I paced forward through the city, the world around me vivid and loud, yet inside, I felt suspended.
Like I was stuck in limbo, walking, but going nowhere.
Slightly ahead of me was Emilia, who trailed after Reinhard as he led us towards the slums.
My eyes continued to trace faces walking by. A reptilian man with bright red horns. A rabbit girl with a cute sky-blue dress. A fat, ugly merchant who looked greasier than fast food from Earth. None of them gave me that feeling.
What was that feeling? I didn't know. It was just something I hoped existed and would give away the person that the Witch would want me to find. But I'd been let down so far.
Helping Emilia recover her mystery item that she was highly reluctant to tell us about still felt pointless to me. Sure, it might be interesting. But it didn't feel like it would get me further away from the looming guillotine that was the loop.
Another unknown. Was it simply because the guy faced an inconvenience that warranted looping time? Or was it because he had actually died or was facing possible death?
I let out a sharp sigh, closed my eyes, and just walked for a moment. Tired of scanning crowds. Tired of running mental circles.
So I was caught off guard when Emilia suddenly stopped.
I almost ran into her. Reflexively, my hand shot out, landing on her shoulder to stop the shove. "Sorry. Wasn't looking."
But she wasn't looking at me either.
I followed her gaze across the street.
Standing up against a wall and looking completely lost was a cute little girl who kind of reminded me of the twins at the Astrea Estate.
She paced back and forth in her little bubble, ignored for the most part by the passing civilians, too caught up in their own lives to care; tears threatened to pour down her face as panic gripped her further and further.
"...Doesn't that girl look lost, Sir Ethan?" An eyebrow quirked up as I met Emilia's eyes. That was the first time Emilia had addressed me directly. And apparently, she knew my name.
"I'd agree," I said, scanning the street. "Don't see any parents nearby."
Also didn't see Reinhard, which left me mildly surprised. When had he slipped off? He never went far from me when we'd toured the capital. Suddenly, he'd just… vanished?
Emilia spoke again, cutting into my thoughts. "I'm going to see if she needs help." No hesitation. For once, her voice had weight behind it. Confidence.
The kid did look lost, and simply leaving her be in the middle of the capital sounded awful. Plus, helping her out sounded like a good break away from the doom and gloom haunting my mind.
"Sure," I said with a shrug. "I'll come with."
Emilia gave me a look that might have been gratitude before we crossed the street. She knelt beside the girl and spoke softly, voice gentle and kind. She said all the right words. It sounded just like what might calm the average kid down.
Wrong.
Instead, the girl burst into tears.
'Yikes.'
I panicked. No siblings and no kid-handling experience left me floundering as much as Emilia was.
She waved her hands and tried in vain to calm the girl down, soothing words and logical explanations on why she had suddenly approached the girl were all ignored. Her floating cat, Puck, was nowhere to be found.
Which was a shame, because what little girl wouldn't like a cute cat?
Seeing that the situation wasn't improving and I still couldn't catch sight of Reinhard, I decided to step forward.
Crouching down next to Emilia, I gave the little girl the best disarming smile I could manage. My master plan could solve this.
"Hey there, kiddo— "
Would this be dangerous? Possibly.
Reason and Judgement.
Click
The world froze. A tear hung in the air, caught mid-fall. Suspended in time. Perfect stillness.
'This has to be the most pointless use of our Authority yet,' a voice muttered in my ear. If sarcasm could facepalm, it would.
I ignored it.
This was my power. If I wanted to turn a live fire spell into a party trick, then that's exactly what I'd do.
I flipped through old memories, practice casts of Goa back at the Academy. Times I'd carefully pulled mana from my gate. The measurements. The dosage. Just enough to entertain. Not enough to maim.
It didn't take long to sort through the right memories and settle on a plan
I stepped out of the frozen moment.
The tear hit the ground with a silent splash.
"— check this out."
Confidence surged. Third time casting the Goa spell? Who cares. I was taking something dangerous and turning it into art. Something beautiful. And there was nothing that could stop me.
I cupped my hands and lifted them slightly. Mana coiled up my arms like warm ribbons. I whispered the incantation: "Goa."
A flame flickered to life between my palms. It twisted, pulsed, then shifted into shape.
A crude little girl made of fire. Flickering dress. Dancing across the tiny stage between my hands.
The real girl stopped crying.
She stared, eyes wide with wonder.
