Chapter 3:
Arca Archa
A particular noodle shop bustled with the vibrant energy of breakfast hours. Noticed by its smell first, many steaming bowls of noodles were being savored by noisy customers, all seeking a momentary respite before diving headfirst to a long day of hard work. Amidst the cacophony of clattering and slurping, the sound of a TV broadcast added a touch of reality to the shop. On it, scenes filled the news, capturing the attention of the shop's patrons, whether they were finished eating or had only just gotten started.
"Numerous Arcanian protesters have been camping out in front of the city's guild hall, demanding better pay and hazard benefits," the news anchor's voice carried the story while footage of Arcanians marching in unison played on the screen. The protesters expressed their frustrations, raising placards and sharing their grievances directly to the camera.
"The guild must recognize the risks we take every day!" cried out one Ursid woman passionately, her eyes ablaze with conviction.
"We deserve fair compensation for our efforts," chimed a resolute Caprinae gentleman. "We won't back down until our demands are met!"
The tension in the air was palpable as these men and women provided a glimpse into the struggles faced by many Arcanians every day. However, it was not until the anchor took the opportunity to interview some protesters directly that the true extent of the problem emerged.
"We go out there every day, risking our lives to protect you all from the rift events, and what for?" asked a worn-out and exhausted-looking Canis man. "We fight to eat, and we fight until we are forced to retreat and starve, so we can lick our wounds. I can't continue living like this. I have no more money left either, so it's either I die fighting monsters or I die starving on the streets. Tell me, how should I die?"
Another protester spoke up, "I've dedicated my entire life to this guild, to protecting our city from the dangers of the rift events. And yet, we're being treated like disposable tools," grieved an Avis woman, her voice on the verge of cracking. "Our pay is barely enough to cover our basic needs, let alone support our families. We deserve better. We deserve fair compensation for the risks we're forced to endure every single day."
And then another. "We're not asking for the world, just enough to survive and provide for our loved ones. It's time for the guild and the city to recognize our sacrifices and value our lives," exclaimed an old Equus man as he shook his head with disappointment. "We protect you, but who will protect us? Our children? It's tragic every time I see another child forced into the foster home program—"
Frustration mingled with the aroma of steaming broth in the noodle shop as the words brought about a mixture of emotions among the patrons. Finally, a man had enough and reached for the television to turn it off. "Enough of this nonsense," he grumbled before sitting back down to finish his soup. "This is not the kind of thing I want to listen to while I'm eating breakfast."
However, a nearby patron complained, "Hey, I was watching that!" Yet, another person applauded at the same time, "Finally. If someone wasn't going to turn that off, I would have." The former looked at the latter with annoyance before getting up to switch the television back on. He had been deeply engrossed with the events on the news and wanted to continue watching.
Alas, fate seemed to be in a mischievous mood as the television's screen transitioned to a different channel after being turned back on. The annoyed patron attempted to find the news channel again, yet random programs continued to flash across the scene instead, each one offering a teasing glimpse at other shows before shifting to the next.
"…Reaper comes in for the ulti, he— AND TRUTHSEEKER TURNS IT AROUND AND TAKE HOME THE WIN…" An esports tournament flickered for a moment, displaying a turning point in the game where the underdog clutched victory from the jaws of defeat before the channel switched.
A nature documentary followed, displaying an elegant raptor diving from the sky. "...The Peregrine Falcon can reach speeds of up to 89 meters per second, and it is undoubtedly the fastest..." the narrator described before the channel switched again.
The scene transformed into a cooking show. "...Beautiful piece of Snowy Wagyu right here. Hehe boy. This ain't no vegan dish, so make sure you season it generously on all sides with salt and pepper. Now, take the pan and make sure it's smoking hot..." a charismatic chef exclaimed, enticing the viewers with the allure of culinary delights.
"...Its robotic arms are finely tuned with state-of-the-art technology to be able to move a full range of 360 degrees in any direction and are delicate enough to perform surgery on a blueberry..."
As the television danced from channel to channel, the patrons exchanged glances. The noodle shop hummed with a blend of discontent. Many had lost interest, preferring to go back to eating in favor of letting their bowls go cold. Life's uncertainties and the struggles of the Arcanian community might be important, but here in this little corner of the world, getting something in their stomachs before tackling the challenges the day brought was something even more crucial.
…
…
Amidst the clatter of plastic bowls and utensils, Edmond stood near the counter of the noodle shop. His attention was drawn to the owner— Mr. Chun, a cheerful Sakliu man with a twinkle in his eyes. Wiping his hands on a towel, he approached Edmond with a wide smile that stretched from ear to ear.
"Mr. Edmond, I can't thank you enough for your help," he exclaimed, his voice bellowing with gratitude.
