“Are you sure it is wise to leave him be, Father?” Reina’s voice cut through the quiet of the room.
I leaned back in my chair, my fingers lightly tapping the edge of the desk. “No. He’s just a kid, after all.”
“Then why?” she pressed, her tone sharp with unspoken grudge.
“It is his destiny,” I replied simply.
Reina’s brows furrowed, and I could see the storm brewing behind her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
Without another word, she turned sharply on her heel, her movements deliberate, as if she were about to chase after Leon. I sighed, knowing this moment would come, and prepared myself for it. With a single thought, I activated my Telekinesis-build, feeling the familiar alignment of my aura’s attributes: Connection, Force, Mind, and Perception.
The doors trembled briefly before locking themselves shut under my telekinetic hold. Reina stopped in her tracks, glancing back at me with a mixture of surprise and frustration.
“I’m glad you see your little brother as someone you could cherish,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “But I can’t let you intervene in his life.”
Her eyes narrowed, a rare show of defiance. “Hopefully to put you at ease,” I continued, “I’ve hired a bodyguard for him.”
“A bodyguard that could be bought,” she shot back, her words laced with disdain. “I could never be bought.”
I chuckled softly. “The bodyguard I hired is a trusted friend of mine. I believe he’ll mesh well with Leon.”
Reina’s stance relaxed slightly, though her skepticism remained. “I shall defer to your judgment, Father. But why? Leon isn’t ready yet. He couldn’t even touch my sleeve. He’s just ten years old.”
Her words stung more than I cared to admit, but I kept my expression neutral. “I wish there was another way, but fate is a fickle mistress,” I said, leaning forward slightly, “and probably a pettier woman.”
“You’re talking in cryptic words, Father,” she said, crossing her arms. “Have you gone senile?”
Whoa—never thought I’d hear that from Reina. I couldn’t stop the small laugh that bubbled up, though I quickly stifled it.
“What are you laughing about, Father?” she demanded, her voice tinged with indignation. “There’s nothing funny about this situation.”
“Apologies,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s just… such a delight to see such rich emotions from you, Reina.”
Her face softened for a moment, the faintest flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. But she recovered quickly, her usual composure slipping back into place like a well-worn mask.
“I still don’t agree with your decision,” she said quietly, though her voice lacked the edge it held earlier.
“You don’t have to,” I replied, standing and walking over to the window. The faint shimmer of my aura threads still lingered in the air, invisible to most but always present to me. “But you’ll understand someday. Perhaps sooner than you think.”
Behind me, I could hear Reina exhale deeply, her resolve wavering for just a moment before she straightened. “I hope you’re right,” she said, her voice softer now.
“I hope so too,” I murmured, more to myself than to her, as I watched the faint silhouette of Leon leaving the estate through the window.
Reina lingered for a moment longer before turning to leave, the quiet click of her footsteps echoing through the room. Once she was gone, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Fate,” I muttered under my breath, my gaze fixed on the horizon. “You better not screw this up.” With a bit of effort, I took a few pieces of paper, a ballpen, and began thinking to myself what to write. Heh~! I should just write what I felt… and also my intentions for what I was about to do.
So, I began writing a letter addressed to Reina.
~
To My Dearest Reina,
As I write this, I am filled with a bittersweet sense of both pride and regret. You have grown into someone far beyond what I could have ever hoped for—a brilliant, capable, and fiercely independent woman. It is because of these qualities that I entrust you with something that weighs heavily on my heart.
I am leaving, Reina. The path I have chosen is fraught with dangers and uncertainties, and though I will do everything in my power to return, the reality is that I may not. This is not a decision I made lightly. The stakes are high, and the risks are great, but the cause is one I cannot turn away from.
Should I not return, I am placing the Company in your hands. You are the only one I trust to steer it in the right direction, to safeguard what we have built, and to honor the legacy we have worked so hard to create. I know you may doubt your readiness, but believe me when I say you are more than capable.
Beyond the Company, there is something far more precious I must ask of you. Leon. He is still so young, so full of potential and promise. I have seen how you look after him, how you guide him in your own way. Be the big sister he needs, Reina. Protect him, nurture him, and help him become the person he is meant to be.