The moment hung, quiet and soft, before I gently cut the flow of mana. The flame faded.
I took a breath and offered another warm smile.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, see? We're not here to hurt you."
More of the tension slipped from her face.
Seeing the opening, Emilia leaned in again, her voice still soft, but steadier this time, and tried once more to reach her.
"Did you come here with your parents?" she asked.
A quiet nod.
"Did you lose them around this street?" I chimed in.
"Mhm," the girl replied.
That narrowed it down. We just needed to look around a bit. I was sure we'd find her parents in no time.
"Shall we go looking for them then?" I asked, extending a gloved hand toward her.
She hesitated, eyeing my hand. Then her eyes drifted up to meet mine. I gave her a soft smile, one that came easier than I expected.
She reached out and took my hand. I gave hers a light, reassuring squeeze as I stood up with Emilia.
"Shall we then?"
What surprised me most was when the girl reached out and took Emilia's hand, too.
Emilia let out a tiny gasp, barely audible, but I caught it. Her eyes flicked to the girl, stunned. Like she couldn't believe someone would willingly touch her.
Then a small smile bloomed across her face. Gentle and honest.
She glanced over at me, as if to say, Are you seeing this?
I nodded, smiling back. Emilia looked far better like this, not stiff or guarded, but warm.
And just like that, we moved on. A trio, hand in hand, strolling down the busy street.
I scanned the crowd for any signs of distress, maybe a parent shouting a name. At the same time, I kept an eye out for Reinhard and his flame-red hair.
We weaved past a group of onlookers watching a small magic show, a man shifting floating water into ice, melting it into fire, and then reversing the cycle. Magical thermodynamics. Neat.
'And also something to keep in mind for later experimentation.'
As I stored that thought away for later, I spotted him.
A few buildings ahead, Reinhard stood calmly beside a woman who was clearly scanning the crowd, not just casually, but searching at leg height.
I leaned down and gave the girl's head a gentle pat.
"Now I'm not usually a gambling man, but I'd wager that woman up ahead is your mother. No?"
She followed my finger.
And the moment her eyes locked on the woman, her whole face lit up. Joy bloomed like a sunrise.
"Mommy!" She cried out, letting go of both our hands and sprinting towards her mom, tears forgotten.
The woman dropped to her knees, arms outstretched, while Reinhard stood by her side, casual as ever.
I reached the woman and my wayward friend, only to realize Emilia hadn't followed. I half-turned and caught the hesitant look on her face just before she noticed me watching. She quickly closed the gap, pretending nothing had happened.
I filed it away for later.
The mother had risen from the ground, clear relief washing across her face as she turned to my friend.
"Thank you so much, Reinhard. I looked away for one second, and she was gone!"
'Huh. That was awfully casual. No title, no formality. I've never heard anyone speak to him like that.'
"It's no trouble, Mrs. Risch," he replied, calm as always. "Just be a little more careful next time. That goes for you, too, Plum."
He stepped forward and gently ruffled the girl's hair. She giggled, and his easy smile didn't falter.
"You should drop by the estate sometime. Grimm and Carol would love to see you again. Flam and Grassis have been training hard. I think they'd love to show off for you, Plum."
None of this made immediate sense to me. But piecing things together, it sounded like this Mrs. Risch and her daughter might be connected to the butler I'd met, maybe even to the twins. Something to ask about another time.
The girl lit up again, eyes shining. Her mother nodded thoughtfully.
"It's been a while since I visited. I've been keeping up through letters, but business has been hectic. But you're right. I'll make time soon."
She turned to Emilia and me, giving us a grateful bow. "And thank you two for helping my little Plum."
I shrugged, casual. "Wasn't a problem."
Emilia just smiled.
Reinhard dipped his head politely. "Always a pleasure. Please give Mr. Risch my warmest regards."
It was a nice moment. A breath between storms. A rare chance to just... exist.
Eventually, the mother and daughter walked off, waving. That left us standing there.
'Time to get back on track.'
I turned to Reinhard and tapped him on the shoulder, teasing grin in place.
"So… where'd you wander off to? Didn't take you for the type to get lost."
He kept watching the two girls with a grin, like he'd just seen the perfect ending to a film. Then, finally, he turned to me, grin still intact, and pulled a brown bag off his belt I hadn't noticed.
"You ran off to get a mystery bag?" I asked, eyebrow raised.