Edmond nodded, mirroring the shop owner's genuine appreciation with his own smile. "I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Chun. It's always a pleasure when I can help local Arcanian businesses like yours. I'm sure you're bringing a taste of home to many who are homesick."
Mr. Chun sighed at the thought. "Ever since my last guy retired, I've been unable to get my hands on the right spices," he lamented, leaning his weight onto the counter to continue. "The import bans have been getting more and more ridiculous over these past few years. 'Everything can be turned into narcotics,' those damn humans keep preaching to us. They're the worst— Oh, Mr. Edmond, I don't mean you, of course. You're the best of the best, cream of the crop as they say; Arcanian or human, it doesn't matter. Honestly, I was about to give up hope on making authentic homestyle noodles until you were able to help me find a new provider. I really cannot thank you enough for your help."
"Well, Mr. Chun. I'm afraid I have to leave now. I have other business to attend to." Glancing at his watch, Edmond suddenly said. His mind shifted gears as he was reminded of the tasks that still awaited him. He took out his phone to pay for the meal he had just eaten.
Seeing what Edmond was about to do, Mr. Chun quickly shook his head and pushed Edmond's phone away. "No, no, no! You don't have to pay. It's on the house this time! Consider it a show of my gratitude," he told him.
Edmond nodded before giving the man a little wave as he left. "Next time," he promised, "I'll pay."
"Of course, Mr. Edmond," Mr. Chun replied, his voice booming. "I wish you a good day. And remember, you're always welcome here!"
Edmond's steps were brisk as he exited the noodle shop. The bustling city streets welcomed him, and he weaved through the dense river of pedestrian traffic as he made his way to his next destination. Following closely behind him was Ianthi, another member of Arca Archa.
"The noodles were pretty good, but if I knew it was going to be on the house, I would have gotten some takeout as well," Ianthi complimented. With a snake's tail coming out of her back and a particular vertical slit in her eyes, she was a Serrin, one of the snake-like people of Archa Astra.
"So, where to?" she asked, humming as she reapplied some of her lipstick that got rubbed off during breakfast.
Edmond looked at his phone. "Just a bookstore," he told her before providing more details. "The owner is an old Sakliu man named Fletcher. He ran into trouble when his store got damaged by a rift event. Luckily, he had insurance to cover the damages. Unluckily, not everything was covered under the clause."
Ianthi placed a finger on her cheek as she gave it thought. "Oh yeah, I remember now. He wanted us to do something about his family registry. Why are we going back? I thought the case was resolved, no?"
"It was," Edmond confirmed before trailing off. "However, Fletcher isn't our client this time around. Rather, he's more the subject of our case…"
Ianthi's curiosity peaked instantly and she smacked her lips as if anticipating something delicious. "Oh...?" she asked. "Do explain."
…
Edmond and Ianthi stopped at a corner. Before them lay the entrance of a network of alleyways, shrouded in an oppressive aura of dankness. It was gritty and neglected, a stark contrast to the clean and bustling streets beyond, and Fletcher's bookstore was nestled somewhere deep within.
"On second thought, maybe it's a good thing I didn't get takeout," Ianthi frowned before taking the lead. Edmond followed suit, carefully avoiding the puddles as they went. Raw sewage pooled in the corners, releasing an unpleasant odor that mingled with the air. Wet, discarded newspapers clung to the walls, their contents smudged and barely legible. Rust had also taken hold of the metal railings, adding a touch of decay to the desolate surroundings. After weaving through the maze-like twists and turns of the alleys, they finally arrived at the bookstore, the state of which was not much better than the alleys surrounding it. The perhaps once-brilliant storefront now bore the signs of struggle. Its weathered exterior told a story, with cracks snaking across the walls like rivers and chipped paint revealing decades-old colors hidden underneath. Albeit, nothing was rotting around it at the very least.
"Let's go inside," Edmond said. The smell of books caused his nose to tingle as he entered the bookstore. It was the scent of aged paper, vinegared, mingled with the faint remnants of ink. Shelves upon shelves stretched before them, each one filled with bound tomes that held contents that perhaps only a few had read. Such was the way with Arcanian tomes, each one painstakingly written by hand. They were expensive, bulky, and uncommon. One could find information here that they would not be able to find even if they scoured the entire internet.
Ianthi's heightened senses immediately noticed something amiss as she entered. She put a hand on Edmond's arm, stopping him, and leaned in to whisper near his ear, "The tipoff was right." Edmond looked at her, silently questioning her certainty. She nodded and elaborated, "Ilbak, it's being masked by the smell of books, but I know that taste in the air."
