Over the past several days, Team 2 had made steady progress through the Shadow Realm.
Their route had taken them along the outer edge of the gigantic chasm, carefully circling its vast perimeter while documenting everything they encountered. The oppressive black landscape still stretched endlessly in every direction, but unlike their first day, both teams had begun to develop something resembling a working map of the region.
At the very least, they were no longer wandering blind.
The most significant discovery so far lay beyond the chasm's boundary. What had first appeared to be unusually damp shadow-soil had, upon closer inspection, led them into an entirely new biome.
A swamp.
The ground here was wet and unstable, soaked through with a strange greyish water that reflected no light and yet somehow shimmered faintly beneath the black sky. Pools of the liquid gathered in stagnant basins, while long veins of moisture ran through the shadow earth like diseased arteries.
Bordering the chasm, the marsh stretched outward into the gloom.
The trees in this region were different from the towering forest growths they had previously encountered. These were larger in girth, twisted and gnarled in shape. Their trunks rose in crooked arcs that resembled bent spines and skeletal limbs.
More than one operative had remarked that, from the right angle, they looked disturbingly like colossal human remains fossilized into living shadow. If albeit with weird shadow leaves.
It was an unsettling place.
Still, it was stable enough for operations.
By the second day, Team 2 had established a forward base at the edge of the marsh, complete with reinforced shadow anchors, beacon markers, and a secured perimeter. Researchers had already begun taking environmental samples from the soil, water, and tree matter.
Rajah and his teammate, Javan, were out on patrol. They had only gone a few hundred meters from the perimeter when a Stalker emerged from the reeds.
The creature had barely lunged before Rajah flexed his rune. One moment the Stalker was whole and the next, its upper and lower halves were no longer connected. A perfect divide split its body apart, the separation line so clean it almost seemed unreal.
The corpse fell in two pieces.
Javan narrowed his eyes slightly.
It was efficient, yes. But something about Rajah had been bothering him.
Not his combat ability as that was as terrifyingly precise as ever.
No, it was Rajah himself.
For the past few days, his friend had been acting… strange.
Days ago, Rajah had mentioned feeling off, though he had brushed it aside without elaborating. Yesterday, when Javan had checked in again, Rajah had simply said he was fine.
And yet Javan could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
His expressions felt just slightly too measured and movements a little too deliberate.
Wooden?
That was the word that kept surfacing in Javan's mind. As if Rajah was still Rajah, but something beneath the surface had gone subtly out of rhythm.
Javan's instinct told him that something was not right.
As they resumed their patrol, Javan finally asked, "You feeling alright now?"
Rajah turned toward him and gave a calm nod.
"I'm fine," he said. "This place is just… getting to me a little."
His voice sounded normal enough. Javan studied him for a moment, then let it go. If Rajah said he was fine, then he was probably fine.
After all, Rajah was the strongest.
At least, that was what Javan had always believed.
When they returned to base, however, the atmosphere had changed. Excitement and tension hung in the air in equal measure.
Researchers moved between tents and equipment stations with hurried purpose, while several operatives had already begun gathering near the central briefing structure.
Javan caught one of the researchers passing by and asked what had happened.
The man looked stunned even now.
"Team 1 has made a great discovery. They established communication," he said quickly.
Javan blinked.
"Communication? With what?"
The researcher swallowed.
"A Stalker!"
That alone was surprising. Then the man added, "A third variant, formless stalker."
Both Javan and Rajah went still.
"Equivalent to a Rank 3," the researcher continued. "Apparently it's not hostile. Or at least, not immediately."
That drew a visible reaction from even Rajah, whose expression shifted with what appeared to be genuine surprise.
The researcher continued, lowering his voice.
"The Rank 2s have apparently disclosed part of a classified objective to the rest of Team 1. Orders just came through. We're having a meeting in a few minutes."
Javan exchanged a glance with Rajah.
Things had just escalated.
Elsewhere within the constructed base, far from prying ears, three figures maintained a silent conversation through an established mental link.
Cinder's presence was cool and composed but Emerald's emotions, by contrast, carried a thread of worry.
'What do we do?' Emerald asked through the link. 'If that Formless Stalker helps them find the Asset, that's good for us… but if it interferes when the fight starts…'
Her unease sharpened.
'It's a Rank 3.'
Mercury's thoughts remained quieter, watchful.
Cinder, however, showed only the faintest flicker of annoyance.
'Don't worry about it too much,' she replied.
Her calm was almost unnerving.
'If it becomes a problem… well, we'll just let Carnis handle it. Now, we just need to send the information to him.'
That single thought sent a chill through the shared link.
Then the connection went silent.
.
.
The velvet curtain of night had settled over Mistral.
From the rooftop bar atop one of the city's tallest towers, the sprawling lights below looked almost alive, a glittering sea of gold and sapphire veins threading through the streets. Lantern-lit avenues curved between elegant high-rises and old stone architecture, the city's layered terraces glowing beneath the moon like steps carved into the mountainside.
