“98… 99… 100…”

And with a huff Elmer released his grip from the pull up bar that was fixed above the frame of his door, causing him to drop back down to the floor with a very stable landing technique, one which involved his arms being outstretched and his toes curled up slightly to initiate balance.

On him was the lower part of his workout attire, a brown lightweight trouser of cotton made specifically for ease of movement, flexibility, and free flow of the genitals all men possessed.

And because his body was not completely covered, that allowed the mildly defined muscles his lean figure had come to have to be visible, and furthermore, smeared by countless tears of sweat. No less dampened as well was his brown spiky hair which was made weird by the indiscernible congestion of white lodged at its top.

Now with his under feet feeling the cold sensation of his floorboards, Elmer took a moment to look at how much his biceps had developed compared to when he had started his workouts two months ago. And it was very little.

He wanted more muscle growth.

“I need to get a membership for a gym soon. The home workouts aren’t doing so much for my physicality any longer, even though the supernatural is enhancing my improvement speed.”

Elmer’s breathing and voice was a little bit ragged, causing him to clear his throat after his talk.

The effects of using the essence color of gray, which represented depreciation, to obscure his real voice always took too long to fade away, even after he’d used the essence of vitality to hasten the process.

He also hated the feeling of irritation his throat always had after he’d dispersed the spirituality essence of gray from swirling about his gullet.

But he knew he had no other choice than to rely on it.

At least he never took too long with his exploits so he was yet to go too far with its usage. He didn’t even want to find out what would happen to his throat if he did. The supernatural was no joke.

Elmer snatched a small woolen towel from the wooden coat stand beside the door, which had a brown flat cap hanging from it, and used it to clean off the sweat on both his glasses and body. After which he strode toward the reading desk that was placed to the corner of his room before a portion of the walls hidden by black curtains. There was a silver pocket watch placed directly in its center, but it was not for it Elmer had approached the desk.

Sending the towel to his moist hair from his slightly sinewy chest, where the intricate goblet representing the Crest of Souls was to its left, and the jagged circular clock representing the Crest of Time was to its right, Elmer shifted the black curtains open. And to his narrow, tired eyes came into view an array of yellowish papers—filled with clues of some sort—glued to the white-painted wall, and a line of red threads running through each one like intertwining rail tracks.

It had the outlook of a map, only it was actually a lesser detailed version of an investigation board—one he had designed himself.

Elmer pulled the middle paper bearing the name ‘Egor Mason’ off his investigation wall, his mind replaying the events of the past night before further backtracking to the beginning of it all—how he had come to start having such an unusual design of papers and threads glued to his wall.

…

As soon as morning had broken on the brand new day that came after he’d committed his unforgettable heinous acts against Eddie and Ms. Edna, Elmer had picked himself up from his dead landlord’s floor—where he’d passed out during his successful ascent into the Echelon 9 rank—and hurried to Mabel after paying his respects to the man who’d helped him turn into an Ascender.

With what had remained of the sixty percent pay he’d gotten from Sir Reginald for his retrieval of The Warlock’s Torch—which was still above a thousand mints—he’d taken his things and his sister and headed discreetly, as well in a hurry, to the upper parts of the Backwaters—the Red-Brick District. A place occupied by those of the working class; people who were mildly better off than the peasants.

He’d made the decision of that place being his new home as soon as he’d received the rest of his pay from Sir Reginald, figuring that there would have been no place better and more affordable for him.

Upon arriving at High street in the Red-Brick District, Elmer had paid a quarterly fee of two hundred and fifty mints for a small one-storey detached house with three bedrooms—the only that had been available.

He’d not tried to simply rent a room in an apartment because he wanted to keep himself and his life private, and becoming a tenant in a building full of people would do little to hide his identity, but instead reveal it to the masses more and more.

He had also created a different name in that regard, going from Elmer Hills to Floyd Edgar for every purchase he’d made in public, while being constantly filled with tension and wariness for his surroundings. At the time, his flickering gaze had not hidden his suspiciousness for every single person who’d stolen a glance at him. He’d had to confirm that he was not being watched—that he was not being followed.