The grin faded slightly, and instead of answering, he asked,
"Ethan, when was the last time you ate?"
That threw me. I blinked.
In this body? Sure, a couple of hours ago.
'We had breakfast before touring the capital… but I lived through a whole day after that. Then time rewound.'
I didn't eat dinner in that loop. And I didn't experience eating this morning's breakfast, even if this version of me technically had.
Now that I thought about it? I was hungry. Really hungry.
'What the hell? I remember eating… so why does my stomach feel like it missed it entirely? Is this some kind of mental-desync thing?'
I shook off the fog.
"Uh. I did have breakfast. But… spiritually it feels like I haven't eaten in a day."
Rein nodded at my strange answer like he'd fully expected it before pushing the brown bag into my hands.
"I grabbed us something to tide us over while we search. Figured you and Lady Emilia had Plum covered. Gave me time to track down her mother."
I stared blankly at him for a second.
'He planned all that? Thought it through, executed it, without a word to us, all in under a minute?
Reinhard really was something else. The word "incredible" kept shifting in meaning the longer I spent around him.
Finally opening up the bag he gave me, I was met with three foot-long sandwiches, each covered by a leaf wrap instead of the paper wrap I had expected from these types of sandwiches back on Earth.
I hummed in appreciation at the thought of eating one of these, but the third sandwich reminded me that we were supposed to be helping Emilia find her item.
Looking up to find the girl in question, I found her standing a couple feet away, looking a little awkward. It seemed that once more, Emilia had retreated into her shell.
I pondered why Emilia seemed so hesitant around us. The look I'd given her when we first met probably didn't help… neither did my tone after using Reason and Judgement come to think of it.
But at the same time, I was rolling with the Sword Saint, that should have been something, right?
Reinhard was a pretty lovable guy, and it seemed everybody in the capital liked him whenever he wasn't rolling incognito by doing whatever he did with magic.
Maybe it had to do with the missing item that she was so strung out.
"Hey, Emilia, you hungry? We got sandwiches." My tone came out far too casual, considering she was likely nobility, but she just didn't really give me that feeling. No imperious attitude and seemingly far too kind. Calling her "Lady Emilia" or even "Miss Emilia" felt too stiff. Hell, she looked my age.
Pushing through my overflowing thoughts, I offered the bag to her, and she looked inside it with curiosity. Apparently, the sandwiches appealed to her, because I could see the shift in both her expression and her posture.
"Can I really?" She asked.
"Of course," I answered. "Reinhard bought them for all of us. Take one." I gave her a small smile and gestured with the bag for her to go ahead.
She finally took one and began to unwrap it. While she did that, I handed the bag back to Reinhard and suggested to the two that we walk while we eat. The thief wasn't going to wait for us to finish lunch, after all.
With general agreement on that point, we continued through the capital, eating while we walked.
About an hour passed before we got a proper view of our destination.
The Slums.
They sat like a bruise on the far end of the landscape. Faded roofs. Cracked roads. Dirt paths cut through makeshift housing like scars.
'No matter what world you're on,' I thought bitterly, 'there's always going to be poor people, huh?'
We didn't talk much during the walk. Reinhard led from the front, silent but steady. I kept scanning the crowds for anything, anyone, that gave me that feeling. Emilia mostly stayed quiet, sneaking glances at me between moments of wide-eyed wonder. You'd think she'd never seen the capital.
As we moved through the sloping landscape, I could visibly see the city surrounding me beginning to change.
Gone were the fine-cut stone streets and polished lamplight posts. The further downhill we moved, the rougher it all became, less orderly, less clean. The buildings here didn't match the capital's usual style. Cracked walls, patchwork doors, slanted signs. People didn't stroll down here; they moved with purpose, or not at all.
This was the outskirts of the capital city.
The people who lived here were poor or hiding from something, and thus had less access to everything.
They glared at us, at our clean clothes, our posture, the fact that we looked like we had more than they did. Back in the upper districts, people looked at me and Reinhard with curiosity, or admiration in his case. Down here? We were intruders.
The eyes of the residents here spoke of mistrust. Hands hovered near weapons, malnourished children taking glimpses before dashing off into dark alleys, and an utter lack of city guardsmen.
Sergeant Varric had talked about increasing casualties closer to the slums, and I was beginning to think that meant that the guard had decided this shithole wasn't worth getting close to anymore, and thus stuck to the higher districts.
