The informant faction's underground hall was never silent.
Even now, with the main lights dimmed and the outer corridors sealed, the room pulsed with low murmurs—abilities activating, devices humming, soft footsteps circling the metal table at the center. On it lay a sealed containment tray, transparent glass reinforced with runes and sigils.
Inside it: ash.
Not scattered. Not ordinary.
Compressed. Refined. As if the remains themselves resisted being forgotten.
Several informants stood around the table, each with a role, each with a different method. One pressed two fingers against the glass, pupils dilating unnaturally as faint symbols reflected in his eyes. Another hovered a thin thread of light above the ashes, attempting to trace residual ability signatures. A third whispered under their breath, repeating the same phrase over and over, trying to bait an echo from the dead.
Nothing answered.
Then—movement.
At the far end of the room,the lady who was with Tel suyin at the scene, Lin Xueyi stood still, her posture relaxed but deliberate. She hadn't touched the ashes. She hadn't spoken. Her eyes, however, were no longer normal.
Colors shifted within them—blue, gray, pale violet—like overlapping filters refusing to settle.
She stared into nothing.
Then she stepped forward.
The room subtly adjusted around her as she walked, the lights dimming further without anyone touching a switch. Her steps were slow, measured, almost ritualistic. The others noticed and gradually fell silent, instinctively giving her space.
From her perspective, the room had already changed.
Gray stood in front of her.
Not the man as he was when he died—but as he had been before everything. His body was faint, translucent, edges soft like fog struggling to hold shape. His hair was darker, unaltered by power. His eyes looked human. Afraid.
Lin Xueyi followed him as he drifted through the room, his feet not quite touching the floor.
"Tell me what happened," she said calmly, her voice steady despite the strain forming behind her eyes.
Gray turned. His expression twisted, confusion layered with panic.
"I… I don't know," he said, his voice uneven, like it was being pulled apart mid-sentence. "I don't know who it was. Or why."
As he spoke, his form flickered—brief distortions rippling across his chest and shoulders, like corrupted data trying to stabilize.
"I tried to see him," Gray continued, wiping at his face even though tears didn't fully form. "I tried to remember… but every time I do, it's like something pulls me back."
His body glitched violently for a second, static tearing through his outline.
Lin Xueyi stopped walking.
"Describe him," she said. "Anything you can."
Gray opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
His spirit shook harder now, form destabilizing, transparency increasing as if some unseen pressure was erasing him piece by piece.
She adjusted quickly. "Then tell me this—was there anyone who hated you? Or someone you hated?"
Gray looked down.
Silence stretched.
Then—his eyes widened.
"There were cameras," he said suddenly. "At my place. You can… you can check them."
The moment the words left him, his body began to dissolve. Not violently. Not dramatically. Just… fading. His outline thinned, features blurring.
"Wait," Lin Xueyi said quietly.
But Gray was already gone.
Her vision snapped back.
She stood exactly where she had started, staring at empty air. The ashes on the table remained unchanged. The room slowly returned to normal lighting.
"I want anyone who's free right now to follow me," she said calmly.
Two men and one woman stepped forward immediately.
They left without another word.
---
Gray's apartment was small, functional, forgettable—the kind of place people chose when they didn't want attention. The television was off. The air smelled faintly metallic.
Lin Xueyi moved straight to the ceiling.
"There," she said.
A camera.
Minutes later, they sat on the couch as footage streamed onto the television. Gray appeared on screen, seated, relaxed—until his body suddenly tensed. He stood abruptly, walked into the kitchen, returned with a knife.
Then—static.
The footage warped as his illusion ability activated, his figure blurring and vanishing from sight.
A few seconds later, a figure dropped in from the balcony.
The fight unfolded in fragments—movement distorted by overlapping abilities. Then Gray leapt out of view.
"Outside footage," Lin Xueyi said.
They switched feeds.
Gray was already out of range.
All the cameras caught was a lone figure walking calmly after him—pace unhurried, posture relaxed.
Lin Xueyi stood.
"Turn off the lights. Leave," she ordered.
They hesitated—then obeyed.
The room plunged into darkness.
She knelt and placed her hand against the camera housing.
The others were discussing quietly outside when, without warning, Lin Xueyi sprinted forward and leapt off the balcony, chasing something only she could see.
Realization struck them at once.
She was inside the footage.
---
The alley unfolded around her in fractured layers.
Gray stumbled ahead. Clutching her head, Lin Xueyi followed, her own head throbbing as interference screamed through her senses. Then she saw it—the figure.
Blurry. Distorted.
Everything else was clear. Only him refused definition.
Floating weapons hovered behind him, outlines glitching. Gray froze mid-step, pain slamming through his body. Blood spilled from Lin Xueyi's nose and eyes.
Lin Xueyi dropped to one knee, barely holding herself upright.
Still, she watched.
Gray's eyes fractured like broken glass.
The figure snapped.
Purple flames ignited.
Gray burned.
Ashes scattered.
She screamed as the memory rejected her.
---
They found her minutes later, collapsed in the alley, blood streaking from her nose as she clutched her head.
Few minutes later, when she recovered enough to speak, she told them everything.
The walk.
The voice.
The distortion.
The abilities—uncertain, overlapping, wrong.
Notes were taken rapidly.
Then the question surfaced.
Do they inform the misfit faction?
Or do they seek something higher?
The screen shifted.
A boy appeared—no older than fourteen.
White hair tinged faintly with yellow. One eye hidden beneath a cross-shaped hair pin. A cross earring glinted against his ear. Yellow pupils watched silently.
Black dress shirt. Yellow tie. Black gloves. A choker. Another cross stitched over his chest.
A disciple.
A follower.
Of God Eye. The real God Eye from the God order.
The room went quiet.
The ashes remained still.
But everyone present understood one thing now.
Whatever had killed Gray—
—it was no ordinary existence.