas connect me to the name Pandora, everything unravels."


    "I wasn''t going to stay here anyway, even if I had the chance to fake my identity."


    "Seriously? You''ve lived here for years, and you don¡¯t even the slightest attachment to Ocarina?"


    "A hellhole that praises a crappy family like they''re gods and treats people without Thaumaturgy like garbage? I''ll pass." Acacia''s voice turned as sharp as broken glass. "Every day was dying in slow motion. Working a worthless job, studying endless hours for some prissy academy, living off instant noodles in a crumbling tenement¡ªand for what? To get accused of something I didn¡¯t even do?


    For the first time since that day, something like true anger blazed behind his eyes, a fire threatening to reduce Ocarina to ash.


    "I''ve always hated this city. Every single day felt like wasted breath. I could barely force myself to eat, let alone study. I was nothing but a cold, empty shell playing at being human. I hated it so much that death started looking like a mercy." The words spilled from him like poison finally drawn from a wound.


    "I don¡¯t think that¡¯s entirely right." Pandora saw through him. "You don''t just hate this city; you also hate yourself."


    His silence spoke volumes.


    "You still feel the same way, don''t you?"


    "...What do you mean?"


    "You feel the same. You''re just thinking about a different place. Maybe it''s not Ocarina you truly hate. Maybe it''s something else entirely.¡±


    ¡°...You tell funny stories, Pandora.¡±


    ¡°What happened to Ms. Pandora?¡±


    "You don''t look old enough to be an Inquisitor."


    "Ah, I''ll take that as a compliment." Pandora''s lips quirked slightly upward, a ghost of pride crossing her features.


    ¡°You look old enough to be my grandmother.¡±


    Silver liquid erupted from beneath Acacia''s feet, cocooning him in a metallic embrace before he could blink.


    "Wait, wait, timeout! That was just a joke about your hair, I swear!" Acacia''s nervous laughter echoed from within his mercury prison.


    "You barely escaped execution and you''re already courting death again? You¡¯re so annoying." Pandora sighed as she dispersed the mercury cage, continuing forward while Acacia scrambled to catch up.


    "So, where are we going, Pandora?"


    "Somewhere far from this place. You''re an Irregular, and we want to ensure that you won¡¯t die after I busted my ass off to save yours."


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "At least give me some options¡­" Acacia''s mind raced through possibilities. Whether to pursue academics and find respectable work, or vanish into some rural backwater to farm the land¡ªlife stretched before him like an endless sea now that his prison bars had shattered.


    "I have an option. But before I explain, there''s been someone following our steps for the past few minutes." Her intangible prana expanded through the field like a smothering blanket, projecting killing intent toward every living being within range¡ªsave Acacia. "Come out now or I''m killing you."


    They stood near an abandoned well in a darkened section of the outskirts where no soul dared tread. A blond boy, shorter than Acacia but close in age, burst from the bushes and fell to his knees, terror written across his features.


    ¡°P-Please! I mean no harm, lady! I was just on the top part of the stage, and I saw you guys walking away! I don¡¯t want to rat you guys out!¡± Tears welled up in the boy¡¯s eyes, clearly appearing as though he was about to wet himself.


    Pandora raised her hand, forming a finger gun. Water molecules condensed from the atmosphere, forming a razor-sharp dot that hummed with concentrated pressure at the tip of her finger¡ªenough to slice cleanly through flesh and bone.


    "P-P-Please, mercy!"


    "Pandora, stop. I know him." At Acacia''s words, the water dispersed into harmless vapor. "Trifa, you can''t be here. If they discover you talking to a criminal and his accomplice, they''ll kill you without hesitation. Especially since you''re an Irregular too¡ªthey''ll assume you''re part of some conspiracy with inside knowledge about Ocarina."


    Trifa''s terror melted into pained understanding as he wiped his eyes and straightened his shirt, gazing at his friend with raw emotion.


    "I know. I just...I had to see you one last time before you disappeared."


    The blond¡ªTrifa¡ªlunged forward, wrapping Acacia in a desperate embrace. The gesture felt alien to him; no one had ever shown such raw affection since that. Yet, he didn''t pull away for some reason alien to him.


    "I was terrified when everyone started talking about executing an Irregular! A-And then when I s-saw you up there, I thought¡ª" Trifa''s words dissolved into sobs, dampening Acacia''s garb with tears and inelegant snot.


    Pandora watched expressionlessly, though something flickered behind her golden eyes, a smile she refused to acknowledge.


    Acacia patted Trifa on the head and gently pushed him away, placing his hand on his shoulder.


    "I''ll miss you, Acacia. Even if it wasn''t long¡ª"


    "I know." The words came soft but firm. "I''m sorry we couldn''t have more time, but I have to go." A small, genuine smile graced his features¡ªa rare sight in Ocarina''s shadows. "You were my first friend here. I''ll always carry that."


    Trifa''s face fell like a stone into still water, eyes fixed on the ground between them.


    "Hey, come on! I''m heading somewhere safer. Don''t look at me like that."


    The boy''s gaze lifted slowly, confusion mixing with desperate hope.


    "Sa-safer?"


    "Yeah, probably.¡±


    "I didn¡¯t promise that," Pandora muttered, cleaning imaginary dirt from her ear.


    "I trust her judgment though." Acacia continued, undeterred. "Besides, this doesn''t have to be our final goodbye. Maybe we''ll cross paths in the capital someday. My village had an old saying:


    ¡¯ If we meet again, it will be under the sun.


    If we don''t meet again, then the stars will align for us to meet again.¡¯


    I''m not vanishing just because I''ll live elsewhere. In fact..." He extended his hand toward Trifa, confidence gleaming in his eyes, "I''ll be the first Irregular to attend Vanguard University. You''ll see it in the headlines¡ªyour super handsome and suave upperclassman breaking history! It''ll inspire you to enroll too."


    Trifa snorted wetly at that, but clasped Acacia''s hand. Even through fresh tears, hope shone in his expression.


    "Then I''ll be the second one. May the stars align, upperclassman."


    Pandora sighed, striding forward to drag Acacia away by his prisoner''s collar. "It''s getting late, kid. Your family will worry if you don''t head back soon," she addressed Trifa. Acacia nodded silently in agreement. Trifa lingered a moment longer, looking like he might rush in for one final embrace, but forced himself to turn away. They watched him disappear behind a building, his final wave and shouted farewell echoing in the evening air. Acacia returned the gesture with a small smile that faded as Trifa vanished from view.


    "I''m not gonna be in Ocarina anymore, huh..." Acacia¡¯s face turned solemn as he stared at the ground, the reality of exile finally sinking in.


    "I''m sorry? You¡¯re already feeling nostalgic?" Pandora shot him a sharp sidelong glance.


    "Ah, nothing. Just thinking out loud. So about my options?"


    ¡°Option.¡±


    ¡°Come on¡­ there has to be more than one option¡­¡± Acacia¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    "Fine! Three options!¡± She huffed. ¡°Option 1: Live as a farmer and start a family with someone."


    "Boring, and highly unrealistic in this day and age."


    "The only unrealistic part is finding a girl who''d ever want to start a family with a midget like you, and why are you questioning me when you wanted multiple options in the first place?!"


    ¡°I-I¡¯m average height for a fifteen-year-old boy, you shortphobe!¡±


    "I''ll leave that up to your imagination." She smacked him upside the head like a petulant child before continuing.


    "Option 2: Continue your studies in a less status-focused city. You''ll want somewhere that doesn''t revolve around Thaumaturgy. Try the borders near the Wallachian Empire to the north, the Hausa Empire to the south, or the lawless Desperado to the east."


    ¡°...What about the Sugoroku Empire?¡±


    "You''d have to cross Desperado first, and even if you manage that, the Great Cascade separates us from Sugoroku. Thank the Lord for that¡ªwe just finished a war with them," a shudder ran through her frame. "But basically, look for trading cities. Commerce doesn''t care if you can cast spells, most of the time."


    ¡°What about option 3?¡±


    "...Oh, those weren''t real options."


    Pandora''s smile held the satisfaction of a cat that had thoroughly toyed with its prey. "I just thought you''d feel better thinking you had a choice."


    "Wait, what¡ª"


    She seized a fistful of his collar, yanking him close enough that he could see flecks of gold dancing in her eyes.


    "You''re coming with me."


    "...I don''t get a say in this?"


    "You lost that privilege when you made that grandmother comment. Besides, you trust my judgment, remember?"


    "That was before you started manhandling me!" But despite his protests, something in his chest lightened. Perhaps it was the way she''d stated it as fact, brooking no argument. Or maybe it was how she''d dropped her usual calculating demeanor for something almost... playful.


    "Consider this payment for all the gray hairs you''ve given me today." Pandora dragged him forward by his collar like a misbehaving kitten.


    "Your hair was already silver!"


    Mercury erupted from the ground, wrapping around his legs.


    "Wait, wait! I take it back!"


    "Too late. You''re stuck with me now. Try not to be too annoying about it."


    And so Acacia left Ocarina¡ªnot by choice, as he''d imagined, but dragged toward an unknown future by a mercurial woman who seemed to find delight in his suffering. Yet somehow, watching the city''s lights fade behind them, he felt lighter than he had in years.


    Even if he still didn''t know where the hell they were going.

 Chapter 11 - Murk

    <h2 style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 11: Murk]</h2>


    Tachyon Bullet Trains¡ªcolloquially known as Elysiums¡ªwere renowned for their high speed and efficiency. With a rate of acceleration of 150 km/h to 320km/h, they were one of the fastest ways of traveling around the Tachyon Empire, allowing civilians to cover long distances in a matter of hours rather than days.


    The cutting-edge technology of the Empire helped bridge the gap between a civilian and a studied Thaumaturge in day-to-day life. While most civilians could never hope to cast massive fireballs or tornadoes without years of studying, training, and a pinch of talent, it was possible to live an ordinary life as long as one had some amount of thaumaturgical capabilities. The Tachyon Empire¡¯s technology made sure of that.


    But for Centrum Supremum personnel, the Elysiums were not only an efficient method of transport but also a weapon in their own right. For instance, with its speed and acceleration, a single train could be sent from San Corona, the Royal Capital and capital of the Pendragon province, to Nova Roma¡ªcapital of the western province of Hyperion in just over 5 hours. However, even the most efficient bullet train couldn''t completely surpass the limits of physics and time. It could travel at a certain maximum speed, but it couldn''t go any faster than that. The same was true for aircraft and automobiles. The only benefits they served in the Tachyon Empire were to increase the efficiency of subject life and to travel across long distances without the use of Thaumaturgy.


    Pendragon, Orion, Vesperia, Solaria, Fiora, and Hyperion, the Elysium could travel to any of the Empire¡¯s six provinces at a reasonable time.


    But when compared to the Miracle Art, they would never ever be able to reach its peak power or speed.


    "Pandora, please explain to me again why we have to go on this godforsaken train." Acacia moaned and groaned as the two of them boarded the Elysium, with Pandora grabbing their tickets for the ride. To hide his prisoner rags from the public, he wore a blue collar uniform. He still looked like a bum, but it was better than looking like a criminal.


    ¡°Believe me, I don¡¯t want to use this either, but walking to our destination would take weeks. You can¡¯t use Thaumaturgy, and I really doubt that you have the stamina and speed to keep up with me when I use [Flux]. This is the best way to get there when considering your abilities. It¡¯ll only take a few hours, and I bought the deluxe tickets, so just shut up and enjoy the ride.¡± Pandora placed her hands on her hips as she stared at Acacia, her usual cold stare softened by a smidge of annoyance.


    Oh, that¡¯s right. As an Inquisitor, she¡¯s probably filthy rich and used to delicacies like this. She can¡¯t possibly understand how time-consuming this could be. Acacia pondered for an instant before sucking up his ardent displeasure.


    As Acacia and Pandora stepped onto the sleek, silver-bodied bullet train, they were immediately enveloped by an atmosphere of futuristic grandeur. The interior of the Elysium exuded a sense of refined elegance, seamlessly blending cutting-edge technology with luxurious comfort. Soothing lights adorned the spacious cabin, casting a warm glow that danced across the polished surfaces. The walls, adorned with intricate patterns, flowed with dynamic electricity.


    The seating arrangements of the deluxe section were a testament to ergonomic design and opulence. Plush, leather seats beckoned passengers to sink into their sumptuous embrace, offering unparalleled comfort during the journey. Each space was equipped with personal control panels, allowing travelers to adjust their position, ambient lighting, and temperature to their liking. The advanced technology seamlessly catered to individual preferences, ensuring a bespoke travel experience.


    The windows, made of advanced transparent alloys, provided a breathtaking panorama of the passing landscape. As the Elysium gathered momentum, the outside world blurred into streaks of vibrant colors, creating an illusion of soaring through a vivid dreamscape. The view was a mesmerizing fusion of nature and technology, as rolling hills, lush forests, and bustling cities whizzed by in a blur.


    He marveled at the efficiency of the onboard service. A team of impeccably dressed attendants glided through the aisles, offering an array of delectable refreshments and culinary delights. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, tea, and delicate pastries permeated the air, tantalizing the senses and adding to the overall sensory experience.


    Overhead, an integrated audio system filled the carriage with a soothing symphony, blending classical melodies with undertones of Western harmonies. The music served as a reminder of the Tachyon Empire''s reverence for the arts and the profound connection between culture and advancement.


