"The world is a masquerade.
Some wear masks to deceive others.
The clever wear masks to deceive themselves."
— Watchers' Lodge, White Page
---
The great hall of the Watchers' Lodge buzzed with tension. Oil lamps flickered along the stone walls, casting shadows that seemed to lean forward, listening.
Arkwright stood at the front, hands clasped behind his back. His pale blue eyes swept across the gathered members like knives.
"We've received word of… an incident in the merchant quarter." His voice was steady, but the edges were sharp. "A Beyonder lost control during ritual advancement. The area is sealed, but the situation must be contained quickly before the Church intervenes."
The air shifted. Whispers stirred like snakes between the Watchers.
Arkwright's gaze landed on Elias. "Vale. You're with me, Serah, and Jonas. Consider this your first real test."
Elias inclined his head slightly. His lips curled in a faint smile. "How could I refuse?"
Serah's eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable. Jonas gave him a nervous grin, clearly uncertain.
Arkwright's tone cut through the hall. "Move out."
The streets of the merchant quarter were empty when they arrived. Doors barred. Windows shuttered. Yet the silence wasn't natural—it pressed down like a suffocating blanket.
A faint sound echoed from the distance. A laugh. Wet. Broken. Repeating.
Serah drew her pistol. Jonas whispered an incantation, his fingertips sparking with faint light.
Elias closed his eyes. His Observer-sight unfolded—reality bending. The cobblestones shimmered, overlaid with ghostly footprints leading into a narrow alley.
He spoke softly, voice laced with amusement. "Our lost friend has already begun their play."
They found him in the alley.
Or what remained of him.
The man's body twisted unnaturally, bones bending outward like blooming flowers. His eyes were nothing but black pits, bleeding smoke. His mouth tore wider with each laugh, jagged teeth splitting his cheeks.
Elias tilted his head, studying. "Ah… combustion halted midway. He's neither gone nor whole. How beautiful."
Jonas gagged. "That's… beautiful to you?"
"Everything has its own stage," Elias murmured.
The creature shrieked and lunged.
Serah fired—the bullet tore through its chest, but black smoke swallowed the wound. Jonas shouted, a shield of light flaring up just in time to block a swipe of clawed hands.
Arkwright's voice rang out. "Vale! Now!"
Elias stepped forward calmly, the shard pulsing faintly in his pocket.
He raised his hand, and cards shimmered into existence—not physical, but woven from light and shadow, their edges humming with dangerous intent.
He flicked one forward.
It embedded into the creature's chest, vanishing without sound.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then—
The monster froze. Its movements stuttered. Its eyes widened, black smoke leaking faster. In its vision, the alley around it warped, becoming a stage. The audience roared with invisible applause.
It screamed, clutching its head.
Elias chuckled. "Act for them, little beast."
The creature writhed, forced into movements like a puppet dancing. Elias raised two more cards, his smile never fading.
Serah shot clean through its skull. The creature collapsed. Smoke dissipated, leaving nothing but a twisted corpse.
The silence after was heavier than the fight itself.
Jonas slumped against the wall, pale. "That… that was…"
Elias slid the remaining cards back into nothingness. "The end of Act One."
Arkwright studied him, unreadable as ever. "Efficient."
Serah gave him a sidelong glance, suspicion flickering in her eyes.
Elias simply smiled, tilting his head. "Was it not entertaining?"
Later, back at the Lodge, Jonas asked him in hushed awe:
"Vale… what exactly did you do to it?"
Elias leaned back, gaze drifting to the dark ceiling. His smile was sharp, soft, unreadable.
"I gave it a stage," he whispered. "And every actor performs until the curtain falls."
---
"When facing monsters, remember:
They are never actors.
They are scripts gone wrong.
And it is the Watcher's duty to tear the page."