Ethan slouched in his high-backed chair, his brow furrowed as he pored over yet another murder report. A parchment. Again. Another murder. Concerning. The parchment crinkled beneath his fingers as he turned the page, revealing more grisly details of the latest victim.

He looked up from the report. Eyes settling on Roland and Cedric, who stood at attention nearby, he opened his mouth to say something—anything—but then stopped.

Thinking over the matter some more, he finally asked:

“Why has this murderer not been caught yet?” Ethan was surprised at the frustration and weariness in his voice. Had the recent predicaments finally caught up to him?

Roland stepped forward.

“We’ve done everything we can, my lord,” he said. “But we haven’t been able to catch anyone.”

Ethan’s frown deepened. “Why?” he pressed, seeking answers where there seemed to be none.

It was Cedric who spoke next. “It’s a Classed, my lord,” he said, his voice low. “Whoever is behind these murders. They’re Classed.”

The word prompted a sigh out of Ethan. He’d expected as much. But still. Classed individuals were a force to be reckoned with, their abilities often surpassing those of ordinary people. Obviously. He himself was a Classed. It wasn’t anything surprising that the murderer was a Classed—they’d actually expected it. If the murderer was indeed Classed, it explained the difficulty in apprehending them, but it also raised the stakes considerably. Whoever they were, they were murdering people. Why? What intention could they have? What purpose?

“Hmm, I see,” Ethan murmured, more to himself than to his advisors. What could he do? He wished for nothing more than power at that moment. In this world, most issues could be resolved with power. If only he was stronger. Instead of mulling over that, Ethan focused on the present. Possibilities and potential courses of action. He needed to think. This situation was spiraling out of control. Everything was getting out of hand these days, even, and he knew he needed to do something. But what?

Ethan’s thoughts turned to divination. It was a powerful tool, one that could potentially reveal the identity of the murderer or at least provide crucial clues. However, he quickly dismissed the idea with a frustrated sigh. He had no one in his service with a class related to divination, and as an Initiate [Mage] himself, he lacked the ability to perform such complex magic himself.

Ethan stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room as he pondered his limited options. The soft carpet muffled his footsteps, but it did nothing to quiet the turmoil in his mind.

After several moments of silence, Ethan turned to face Roland and Cedric with a sigh. “We need to try harder. We have to catch this... this monster. Increase patrols, question more witnesses, leave no stone unturned. We cannot allow these murders to continue. I will request aid from Sir Thomas, as well.”

Roland nodded sharply, his hand instinctively moving to rest on the hilt of his sword. “It will be done, my lord. We’ll redouble our efforts and bring this criminal to justice.”

Ethan appreciated the knight’s unwavering loyalty, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that conventional methods wouldn’t be enough. They would’ve already caught the criminal, in that case—but the fact of the matter was that they hadn’t, and that was a problem. They needed something more. Like divination. Divination, however, is not possible—oh, actually, maybe I can talk to Derrick about it? He’s an experienced [Mage]... Perhaps, he can help. It was then that an idea began to form in his mind.

Before that, however.

“There’s something else,” Ethan said, his tone shifting, as he turned to look at Roland. “I received a Quest recently. I’m thinking of leaving today to pursue it.”

The change in subject caught Roland off guard. The knight’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he took a step forward. “My lord, you can’t be serious. With the current situation, it’s far too dangerous for you to leave the safety of the manor.”

Ethan had anticipated this reaction. Roland was more than just a knight; he was Ethan’s personal bodyguard, tasked with ensuring his lord’s safety at all times. The idea of Ethan venturing out alone was anathema to everything Roland stood for. “I understand your concern, Roland,” Ethan said, trying to keep his voice calm and reasonable. “But this Quest... it’s important. And it requires that I go by my lonesome.”

Roland’s brow furrowed, his loyalty warring with his duty to protect. “Please, allow me to accompany you, my lord. I can ensure your safety while you complete this Quest.”

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Ethan shook his head, knowing this would be the hardest part to explain. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. As I said, the Quest requires that I go alone.”

Roland’s hand tightened on his sword hilt. “My lord, with all due respect, that’s madness. You cannot leave the castle unprotected, especially not now. What if the murderer strikes while you’re gone? What if they target you?”

Ethan understood Roland’s fears, but he also knew that he had to take this risk. He stepped closer to the knight, lowering his voice. “Roland, I know this goes against everything you believe in, everything you’ve sworn to do. But I need you to trust me.”

“At least tell me more about this Quest, my lord. What makes it so important that you’d risk your life?”