    As the Elysium surged forward with effortless grace and velocity, Acacia couldn''t help but feel a mix of awe and trepidation. The train represented the pinnacle of human ingenuity and progress, propelling them swiftly through the vast expanse of the empire. The seamless fusion of technology and Thaumaturgy within the bullet train mirrored the intricate tapestry of their world¡ªa world where scientific advancements and mysticism coexisted in perfect symmetry.


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    ¡°I feel a little out of place here¡­¡± Acacia¡¯s mood turned dour, knowing wholeheartedly that an Irregular had no business being in this area¡ªprisoner or not.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it. Ocarina is deep in the southwest of the Empire, close to a few island territories that we got from Hausa. Where we¡¯re going is to the east coast. It¡¯s going to take a while even with the Elysium¡¯s speed.¡± Pandora replied as she leaned into her seat across from Acacia, allowing her to relax for a few hours. Plotting for a whole night and saving a boy from execution would do that to a young woman, even if she was an Inquisitor.


    Acacia let out a sigh. He tried to find his own spot to sit, but it was all too comfortable. He would probably fall asleep in a matter of seconds if he decided to try to relax. Relenting, he decided to sit across from Pandora, a portable table being the distance dividing them.


    "Are there any more places like Ocarina?"


    "If you mean how the society is structured, then yes. There are cities and places with lower levels of technology than the capitals and the areas surrounding them, but they''re not all that far apart in their system of society. The farther you are from the capitals¡¯ spheres of influence, the less Thaumaturgy you will be taught, since it''s the easiest way to identify someone as a Thaumaturge. However, the societal structure stays the same. The better of a Thaumaturge you are, the more status, respect, and influence you will gain. This is why certain cities are run by noble families behind the scenes, taking advantage of cities with less talented individuals to remain in power. Ocarina is simply an example of one of those many cities.¡±


    Acacia merely nodded. He didn''t even know why he asked a question like that in the first place, especially in the middle of a train ride. Perhaps he was trying to get a sense of the Tachyon Empire, or maybe he was simply looking for a distraction to keep his mind off of the fact that he was going to leave Ocarina for the rest of his life. It wasn¡¯t like he would encounter situations like these anymore, as long as he kept his head down.


    "So what''s the name of the city we''re going to? Is it Magnolia?"


    "No. As I said before, Magnolia is the metropolitan capital. I used to live there when I worked for the military, but now that I have pivoted to the Divine Court, my area of operations is up north.¡±


    ¡°So, the name?¡±


    ¡°Windsor.¡±


    At that name, Acacia¡¯s dour expression immediately brightened.


    "Oh, I''ve always wanted to go to that city! It''s one of the top ten tourist spots in the Empire! It¡¯s in Orion up north, right?!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, The City of Windmills attracts many people. It has the largest number of wind turbines per square kilometer ratio in the Empire with beautiful gardens and valleys as a backdrop. The energy generated by these turbines weekly can power all cities within a thirty-kilometer radius of it, ten times over.¡± Pandora explained with a wry chuckle, seeing as every fact she gave made Acacia¡¯s face drop with fervent awe.


    ¡°T-that''s amazing,¡± the fanboy in Acacia couldn¡¯t help but stutter. ¡°I guess Windsor doesn¡¯t have a big university or anything right?¡±


    Pandora nodded, leaning back into her seat and stretching. She crossed her legs and intertwined her hands behind her head, getting a glimpse of Acacia in the corner of her eye. She took this time to grab an idle newspaper on the paper as she flipped around it.


    ¡°Windsor focuses on technological development and management rather than the pursuit of Thaumaturgy. While Thaumaturgy is taught, well-researched, and a big part of its culture, its focus on civilian and everyday science has inadvertently caused Windsor to be one of the lesser prejudiced cities. This is especially impressive considering that it ranks twelfth on the ¡®Top 20 Most Renowned Cities of Tachyon.¡¯¡± Pandora smirked as the San Corona Daily Times newspaper she held had an article just on that topic. ¡°Because of that, Windsor has rather general schools with Thaumaturgy being a backdrop rather than a focus. None of them come close to the prestige of Vanguard University though, and others of the like.¡±


    Acacia bobbed his head, taking a look at the city map that was embedded on the table. Electronically powered, it displayed a close-up overhead visual of their current position. The map was constantly updated to give the appearance that it was moving with respect to the train. With a module on the right, it revealed that there were still about 4 hours and 45 minutes left before their destination would arrive.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that face. You probably haven¡¯t eaten since yesterday morning. I don¡¯t want you to die of starvation. Refreshments will come every half an hour. Just be patient and¡ªI dunno¡ªwatch the scenery. This is your first time traveling.¡±


    Acacia grunted, not having the energy to retort back. He looked at the window, taking in the view of the land he would be leaving forever. Ocarina was a mere port city in the southwest province of Fiora, dominated by nobility and corruption with little way of getting out. His shackles had been set free, and now it was up to his brain to register such.


    ¡°We also need to get you a surname. But, don¡¯t fret. I already have one figured out. You¡¯ll be taking this one.¡± Pandora said as if it was just a fact of the world. She proceeded to slide him a file that held his new full name.


    ¡°I see.¡± Acacia blinked.


    The Elysium passed by a vast mountain range.


    ¡°I guess Belmont has a good ring to it.¡±

 Chapter 12 - Murk (II)

    <h2 style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 12: Murk (II)]</h2>


    Gambino Russo has had far better days.


    Tension sullied the air inside the grand living room of the Narma estate. Cagliostro Narma, the formidable patriarch of the family, sat upon an ornate throne-like chair. His piercing gaze surveyed the room. Marcella Narma, adorned in elegant attire, stood by his side, her countenance reflecting rancorous rage.


    Servants scurried about, their faces once placid, etched with trepidation, carrying trays of untouched refreshments. The atmosphere was palpable, charged with anticipation for the news that would soon reach them. The House of Narma had pulled strings, orchestrated bribes, and manipulated the system to ensure that justice would be served swiftly for their fallen son, Giovanni Narma. But the escape of Acacia had shattered their carefully crafted illusion of control.


    As the city teetered on the edge of pandemonium, Gambino found himself in the crosshairs of the Narma family¡¯s wrath. His failure to execute Acacia, the escapee, threatened to expose the cracks in the carefully constructed facade of Ocarina''s justice system. The Narma family¡¯s influence had been temporarily compromised, and their thirst for retribution only intensified.


    In the living room, the clenching of Cagliostro''s fist shattered the silence, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain his fury. Marcella''s eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of determination and vindictiveness as she exchanged a knowing glance with her husband. The time for leniency had passed. The Narma Family would not rest until their vengeance was exacted, and the city quivered in submission.


    ¡°Lord Cagliostro and Madam Marcella, I have come to your behest as soon as I heard your summons!¡± Gambino hastily spoke as he entered the living room along with his subordinate Jonas, both bearing labored breaths.


    The two stood at the edge of the living room, a few feet away from Cagliostro and Marcella, who stood before their throne-like chairs. The former stared at them with an unsettling smile, while the latter¡¯s expression burned with ire.


    ¡°Why so anxious, Gambino? Sit down. You too Jonas. Please sit down as well. I have come to deliver good news.¡±


    ¡°...Good news?¡± The IPA¡¯s Head Chief uttered in confusion. ¡°Wait, no! I have come for repentance! Please find it in your gracious and magnanimous hearts to forgive me and my incompetence! I wasn¡¯t able to capture the Irregular! I failed in front of the whole city!¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Then, how can this possibly be good news? You said that if I failed, you would blackmail and strip me of my position! So once again, I beg for your forgiveness! I beg you to spare me! Please, this is the only thing I have!¡±


    ¡°Gambino Russo, you are not letting me finish.¡±


    Gambino looked up. Marcella gazed at him with utter disgust, but Cagliostro¡¯s countenance remained the same.


    Unchanging. Unfeeling. Resolute.


    Yes, it was most accurate to say that his smile remained resolute.


    ¡°The circumstances have changed. I never expected that Mercutio would aid an Irregular brat in escaping his rightful death. It is foolish to expect the IPA to deal with an opposition such as her.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡ª¡±


    ¡°I am talking about High Inquisitor Pandora Kircheisen. She is Mercutio.¡±


    Gambino, stunned, sat down next to Jonas, whose face also displayed pure shock. Everything connected if that was the case. Pandora¡¯s preservation of the truth, her disrespect for everything the IPA stood for, her insistence on wanting to see Acacia¡­ everything made sense now. Her appearance even somewhat matched with what Mercutio was described as: silver hair and an exotic complexion.


    "Then High Inquisitor Kircheisen¡­ is one of the most powerful Thaumaturges in the Empire." Gambino could barely contain his surprise.


    "Indeed. Mercutio is a powerful Thaumaturge and one of the most elite soldiers the Empire has ever crafted. As a major factor in helping us stalemate the Sugoroku Empire, it seems as though she pivoted careers to become a High Inquisitor of the Divine Court. She has never failed a case, which is typically unheard of even for the most experienced of them. To put it simply: this is a person who is too powerful for the IPA to deal with."


    Gambino¡¯s blood ran cold.


    How does he know all of this? Did he plan for me to fail? No! That doesn¡¯t make any sense! He wouldn¡¯t have paid me all of that money and threatened to blackmail me if he already knew about how strong the woman was! This whole situation doesn¡¯t make any sense!


    ¡°You¡¯re making such a scary face, Gambino. Are you dissatisfied, confused, perhaps angry, hmm?¡± Marcella goaded the man, seeing through his discombobulated thoughts with a devilish smirk.


    "My sincerest apologies, Lord Cagliostro and Madam Marcella. I did not mean to display such disrespect towards you all or the name of the House of Narma. I am simply confused by your words and actions. If I were in your position, I would be furious as well. But I cannot help but feel that your calmness is a facade of sorts, for this news of Pandora Kircheisen is too much for me to believe."


    Gambino tried to keep his voice calm. He tried to look at it from every angle possible, but he still could not see through Cagliostro Narma''s intentions.


    ¡°Ah, I suppose I cannot hide it anymore. If only you were this observant earlier this morning.¡± Cagliostro paused and exhaled slowly. He cast a piercing gaze at the two subordinates seated before him.


    ¡°As soon as the Irregular escaped with Mercutio, I had already hired someone else to deal with the situation. He has quite the talent for information gathering, not to mention that he is also familiar with Mercutio. He informed me of his findings just an hour ago. According to him, the two left Ocarina, most likely via Elysium headed north toward a city by the name of Windsor. Say, Gambino, let¡¯s use the Bloodhounds as an examp¡ª¡±


    ¡°One of the most notorious criminal syndicates in Desperado?!¡±


    Cagliostro''s face contorted unsightly, clearly not liking being interrupted. Gambino was about to take another breath before the patriarch spoke once more, silencing him immediately.


    ¡°They are efficient, ruthless, and powerful assassins. This is the perfect job for them.¡±


    The blood drained from Gambino''s face. A wave a nausea washed over him.


    "If this is true, then what you are saying is that..."


    "Indeed. I hired the Bloodhounds to deal with the escaped Irregular."


    "But that means..."


    "I hope you have a good night''s rest, for tomorrow will be the day that you will watch your career go up in flames."


    "W-What do you mean? I don''t understand what you are saying, my lord!¡±


    Cagliostro lost his patience.


    ¡°I offered you a contract. You accepted it. Why are you so surprised that when you failed, I performed the other part of the contract we agreed to?¡±


    ¡°But this is just wrong! I can¡¯t let you consult with evil! Even if it¡¯s to avenge the late Young Lord, you can¡¯t hire people like those¡ªespecially like the Bloodhounds!¡±


    "Are you implying that the Narma Family has done something wrong?" Marcella spat as her eyes furiously blazed. "Have we done anything wrong? No. We have not. We are the righteous ones, the ones that have the right to avenge our son''s death. What did we do wrong? We simply hired people to do their jobs. Why is that a problem? What are you implying, that we are evil?"


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    ¡°No, but, the Bloodhounds can¡¯t be trusted, even with their¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oi, oi, oi! I know I was supposed to appear earlier to have my super special appearance, but I reaallllyyy don¡¯t like it when people talk shit about us.¡±


    The whole room fell silent.


    Everyone''s attention focused on the voice that boomed from the corner of the room. A shadow loomed over Gambino, followed by a bright white light and a piercing glare. Gambino tried to look up, but the light was blinding. He felt a hand grab his throat and a knee just inches away from digging into his chest.


    The figure stood over Gambino like a demon.


    "I''m not as patient as Cagliostro. I prefer to beat people to a bloody pulp rather than talk it out. So, if you don''t want me to beat the shit out of you, then keep your mouth shut. I''m only gonna tell you once, and you better listen up.¡±


    A shiver ran through Gambino as he saw the man''s face for the first time.


    A hound.


    The man wore an impassive expression, his blood-red eyes glimmering with cold cruelty as his choppy jet-white hair followed suit. A devilishly handsome man, his body was a tapestry of countless years of subterfuge and war. His countenance was etched with a sense of intimidation and bloodlust that oozed from his pores. The hound stood with a posture of utter ease, as if he was about to go for a stroll around the park. He was clad in a dark gray cloak, adorned with a myriad of intricate sigils, complex gadgets, and sharp weaponry.


