Pheo made his way back, crossing through the quieter thoroughfare that led towards the inn where he'd left Adam the night before. His feet ached and his lungs still burned from running, but he didn't stop until the familiar wooden sign of their hotel came into view.
There, in front of the hotel entrance, was Adam. He stood surrounded by three Ember Pact operatives. But it wasn't an interrogation out of suspicion. The tone was heavier, almost nervous.
One of them, a man with a scar across his chin, leaned forward with barely masked tension. "We heard you were here, Adam." His voice wasn't making a mockery of him, rather, it was wary.
Another one kept a hand near the handle of his blade. "You've killed men from every side. Concordists. Raiders. Even men who swore loyalty to the Pact outside the city. You don't respect any banner."
Adam stood still, his gaze as cold as ever, with his hands at his sides. "I'm not here for you." He told them bluntly, causing the to pause. "Then why are you here?" The man with a scar asked.
"Last time a Black Ace came here, half the city's population died." One of the men followed up, the term Black Ace ringing a bell in Pheo's mind. It was a label, one placed on very few people in the world.
A Black Ace is an individual of extraordinary capability, possessing skill or power unmatched by those around them. Unlike heroes or leaders who serve a collective goal however, a Black Ace operates entirely on their own will.
They are lone agents who act purely on their own whims. Their actions are guided only by personal motives, desires, or obsessions. What makes them a feared existence is their power, possessing a gift strong enough to make waves across the world.
Adam's reply was low and direct, "I'm looking for someone. And so far, it's looking like being with you three isn't doing me any favors." The three operatives exchanged glances, unconvinced of his words.
Scarred Chin spoke again. "What's their name?" Adam's gaze sharpened. His tone was flat but heavy with warning. "...That's none of your business." The three men visibly tensed at the sudden shift in atmosphere, a strange flicker of fear passed through their expressions.
"I just want to find her," Adam said, his hands still at his sides but coiled like a blade waiting to be drawn. "Get in my way, and I'll burn through you with your own embers. Otherwise, leave me alone."
For several seconds, they remained silent until the first man stepped back. "If you're truly not here for us, then consider this as a warning to stay out of our affairs. The Ember Pact doesn't want conflict with someone like you just yet."
With one last uneasy glance, the three men turned and left Adam, fading back into the night. He let out a slow breath, but didn't relax. Pheo stepped out from the shadows then, making his presence known.
"You're alive," Adam said softly. It wasn't a greeting, but more of a fact he was relieved to confirm. Pheo stepped closer to Adam, "...So the reason you came to this city was for someone?"
"Not just this city," Adam clarified, "I've been going everywhere I could. Crossing out every place she could possibly be." His gaze stayed fixed ahead, as if even the question hurt to answer.
"I know it's a she, but can you say her name?" He asked him, causing Adam to shake his head once, sharply. "No names." Pheo hesitated, surprised at the sudden harshness in his voice.
Adam's eyes softened just enough to show it wasn't anger, just something almost sacred. "She's... The reason I'm still alive. And that's all you need to know."
Pheo nodded slowly. He didn't press again. Instead, he straightened his shoulders. "Then let me help you find her," he said. "I know someone who might actually help."
Adam looked at him silently for a moment, weighing the offer. He looked like he didn't believe his words, but he wasn't shutting the offer down either. After a moment, he gave a single nod.
"Lead the way."
Pheo went ahead, walking under the lanterns in silence for a while. Adam's footsteps were steady, but there was tension in the air that Pheo finally broke. "I meant what I said you know, I want to help you find her."
Adam didn't slow down from his words. "You don't even know what you're offering. Why do you think I've been searching for so long?" He asked him. "Maybe not," Pheo replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "But I want to help, even if it's a little. You've done enough for me already."
Adam gave a sidelong glance. It wasn't anger, more like disbelief mixed with something harder. Like he'd forgotten what it felt like to accept genuine help. "You think you'll just... solve it?" He asked quietly.
"This isn't a puzzle for someone to solve. It's a graveyard trail for me to walk. You're not obligated to walk it with me." He tried to convince Pheo of the difficulty of the task.