There had been a lingering fear that he would be found through divination when the Ascender who had taken on his case went to Ms. Edna’s home and met with Kate.

The young lady of the Smyth surname had seen him, so a description would not have been difficult to obtain from her.

In fact, considering how it had gone with him and the boy in dungaree, his exact description was not needed.

If the Ascender after him could get a hand on any of his properties, it did not matter how vague the description penned down was, he would be found. And he had left a property at Ms. Edna’s home on the night he’d taken a step to become a corrupted one—his bag of divination materials.

Though that also proved true for the form he had filled being in The Glowing Eye bureau.

Any of those could be used for his divination.

But when half a month had passed and no one had come to ambush him, Elmer had reached upon a finalization that the Ascender who had taken on his case had never visited Kate.

Probably because of the same reason as that which involved the police officials of the city being kept out of anything relating to the supernatural, as they had not the capabilities to curb it.

She was a daughter whose mother had been murdered, and enlightening her about the one who had committed the crime would only fill her with thoughts of revenge—that would have been anything but pleasant for the Church to handle.

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But that had not been all. It was not necessary for them to have visited Kate because the bureau also held something he’d come in contact with. So why had his location not been divined with that?

Was it that they already had and were just keeping an eye on him, or was it that they couldn’t divine his location for some reason?

It had taken tremendous willpower from Elmer to force himself away from those thoughts, which were impossible to answer, and put his mind on something else—something that had been equally important.

A job.

November had been drifting by quickly then, and so had his money. He knew he could not work in a public job as that would expose his existence to the world, and slowly but surely, drag his nemesis toward him, putting him in a tight spot since he would be unprepared for such an encounter.

There had been only one other thing he could do besides meager jobs, and that was bounty hunting.

It had taken him a few days but he had finally come up with an idea which he’d believed would benefit him in more ways than one.

He had recalled his thesis that not all Ascenders had licenses, and that those who didn’t would be committing crimes without having anything to put them on a leash.

And in the light of that, he had decided to become that leash by taking on odd jobs and earning money through punishing unlicensed Ascenders—and even normal criminals, if the pay was good—via the request of their victims. At the same time he would make use of the opportunity to set up a trap for the bounty hunter that was seeking him.

He was not planning on being stuck as an Ascender of the Echelon 9 forever. Ascension was a must since he needed the strength and knowledge required for him to be able to stand toe to toe with the Ascenders of Andhera.

Knowledge was power after all, and the only way he could get more knowledge was by ascending to the Upper Echelon.

He had a feeling that once he’d gotten to that stage, his words would be taken seriously by the Church. And even though a god couldn’t go against another god—hence the Church would be unable to grant him any help in his cause to retrieve Mabel’s soul—he might at least have a shot at accessing the deeper secrets of the supernatural.

Some information in there would most definitely be of help to him. Something would.

Therefore he had to defeat the bounty hunter who had taken on the job to rid the world of him, and ascend into their rank, since they would obviously be a higher ranked Ascender than him.

But taking them head-on like he’d done for Ms. Edna and Eddie would never pan out right since his foe would differ from them by being on a high alert, so he had to gain the upper hand someway. And that was by leading them straight into a trap, using the alias ‘The Reaper’.

…

“Four jobs now,” Elmer mumbled as he squeezed the paper in his palm and tossed it into the home waste bin beside his desk with perfect precision. “I hope that bounty hunter connects the dots quickly; there’s no time to waste.”

After a sigh of exasperation, he dragged his gaze toward the medium sized bed upon a simply designed wooden frame set on the opposite side of the room.

The light of mid-morning—unrestricted by the parted black curtains—poured in from the sash window carved into the wall there, and brought Mabel into his view. She was lying on the bed, her eyes the same as it always was, staring straight up at the tongue and groove ceiling above.

She was dressed in a simple home gown of purple, reminiscent of the lavender flower, and around her on the walls were tens of paintings of scenery, depicting meadows during both sunset and sunrise.

One even looked fairly similar to the meadow at Meadbray, but Elmer knew it was not. To get an artist to paint that meadow specifically would be quite expensive, so he settled for the makeshift. He could pay for the real painting later on once he had more money.

