Jane and Peter found Eva sitting in the hotel lounge.
"Come on," Jane said.
Eva stood up and followed them into the restaurant. They picked the table farthest from the other customers.
"In their last attack, the Atlantian Legacy mainly used fire users," Jane said. "But we can't be sure they'll do the same this time."
Peter and Eva nodded, thinking about it.
"I checked the situation in that country. They're using wraiths to weaken the defenses, but no enemy diabolists have shown up yet," Jane continued.
"So they're waiting for the defenses to break before they step in," Peter said.
"Exactly. But if they want the wraiths to keep coming, their diabolists must be nearby," Jane added.
"So, what's the plan?" Eva asked.
"There isn't one yet. We'll figure it out as we go," Jane said.
"That's a bad plan," Eva said.
Jane glared at her. "Do you have a better one?"
Eva ignored her.
"Okay, how are we getting there?" Peter asked.
"I could teleport us," Eva suggested.
"No!" Jane and Peter said at the same time.
Eva's teleportation could take them long distances, but she couldn't control where they landed. They had tried it once and ended up in a forest, a desert, near an active volcano, and even inside a prison. It had taken them a whole week to get back home.
Because of this, they only used teleportation when she and Peter were merged. Even then, they stuck to short distances.
"How do you expect us to get there, then?" Eva asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We fly," Jane said.
"From here to that country? You have really high expectations of Peter… and yourself," Eva commented.
"Don't worry about me. I always come prepared," Jane said, tapping her duffle bag.
"I'm not worried about you," Eva muttered.
"Girls, let's focus," Peter reminded them.
"I'm very focused. She's the one suggesting we illegally cross the border," Eva said.
"This is an emergency. Unless you can fix your teleportation issue, I suggest you shut up," Jane shot back.
"Okay, let's go," Peter said quickly, standing up before the argument could escalate.
Jane and Eva glared at each other as they slowly got up. Peter waved his hand between them.
"Stop that," he said.
Eva scoffed and walked out. Jane followed, looking like she had more to say. Peter shook his head with a small smile before trailing after them.
They found a secluded alley, far from prying eyes, before Peter and Eva merged. As their forms combined, Jane rummaged through her duffle bag, pulling out various pieces of equipment she had prepared for the journey.
"Finally, she shut up," Jane muttered under her breath as she sorted through her gear.
"You know she can hear you, right?" Peter said, giving her a sideways glance.
"I know," Jane replied without hesitation. "I want her to hear everything."
She pulled on a specially designed headgear she had built herself, fastening the straps securely. Peter sighed. He never quite understood why Jane and Eva always seemed to be at each other's throats. Eva was usually polite—or at least indifferent—toward everyone else. But when it came to Jane, the two could barely have a conversation without snide remarks or glares.
"You'll need to keep the wind steady to protect me during the flight," Jane reminded him as she adjusted the final straps of her gear.
"Got it," Peter said with a nod.
Satisfied, Jane took a deep breath before wrapping her arms around Peter's neck. He effortlessly lifted her into a princess carry, his arms firm and steady around her. For a brief moment, Jane was grateful that her headgear hid the warmth creeping onto her face.
Peter focused, gathering the wind beneath them. The air swirled, lifting them smoothly off the ground. With a powerful gust, he propelled them forward, soaring into the sky.
----------------------------------------
Max panted heavily, his grip tightening around the shaft of his spear as he sliced through another wraith. His silvery, almost metallic skin gleamed under the dim lights of the ruined mansion, his silver mask concealing his identity.
"Max, you have to stop. This is a lost cause," Lydia’s voice echoed in his head, calm yet firm.
"I can do this," Max muttered, his voice strained but resolute.
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The mansion, once a grand symbol of power, now stood as the last refuge for the remaining members of the government. They had long abandoned their offices and homes, seeking shelter within these walls. But even here, safety was an illusion.
Max pressed forward, his boots barely making a sound against the marble floor. The air was thick with the scent of blood and decay. He steadied his breathing as the distant screeches of wraiths filled the corridor ahead. Tightening his grip, he twirled his spear once before stepping around the corner.
The wraiths spotted him instantly. With shrill cries, they lunged.
Max moved before they could even react. In a blur of silver, he vanished—only to reappear at the far end of the hallway. The wraiths froze mid-attack, their twisted forms suddenly motionless. A moment later, dark slashes appeared across their bodies before they collapsed into lifeless heaps.
Max landed in a crouch, panting harder than before. He could feel the strain settling into his muscles, his energy depleting. He had been fighting non-stop, and even with Lydia's support, his body had limits.
"Where is the diabolist who was supposed to defend this place?" he thought. The answer was obvious. Either they had fled—or they had been killed. Max knew which was more likely.
A slow, deliberate clapping broke the silence.
Max’s gaze snapped up as a woman materialized from the shadows. Her short brown hair framed sharp black eyes that gleamed with amusement.
“It’s amazing how long you’ve lasted, Mask,” the woman said with a cruel smirk.
Max didn’t reply. His silver eyes locked onto her, his grip tightening around his spear as he braced for a fight.
“Do we really have to do this?” she continued, tilting her head. “You could just join us—”
She didn’t even get to finish. Max’s spear shot toward her like a bolt of lightning, forcing her to sink into the shadows to dodge. When she reappeared, her eyes blazed with fury—only to widen in shock as she felt a blade pierce her from behind.
“Tch, I missed,” Max muttered, gripping the sword buried in her back. He yanked at it, but before he could pull it free, the woman melted into the shadows again, reappearing farther away.
