In the days that followed, in the region of Galdren, Henry and his team were on a mission outside the city. They were tracking a specter that had appeared in Bastrel.
Specters were particularly dangerous beings — most appeared due to curses or grudges held against the dead.
Henry's team, composed of three Order agents, headed toward an abandoned building: an old textile factory.
Henry entered with Claire, while William and Caspian worked on setting up a barrier to prevent the specter from escaping.
— Hmmm… it doesn't seem like it wants to come out, Henry murmured, scanning the darkness.
— I'll use the incense we were given, replied Claire, focused.
She knelt and placed several sticks of incense on the ground, forming a complex alchemical circle. An orange glow illuminated her face. Henry watched her trace the final symbol… and suddenly, everything blurred.
The walls shook. Screams. Flames. The smell of blood and ash.
Henry saw Claire scream before a shadow appeared behind her. A swift movement, a sharp flash… and her head rolled to the floor.
He wanted to scream, but no sound escaped his mouth.
The specter surged in front of him, a black mass with pale eyes, and pierced his chest with a brutal motion.
The fire engulfed the building. William fell, struck by an iron bar. Caspian tried to flee, but a spectral hand grabbed him, tearing out his soul in a silent scream.
The agents' bodies lay on the floor, soaking in a pool of blood slowly spreading across the cold factory floor.
Their faces frozen in terror told the story of their violent final moments. The metallic smell of blood mingled with that of ash, saturating the air with heavy desolation.
— I see… you want to play this game, Henry murmured.
He threw the chains of his cane and managed to anticipate the specter rushing toward Claire.
She turned, quickly understood the situation, and positioned herself to apprehend it.
Henry held the creature in his chains, having added a potion that burned the specter and prevented it from turning into mist.
— It's ready! Bring it to the center!
Henry threw the specter into the middle of the circle. The creature began burning from within. Its piercing scream made Henry bleed from his left ear.
William entered and immobilized the specter with his power: several iron bars shot from the ground, pinning the creature to the floor.
The specter finally disintegrated, leaving behind only a pile of ash that Claire hurried to collect for analysis.
The team exchanged serious glances — the resistance of this specter was abnormal.
Henry suddenly sensed a presence around them. He remained on guard while Caspian dissipated the barrier.
Before boarding the carriage, Henry turned around: on the roof of the factory, a hooded man was watching them.
Henry immediately recognized which order he belonged to… but time was pressing. They had to return to Cindralis.
On the way, Henry remained silent, lost in thought.
Who was this man? And why was he feeding the specter?
But for now, Cindralis had to remain the Order's priority.
— It always falls on me…
— Pardon, chief?
— Nothing, Claire.
Back in Cindralis, Henry and his team reported to Captain Kingsley.
The streets were lively with fairs, carnivals, and shows all around the city.
Kingsley's office remained the same: stuffed "hunting" trophies on the walls, polished wooden furniture, an oil lamp, and most importantly… Edward Morel's file.
— Good day, Henry. What news do you bring? he asked calmly.
— Captain Kingsley. There was indeed a specter in the abandoned industrial district. However… it was being fed.
Kingsley leaned on his desk, thoughtful. He looked Henry in the eyes, realizing he knew more.
— I saw someone on the factory roof before leaving for the carriage. Impossible to say if they belong to… you know what.
— I see. Thank you, you're dismissed. I have to make a call.
Henry bowed and rejoined his team. Meanwhile, Kingsley contacted the Order's higher-ups.
All we know of that conversation is that a state of crisis was declared.
Meanwhile, Henry went to Catherine Thorn's post to check on Edward. Feeling guilty for what had happened to him, he wanted to make sure everything was alright.
He saw that Edward had adapted well to his new team: between his alchemy training and camaraderie, everything seemed to be going smoothly.
— Edward, get ready, we leave in 30 minutes!
— Yes, Miss Thorn!
Henry approached, carefully avoiding Catherine — he knew she wouldn't appreciate seeing him.
— Hi Edward, how are you?
— Good morning, Mr. Lancaster…
— Stop, just call me Henry. You're going on a mission?
— Yes, with Miss Thorn and Leonard.
Henry was surprised: in one week, Edward was already sent into the field.
Catherine joined them, her tone sharp:
— Henry, may I ask what you're doing here?
