"Where should I go?"
The man leaping across rooftops like an acrobat had no idea that, by all logic, he should have died a dozen times already. Cassell was called a military base for a reason. It wasn't just that the students were killers-once high alert was triggered, the buildings themselves became armed fortresses. Automated weaponry. Full-spectrum scanning. Even a bird would be identified and verified.
But against this man, Norma acted blind.
Both professors and students trusted Norma absolutely. So they focused on ground searches. Even the cautious Schneider ignored the Library, because Norma was guarding it. No one believed anyone could slip past her.
History had proven otherwise, again and again.
Nothing was impossible.
"The Library..." The man frowned, crouching on a rooftop to study the terrain. This area had the thinnest defenses. Maybe it really wasn't important?
"Can't find Valhalla... I'll go inside and look for a map or something. Might be a shortcut."
He slipped into the Library.
His luck had always been suspiciously good. Missions were easy, weird, and paid extremely well. He never understood what that Hunter website was thinking-posting jobs that felt like free money. Maybe they were idealists. He was a realist.
Past missions labeled "extreme danger"-Egyptian pyramids, rainforest altars-had ended with him strolling in and out unscathed. He fully expected today to be the same.
The study room was empty.
Under green reading lamps, tables were covered in books. And then he saw it.
A map.
Cassell College Map: Detailed Version: Latest.
"I really am the chosen one," he chuckled.
The entire campus layout was there, including underground tunnels. The Library basement connected to a red-zoned area.
Ice Cellar: Alchemical Equipment and Specimen Gallery.
Below it, a line of Latin.
Authorized Personnel Only.
"Who needs Valhalla?" His eyes lit up. "I'll grab the goods myself and bail. Five million, all mine."
He ignored the Latin he couldn't read and followed the map.
He passed the Central Control Room without incident.
Inside, a holographic girl in a white dress appeared. She called herself Eva. Not only did she not stop him-she pointed him toward the Ice Cellar.
It was ridiculous.
He thought he was caught. Instead, she informed him that he possessed an unregistered Black Card granting access to all areas.
"If the client has clearance like this, why not do it themselves?" he wondered. "Why post on the Hunter site?"
He shrugged.
"Free money is free money. Guess I'm just lucky."
He checked his pouch.
Inside was a syringe filled with iridescent liquid. The client called it a "supplement." If he met an unbeatable enemy or faced death, he was supposed to inject it.
Total nonsense.
I might not be educated, but I'm not stupid, Old Tang thought. That rainbow stuff looks toxic.
He wasn't touching it.
Besides, with his luck, what could go wrong?
He was already planning how to spend the reward. Maybe take his StarCraft buddy who'd moved to America out for a proper dinner.
But as he hunched through the silent, rust-scented, pitch-black tunnels, unease crept in.
This felt different.
Before, he'd explored ruins. Now, he was inside a high-tech fortress, deep underground, lost in an endless tunnel network. Only his footsteps echoed, accompanied by the low hum of ventilation fans.
If anything made a sudden noise, he'd probably drop dead on the spot.
Then his phone rang.
"Ding-ding-ding."
The sound echoed through the tunnel.
His heart nearly stopped.
He was dozens of meters underground. What carrier had coverage here? He decided on the spot-once he got out, he was switching providers.
No caller ID.
Just a prompt.
Press to Listen.
A recording.
"Please refer to the map and proceed to the marked location," the woman from the briefing said.
Old Tang frowned. "Does she think a Master Hunter like me can get lost?"
Two seconds later, he froze.
Checked left. Checked right. Rechecked the map.
"...Damn it."
He turned back.
Five or six minutes later, the air grew damp.
His phone buzzed again.
"Is the relative humidity near one hundred percent? Press 1* for Yes. 2* for No."
He glanced at his shotgun. Fine droplets coated the barrel.
He pressed 1*.
"Is there a strong residual magnetic field? Press 1* for Yes. 2* for No."
He looked at his watch.
The mechanical hand had stopped.
He tilted his wrist. It pointed stubbornly behind him.
Strong field, no doubt. He sighed. Hope this doesn't mess with my health. Should've upgraded my insurance.
Then his eyes widened.
The hand moved again.
Backward.
Not time travel.
The magnetic field was moving.
This was bad.
Really bad.
He needed to finish fast and get out. Five million dollars was on the line.
He didn't notice the mist gathering.
Moisture condensed.
Water shaped itself into a human figure.
As the watch hand swung, the water-man walked in that direction-as if the magnetic field itself originated from it.
The residual field here was powerful enough to pin metal.
