"It feels the same... just a lot smoother, I suppose, if I have to articulate it," I said, feeling the warmth of Sara's hand as she ran it gently across my chest, right above my core. Her fingers moved with a delicate precision, like a musician brushing familiar strings, trying to sense the tempo of something she couldn't fully grasp. Her other hand rested lightly above her own core—an instinctive mirror gesture, though unnecessary for the moment.
She didn't reply immediately. Instead, she nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on my chest, lips pressed tightly together in silent thought. It was as if she were listening—not just with her ears, but with her mana, her intuition. Then, after a brief pause, she let go with reluctant grace, her hand withdrawing as if from warm water.
"I don't feel much of a difference at the moment... must be because you've suppressed your signature again," she said, tone casual, eyes dropping back to the table where her half-finished vegetable stir-fry sat untouched and likely cold by now.
'Yup, you caught me,' I thought, not even trying to hide the amused smirk tugging at my lips.
Whenever a mage ascends, be it in rank or stage—their mana signature undergoes a transformation, becoming denser, sharper, far more potent than before. The core itself changes, too, shrinking as layers are peeled away. The result is an exponentially refined engine: smaller, yet far more efficient. Absorption improves. Storage increases. Control sharpens.
But all that power comes with a price. The stronger the core, the more difficult it becomes to fully suppress one's presence, especially around fellow elites. S-ranks can detect minor ripples with a glance. SS-ranks? They can read the air like a scripture. Masking yourself from them is like trying to vanish in a room full of mirrors.
On the flip side, concealing one's presence from A or B-rank mages becomes almost laughably easy. They lack the depth of mana attunement needed for such subtle detection. Their senses haven't yet caught up to the intricacies of the deeper layers of mana.
Take Sara, for instance. She was nearly at the threshold of A-rank, her growth steady and inevitable—but still, she was B-rank. For someone like me, hiding my core energy from her was effortless. Not even worth noting.
"Yup, you got me," I replied with a wink as she picked up a spoonful of stir-fried vegetables and gently offered it to me. I accepted it, mostly to humour her. She knew I hated eggs and everything remotely related to them. That distaste was a rare constant in my life—something that had never shifted, no matter how much I'd grown or changed.
The rest of the afternoon drifted by like a quiet stream, the tension of the morning giving way to something softer. We spoke of small things—shared glances, laughter, brief touches that said more than words could. The weightier thoughts remained tucked away, hidden behind smiles we didn't question. Yes, the heavier conversations were important. Urgent, even. But for now, they could wait. I needed this. She needed this.
Even if it hurt later, this fleeting reprieve was a cost I was more than willing to bear.
Roughly an hour and a half after finishing lunch, we stepped out of her home and began the walk to Lav's place. He needed to be informed, too. We had all agreed—well, sort of. Agreement wasn't something we were great at, but this time it had been unspoken. Understood.
Lav lived farther out, closer to the outskirts of the city. He'd always preferred it that way—less noise, more trees, more open sky. His house stood on the edge of a modest grove, wrapped in the arms of nature. It suited him. Isolation gave him clarity, or so he claimed. Maybe he just hated people. Either way, it worked.
His house was bigger, too. Lav never liked confined spaces. He said it messed with his breathing, muddled his focus. What was the word? It slipped through the cracks of my mind for a second. Ah, right—claustrophobia. He mentioned it once, when we had no freaking clue about such phobias...
The road we walked on was damp, slick from last night's rain. Puddles were scattered across the uneven path, reflecting slivers of grey sky overhead. Our steps were deliberate, cautious. Sometimes our shoulders brushed, sometimes we drifted apart, weaving around stones and puddles like dancers in a quiet ritual.
As Lav's property came into view, Sara and I exchanged a look, unspoken but aligned. We weren't going to bring up yesterday's events—not here, not now. Especially not that moment. The silence. The feeling. That... thing.
Sara seemed lighter now, her breath no longer caught in her chest. But I still carried the question—what had really frightened her so deeply? What had wrapped itself around her soul in that cursed house?
It didn't feel like ordinary fear. It had clawed into her bones, something older, something deeper. Something... familiar. But I held my tongue. Not out of indifference—far from it. I simply couldn't afford to stretch myself thinner right now.
And besides, she was older than me. An adult in her own right. If the weight became too much for her to carry, I trusted she'd come to me. And when she did, I'd help her carry it. Without question. Without complaint.
"We're not staying more than five minutes," I said, stepping aside to avoid a shallow cradle of muddy rainwater. "We greet him, we drag him out, we leave."
Sara nodded silently, her eyes tracing the puddle, then the road ahead, then me. "Where are we headed after that?" she asked, voice calm—too calm, like a surface hiding the current beneath.
"Once we get that bastard moving? My place," I said, with a faint smile. "I've got things to share. A few gifts. Some news. Adrianna and Rebecca are heading out, and with Mercy helping Rebecca and Edward with Adrianna, it's a perfect chance to give them what I brought back from Arcane."
