To stealth or not to stealth, that is the question. It's not like I was being sneaky running around earlier... I might as well not waste time.

The guy I interrogated in that meeting room gave me directions and told me that all the CoS offices were on the third floor. I take the stairs since they are available and completely ignore the employee taking a smoke break in the stairwell.

I walk past a few rooms until I get to the offices. Not Jerimiah. Not Jerimiah. Ah, Jerimiah Bennet. Let's see if he's in.

I know he's supposedly MIA, but you never know.

I crush the doorknob with my hand and push the door off its hinges. The interior of the office is cold and dark. I look around and gravitate towards the desk.

I sit down on the office chair and look around. On the table is a photograph of a bald man with a woman. They seem happy. I flick the glass holding the picture to the frame and place one end of the photo in my mouth. I use my only hand to rip it in half, leaving me with a picture of the man I've been looking for.

The woman, whether it be a wife, girlfriend, sister, or whatever, didn't do anything to me. To my knowledge, Jerimiah didn't harm or affect my family in any direct way beyond removing me from their lives for two months.

I leave the half photo with the woman on the table.

It doesn't seem like anyone's been here for over two months, and I have no evidence that this man has my stuff. Maybe he sold them, threw them away... or even took them with him. I trash his office looking for clues, but I get nothing.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door frame. Standing where the door used to be is the CoS woman who talks to me for no apparent reason.

"Ellis Vincere."

"..."

"Nice to see you again."

I point to the nameplate on the desk reading [Jerimiah Bennet] and say, "Where is he?"

"So I guess the rumors of Ellis Vincere running around causing mayhem and casualties were correct. The FIB is trying its best to contain the outbreak of information, but it seems that someone tipped the news with insider POV shots... It paints the FIB in a bad light, not that I care as much as I should."

"Why didn't you answer my question?"

"Jerimiah ran to a fracture and cut contact. Whether that last tidbit was intentional, who knows. He isn't here. I don't know what fracture he went into."

I kick over a potted plant and smear the soil around, unintentionally finding a key within all that dirt.

"Jerimiah doesn't trust banks, especially after the credit shift a few months back. That key and a code should open the safe he has hidden in his office."

"...Thanks for telling me? What are you doing?"

"Should I not tell you things? When I first heard about you disappearing, I thought, 'fuck it.' Then, when I heard you came back, I thought the same thing. I have nothing to do with what happened to you and want nothing to do with any fallout."

I narrow my eyes. "Tell me more."

"I later found out that all Captains of Subsidiaries got this letter, but someone higher than me - a superior - sent me a simple order. It wasn't even an order but a statement. That you cannot continue."

"Do you have this letter?"

"No. I destroyed it immediately. All I know for sure is that it didn't mention murder or abduction. It just wanted you out. If Jerimiah didn't jump the gun, a hefty retirement fund would have been strongly offered."

"Are you trying to shift the entire blame to one man?"

"He told me he wasn't going to kill you. I guess he was telling the truth. You can blame me for not telling you something might happen, but we aren't friends, and we are barely colleagues. Blame Jerimiah. Blame the person who sent the letter. Blame me. Do you want the code?"

"How do you know his safe combination?"

"Unfortunately, Jerimiah and I are long-time work colleagues. We drank together, we raided fractures together before we both were promoted. We trust each other. We'd jump on a grenade for each other, but not a bullet."

"What does that mean? Not a bullet."

"Bullets are more personal than a grenade. It could be a stray or an accident, but ignore that for this anecdote. We believe that personal matters should stay personal. Don't worry about it too much. Since Jerimiah royally fucked up in more ways than one, I'm going to minimize the damage and try to keep it a personal grudge. Don't blow up a government building because of one man and a superior with a pen."

She then tells me the code and points out the safe.

"I'm assuming you aren't simply robbing a captain of subsidiaries. I'll also assume you'd break the safe if you found it anyway, so I'm technically minimizing damages. My work phone number is public, but please don't call."

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

I still don't know her name, so I watch to see what office she walks into. The other four CoS are out in fractures, but not her... Rollins. I'll remember that name until it becomes irrelevant.

And she was right. If I discovered the safe behind a false wall panel, Prometheus or I would've gotten it open. If this code doesn't work, nothing she said should be trusted.

I insert and turn the key, revealing the numpad. I enter 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-8-9, and the safe opens. Inside are stacks of gold bars, a trash bag, and a six-pack of beer.

I grab one of the bars and bite a chunk out of it... Yup, it's real gold. It squeaks against my teeth. I spit the chewed piece of metal on the ground and summon Prometheus.

We didn't spend much time after I summoned him to melt that door down for me, so he is still clingy and wants to be held. I knock all the gold out of the safe and let Prometheus eat it.