The last "guard" I'd seen had been stumbling out of a dive tavern down here. Not actively patrolling.
We turned a corner, and that's when I knew for sure: we'd entered the slums proper.
Beyond the declining infrastructure around us, there were two major changes.
The first change hit my nose before it reached my eyes.
A rancid wave of rot and filth rolled up from the streets ahead, like a city dump, but hotter, denser, older. The kind of smell that didn't just offend your senses, it invaded them. It clawed down your throat, coated your tongue, and settled in your lungs like smoke from a grease fire.
It smelled like waste, sweat, decay, and hopelessness all mixed together and left to stew under the sun for a month.
I tried not to gag.
Didn't help.
Reinhard, of course, looked completely unbothered, as if this rank cocktail of rot and misery didn't exist.
Emilia, on the other hand, was doing her best not to bury her face in the folds of her long robe. She looked like she was on the verge of throwing up, and honestly, I didn't blame her one bit.
Puck, the floating cat, had appeared sporadically during our walk down here, using its time to tease Emilia or poke at Reinhard, and to occasionally glare at me.
This time? It had chosen to conveniently disappear so as not to suffer with the rest of us mortals.
'This is foul, the people who live here must've lost their fucking noses to even be capable of living in this shit.'
But the smell wasn't the only sign we'd crossed the threshold.
The stone streets I'd gotten used to? Gone. In their place: dirt roads, winding and warped, just like I'd predicted.
I came to a stop at what felt like the last outpost of civilization. One final, lonely brick before it gave way to mud. I stared down at it like it was the edge of a cliff.
Then, with a quiet sigh of resignation, I stepped off the edge. My boots sank slightly into the muck. I kept my eyes raised to avoid the heartbreak of watching it happen.
It was because of my raised head that I spotted something out of the corner of my vision. Something interesting enough to warrant pausing time.
Reason and Judgement.
Click.
Time stopped.
A gust of dust froze in the air, suspended like a solid mass.
The stench disappeared, overridden by clarity.
The world became clean.
Two buildings down sat a merchant's stall, cobbled together from splintered crates and warped boards, barely upright. A greasy man slouched beside it, smoking something thick and acrid. He looked half-melted into his seat, eyes glazed, soul elsewhere.
He wasn't interesting.
But the cloak behind him was.
Black. Hooded. Full-length. Its fabric hung heavy on the rack, worn but intact, the kind of garment that could blend into crowds or alleyways with ease. Practical. Anonymous. Exactly what I needed.
My gaze drifted to my companions.
Reinhard: the Sword Saint incarnate. Composed. Immaculate. Regal even when idle.
Emilia: radiant and soft-spoken nobility in every line of her frame. Graceful. Delicate. A little too good for the world around her.
Together? We stood out like torchlight in a cave.
And therein lay the problem. No slum dweller was going to spill secrets to nobles on parade. They'd clam up, spit, or worse, lie. We weren't approachable. We were marks, threats, or worse: reminders.
But… there was a way forward.
'Of course. As if gifted. The world saw fit to offer me exactly what I required.'
That cloak was step one.
Disguise myself. Break off. Infiltrate. Not to find the thief, that would be a fool's errand.
No, I needed to find where thieves offloaded their stolen goods. And people like that? They don't talk to saints.
They talk to scum.
I let the moment go. Time resumed.
My posture straightened.
The stench returned, but I ignored it. Weakness had no place here. Not now.
I stepped forward and tapped Reinhard lightly on the shoulder.
"I have an idea," I said with perfect calm.
He turned, eyes attentive. Of course, he listened. I led them quietly out of the merchant's sight, ducking into the shade of a collapsed building.
"Our clothes," I said, "are too clean. We look like what we are. Outsiders. But, if I could obtain a different look, something that makes me more approachable, I can convince someone to point us to where a certain kind of merchandise ends up."
Reinhard nodded slowly. "A disguise, then. I assume you're not about to roll in mud?"
His tone was so sincere I couldn't tell if he was joking, and apparently neither could Emilia. She stared at me, horrified.
"Of course not," I said, arching an eyebrow. "Further down the road sits a fine specimen of humanity. Behind him is a cloak. I need it."
He didn't hesitate. Just nodded. "Then I'll trust your instincts. I'll keep a short distance. If you need me, just signal."
That almost made me laugh. "One problem, my friend."