Yet now, it bent.
Obeyed.
A greater force had arrived.
With atomic precision, an invisible power reshaped the environment, using moisture to construct a body. Calculations that would cripple supercomputers were being executed effortlessly-by someone a hundred miles away.
"Is there a smell of rusted metal? Press 1* for Yes. 2* for No."
He pressed 1*.
"Calculations indicate you are extremely close to the target," the woman said. "Continue. Locate, observe, and record. No retrieval required. Completion guarantees five million."
"That's it?" Old Tang muttered.
A voice beside him replied calmly, "All gifts from fate come with a hidden price."
"That's deep, bro-holy-don't move!"
Old Tang froze.
This was a stealth mission.
No one should be here.
He rolled forward, spun, raised his gun. He didn't fire. He didn't know where the tunnel led-and one shot could doom him.
Then he stiffened.
In front of him stood a man made of water.
Exquisite.
There was no other word for it.
Every detail was perfect. Hair. Features. Proportions.
Transparent.
"I won't move," the water-man said, raising its hands. "Is it okay if we talk?"
"What... what are you?" Old Tang gasped.
His finger tightened on the trigger. Then loosened.
Would bullets even work?
He'd always been a firm materialist. Haunted places never scared him. Ghosts didn't exist.
Until now.
"I'm water. Obviously." The figure pointed at its chest, shoved a hand inside, and pulled it back out, droplets falling. "Ouch. Ow."
Then it collapsed.
Transparent viscera spilled out.
It twitched.
Went still.
Old Tang stared.
"...Are you messing with me?"
The "corpse" raised a hand.
He jumped. "You're not dead?!"
"Think about it. How does a puddle die?"
The body reformed. Water flowed back, sealing the wound. If it had been human, it would've been horrific.
Because it was water, it was simply wrong.
"Boiling?" Old Tang offered weakly.
"That's just a phase change." The water-man shrugged, then looked at him. Somehow, Old Tang felt a gaze-cold, focused. "But humans stay dead. Whether they rot... or become something else."
"Did I do something to you?" Old Tang swallowed. He wanted to run. "Why are you following me?"
"You didn't offend me. I don't want to hurt you." The water-man smiled faintly. "But someone else does. They want to turn you into something that isn't human. Old Tang will die. Something else will wake up in your body and take everything."
It pointed at the phone.
"...This mission?" Old Tang asked.
"Exactly. You know this isn't a normal school. They don't study lab rats here."
The water-man gestured vaguely.
"Remember the books? Draconic Genetics. Draconic Rituals. Dragons."
"They study Dragons here."
"Are you one of their experiments?" Old Tang backed away. "Don't worry-if I get out, I'll bring people back to save you."
"Then let me tell you something only you know," the water-man said. "Have you been dreaming lately? Of a boy calling you 'Brother'?"
Old Tang froze against the wall.
"How... how do you know that?"
"I know many things," the water-man said softly. "But unlike them, I want to save you. And your brother."
Red light flooded the world.
When Old Tang came to, he was seated at a desk, wearing a long robe.
A small boy sat opposite him, chin resting on his hands.
"Brother," the boy said gently. "You're back?"
Old Tang wanted to protest.
Instead, he heard himself say:
"I'm back, little brother... Constantine."
-
A moment passed.
Or an eternity.
Old Tang woke.
Molten gold flowed through his pitch-black pupils.
"Who... are you?" he asked calmly.
The water-man watched.
"A partner," it replied. "Someone is setting a trap. I want to break it. That's why I woke you early, Norton."
"Or should I say-King of Bronze and Fire?"
"A human speaks of saving Dragons?" Norton sneered.
"Who told you," the water-man said, shaking its head, "that I was human?"
Telepathy activated.
An overwhelming mental force crushed into Norton's awakened consciousness.
A bronze city appeared.
And within it-
A man.
Handsome. Bathed in sunlight.
Golden eyes burning like twin suns.
Norton recoiled.
Primal fear surged through him.
Regal. Dominant.
Lethally overwhelming.
Who could make the King of Bronze and Fire feel this way?
The image shifted.
The man vanished.
A massive foot descended, claws sinking effortlessly into bronze.
Golden scales gleamed, etched with noble, ancient patterns.
Norton looked up.
Horns of a stag.
Head of a camel.
Eyes of a rabbit.
Neck of a serpent.
Belly of a sea beast.
Scales of a carp.
Claws of an eagle.
Palms of a tiger.
Ears of an ox.
Majesty pressed down like a mountain.
Norton nearly knelt.
A Golden Dragon.