    "First of all, I''ll tell you why you are such a failure. Your men couldn''t even move fast enough to take out that boy. I would''ve told you my name, but then you''ll get cocky and think that you can do a better job at tracking down the Irregular and be better than my Bloodhounds. We won''t have that, will we?"


    Gambino couldn''t find his voice.


    "That''s right. I''ll tell you my killing name. The name used in the Tachyon Empire? The name that strikes fear in men, that made the Sugorokus jump ship the moment they saw my shadow? I''ll tell you. I¡¯m Nemesis.¡± The white hound smiled, his crimson eyes glittering with anticipation as he saw the look of utter horror on Gambino''s face. "If you want to say something, say it now. Because if I hear your voice talking shit about my Bloodhounds again, I''m going to pound that face into a pulp until it resembles the aftermath of a nuke.¡±


    Releasing him from his ironclad grip, the hound returned to the corner.


    Cagliostro cleared his throat, slightly displeased at the turn of these events.


    ¡°I was going to formally introduce him, but this will suffice. This is Siegfried Eisenberg, leader of the Bloodhounds who are tasked with capturing the Irregular¡ªpreferably alive so we can have a formal execution¡ªbut bringing his head will also do. Since you have failed to meet your end of the bargain, Gambino, the only thing that awaits you is shame and unemployment. Farewell, former Head Chief of the IPA.¡±


    Cagliostro paused, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.


    "If you do happen to find out anything else about Mercutio or her companion, make sure that you inform me immediately. Otherwise, you may leave. I have no further use for you."


    ¡°...No.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    Gambino looked up. His eyes burned, something akin to resolve reflecting in those sharp optics.


    "I said no. I will not abandon my duty. I am a member of the Imperial Police Association, and I will continue to uphold our justice system to the best of my ability. You may think that you hired a capable assassin to take care of the problem, but the Bloodhounds are known to be incredibly inhumane and morally bankrupt. You''re simply putting your pride on the line by hiring them!"


    "Do you think that you have the right to challenge me and my decisions?"


    "I do not, Lord Cagliostro. But I have to stand up for what is right."


    "So you want to defy me? Where was all of this bravado and false confidence when I paid you money to go against your code? You were so quick to accept then. Truly, your ideology has no business being a factor in this.¡±


    "That''s because the money was far too large. Now, I feel that my sense of justice is the most important factor here." Gambino did not flinch under the pressure of Cagliostro''s glare. He knew that he had no choice but to stick to his principles.


    But unfortunately, Cagliostro Narma had enough.


    ¡°Oh my god. Shut up already, you incompetent fodder. All you do is talk, cower, scream, cry, stand in fear, make excuses, and whine about the easiest of tasks, yet you still have the gall to talk about your sense of justice in my estate? Do you really think you are worth anything? You are just a common, weak pipsqueak who talks big when you are nothing more than a wretched cur that the universe decided to birth out of pity, and here you are trying to dissuade me from taking vengeance on my son¡¯s death? I didn''t realize that people like you existed in the Empire, but you''ve made me realize that there are indeed some. First Irregulars, and now incompetent law enforcement? Heavens, my city needs some culling. How did you manage to hold a job? Wait, did you have one? No. You couldn''t have done anything worthwhile. I must say, the Centrum Supremum made a grave mistake in hiring you to be an officer. But perhaps it''s all thanks to the system, or perhaps they didn''t bother to do their due diligence before hiring you."


    Gambino was about to protest when Cagliostro slammed his fist into the arm of his throne. The resounding blow echoed throughout the room, making everyone flinch except for his wife.


    "Marcella, how long has it been since I have punished my civilians for insubordination? I believe it is time for us to change that. Gambino, you will not move from this spot, nor will you attempt to flee. Or else, I will personally gut you like a fish and hang your corpse out of the window to let all of the city see.¡± He paused, allowing Gambino to tremble in fear. ¡°Now then. Take off your badge, and stomp on it with all of the power you can muster. I do not care whether it takes one, one hundred, or one million times. You will stomp on it until it becomes nothing more than fine dust.¡±


    The scarred man stared mouth agape at the Narma patriarch. His eyes were ablaze with fury, his expression filled with rage, and his clenched fist trembling with wrath.


    Gambino''s hand crept toward his badge. His fingers brushed the metal, then jerked away as if burned. "I¡ªI can''t¡ª"


    ¡°Ah,¡± all the anger etched on Cagliostro¡¯s countenance seemingly vanished, almost as if he was testing Gambino.


    Except he wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°Then perish."


    A metal specter with a dazzling ruby jewel on the top materialized in a brilliant flash of light, held in Cagliostro¡¯s outstretched left hand.


    ¡°Incendio.¡±


    Suddenly, Gambino was set on fire.


    The flames scorched the floor and the walls. The smell of charred flesh and blood filled the air with a disgusting scent. Gambino tried to scream, but he could barely breathe. His heart began to hammer, his thoughts muddled as his entire body felt like it was about to be roasted alive. The flames seared his skin, eyes, bones, and everything he could think of. All he could see was the sight of death.


    Death, the ultimate respite from suffering.


    The flames raged within his body, consuming him from the inside out.


    No.


    There was no escape from death.


    No.


    There was no escape from suffering.


    No.


    Death was the only option.


    Yes, death was the only way.


    No.


    Death would come soon.


    Death.


    Death.


    Death.


    Gambino Russo was nothing more than a pile of ash.


    Silence settled over the room as everyone looked at Cagliostro, who sat back on his throne, examining his regalia with an amused expression.


    Marcella glanced at Cagliostro. She then glanced at the pile of ash, once of man.


    ¡°Back in your prime, you would have let the flames slowly cook him alive. Have you gone soft, dear?¡±


    The patriarch merely chuckled.


    ¡°Shall I kill the other one?¡± Interrupting their lovely banter was the brutal inquiry of Siegfried Eisenberg, staring deep into the irises of the broken Jonas. The hound¡¯s bloodlust was palpable, his Prana violating Jonas'' mind. His body trembled. His mind raged. Jonas didn''t want to die. But his body would not obey. He tried to stand up, but his knees buckled underneath him. His limbs shook violently. His throat closed, and his mouth opened and closed without any words. He could barely breathe. The flame¡¯s heat held dominion over his mind.


    ¡°No, let him live, Nemesis.¡±


    ¡°See! I knew you were getting soft,¡± Marcella giggled.


    ¡°That¡¯s not it. If I kill this one now, then he won''t be able to help me with anything, including his final words." Cagliostro grinned. ¡°And I want him to die slowly, so slowly that the memories of the past few hours haunt him for the rest of his life."


    ¡°I do mean it, Nemesis, when I say to bring the brat dead or alive.¡±


    ¡°Aye, aye, sir.¡± Siegfried lazily groaned as he stuck a finger in his ear.


    With that settled, Cagliostro turned to the cowering Jonas who was in a near catatonic state.


    "You were correct to not take your eyes off of me, Jonas Lucius. I knew that you wouldn''t try to run. Even now, you are thinking of ways to avenge your foolish superior, no? You should know that all of your attempts to become an avenger will amount to nothing. You are merely a pawn that can En Passant the next turn, and I do not want to waste that opportunity at this moment. However, if you start moving without my commands, I will not hesitate to remove you from the board."


    His sneer only intensified.


    ¡°Now, run. Run, run, and cling to life like a moth to a light. Remember the ashes of your superior when you think of slitting my throat, and promptly kill such fantasies. Etch this into your heart, Jonas Lucius.¡±


    Screaming, sobbing, running, and clinging to life, Jonas scurried away to the starry night.

 Chapter 13 - The City of Windmills

    <h2 style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 13: The City of Windmills]</h2>


    A gentle breeze caressed the undulating grasslands while graceful swans traced shimmering arcs in the morning sky. Their elegant flight awakened Acacia from his daze. He stretched, wincing as his spine protested its fusion with the Elysium''s deluxe seating. Beside him, Pandora hunched over a stack of paper. Her silver hair was a curtain for gold eyes that hadn''t lifted for hours.


    "I''m surprised you could sleep on this thing. Never knew train seats could feel like clouds," he remarked, studying the map embedded in the table before them.


    "I didn''t sleep. Some of us have actual work to do." Pandora''s voice emerged muffled through her hands.


    "Well, I''m surprised you could stay awake this long. I thought your age would be showing by now." He traced their route across the digital display, measuring the distance left to travel.


    "Don''t." She raised her head just enough to fix him with a glare. "First of all, I''m twenty-three. Second, some of us can''t just nap away our responsibilities like teenagers."


    "I wasn''t going to mention the age thing again," Acacia protested, though he couldn''t quite suppress his smile. Her irritability had taken on a new edge since they''d boarded, and he found himself wondering at its source.


    "Map says we''ll reach Windsor in about half an hour, right around sunrise." He leaned back, satisfaction creeping into his voice. "I wonder what it''s really like. It has to be better than Ocarina, at least¡ª"


    Pain lanced through his temple, sharp enough to cut off his words. His hand flew to his head, pressing against the sudden ache.


    "You okay?" Pandora raised an eyebrow as her attention shifted from her paperwork to Acacia.


    "Just a weird headache. It''ll pass."


    "Air pressure," she said, returning to her documents. "Windsor''s windmills create constant atmospheric fluctuations. Most people adjust quickly, especially those who can use Enhancement or Air spells to compensate." She paused, something flickering behind her eyes before she added, "Though I suppose that''s not particularly helpful in your case."


    The observation hung between them, neither accusation nor pity, simply fact. Acacia let it pass, his attention drawn to the landscape flowing past their window. Fields gave way to the first signs of authentic civilization as scattered buildings grew denser with each passing minute. Even from this distance, he could make out the distinctive shapes of windmills with their massive sails cutting lazy arcs through the morning air.


    This was his new home.


    The thought settled strangely in his chest; it wasn¡¯t welcome or unwelcome. It was merely present¡ªjust like the persistent throb in his temple that seemed to pulse in congruence with each rotation of those distant windmills.


    Pandora released a long sigh, letting her head fall back against the celestial comfort of the cushioning as if gravity had finally claimed victory over her usual composure. She was finally free from the barbed shackles of her paperwork.


    "If you hate paperwork so much," Acacia mused, "why choose to be an Inquisitor? There are less demanding positions. Court Marshal, maybe. Or even IPA¡ª"


    "No."


    The word fell between them like a blade.


    "...Come again?"


    ¡°I said no." Pandora¡¯s voice hardened. "You saw how they operate in Ocarina. They were ready to execute you on surface-level evidence that wouldn''t survive a proper trial, let alone scrutiny from the Divine Court. They acted on prejudice against Irregulars rather than pursuit of truth." She straightened, something fierce entering her gaze. "If they were true pursuers of justice, how could their ideals be easily swayed by the demands of subjects and lords?"


    "Yeah, but¡ª"


    "No ¡®buts.¡¯ I became an Inquisitor because we pursue truth above all else. The law must be impartial. A noble should face the same justice as an Irregular, a commoner the same scrutiny as a viceroy. Tachyonia Primaria''s eyes must view all equally, bending for none."


    Her words carried such weight that Acacia found himself momentarily struck silent.


    ¡°...You really are a pursuer of justice."


    "It''s how anyone in the Centrum Supremum should conduct themselves. The fact you see this as remarkable only proves how much the Empire needs to be reformed."


    Silence befell them, weighted with understanding. They''d lived vastly different lives, he realized, paths so divergent that they might never have crossed if not for fate''s machinations. The thought stirred something in his mind, prompting him to speak again.


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    Before she interrupted him.


    ¡°When I mentioned all of the options you had, you never once thought of returning to where your parents were. Actually, your file didn¡¯t have any information on your parents or relatives.¡±


    Her expression softened for the slimmest of moments.


    "What happened to them?"


    Fire.


    The memory erupted unbidden. Collapsing houses wreathed in flames, screaming bodies reduced to ash. Everyone he''d loved, admired, sought to protect¡ªall consumed by an inferno that knew neither mercy nor satiation. No matter how far he ran, the world burned crimson.


    It would never stop.


    It would never end.


    The flames would forever tether to his neck like a noose. He was a ghost, a mere phantasm drifting across an ocean of nothingness. That life was forever lost and those flames reduced his heart to cinders, alongside everything else.


    Acacia Belmont didn''t truly exist.


    This fa?ade, this false heart beating in his chest, was nothing more than an illusion he maintained.


    Unworthy of living. Never amounting to anything.


    What right did he have to survive when all others perished?


    When the fires of memory finally subsided, he found his voice again, though it emerged hollow.


    ¡°It was just a cruel twist of fate.¡±


    He couldn''t meet her eyes. If he looked up, the phantoms would be there¡ªfaces from the past judging his continued existence, mocking his failure to save them. Instead, he moved his gaze on to hands, maintaining a carefully blank expression.


    <hr>


    After 30 minutes or so, the Elysium reached its destination.


    The train whistle pierced the heavy atmosphere, announcing their approach to Windsor Station. Through the window, the first rays of dawn painted a city unlike anything Acacia had imagined. Pristine grasslands stretched towards the horizon, punctuated by massive windmills. The air seemed different here¡­ crisper, fresher, carrying the promise of something new.


