7.6.3502, 10:00, Votal, Mireta merchant company's headquarters

Seated at a sturdy table, Blur waited for the other head executives to arrive for the meeting and absentmindedly inspected her surroundings. She was currently in the head executives’ meeting room. The walls were covered with bookshelves, making the room appear more like a study than a meeting room, but that was intentional. Having information readily available was key to organizing, planning, and scheming.

Sensing a familiar presence enter the room, she retracted her gaze from the mountains of knowledge and curled the corners of her mouth into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Has someone recovered from her hangover?”

As Dupe, clad in her usual black silken robes, stepped out of the shadows, a monotone voice rang out from under the peculiar mask.

“More or less.”

With these few words, she sat down next to Blur as minutes elapsed with nothing but silence. Under the shine of bright light bulbs, the pair waited for the furred Sliver to arrive.

Although the Arcane Operatives had four head executives, it was rare that all of them were present at a meeting. Currently, only Sliver and Blur were stationed in Votal.

The other two had matters of their own to attend to. Smoothtalker was still managing everything in Stean. The last one, Veil, was handling a delicate long-term mission somewhere in Nyxara.

Matters relating to financial management, member allocation, and the like were handled by the head executives. But since it was impractical to require all four of them to decide on things, only two needed to be present to handle things.

Today's meeting was, like always, attended by Dupe, the puppeteer. Despite not being a regular member, she still participated. Considering her importance, this was only to be expected. Due to her ability, the erratic woman was simply indispensable.

While they both were waiting, Dupe let out a muted snicker. After sobering up, she had begun communicating with her puppets’ neural network and her processing of the puppets’ memories had just reached the recent bar incident.

“You better watch your back in the coming days. That furball will try to get his revenge one way or another.”

“I'm looking forward to him attempting it.”

Just as these words left the pale scientist’s mouth, a black silhouette outlined itself on a chair opposite her. Sliver had arrived.

“Is that so?”

His baritone voice hid an icy undertone, and a chilly aura permeated the room. His vermillion eyes were fixed upon the cause of his humiliation, looking daggers at her.

Feigning shock, Blur covered her mouth. The faked reaction was scarily realistic and would have fooled most, but to those who knew her, the spark of humor in her eyes was blatant. This was besides the fact that, unless it was for quips and jests, she never had such reactions in the first place.

Unimpressed by the reaction, Sliver didn’t linger on the subject and instead faced the masked Dupe.

“Any new information on the target?”

Going off this question, the two of them began to exchange information, Blur listening quietly. After they had finished, the three of them discussed the next day’s mission plans. Lastly, other topics like financial management were discussed between them.

Somewhere along the line, when the conversation shifted to more mundane topics, her thoughts began to wander, and she went through everything she knew about the mission.

The target Sliver had mentioned earlier was the failed experiment of the Corrupted that had been captured by Avalon. Ever since she had confirmed her participation in the mission, Sliver and Dupe had refined the mission plan by gathering more information about the prison’s premises and the captive.

During their preparations, they discovered a hole in the prison’s defenses, which led to the current change of plans.

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Instead of waiting for the day of the execution, which would have been in eleven days, they were going to break into the prison and kidnap the captive. In fact, the mission Sliver mentioned at the bar a few hours prior had been this exact one, and it would all go down tomorrow.

Monday 8.6.3502 at 2:00 in the dead of night Avalon would lose their captive.

Should the trio succeed in extracting the captive alive, gleaning valuable information was all but guaranteed. While all new information was of value, anything having to do with the Corrupted’s power was simply another league.

There weren’t many criminal organizations that lasted for more than a few years, and the Corrupted were one of those special few.

Considering what they were doing, being able to exist under the Zenitan’s rule was a feat to be marveled at in itself. One couldn’t survive the royals’ wrath without strength. But they still paled compared to the Arcane Operatives, who weren’t even on the officials' radar. Neither the royals nor the police knew of them, apart from some speculations. However, even those sold short the sheer scale of the organization.

This undertaking filled Blur with excitement. After all this time there was a prime chance to answer age-old questions of hers. Of course it all depended on everything going smoothly.