He followed my gaze to the stall in question, where a grease-streaked man was lazily blowing smoke rings into the humid air.
"Something tells me this man is going to overcharge me the second he sees I'm not missing teeth. And I happen to be lacking funds."
Emilia glanced down at her little pouch, then reached in and pulled out two silver coins. She held them out to me without hesitation. "It's not much, Sir Ethan, but I have these."
Finally, the grasp of confidence from Reason and Judgement faded as I stared at the two coins she was handing me.
'Is she really a noble?'
My first instinct was to laugh, but the mere fact that she was offering to give up her only two coins that she had was too sincere to laugh at.
I looked past her to Reinhard. He gave me a subtle nod, then tapped the side of his much fuller coin pouch like a conspirator in the wings.
I wasn't about to mock Emilia's resolve.
"Thanks, Emilia. This'll help a lot," I said, taking the coins gently from her hand and giving a firm nod.
As I passed her, I gave her a soft pat on the shoulder, then stepped up to Reinhard, who, with practiced stealth, slipped me five more silver. The benefits of having a friend who could practically read your mind.
Together we pushed toward the stall while Emilia chose to hang back.
The merchant looked up as we approached, already licking his lips at the sight of fresh victims.
"That cloak," I said, nodding toward the black one hanging off the rack. It stood out, a hooded cut with a sharp, angular drape and a high collar beneath the cowl. Silver-thread lining traced the inner hem, subtle but striking. The fabric was matte, catching the light in ripples like liquid shadow, and looked sturdy enough to handle real travel. "Three silver."
He gave a theatrical gasp, clutching his chest like I'd insulted his lineage. "Three!? My good sir, that cloak was freshly imported from Gusteko! Made from the finest linen, enchanted by—"
Reinhard shifted. Just slightly. No expression. No words. Just a subtle correction of posture.
The man's voice shriveled mid-rant.
"...Three silver is generous," he amended quickly, eyes locked anywhere but Reinhard's face.
I passed over the coins without a word and grabbed the cloak. Surprisingly decent condition, considering the source.
Gave it a sniff, expecting death, and was surprised to find that it was fine besides the faint smell of smoke.
As I threw the cloak on, a strange surge of energy coursed through me.
Excitement. Like a pressure valve clicking open.
For a moment, the weight of the theft, of the slums, of the loops, drifted off like ash in the wind.
This felt like something out of a story.
Wandering strange streets. Plotting a con. Cosplaying a cutthroat mercenary to root out a den of thieves.
This was adventure.
I pulled the hood low and glanced back, only to find the merchant already retreating into the shadow of his shack.
Rolling my eyes, Reinhard and I returned to Emilia, who now had a smug furball floating at her side. Puck had decided to grace us with his presence again.
I took one look at the pair of them, then turned my attention down the road to a narrow bridge a little ways off.
"Think I'll take my little detour now," I said, nodding toward the bridge. "Mind hanging around that spot for a bit? Just makes it easier to find you again."
They both nodded. But before I could turn away—
"Wonder if he gets shanked," Puck muttered into Emilia's ear.
It caught me off guard. I barked a laugh. The cat had claws after all.
"Puck!" Emilia gasped, swatting at him. "I hope he doesn't!"
Reinhard ignored them, stepping in close.
"Five minutes," he said, calm but firm. "No more."
"If I'm not back in five," I said, adjusting the cloak to hide my outfit, "assume I've been scammed, stabbed, or I found the right place."
"Don't get stabbed," he said flatly.
I grinned. "No promises."
He gave a single nod.
I turned, walked down the road, and ducked into a crooked, silent alley.
A few more buildings passed me by.
Then I stopped.
Inhaled.
Reached inward.
Click.
The world froze.
Within the still frame of this rotting backstreet, I let the chaos peel away.
Reason and Judgement wasn't just analysis. It was control.
Within the still moment, I constructed my mask.
Expression: impassive.
Eyes: cold.
Posture: taut, ready, predatory.
Voice: low, clipped, uninterested.
The mercenary.
Sharp. Efficient. Zero patience.
Here for a job, not a conversation.
Here for results, and no one gets in the way.
With this power, I could become that man. Shape the role perfectly. And if the performance ever slipped?
I'd just pause the world again and adjust.
Perfect recall locked in the route back. Even in a maze of rot and bone-thin alleys, I wouldn't get lost.
