"The first lesson of the Lodge:
If you hear whispers in the fog,
don't answer.
Not even in your thoughts."
The night air pressed heavy over the city.
Gas lamps sputtered along the cobblestone, their flames bending unnaturally, as though fleeing from something unseen. The fog had grown thicker since morning, swallowing alleys and street corners into blank silence.
Elias tightened the coat Arkwright had given him, the fabric still carrying the faint scent of gunpowder and incense. His boots struck against wet stone as he followed behind Serah and Jonas, their silhouettes vague shadows in the mist.
Arkwright led the group, revolver holstered at his side, lantern in hand.
"Another body was found near the river," he said flatly. "Skin peeled. Heart missing. Same signs as the others."
"Cult work?" Jonas asked, spinning his coin lazily.
"Or artifact backlash," Serah muttered, hand resting on her dagger.
Elias stayed silent, eyes scanning the streets. His mind was clear, his heartbeat steady. He remembered Klein Moretti's mantra from LoTM, though this world had its own rhythm: Stay calm. Stay rational. Observe first, act second.
And Elias was a born observer.
The alleys near the river were deserted. Rotting crates leaned against broken walls. The air smelled of brine, blood, and rust.
They found the body quickly.
A man sprawled across the stones, his chest torn open. His face twisted in frozen terror, his eyes wide, as if he'd seen something that shattered him before death came.
Serah knelt beside the corpse, murmuring a prayer under her breath before examining the wounds.
"No weapon. No human hand," she whispered. "The heart's missing, but the edges are clean. Too clean."
"Artifact, then," Arkwright said. His eyes swept the fog. "Stay alert."
Jonas crouched, flicking his coin into the air. It landed on the corpse's forehead and shimmered faintly. "Residual energy. Whoever did this… it's recent. They could still be here."
Elias felt it before he saw it.
The book pulsed in his coat. His breath caught. Without thinking, he whispered the words written on its first page:
"Observer's Sight – Sequence 9"
His vision shifted.
The world peeled open like curtains.
Threads of crimson stretched from the corpse into the fog, vanishing into the distance. Whispers filled the air—low, guttural, inhuman. His heart stuttered, but he focused, forcing his mind into calm.
Don't answer. Just watch.
He turned slightly. In the corner of the alley, something shifted.
A shadow. No… not a shadow. A thing.
It clung to the wall like smoke given form, its limbs too long, its face a blur of teeth. The crimson threads ran from the corpse straight into its chest.
Elias' mouth went dry.
They can't see it, he realized. Only he could.
The creature moved.
It lunged from the wall with a screech that split the silence. The others reacted instantly—Serah drawing her dagger, Jonas tossing a coin that erupted into sparks, Arkwright raising his revolver—
But their weapons passed through it.
The monster twisted, sliding between their blows, its claws raking across the stones. It wasn't flesh. It was something… half-real.
It feeds on what we can't touch.
Elias' hand clenched. The book flared again, words etching themselves into a new page before his eyes:
"Elemental Affinity – Ember Veil"
The trickster smiles, and flame obeys.
He raised his hand. Heat surged through his veins. Sparks bloomed across his fingers, weaving into a thread of flame.
The creature shrieked, jerking violently as though it finally felt pain.
Arkwright's eyes snapped to Elias, but he said nothing—only adjusted his aim and fired again. The bullet, charged with his own Sequence power, tore through the creature's head.
It collapsed into smoke, vanishing with a hiss.
The alley fell silent.
Jonas let out a low whistle. "Well, Vale. You've been holding out on us."
Serah's eyes narrowed. "Elemental control. Not common. Not… safe, either."
Arkwright holstered his revolver, his expression unreadable. He stepped closer, looming over Elias.
"That book of yours," he said quietly. "It's feeding you powers, isn't it?"
Elias met his gaze. Calm. Cold. He slipped the book back into his coat.
"Perhaps," he said. "Or perhaps I'm just playing my role."
Jonas chuckled. "A trickster, then."
But Arkwright didn't smile. His hand lingered near his weapon. His voice dropped lower, barely above a growl.
"Remember this, Vale. Power without control leads to madness. And if you lose control…" His eyes narrowed. "…I'll be the one pulling the trigger."
Elias inclined his head slightly. Inside, though, he felt the faintest ripple of amusement.
You can try, Commander. But tell me… how do you shoot what you can't see?
---
"Some doors should never be opened.
But the Watchers do not knock.
They break them down."