    "This is Windsor," Acacia breathed.


    One glance revealed more about the city than any description could convey. Everything bore the mark of careful planning and maintenance, from the perfectly paved roads to the pristine buildings with their carefully tended gardens. Not a scrap of litter marred the scene, not a single structure showed signs of neglect.


    As the Elysium slowed to their platform, Acacia felt something shift in his chest. Whatever this new chapter held, it would be nothing like the life he''d left behind in Ocarina.


    Whether that was a blessing or curse remained to be seen.


    The breeze nearly swept Acacia off his feet as they exited the station. He could even see wind turbines in the outskirts stretching out endlessly, the rhythmic spins creating a symphony that mixed with distant music floating through pristine streets. Subjects strolled leisurely, seemingly at peace with the constant atmospheric dance their city performed.


    "Holy¡ª" Acacia caught himself, remembering Pandora''s earlier warning about drawing attention. But the sight before him defied restraint. Windsor was a masterwork of engineering married to natural beauty as its every aspect was carefully crafted to create harmony between technology and environment.


    Pandora gave him a withering look.


    "Yeah, yeah, yeah, chill out. You don''t want to attract unnecessary attention, right?"


    He nodded, falling into step beside her as they joined the steady flow of pedestrians. They passed elegant storefronts and restaurants that would have seemed impossibly luxurious in Ocarina.


    "The technology here...it¡¯s like we never left that train," Acacia whispered, unable to completely suppress his wonder.


    "Windsor invested heavily in sustainable infrastructure," Pandora explained, her voice pitched low enough that only he could hear. "Wind power proved more efficient than fossil fuels, and while prana has its uses, it requires significant expertise to harness effectively. At lower levels of mastery, conventional power sources remain more practical."


    The relationship between Thaumaturgy and conventional energy was more complex than Acacia had realized. Most subjects could enhance their daily lives with basic spells, but few possessed the mastery required to power entire cities and much less entire societies. Technology had developed alongside Thaumaturgy out of necessity; the Empire simply didn''t have enough high-level Thaumaturges to maintain its infrastructure through prana alone.


    "The Metropolitan and Royal Capitals are grander, but this is home." A rare smile ghosted across Pandora¡¯s features. Her expression then shifted back to its usual stoic mask as she turned to face him.


    "We have considerable work ahead of us today. You''re fortunate that it''s summer vacation, so there¡¯s no immediate need to handle school enrollment paperwork. However, we still need to establish your identity here, which means shopping, registration, and..." She grimaced. "More paperwork for me to process."


    "Wouldn''t have taken you for the shopping type of gal," Acacia astutely remarked, earning another withering look.


    "Was that really your takeaway from everything I just said?"


    "Hey, those wrinkles are showing again when you frown like that."


    Pandora peered down at him, her eyebrows creasing further if that were even possible.


    The boy merely chuckled and waved his hands nonchalantly. ¡°Alright, alright. No more comments about your age, I got it.¡±


    Feeling pleased, Pandora increased her pace and Acacia matched it without complaint. Windsor''s beauty continued to unfold around them with subjects dressed in practical, well-made clothing that spoke of prosperity without ostentation. The atmosphere couldn''t have been more different from Ocarina''s desperate attempts at grandeur.


    Yet beneath his appreciation, a familiar darkness lurked.


    If they find out that I¡¯m an Irregular¡­will they still treat me the same as right now? Will I still feel this comfortable?


    Windsor was serene, and Acacia found himself offering a silent prayer that it would remain so. Experience had taught him the futility of such hopes, but something about this city¡ªabout the woman striding beautifully beside him¡ªmade him want to believe otherwise.


    Even if that belief could prove to just be another illusion.

 Chapter 14 - The City of Windmills (II)

    <h2 style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 14: The City of Windmills (II)]</h2>


    "Since Ocarina is in the south, you probably haven''t encountered Adalind," Pandora said, guiding them toward an elegant storefront. ¡°Wait¡­ are you listening to what I¡¯m saying?¡±


    Acacia spaced out again.


    ¡°...Ah, sorry. What did you say again?¡±


    "Let''s use our listening ears this time," Pandora said, her tone carrying equal parts irritation and resignation. "As I was saying, this is Adalind¡ªone of the Empire''s premier boutiques. We¡¯re stopping here because you need new clothes. I don¡¯t know how you guys dressed in Ocarina, but wearing construction overalls over prisoner rags will make you look broke and homeless here. That is the opposite of being discreet.¡±


    The assessment, though harsh, carried undeniable logic. Acacia knew the best way to vanish into a new environment was to mirror its social patterns and aesthetics. Obvious disguises would only draw the attention he desperately needed to avoid. After his escape from Ocarina, returning wasn''t an option, he needed to adapt.


    "Okay," he conceded, suppressing his instinctive aversion to shopping. "It can''t be helped. If I''m going to be seen with someone in an Inquisitor''s uniform, I can''t look like I crawled out of a gutter."


    "As expected of Acacia. Your wisdom exceeds your years.¡±


    He might have shot her a dirty look if her point hadn''t been so irrefutable. Instead, he followed her lead through the crowded streets until she paused before the storefront.


    The building before them embodied refinement with clean lines and artful displays speaking of wealth that didn''t need to announce itself. While Acacia had known Pandora''s position granted her considerable means, he hadn''t expected her to frequent establishments of this caliber. It was a fancy establishment that offered tailored and custom-made clothing for all price ranges and occasions. Intrusive thoughts about women and shopping immediately rose to his head, but he crushed such potentially offensive inclinations.


    "So how am I changing out of these?" He gestured at his current attire.


    "The staff has private fitting rooms," she replied, already moving toward the entrance. "Though you shouldn¡¯t remove anything until you''ve made selections."


    "You know what? This will be fine. We''re already here, so let''s just buy what we need and go home." He coped.


    "You don''t fancy shopping? I guess that¡¯s normal for a boy.¡±


    "I hate it,¡± he quickly said, making Pandora suspicious that there was a deeper reason for his disdain of shopping other than his gender.


    "Then let''s make this as fast as possible. Pick something out that fits you, and I''ll take care of the rest."


    With that said, they entered the establishment. Inside, natural light flowed through carefully positioned windows, casting a warm glow across displays of expertly crafted clothing. An attendant approached, her professional demeanor only briefly faltering at Acacia''s current state before training reasserted control.


    "The young man requires a complete wardrobe. Something appropriate for daily life in Windsor." Pandora stated, her tone carrying enough authority to prevent any questions about her companion''s appearance.


    The attendant could only respond with a nod.


    The next half hour unfolded in a carefully orchestrated sequence of measurements and selections. Acacia gravitated toward simpler pieces that emphasized function without sacrificing quality. After several trials, he settled on an ensemble the female attendants deemed acceptable: a red baseball jacket complemented by a white shirt and designer jeans. Refined yet inconspicuous.


    ¡°See, that wasn¡¯t as bad as you thought,¡± Pandora said as the two exited Adalind. While Acacia did hate shopping, he couldn¡¯t help but feel an exquisite kind of jubilation after finding attire that best suited him. But he couldn¡¯t let that woman have her victory!


    "It was manageable." Acacia adjusted his new attire. "Those fitting room attendants were rather... enthusiastic about touching my skin. They were talking about how ¡®soft and smooth¡¯ it is. Real disturbing."


    "If you say so. Maybe you can ask only male workers to take care of you in the future?"


    "That''s even worse."


    "Oh? So you like it when girls touch you?" A trace of amusement colored her voice.


    "I''m choosing not to respond to that," Acacia said carefully. "Besides, those women were clearly older¡ª"


    ¡°How do you know that? Did they have their ages listed on their name cards? You probably assumed that they were older because they were taller than you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Will your shortphobia ever end?¡±


    "When you grow taller."


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    Acacia gazed upward, silently condemning whatever force had bound his fate to this insufferable woman. Yet beneath their verbal sparring, he recognized an almost comfortable pattern developing in their interactions. The observation gave him pause. Pandora projected perpetual winter, yet occasionally he glimpsed something warmer beneath the frost.


    "Now that we''ve addressed your wardrobe," she continued, already moving toward their next objective, "we need to acquire you a cellphone. You''ll need a reliable method of contacting me during my working hours."


    ¡°Oh, seriously?! That¡¯s friggin amazing!¡± Acacia beamed as he perked up. He had heard of the usefulness of cellphones before in newspapers, but Ocarina never had them in stock. Even if they were in stock, Acacia couldn¡¯t ever hope of affording them. It was laughable to assume that the newest form of cutting-edge technology could ever be afforded by someone working minimum wage.


    "It''s a practical necessity," Pandora maintained her businesslike tone. "Since you can''t access Ley Lines, we need alternative communication methods. Cellphones are the current standard, so we might as well use them."


    The logic seemed sound on the surface, but something nagged at Acacia''s mind. A simple two-way radio would have been enough for basic communication; a cellphone''s additional capabilities such as music, messaging, and location tracking, far exceeded mere necessity.


    Either she''s being more generous than she wants to admit¡­or she wants to monitor my movements.


    He filed the observation away as they navigated Windsor''s streets toward one of Seven Shades Technologies'' retail locations. The modernist structure commanded some level of attention as clean lines and gleaming surfaces established SST''s dominance in the technological sphere.


    "You know SST?" Pandora asked, noting the recognition in his eyes.


    "They''re one of the Empire''s leading tech corporations. Even in Ocarina, their name carries weight. Windsor being their headquarters is common knowledge."


    He deliberately understated his knowledge, unwilling to reveal how many hours he''d spent studying their innovations.


    "I hadn''t expected such awareness from¡ª" She caught herself, but the implication hung between them.


    "From my background?" He completed her thought. "The company comes up in conversation."


    It wasn''t entirely false. Employment at Seven Shades Technologies had once represented his greatest aspiration, a dream of transcending Ocarina''s limitations through merit rather than Thaumaturgy.


    But that was before... everything. It was before he''d truly comprehended how power operated in the Empire, whether technological or thaumaturgical.


    They approached the store''s entrance, where a considerable queue had already formed despite the early hour. A man greeted them at the counter, his professional smile firmly in place.


    "Hello! How can I help you today?"


    "I would like to get a cellphone, if possible," said Acacia.


    The man''s smile faltered slightly. "Ah, I apologize, but we don''t sell cellphones to children under sixteen years old. It''s our newest device that is actually set to come out in two weeks nationally, and company policy requires us to be cautious about technology''s effects on younger generations."


    Acacia froze, thrown by the blatant dismissal. Pandora remained silent beside him, clearly waiting to see how he would handle the situation. After a moment of stunned silence, he found his voice.


    "How do you know my age? I could be twenty-four for all you know."


    "Your height and voice are rather telling indicators," the man replied with a practiced chuckle. "Also, this building has [Bounded Field] that relays information about visitors'' appearances, heights, weights, clothing, and potential weapons to our staff."


    ¡°...[Bounded Field]?¡±


    "It''s a subtype of Barrier Thaumaturgy," Pandora interjected. "You create a barrier of prana around a specified region, then calculate its permeability and visibility. The size, duration, and function all depend on the caster''s skill. Most establishments like this one use them as security measures."


    She then stepped forward, producing her Inquisitor identification.


    "I believe an exception can be made when the guardian is a Centrum Supremum official."


    The man''s complexion paled dramatically as he registered her credentials.


    "High Inquisitor Kircheisen! My sincerest apologies¡ªyes, that arrangement is perfectly acceptable. I''ll have our staff prepare the latest model immediately. We''d appreciate any and all feedback on how the younger generation responds to the technology, but that''s a discussion for another time. Please, feel free to return anytime!"


    "Thank you very much." Pandora acknowledged his gratitude with a slight nod. As the man retreated to notify his colleagues, she caught Acacia studying her.


    "Something''s been bothering me. Back at Adalind, they treated you like any other customer. Even when you walked through the streets, no one approached you or seemed to recognize you. But here..." He gestured at the man''s retreating form. "You''re supposedly Windsor''s celebrity High Inquisitor, yet you move through the city virtually unnoticed. How?"


    "Nothing escapes your notice, does it?" Pandora sighed before continuing, "The Centrum Supremum teaches its members a particular technique¡ªan Interference spell that prevents the hippocampus from connecting long-term memories of the caster''s appearance. To most observers, I¡¯m just the definition of an ¡®average woman.¡¯ My features fail to register in their minds."


    "Yet I can see you clearly," Acacia noted. "Another quirk of being an Irregular?"


    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s bugging me. Interference spells can work on Irregulars since, despite not having prana, they do have a Subjective Reality that can be tampered with. But for you¡­ I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s going on. I think I¡¯ll just chalk it up to a deficiency with this spell in general."


    Acacia allowed himself a small smile. Finally, he was above Thaumaturges in something!


    "So you have two layers of concealment¡­ hiding both Mercutio and your position as High Inquisitor. Must be exhausting, constantly managing how the world perceives you."


    Pandora paused momentarily, a bit taken aback at how casual and frank he was with her.


    "That''s the Empire''s reality," she said finally. "The talented and powerful become objects of fascination. Without exceptional Thaumaturgy, noble blood, or the right connections, one remains..." She trailed off, her expression suggesting memories she''d rather not revisit.