Ilbak, a highly illegal and potent Arcanian narcotic made from dried Steepsap found in Archa Astra. It was a substance that came into existence only after the rift era began, as the production process of Ilbak required an aether-free environment like Earth. Meeting this requirement, the produced Ilbak had a variety of different effects, ranging from hallucinations and feelings of doom, to anxiety and a loss of sense of self and attachment to reality.
Nodding, Edmond swept his gaze across the room, searching for Fletcher. He found the man reading a tome behind the counter. "Go look around discreetly while I talk to him. Be careful," he instructed her. She nodded in affirmation. While it was unlikely for there to be anything placed in the open, he trusted her ability to find what needed to be found. After all, the woman had more than a decade of experience working as a police investigator under the guild before coming under Arca Archa. He walked over to Fletcher and waved him down. "Mr. Fletcher!" he called out.
Fletcher saw Edmond and exclaimed, "Ah, if it isn't Mr. Edmond. It's been months. How have you been?" His voice carried surprise as well as a hint of unease.
Edmond stopped in front of the counter and offered a polite smile. "Good. Is that century-preserved ginseng?" he responded casually, steering the conversation toward the herbal artifacts on the shelf. Simultaneously, he assessed Fletcher's state of being.
"Ah yes, a good friend gifted it to me," Fletcher's eyes momentarily shone as he spoke, as if he had just received a compliment himself.
"Nice. So how's business? You seem to be doing well," Edmond continued, noticing the new watch gleaming on Fletcher's wrist.
"It's been going, alright," Fletcher huffed, his narrow tail smacking the chair discontentedly. "I'm still furious that insurance only paid out pennies! Do they even know how much those tomes were worth? They're hand-written and irreplaceable, each and every one of them! Ridiculous!"
"Tough, I know," Edmond shrugged. This was not the first time they had this conversation. When Fletcher realized Edmond was not going to offer him any pity, he changed the subject.
"Anyways, what brings you here? If you're here to buy, I recommend this one," he said, retrieving a heavy tone from behind the counter. He swept the dust from its cover, revealing a dark blue exterior. His tone brightened as he began to explain its contents. "This is a tome from the burned city of Orinthia. It's said to hold the secrets of their Great Sin within its pages. It's a great read, told in the form of two scholars debating."
…
Meanwhile, Ianthi's investigation continued discreetly, the rhythm of her actions resonating softly amidst the conversations of Edmond and Fletcher. She skillfully slipped out of sight, out of Fletcher's mind, while maintaining a watchful eye for anything out of place as she moved into the background. The place reminded her of an apothecary or herbal pharmacy, but there were no dried eyeballs, scorpion wine, or monkey paws found here. Only dusty old tomes adorned the shelves.
She cautiously opened one of these tomes. "It's a tome, alright," she commented, but suspicion lingered in her mind. She scraped the spine of the tome with her nails, where the pages were bound to the cover, before sniffing the residue and then even giving it a lick. "Steepsap," she confirmed. It had been used in the construction of the tome to bind its pages together. However, the mere presence of Steepsap did not automatically implicate Fletcher in the production of Ilbak. Steepsap was commonly used back on Archa Astra for the production of various items, ranging from furniture and tools to even articles of clothing. It was only after the discovery of the Ilbak-making process that Steepsap itself made it on the list of problematic substances here on Earth.
Ianthi recalled the legislative nightmares that unfolded when determining the new import bans. For example, when they debated whether or not it was permissible to bring in personal possessions containing Steepsap versus bringing it for sale. However, the key takeaway was that while many things became illegal to import, anything already present on Earth prior to the implementation of the ban remained legal to possess.
*…!*
She heard something— behind a wall. Her attention focused on a section where a shelf was noticeably less occupied than the others. She walked to it and noticed a draft emanating from the wall. She looked around cautiously, ensuring that Fletcher's attention was not on her before proceeding.
"There should be a lever somewhere," she mumbled, pulling on every single book on the shelf. When she tugged on something on the bottom shelf, she felt a mechanism click. "Got it," she smiled. With anticipation swirling in her mind, she glanced behind her again, just to confirm that Fletcher was still being distracted. Nodding when she saw that the coast was clear, she readied herself for anything that might jump out as she pulled the shelf aside and accessed the secret room.
A rush of damp air greeted her as she descended into the room below. She frowned, the scent of Ilbak hung heavy in the air, filling her lungs with each breath and clinging to her skin and clothes. She realized she would have to take a long and hot shower once she was back in the office. She turned a corner and laid her gaze upon the room's occupants: three Arcanians, each working at a station of their own, and each as surprised to see her as she was to find them.
She had found the Ilbak lab!
"Shit!" The largest of the three, a Canis man with a full sleeve of tattoos, stood from his seat and cursed. He towered over Ianthi, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. He clenched his fists, and sparks danced from his fingers as he manifested his artes.
