At this time of the day, with a dark sky full of gray clouds, turning on the lights would only be natural. But not one out of the eighteen-odd in the residence, ranging from as old as thirty-nine to as young as fourteen years of age, dared speak up or even look at the switch.

  Not while Javier, the Unmasked criminal better known as Hellbound, remained satisfied. His large frame sat relaxedly on the couch, back straight up and right hand holding a novella he was about two thirds done with. Only one eye trailed across the page’s contents, as the other was covered with a padded medical eyepatch.

  The living room, much like the house it belonged to, was very spacious. Even if it had not been cleared up in anticipation of today’s event, eighteen people were nothing near the amount needed for it to feel cramped. Despite that, they had chosen to stick to one general direction, leaving much space in disuse.

  Javier did not think of this as anything unusual. Some of these people wore hoodies, others had gone for headbands or even rings. One had what appeared to be a sort of traditional face paint. All sharing the same purple color in only mildly differing shades. Violet Thorn members indeed, all of them beyond the basic level, so they did not meet often aside from taking cuts. Let alone waited alongside him for this long.

  He only stopped reading once he saw his workers separating in a panic, hurriedly making way for something.

  It was a leg. A lone leg, shin and foot without even the knee, had parted the scarce sea of people. But the disembodied appendage continued to move with eerie ease.

  As it did, stepping forward so normally, its corresponding knee came into sight. Visibility was not the best, but it was not like it was hidden, instead manifesting from thin air like a mirage.

  A second boot-covered foot stepped forth, shin and knee continuing an uncannily natural stride. Hips, waist, a torso and arms ending in bandaged hands appeared in the same manner, like the world itself was a filter obscuring the man, gradually unraveling to reveal the reality underneath.

  “Wildcard just said she’s good on her end. She wants more time to ‘have fun’, though.” His strong-jawed face coming into view last, Alain spoke to Javier and waved at the surrounding Thorns.

  Well, ain’t that a surprise.

  The man himself shifted his brow in the slightest of ways, to a degree that not even Alain should have noticed, let alone the workers.

  The parasite within him did not speak on its own often, usually doing so to mock or in some odd sense of shock. Never for something that actually deserved a response, distracting as it was.

  “There’s no problem with that. She’s dealing with two enemies, including one who could have been a real issue. We can think of it as her contribution in advance, so it’s fine if she joins in later. What about the Scar-Tail’s dealer?”

  Alain’s expression became ominous on Javier’s question, causing more than one Thorn to draw back.

  “I left the matter with the rat to Miasma. He had his fill, so the body should be rotting by some alley now. Miasma’s people are waiting by the Circine building, while mine are hanging with Wildcard’s around the Becquerel. So, what now?”

  Javier let out an almost inaudible sigh of disappointment as he closed the small book. He put it aside on the wide couch, and then stood up.

  “Our providers answered ten minutes ago.”

  A thick and strong hand approached his eyepatch. A finger slid under the band holding it, and Alain’s smirk returned.

  “Perfect.”

  Javier’s eye was laid bare, and every Thorn in the room broke out in uncontrollable, visceral shivers. Fear? Revulsion? Certainly the case for most of them. But for a few, it was something completely different. Not even excitement, but admiration.

  From backpacks, guitar cases, waistbands and improvised holsters, all manner of tools were unfurled. A sword and a spear, clawed gloves, a staff that seemed to constantly change shape, arm braces with three barrels each. Some of the Thorns even had more than one, with no lack in terms of guns.

  But on Javier’s end, the eye that had been revealed exceeded all that. It might have been crystal or might have been bone, but the orb of deep violet held little resemblance to what had once been a human organ. The alien material shone like white-hot metal and now extended further into the upper left of Javier’s skull, piercing through his skin and turning him into more.

  And the Thorns could see, whether as a dream or nightmare come to life, as the crystalline growth swelled in overlapping, randomly directed spikes. With each second that passed, a warped sort of horn sprouted to life.

  “We’re off.”

  A budding king of hell commanded.

  “You take really long to eat.” Max said in a surprisingly non-accusatory way, laying his head down on his crossed arms.

  “I just want to enjoy it, come on.” Hildegard replied as she bit on another morsel of her dinner. Although, considering its size, it was weird to even consider it that.

  Even so, the taste of veal wrapped around thin ham and melted cheese was as wonderful as always. No matter how small the cut, this dish was always the best.

  “Isn’t there any food you feel like that about, Max? That you just wish would never run out?” The regret was almost cartoonishly obvious in her eyes and voice. Even at the glacial pace she ate, only two or three bites remained.

  Max abandoned his previous position, stretching his arms onto the table as he leaned back on the chair, legs slowly kicking below.

  “Not really. I got so much white chocolate from Nina’s birthday, ate it all that night and I don’t think I’ll ever like it again.”

  “That’s… alright.” From another person, Hildegard may have felt annoyed by the overly realistic reply. But from Max? She struggled to contain her laughter. “You don’t have to wait for me, though. It’s cool if you want to go play your games.”

  The boy merely shook his head, his honey-brown eyes particularly firm.

  “I want to enjoy you while you’re still here.”