    "Are you sure you''re only twenty-three? You''re starting to sound like my grandma."


    Pandora scoffed and waved a hand at him dismissively. "Keep it up, and you''ll find yourself sleeping on the streets."


    "Shouldn''t you tell me not to speak so rudely to a lady, or do you not even consider yourself one?"


    His jest earned him a glare that could have frozen hell, to which he countered with a sneer.

 Chapter 15 - The City of Windmills (III)

    <h2 style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 15: The City of Windmills (III)]</h2>


    A moment of charged silence passed before Pandora changed topics.


    "Do you know how to operate a cellphone?"


    ¡°I haven¡¯t had the chance to even touch one before, but I¡¯m a quick learner,¡± Acacia replied.


    "I suppose we''ll see. At least you can read and write. The keypad shouldn''t prove too challenging."


    "I was top of my class at Heinemann," he countered, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. "Mathematics, Chemistry, and Language Systems. Being the smartest was my only defense against..." He didn''t finish the thought, but Pandora''s expression suggested she understood.


    "You wanted to work here, didn''t you?" she asked, uncharacteristically soft.


    Acacia was quiet before he finally allowed himself to speak.


    "...I originally thought Thaumaturgy was a science that could help people. Even though I couldn''t use it myself, even though it made me a target for bullies... I found the lectures fascinating. Part of me still prayed, entreated God that he could make me a Thaumaturge."


    The Irregular sighed.


    ¡°Obviously, that never happened.¡±


    He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing.


    "Thaumaturgy is nothing but a weapon¡ªa tool for harming others. When it''s not being used to kill, it only serves the wielder''s selfish interests. I was naive to think people would use it for the greater good. If SST endorses that kind of power, I want nothing to do with them."


    His gaze then fixed on Pandora.


    "Remember that boy, Trifa, after my escape? Another Irregular. Your first instinct was to strike him down. He would have had no defense. I don''t think you''re inherently cruel, but Thaumaturgy makes it too easy to act without consideration. A power that enables such violence...I can¡¯t accept it.¡±


    Silence stretched between them as Pandora absorbed his words. For someone with her reputation¡ªan unstoppable force of justice, solver of impossible cases¡ªhis perspective must have seemed alien.


    Yet, something in his argument seemed to reach her.


    "Do you resent me then, Acacia?¡±


    "No. But that doesn''t mean I forgive your casual use of it. Even if you saved me, I can''t absolve you of your past actions. That''s not my place. You''re part of the system, and I''m sure you carry your share of sins. Ask those who''ve suffered from your Thaumaturgy if you want forgiveness. You might not even know the full scope of destruction you''ve caused, and that''s how power works. A science of miracles? It¡¯s nothing but pretty words for ugly truths."


    "My sins..." Pandora whispered, a weight of memory that made her seem far older than her years.


    The staff member''s return broke their heavy moment.


    "My apologies for the wait. Your device is ready." He presented a sleek box containing the cellphone.


    "It looks amazing!" Acacia''s earlier intensity vanished beneath genuine excitement.


    "If you could fill out this form," the man slid over a paper and pen. "We''ll need your name for registration."


    Acacia hesitated briefly at the surname field before writing "Belmont" carefully, a name unfamiliar to the rhythm of his hand.


    "Remarkable penmanship," Pandora noted, the man nodding in agreement.


    "My mother was a calligraphy teacher," Acacia replied with a smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes. Both Pandora and the clerk recognized the diplomatic deflection for what it was. No one¡¯s handwriting could ever be that good, even if one¡¯s parents were a teacher in calligraphy.


    "If I may ask, Mr. Belmont," the clerk ventured, "your name has Tachyonian and Wallachian roots, but¡ªforgive my presumption¡ªyour appearance suggests Sugoroku heritage. Are you of mixed descent?"


    Acacia caught Pandora''s subtle warning glance. "Actually, I''m Pandora''s cousin¡ªpractically a sister to me. I''m spending summer break here to experience her life and work. As for my appearance, just some interesting genetic expression I guess?"


    Please don''t murder me for the sister comment, he added silently.


    "I see, I see," the man nodded sagely.


    Pandora cleared her throat. "If you''ll excuse us, I need a word with my... cousin. Perhaps you could finalize the phone''s setup?" She displayed her identification again, prompting another reflexive bow from the clerk.


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    "Of course, Lady Kircheisen! It''s been an honor!" He practically sprinted toward the back, leaving Acacia trying to suppress his amusement.


    "He certainly seemed enthusiastic about meeting you."


    "I¡¯m the second-ranked High Inquisitor in the Centrum Supremum. Like you noticed, I¡¯m quite the celebrity." she replied with a hint of pride and a hair flip that made Acacia roll his eyes.


    ¡°Who¡¯s first then?¡± he sneered as to rain on her parade.


    "William Ainsworth¡ªhead of the House of Ainsworth. He''s the one who granted me my position, along with the court judges, about a year ago."


    "The one who solved the Empire''s most infamous case? I''ve heard rumors."


    "He maintains his privacy and only partakes in public affairs when he needs to show up for his House, hence the limited information about him."


    "Sounds thoroughly unpleasant, just like you,¡± Acacia smirked.


    "Be grateful you''ll never meet him. His standards for those he deems as ¡®annoying¡¯ are stupidly rigid. He¡¯s brilliant, clearly, but utterly lacking in basic human understanding. His prodigy status bred such arrogance that he views most people as tools to discard whenever he loses interest in them. I''m still surprised he recognized me as human, given his initial dismissal."


    "Perhaps he was captivated by your beauty," Acacia suggested with exaggerated innocence.


    Pandora''s eyes narrowed. "If that were true, he would have lost interest after our second meeting."


    "Ah, then it must be love~" he sang, dodging her withering glare.


    "Shut up."


    The clerk''s return spared Acacia from further retaliation. "Everything''s prepared. This is the Seven Shades Mark I. It¡¯s our newest model, not officially releasing for another two weeks. The keypad is optimized for finger input, with ten standard numerical keys. Customization options are currently limited."


    "That works fine," Acacia nodded, giving a cursory glance at the device. "The layout seems intuitive enough."


    "Wonderful! We hope you''ll enjoy exploring its innovative features. Please do share your feedback in the future!" The man beamed as he handed over the package.


    "Thank you very much," Pandora and Acacia responded in perfect unison.


    <hr>


    ¡°Holy crap, this is your house?! It¡¯s friggin¡¯ huge! The hell?! It has cobblestones leading up to the front door, and a garden and backyard too?! What kind of mansion is this? Where the hell are we?! This isn''t the royal palace I''ve heard so much about! We must''ve traveled at least half an hour to get to this place! I thought that the Royal Capital was at the center of the Empire! Wait, what the hell?! It looks like a castle! This is totally a castle! Why did you bring me to their castle?! What¡¯s even happening?!"


    "Stop yapping," Pandora cut through his stream of exclamations. "It''s neither castle nor mansion, just a well-maintained modern home. The government provided it as my base of operations in Windsor. I need somewhere to sleep, eat, and work on cases away from the capital to preserve my sanity. Though I appreciate your dramatic reaction."


    "You''re welcome..." Acacia surrendered his attempt to comprehend the enigma that was Pandora Kircheisen. "But you''re certain this isn''t some noble residence? My knowledge of aristocratic housing is¡­ admittedly limited."


    "It''s a three-bedroom house with standard features: living room, kitchen, dining room, basement. Dude, what use would I have for a mansion without staff to maintain it?" She seemed genuinely puzzled by his persistence.


    "Did you actually just say ''dude'' unironically?"


    "I did, and I''ll do it again, dude."


    "Apologies, my fair lady!" He acerbically bowed with a faux noble accent.


    Their bickering continued as they entered the house. After removing their shoes, Pandora led him into a spacious living room that managed to feel both elegant and lived-in.


    "Welcome to the heart of the house," she said, gesturing to their surroundings. A large couch faced a wall-mounted television, while a tasteful chandelier cast warm light across a coffee table. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, an antique clock mounted above its mantle. Through sliding glass doors, Acacia glimpsed a meticulously maintained garden.


    "That a Sakura tree?" he asked, noting the distinctive shape.


    "Good eye. The Cherry Blossom¡ªsymbol of the Sugoroku Empire. Rather surprising to see such imports so soon after the war."


    Acacia turned his attention back to the interior. Bright lights streamed through open windows and curtains, illuminating walls that remained purposefully bare. It made sense as this was a temporary residence, after all, not a permanent home.


    "The staircase?"


    "Yes, with the bathroom just there. Mind the vacuum cleaner stored below."


    "Everything''s so big!"


    Pandora sighed, patience wearing thin at his continued amazement. "The layout includes several guest rooms, the basement, main bathroom, and additional spaces. Your room is upstairs with its own bathroom. The second guest room is in the basement. Kitchen''s there, fully stocked¡ªthough don''t waste food. Laundry''s in the basement. Dining room is off-limits barring guests. The backyard features a grill, the garden you saw, open space, the Sakura tree, and a pool."


    "A pool? Why would you need¡ª"


    "For Thaumaturgy. The bathroom isn''t exactly ideal for that purpose."


    "That can be taken in a variety of ways...wait, how much money do you make?!"


    "Access to my financial records requires a fee."


    "Which is?"


    "Stop asking me questions until tomorrow and get your ass to sleep is the fee." A sickly sweet smile graced her features.


    Acacia muttered something distinctly uncomplimentary in a foreign tongue before heading upstairs.


    "Take a shower first!" Pandora called after him. "And help yourself to food if you''re hungry! I''m going to bed, and if you put one foot inside my bedr¡ª"


    "Not hungry! Just going to sleep!"


    "I see. Then...good night. Sleep well." Something in her tone made him pause briefly before continuing to his room.


    After a shower that introduced him to water pressure he hadn''t known was possible, Acacia sank into an unfamiliar bed that felt like lying on a cloud. For the first time since that night of fire and loss, his dreams held no shadows of the past.


    Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the day.


    Perhaps it was the strange sense of security he''d found in this house of contradictions.


    Or perhaps it was simply time for new dreams to take root.

 Chapter 16 - Respite

    <h2 style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 16: Respite]</h2>


    Summer vacation had claimed Windsor at last.


    Sunlight spilled through uncovered windows, rousing Acacia from sleep alongside the chorus of morning birds. The curtains¡­he''d forgotten to draw them again. Such habits would take time; his tenement in Ocarina had never possessed such luxuries. Rolling onto his side, he surveyed the unfamiliar room, relief washing over him as memories of recent days crystallized.


    "Finally free of Ocarina." A faint smile crossed his features, dispelling the last wisps of familiar nightmares.


    The Irregular rose, following the rhythms of a new morning routine. Cold water shocked life back into his face before he methodically brushed his teeth, the mundane ritual grounding him in this strange reality. His hand paused over the bathroom cabinet, noting with bemused curiosity the masculine scents of cologne and deodorant. An odd choice for someone like Pandora to keep stocked.


    Was she planning on this to happ¡ª


    Acacia discarded the haphazard thought immediately.


    Once finished in the bathroom, he slung on the red baseball jacket, white shirt, and designer jeans bought from Adalind. Hopping back to check his appearance in the mirror, he sighed. The Irregular didn¡¯t think highly of his looks, but he didn¡¯t seem homeless like yesterday.


    Pandora still slept, her door firmly closed. Acacia knew better than to disturb her. He¡¯d consumed enough fiction to know the folly of barging into a lady''s chambers, doubly so when said lady was literally Mercutio. He descended the stairs instead, footsteps echoing through the modern but somewhat sterile living space. The house needed work, personality¡ªsomething to make it more than just walls and furniture.


    But that would come with time.


    The analog clock on the wall read 8:00 AM sharp. With nothing else to occupy him, Acacia decided to prepare breakfast, a small gesture of appreciation for his unexpected savior. As if summoned by the thought of food, Pandora appeared at the foot of the stairs, rubbing sleep from her eyes.


    She cut a different disposition from her usual Inquisitor presence¡ªsilver hair bound in a practical bun, darker complexion enhanced by subtle makeup, eyes framed by glasses rather than steel. If Acacia didn''t know better, he might have mistaken her for just another office worker rather than one of the most feared figures in the Empire.


    "Morning." She greeted sleepily, stifling a yawn.


    "Good morning." Acacia waited for her to settle at the dining room table, watching as she poured tea into a waiting mug.


    "Have you eaten yet?" She studied him over the rim of her cup.


    "I''ll cook for you," he offered. "You don''t have to worry about that."


    "...You can cook?" Skepticism dripped from every syllable.


    "I had to learn if I didn''t want to live off instant noodles forever." A serene smile touched his lips, memories flickering behind his eyes. "Hated it at first, kept burning myself. But now it''s one of my favorite things to do. What''s the word...ah, salubrious. Least I can do after you saved me from execution."


    Pandora''s expression remained unreadable as she shrugged. "Do what you want." She abandoned the kitchen for the living room, the television''s drone soon filling the morning quiet.


    Acacia watched her go before turning to the kitchen, determination settling over his features. This was his chance to prove himself and to make her take him seriously! He checked the refrigerator, scanning to see if it had all of the ingredients he needed to make his signature breakfast plan.


    "Holy crap, I didn''t know fridges could be this loaded."


    ¡°What? Got cold feet? Can¡¯t think of something to cook?¡± Pandora smoothly challenged.