Ianthi watched him carefully as he charged towards her. She could see the shimmer in his eyes, of aether raw and untamed. "Lame," she scoffed before equipping a barrier stick that had previously been strapped to her thigh. "Those who don't even know how to use their artes properly are no different than street punks— and there's no need for me to use my artes against some punks."
His first attack came in the form of a brilliant burst of light, illuminating the entire gloomy underground room. Ianthi raised her barrier stick, the aethertech mechanisms within flaring to life, creating a shimmering divide that blocked his assault like waves splashing against a barricade. The room echoed with the sound of clashing artes, the sheer force causing the walls to shudder and making the glass vials and beakers clatter.
"A barrier stick! I knew it, she's from the guild!" he gritted out. In response, Ianthi lunged forward, her barrier stick leaving streaks of blue light in its wake as she attacked with her razor-sharp nails. He swiftly took a step back, his own artes coiling up his arm like protective vambraces as he took the hit.
"Argh—! Surround her!" the Canis gritted in pain as he shouted to the other two Arcanians in the room. Snapping out of their stupor, they quickly surrounded Ianthi and channeled their artes to strike her down. Instantly, the room descended into chaos, with artes colliding against the walls and ceiling, wrecking havoc and breaking everything in sight.
It was utter chaos, yet Ianthi laughed as if she were playing a game. "Come on! You're all Arcanian, aren't you? Fight! Hahaha!" she exclaimed, fully immersed in the fray. Her movements were swift and purposeful, executed with precision and finesse. Like a skilled dancer, she seamlessly transitioned from dodging to blocking to retaliating, never once slowing or tripping up. It was three against one— a clear gang-up by any measure, yet Ianthi relished the thrill brought on by the danger. The way she saw it, it was a return to form, a rare moment to savor a joy of life that was not so appreciated on this side of the rift. At the end of the day, she was Arcanian after all.
…
Back above, in the dusty storefront where two men conversed, the echoes of the chaos below reached their ears. For one, time ground to a halt as the very room around him seemed to close in like a deadly vice.
"No!" Fletcher's cry broke out, his face as pale as the pages of the tomes that surrounded him. Lines of desperation etched themselves onto his face as he lunged over the counter, aiming for the back of the store where the hidden lab awaited. But Edmond was quicker. He positioned himself in Fletcher's path with swift and decisive grace. "Get out of my way!" Fletcher's voice held a raw, animalistic growl. "You have no idea how much I stand to lose!"
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Edmond's voice remained almost effortlessly calm in the face of Fletcher's storm. "I would advise you to stay put," he told him. The calm present was so jarring, in fact, that it stopped Fletcher in his tracks with uncertain fear shimmering in his eyes. As the sounds of the commotion from below continued, Edmond added, "You might be mistaken for someone hostile if you were to barge in."
"Are you threatening me?" Fletcher's teeth ground together as dozens of thoughts raced through his mind in an instant, each less pleasant than the last. Yet, despite his tone, he still conceded to Edmond's words in the end. He realized he would rather not risk getting hurt or even killed over the matter, as accidents of that nature did happen frequently enough. Begrudgingly, he uttered, "Fine. Threaten this old man into submission then."
"Good, I wouldn't want you to get hurt," Edmond quietly acknowledged, a nod of approval accompanying his words. "Now, why don't we have a little chat. Let's talk."
"What's there to talk about?" Fletcher huffed, clearly not in the mood for conversation.
Edmond ignored the old Sakliu's discontent and began to speak of rumors. "Word is, there's been a new Ilbak supplier in the neighborhood. They don't distribute much, and the quality isn't great, but it checks all the right boxes just the same. Know anything about it? Ilbak is a highly addictive and dangerous substance, capable of ruining the lives of many people and their families. It's banned in almost every country. I don't know why anyone would want to deal in such ruinous things just to make a quick buck."
"I… I don't know what you're talking about." Fletcher stammered, his eyes dancing around the same way a child would when suspected of wrongdoing.
"You're a terrible liar, Fletcher. Listen, fortune might not have smiled your way in recent times, but that does not mean you get a pass to do inexcusable things scot-free," Edmond shook his head, conveying his intentions earnestly. "I won't continue to beat around the bush. I know you're producing Ilbak here, Fletcher. If you quietly turn yourself in and willingly cooperate with the police, you might be able to lessen your punishment. I don't want to be the one to put you behind bars for the rest of your life, if I can help it."
"Why are you doing this?" Fletcher's voice was softer now. His anger had given way to confusion. "If you truly wanted to help me, you would have turned a blind eye, not… not whatever this is you're doing to me." His gaze flicked towards the secret door before returning to Edmond.