  Whatever miracle had allowed Hildegard to remain calm until now vanished promptly. Her cackling was shrill, seamless and almost seemed to echo of its own, forcing her to hold her stomach out of fear for some nasty consequences.

  “Geez~! You really should mind how you talk, mister. You’ll be so popular with some, but others will just glare at you!”

  “…? Why?”

  Max tilted his head in confusion, and Hildegard could have easily laughed again.

  “Hah… Just… consider it a tip for when you get older. Don’t forget it, though.”

  “Okay? Hey, when you’re done with your food, want to watch me play?”

  The new, rather hastily spoken offer caused Hildegard’s amused mood to shift.

  “The game with the spies?”

  “You can play if you like that better.” Max followed up, as if he had not heard her question. “I can teach you real quick, and it’s very cool. It’s not really about shooting everyone, but about being sneaky and the story is really dark so—”

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  “Hilda being here is still no excuse to ignore homework.” Isolde said from the stairs, accompanied by dry steps as she approached.

  Max’s brow furrowed and his lips went tight, his expression similar to a glare but with a somewhat different emotion.

  “It just gets you participation stuff. That’s like nothing for my grades.”

  “You kept saying that last year, and your card didn’t show that. There’s obviously something important about it.”

  The boy’s eyes seemed so heavy all of a sudden, almost somber and perhaps a little embarrassed. He brought his arms back from the table and onto the chair’s seat before hopping down.

  “… Hilda, want to help me with my homework?”

  The blonde was caught off guard by his request, but she did not have time to even ponder it before Isolde spoke again.

  “Max… You’re not the only one.”

  Her voice was still strict, still dry, but there was something more to the message itself. Max’s eyes looked visibly guilty while reluctance seemed to permeate from his every action, but no more than a few seconds passed before he walked off, almost dragging his feet over to the stairs.

  Hildegard waited for the dull sound of a door closing before speaking again.

  “Well, someone here really likes being the big sister. He just wants to have some fun, you didn’t have to put him down like that.”

  “But you won’t be able to leave unless I send him away.”

  Isolde’s quick response caught her off-guard. Hildegard was not the type to feel ‘at a loss for words’, but she still found it very difficult to say what was needed.

  “… I guess he knew that too?” Her smile had weakened since a while ago, and remembering the seven-year-old’s departure did it no favors.

  “That much is obvious.”

  “Not everyone is as sharp as you, Soldie.”

  Hildegard teased with knowing eyes as she stood up. Her plate now empty, she walked to the kitchen sink with single-minded focus.

  “The dish washer’s right there.” Isolde’s voice came closer in tandem.

  “I know.”

  Hildegard turned the faucet all the way to hot temperature and began scrubbing, first by hand, then by sponge. Steam rose quickly, blistering water splashing just beyond the sink. She noticed Isolde stopping her approach as a result.

  “Can you at least give me some details? Even if it’s just the time?”

  “… Mm, don’t expect me for breakfast tomorrow.”

  It was annoying. Having to talk about this was so much worse than the borderline boiling water turning the skin of her hands crimson.

  But Isolde insisted, stepping forth again.

  “What made you think this is necessary? There’s no way Mondi is okay with it.”

  “Hm? You thought that’s what had me in a mood?”

  It had been a full minute since Hildegard noticed any traces on the plate. She narrowed her eyes and closed the tap, feeling the cold air on her almost swollen hands as she put the plate away, then began to dry them on her long sleeves.

  “You haven’t talked to him about this!?” Isolde’s face she saw upon turning around was not one of mere confusion. Quite a bit of anger and fright had also seeped in. “Max is one thing, but how can you keep it from Mondi!?”

  “Because there’s no point to it.”

  Hildegard only caught a glimpse of Isolde’s dumbstruck expression as she walked off. Barely anything but the door past the dining table registered in her mind.

  “You’re the only one who can understand, Isolde. Even if it takes you some time.”

  “… What do you even mean?”

  Her approach was certain, but noticeably slower than before. About as much as Hildegard expected as she opened the door to an ugly, gray evening. The prana around her had reacted before she noticed.

  For an instant, Hildegard’s maroon eyes looked as crimson as a pair of rubies.

  “There’s just… so much that’s off. Nothing makes sense about the way this world runs, and yet it keeps going the same way, no matter what. Things that so many hate, propped up because they’re convenient to a few lucky ones.”

  Isolde did not respond. Even after several seconds, she remained quiet, but Hildegard had no need for an immediate reply.

  “But that doesn’t mean all the lucky ones have to play along. It hasn’t always been the case before, and it doesn’t have to be now. So long as some decide to light the necessary matches, despite the cost… Even such an order of things can collapse. I’m sure you’ve imagined that happening, but deemed it pure fantasy.”

  Hildegard raised a hand wrapped in red by her face.

  Red… Not just the scarlet haze of blood, dense prana that swirled around it. Her very skin was still throbbing, almost appearing to scream.

  It was irritating. She did not think twice before pulling a glove of black leather from her pocket, then another. The sort that were used for casual motorcycling and mechanic work.