"I know," Pheo reassured him, not backing down. "But I'm choosing to." Adam looked forward again. After a moment, he exhaled, a sound that was half resignation, half acceptance. "Alright. Then we go together." They walked the rest of the way in silence.
When they stepped through the doors of Kael's private hotel suite, the atmosphere shifted immediately. Kael looked up from a desk strewn with maps and bloodstained notes. Thorne stood looming nearby. Both of them were staring, not at Pheo, but at Adam.
"You..." Thorne said quietly. "Your presence means nothing but trouble." Their reaction made Pheo glance at Adam confused, "Is it that bad, being a Black Ace?"
Kael didn't answer him right away, stepping closer to study Adam with rare caution. "Black Aces," Kael said, his voice even but weighted, "They aren't mercenaries who work for gold. Nor are they knights who hold their sword for any banner, faction, or leader. They follow one thing in this world. Themselves."
He folded his arms, eyes never leaving Adam. "No one controls a Black Ace. They're just there as walking calamities. If you're lucky, they leave before the body count gets too high."
Pheo stared. Adam, as usual, said nothing. Thorne added, almost as if he was recalling a rumor: "Some say that Black Aces don't believe in anything but themselves. The judgment they carry with their own will."
Kael murmured, "That's why everyone finds the world looking a lot better with them gone. Or at least, want them on a leash. But you can't exactly put a leash on something as dangerous as a Black Ace."
Adam finally looked from Kael to Thorne. His voice was level, but cold as iron. "You have nothing to worry about. You haven't done anything wrong just yet." Kael didn't back down, but there was a flicker of caution.
"Is that how you introduce yourself? You really know how to bring interesting guests, huh?" Kael turned to Pheo. "Why did you even bring him here?" He stepped forward, "Because if you help him with his goal, then I'll give you something you need to solve the murders that have been going on in this city."
His words made Kael arch an eyebrow. "You think I can't solve them myself?" He asked him. Pheo shook his head, "Not without this." He reached inside his coat, revealing the half-burnt parchment.
Kael's eyes narrowed the instant the black spiral sun was exposed. "The God of Chaos... huh?" He murmured to himself. Thorne leaned in, "We would need more strength to take on an organization such as The Dark Church."
"The contents link Elion to their cult. He's trading sacrifices in return for something. That's why the Concordist officials are dying, and why they're targeting civilians near the Badlands."
Kael took a slow breath, processing everything that's been revealed so far. "So you're saying that Elion is working with the very cult The Director's been hunting for years?" He looked up, his eyes having strategy in them.
"All those elite bodyguards you see around Elion, they don't actually serve him, but The Director. That's where their real loyalty lies." Pheo felt the realization click into place. "If they knew Elion had ties to The Dark Church, then they'd turn on him."
"They'd kill him, most likely on the spot." Thorne's voice was a calm, deadly confirmation. Kael looked down at the parchment again. His mind was already turning. "We don't even have to fight Elion. We just have to show this to the right person, and it'll all be over."
Adam said nothing, but there was approval in his silence. Pheo looked at him, and for once, Adam didn't look like he was operating alone. Kael folded the page and tucked it away carefully.
"Alright then, We'll finish this, and then we'll find that missing person of yours." Kael looked at Adam, getting a low nod as a response. He didn't say thank you, but in his language, that was trust.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The roar of voices from the main hall echoed faintly through the floorboards. Unlike the main hall however, this room was still, lit only by a pair of oil lamps. Elion stood near a heavy oak desk with parchment maps strewn across it.
Across from him, dressed in muted bone-colored robes with a hood pulled low, stood a lone emissary of The Dark Church. "The ritual's scale demands it, Elion. You promised us bodies, sacrifices for our God."
"And you'll have them," Elion leaned back slightly, hands clasped behind his spine. "Tomorrow's speech will draw hundreds, if not thousands. Not all of them are loyal to me. Many still cling to neutrality, their thoughts on our methods questionable. They'll vanish along with the Concordists."
The emissary's hood turned, as if smiling. "Good. A fire needs tinder that no one will miss." Elion's eyes flickered with calculation. "That's only the beginning. I want to push the city to its limits, where it has to be reborn through chaos."