    Oh, it¡¯s on, woman.


    "Actually, no." He reached for garlic and parsley with practiced ease. "You''ve got everything I need. Though I can''t guarantee it''ll suit your tastes."


    "Are you insulting my tastebuds?"


    "Nope. I''m saying you have none. That''s what happens when your diet is solely tea and coffee. They probably burnt off or something."


    Pandora''s silence spoke volumes as she lifted her mug for another sip.


    "You should really invest in better cutlery. These knives aren''t nearly sharp enough." Acacia remarked, smirking as he diced garlic and parsley with fluid motions despite the dull blade.


    "You sound like my father," Pandora remarked sarcastically.


    "That''s good then. He sounds like a smart man." His smile refused to waver as he sliced sourdough bread, cracking eggs over a heated skillet where butter and oil already danced together.


    "He was.¡±


    "Was?"


    "Well, he was my adoptive father," she corrected herself, voice distant. "He passed away eight years ago."


    "Oh...I shouldn''t have asked."


    "Well, you did. I was a refugee from a terrible earthquake in Thalassia, a Tachyon colony down south. My biological family didn''t survive, but I did, somehow. I was three. A knight stationed in the region during the earthquake saw me, decided to adopt me. Without him..." She recounted the tragedy with clinical detachment, as if reading from someone else''s biography. "Who knows what I''d be doing now."


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    "I''m sorry. I made you remember something painful... I really am an idiot sometimes." Shame colored his words as he ducked his head.


    ¡°I¡¯ll forgive you only if the breakfast is adequate.¡± Pandora curtly challenged.


    "You damn slavedriver," he muttered under his breath, but his hands never stopped moving as he assembled the meal. "Breakfast is served, madam." Acacia presented the plate with exaggerated formality, mimicking her signature sarcasm.


    "Thank you,¡± she replied, unfazed.


    "My greatest pleasure to serve you," he continued the charade. "A fried egg with toasted sourdough, sliced tomatoes, and garlic butter spread. I hope it meets your exacting standards." He planted his hands on his hips with mock pride, as if he''d just solved one of the Empire''s great mysteries.


    Pandora lifted her fork without comment. She took a bite, then another, then another¡ªeach measured motion betraying nothing of her thoughts. Only when half the plate lay empty did she speak.


    "Why does this have to taste so..." She struggled for words, frustration creeping into her voice. "It''s just eggs and bread with tomatoes and paste. I don''t understand." Something like defeat crossed her features as she took another bite. "This is restaurant quality. Where did you learn this?"


    Acacia took this as a cue to sit down in front of her.


    "I just read a lot of cookbooks in the library. It mostly came down to trial and error," he nonchalantly explained with a shrug of his shoulders, watching as Pandora took another bite, her face turning into one of genuine shock.


    "There''s no way you just read cookbooks. You must''ve been taught by an actual master. Did you make this for anyone before?" Pandora asked, completely confused by Acacia''s expertise.


    "Nope, it''s not like there was anyone who''d ever let me cook for them." He dryly chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s just trial and error, I tell you.¡±


    Recognizing defeat, Pandora finished her meal in silence. She rose, deposited her plate in the sink, and headed for the living room without another word. Acacia settled in to eat his own creation, his mind already cataloging improvements.


    Too much salt. Need something acidic next time. Could reduce the salt in the eggs...


    "Hey, Pandora! You can''t escape without telling me how it was! Don''t think you''re getting off that easy!"


    Pandora stopped dead in her tracks before sighing.


    "It tasted...very good." The words emerged reluctantly, touched with an unfamiliar shyness. "Thank you. I was wrong to doubt your abilities."


    "I knew you had some manners after all." Acacia snickered. "I was worried I was going to make you a critic instead of a customer. But I suppose this is okay."


    "Enjoy the satisfaction while it lasts." Ice crystallized once more in her tone.


    Her expression hardened as she continued, "Now, we have something important to handle before I head to work. We need to register your identity in the Imperial System. The only records of you exist in Ocarina''s local government. They likely deemed an Irregular with no family ties too irrelevant for the Imperial registry. They also assumed you''d never leave the area. Their mistake in filing works to our advantage. Unless they specifically request your information and false accusation be transferred to the Imperial System, you effectively have a blank slate."


    "Question." Acacia raised his hand like a student, prompting an annoyed nod from Pandora. "How can you be so certain about this blank slate? By now, Ocarina''s authorities must have filed a missing report about my failed execution. If the central government catches wind of this, I''ll have a bounty on my head. Wouldn''t it be safer to stay unregistered until the IPA stops looking?"


    "That won''t be necessary."


    ¡°What?¡±


    "You told me Giovanni''s parents bribed Head Chief Gambino Russo and his subordinate, Jonas Lucius, to expedite your execution date. Consider what that means."


    Acacia''s mind turned the pieces over, but the full picture remained just out of reach.


    "They committed an illegal action to force the IPA''s hand and test Gambino''s capabilities," Pandora continued, fully excising the matter. "But you escaped. Now, typically, anyone who paid such a bribe would pressure their commissioner to track down the fugitive, but the IPA has already proven their incompetence. That would be a waste of time, and time is what Cagliostro values most."


    She paused, golden eyes studying him. "Indulge yourself in Cagliostro¡¯s mind and emotional state. When the prime suspect in your son''s murder publicly escapes from the local police you''ve privately bribed, what''s your next move?"


    "...He''d handle it himself," Acacia breathed, understanding dawning. "Since he can''t rely on the IPA anymore, he''ll take matters into his own hands."


    "Precisely." Pandora sipped her tea. "Out of frustration or pragmatism, he''s likely ordered Gambino and the IPA to back off. They''re incentivized to comply¡ªif they brought this case to the Centrum Supremum against Cagliostro''s wishes, they''d have to admit an Irregular escape in broad daylight which is incredibly shameful. Even if they claimed the legendary Mercutio or some powerful Thaumaturge aided your escape, they''d look like fools without evidence."


    Her lips curved in a cold smile.


    "Either way, Ocarina''s IPA would be left demoralized and leaderless. Gambino would resign in shame, or Cagliostro would orchestrate his removal. This frees Cagliostro to pursue you through whatever means necessary¡ªlegal or otherwise." She set down her cup. "Haven''t you wondered why no one on the Elysium stopped us if the information was supposedly being transferred up central?"


    "That makes sense..." Acacia''s voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "I can''t imagine being in his position." The weight of Cagliostro''s grief and rage pressed down on him. Even though he despised Gio, he never wished death on him.


    "Don''t waste sympathy on that man." Pandora''s tone could have frozen flame. "His prejudice against Irregulars has blinded him so completely that he can''t fathom any other suspect. I hate agreeing with the IPA, but the best way to find a culprit is through a deductive process, not pointing fingers at the most convenient target."


    Acacia let that last comment pass without response. The fact that local authorities were so biased they couldn''t properly investigate before rushing to execution felt like a slap across the face. They''d had a real chance to find the true culprit, but they''d squandered it pursuing him instead.


    "So because we haven''t been stopped by authorities, that means my information hasn''t been disclosed by the IPA, and Cagliostro told them to back off? But won''t they find it suspicious that I''m not registered in the Imperial System?" Acacia was working through the logic.


    Pandora nodded, finishing the rest of her tea.


    "While unusual, it''s easily explained. Most subjects are registered in the Imperial System by age thirteen. However, there are exceptions due to extraordinary circumstances¡ªparticularly for foreigners. At fifteen, you''re still within the acceptable age range for late registration. There may be some raised eyebrows, but they won''t question it deeply since you''re technically still underage. You''re fortunate though. At sixteen, when legal adulthood begins, this would be far more complicated. With official registration in both local and Imperial systems, your status as an Irregular becomes less scrutinized. Even Cagliostro will find it harder to exploit you in any potential trial."


    "I see..." Acacia mumbled in deep thought. He had to admit, he was fortunate for Pandora to be the one that saved him. It would be far more difficult if he had only himself to rely on.


    "Let''s get going before we''re late for the appointment. It starts at 9:15. I''ll tell you the story we''re going to follow later."


    Pandora checked her pocket watch. It was almost 9:00 AM, meaning they had to rush if they didn''t want to be late.


    Well, "rushing" for her was running at a rate far surpassing the speed of sound, but she doubted whether Acacia could even run a kilometer in under 15 minutes.

 Chapter 17 - Respite (II)

    <h2 style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 17: Respite (II)]</h2>


    The local government center dominated the street, a three-story monument to bureaucratic power. Its white facade gleamed in the morning sun, housing a first-floor bank where subjects collected their money, while the second and third floors contained government offices for taxes, income reporting, and legal matters. The second floor also maintained records of past cases and housed an information desk for subjects seeking guidance. The building represented Windsor''s administrative heart, a modern marvel of architecture befitting the City of Windmills.


    "It¡¯s like everywhere we go, we see crazier and crazier buildings." Acacia marveled in awe, somewhat shell-shocked at the number of wonders he had witnessed in the past few days.


    "This is Windsor''s city hall. The town hall isn''t far, but we should hurry. Registration is on the second floor." Pandora strode toward the entrance, her pace brooking no argument.


    The Irregular followed, entranced by the vast lobby. It was like stepping into one of the museums he''d read about in Ocarina''s public library. Sunlight poured through the glass ceiling, painting everything in crisp morning light. He watched a subject enter to withdraw cash, wondering how many others had stood here, awestruck by this architectural testament to Windsor''s prosperity. The contrast with Ocarina''s utilitarian structures¡ªall stone, brick, and practical concrete¡ªcouldn''t have been starker. Here, expensive metals and materials weren''t luxuries but standard building blocks.


    "Stop spacing out. We don''t have time for sightseeing," Pandora called, waiting by the escalators.


    The boy snapped out of his stupor. "Oh, sorry! Let''s go, then!"


    "Seriously¡­shouldn¡¯t you be more concerned about this than me?" She muttered, brow furrowing with familiar exasperation.


    The duo ascended to the second floor, where a receptionist awaited them. Professional and poised, she greeted Pandora with clear recognition¡ªtheir visit had been anticipated.


    "Greetings, High Inquisitor Kircheisen. The room is prepared. First door on your right after turning left. Please bring the subject with."


    So it seems she has turned off the disguise spell now. Acacia remarked internally.


    Pandora acknowledged the receptionist with a curt nod before leading them to the designated room. Inside, an elderly man rose immediately to greet them, his movements carrying the weight of bureaucratic authority.


    "High Inquisitor Pandora Kircheisen; what an honor to meet someone of such prestige. I am Christoff Maximus." He extended his hand to which Pandora accepted with professional courtesy. "And this must be our guest of honor?"


    "Good morning, Mr. Maximus." Her handshake was decorous, though Acacia caught its insincerity. "This is my client, Acacia Belmont. He seeks subjecthood in the Tachyon Empire."


    "Well, well, well, what a wonderful development." Christoff''s naturally stern expression bore into Acacia''s eyes. "Acacia Belmont, was it?" His hand remained extended. "An unusual name, yet beautiful nonetheless. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, young man."


    Acacia paused, searching for any malice in the administrator''s demeanor but finding none. Quickly, before his hesitation became noticeable, he returned the handshake with matching firmness.


    "Likewise, Mr. Maximus."


    "Please, be seated." Christoff settled behind his desk as they took their places opposite him. "Now then, tell me about Acacia''s origins. What brings him to Windsor? Any notable lineage or guardians we might contact? What necessitates this subjecthood application?" He produced a notebook and pen, ready to document their responses.


    Pandora launched into their prepared narrative devoid of hesitation. Acacia mentally rehearsed the story they''d constructed, each detail crystallizing in his mind.


    "Acacia comes from the Wallachian Empire. He¡¯s distant cousin of mine, in fact. I only learned of his existence weeks ago when my adoptive father¡¯s cousins mentioned him in passing. They spoke of how his entire family¡ªthe Belmonts, distant relatives of the Kircheisens¡ªperished in a recent atrocity in central Wallachia."


    Christoff''s eyes widened at the mention of the Wallachian Empire. Despite centuries of rivalry between the Four Great Hegemonies, Wallachia and Tachyon had forged a full alliance in the aftermath of World War III. Their shared bloodlines had finally overcome ancient enmities, though this d¨¦tente was barely two decades old. Wallachian foreigners remained rare enough in the Empire to draw notice, yet Christoff maintained his professional composure.


    "What was the event?" Christoff''s pen hovered over his notepad.


    Pandora''s expression remained perfectly controlled, while Acacia maintained the same careful composure he''d shown during their initial rehearsal. "As he is my relative, I''ll spare his dignity by keeping details minimal." She paused, crafting the perfect semblance of restrained grief. "The Annerose Incident in Eichenstadt, the Empire capital."


    The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Christoff''s pen clattered against his desk.


    "Is that... truly?"


    "Unfortunately so." Pandora maintained her performance as Acacia internally released a carefully held breath. "I confirmed it myself during my recent visit to Eichenstadt. Among the twenty noble families slaughtered, the Belmonts¡ªdespite their modest standing¡ªwere not spared. Acacia survived only by chance, away from home with friends when it happened. He''s just fifteen, with no one else to turn to. I couldn''t bear to leave him alone in Wallachia haunted by those memories. I brought him to Windsor, initially just for respite, but it seems he wishes to build a new life here. Having imperial subjecthood would ease that transition considerably."