I open the trash bag, and a pungent odor wafts out. Rotting blood. I dump the items inside a bit away from where Prometheus was and breathe a sigh of relief.

It's my stuff. All of it. My items are all coated in a thin layer of my own blood. I'm guessing from my prosthetic arm because Rain put an intact circulatory system inside for some reason.

I can't put my prosthetic on since I removed the base for it during my time in the fracture... and I prefer to work on regenerating an arm of flesh and blood rather than rely on metal.

I remove the rings, wearing them on my hand before tossing the arm to Prometheus. Waste not want not or something.

The office has a personal washroom. I assume all CoS have this perk, so I wash my items in the sink until they reach the bare minimum to be considered 'hygienic.'

...my Gi is a little tighter. Did I gain weight? I still have roughly the same percentage of body fat at a cursory glance, so I think it's all right. Running around eating nothing but dragon meat for two months is the cause.

Realistically, I should have lost weight... I guess I did since I'm missing an arm...

Over half my items boosted my stats, so I regained some lost strength. The main thing that increased my power was my first relic.

[Ring of Thorns]

It has a few skills and a damage reflection I dearly missed, and that sentiment seemed to be shared. The thorny roots that previously dug into my prosthetic's metal to feed off my blood were dormant until I put the ring on.

Like a drowning alcoholic dying of dehydration, it tries to dig into my flesh like it is a lifeboat filled with booze.

I use my embodied death energy to kill the flesh around my finger down to the bone. My finger regenerates around the roots as it digs into the flesh with difficulty.

I put the gun and the clothes given to me by the elves in my magic bags and look at the walkie-talkie. The guy still hasn't contacted me. Strange.

I tried to contact the Commander of FIB security, who should be on the other end of the walkie-talkie. But there is only static on the other side.

The device doesn't seem to be broken or damaged, even with my forceful movements. I keep messing with it until someone answers.

"Hello?"

It's someone new.

"Where is Commander... W." I almost didn't recall the name he gave me, which I now realize was probably not his real name.

"He's indisposed at the moment. Sorry for not contacting you sooner. The Director will talk to you in person if you wish."

"..." I don't say anything. The way this individual talks sent a shiver down my spine. A reaction that doesn't seem normal. They didn't say anything weird or have any tonal indications.

I crush the walkie-talkie and drop it.

[Resistance: Mental 260 > 265]

Were they laying a spell on me over the phone? What the fuck? I decide to leave. If Jerimiah is hiding in a fracture and the higher-ups don't want me in the FIB, there isn't much I can do.

Not much I can do alone. I send Prometheus back into the mansion and change my clothes to the primal wear I left the fracture in. I put my stuff in my bags and toggle their stealth security feature.

I leave the hazard branch. Outside the compound are a shit ton of reporters clamoring, bothering the gate guards.

Their noise and ferocity exponentially increase when they spot me.

Free Chains seemingly comes out of nowhere and tries to talk down the reporters while giving me a look. Let's see. He wants me to 'act natural' and 'do something.' He's putting on a show by seemingly trying to give me breathing room, but he's actually fanning the flames... I think.

I'd prefer to see my beasts and family before talking to the press, but since FreeChains is here, the rest of my court should be in cahoots with this plan.

[Master.]

'Duchess?'

[Thisss one isn't close enough to read your thoughts. Please cooperate and give answers appropriately to these hungry humans.]

'Okay.'

[Thisss one will repeat that this is a one-way message, so if you mentally respond in the future, it will be a silly action. Thisss one is happy you returned relatively safely.]

I lean forward and indicate that I'm about to speak into the dozens of microphones being pushed into my face. I also use [Royal Decree] subtly, and everyone quiets down.

"My name is Ellis Vincere. I survived."

The reporters immediately erupt as I get swept away by a torrent of questions.

~~~

[Ellis Vincere "I Survived" A Spine Chilling Recount.]

[Island of Dragons and Dangers]

[Where is Ellis Vincere Now?]

[How did Ellis Vincere Live? Read How Here!]

[Is an All Dragon Diet Feasible?]

There were many articles published about me. Hundreds. Maybe more. Probably more.

I told my story, and Duchess mentally helped me give answers that felt less 'robotic.' I answered questions for hours outside the hazard branch's entrance before being mentally told to make an excuse and leave.

My beasts weren't concerned about me since they would know if I died. Our bond would be broken, and their soul would be damaged. My soul would also be damaged if any of them died but on a lesser scale.

This also isn't the first time I disappeared for months inside a fracture as this happened before but in a desert. They missed me and were happy that I was back. Flash Gordon floated into my pocket, and Rob kept trying to pick me up for some reason. Khan was strangely affectionate - or hungry, and Duchess even made a joke.

[Once is accidental. Twice is bad luck. Three times is intentional.]

I think it's funny.