There was a pause. Then he continued, choosing his words carefully. "...But I will need more than just the deaths of those who oppose the Pact. I need additional support, the kind that can fight."
The emissary tilted their head, "You already have the Pact and Director's soldiers." Elion stepped forward. "I have soldiers, yes. Rebels and Idealists, but they aren't enough for what's to come."
"Tomorrow, I'll be provoking the Concordists, an act no different from provoking the Capital. They'll retaliate, physically. If you can send an apostle, one who has been blessed by your God, then I can keep control once the bloodshed starts."
The emissary was quiet. For a moment, it sounded like they were weighing a sin. "Why should we sacrifice one of our own for you?" they asked, making Elion smile. "Because when the city burns, I won't stop at The Free City. I'll point every flame toward the Capital itself."
The emissary inhaled slowly, then let out a sound that could almost be pleasure. After a long pause, they gave a slight bow. "One acolyte. Skilled. Loyal. He will arrive tomorrow, and fight in your name."
Elion nodded once, satisfied. "That's all I needed." They murmured a few final words. Dark, quiet promises of the world that's to come, before the emissary slipped through the side door and disappeared down the corridor.
Elion remained, staring down at the map of The Free City, his fingertips tapping on the districts he envisioned burning down. Tomorrow was going to be beautiful. While he envisioned the beauty of tomorrow, someone was fearing it.
Sylira's heart was hammering in her chest. She had followed Elion after noticing his quiet absence from the main hall. Something in his movement had told her he wasn't merely stepping away for some air.
She stood just beyond the edge of the doorframe, pressing herself against the stone wall, straining to hear. The thick wood muffled much of the exchange that unfolded, but not everything.
"More than vessels."
"Chaos... A city reborn..."
"Acolyte. Skilled. Loyal."
Her blood ran cold as she heard pieces of the exchange. This wasn't a political maneuver, but mass murder disguised as control. Not only that, but The Dark Church was a long enemy of The Directors.
She stepped back, ready to bolt down the corridor and tell the others. She was already halfway out the exit to call for the other bodyguards. But a flicker of blue light slashed across her path, and then...
Pain.
A sharp force hit her ribs, sending her into the wall with a grunt. She tried to draw her weapon, but another pulse of light lashed out, burning hot against her shoulder and forcing her to her knees.
A shape emerged from the shadows, a tall hooded man, cloaked in a worn out robe that shimmered faintly beneath the moonlight pouring through a high stained-glass window.
The man's eyes were distant stars behind his hood, glowing silver. "I wouldn't scream, Sylira. You know what'll happen if you do." His threat made her breath quicken. "Who... are you?"
His skin was badly marked, very badly. Patches of it still looked warped and cracked, burn scars running up his arms and throat, old wounds that looked half-healed, half cauterized.
He noticed her staring, making him give a thin, hateful smile. "Don and Wing. Do these names ring a bell?" Sylira froze, her mind racing. "I owe their friend these wounds, they're the reason why I stopped fearing death."
His eyes glowed with light. But not madness, it was something slower, colder. "So... I decided to burn the rest of the world with me." She gritted her teeth. "Then take it to their friend, not to them."
A dangerous glint crossed his face. "Can't take it to them if they're already dead. Not that my revenge ends with it." He stepped forward, the moonlight energy spiraling around his wrist, "No, it'll continue with you."
He dropped a fabric strip, her sibling's Concordist insignia, at her feet. "You'll become a traitor. You tell them what Elion is planning, and they'll believe. They'll turn on him too soon."
"He needs to be alive, at least, until we get our God. You move too soon, your brother ends up dead. You stay quiet... and maybe you live long enough to see Don and Wing beg for their lives."
She stood still, shaking, but silent. He nodded once, and turned away, dissolving back into the far end of the corridor like fog blown apart by wind. The blue light faded with him.
Sylira pressed her back to the wall, breathing hard. She wasn't defeated, but she couldn't reveal what she overheard. At least, not without her brother getting killed. She spent the rest of the night in the hallway, her mind tearing itself apart thinking on what to do.