I know you may feel anger at my decision, perhaps even resentment, and I will not blame you for it. But please understand, this is not a matter of choice but of necessity. The road ahead is unclear, and while I may not always be there to guide you, I trust that your intuition will light the way.
The Moon tarot card I have left with this letter is a symbol of that uncertainty, but also of the strength to navigate it. Trust yourself, Reina. Trust in the instincts that have always served you well.
Finally, know this: I am proud of you. No matter what lies ahead, that will never change.
With all my love and faith,
Reynard
~The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
I set the pen down after signing the letter, its weight heavier than it should have been. The words I’d written to Reina felt final, a parting gift wrapped in obligation. On top of the folded letter, I placed the Moon tarot card, a symbol of uncertainty and intuition, fitting for what lay ahead. My nameplate, flipped face down, served as a placeholder. A deliberate gesture.
This company, this little empire—I would leave it in her hands. Not because she was ready, but because there was no one else I trusted. If things went south, she would need it as a shield. And if I didn’t come back… well, someone had to carry on.
The weight of inevitability hung heavy on me as I dialed a number on the telephone. The connection clicked, and I heard a familiar voice.
“So?” asked the voice.
“I am ready,” I said.
The room filled with a sudden, oppressive heat as Yaksha appeared in a burst of purple and putrid flames. His aura was suffocating, his form wreathed in unnatural fire that flickered and danced as though alive.
“That’s a rather convenient ability,” I remarked, keeping my tone dry. “So, where to now?”
“Lomar, the City of Outlaws,” he replied, his voice a deep growl that carried an edge of impatience.
I stood, taking a final glance around the room. My office, my fortress, my prison. I stepped forward, stretching out my one remaining hand. Yaksha’s grip was firm and unyielding, his clawed fingers engulfing mine.
With a roar of purple flames, the world dissolved around us. The inferno wasn’t hot—it was cold, like stepping into the void itself. The sensation was disorienting, a violent pull that felt like being yanked through space by unseen threads.
When the flames subsided, we stood in a dimly lit alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. The air was thick with the smell of soot and decay, the sounds of the city a distant hum. Lomar.
“Follow closely,” Yaksha said, his voice low but commanding. “My unit should be close by.”
He moved with purpose, his hulking frame gliding through the shadows with an ease that belied his size. I followed, my steps quieter but no less deliberate.
Lomar wasn’t a city; it was a wound festering in the heart of the world. The alleys twisted like veins, the buildings leaning together as if conspiring against the sky. Every shadow seemed alive, every corner a potential ambush.
As we navigated the labyrinthine streets, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. It wasn’t paranoia—this was Lomar, after all. Eyes were everywhere, and none of them friendly.
Yaksha paused, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. “They’re close,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
“Let’s hope they’re friendlier than the locals,” I quipped, earning a sharp glance from him.
“Keep your tongue in check,” he warned. “This isn’t a place for jokes.”
Lomar sprawled before us, a labyrinth of pipes, neon lights, and chrome facades. The city clung to the eastern inner walls like a parasite, thriving in its own peculiar way. Steam hissed from unseen vents, mixing with the sharp tang of industrial chemicals in the air. Shadows stretched long and deep, fractured by the ever-present glow of flickering signs.
Yaksha walked ahead, his massive frame cutting through the crowd with ease. I followed, keeping my steps light and my senses sharper. This was no place to lose focus.
“How old are you now, Yaksha?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“Why do you care?” His tone was gruff, his pace unbroken.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “If the World Order has any method to extend life, I’m thinking… how much does it cost? Once in a while, organizations with deep roots have secret techniques they pass along to their core members. For instance, do you know the Elsewhere Cult’s method of immortality?”
Yaksha’s steps faltered slightly, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he stopped in front of a dead-end alley, his clawed hand reaching for a hidden trapdoor. “We’re here,” he said curtly.
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit stairwell. I followed him down, the metallic tang in the air intensifying as we descended. At the bottom, we emerged into a posh bar, its polished chrome and velvet accents a stark contrast to the grimy streets above. The place was sparsely populated—a few patrons idled by the pool table, others lounged in booths, their laughter muffled by the hum of conversation and soft jazz.