— Good morning, Catherine. I just came to check on Edward.
— Very well. But we have a mission. Come back another time.
Henry hesitated to offer help, but a messenger from the Order arrived, evidently for him.
He greeted Catherine and Edward, then left with the messenger.
In the carriage, Catherine explained the mission to Edward:
— You should have had time to train in combat. We were called because some residents went missing.
— Any hypothesis on the creature?
— Unfortunately, no.
She handed him a pistol: a revolver from the Royal Manufacture, adorned with the royal coat of arms — an eagle perched on a lion — engraved with the initials E.M.
— Thank you, Edward said,.
Arriving in the Orana district, the police had set up a barricade. Catherine showed her Order badge, and they were allowed through under the curious eyes of residents and journalists.
Edward had always led a rather precarious life. That said, nothing he had experienced could have prepared him for this. As he and his team moved forward through a fog so thick that one could barely see five meters ahead, the outlines of their investigation site appeared like a nightmarish mirage, the moonlight barely filtering through the gray sky above their heads: tin roofs from which a black dew of filth trickled, looming over what could hardly be described as a house, itself made of old, rusted materials, most of which were salvaged from what could barely still serve as a foundation. The ground, covered in mud mixed with excrement, harbored a multitude of debris like a nauseating treasure chest.
In this setting, which filled Edward with bitter empathy, the inhabitants—covered in soot, dust, and other filth—watched their surroundings anxiously, enclosed by police patrols.
Edward and his team had been dispatched to the site to conduct the investigation. For several days now, repeated disappearances had been reported in this small part of the city. At first, they had been ignored by the authorities, who saw no point. After all, these people were scraps, beggars, replaceable labor at will
Once safe, Edward poured two vials onto the ground: their mixture created a barrier isolating the entire district. The team could now act freely
They split up to search the victims' houses.
Leonard found blood and signs of a struggle — a burglary gone wrong?
Edward entered a burned wooden house, without smell or ash.
As he was about to leave, a voice whispered his name. He drew his revolver but saw nothing.
Catherine, on her side, discovered a sacrificial altar dedicated to a reptilian deity, surrounded by snakes. She quickly made the connection.
She grabbed one… until gunshots rang out.
— Damn, it's Edward! Leonard shouted.
— I know, let's hurry! Catherine replied.
Edward faced a Vespérides: an abomination, half-human, half-serpent.
The creature tried to pierce him, but Edward threw a vial of acid. The effect was minimal. He dodged, threw two more vials: one immobilized the monster briefly, the other created a hallucinatory mist.
Taking advantage of the respite, Edward retreated.
But Catherine and Leonard, despite their search, could not find him.
Catherine placed her hand on the ground, activating her power. Her face froze in horror.
— We… we've been separated from Edward by someone.
— What?!
— It's like we were in another reality…
Edward, regaining his strength, felt that something was wrong. The air itself seemed to tremble — heavy, suffocating — as if reality was struggling to hold together. He moved cautiously, each step calculated, wary of the unseen presence lurking around him. Ahead stood the same altar Catherine had discovered, surrounded by hissing serpents whose eyes gleamed with an almost human intelligence.
Suddenly, the Vespérides burst from a nearby house, moving with terrifying speed. Its tail lashed out, cutting deep into Edward's arm. A sharp pain shot through him, but he bit back a cry and leapt onto an overturned cart. His hands trembled slightly, yet his mind stayed razor-focused, assessing every angle.
Climbing onto a nearby rooftop, he studied the creature. The lower part of its back was darker — almost black — contrasting sharply with its grayish-green scales. His pulse quickened. That was the weak point. The Vespérides hissed, muscles tensing as Edward uncorked the small vials hanging from his belt.
He threw the first one — a freezing agent — but the effect was brief. The monster shuddered, then charged again, howling in fury. Edward pulled out a vial of acid and hurled it at the dark spot. The liquid sizzled on contact, burning through flesh and scale. The creature's scream was a horrifying mix of rage and agony, shaking the walls around them.
Edward took the opening. He grabbed his last vial — a volatile incendiary — and launched it straight at the creature's wound. In one smooth motion, he drew his revolver and fired twice. The gunshots thundered through the street like the drums of war. Flames erupted, devouring the Vespérides from within. Its body convulsed, shrieking as the fire spread along its back, before collapsing into a heap of ash and molten flesh.
