The Yellow Weaver didn't notice the blue lines. His world had shrunk to the pressure on his skull and the fire in his veins, every part of him straining to burn the woman who pinned him.

  Monica, however, saw them immediately.

  As the Weaver thrashed beneath her boot, her focus split. The retaliatory flames were a known and containable. This new phenomenon was not.

  Her sharp eyes tracked the electric-blue filaments engraving themselves into the cobblestones and walls, spreading with silent, alarming speed.

  Two possible killers are right in front of me. Is there more? More importantly, what is the purpose of this?

  Her mind raced, analyzing the pattern. A city-wide spell? A magic circle? Both would require someone on par with a High Mage. On the surface, it looks like it’s carrying energy. No—the energy is what flowing through it.

  As she pondered the question, she felt it coming in the very last millisecond—a surge from the ground beneath her feet.

  Her instincts screamed. She shoved off the Weaver’s face with explosive force, propelling herself backward and upward.

  Her boots left the stone just as a pillar of raw lightning erupted from the nexus of blue lines directly beneath the Yellow Weaver.

  It consumed him utterly.

  A agonized sound, lost in the electric roar, was cut short. The pillar held for three blinding seconds, painting the alley in stark, white-blue light, then vanished as suddenly as it appeared.

  Monica landed on a low rooftop, her heart a hammer against her ribs. The smell of ozone and burnt meat filled the air.

  From her perch, she heard it—a series of distant, synchronized KRAK-A-THOOM! sounds from all across Pipra. In the distance, other brief, violent flashes of the same lightning lit up the night sky.

  What is happening? A city-wide offensive spell? The thought crystallized amidst her confusion. A coordinated, magical strike of this precision was unheard of.

  Cautiously, she dropped back into the alley.

  The Weaver lay in the same spot, smoke rising from his body in thin, greasy tendrils. Heat radiated from him in waves.

  The intricate green and yellow of his tuxedo was charred black, his bird mask partially fused to his face. She observed the lack of movement in his chest. Unconscious, or possibly dead. The former would be more preferable. I still need information.

  She turned, her gaze sweeping the space where the Scholar had been forced to his knees.

  He was gone.

  Of course. The brief moment she’d spent airborne, her focus wholly on escape and defense, had broken her gravitational grip on him.

  He used that as the opening for escape. I am sure he was also attacked by the lightning, but with his abilities, he could have escaped even if injured. Where did he go? Doesn't matter, I will find them for sure no matter where he and his allies are hiding.

  As she looked farther into the alley, she realized he had also taken the two bodies he’d been carrying. Even in that state, he’d made sure to take them with him. Were they really that important to him… or had they been his target all along?

  Her priority should be pursuit. But a commander’s duty came first. She waited for two full minutes, observing the silent town and the fading glow of the blue lines, then took out her communication talisman and activated it.

  “All officers, report to me immediately. What is happening?”

  Lsaery’s voice crackled first. “Something weird has happened. Strange blue lines appeared, then some of the mobsters were electrocuted out of nowhere. They’re unconscious now. Civilians and guards are unharmed.”

  Aers chimed in, sounding strained. “Same here. I was dealing with a large group, and suddenly they’re all in this state. It seems like a targeted attack. I’m finding more of them as I check. I also saw a Red caped man running across the rooftops Twenty something minute ago before all this happened, and I also saw a woman who looked… dangerous and suspicious. I didn’t engage. As I didn’t have the full picture.”

  Sera’s voice was sharp. “Aers, you coward. Anyway, same story on my end.”

  Monica processed the information. The spell was selective. It targeted the rioters. “Understood. New orders: Arrest all incapacitated gang members. Bind them securely and take them to the town prison. Seize all weapons you find, on them or in the open.”

  A moment of silent doubt hung on the line before a unified, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Monica continued, her voice leaving no room for debate. “Also, I need to inform all of you that Officer Nosfraet was killed in a confrontation with one of the killers. I have captured one. The other one is on the run, but he should be severely injured. I believe more enemies may be in hiding.

  Now that the riot is neutralized, divide the guard force into a 70/30 formation. Thirty percent will handle prisoner transport and processing under Officer Lsaery. The remaining seventy percent will resume primary duty: protect civilians, secure the town, and conduct rescue operations.

  All high-level officers and combat-capable personnel equivalent to that rank will join the hunt for the remaining killers. Your task is to locate them, inform the Duke’s troops, and send a few guards to my position. I will be transporting Officer Nosfraet’s body and the captured killer to the main office. Meet me there once your assignments are complete.”

  Aers’s voice returned over the talisman, graver now. “About the Duke’s troops, ma’am. I received a note from Tiger. Officer Dave was left at the office. He’s severely injured, but alive. Now that Officer Nosfraet is gone too… the troop is in complete disarray.