  “To not take the opportunity when it shows itself, to turn that fantasy into reality… As one of the lucky few, wouldn’t that be the worst? A refusal to change what hurts so many, because of convenience.”

  She pulled the glove tight, then tightened her hand into a fist. The scalding feeling was drowned by a different kind of pain.

  “You don’t have to forgive me, Isolde. I just hope you, of all people, will think about this.”

  Hildegard’s voice was quiet, almost subdued. But this time, she did turn to face the girl, after refusing to for so long.

  The face she saw was hard to read, aside from a conflict between worry and resignation that seemed to suffocate her.

  The least Hildegard could do was listen to her one more time, no matter how long it took.

  “… What do I tell Mom?”

  She regretted that bit of softness almost immediately.

  One second, Hildegard turned to look forward. By the next, she had vanished in a flare of crimson.

  The ceaseless noise invaded Claude’s ears, causing his irritation to fester.

  It had reached levels even he himself considered concerning, as a fault in his judgment now or in the short term would make for severe consequences.

  But he could not help it. Even with the current emergency, he was stuck watching Kloel fiddle around the room in a painfully ineffectual manner. It was torture.

  “This is bullshit. We’re wasting so much time while not knowing how serious things could be.”

  He turned around, ready to leave this nonsense behind and start a much-needed, actual search. But Kloel was just close and fast enough to tug on his shirt before he could.

  “And you think a blind search will be any better? We don’t have a single lead to their whereabouts, not even a phone call or message. Even if you somehow found something on them, you might just walk head on into whatever’s got them all quiet!”

  Her grip became stronger with each word, lilac eyes glaring down at him. He could have brushed her off, violently pushed that hand away to take his leave without further regard, but he could not neglect a concern so blatant.

  “It would at least be something. Your way of going about this has just been to turn your apartment upside down for trinkets while I stand around doing what, exactly?”

  “Tracking takes time and attention to detail, asshole! I’d love to rush this and just get to them, but that’s not how things go! It’s not enough to just have objects they touched or used recently, the distance between us means I need items that can work as conductors and…”

  Claude still did not have it in him to keep listening to her rant.

  He managed to shake off Kloel’s grip, but did not follow into the forceful exit he had thought of before. He avoided Kloel’s gaze, instead looking at the thoroughly mangled bedroom as if it held the remedy to his powerlessness.

  Edmond’s excuses for his exit were poor, but it would be a lie to say Claude and the others were not too distracted to immediately notice the deceit. He had already left by the time they did, in an obvious rush, and Claude would have followed after him if not for Tatyana’s insistence on taking care of the issue. ‘Insistence’ meaning she had figured things out a tad before and ran off without saying anything.

  With the arrogance of that girl, it could have been that she was not as concerned about the preparations they needed for the Thorns’ assault, and thus let her attention wander enough to notice something amiss.

  … No, that was just an excuse. For how annoying and problematic Tatyana was, he had been the one to let his focus fall into tunnel vision, allowing Edmond to slip past with a flimsy excuse.

  By the time he and Kloel became aware of what had happened, there was no way to know where Tatyana had gone. An immediate pursuit was out of the question, with phone calls as the next answer.

  Edmond, of course, only carried burners on him, but Tatyana did pick up, only to not really help in any real way. She had hung up quickly after seemingly addressing Edmond, which at least meant he was safe.

  But only at the time.

  The next phone call had been quickly shut down, perhaps due to whatever conversation was going on not ending yet. But the next attempt continued onto voice mail, as well as the next one. And then, there was no call at all. No ringing, like the phone had been turned off… or something worse.

  Twenty minutes had passed since then. They had begun to take measures for the worst case scenario since much earlier, but the fact they had not reached back after all this time had all but confirmed their worrying suspicions.

  Suspicions that Claude could hardly do anything meaningful about, and if Kloel’s obvious panic in her spellcasting said anything, she was not feeling very differently.

  However, it was during that brief moment of complete silence, the result of their heated exchange, that something unusual stood out. Something that was not new, but had been masked by their frantic activity.

  That percussion from before, small noises that he had attributed to Kloel’s search for any objects that could work as conductors, was heard again. Maybe due to his increased attention, it also sounded louder.

  The elf’s own reaction all but confirmed the abnormality of the event. If anything, the way her eyes went wide and her lips remained slightly agape hinted at an even greater shock.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Kloel’s response was to brusquely push him aside and rush past, outside the room and into the corridor. Claude was so surprised he did not resist in the slightest, and only followed her after a second to group up his racing thoughts.

  The noise continued. Faster, louder and with an almost brittle quality to it.

  He saw Kloel standing near the end of the corridor for a moment, before slowly, nervously stepping back. Unlike her movements, her eyes had settled, almost frozen on the unusually thin door.

  The only door with a unique, matte knob that was shaking uncontrollably, much like the door itself.

  Claude knew something was seeping through it. He did not have to put any effort into his sensing to know the prana around them was being invaded and tinged by something different, making even him unable to take another step.

  Interest? Fright? Awe?

  He did not have time to identify what exact feeling swelled within him, not before that door splintered and burst away, revealing an utterly peerless presence.