The air inside the old warehouse was thick with the scent of rust and decay. Dust floated lazily through narrow beams of light seeping in from the cracked ceiling. The ground was covered in a thin layer of ash and dirt, and the faint dripping of water from rusted pipes echoed like a slow heartbeat.
Artina stepped inside, her golden hair gleaming faintly under the dim light. Each step stirred the dust beneath her boots, announcing her arrival. Her golden eyes glowed sharply, filled with focus and resolve.
Artina: "Show me what you've got, thief."
Lorth stood in the shadows, leaning against a slanted column, a smirk playing across his face. The air around him rippled faintly from the energy radiating off his weapon.
Lorth: "That's a harsh way to greet a man like me."
Artina: "Save your breath."
Without warning, she raised her hand. Silver papers began to swirl around her, gathering speed until they formed a miniature storm. Then, like blades, they shot forward in a deadly wave toward Lorth.
He leaped backward, his movement swift and sharp. In the same instant, his weapon transformed into a massive war hammer, which he swung into the concrete wall beside him.
The impact roared like thunder. The entire warehouse shuddered as cracks split the walls and the ceiling groaned above them. Debris rained down—splintered wood, chunks of plaster, and shards of rusted metal.
Artina darted backward, narrowly avoiding the falling rubble. The dust cloud engulfed the space, and when the tremor finally faded, Lorth was gone.
A flicker of movement—he appeared behind her, emerging from the dust like a phantom. His weapon had grown larger, glowing with fiery red veins of energy.
He swung.
Artina spun around and summoned a shield of crystalline pages in front of her. The hammer struck it with a deafening crash, the impact sending a shockwave through the air. The ground beneath her cracked, and she was thrown backward, crashing hard into the floor as shards of her own defense scattered like glass.
Artina: "You really hate to lose, don't you?"
Her voice trembled slightly as she pushed herself up. Blue fire flickered from the remaining papers around her, igniting the dust-filled air. She thrust her hand forward, and the flames surged toward Lorth.
He jumped back, his weapon shifting again—this time into a colossal shield. He charged forward, stomping across the cracked concrete like an iron beast.
Artina slammed her foot down, releasing a burst of blue fire beneath her. The explosion launched her into the air. From above, she unleashed a barrage of flaming papers, striking his shoulder and setting his coat ablaze. Lorth grunted, patting out the flames with his free hand.
Artina: "Lucky for you I wasn't fully focused."
Lorth: "You talk like you've already won."
His weapon twisted again, morphing into a massive hand-cannon. The metallic hum deepened into a growl as it charged with energy.
Then he fired.
The blast ripped through the air like lightning. Artina tried to evade, but the explosion caught her side, throwing her down hard. Smoke and ash swirled around her as Lorth approached, his weapon returning to the shape of a huge sword resting on his shoulder.
Lorth: "You've got me wrong. I'm no thief."
Artina lifted her head, her hair dusted with ash, her golden eyes still sharp despite the pain.
Artina: "Then prove it."
Lorth stopped walking. He reached into his pocket and tossed a small card toward her.
Lorth: "Read it, if you can. Strange that you don't already know me."
Artina picked it up. The surface was worn but still bore the official seal of a neighboring kingdom's army. Her eyes widened slightly.
Artina: "I never thought I'd see you again."
Lorth: "And I never wanted to, either."
Artina: "So you're here… as part of your little journey?"
Lorth: "Not exactly. But yes—something like that. I've got a job to finish."
Artina: "It's about Reinheart, isn't it?"
Lorth: "How do you know that?"
Artina: "I have my ways."
In a narrow alleyway, Henry ran at full speed, his breathing ragged. The cracked walls around him flickered under broken neon lights, and the rain-slick cobblestones reflected his hurried steps.
Henry: "Finally… I made it. Someone's got to show up here soon."
Before he could take another step, a shadow dropped from above. A blade pressed coldly against his neck.
Liner: "Speak your intentions this time, pirate."
Henry froze, raising his hands slowly without turning.
Henry: "Easy there, Liner. This time, I just want your help."
Liner: "You could've said that the last time we met."
Henry: "We didn't have any real leads back then."
Liner: "Who are you after?"
Henry: "You know him by one of his names… Reinheart."
Liner's eyes narrowed.
Liner: "So you're hunting him too."
Henry: "Yeah. But not for myself—someone else sent me."
Liner: "You're chasing a man for another man. Got it."
He lowered the dagger slightly.
Liner: "Your name?"
Henry smirked faintly.
Henry: "Henry Avery. Former pirate of the Revolutionary Fleet."
The café was quiet except for the faint hum of rain outside. The soft golden lights reflected against the wet windows. Liner and Henry sat at a small table, while William stood near the couch where Lawrence lay unconscious.
Liner: "You should move him to his room before the customers show up."
Suddenly, the door burst open with a crash.
Casey: "Can someone please explain what's going on?!"
Nila: "What do you mean?"
Casey: "The butterflies! They just appeared out of nowhere!"
Nila: "Oh, those? Yeah, that's old news. Don't worry about it."
Casey: "What—old news?!"
Casper: "Even your mind needs training. I'll start with you again in two days."
Casey: "You've got to be kidding me."
William: "Anyway, why are you here, Liner?"
Liner: "I brought this idiot. He claims to have useful information about Reinheart."
William: "Then speak, Henry."
Henry: "Didn't even tell you my name, huh?"
William: "I knew the second you stepped into the city."
Henry: "Not surprised. You're as sharp as they say. Anyway, here's what I've got:
One—Reinheart isn't his real name. It's Therence Loscar.
Two—he's living in an abandoned mansion on the southern edge of the city.
Three—he's a first-tier mage, not a second-tier like everyone assumes.
Four—he rarely fights directly, relying on magical puppets for protection.
Five—and this one matters most—he's after that compass. We can set a trap."
William: "Interesting. But how do we catch him?"
Henry: "Simple. He'll send one of his puppets here for the compass, while we move to the mansion first and corner him there. He won't have a chance to escape."
William: "That's… actually a solid plan."
In the rain-soaked outskirts of the city, the blind man walked calmly, his cane tapping rhythmically against the wet stone. From between the shadows ahead, a voice echoed softly.
Hunter: "I tried to capture him… but he slipped away."
A deep, steady tone responded from the darkness.
Mysterious Figure: "That's fine, Hunter. We stick to the plan. Forget the formalities."
Hunter: "Then should I call you by your name… Phantom?"
A faint smile appeared as the figure stepped out of the shadows, his cloak fluttering with the wind.
Phantom: "That's fine. For now… let's begin the preparations."
As the rain began to pour harder, a single page covered in strange runes fluttered across the ground—its symbols glowing faintly gold before vanishing into the storm.
The real chaos was only beginning.