Edward dropped to his knees, panting, the acrid scent of smoke and blood filling his lungs. His arm burned, his muscles screamed, but the haze of adrenaline kept him upright. He looked at the charred remains, the flickering flames reflected in his exhausted eyes. Against all odds — he had survived.
Then, through the rising smoke, a figure appeared. A man — tall, elegant — stepping out of the darkness with unsettling composure. His attire resembled that of a noble from the royal courts, and a pristine valet's mask concealed his face.
"You did well, boy," the stranger said, clapping slowly. "Clap, clap."
— Who… who are you?
— Just a valet.
Edward tried to lift his revolver, but his body refused to obey. The masked man crouched near the scorched corpse of the Vespérides, placing it gently inside an ornate box covered in unfamiliar sigils.
"Thanks to you," he murmured, "our research now knows where to look."
He tapped his hands twice — and vanished into thin air, leaving only the smell of burnt air and silence behind.
Edward remained there, frozen, his heart pounding, his gaze fixed on the spot where the Valet had stood.
— You did well, my boy, he said, applauding. Clap, clap.
— Who… who are you?
— Just a valet. Thanks to you, our research now knows where to turn.
Edward tried to move, but his body refused to obey.
The Valet took Vespérides' body, sealed it in a box, then clapped twice and disappeared.
Catherine and Leonard felt the barrier dissipate.
They rushed to find Edward. Leonard found him, his arm bleeding but already healed.
— Are you okay?
— Yes, I think…
Catherine ran to him.
— Edward, I'm sorry. If I had been more careful…
— It's nothing, Miss Thorn. I'm still alive… and I killed Vespérides.
Leonard and Catherine exchanged shocked glances.
Defeating Vespérides was not something many could claim — especially a novice.
— Alright, let's return to the office. We'll check your condition, and I'll write the report.
Back at the office, Leonard took Edward to see Alice for examination.
Catherine entered her office to write her report, but Captain Arthur Kingsley was already there.
She was surprised and closed the door. Kingsley was reading a book on the discovery of alchemy nearly 700 years ago.
— What brings you here, Captain?
—I needed to hear this report from you to see if it's connected to Henry's case.
Catherine took a deep breath before responding.
— We were dispatched following the disappearance of several residents. The district was already cordoned off by the local police, but no tangible leads.
Edward Morel, Leonard Dray, and I crossed the perimeter. Morel immediately set up an alchemical barrier to isolate the area. It was the correct procedure… but I think this barrier facilitated what happened next.
Kingsley raised an eyebrow, silent. Catherine continued in a graver tone.
— We searched the houses. Leonard found signs of struggle and blood in one home. I discovered a reptilian cult altar, surrounded by live snakes. I assumed it was a ritual site.
That's when we heard gunfire.
She clenched her jaw.
— We ran to the source… but we were separated. I cannot explain how, Captain, but it was as if space itself had twisted. We were in the same place, unable to reach him. I later realized it was a distortion… probably caused by a third party.
— And Morel? Kingsley asked.
— He faced a creature alone… a human-serpent hybrid. We later identified the type: a Vespérides.
According to what he told me, he defended himself with his alchemical vials. He used acid, an immobilizing agent, and a hallucinatory mist to disorient it. He found a weak spot on its spine and… took it down.
Kingsley remained silent for a moment, then crossed his fingers.
— A Vespérides… and a novice comes out alive?
— Yes, Captain. And that's not all.
She paused briefly, her eyes hardening.
— After the fight, a man appeared. According to Edward, he wore noble attire, a valet mask… and congratulated him. He said, quote: "Thanks to you, our research now knows where to turn."
Then he took the Vespérides' body, sealed it in a box, and disappeared.
Kingsley frowned, thoughtful.
— You saw him?
— No, but I believe Edward. When we returned to the battle site, there were residues of unknown alchemical energy… and no remains of the creature.
The captain slowly stood, approaching the window.
— And Morel? In what condition?
— Tired, injured, but alive. His wound had already healed — he treated himself with one of his vials.
— Hm.