"I lost everything, Edmond," he whispered, his words heavy with despair, as if his heart had shattered. But that despair slowly grew to be something more. "That day... that rift event... It wrecked my store— my life. The insurance company, they scammed me. They didn't see the value of my tomes. To them, they were nothing more than a liability bound with Steepsap. They kept delaying, and delaying! By the time anything actually happened, my remaining tomes were already permanently damaged by the poor storage conditions they were subjected to! 'Good riddance,' they probably thought. So, fuck them! Fuck them all! If they were so afraid I might make Ilbak with my tomes, then I'll show them Ilbak! I'll turn everything into Ilbak!"
A bitter laugh tore itself from Fletcher. The sound was hollow and devoid of any real humor. "So this is to be my fate. To be ruined once again without even being able to take my revenge. I should never have come here. I should never have left Archa Astra. Tell me, Edmond, who sent you? Wei? John? Who? Whose life did I end up destroying? I know you wouldn't come to ruin a man's life without some sort of a just cause."
Edmond's response was straightforward, "The guild."
"The guild," The embers of Fletcher's anger smoldered once more at the mention of the name. "The guild that maimed my son and told him to fuck off back to Archa Astra if he can't fight? You mean that worthless fucking guild?! What happened to you, Edmond? Aren't you folks from Arca Archa supposed to be on our Arcanians' side? I was mistaken about you!"
Edmond took a deep breath, his gaze having never once wavered in the face of Fletcher's curses. His reply was firm, declaring with a resolve that snuffed out Fletcher's heat like wind extinguishing a candle. "I am on the Arcanians' side, Fletcher. That's why I'm here talking to you, giving you an option to turn yourself in, instead of allowing the police to get to you first," he stated. "But you… you're the one who's no longer on the Arcanians' side. Your actions have done nothing but harm, to both the people around you and to the public image of every Arcanian here on Earth."
…
"Hahaha!" Ianthi's joyful laughter filled the room as she continued to toy with her opponents. She was enjoying herself as she weaved in and out through their attacks, occasionally ducking, jumping, and pushing them against each other to disrupt their movements. It was like a high-stakes game of cat and mouse, and she had yet to be tagged by their clumsy movements.
"Who is this crazy bitch?"
"Get her!"
"You get her!"
"No, you get her!"
"Fuck, you hit me again!"
As the fight progressed, the desperation of the three Arcanians quickly grew. Glass shattered, tables overturned, and chemicals spilled with every missed strike. Their attacks became more chaotic as they grew more frantic, resulting in haphazard attacks flying everywhere and wreaking havoc in the lab.
Realizing what was going on, Ianthi let out a sigh of irritation. Just when she was starting to have some fun too! But if things continued the way they were, there would be nothing left of the lab by the time she was done.
"Alright. Fun's over," she said, pulling out a knife from her waist and channeling her artes into it. The blade crackled with raw aetherial energy briefly before emitting a soft, refined, turquoise aura of Ianthi's own color. With a swift movement, she blitzed them. Moving quicker than they could avoid, she slashed each of them only once: on the arm, on the leg, and on the back. After that, all three of them fell to the ground, motionless. A single scratch was all it took for her arte to paralyze and incapacitate them.
The room fell into an eerie silence as the sounds of combat suddenly vanished. Ianthi looked around and inspected the damages. Most of it was wrecked, but she managed to save the lab before it completely fell into ruins. "Oh boy." she sighed, feeling a throbbing headache come on as she could imagine Edmond definitely scolding her for her sloppy work. She had done it again.
However, just as Ianthi relaxed, an unexpected shadow flew out from the darkness behind her. She saw hands, each missing a few fingers, but before she had enough time to react, she felt a wire rope wrap around her neck, garroting her. "Ack—!" her throat emitted a choked sound as pain coursed through her.
Who was it? Who had managed to sneak up behind her? She had not noticed anyone else in the room just a moment before, so it must have been someone hiding the entire time through a concealment arte. But if they were there, why did they not join the fight? Did they feel they could not win even if they joined? Was that why they waited until she lowered her guard to ambush her? Ianthi had numerous questions, but they all faded into irrelevant noise, quickly drowned out by the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears. The threat of dying had suddenly become alarmingly real.
Her survival instincts blared, overriding everything else in her consciousness. She struggled with everything she had— First, dedicating one hand to digging her fingers underneath the wires. She would have to alleviate pressure off her carotid arteries to buy herself precious moments of time before unconsciousness. Then, she turned her knife around and stabbed the body behind her. There was no elegance behind it, no arte, no skill, no show. It was just an honest to goodness stab. It was all she could manage in her current state of mind, but her efforts were rewarded with a masculine grunt of pain.
