The spiritual projections words sent a rush of anger through Aizawa, making him clench his fists. "At a time like now? I have a kid of mine to save!"

  The spiritual projection of Aizawa took a step back, looking around. At this moment, the area around them began to change. Below his feet, the snow-covered cobblestone streets dissipated, replacing themselves with marble floors. Pillars shot from the ground, and the oriel window above him quickly manifested. Now that they were in Aizawa's mindscape, the man crossed his arms looking down.

  "Did you really bring me up here just now? To everyone else I just mysteriously disappeared."

  The other Aizawa shook his head, smiling. "To the others, you have disappeared, but they're under the influence that you never left... they're mentally confused until you descend again."

  "Oh..." Aizawa fell silent, running a hand through his hair. Just then, he asked a question.

  "What do you need to talk about? I have an organization looking to arrest a kid I know."

  "Well, about the organization." Aizawa's spirit body smiled even brighter.

  "What about them?"

  The other man clad in purple and white robes took a deep breath, stepping back. "The Pollinators who want to arrest and execute your friend are very dangerous; your friends can't take them out."

  "I mean, they all have firearms; it was obvious from the beginning."

  The other Aizawa clicked his tongue. "Exaclty."

  "The only Seekers in your group—Ayumi and Shinso—are either off somewhere else or in critical condition."

  Aizawa recalled their statuses. Shinso was out with a Pollinator, while Ayumi was ill. At this moment, Aizawa seemed to catch the drift of his variant, looking up at him.

  "You want me to go to the cathedral and steal a potion, don't you?"

  "There's no time for that. What I need you to do is just trust your instincts. After all, you're very keen and survivalist, right?"

  Hearing those words, Aizawa groaned. "You want me to trust my instincts against opponents wielding guns? They don't have quirks, so I can't nullify them, and I don't have my binding cloth."

  "You do, you just have to trust your instincts."

  "Again with that stuff? I know my instincts are keen, but why would I trust myself to have an object stranded in an alternate reality?"

  The other Aizawa drifted a little closer, flipping upside down and gazing at his counterpart. "In this world, instinct is a driving force for survival. Under normal circumstances, survival of the fittest is the best term to describe it. But now, survival of the smartest would benefit this situation."

  At this moment, Aizawa watched as illusory strands of white and purple energy descended from nowhere, taking the form of something long and thin, reminiscent of a rolled-out piece of toilet paper. It was flexible, made of a durable cloth suitable for fighting. It was none other than Aizawa's binding cloth, in spiritual form!

  "What... how did—" Aizawa was cut short when his spiritual body pointed down at the object, which began to squirm and writhe .

  Suddenly, countless pairs of eyes protruded from the cloth, gazing directly at Aizawa. An illusory, layered, and complicated voice sounded in his mind.

  "You're my master, aren't you?"

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  "What?" Aizawa asked, his voice filled with puzzlement. His brows furrowed as he kneeled, picking up the illusory cloth with one hand.

  "I'm your Spiritual Creature."

  "S-Spirit Creature, like Isaac's?"

  The cloth blinked its eyes. "The only difference is that I can be used in the real world, and I can change my appearance as such. For your convenience, I took the form of this binding cloth."

  "That's... nice of you." Aizawa initially didn't know how to respond, but the warm gesture from the vague creature before him set him off quite a bit.

  "Isaac?" the cloth repeated that name under its breath.

  Hearing this murmur, Aizawa arched an eyebrow. "Do you know him or something?"

  The cloth blinked again and replied. "He's in grave danger; I recommend helping him now."

  "H-how do you know that? Did you just read my thoughts?"

  The cloth's countless eyes spun in numerous directions. "No, Umbridge told me."

  "U-Umbridge?" Aizawa repeated.

  "He's a friend of mine, and Isaac's Spirit Creature. Now go, your friend needs you."

  As Aizawa descended from his Mindscape, everyone seemed to regain their sense of direction, all looking to him. It only took them a brief moment to realize the task at hand, and they all set off, not wasting a moment of time.

  ...

  "If you sit over there, we can offer you quite the handsome massage." Abram pointed to the corner, where a handsome young man knelt beside a comfortable looking chair.

  The room around us was dimly lit, ebbing an aura of comfortability and safety. Countless candles lined the walls, all smelling of numerous fragrances and aromas that blended seamlessly, giving one's nose a delectable treat.

  Other young men were in the room, either playing a game of cards or absentmindedly reading the newspaper. The moment they all saw me, something in their expressions changed. My body habitually stiffened, as if preparing for unseen danger. The sigil on my forehead burnt ever so slightly, barely radiating any light.

