"King Ragnar, we have lost visual and audio from the drone. However, the other sensors are still active," the operator informed as Ragnar and Thomas's eyes remained fixed on the holographic screen, which was currently only showing black.
"How long will it take for the nearest drone to reach his location?" Ragnar asked.
"It would take at least 20 minutes for the nearest drone to arrive at his location, my king."
A frown appeared on Ragnar's face.
'Saint Solomon would reach there before that time... I need to see what is happening.'
"Are there any active soldiers currently in Paris?"
The operator merely shook his head in response to Ragnar's question, making him scowl in annoyance.
He was already starting to lean towards the possibility that it really was Azriel instead of a skinwalker.
No, he was sure of it—it really was Azriel.
'No matter how Saint Solomon is, he wouldn't act this carefree, not with how much he favors Azriel.'
Ragnar grit his teeth as he waited for the drone to show footage again.
"It was spotted at the border of Germany and France a month ago by Major Hendricks," another operator informed.
The void creature that attacked Azriel was well-known in France.
Or perhaps the reason the void creature was so well-known was because nothing was known about it at all.
"The Crying Fog..."
An operator handed a file to Thomas, who then handed it to Ragnar.
----------------------------------------------
Void Creature #1247
Name: The Crying Fog
Rank: Unknown
Type: Unknown
First Seen: 26 April 2144
Last Seen: 14 September 2148
Victims: 86 active soldiers gone missing, among them being Captain Harold, a Grade 1 Expert.
Description: The Crying Fog, an unknown void creature, was first spotted in France 4 years ago. It is unknown from what phase void rift it came from. Its true form is still unknown, whether the void creature is the fog itself or the fog is just one of its abilities. The void creature has never left France. It is reported that the sound of a sobbing little girl always resounds inside and outside of the fog range before the victims go missing.
----------------------------------------------
'How did it reach Paris so quickly… without detection?'
Ragnar's eyes moved down the page.
The creature had never shown itself clearly—only its presence, through the fog and its voice.
And every time, the person caught within vanished. No bodies. No signs. Just… gone.
Only twice before had drones managed to glimpse the fog before their signals cut out.
'This is the third time we've captured anything at all. We'll need to update this file soon…'
'Azriel... can Saint Solomon reach him in time?'
Perhaps sensing Ragnar's spiraling thoughts, Thomas spoke quietly.
"If he really survived two years in the void realm... I doubt this thing alone will be enough to kill him. Probably."
Ragnar didn't reply.
He only hoped Thomas was right.
******
There was never any mention of this creature in the original book.
Azriel didn't recall the protagonist ever facing something like this—at least not in the first half.
Then again, the system did occasionally send the protagonist into the void realm, often at random, to fulfill quests.
But this?
This was new.
'Calm down…'
His eyes remained locked on the silhouette.
He didn't blink.
Couldn't.
The sobbing childlike figure sat, hugging a teddy bear, barely visible in the mist. He had to keep watching. He had to hold on.
Because if he blinked—if he let his guard down for even a second—
It would be over.
This was the most terrifying type of creature one could face.
Not one that attacked the body.
But the mind.
Mental warfare—silent, invasive, constant—was far deadlier.
The whispers hadn't stopped since they began. They slithered through his mind, around his thoughts, gnawing at his sanity.
His eyes ached, but he refused to shut them.
Pain throbbed through his right shoulder from the previous fight. His entire body screamed for rest. For relief.
But he couldn't allow that.
Not now.
"Please... don't go…"
"Please don't leave me…"
"I don't want to be alone anymore…"
"Don't go…"
The voice of the little girl was everywhere. Gentle. Begging. Almost real.
'P-please... just shut up. Shut up. Shut up.'
He clenched his jaw.
He wasn't scared of the crying.
No.
He was scared of himself.
Because something inside him… wanted to walk toward her.
Wanted to comfort her.
To say it was okay. That he wouldn't leave. That he would stay.
That he would never let go.
That was the terrifying part.
He was so afraid of that small, quiet pull in his chest—he didn't dare breathe.
The cold that coiled around his skin felt unbearable.
'Don't go. Don't go. Don't you dare move!'
His legs trembled. Numbness crept up his knees.
"Don't go... don't go... don't go... don't go..."
Then suddenly—
The whispers stopped.
Like time itself had frozen.
No sound.
No movement.
The silhouette vanished into the fog.
Azriel collapsed to his knees.
He exhaled sharply, his whole body trembling.
'Thank God…'
He was exhausted.
Utterly drained.
He closed his eyes, chest heaving, trying to steady his breathing.
"Good job, Azriel. You managed to survive. The fog has vanished with the creature. Open your eyes now. Saint Solomon should arrive in fifteen minutes."
Ragnar's voice.
So clear. So familiar.
Comforting.
"Y-Yeah… thanks."
Azriel was about to open his eyes when—
He froze.
That voice wasn't Ragnar's.
Ragnar didn't whisper.
And Ragnar's voice didn't come from right beside his face.
It wasn't coming from the drone. It wasn't electronic.
It was real.
Breathing against his skin.
'...No. That's not right.'
He squeezed his eyes tighter, heart hammering again.
Something was wrong.
Terribly, impossibly wrong.
Why would he feel breath?
Why was the voice so clear? So close?
And—
'Fifteen minutes? No. That's not possible…'
More than enough time had passed.
Unless—
Unless the fog… or the creature… could alter time.
"Azriel Crimson? What is it? Open your eyes. Saint Solomon will be here in fifteen minutes."
The voice repeated itself.
Calm. Soft.
Too soft.
Too human.
And yet—not.
Each time he heard that chilling breath, Azriel's body froze in place.
'Don't open your eyes. Don't open them. No matter what!'
"Azriel... Crimson... open your eyes... open... eyes…"
It no longer sounded like Ragnar.
The voice had changed.
Distorted.
Like broken glass dragging across his eardrums.
He clenched his fists, his teeth, his eyes.
"Open. Open. Open. Open! OPEN YOUR EYES! OPEN YOUR EYES! OPEN YOUR EYES!"
The shrieking voice tore through the fog like razors, making his ears bleed.
It didn't sound human anymore.
No human could make that sound.
"Open... eyes... Saint... Solomon... fifteen... minutes…"
The shrieks faded. The breath was gone.
Silence returned.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe.
He just waited.
Waited.
Until—
"Brother."
"…Huh?"
That voice.
Familiar.
Distant.
Real.
He didn't think. He just reacted.
And his eyes opened.