As soon as she stabbed the man, however, the world turned as he twisted his body, taking her along with him. The knife tore from her grasp, clanging against the concrete floor before she crashed down beside it. "Urgh…" she gasped with what little air that leaked out. If it were not for the wire constricting her neck, she would have felt everything being expelled from her lungs by the impact. Yet, there was little comfort to be found as her vision blurred and darkness encroached on the edges of her sight.
She reached for her knife, but he yanked her back, preventing her from reaching it. The pressure around her neck steadily increased. In her struggle, the knife was kicked away, spurned by her own frantic actions. Yet, starved of air and fighting to remain conscious, she showed no signs of surrender. Even as the man maneuvered himself into a rear chokehold, she relentlessly struck his body with her elbow, hammering him, hoping to worsen the earlier stab wound or even break a rib. Anything to loosen his grip.
She was on the verge of blacking out. Her fingers grew numb under the wire, and she felt her heart pounding out of her chest. In a final, desperate bid for survival, she even put her constrictor tail to use, coiling it tightly around the man's body. With every last ounce of her remaining strength, she exerted pressure on his neck, seeking to inflict the same suffocating grip he had over her.
"Gah…!"
"…!"
It felt like an eternity had passed, but in this battle of endurance, the man's grip faltered first, his body slumping as he finally fell unconscious. Ianthi tore the wire off her neck and gasped for breath. "Ah... that was a close one," she said, her hand coming up to massage her neck. He was skilled, far superior to the three punks from earlier. Given the concealment arte he had employed, she even suspected that he was a veteran member of the guild. However, she pushed these thoughts aside and focused on finding her knife. "It's not over until it's over," as they would say.
Once she retrieved her knife, she applied her soft turquoise-colored arte to ensure the man would not rise again to attack her. With that task completed, the battle had finally concluded. She could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
…
…
Edmond and Fletcher waited in tense silence as they heard the commotion from below die down, before returning briefly, and then ceasing entirely. Looking over to Fletcher, Edmond could see that the old Sakliu was quickly devolving into a nervous wreck. Fletcher's teeth were chattering and his brow was glistening with sweat. Before long, a noise started coming up from the stairs and a figure emerged. It was Ianthi, in a severe state of disheveledness.
"Well, I found the lab," Ianthi simply said, her voice raspy and weary.
"Are you alright?" Edmond asked, his gaze lingering on the bruise around her neck. The mark left by the wire was a stark contrast to her otherwise pale skin.
"No, I'm not," she shook her head and replied. "Let's just get this over with. I want to go back to the office and take a shower." She gestured for him to follow.
Edmond nodded, then turned to Fletcher, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Come, let's take a walk," he told the old Sakliu before gently urging him forward.
Fletcher followed without uttering a single word. Flanked by Ianthi at the front and Edmond at the back, his steps were slow. Upon reaching the secret door, which had been left open by Ianthi, Fletcher reacted with fear. Although it was obvious that she must have discovered it in the first place to reach the lab, a part of him still clung to hope, a delusion that perhaps his secret remained safe and everything was just an elaborate bluff. However, when they descended to the lab and were met with the sight of what resembled the aftermath of an earthquake, the man broke.
"No… no… no… It's over," Fletcher mourned, his eyes darting rapidly between the broken tables, shattered vials, and spilled chemicals pooling on the floor. "It's all gone..." He lost strength in his legs and crumpled to the ground, as though his will to live had been completely drained.
Then his gaze fell upon the bodies scattered on the floor— four individuals with their hands and legs bound by a long wire rope. Fletcher stammered, attempting to rush towards the bodies, but lacking the strength, he tripped and clambered forward instead. "Son!" he cried out, his voice trembling with fear as he reached the one whose clothes were stained red with blood. But there was something else in his voice as well: guilt, or perhaps regret. "The guild already took away your future, don't let your father take away your life too!"
"Don't worry, I've already administered first aid for the stab wound," Ianthi reassured, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch her neck where the memory of the struggle was fresh. "The bastard nearly got me earlier, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let him die now that he's incapacitated. That being said, he'll still need an ambulance to get him to the hospital soon, if you want to give him the best chance of survival."
"You heard her, Fletcher," Edmond addressed the old man. "What will you do? Time is precious. The sooner you agree to work with us, the sooner we can call an ambulance for your son."
"I'll do it! I'll do it! Just don't let my son die!" Fletcher begged.
Once Fletcher agreed to cooperate, Edmond swiftly contacted the guild using his hotline. Time was of the essence as a life hung in the balance. During the brief waiting period before the guild's arrival, Edmond approached Fletcher's son, who regarded him with a mix of pain and trepidation. However, Edmond simply crouched down to speak with him.
As Edmond engaged in conversation, Ianthi observed in silence. From where she was, she was unable to hear everything, but she picked up on the gist of their conversation: something about a Visa, the guild, and a program aimed at providing aid to Arcanians maimed by guild activities. The man's look slowly transitioned from fear as their conversation progressed, eventually turning into hope as Edmond handed over his business card.