Ethan felt terrible. Lying like this. But—he sighed—it needed to be done. “I... I can’t explain it fully,” he admitted.

“That isn’t enough to justify such a risk, my lord.” The knight’s eyes darkened. “Please, reconsider. Let me come with you, or at least allow me to send a small contingent of guards to watch over you from a distance.”

Ethan shook his head again, more firmly this time. “No, Roland. The Quest was specific. I must go alone, or not at all. This is not up for discussion, it’s an order.”

Roland opened his mouth to argue further, but Cedric, who had been silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke up. “My lord, if I may,” he said. “While I share Sir Roland’s concerns for your safety, I also understand the importance of Quests. They are not mere errands; they are divine mandates, often tied to the fate of individuals or even entire realms.”

“Exactly. This isn’t a whim, Roland.”

The knight’s shoulders sagged slightly. “But my lord, how can I fulfill my duty if I’m not by your side? How can I protect you if I don’t even know where you are?”

Ethan placed a hand on Roland’s shoulder. “You can protect me by staying here, by continuing the investigation and keeping our people safe. I need you here, Roland. You’re the only one I trust to handle things in my absence.”

Roland’s internal struggle was visible on his face. Ethan felt bad seeing the man’s loyalty to Theodore clashing with his duty to protect. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he let out a long, resigned sigh. “I... I understand, my lord. I do not like it, but I understand.”

“Thank you, Roland. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“When do you plan to leave, my lord?”

“Today,” Ethan replied, his voice firm.

Cedric stepped forward. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements. We’ll need to prepare a cover story for your absence and ensure that only trusted individuals are aware of the truth.”

“Thank you, Cedric. I leave that in your capable hands.”

As his advisors began to discuss the details of his impending departure, Ethan turned to gaze out the window.

Fear and excitement practically swirled under his skin.

***

Jack stood over the body of what had once been a human being. The corpse before him was barely recognizable as having ever been a person. Its skin had taken on a glassy, translucent quality, with crystalline structures protruding from various points. Cracks ran down several parts of the body, and a few parts weren’t even there. The creature was dead, for good, but Jack knew something for certain now.

“So, this is the endgame,” Jack muttered.

He had suspected something like this might be the case, but seeing it with his own eyes was something else entirely. The infected weren’t just dying—they were transforming into something inhuman.

The internal organs had been almost entirely replaced by crystal structures, their functions seemingly taken over by the alien growths. The brain, however, was truly fascinating.

Where there should have been the brain, there was instead a complex lattice of crystals. It was as if the person’s entire consciousness had been overwritten, replaced by something... else. They lose their minds. The crystals don’t just kill them, they... consume them. Body and soul. And turn the infected into this.

He stood up abruptly. In a sudden burst of rage, he slammed his foot into a nearby chair, sending it clattering across the room.

“Fuck!” he shouted.

Jack ran his hands through his hair. This wasn’t just a disease—it was an invasion. An alien life form was systematically taking over human bodies, using them as incubators for its own reproduction. And if his calculations were correct...

“Half the town might turn into these... things.”

The implications were staggering. If this spread beyond the town, beyond the region...

Jack took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Panic wouldn’t solve anything. He needed to think, to plan.

“I need more people,” he muttered, pacing back and forth. “I can’t do this alone.”

He needed assistants, other researchers. He needed guards to protect his work and to... deal with any infected who reached the final stages of transformation.

Jack sat down at his desk, pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment. He began to write furiously, compiling a list of everything he would need. As he wrote, his mind was busy with something else.

The crystals seemed to go through distinct stages of development. First, there was the initial infection, where the crystals were nearly undetectable. Then came the active phase, where they began to multiply and spread throughout the body. The blue crystals he had observed earlier seemed to be some kind of intermediate stage—perhaps an attempt by the body to fight back or adapt to the invasion.

But the final stage... that was the true fucking horror.

The complete transformation of a human being into one of these crystalline aberrations. Jack shuddered, remembering the vacant, inhuman eyes of the transformed corpse. I still haven’t observed a transformation myself, but given how many people are infected, I’ll see it. Eventually. It’s inevitable, really.

He looked back at his notes, focusing on the accounts of survivors. The increased strength, the heightened senses—these weren’t signs of recovery. They were the first indicators of the final transformation. The human body was being optimized, prepared for its new crystalline form.

It was clear that these crystal beings were intelligent, or at least operating under some kind of overarching directive. They weren’t simply mindless parasites—their actions were too coordinated, too purposeful for that.

If the Night Whispers are truly behind this as I suspect... What more do they have in store?