From her past experiences dealing with the Corrupted, she knew that the prison guards would be the more minor issue. Even if it was only a failed experiment, nothing related to the Corrupted was ever simple, let alone safe.

Her introspective thoughts were interrupted by an unnervingly familiar voice. It resonated through her mind only for her to hear, eerily similar to her own voice.

Eradicate all that is vile. Cleanse the world.

Blur's face contorted for a brief moment, a dangerous spark of fanaticism igniting in the depths of her grey irises. In the recesses of her mind, two consciousnesses battled against each other. One surging in from a desolate, nearly forgotten corner and the other pressing it down with indomitable might. The intruder was promptly expelled, banished to where it came from.

This mental battle took only a few seconds, but when the pale scientist could ground herself again, her two companions had disappeared and the table in front of her lay in splintered pieces. The sturdy wood had been utterly obliterated, looking like it had been hit with a battering ram.

Upon seeing this scene, Blur breathed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. She would need to satisfy the fanatic voice today; going on an important mission in this state would be suicidal.

Simultaneously to her visibly regaining control, Dupe and Sliver reappeared, the former from the shadows and the latter seemingly out of nowhere.

Stepping into the light and dusting a few pieces of the destroyed table from her robes, the puppeteer addressed Blur with her usual lack of emotion.

“So which gang is going to disappear this time? Judge of the vile, Fleshweaver.”

A crooked smirk appeared on Blur’s face at the mention of her nickname, her voice tinged with eccentric glee as she spoke.

“Any suggestions?”

Mimicking the eccentricism, Dupe answered ardently and full of dark vigor.

“I have many.”

An hour later.

Dense black smoke poured upwards, scorching flames ate away at wooden support beams, and a loud bell sounded from afar.

In front of the burning three-story building, a lone, blood-covered figure stood. It was a tall, muscular man with rugged features and a thick scar running diagonally over his face. Brown hair shimmered in an amber glow amidst the shine of the blazing conflagration.

As he stared into the fire, neon green flames licked at his tear glands, and a fanatical expression marked his toned complexion.

Then, without the slightest hint of hesitation, he turned around and stepped into a narrow alley.

The moment the hulking man left the sunlight and set foot in the desolate alley, his body morphed and squirmed.

Muscles shrank, facial features softened, toned skin whitened, and short brown hair grew and darkened. Even the fanatical spark disappeared. All this took mere seconds.

It wasn't long before a seasoned gangster had transformed into a pale young lady. If there had been any unsuspecting onlookers to witness this transformation, they would have been left deeply disturbed, the process radiated harrowing bizarreness.

But the sole observer of this scene only showed fanatical glee in her emerald eyes. Clad in black silken robes that reminded of a priest's garments, one of Dupe's puppets rapidly approached the returnee.

Falling down to one knee and bowing her head in the wake of Blur, she showed utmost reverence.

Although Blur felt slightly irritated by this, she had bigger issues right now. The bloodied clothes were tailored to fit a bulky man and thus were rather uncomfortable now that she had changed her physique back.

What a mess.

As the bell's chiming grew louder, she looked down at the still kneeling puppet.

“Quit the acting and just give me my cloak. The firefighters will be here any minute now.”

With a sullen look on her face the puppet handed her the grey cloak but not without expressing her discontent.

“Ever righteous Fleshweaver, I assure you that I harbor nothing but the purest of devotion towards our cause. For our great cause I'm even willing to sacrifice myself. May all vileness be vanquished.”

A faint cracking resounded from the puppet's mouth. Then she collapsed into her own shadow and disappeared into nothingness. Only a punctured poison capsule remained, laying where just a moment ago a young woman had stood.

Unamused by this display of fanaticism, be it acted, Blur donned her cloak and disappeared into the vast shadows that covered most of the alley.

While she moved through the lightless expanse, the firefighters finally reached the scene behind her, albeit too late. Even though the fire hadn't spread to adjacent structures, it had still reached vital support beams and throughout history, wood seldom beat fire.

With a deafening crash the building collapsed, dust and debris flying everywhere.