    "How terrible... unconscionable..." Christoff set aside his writing implements as he shook his head


    The Annerose Incident had become infamous for being one of the most meticulously documented series of murders in recent memory. Though the initial toll of 68 victims across twenty noble families seemed almost modest by the standards of mass violence, the details defied logic. Every death occurred simultaneously at 8 PM, a fact that confounded local authorities until its central government recognized the implications¡­ that only high-level Thaumaturgy could orchestrate such precise synchronization.


    The methodology was equally as haunting. Each victim''s heart was extracted. Every male patriarch bore identical skull trauma as eight had their heads were carved with letters in Greek. Most disturbing were the roses, single blooms placed within the cardiac cavities, a signature that transformed random violence into a calculated message. The perpetrator left no trace, no evident motive beyond the theatrical display of power.


    If one were to rearrange the letters they wrote on the eight seemingly random chosen patriachs, only one coherent word would form.


    ????????????????, or, ¡°Annerose.¡±


    As the incident''s notoriety spread through both Empires, authorities could only conclude that this entity¡ªdubbed "Annerose" by the masses¡ªmade a statement written in noble blood.


    "This is just horrible... absolutely horrible," Christoff muttered again, sweat beading on his brow as he studied Acacia. "How are you managing, young man?"


    ¡°As fine as I can be,¡± The Irregular impassively replied, expertly selling the facade of a disillusioned child.


    Upon this rose, I swear that you shall not die.


    I¡¯m just imagining it. It couldn¡¯t have been him. Acacia fought to suppress the voice, even as certainty settled like lead in his stomach.


    "Given the circumstances, subjecthood seems the only humane option," Christoff said after a steadying breath. "However, we''ll need to process the necessary documentation." He reached beneath his desk, producing a formidable stack of papers that tightened Acacia''s throat. The administrator extended the folder and pen to Pandora, who accepted them gracefully.


    "I assume you''re prepared to serve as Acacia Belmont''s legal guardian?" Christoff asked, circling the desk to better facilitate the exchange.


    Pandora scanned the documents briefly before nodding. "Correct. I have no reservations about accepting such a responsibility."


    Relief visibly washed over the elderly man''s features.


    "Thank goodness." He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief before redirecting his attention. "Young man, I''d like your thoughts on this arrangement. If you need more time in Windsor before committing to such a decision, we can certainly accommodate that."


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "No, that won''t be necessary." Acacia shook his head, careful to maintain the perfect balance between politeness and certainty. "This is clearly the better option, and I wouldn''t want to waste your time with a provisional registration." A slight smile touched his lips. "Besides, I''d already accepted this path when I came here. I trust Pandora as my guardian. She''s a good person." The words escaped before he could filter them.


    Pandora''s eyes widened in genuine surprise.


    "Excellent to hear. You''ve clearly made the right choice." Christoff handed over the thick folder for processing. "Please complete these subjecthood application forms, and I''ll prepare my official seal."


    The boy got up to grab the pen that was extended out by the man, then he took a seat in front of Pandora to fill out the document. He decided to go with the simplest and most truthful answers he could come up with. The questionnaire asked for a name, birthday, subjecthood status, origin, and his parents'' names.


    Acacia accepted the offered pen, settling before Pandora to tackle the documentation. He opted for the simplest, most verifiable answers possible within their fabricated narrative. The questionnaire demanded basic details: name, birthday, subjecthood status, origin, parental information.


    Pandora handled the sections about her own information while Acacia focused on his portion:


    Acacia Belmont. Born: October 23rd, 402 E.V. Age: 15. Sex: Male.


    Status: Commoner. Birthplace: Eichenstadt, Wallachia.


    The remaining questions about occupation and relations seemed almost trivial in comparison to those fundamental declarations of identity.


    "This should conclude today''s business, Lady Kircheisen. Thank you for your visit and please keep me informed of any developments." Christoff''s smile had regained its professional warmth. "And Acacia Belmont," he turned, expression softening further, "I must apologize for my initial reservations. I''m ashamed to admit I judged you by appearance alone. I feared you might be one of those inbred monkeys from the Sugoroku Empire. Learning of your Wallachian heritage changes everything¡ªit makes perfect sense now. May the Convergence in the Lord''s essence guide your path forward."


    Acacia wanted to point out how idiotic the man¡¯s bigotry was, but he decided against it. Not only was he offering him the benefit of the doubt, but he seemed to genuinely believe the fabricated story that the two created. He couldn¡¯t risk disbelief. Not now. Not ever. Even if it meant sucking up to the established order, he needed to stay on their good side.


    "I try to stay away from politics," he shrugged. "Though I''ve had plenty of people question my features, wondering where I''m ''actually'' from. I usually attribute it to recessive genes or something similar." The fabrication left a sour taste, but his expression betrayed nothing.


    Christoff chuckled as he was oblivious to the deception. "Quite the genetic curiosity indeed. Now then, here''s the document ready for my seal. Please have it stamped and validated at the front office."


    "Thank you very much, Mr. Maximus." They exchanged final handshakes, the bureaucratic dance complete.


    "The pleasure was all mine. I trust Windsor will prove welcoming."


    Christoff held the door as they exited, leaving them to navigate back toward the government office''s front desk.


    Pandora cast him a sideways glance, nodding almost imperceptibly, a gesture that spoke volumes about his performance. Yet she maintained her silence. Were her hands bound? The employee at Seven Shades Technology had mentioned invisible security systems¡ª[Bounded Fields]¡ªprotecting important buildings. If a mere tech store warranted such protection, surely the City Hall would be even more heavily guarded.


    Essentially, Pandora couldn¡¯t talk freely, and not only that, they couldn¡¯t do anything even the slightest bit deceptive as long as they were in the building. The nod was also to signal him to remain vigilant and keep his breathing and movements normal. He could understand at least that much.


    The duo made their way to the now-empty lobby, discreetly submitting the paperwork for processing in both Imperial and Provincial Systems.


    "He''s not the smartest cookie in the jar, but he''s got good intuition." She commented as soon as they left the building and Bounded Field. "You need to be careful about him. Don''t tell him or anyone anything about your true past, or god forbid, inability to use Thaumaturgy. Just stick to the story and you should be fine."


    Acacia glanced up at the woman before the duo continued on their way, his body feeling the residual effects from all of the running they did this morning.


    "The problem is, I can''t even comprehend how to fake having powers. It''s nonsensical. Being an Irregular means my body physically can''t control Prana¡ªlike some genetic defect. You all talk about Thaumaturgy like it''s as simple as tying shoes, but my laces are literally burnt away."


    Pandora rolled her eyes.


    "Oh yes, what an impossible burden. Why don''t you take a nice nap? Or perhaps enjoy some tea at a local caf¨¦? I''ll even offer my lap as a pillow." Sarcasm dripped from her words.


    Acacia sighed, releasing the issue with a measured breath. He knew it wasn''t Pandora''s fault he was born defective, and arguing about it was like asking a blind person to describe colors. It was an exercise in futility.


    "Well, if you don''t want me to talk about it, then I won''t."


    "You''re approaching this from entirely the wrong angle. Perhaps in Ocarina, where violence lurked around every corner, you needed to fight to prove yourself. Windsor operates differently. More refinement, less brutality. You must avoid situations that could compromise you. No matter how prepared you are for conflict, avoiding it entirely is always the superior strategy. It''s precisely because you''re an Irregular that you must master avoidance. I''m surprised you haven''t learned this already in that cesspool you escaped from."


    Acacia''s sharp glare met hers. Was she patronizing him? He''d always been strategic about his confrontations, and now she was painting him as some mindless brawler?!


    ¡°I know how to handle myself, thank you very much.¡±


    "You''re remarkably defensive," Pandora observed coolly. "You''re sharp, I''ll grant you that. But you have an unfortunate tendency to act without thinking at the worst possible moments. When that happens, it''s like watching someone release a bear from its cage¡ªthe results are never pretty."


    She raised her hands frustratingly.


    "This isn''t a lecture. It''s preservation. We still don''t know Cagliostro''s next move. If you become Windsor''s latest sensation, this entire identity-erasure plan becomes worthless. Frankly, I''m not certain I can counter whatever absurdity he might attempt if he tracks us here."


    Was she actually trying to give him a pep talk? He wasn''t exactly expecting the response, but it was certainly a surprise.


    "Keep your head down. Stay invisible. Don''t attempt anything heroic or selfless that might draw attention." She paused, face hardening. "Not that I particularly care. Your survival is no longer my responsibility if your actions lead him to you." She stopped walking, turning to face him directly as the intensity of her gaze made him step back. "But you''d be doing me an enormous favor by avoiding unnecessary attention. I''d prefer not to see all my effort in saving your sorry existence go to waste."


    She was right. This had transcended his personal struggle. His actions now affected them both.


    He''d endangered her life and career the moment he''d begged for help with the execution.


    Because he continued to live, people around him would suffer.


    "I understand," he whispered, voice small.


    "Good." She resumed walking.


    After a few moments of weighted silence, Acacia spoke barely above a whisper. "Do you think... Gio''s dad knows I''m here?"


    "It''s difficult to determine," Pandora replied. "As patriarch of a San Corona Noble Family, he wields considerable wealth and connections. As I mentioned, our escape effectively broke the Ocarina IPA''s resolve to pursue the case. With justice for Giovanni now falling under his personal jurisdiction, he can direct his resources toward less savory channels. Hitmen and assassins¡ªthough banned by federal law¡ªare certainly within his reach now."


    Acacia audibly gulped, unable to get rid of the shaky feeling of waking up from his slumber to see an assassin slit his throat with Wind Thaumaturgy.


    ¡°We¡¯ve managed to misdirect him, but he can surely get back on track if he hires experienced criminal syndicates like Laughing Crown, the Bloodhounds, or¡ªworst-case scenario¡ªTrident. Groups like these are forces that even elude us Inquisitors. While it''s documented that Pandora Kircheisen resides in Windsor, Mercutio vanished after World War III. Everything depends on whether he can connect those identities. If not, which seems likely, you''re relatively safe. But if he makes that connection¡­¡±


    "We''d be in serious trouble," Acacia concluded.


    "Indeed." Pandora sighed. "But we''ll discuss this further tonight." She stopped before an imposing department building across from City Hall, the Tachyon Coat of Arms prominently displayed above "Windsor Investigation Department." Through the windows, Acacia glimpsed professionals and detectives at work.


    So this was the domain of the famed High Inquisitor.


    "Time for work," she said, glancing down at him. "My office is here. Given my recent absence for your case, I''m uncertain when I''ll finish today. You have the spare key I gave you this morning."


    "Should I head home then?" Acacia asked, uncertain about spending hours alone in an empty house.


    "If you wish. Though I had something else in mind." She pressed a handful of Stella Domina coins into his palm.


    "Oh?" His face remained blank for a moment before enthusiasm sparked in his eyes. "Is it something I can participate in? It doesn¡¯t have to be exciting¡­I''m just not one for sitting idle in an empty house for hours."


    A faint smile touched Pandora''s lips, carrying wisdom and mystery in equal measure. Acacia found himself suddenly, sharply aware that he stood before one of World War III''s legendary heroes. This wasn''t simply a young woman with an unexpectedly generous heart. This was Mercutio, Lord of Mercury, whose command of quicksilver had decimated entire enemy squadrons in the Eastern Theater.


    "Explore Windsor," she said simply. "Memorize every store, passage, building, and corner. It will prove useful sooner than you might think."


    "I can''t memorize everything!" Acacia gawked.


    Pandora shrugged. "That''s fine, it''s not the most important thing. I''m sure you''ll know the important details well enough, anyway. Just be careful where you wander, and make sure to be back before 8PM, when the sun starts to set. You''re free to do anything that doesn''t draw much attention to you nor exposes your identity as an Irregular."


    "Alright," Acacia sighed. He struggled to find the right words. Pandora had shifted from cold calculator to protective guardian, and the transformation left him unbalanced. It was strange to see her cycle through so many roles: Inquisitor, veteran Thaumaturge, and now this guardian figure. But life, he was learning, rarely followed predictable patterns.


    She sighed once more, offering a farewell wave tinged with knowing concern. "Have fun. Try not to die."


    "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He waved back casually, moving past the Investigation Department.


    A memory map. She''s right about its utility if Gio''s dad and his associates come hunting. But is it truly safe to wander Windsor alone?


    He wondered for a moment¡ªinsignificant in juncture¡ªbefore dismissing the idea and heading out onto the streets.

 Chapter 18 - Respite (III)

    <h2 style="text-align: center">[Volume 1 | Chapter 18: Respite (III)]</h2>


    Hours later, Acacia collapsed onto a park bench as dusk approached, exhaustion finally catching up to him. The morning''s rush combined with hours of urban exploration had drained his reserves. He''d investigated local shops, downtown areas, the riverside, and residential districts, building a mental map of Windsor''s layout. Nothing particularly noteworthy had occurred¡ªsave for accidentally barging in on an young couple, much to his mortification¡ªbut he''d managed to survey roughly sixty percent of the city. The more significant landmarks like the Windmill Valleys and outskirts remained unexplored, deemed too time-consuming for a single day''s reconnaissance.


