Ashborne returned to the inn past midnight, his footsteps muffled on the wooden floor as he quietly pushed the door open. The warm lamplight inside spilled against his hood and mask, highlighting the faint traces of exhaustion etched into his posture.
What greeted him was a strange sight.
Klyden was sprawled across Keiya's bed in the most unorthodox manner—his torso stretched flat on the mattress but his head and arms dangling over the edge, upside down like a discarded rag doll. His legs, somehow, were propped up on a pillow at the other end. Keiya sat beside him unfazed, one hand resting on the spine of an open book, calmly reading while using Klyden's back as if it were a small desk.
Liora's were nowhere to be found—clearly, she was still out on the errand Wads had given her. Reiyell, across the room, had been half-drifting into sleep, her head tilted against the wall, but she stirred as Ashborne stepped in. Wads, however, remained very much awake. He sat on the lone chair positioned between the two beds, elbows braced against the armrests, his dark eyes tracking Ashborne the moment he entered.
Ashborne exhaled slowly, peeling away his hood and mask, his breathing easing into something more natural.
"What happened?" Keiya was the first to speak, snapping her book shut and setting it aside on Klyden's back. Klyden didn't even stir, his quiet snoring filling the pause.
Ashborne walked toward them, fishing out a glass vial from his cloak. The liquid inside swirled faintly, its color sharp and unnatural, and even before it was uncorked a biting scent leaked into the air.
"Confirmed," Ashborne said simply, placing it on the table.
Wads didn't look at the vial. His sharp gaze remained fixed on Ashborne's face instead, studying every twitch of his jaw, every flicker of unease.
"You encountered them."
Ashborne froze at the accusation, then let out a reluctant breath. "…I did."
He dropped into the vacant chair opposite Wads, his gloves tightening slightly against his knees. His voice carried the weight of restraint as he began to explain: how he had been tracked in the estate, how a cloaked figure had stepped from the shadows—Caelith. His description was brief but vivid: tall, lean, silver-gray eyes that glinted like knives, and scars hidden beneath a half-open cloak. And most alarming, the man had spoken of power—familiar power. Similar to Ashborne's own.
At that, both Keiya and Wads furrowed their brows. Reiyell's voice cut in, smooth yet edged with calm disbelief. "That is impossible."
Ashborne's fingers curled into his palms. "It didn't feel impossible."
Wads leaned back slightly, processing. His voice, low and deliberate, broke the silence: "It could be Arcane Tracking."
Ashborne blinked. "…Arcane what?"
Wads took a moment before explaining, his tone like that of a patient mentor. "Arcane tracking—the ability to trace magical signatures themselves. Even if you mask your presence, hide yourself completely, you are still channeling deity power to conceal it. To someone with this ability, that concealment is like a beacon. Stealth is useless against them. They see through the origin point of your power itself."
Ashborne's lips parted. Slowly, his shoulders eased—part dread, part relief—at least now there was an explanation. He leaned back and crossed his arms, sinking into the chair as Keiya picked up the vial. Her eyes narrowed as she tilted it under the lamplight.
"…Same as the one before. Stronger, though." She handed it to Wads, who wordlessly stood, turned his back, and began writing swiftly onto a fresh sheet of parchment. His quill scratched with precision, forming words destined for Kaizer.
Reiyell broke the silence. "If what you said about this Caelith is true, then we are facing a mastermind—one no less dangerous than you, Wads."
Ashborne gave a humorless chuckle and a short nod. "That's what I thought too."
Keiya's gaze lingered on Wads' back as he wrote. Her expression betrayed nothing, but her eyes were thoughtful, heavy with unspoken calculation.
"You already have a plan," Reiyell murmured, her voice soft, as though she were merely commenting on the weather. She leaned her head against the wall, observing him with a knowing smile.
"I do." Wads' reply was immediate. His tone was quiet, cold, absolute. "I will not let them get away."
The tension in his words made Reiyell's lips curve. She allowed herself a small, approving smile.
Then the window creaked open.
Liora slipped inside gracefully, landing on the wooden floor with a soft thud. "Whoa, Ashborne, you're back."