Yaksha strode ahead, cutting a direct path to a private room at the back. I followed, my senses on high alert. As a precaution, I scattered Soul Link thread and Soul Mark stains discreetly throughout the area, a habit I’d developed over the years. Preparedness was survival.
Inside the room, three individuals waited, all wearing the same uniform as Yaksha. The first was a woman with sharp features and dark, styled hair—she exuded an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. The second was an old man with a weathered face and a calm demeanor, his eyes betraying years of experience. The third was a gentleman, polished and composed, his posture impeccable.
Yaksha gestured to each of them in turn. “Reynard, these are the rest of my crew. The dolled-up brunette is Sasha, the old man is Fu, and the gentleman is Carlyle.”
Carlyle’s lips curved into a polite smile. “Long time no see, Reynard.”
“Indeed,” I replied, studying him closely. “Never pegged you for an Order member.”
Carlyle’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or recognition. “Life takes us down unexpected paths,” he said smoothly. “And the World Order has its… charms.”
“Charms, sure,” I said, leaning back slightly. “More like shackles.”
Sasha snorted, folding her arms. “Big talk from someone who’s here asking for help.”
I ignored her jab, my attention shifting to Fu. The old man hadn’t said a word, but his gaze was sharp, assessing me as though peeling back layers to see what lay beneath.
“Is this the part where you tell me why I’m here, or do we keep dancing around it?” I asked, breaking the silence.
Yaksha crossed his arms. “Patience, Reynard. You’re here because we need each other. But first, let’s see if you’re still as sharp as Carlyle claims.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And how do you plan to test that?”
Sasha grinned with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Simple. Survive.”
So a test of skill, then?
Sasha stood out immediately, looking like the youngest of Yaksha’s crew. Her purple hair framed a face that carried equal parts arrogance and determination. A sword dangled by her waist—dual-edged, occidental in design, with a polished hilt that gleamed faintly in the dim light.
Without warning, she lunged at me. Her speed was incredible, her blade flashing in an arc that seemed to slice the air itself.
I reacted instinctively, equipping my Sword Master build. My aura adjusted to align with the attributes: Homing, Swiftness, Toughness, and Sharpness. The moment her blade came close, my aura-empowered right hand intercepted it, homing in on the tip of her sword.
The clang of steel echoed in the cramped space as I parried her strikes with ease. Her movements were fluid, precise, but predictable. She was testing me, and I couldn’t help but analyze her form as I deflected each attack.
The space was tight, making every swing feel heavier, more dangerous. Despite this, Sasha didn’t falter. Her strikes became sharper, faster, until my vision suddenly fractured. Afterimages of her blade appeared all around me, curving unpredictably in the air.
Her aura ability. Clever.
But it was time to end this.
I swapped Sharpness for Perception, allowing me to read the flow of her strikes. When the next swing came, I caught her blade between my two fingers, stopping it mid-air.
“Did I pass?” I asked with a bored tone.
Sasha clicked her tongue in annoyance and pulled back, sheathing her sword.
From the corner of the room, Carlyle burst into laughter. He was a blonde man with piercing blue eyes, his refined features softened by the smirk on his face. Pulling his hat lower, he remarked, “It’s a pleasure to work with you again, the Author… or do you prefer King of Favors?”
“Reynard is just fine,” I replied, brushing off the title.
The old man stepped forward next, his demeanor calm but commanding. His outfit, though matching the team’s uniform, had the casual touch of a tracksuit.
“The name’s Fu,” he said, his voice gruff but warm. “And yes, I’m old. But don’t let that fool you—I can still perform my duties.”
I nodded. “I have no issue with you. Age is tertiary when it comes to hunter abilities.”
Fu chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Oho~ makes me curious. What’s primary and secondary, then?”
“Simple,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Technique is primary, and experience is secondary.”
Fu’s laughter filled the room, a deep, resonant sound. “You’ve got a sharp tongue, Reynard. I like that.”
I let the moment settle, scanning the group. Sasha was still glaring at me, Carlyle was grinning like he knew a secret, and Fu seemed satisfied.
This crew was going to be interesting.