After a glimpse through the room’s window of the people dressed in clothes suited for the cold weather traversing the snow-shaven roads of High street, Elmer dragged his towel off his head and pulled his desk chair backward by its top rail. But just as he was about to sit he heard a knuckle tap on his room’s door three times resulting in a rhythmic knock.

“Master Floyd, Madame Mabel’s hot water is ready.”

The muffled voice that had flown into his room was of a tone bright and quiet. It was the one of his soft-spoken maid, Mary.

Elmer had employed her within the early days of the third week of December to have her take on the meager tasks of keeping his home in good condition.

He had done so keeping in mind that after every odd job completed he would be quite exhausted and be unable to do those duties himself. And also if the jobs involved some sort of investigation to be carried out then he would not be able to look after Mabel during the day, and he was not going to have her skip her meals any longer. It was bad for her health.

Having taken that into account, he had gone to the least known servant registry in Ur, Emmy’s Young Servants’ Registry, in order to avoid both coming across someone he knew—even though they were few—and employ a serving maid he could afford.

The bigger the registry, the higher the fee, so the smallest he had gone to.

It had taken a couple hours of interviews when he had gone to Emmy’s Young Servants’ Registry, but finally he had stumbled upon Mary Thatcher. A young girl of sixteen with sunken sky-blue eyes and rosy skin, as well as honey-blonde hair, shaggy and long, but well packed into a ponytail.

She had claimed to hail from Fishersbay, a countryside village close to Burkney, the city of the Goddess of Earth

That statement alone had earned a large mark over the other ladies Elmer had interviewed. He could easily relate with someone who was of somewhat similar origins as he. And not to mention that she only knew little about the city and the supernatural since she’d just arrived a couple days back.

She had then further told him of her inexperience in the field of servanthood as well, as she had only worked with her father, who was a stable hand, to take care of horses and their dungs. But she was willing to learn, and that was enough for Elmer. Well, that and the fact that she knew how to cook.

Having been satisfied with Mary, Elmer had agreed on a hundred mints as her yearly salary—an average of one mint per week, not considering allowances—and he would also provide her with food and lodging.

Then he settled on that with the new-to-the-city young lady, paid her employment fee of a hundred and fifty mints—the fifty for having used the registry’s boothe for his interviews—and took her to his home.

…

Elmer freed his chair from his grasp.

“Thank you, Mary,” he replied to his maid who was on the other side of his room’s door, the raspiness of his throat somewhat diminished now. “I’ll be right there.”

“What soup should I make for Madame Mabel today, Master?” Mary asked as soon as she’d gotten her reply for her first question.

“Hmm…” Elmer took a moment to sort out the options he had in mind, and at last decided on the one he felt best. “Vegetable soup is okay.”

He had settled on that because of how versatile the soup was due to the variety of vegetables, broth, and seasonings that were used as its ingredients, making it extremely nutritious and packed with vitamins and minerals. And since it was the winter period, he needed Mabel’s immunity to be well enhanced.

“I’ll get to making it now. What would you like for breakfast, Master?”

“Something light. Toasted bread and bacon should be fine for both of us. We still have enough for two, right?”

“For two…?” Mary trailed off at first, seemingly forgetting that Elmer had agreed to feed her. “Ah… Yes. Yes we do. I’ll get to making it now.”

“Also, write me a list of the things that have run out, I’ll have them bought.”

“Yes. I’ll get to writing it now.”

Elmer chuckled softly. “Do one at a time. Breakfast first.”

“Oh. Yes. I’ll get to making breakfast now.”

It took a few seconds, customary of Mary’s behavior to wait a while in case any other order was coming, before Elmer heard her footsteps receding quietly.

She had a natural knack for stealth.

Elmer heaved out a deep breath, hid his investigation wall behind the curtains tasked with the mission for that, and strolled to the double wardrobe that was located beside his clothes rack, his used towel in hand.

There he took out a white home-shirt to cover his upper body—and the crests on his chest—along with new sets of clothes for both him and his sister, before picking her up and heading for the bathroom.