Ianthi watched Edmond with a tired smile. There was no doubt that her boss was doing something to help the man— to help an Arcanian. She did not know how Edmond could keep up doing this kind of thing for so many years, extending a helping hand and offering second chances no matter how badly someone had messed up. It was something she herself could not do. It was already a stretch for her to refrain from kicking the man who nearly choked her out and instead administer first aid. However, this perplexity was also the reason she held great respect for Edmond. Even after all these years, she had yet to regret leaving the guild to work under Arca Archa, to work under Edmond.
…
…
After a long day's hard work, Edmond and Ianthi returned to Arca Archa's office, where comfort awaited them. Suppressing a yawn, Ianthi stretched her arms languidly overhead. "I'm going to use the office shower before going home to get some rest. Good night," she declared, deftly unknotting her hair with her fingers.
"You did well today," Edmond stated. "Take some rest."
Upon dismissing Ianthi and walking into the lounging area, however, Edmond's gaze fell upon an unexpected visitor bearing a familiar face. Standing with his front facing the corkboard of pictures on the wall was a man whose face resembled that of a lion—intimidating and fierce, yet clearly human. A familiar jolt stirred in Edmond's chest. "Oryza," he greeted, feeling a smile tugging at his lips despite his astonishment.
"Edmond," Oryza said as the two exchanged casual pleasantries. "I just heard from my secretary that you have already solved Fletcher's case. Congratulations. You work as quickly as ever."
"Come on, surely you didn't travel all the way here just to pat me on the back," Edmond said as he shook his head. "The great and important director of the guild? Since when did you have so much free time on your hands?"
"Don't be like that. Right now, I'm just some guy coming to see his old friend," Oryza chuckled loudly. While it was true that he was the director of the guild of Singapore, he had been friends with Edmond long before that. In fact, he was someone who stood side-by-side with Edmond in many of the photos pinned to the office corkboard.
"It would be great if life truly was that simple. Milk tea?" Edmond offered, shifting towards the kitchen.
"Milk tea," Oryza confirmed with a nod.
A mutual silence pervaded the office as Edmond made tea, disturbed only by the sound of boiling water. Yet, the silence was not uncomfortable. The two had known each other for too long for there to be any awkwardness remaining between them. Before long, the robust aroma of milk tea filled the lounge. Oryza received the steaming cup with a nod of gratitude before drawing in a deep breath and savoring the scent.
Oryza took a sip and remarked, "Tastes the same even after twenty years," a hint of a smile lingering on his lips. "Just as Verretheia preferred. She'd be proud, you know. And I'm not just talking about the tea. She would genuinely be proud of what you have managed to accomplish with Arca Archa over the past twenty years. The other day, I heard a woman talk about how she and her family would have had to go back to Archa Astra if it weren't for Arca Archa's aid. And I met a man on my way here who couldn't stop singing praises for Arca Archa for saving his livelihood. But I have to wonder… if this is truly what you wanted to do when you left the guild that day? Or are you merely chasing after the lingering will of a phantom?"
Edmond stayed silent.
"But, I digress," Oryza shrugged, shifting the conversation as he put down the cup. "I have a request. First, watch this," he said, his voice taking on a whole different tone compared to before. He pulled out a phone and showed a video, several videos actually. He remained silent during the showing, electing to let Edmond finish watching first, before saying anything. This was a process familiar to Edmond from his days at the guild, so he understood the protocol.
Edmond's gaze narrowed as he watched the footage. First, he saw an obscured girl standing in front of a rift. Holding out her hand, she closed a spontaneous rift that had just emerged. Then, in the following video, he saw that same girl being saved from elementals by a middle-aged man. Lastly, there was a three-second clip of the girl being hoisted over the man's shoulder as they escaped from pursuing elementals. It was painstakingly obvious now. The girl, with bright azure hair like the clear blue sky, was none other than…
"I need you to—" Oryza began, however, he was abruptly silenced by a single word.
"No." Edmond's refusal was clear even before hearing Oryza's request. "I'm afraid I can't help you this time around."
"Edmond," Oryza warned, "don't don't this. You know that she is not her."
"No," Edmond shook his head. The man had no intention of backing down.
Oryza remained silent as he stared into Edmond's eyes, attempting to glimpse at the thoughts that were buried deep within his old friend's gaze. "I see, that's unfortunate," Oryza replied, his face giving nothing away as he spoke. "I was going to try to get you to accept no matter what, but out of respect for our friendship, I will honor your decision. The guild will no longer pursue this matter. You have my word."