  Abram sat down in an armchair facing the window, clasping a hand on the left armrest whilst he smiled, diving his other hand into a pocket and taking out a cigarette, bringing it to his lips as he lit it with a kerosene lamp posted on the wall. The eccentric man remained silent, puffing a small stream of smoke into the air before speaking in a low voice.

  "We'll need to lock the door; this interaction is to be heavily monitored."

  Two of the men in the room silently stood up, making their way to the wooden door and locking it. Now that no one could enter the room on the top floor, Abram peeked over the head of the chair and smiled, his eyes glinting in the dim lighting of the crimson moon that began to peek over the mountains.

  "This job is something I trust few people with; that's what makes it so special. Ever so often, we need someone to inspect the chimney of this building."

  Hearing this proposition, I felt my stomach knot slightly. "B-but you don't own this building."

  Abram nodded his head. "But shouldn't a good neighbor be there for anyone who needs help? Me and my friends are helpers; we want to make this kingdom a better place."

  "By cleaning chimneys?" I arched an eyebrow.

  In the corner of my eyes, I saw Kael's hand slowly moving inch by inch into his jacket, to the pocket that kept the gun inside. A slow, clammy sweat slowly ran down my brow as my seemingly confident smile twitched. I wanted to make myself look bigger, but the sheer presence of men in this room—men who could tear me to shreds with a pinkie finger—made any positive emotions crumble like a century-old document.

  Abram abruptly stood up from his chair, smiling as he nodded his head. "Indeed. Perhaps..."

  He took a hold of the horns on my head. "You can use these little things to help scrape the grime in between the bricks."

  "Please don't touch those." Kael, who had remained silent for the most part, spoke up. His crimson eyes pierced into Abrams, reflecting the light of the crimson moon within them.

  "Oh, my apologies." The man let go of my horns, taking a step back as he raised his arms in mock defensiveness.

  Suddenly, Kael leaned in closer whispering in my ear. "If you're not an idiot, you'd know this bastard is tricking you. If he really is a supremacist, he'd chuck you down the chute and watch you burn to a crisp."

  I felt my hands turn icy and numb as a cold chill ran over me. Kael and I watched as Abram approached a small doorway in the corner of the room. It was square in shape, with a handle jutting out from the wooden frame. When he opened it, all I saw was a dark tunnel that led upwards. The man turned to me, smiling as he stepped aside, revealing countless tools I could use.

  Among them was a metallic object with a small, pointed end. Its handle was made of rusted metal, a testament to its long line of usage. Beside it was another tool, a small knife-like object with an almost round blade. Its hilt had a hook at the end of it so one could strap it to a utility belt. The last tool was larger than the others, it was a small, dust-covered brush and pan. I could tell it was used for gathering dust and disposing of it.

  Just then, a thought crossed my mind—I couldn't help but laugh internally. These men took me for a fool! Even if Kael had already told me about Abram's intentions, the myriad of tools before me had no correlation to the current job I was assigned to. Why would I need a duster and a pan if all the dust would fall down, being incinerated by the flames below? Aside from that, I had no idea what the other tools would be used for.

  At this moment, I took a deep breath and stood up, walking over to the small shaft and peering inside. "You'd like me to clean the dust inside here?"

  Abram nodded his head. "I'll give you enough cash to feed your family for a week—maybe a month if you polish it on top of that."

  My entire body froze the second I felt Abram's chillingly cold hand grace the back of my neck. He began to exert force, gradually pushing my body into the chute. My internal panic button was pressed at rapid speeds, prompting me to act just in time. My vision turned a blood-red color, and I spotted Abram's genital reigon—it was glowing a bright red through his pants.

  This was Chaos Instinct activating, well... instinctively.

  "Don't touch me," I let out a low growl, trying my hardest to remain as collected as I could. The last thing I wanted to happen was another incident like at the agency.

  Suddenly, Abram's grip around my neck tightened to a painful extent, cutting off air from entering my throat. "If you won't do your job, perhaps I can hire someone else to clean your guts from the fireplace."

  Bang, bang, bang!

  Three shots rang through the air. The center of Abram's forehead had been pierced in succession by Kael's bullets. A small spout of crimson blood shot from the hole as the man fell backwards, his eyes rolling back in his head.

  "Come out with your hands up and I assure you'll face no harm!"

  A gruff, deep voice called from behind the door. I recognized this voice very briefly from the Demon Maggot incident...Captain Silas.

  My body froze entirely, my limbs going so numb it felt painful to even blink. Kael lowered his gun, looking at the others in the room. They had all tensed, but their expressions all changed. Reaching into their coats, they all collectively pulled out firearms.