She nodded again, her pace steady, mind likely already shifting to thoughts of departure, of goodbyes, of preparation.
The day after tomorrow, Forza and I will leave.
Destination? The Beast Rim. But not just the fringes. We'd be heading deeper. Near the swamps, before the sacred river of Ganganath. A serpentine titan of water, thick with ancient power, or whatever those old legends mention. The natural divide between the savage Outer Rim and the borderline civilised Middle Rim. That's where the Chimaeras usually nested. That's where the real hunt would begin.
A long, perilous journey lay ahead—one that would demand more than strength and strategy. And I wasn't entirely sure we were ready for it.
But for now, we had five fleeting minutes.
And a friend whose peace was about to be shattered.
***
"Thank god, you're half ready," I commented dryly, just as we reached his door. Before we could even knock, Lav swung it open—likely sensing Sara's approach, which usually meant he was either training hard or up to some amusing antics. His eyes shifted between us, filled with confusion, as if we were some sort of inspectors come to audit his every move. A moment later, the realisation hit him, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. Unlike most men who simply throw on whatever they find, Lav took immense pride in his princely appearance and meticulous outfit selection. This level of grooming was a time-consuming ritual, more so than any of us cared to admit or wait around for.
"What do you want?" he asked, annoyance etched into his features. Sara and I exchanged glances, both silently questioning his sudden sour mood. "What's up with you today? Usually, you're so welcoming..." Sara probed, her voice tinged with frustration. "Yeah, for you... But for him? Hell no!" Lav shot back almost instantly, his tone softening just slightly as he directed his attention toward Sara.
Ah, so this is the crux of it, I understood as I pieced it together. Lav had prepared himself in anticipation of Sara's arrival, only for me to crash the scene and thwart his efforts. Regardless, we didn't have the luxury of time to indulge in this exchange. I nudged him to promptly finish whatever fleeting task he was involved with and report back in five minutes. Until then, Sara and I preferred to wander around instead of waiting idly in his house. After spending nearly an entire day cooped up in close quarters, a breather outside felt necessary.
Lav attempted to inquire about our destination, his curiosity evident. Yet before he could pry further, Sara gently nudged him back inside and playfully warned him that if he was even a second late, we'd leave him out of the important meeting regarding Arcane. That seemed to ignite a spark of urgency in him, and he dashed toward his bedroom to change into his cherished battle uniform—the one ensemble he held in the highest regard.
As he disappeared into his room, I let my focus drift away, ceasing to monitor his movements. Instead, I turned my attention to Sara, who was lost in admiration of the lush greenery surrounding Lav's residence. 'This guy sure spends a lot on his home and lifestyle,' I mused, recalling his casual mention of how he allocated almost 10% of his income to rent alone. Considering Lav's earnings—nearly on par with my own—it was a significant chunk of change. 'Good for him, I guess. He's worked hard for it, after all...'
My thoughts lingered on him for a moment longer before they wandered back to Sara, reminding me of thoughts I had no intention of pursuing—at least not now.
The unsettling topic of the shadows emerged in my mind, strikingly reminiscent of the legends surrounding Wraiths. Forza had dismissed such talks as mere rumours, manipulative fabrications. Yet the parallels were too pronounced to ignore. Could this be nothing more than a coincidence? A foolish notion indeed, as the mere suggestion of it made my soul scream, 'Bullshit!' in protest.
One thing became abundantly clear: neither Forza, nor Ahana, nor her daughter had lied. They had no compelling reason to distort the truth, especially Ahana and Aurora, since we had all sensed that something wasn't right. That awareness alone justified our trust in their words. But Forza? She could have had her reasons to mislead us, even now. As a fellow master of deception, I recognised the nuances of lying—the intricate details of expression, word placement, body language, and more. Yet, when it came to her sincerity, I could find no trace of deceit; she sounded as genuine as a fervent prayer.
A thought struck me like a blade straight through the ribs, Aurora… she said something about her father... or the figure who came to her at night... Not in dreams.
In her home. Inside Varis.
My breath caught in my throat.
My hands moved on instinct, covering my mouth as if to smother the horror clawing its way out. My heart thundered in my ears, drowning out the world, while my skin broke into a cold, damp sweat. Mana surged beneath my flesh—wild, electric—like it wanted to escape me entirely.
No.
No. No, no.
They weren't just rumours. They weren't just legends whispered by some dying tribes of the western rims.
The shadows—those creeping, hungry figures of dread—weren't waiting at the edge of the world anymore.
They were already here.
Inside Varis.
Watching.
Waiting.
In the rooms where children slept. Behind doors that locked too easily. Inside the homes of the unaware.
The Wraiths- The Shadow Demons.
Whatever name they went by—it didn't matter.
They had found their way in.
And something told me they weren't here to stay and just observe...