    The northeastern accent of Orion¡ªWindsor''s province¡ªhad proven surprisingly simple to emulate, perhaps because it represented the "neutral" dialect favored by popular media and official functions, sharing this status with Solaria''s slight southern drawl. Orion''s impressive expanse, encompassing over 50 cities, made its accent nearly ubiquitous. To the west lay Pendragon, the Central Province housing the Royal Capital, where speech patterns took on a more pompous, regal quality. While equally prestigious, the Pendragon accent demanded perfect execution as a single slip could spell social catastrophe.


    I suppose Windsor isn''t so terrible after all, Acacia mused, drinking in the riverside park''s serene beauty. A gentle breeze carried the promise of evening as he basked in the sunset''s warm orange glow.


    He checked his SST Mark I: 7:42 PM displayed in aesthetic digits.


    "Should head back soon," he murmured, stretching in preparation to rise from the bench. Suddenly, orange light flashed across his vision, vanishing before his mind could process it. A second flash followed, more intense than the first, then a third until the color consumed his sight entirely.


    The sound registered a heartbeat later, nearly rupturing his eardrums.


    He knew this rhythm.


    The distinctive percussion of rapid-fire [Fiammas]¡ªThaumaturgy¡¯s answer to conventional artillery.


    Acacia leapt from the bench. His heart hammered against his ribs, but he swallowed the urge to cry out. Drawing attention now would only alert whatever¡ªor whoever¡ªhad unleashed that devastating barrage. If this wasn''t merely an angry subject¡¯s outburst, the consequences of discovery could prove fatal.


    When he looked up, half the park lay in ruins. Charred trees smoldered in their craters while impact zones the size of carriages replaced the once-pristine grass fields along the riverside.


    Oh crap¡­


    Crap. Crap. Crap.


    What the hell?!


    "Stop running, Elias!" An unfamiliar voice thundered through the destruction, its owner audibly winded. Despite the name not belonging to him, Acacia turned back. His eyes widened at the sight of a young man in rich attire, curly blue hair immaculate despite the chaos, his face contorting with barely contained fury. Though he appeared close to Acacia''s age, he paid the Irregular no attention. Instead, his gaze fixed on the debris field he''d created, waiting for the dust to settle.


    Was this person talking to him? Did he know him? Who was Elias? Acacia looked at the young man, unblinking and speechless.


    "Where are you hiding, you worm?!" The blue-haired youth stomped the ground, scanning his surroundings like a predator as he ignored Acacia''s presence entirely.


    "For the Emperor''s sake, it''s been over an hour!" A figure emerged from the settling debris, revealing choppy brown hair and an expression of profound irritation. "Can''t you just accept reality and move on? Your mommy and daddy wouldn''t approve of you demolishing public parks, would they, Alaric?!"


    "You¡ª!" The blue-haired boy''s rage faltered, replaced by genuine shock. "H-How do you know my name?!"


    "How do I know your name?!" The brown-haired boy¡ªElias¡ªgaped in disbelief. "Maybe because you and your two stooges terrorize the city every other day?! Did that possibly cross your mind?! Speaking of those idiots, have you finally ditched them? I''d love to beat some sense into you one-on-one!"


    "Heh, as if those fools were ever useful," Alaric sneered. "I gave them purpose! Without me, they''d be as worthless as Irregulars! Or have you forgotten the power of the House of Ptolemy?!"


    The atmosphere shifted like a detonating bomb. After whispering a brief incantation, Elias''s prana erupted, raw power distorting the air around him. In the space of a heartbeat, he crossed the five-meter gap between them. Before Alaric could blink, Elias''s hand locked around his throat, the other fist cocked back and crackling with barely contained energy.


    "Shut your mouth, clown!" Elias roared, fingers digging into Alaric''s windpipe.


    ¡°Stop!¡±


    Acacia''s own voice shocked him as it echoed across the ruined park. He couldn''t believe what he''d just done.


    Why did I interfere?!


    No, he knew exactly why he''d intervened. Pandora''s words echoed in his mind (a bastardization of such, but nevertheless), not everything required violence. Some situations could be resolved without brutality and Thaumaturgy, even if peaceful intervention risked backfiring spectacularly. His interruption had achieved its goal; both combatants had frozen in place. Their shock at his sudden appearance, having seemingly materialized from nowhere, gave him the opening he needed.


    "I recorded everything," Acacia stated, his voice steady as he held up his cellphone. Each word carried deliberate weight as he continued, "I don''t understand what''s happening here, but if this doesn''t end now, I''m contacting authorities. Would you like to test whether I''m bluffing?"


    Alaric remained silent, struggling against Elias''s iron grip. The reality of Acacia''s threat visibly unsettled him. Though Elias''s hold loosened unconsciously, he maintained his advantage.


    "Who do you think you are?! I am Alaric Ptolemy, first in line to lead the House of Ptolemy!" Alaric finally managed, gasping for air.


    "Very well, Ptolemy." Acacia''s gaze hardened. "Then let me be absolutely clear: either this stops now, or this recording reaches both the local IPA and your family. Based on your earlier confessions, I imagine the rumors would spread quickly through Windsor and Orion. Property destruction and gang activity carry serious sentences. Would you risk tarnishing the Ptolemy name over this?"


    Acacia was confident. The recording gave him leverage, and even someone as hot-headed as Alaric couldn''t ignore such concrete evidence. His previous bravado wavered. He exchanged a long look with Elias, some silent communication passing between them before Elias released his grip. Alaric then collapsed, coughing violently as he fought to breathe through the smoke and aftermath of near-strangulation.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Cunning rat..." Alaric wheezed as he struggled to his feet. "Don''t think this ends here! My father will hear of this! You''ll regret making an enemy of Alaric Ptolemy!" He attempted to storm off with dignity, though his dramatic exit suffered somewhat from his continued coughing.


    He''s just like Gio... Acacia thought wearily, wondering how he''d managed to encounter what seemed to be his former tormentor''s spiritual successor.


    He and Elias shared a brief look before shrugging in mutual resignation.


    "Thanks for playing along," Acacia offered.


    "No need for thanks. He''s no friend of mine, and I certainly didn''t help you for his sake!" Elias''s brilliant smile seemed incongruous after such intensity as if the previous violence had never occurred.


    Acacia stared blankly at him, uncertain whether Elias had suffered a concussion or if this was simply his natural demeanor.


    "Right... I''ll remember that..."


    Elias chuckled at his response, but Acacia''s attention remained fixed on the direction Alaric had taken. The noble''s parting threat echoed in his mind. Just how much influence did the Ptolemy family wield? Had he made the worst possible enemy? He cursed himself in a foreign tongue for getting involved, even as he recognized the futility of second-guessing his choices now.


    "Hey," Elias''s voice cut through his ruminations. "Why did you stop me? I could have handled it."


    "I don''t doubt your capabilities now, but letting him destroy public property serves no purpose. I''m rather fond of this place." Acacia raised an eyebrow. "Besides, I doubt he has enough funds to repair the park every time he decides to throw a tantrum."


    "You''re new here, aren''t you?"


    "What gave it away?"


    "The fact you''d dare to record a Ptolemy was my first clue." Elias''s expression shifted as he absently rubbed his neck. "No one typically risks antagonizing that family. They''re wealthy, powerful, and their influence runs deep in these parts. Lesser Nobility, technically, but there are whispers they might be considered for promotion if certain pieces fall into place..."


    Acacia''s expression went blank as the full weight of Pandora''s earlier warning crashed over him. He''d done exactly what she''d cautioned against.


    "Ah¡­ then why engage him in combat?" he sweatdropped.


    "Because I won''t stand by while they act like they''re above the law. Alaric and his cronies are just spoiled brats with too much time and power at their disposal." Elias shook his head before suddenly straightening. "Wait, where are my manners? I haven''t even introduced myself properly!" He pressed a hand to his chest in an almost military gesture as he stepped forward.


    "I''m Elias Scryer¡ªson of the Scryer family. We''re not nobles, but we manage well enough." He extended his hand, which Acacia accepted after a moment''s hesitation.


    This guy... Acacia found himself studying the young man more carefully. Even from an objective standpoint, Elias cut an impressive figure. Brown hair framed mint green eyes that sparked with life, his tall frame carrying an athlete''s build. His face could have graced magazine covers, unmarred by any imperfection. The overall effect was almost unsettling in its perfection.


    Had he really just spent several seconds admiring another man''s appearance?


    "I''m an aspiring knight of the Imperial Legion, and despite my commoner status, I''ll be attending Vanguard this fall!" Pride radiated from every word, his confidence so genuine that Acacia almost missed the way his forearm muscles tensed beneath his sleeve.


    "Vanguard University? You''re attending the most prestigious school in the Empire¡ªno scratch that¡ªin the world?!"


    "Of course! I''ve worked myself to the bone for this opportunity. Like I said, my dream is to become a knight!"


    "Is that why Alaric attacked you? Because you earned acceptance while he didn''t?" Acacia''s mind quickly clicked the pieces into place. "His father being the family patriarch, was he trying to prove himself worthy of inheritance by defeating you?"


    "Wait, no, no! I mean..." Elias quickly explained. "He tried to steal my spot! He came up to me and was like, ''You won''t enjoy it there because you''re not noble and rich like me!'' He also threatened to make my family''s life a living hell if I don''t give up my spot. That really pissed me off, so I told him to screw off. Then it resulted in this wild goose chase¡­¡±


    Elias pointed to the half-destroyed park and smoldering trees. "He even brought his two head honcho knuckleheads! He was really trying to kill me, I¡¯m telling you!"


    Acacia marveled at how casually Elias discussed attempted murder over school enrollment. He''d heard Vanguard represented one of the Tachyon Empire''s crowning achievements in education and prestige, but was it truly worth killing someone over?


    "Did they manage to hurt you?" Acacia sighed, scanning Elias''s form again. He expected to find bruises and lacerations, but the other young man''s skin remained unmarked. If anything, his muscles appeared more pronounced than before, as if combat itself enhanced some inherent trait of the Scryer bloodline.


    I wonder what his sister looks like. A demented thought came to Irregular¡¯s head before he squashed it immediately.


    "Not a scratch. See, Alaric has natural talent, but he never trains. He forgets proper Arias and Integration Sequences in the heat of moment. His technique is sloppy and inefficient. That''s the problem with most nobles¡ªthey have the knowledge and talent but zero discipline and battle sense. His backup dancers had slightly more training but even less talent. That''s why I prevailed."


    "Interesting," Acacia exhaled. "Strange to see a Thaumaturge who doesn''t rely solely on Thaumaturgy. Is that unusual?"


    Elias scratched his neck, gaze drifting away. "Yeah... Most people are Thaumaturges, so they default to spells with maybe a few desperate punches thrown in. That''s the norm. I''m probably the weird one for focusing on hand-to-hand combat."


    Acacia chuckled at the irony, though it didn''t lift his mood.


    Pandora never mentioned this aspect. Must not have seemed relevant in her mind. Just perfect...


    "I see..." He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache building.


    "Wait! Who are you?!" Elias suddenly exclaimed before catching himself. "I mean¡ªmy apologies! I never caught your name!"


    "Acacia Belmont. As mentioned, I''m new here, originally from the Wallachian Empire." He met Elias''s gaze steadily. "A pleasure to meet you, Elias Scryer."


    "Yeah, great to meet you too, Acacia!" Elias''s grin widened as they shook hands again with matching firmness. "I''ve never met anyone from Wallachia before! I''ve been especially curious since¡ª" His expression fell, enthusiasm dimming.


    Ah, right. I''m supposed to be traumatized by the Annerose Incident. Acacia quickly recalled his fabricated past, adapting his response.


    "Since what happened there." He manufactured a sad smile to mask his actual emotional detachment. It wasn''t that he felt nothing about the massacre¡ªrather, he maintained distance from a tragedy that wasn''t truly his. After all, he felt undeserving of mourning for those he didn¡¯t even know the names of.


    Elias, however, interpreted the expression exactly as intended.


    "Hey, we''re friends now, so we can create better memories together!" Elias declared, his smile blazing like a star.


    "When exactly did I agree to friendship?" Acacia smirked as a slight blush colored the aspiring knight''s cheeks.


    "T-That''s not important! We''re going to be good friends!" Elias insisted before collecting himself. "Well, you better be. We''ll see plenty of each other before I leave for Magnolia, and getting to know someone from Wallachia would be incredible, right?"


    Acacia offered a blank nod.


    "I should head out though. Got to help my mom and the others with the park''s reconstruction tomorrow. She''s an environmental scientist... she''ll be furious about this." He sweatdropped before quickly sharing contact information and dashing away. "See you around, Acacia!" His voice carried back as he vanished into the growing darkness.


    Something in Elias''s final words caught Acacia''s attention.


    Why did you just lie? He wondered. The deception had been clear in Elias''s eyes and expression¡ªwhatever he''d said about his mother was completely fabricated. Still, Acacia dismissed the observation. He had no right to probe another family''s private matters.


    "Well... at least I have somewhere to be..." Acacia murmured. His gaze drifted to where Alaric and his thugs had been, but the noble had long since departed along with Elias. He checked his phone again.


    8:17 PM.


    Crap¡­


    He could only pray that Pandora was a merciful woman.