I wouldn't be lost.
The world ticked forward.
Heat returned. Noise crashed back like a wave. The scent of ash and sweat clawed up my throat again, but it barely registered.
I pulled the cloak tight.
A shattered mirror leaned against the alley wall, tilted just enough to catch my reflection in fractured shards.
There he was. The mask I'd shaped.
I smiled. Briefly. Not Ethan's smile. His.
For a moment, I didn't mind the cracks.
Then I walked.
A little farther down, I caught sight of a trio of older-looking men, slumped on a broken bench like corpses on smoke breaks. Gaunt, twitchy, sunken eyes. Withdrawal written all over their skin.
I frowned instinctively, then wiped my face back to neutral.
'Maybe this'll be easier than I thought. These guys look like they'd sell their own lungs for half a coin.'
Three sets of bloodshot eyes turned my way. Suspicious. Half-dazed. One of them scratched at his neck like it owed him money.
I stepped close, just enough to be noticed, not enough to feel like a threat.
"Good day, gentlemen," I said smoothly. My voice was steady, low, touched with that practiced edge I'd built seconds ago. "Anybody looking to make some quick coin?"
That line landed.
I held up two silver coins between my fingers. Let them glint. Real. Heavy. Tempting.
"First person to tell me where I can buy some… misappropriated goods," I added, voice dry as ash, "gets paid."
The scratcher blinked slowly. "You a Guard plant?"
I tilted my head. Let the hood shift just slightly.
"Do I look like a fucking Guard?"
That got a snort out of the twitchy one. The middle man leaned forward, narrowing his eyes.
"Nah… no Guard walks around down here alone."
"Exactly," I replied. I let the cloak shift just enough to suggest a weapon underneath. "I'm here on cleanup duty. You point me in the right direction, and suddenly, you gentlemen can afford a little more comfort tonight."
They exchanged a look.
Then the one on the left, missing teeth and most of his soul, jerked his chin toward a side path.
"Gutter Lane," he rasped. "Down that way, past the shitty bridge. Look for the big house near the wall. Old man Rom runs it."
I checked his face. No sign of deceit. Just mild curiosity. And his eyes weren't even on me, they were locked on the two coins in my hand.
'It'll do.'
I flicked him the silver. He fumbled the catch, fingers trembling like he hadn't touched money in weeks.
"Appreciated," I said, already turning away.
I walked off with purpose, cloak snapping behind me like I actually belonged to the kind of world where this was normal.
Behind me, one of them muttered, "Crazy bastard's gonna get crushed if he pulls some shit on Rom."
The one I'd tossed the coins to spoke louder, like he wanted me to hear: "Live strong. Die fast."
I didn't turn around.
Smirking to myself, I slipped back through the alleys. With a quick Reason and Judgement, I knew I'd only been gone three minutes and forty-six seconds. Just short enough to return without Rein thinking I got stabbed.
But when I rounded the final corner I slowed.
A strange scene had unfolded in the short time I was gone.
Emilia stood alone on one end of the road, right at the edge of what barely passed for a bridge, more like a slab of worn stone arching over a piss-thin stream. She wasn't looking for anyone. She wasn't fidgeting or panicking. She just stood there, whispering to the wind, eyes closed. Around her, dozens of tiny lights drifted in lazy spirals. Firefly-sized. Ethereal. Like glowing flower petals caught in a breeze only she could feel.
She looked peaceful.
On the far opposite end of the street, Reinhard stood waiting, arms folded, posture relaxed, with Puck hovering beside him. The floating cat gave me a side-eye as I approached, still suspicious, no doubt, but I ignored him.
I was here for my friend.
And I had good news.
Reinhard had already clocked me even before I turned the corner, eyes sharp, scanning my posture, probably checking for blood.
I smirked and gave him a thumbs-up.
He smiled back.
I stepped up beside him and the little floating menace while flipping my hood down.
"Only cost me two silver and a brief audience with three twitchy junkies," I said casually. "But I got a plausible location for a fence."
I pointed off toward the side street they'd mentioned.
Reinhard traced my hand, eyes narrowing in thought, nodding slightly.
"So, what's she up to?" I asked, glancing across the road toward Emilia.
This time, the cat answered.
"My Lia is communing with the spirits," he said, voice smooth but vaguely smug. "We're standing over here because they get skittish around stronger beings."
'Stronger beings?'