The rooftop itself was a world apart from the chaos below.
Soft music drifted through the warm night air, accompanied by the low hum of conversation and occasional laughter. Wealthy patrons in tailored suits and glittering dresses mingled freely with tourists and locals who had paid the steep entry fee for the privilege of drinking above the city skyline. Crystal glasses clinked. Perfume and expensive liquor mingled with the scent of cool night wind.
At the far edge of the terrace, one figure stood alone.
No one seemed to notice him.
One hand rested lightly against the polished railing, the other holding a glass filled with a liquid so vividly red it looked almost like fresh blood beneath the rooftop lights. Neon reflections from the bar signs danced across its surface, turning the drink into something almost luminous.
His Grimm mask hid most of his face, its carved contours catching the moonlight in sharp pale lines. The rest of his attire was no less strange, a dark coat whose silhouette marked him as someone wholly out of place among the rooftop's elegant crowd. Beyond the clothing, his sheer muscle mass and height alone would have made him stand out in a crowd.
And yet, people passed near him without a second glance. As if some unseen force bent attention away.
Below, Mistral sprawled in layered brilliance.
The man stared down at it in silence, slowly swirling the crimson drink in his hand.
Then the air behind him shifted.
One moment the space behind him was empty and the next, a man was standing there. He had appeared so suddenly it was as if the night itself had folded and spat him out.
Like the first man, he wore a Grimm mask, though the mane of brown hair spilling from the back of his head softened the otherwise monstrous appearance. His posture was tense and his shoulders were slightly rigid.
The first thing that escaped him was a thread of clear annoyance.
"Carnis," he said, voice clipped. "Why did you call me here?"
Carnis let out a low chuckle, still looking out over the city.
The sound carried an unsettling ease.
"It may be time," he said, voice smooth and almost amused, "for you to announce to the world where your true allegiance lies."
That finally drew the man's full attention. His gaze sharpened behind the mask.
"Was that the leader's decision?"
Carnis lifted the glass to his lips and took a slow sip before answering.
"The leader agrees."
The words were simple and final.
The man was silent for a moment, absorbing that.
Then he asked, "What do you need me to do?"
This time, Carnis turned slightly, enough for the city lights to catch the lower edge of his mask.
"The expedition group has made contact with a third variant Stalker."
The man's expression tightened.
Carnis continued.
"A Formless variant, to be precise."
He let the significance settle.
"And... for some godforsaken reason, it has agreed to assist them in locating Velik's fragment."
For the first time, a faint note of irritation threaded through Carnis's voice.
"That complicates matters."
The man folded his arms.
"So what's the assignment?"
Carnis's smile widened, though it did not reach the cold stillness in his posture.
"If the Stalker intervenes during the retrieval and attempts to aid LUCID, you are to step in and kill it."
The rooftop wind stirred around them, carrying the distant sound of laughter from the bar behind.
"And if that proves impossible," Carnis continued, "then stall it. Long enough for one of ours to seize Velik's fragment and bring it into the real world."
The man gave a slow nod.
"I understand."
But there was hesitation in his tone. A brief pause before the words landed.
Carnis noticed it immediately.
The man exhaled and then asked the question that had clearly been weighing on him.
"Why doesn't the leader handle this personally? If he were there, this wouldn't even be an issue."
For a moment, silence hung between them. Then Carnis tipped his head back and drained the rest of the crimson drink in one long swallow.
The liquid ran down the edge of the mask and dripped from his chin in thin red lines, staining the pale surface like blood.
When he turned, the smile on his face was visible even beneath the Grimm mask.
It was not a pleasant smile.
"If the leader chooses to move," Carnis said softly, "then yes. There would be no contest."
The city lights behind him painted his silhouette in sharp, predatory lines.
"But that is precisely why he cannot."
His tone shifted, becoming colder and more deliberate.
"The leader must ensure that LUCID, or more specifically the Keepers, have no meaningful intelligence regarding his capabilities."
The man's posture stilled.
Carnis stepped closer, voice dropping to something almost conversational.
"If they are allowed to properly counter him, then the retrieval of the Supreme Runes becomes… inconvenient."
The word was spoken with quiet disdain. As though "inconvenient" was somehow worse than catastrophic.
"He would l-"
"Inconvenient doesn't mean he'll lose. He's the strongest. Even Velik with all his power cannot stand against him."
The man nodded slowly. Understanding settled into his stance.
"Consider it done."
Carnis gave a satisfied hum and turned back toward the railing, once more gazing over the illuminated city.
Below them, Mistral glittered in blissful ignorance. Around them, music still played and people still laughed while their drinks still clinked.
Carnis rested both hands on the railing and smiled into the night.
"Good," he said softly.
"Let's see which side fate decides to favor."