  And from what I’ve witnessed, whoever we’re facing has… slaughtered a large number of gang members and troops. There are streets pooling with blood. Some scenes are… indescribable. I also believe there could be multiple hostiles. This is happening too quickly, and too widely, for it to be just one or two individuals.”

  Monica’s jaw tightened. “So Officer Dave is out of commission as well. That is problematic. I doubt the Duke’s troops will take our orders now. Sera, send a junior officer to inform them of the situation. Instruct them to regroup, choose a new acting commander, and coordinate with us. I’m certain they’ll refuse, but make the attempt. We need them to coordinate with us, not fracture further.”

  “Understood,” Sera replied, her tone all business.

  Aers spoke again. “While we’re on this, does anyone have eyes on Count Loren’s knights? Has anyone seen them doing anything?”

  Monica’s senses sharpened. “Why? Is there a problem?”

  “Not a direct one,” Aers said. “It’s just… during my sweep, my men found something. A cocoon-like structure, weird, dissolving. Two of the knights were inside it. The report just came in. Should I send them to the office as well, or leave them? I don’t know if they’re alive or… what.”

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  “Send them,” Monica ordered without hesitation. “At best, they can be questioned. At worst, they’re evidence for an autopsy. Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen any of those knights either. Find them, inform them of the situation if they’re functional, or leave them be for now. We’ll report casualties later. For now, stay away from other faction business. Knowing how noble society works, if any of you get tangled up with the troops or the knights and the result is bad, you will become the soft target for blame.”

  “Haven’t you already become one, ma’am?” Sera’s voice was quiet, a stark reminder of Nosfraet’s body cooling in the alley.

  “I will deal with that later,” Monica stated, her voice permitting no further discussion.

  Soon, a squad of guards arrived at her location. She could have transported the bodies herself, but she chose not to. She was already under half-suspicion by the Duke and the capital authorities.

  Doing everything herself could be seen as tampering with evidence. She had too many enemies who wanted her downfall; she couldn’t afford to give them an opening.

  This was why she had been meticulously open about every action.

  With the guards’ help, she oversaw the transport of Nosfraet’s body and the unconscious Weaver to the main office.

  Tiger was already there, his expression grim. He immediately took charge, directing the placement of Nosfraet’s body with a somber, careful reverence. As he worked, Monica saw Dave’s broken form laid out on a cot on the other side of the room.

  She approached Tiger. “Your name is Tiger?”

  Tiger stood straighter. “Yes, ma’am. You can call me that.”

  Monica gestured to the Weaver, now bound with heavy mana-suppressing chains under her sustained, low-level gravity field. “This guy is unconscious and weakened. I’ve bound him with my spell, but I still want him under tight security. Under no circumstances do you free him or let anyone meet him. There are likely more like him still active. If you see anyone unknown or suspicious, you contact me immediately. You can fight, correct?”

  Tiger’s chest swelled. “Yes, ma’am!” he roared, the sound vibrating in the quiet room.

  “Good,” Monica said, her gaze sweeping over the scene—the dead, the broken, the captured. “I have to deal with the other fronts. I will return when he regains consciousness.”

  She turned and strode out.

  On the roof, Liam lay on his back, staring at the sky. Across the short, charged distance, Lucien remained standing, shrouded in darkness.

  Liam let out a breathy, joyous sound. “Looks like the problem is solved after all. Thanks to your plan. It was… an amazing experience.” He laughed weakly, the sound tinged with exhaustion. “But man, I will never try something like that again. Ever. For a moment there, I felt so… broken. I can’t even describe it clearly to anyone.” He sighed, a long release of tension and pain.

  Lucien did not bother to look at the effects below. His gaze remained closed. “One of the problems is solved,” he stated, his voice flat.

  Liam’s smile faded. He pushed himself up on one elbow, wincing. “This isn’t the end of the deal, is it? You said you would help me solve this whole matter. If you don’t finish your side, I won’t hold up mine.” He met Lucien’s figure in the shadow. “But if you want to go, that is fair… just give me another one of those potions. And I’ll consider the matter is settled.”

  Lucien’s expression did not change. “That is not going to happen. I do not have a large supply of them, and You haven’t proven yourself enough for me to give you another.”

  The lie was delivered in a perfectly flat, convincing tone. He had an abundance of potions. Even now, he had four of those. But to Lucien, Liam wasn’t worth the effort.

  More importantly, the perfect opportunity to involve himself directly in the unfolding chaos was now presenting itself.

  Liam’s face fell. “So you won’t help?”

  “I made a deal, and I will fulfill it,” Lucien stated, his voice devoid of negotiable space. “I will stay with you until the matter is resolved. But know this: if you dare to negotiate with me again, or even entertain a thought of double-crossing or betrayal, I dare not say what I can—or will—do.” The threat held no feeling, no raised tone, yet it carried a weight that struck a cold, instinctive fear.