Reinhard, sure. No surprise there.
But the cat too?
'What even are you? Rein treats you with respect, but you act like a lazy throw pillow that learned how to float and judge me.'
I squinted at him, watching as he made a lazy loop through the air, clearly enjoying the mystery.
Shifting my gaze back to the silver-haired girl, I saw her lower her hands in a soft, practiced motion. She bowed her head toward the glittering lights around her, spirits, I guessed, before they scattered like stardust and vanished into the wind.
Then she turned and started walking back toward us, her eyes widening slightly the moment she noticed me already back from my recon.
The cat, Puck, drifted over to perch neatly on her shoulder, his tail curling as he settled in.
"Did you learn anything, Lia?" he asked lazily.
"The spirits say they saw the girl in this area," she replied, tone light but tinged with disappointment. "They gave me a vague direction… but nothing solid."
I decided to toss her a win.
"I got something more concrete," I said, straightening slightly. "Paid a couple locals for info. They pointed me toward a section near the city wall, told me that's where the fence is set up."
Emilia's eyes snapped toward where I gestured, then back to me, wide with surprise.
"That's the direction the spirits told me to go!" she said, a little louder than before. The excitement flickered across her face before being quickly replaced with a hint of bashfulness, her cheeks coloring just a little.
I gave a simple nod. "Perfect. That just means we're on the right track."
Then I turned to my friend.
"What do you think, Rein? Sound like the place we should go?"
Reinhard gave a small nod, already scanning the direction I'd pointed out.
"The consistency between your intel and Lady Emilia's spirit guidance is reassuring. If both paths lead there, then so should we."
I nodded back, a small jolt of satisfaction bubbling in my chest.
We were actually getting somewhere.
Sure, Reason and Judgement made it feel like anything was possible while I was using it, but once that confidence wore off, I felt human again, vulnerable, grounded. So watching a plan unfold successfully? That hit different.
Just as our group began moving toward the objective, Reinhard stopped.
He turned, his gaze locking on something far beyond the reach of normal sight.
The shift in him was instant. Gone was the calm, knight-next-door posture. What remained was the Sword Saint, every inch of him honed, alert, dangerous.
Then, cutting through the moment, came a strange sound:
A crystalline chime, like glass being tapped in a perfect rhythm.
Pling… pling… pling…
It reminded me of some weird fantasy cellphone ringtone. And sure enough, Reinhard reached down and pulled out a small white circular object, flipping it open with practiced ease.
A sharp voice burst from the mirror.
"Reinhard, what's your position?"
The guy on the other end sounded like a commander, seasoned, blunt, pissed.
Reinhard responded immediately.
"Commander Gildark. I'm currently in the Slum District… Sector Seven."
A grunt came through the line. Maybe approval. Maybe frustration.
"Good. We've got multiple reports of mabeasts inside the city limits. Garrisons in sectors One, Two, and Four are taking casualties. Civilians are flooding out of the slums in droves."
Something slammed on the other end, wood, metal, maybe both.
"I've already deployed the Royal Knights, but this is a shit show. Get your ass to those sectors and clean this mess up. Link up with Juukulius in Sector Two and find out how the hell these abominations got this deep into the capital. Understood?"
Reinhard didn't flinch.
"Perfectly, Commander. I'll provide assistance immediately."
The line cut. Reinhard turned back toward Emilia and me, regret flickering faintly behind his eyes.
I didn't give him the chance to apologize.
"Duty calls, my friend. We can handle the rest."
He looked to Emilia next, clearly still trying to say something, but she stopped him gently.
"You don't need to explain, Sir Reinhard. If people are in danger, they need you more than we do."
He nodded, reluctant but resolved. His gaze lingered on us for just a heartbeat longer. Then he turned.
A breeze stirred the street.
I blinked.
When my eyes opened again, he was gone.
The silence he left behind felt louder than any shout.
The absence was physical, like the warmth of a fire being suddenly snuffed out.
I still had Emilia. Puck floated nearby with his usual casual charm.
But none of that changed the truth settling in my chest like lead.
Reinhard was the safety net. The unbreakable wall. The one thing that made failure feel impossible outside of my Authority.
Now?
We were on our own.
And if this thief really had been hired, if this was bigger than a simple snatch and grab, then the situation just changed entirely.
The Sword Saint was gone.
And suddenly, the capital felt a hell of a lot more dangerous.