Oryza paused, allowing his words to sink in. His voice expressed genuine truth. Edmond understood that and nodded. He continued, "However, these videos I have shown you here today were all compiled from public image boards on the internet. The guild is not the only one who has taken notice of the Rift Closer. Others will not be as kind and diplomatic as I am. I wanted to offer her asylum within the safety of the guild, but I suppose you already knew that. If you truly wish to protect her freedom and keep her safe, you will have to find a way to deal with them. You might not be able to maintain your low profile for much longer, it would seem. Twenty years... one would think that amount of time would be enough for anyone to set aside their grievances. A storm is brewing, Edmond. See to it that you won't get blown away when it hits. You are, after all, her Chosen. If it's you, you should be able to handle it."
Standing up, Oryza adjusted his suit and took his leave. However, as he opened the door, he turned his head to say one last thing to Edmond. "Thanks for the milk tea. It was good. Let's have another drink together someday. I'll bring some rice crackers."
"Yeah," Edmond gruffed out, "Sure."
…
All of a sudden, the office was engulfed in a haunting atmosphere. Edmond was left in a pensive mood but decided to put aside his thoughts for the time being. He addressed the vacant office loudly, "Angelica!"
"Eep!" A gasp reverberated through the room as Angelica, who had previously thought she was hidden, came out from behind the couch with her hair standing on end. She tried to explain herself frantically. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything! I dropped something behind the couch, and I was trying to reach for it when the director came in! I was so surprised to see a big shot like him that I lost my chance to come out! And then you came back and started chatting with him!"
"It's fine," Edmond reassured her. "It doesn't matter. As a matter of fact, it saves me the trouble of explaining it."
"R-Really?" she asked nervously.
"Angelica," Edmond called her name again, bringing her to an alert stance. "Keep an eye out for Canaria."
"Yes! Will do!" she said energetically. "I couldn't fully make out what you two were talking about from over here, but the gist of it is that some bad people want to get a hold of Aria, right?"
Edmond nodded. "That's right. From now on, that will be your top priority. You can be around her, but just don't let her find out that you're there to act as a bodyguard. Not yet, at least."
"Aye, sir!" the Felid girl saluted, her ears perking stiffly in the air, before she then bolted out the door.
Oryza had left. Angelica was gone. Ianthi was still taking a shower. Now, finally, Edmond was left alone in the lounge. Taking a deep breath, he resisted the overwhelming urge to exhale a deep sigh. "Someone with the ability to forcibly close a rift," the man muttered under his breath, his mind flashing to a certain, charming, kind, beautiful, and loving person. If it was someone with the ability to close a rift, then he knew of just one other— whose sharp, yet tender, gaze watched over him from one of the photos on the bulletin board…
"Verretheia."
He whispered her name, and with it, two decades of pain, anguish, and grief flooded the void in his heart. His most beloved Verretheia, whose sudden disappearance twenty-four years ago still haunted him like a ghost to this day. He could not forget it, her final words as she banished him from the rift and closed the path behind her.
"Don't worry, Edmond. I'll protect you."
In an instant, the scar of countless restless nights surged down on his shoulders and made his entire being shake from the inside out. Although many of his close friends and comrades have told him to give up and to accept the truth that Verretheia had died back there, the man could never accept such an outcome. No, he could never, not when it pertained to Verretheia, not until he saw a body. Yet, after two decades without any news, even his unshakable will started to tremble at its foundations. However, twenty-four years after her disappearance, he had finally met someone who had the same ability as her. Could this somehow be a lead? Was 24-year-old Canaria related to Verretheia in some key way? Or was he simply grasping at straws?
Hope— but with it, also came fear. If Canaria really was the lead he had been looking for this whole time, was he truly prepared to find out what lay at the end of this pursuit? What if the answer found was not the one he had been hoping for— wishing for? The truth might utterly break him. Truly, what was a man to do?
Edmond took the pendant resting over his chest and clasped it tightly against his brows. He squeezed his eyes shut as if shutting out the world. Here, nothing else mattered— not Oryza, not Arca Archa, not even Canaria who led his heart to waver. All that resounded in his world was a simple but earnest thought.
"I just want to see you again, Verretheia, so… very much."
As he uttered these words, the sound of the door brought Edmond out of his reverie. It was Angelica, who had bolted out of the office earlier. She returned with a complicated expression, her face a mixture of uncertainty and concern, as if she could not decide whether to panic or not.
"Uh… boss? Sorry to disturbe you while you're having a moment, but, um…"
"Speak," Edmond replied, feeling a tinge of annoyance at Angelica's hesitation.
"Well, you see, I know you just asked me to keep an eye on Aria, but she hasn't responded to my texts all day. I know she's at work, but it's strange because when I checked her location, she's nowhere near her workplace."
Edmond's brows furrowed in concern. "…What?"
…
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