Chapter 125: Strategic Discussions

Abel sat across from Mayor Elliot in the practical office of his First Street estate. The room’s heavy oak desk and worn leather chairs reflected both authority and countless intense discussions. Thick drapes softened the light filtering through tall windows, adding to the weighty atmosphere.

Elliot clasped his hands, his expression etched with thought. "The organization backing you has confirmed what we feared—Reinhart is changing, drawn deeper into magic’s grasp," he said gravely. "Magic attracts more magic… and danger, the families might not be aware."

Abel leaned forward, sensing the mayor’s struggle between responsibility and uncertainty.

“Equipping our enforcers with magical artifacts might seem wise,” Elliot continued, “but many of these items come with severe side effects. Without proper knowledge, we risk doing more harm than good.”

Abel nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth of Elliot’s concerns. "What if we created a controlled environment? Use the town’s library as a training hub. Teach basic magical knowledge to prevent accidents while keeping dangerous items monitored.”

Elliot rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I'm sure you're well aware that the organization authorized limited magical education... Something like this could work. I'm sure you have more details on this than I do.” His voice gained a hint of resolve.

Abel’s sharp mind seized the opportunity. “We could also seize illegal magical artifacts from the criminal underworld. Inspect them, test them, and—if deemed safe—arm the enforcers. It keeps contraband off the streets while bolstering the town’s defenses.”

Though Elliot nodded in agreement, Abel’s true motive lay beneath the surface. Understanding these artifacts would be critical in navigating the unfolding magical reality, his knowledge would grow and the town would too.

After a long pause, Elliot rose. “I’ll arrange for a secret room in the library—discreet and secure. We’ll build something useful from this chaos.”

The crackling fire in Elliot’s office cast flickering shadows across the dark oak-paneled room as he proposed including representatives from Reinhart's prominent families in magical knowledge sessions. "Perhaps involving them will prevent magical mishaps born from ignorance," he suggested, his voice steady but contemplative.

Still, Elliot also recognized the challenge of gaining the cooperation of influential families within Reinhart. "We’ll need their support—and discretion, On top of the fact that more families are trying to move to our growing town,” he added cautiously.

Abel folded his arms thoughtfully. “Draw up a list, but be selective. With Fifth Street expanding westward, Reinhart is becoming a beacon. Families from Bask will apply for residency—but power seekers could cause trouble. We need to evaluate them carefully.”

Elliot nodded, his expression serious. “Two influential families have already submitted applications. I may need your insight into magical aptitude before granting approvals.”

Abel concurred and then raised the topic with Elliot, his tone measured but firm. “I think we should consider passing laws regarding the possession and public display of magical artifacts. While their ownership should be legal since we can't control it, brandishing or using them publicly without explicit permission from the Enforcement Office should be strictly prohibited. This would curb unnecessary chaos and ensure the town's and its people's safety.”

Elliot listened attentively, his expression thoughtful. Abel continued, elaborating on a second idea. “In addition, we should consider a registration system for the magical artifacts already in circulation—especially those owned by the more influential families. Having a record of their capabilities and locations could help us monitor potential misuse and respond more effectively if an artifact-related incident occurs.”

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Elliot nodded slowly at the first proposal. “Preventing public use without authorization makes sense. It would discourage reckless behavior and give the Enforcement Office a firmer handle on maintaining order. But the registration system... that’s going to be a harder sell.”

His voice grew more cautious as he elaborated. “The bigger families value their privacy and autonomy. Asking them to divulge details about their magical artifacts might be seen as overreach—an infringement on their independence. They’d likely push back, arguing that it puts them at a disadvantage against rivals or makes them a target for theft.”

Abel acknowledged the concern with a nod. “That’s fair. The families might see registration as a threat to their power or a breach of trust. We don’t want to create more friction than necessary.”

Elliot leaned back, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk. “We can move forward with the first law—banning the public display or use of magical artifacts without approval from the Enforcement Office. It’s a reasonable step that focuses on public safety rather than control. That should strike a balance between protecting the town and avoiding unnecessary conflict with the families. I will speak to them privately.”

Abel agreed, his gaze steady. “Let’s start there. Over time, if the law proves effective and gains the families’ trust, we can revisit the idea of registration. For now, the priority is preventing chaos and ensuring the safety of mundanes who might be caught in the crossfire.”

The two men shared a moment of mutual understanding. With magical artifacts becoming more commonplace and their potential for destruction undeniable, striking a balance between regulation and freedom was essential to keeping Reinhart stable. While challenges remained, both felt they had taken an important first step.

After discussing logistics, Abel rose, offering a firm nod before leaving. As it rumbled through quiet cobbled streets, Abel’s gaze turned skyward.

The North, East, and West Stars shimmered with sharp brilliance—but the southern sky remained starkly empty, devoid of its guiding light. Was this due to the dormant dungeons or something far greater? His mind raced with possibilities—perhaps answers lay in the unseen reaches of the southern lands.

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Back at the Starry Villa, Lena sat on the edge of her bed, her crimson-gloved hand resting on her lap. The intricate, twisted markings that crawled along its surface pulsed faintly in the dim glow of the room, like veins feeding a living, ominous entity. She fidgeted with the glove absently, the thrill of its raw power battling against the growing concern in her mind.

Her mind wandered to her earlier practice sessions in the villa’s private yard. The arm encased changed by the glove had felt unyielding, like steel, its strength far surpassing anything she had experienced before. When it bulged and darkened, the transformation was monstrous, its sheer power capable of breaking bones and shattering stone with ease.

The hand’s razor-sharp crimson nails, emanating a faint but unmistakably vile aura, were sharper than the finest blades she had ever seen. With a casual swipe, they could slice through dense wood as if it were paper. And when she hurled her throwing knives using the transformed arm, they moved with blinding, supernatural speed, embedding themselves deep into targets with terrifying precision.

But Lena knew that every artifact came with a price. The curse tied to this one was the itching—a torment that worsened the longer she used the glove.

The glove’s side effects were undeniable, and she couldn’t ignore the faint, insidious itch that crept up her arm whenever she used it. At first, it was barely noticeable, but with extended use, the itch became unbearable, like invisible claws raking at her skin. It was a maddening sensation, and she shuddered to think of the moments when it nearly drove her to scratch herself raw. She clenched her glove, determination burning in her eyes. Whatever the cost, she would master it.

Her resolve was firm. This new life in Reinhart was her chance to leave the shadows of her past behind—the days of hunger, homelessness, and being dismissed as insignificant. The glove, as twisted as it was, represented an opportunity she couldn’t afford to squander.

Her thoughts turned to Abel, the man who had given her this new path. There was something undeniably special about him—his power, his knowledge, and the quiet confidence that seemed to set him apart from anyone she had ever met. She couldn’t place it exactly, but she felt drawn to him, compelled to support him in whatever way she could.

If she followed Abel, Lena believed she could grow stronger alongside him. Her power would no longer be something she merely dreamed of; it would become a reality. With strength like hers and a future tied to Abel’s rising path, she knew one thing for certain: she would never go back to the life of a starving, desperate outcast.

For the first time in years, Lena felt hope—and she intended to hold onto it with everything she had.