Catherine hesitated, then added:
— Captain… I don't believe this mission was an isolated incident. Someone… is raising or creating these creatures. And the "Valet" seemed to know exactly who we were.
Kingsley looked at her for a long time, his expression unreadable.
— Very well, Officer Thorn. Your report will be passed to the higher-ups. You acted well.
— Thank you, Captain.
She gave a brief salute and turned on her heels.
Before she exited, Kingsley added gravely:
— Officer Thorn… keep an eye on young Morel. If this "Valet" is interested in him, he represents more than he realizes.
Catherine nodded slowly.
— Yes, Captain.
Kingsley left the office.
At the infirmary, Edward was slapped by Alice for taking too many risks alone.
— You didn't have to, poor guy.
— don't speak, Leonard.
While Edward's blood and mud were being cleaned from his arm, the Captain entered the infirmary to check on him.
He gestured for the agents not to rise and took the time to speak with Edward.
— Edward… would you mind if I have your brother and sister watched over by agents? Given recent events, I fear you might be involved.
Edward was surprised.
— Uh, sure… but what's going on?
— I can't tell you now. Don't worry, I'm assigning the 4th officer, John Smith, and his team to protect them.
The captain left, leaving Edward with Alice and Leonard.
Edward remained seated, still trembling, eyes fixed on the door through which the captain had left.
At the same time, the Valet, the Ace, the Lady, the Jester, and the King had gathered.
The atmosphere was heavy, almost ceremonial. The room was brightly lit; two suits of armor stood on either side of a vast library, where an old, faded globe reigned. Guards formed an honor guard, each wearing a Club mask. Numbers 2, 4, 7, and 5 stood silently in the shadows.
The man seated behind the desk wore the mask of the King. He exuded a cold charisma; his fingers traced arabesques on the paper as he wrote a letter. When his subordinates entered, he lifted his eyes, gave them a brief look, and carefully put the parchment away. Then he placed his hands on the desk and, with a slow gesture, pointed at the Valet.
— "Young Morel has killed the Vespérides," he said in a deep voice. "He discovered its weak point."
A murmur rippled through the room. The King inclined his head slightly.
— "Good. Lady, what do you propose?"
The Lady stepped forward with the confidence of nobles who fear nothing. Her violet gown, embroidered with gold, shimmered under the light; her jewelry caught every motion. With a precise motion of her finger, she adjusted her Lady's mask and spoke in a honeyed tone, every word measured like fine craftsmanship.
— "If our young recruit uncovered a flaw, it means the Vespérides are not yet perfected," she explained. "We must intensify research, improve the strains, create more resilient specimens. We need to accelerate the experiments — and acquire more… resources."
She ended her sentence with a thin smile, every gesture showing that she knew exactly what she was dealing with.
— You will have the necessary funds," the King replied without hesitation. "But no delay will be tolerated."
The Lady gave a small curtsey and returned to her place. Silence fell again, almost ceremonial — until the Jester stepped forward.
He wore a gaudy costume; his clown makeup exaggerated his eyes and mouth. He gestured wildly, almost hopping, drawing all attention to himself. His voice was shrill, filled with irony and weariness.
— "Ah, yes, more funds again!" he exclaimed. "Always funds, always experiments — and what about us, hmm? We repeat, we cut, we stitch, we watch the flasks boil… it's deadly boring! Hands in the air! I feel like I spend my life patching up monsters the way you darn socks!"
A few forced smiles appeared. The Jester continued his act, exaggerating every complaint, clapping his hands, miming boredom theatrically. Then, suddenly, he fell silent and turned toward the Ace, as if seeking approval.
The Ace — dressed in a dark suit, his mask sharp and precise — stepped forward. His presence radiated authority, almost surgical. He fixed his eyes on the King without a single unnecessary gesture.
— "Your Majesty," he said calmly, cutting through the tension, "my team will handle everything. We'll oversee the trials and the improvement of the prototypes. You won't have to bother with the details."
The King nodded, satisfied. The features beneath his mask remained impassive, but his gaze betrayed approval.
— "Very well. See that it's done. And Jester… learn to amuse yourself with something other than boredom."
The Jester gave an exaggerated, half-mocking bow, while the Ace returned to his place, already calculating the next move. The meeting dissolved like a ripple — planned, precise, and implacable.