  Liam laughed, a nervous, breathy sound. “That’s good. No, that makes us partners, doesn’t it? I don’t know much about you, and you seem to know everything about me. Isn’t that unfair? How about you at least tell me your name?”

  Lucien did not react. The silence was his answer.

  Liam sighed, accepting that he got ignored. “Not a conversationalist, are you? Anyway, I won’t betray you. I’ll definitely do what you asked for. No need to deliver any more threats.” As he said it, he thought,

  If he really doesn’t mean harm, or isn’t planning something shady, I have no issue with a give-and-take relationship. It’s better to be on the good side of someone like him. And if he does have bad motivations… all the more reason to stay close and watch.

  Lucien did not care for his thoughts. He had predicted this internal calculus long before. Everything was already under his palm.

  Liam finally stood, legs shaky. “So, where should we go?”

  “We do not need to go anywhere,” Lucien said, his gaze shifting to a point beyond Liam’s shoulder. “It is coming to us.”

  As he spoke, three figures—Knights K3, K7, and K6—burst over the adjacent rooftop, their movements a blur of aggression. They leaped, weapons drawn, targeting the Red Cape.

  Lucien moved Liam aside with a casual, almost dismissive pull, placing himself between the youth and the assault. The knights’ combined attack found only empty air.

  K7 skidded to a halt, sword raised. “Who are you two? Are you with that copycat? Or are you the copycat? Which is it?”

  Liam, now standing slightly behind Lucien, frowned in confusion. “How about you introduce yourselves first? Haven’t seen your faces before.”

  K3 laughed, a rough, taunting sound. “Don’t worry, bastard—”

  Thud.

  The laugh died.

  In a motion too fast to track, Lucien had snatched Liam’s spear from the ground. The weapon’s tip simply appeared in a horizontal line at the level of K3’s neck. A clean, severing cut. The knight’s head separated from his shoulders and struck the roof tiles with a wet, final sound.

  Before the headless body could crumple.

  Lucien reversed his grip on the spear as he spun, the shaft a blur. He didn’t thrust—he drove the weapon like a piston, straight through the front of K6’s helm. There was no cracking of bone; the force was too absolute. The skull shattered, scattering fragments of metal, bone, and matter across the rooftop.

  K7 retaliated on instinct, sword swinging in a desperate, wide arc. He never completed the motion.

  Lucien’s follow-through from the strike on K6 became a downward, sweeping slash.

  Both of K7’s arms, still tensed for his attack, were suddenly not attached to his body. In the same fluid motion, Lucien flicked the spearhead back up and across K7’s midsection. A deep, horizontal line opened from hip to hip, spilling its contents onto the weathered stone.

  K7 fell to his knees, then onto his side, coughing thick, dark blood.

  Lucien finished the three new enemies as quickly as they had arrived. The entire exchange lasted seconds.

  He stood amidst the spreading blood, then calmly wiped the spear’s haft clean on K3’s tabard before turning and offering it back to Liam, handle-first.

  Liam was dazed. What he had seen happened within the span of a few blinks. The violence was so absolute, so casual, it left a hollow ringing in his ears.

  “What was that?” His voice was tight. “Was that necessary? Aren’t they… knights?”

  Lucien replied without a trace of emotion, “No. They are not.” He glanced at the bodies as though they were nothing more than discarded, broken puppets or toppled statues. “They are one of the problematic elements I mentioned. The points of devastation in the sketch.” He looked back at Liam, his gaze analytical. “They are the ones who escalated the riot. They killed troops and gang members indiscriminately, pushing each faction toward greater chaos. A standard destabilization tactic.”

  He paused, his tone flattening further. “They also killed a significant number of civilians tonight. The reason is currently unknown to me.” This one was a lie. Lucien did know they had killed civilians—just not tonight, at least not on his watch. But he added the fact, mainly to erase any hesitation in Liam.

  The information landed with cold, brutal clarity. They weren’t knights. They were instigators. Murderers of civilians. The moral shock Liam felt began to harden into something colder, more resigned. He took his spear back from Lucien, his grip tightening on the familiar wood.

  “Why did they do it, though? What do they want? Are they with the killer?”

  “You would have to ask them yourself,” Lucien said. “I told you what I knew. Make your own decision now.”

  Liam’s mind raced, piecing together fragments. “When they first arrived here, they asked if I was the copycat. When I faced the bird mask for the first time, he asked something similar to a different person. The bird mask was searching for that person.” He looked at Lucien, a flicker of desperation in his eyes. “Could you at least share your thoughts?”

  “Chances are they are working together, or at least hunting for the same person, but for different reasons,” Lucien stated. “I would say it is the former. The way they launched the attack without hesitation or doubt suggests they knew your description.”

  Liam’s voice tightened. “This is not good.”