“You bastard!” she snarled, ripping the sword from her body.
With a flick of her wrist, she conjured jagged blades made of pure shadow and hurled them at him. Max vanished just as they reached him, leaving them to slice through empty air.
The next thing she knew, a powerful kick smashed into her face, sending her flying backward into the wall with a bone-rattling crash.
Max prepared to follow up, but suddenly, he felt something grab him—many hands, clawing and biting at his flesh. Yet, when he looked around, there was nothing there.
“They’re wraiths!” Lydia’s voice rang in his head.
Max gritted his teeth. “I can’t see them.”
“She’s concealing them with illusions. Focus, Max!” Lydia urged.
Summoning a new sword from the concrete beneath him, Max swung blindly at the unseen attackers, feeling the satisfying resistance of his blade meeting flesh.
The woman’s laughter echoed through the ruined hall as she rose from the debris, dust and shadow clinging to her like a second skin.
Max gritted his teeth as more wraiths pounced on him, their claws digging into his flesh, their fangs sinking deep. The suffocating weight of their bodies threatened to drag him down. Then, the illusion dropped, and Max’s stomach twisted—he was completely surrounded. Dozens of wraiths clung to him, their hollow eyes gleaming with hunger. Even worse, several had slipped past him, rushing toward the ministers hiding deeper inside the mansion.
“Fuck!” Max growled, slashing furiously with his sword. Each strike cut through the wraiths with precision, but for every one he felled, more took its place. They were endless. At this rate, he would be devoured. He knew it. Lydia knew it. And the enemy knew it too.
“Max, give me control. I’ll get us out of this,” Lydia’s voice urged in his mind.
Max tensed, ready to relinquish control—
Then, he caught sight of something through the shattered window.
A rain of white fire cascaded from the sky, illuminating the battlefield outside. The flames swallowed the darkness, burning wraiths to ash on impact. Max’s lips curled into a smirk.
“About damn time,” he muttered.
Renewed with confidence, Max moved without restraint. He let loose every ounce of his strength, carving through the horde with relentless precision. The wraiths shrieked as they fell one by one, their numbers dwindling under his blade.
Then, without hesitation, he charged straight at the woman.
----------------------------------------
Jane clung tightly to Peter’s neck as he unleashed white flames, scorching the wraiths swarming the ground below. When they had arrived, they were stunned by the sheer number of wraiths infesting the area. Even with Peter’s overwhelming firepower, it took time to clear the way.
Once the outside was secure, Peter descended, landing smoothly. Jane hopped off his back, immediately pulling out her I.K. gun—Instant Kill Gun. She rolled her shoulders, stretching lightly.
“You handle the wraiths inside. I’ll find the diabolist responsible for releasing them,” Jane said matter-of-factly.
Peter’s response was immediate. “What? No.”
Jane arched a brow. “What, do you expect me to take care of all the wraiths inside instead?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?” she pressed.
Peter opened his mouth as if to argue but shut it again, exhaling in frustration. “Never mind.”
He should’ve known better. Jane always brushed off his concerns.
“I’ll be careful,” she assured him.
“Yeah, sure,” Peter muttered, clearly unconvinced. Then, without another word, he shot into the mansion, fire trailing behind him as he burned through every wraith in his path.
As Peter moved through the hallways, clearing out wraiths one by one, he turned a corner and froze at the sight before him—a woman carrying a man in a princess carry.
“Lydia?” he said, surprised.
Lydia turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “You’re late.”
Peter’s gaze dropped to the man in her arms, and his eyes widened. “Max?”
“He used up all his energy,” Lydia said, glancing down at Max before giving a rare, small smile. “He’ll be fine.”
Peter let out a breath of relief. “That’s good.”
Max had been one of their first allies when they started out as an official diabolist group. Back then, they were all rookies, helping each other survive the dangers of their world.
“You might want to hurry,” Lydia added. “Some wraiths made it past us.”
Peter nodded and reached out, placing a hand on Max’s forehead. Though there were no visible wounds, he channeled his energy into him, restoring his strength. Max’s breathing eased, his body relaxing in Lydia’s arms.
Lydia met Peter’s eyes. “Thank you.”
Peter gave a brief nod before rushing ahead.
As he sprinted down the corridor, wraiths lunged at him from all sides, but he burned through them effortlessly. Eventually, he reached a large door—only to find dozens of wraiths pounding and crashing against it, desperate to break through.
Peter figured there were people hiding inside. After burning away the wraiths, he stepped up to the door and knocked.
"Hello? It’s the Hoods," he called out.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, after some shuffling and hesitant whispers, the door finally creaked open.
Stepping inside, Peter immediately noticed how the occupants had used whatever they could find—chairs, tables, even a broken bookshelf—to barricade the entrance. Their wide-eyed expressions told him everything. To them, he was their saving grace.
“I’m here for the job you posted,” Peter said, his tone firm but calm. “I’ll be heading back out to assist in taking down the invaders. Once I leave, make sure you barricade the door again.”
With that, he turned on his heel and stepped back outside.
For a moment, the room was completely still. Then, as if a weight had lifted, murmurs of relief broke out.
“They actually came,” one of them whispered in disbelief.
The hushed excitement quickly spread, filling the room with chatter.
“Wait—didn’t he tell us to barricade the door again?” someone suddenly pointed out.
Realization struck them all at once. They whipped their heads toward the entrance—still wide open.
Panic set in.
“Block the door! Hurry!”
In a flurry of movement, they scrambled to rebuild their barricade, hoping they weren’t already too late.