She straightened, her playful grin flashing as her gaze flitted to Wads. "Oh—and you're right. The potion store you sent me to? Reeked of tres." She sauntered closer, plopping down near Reiyell. But her attention quickly snagged on Klyden, sprawled in all his glory, snoring faintly and drooling against Keiya's blanket.
Her grin turned wicked.
Before anyone could stop her, she rose again, quietly plucked the quill lying beside Keiya, and tiptoed toward Klyden. The others merely watched in silence as she crouched beside him, carefully sketching silly mustaches and swirls across his face. Keiya pinched the bridge of her nose but didn't intervene; Ashborne folded his arms; Reiyell smothered the tiniest laugh behind her hand.
When Wads finally finished his letter and turned, his gaze landed squarely on Klyden's newly decorated face. His stare flicked briefly to the three culprits, who all avoided eye contact with varying levels of guilt and amusement.
"Tomorrow night, we move," Wads said evenly, folding the parchment with finality. "Rest tonight and keep your strength. I'll explain the plan in the morning." He rose to his feet and left the room without sparing Klyden another glance. Ashborne followed quietly, closing the door behind him.
The room sank into quiet once more, leaving Reiyell, Keiya, and Liora. Keiya's eyes slid back toward her bed…or rather, toward the ridiculous mess of Klyden half-lolling off of it, mustached and snoring. Her brow twitched.
"How exactly am I supposed to sleep like this?" she muttered.
Liora, feigning innocence, tilted her head. "Want to switch rooms for the night?" she suggested, smirk tugging at her lips as she eyed Klyden's drool-soaked pillow.
Keiya let out a long sigh, finally standing. "Fine."
Reiyell followed suit, amusement still glimmering in her eyes as the three girls stepped out, leaving Klyden in blissful ignorance of his own humiliation.
———
The parchment crinkled softly between Kaizer's fingers as the early light of dawn spilled across the clearing. His hair, vivid red like fire catching the sun, seemed to glow against the pale blue sky. His eyes scanned the paper lazily, every line from Wads registering in his mind.
"Uh-huh…" he muttered, almost bored, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I see, I see."
Lowering the paper, Kaizer's gaze wandered upward. The sun was climbing, its rays breaking through the thinning mist that clung stubbornly to the ground. The air smelled faintly of blood and damp soil. Around his boots lay the evidence of his earlier work—a scattering of thugs sprawled across the grass, their weapons bent and useless. Some groaned weakly, others were out cold, their ragged clothes torn and stained. None of them were worth remembering.
Kaizer exhaled through his nose, shutting his eyes for a brief moment as if savoring the warmth of the morning. "So that's what's going on in the third town…" he murmured. His voice carried the weight of realization, though his expression remained calm, almost amused.
When he opened his eyes, they flicked to the only other figure standing. Leaning against the shadow of a nearby tree was one of his own—another member of ZAO. Tall, relaxed, his pink eyes half-lidded as though sleep might take him at any second. The lazy sharpness in that stare made it clear he was no stranger to violence, though he carried it with an air of disinterest.
Kaizer tilted his head, resting a hand on his chin thoughtfully. "You…" he said, almost dragging the word out.
The ZAO member raised a brow faintly, meeting his gaze without effort.
"Go to Bell Tine," Kaizer ordered smoothly, his grin widening. He waved a hand lazily, as if giving directions to a servant rather than an ally. "And, oh… stop by the potion shop. Grab a sample for me."
The man blinked slowly, let out a long sigh, and shook his head ever so slightly—resigned, but not resistant. In the next instant, his figure shimmered like smoke caught in the wind, and then he was gone.
Kaizer chuckled low in his throat, slipping the folded paper into his coat. The red strands of his hair whipped slightly in the breeze as he turned back toward the morning sky, its expanse growing brighter with each heartbeat.
"They're up against tough enemies…" he mused aloud, voice carrying a note of mischievous delight. His hand brushed casually across the hilt at his side, an unconscious gesture of readiness. "I wonder if they'll use the flare I gave them."
The smirk that curved his lips deepened as he stepped away from the fallen thugs. Behind him, the clearing was nothing but a graveyard of broken bodies and shattered steel. Before him, the day was already moving toward something far more interesting.