Detective Dante Ricci walked down the cobblestone street, muttering curses under his breath.

"What an idiot of a sergeant," Dante grumbled, "giving me this cursed job. Damn Mundi."

Dante was a middle-aged man with a strong build. His broad shoulders, developed biceps, and large forearms were more suited to a construction worker than a detective. He wore a worn leather coat over his wide back. Under the coat, he wore only a black shirt full of greasy stains.

"They've settled in the city as if it were theirs," Dante continued his monologue, "and yes, everything was fine while they behaved like nice little puppies." He stopped in front of a building. Two cops stood at the entrance and let him through when they recognized him. Dante nodded to them as he passed.

"And what now? The puppies have become coyotes," Dante addressed the ceiling where it was written in blood: "WHERE IS YOUR GODDESS NOW???"

"Ah… good morning, Detective…," said a tired-looking young policeman peeking down from the top of the stairs to see who had entered.

"What the hell happened here?" Dante spread his arms wide.

"It looks like a conflict between two Mundi, sir," replied the policeman.

"Why do you think that?" asked Dante. He knew the answer.

"Because only a Mund can defeat a Mund, sir, everyone knows that," answered the policeman innocently.

Dante turned his back on him and gritted his teeth. He was angry because he knew the kid was right. An ordinary Mund civilian was worth as much as 30 soldiers.

"Damn Mundi," Dante repeated. He finally noticed the bodies neatly wrapped in linen sacks, typical of the Roman police at the time, in the corner of the room.

"Who are the victims?" Dante asked.

"Frejo, his wife, and their two children," replied the policeman. Didn't this guy really read the report before coming here?

"Injuries?"

"See for yourself… I saw it once, I won't have an appetite for weeks."

Dante approached the pile of sacks. He opened the first one. The body of an adult man lay inside, headless. His arms were full of scars from struggling while tied with rope. His fingertips were almost burned.

"Oh, that's Frejo," said the cop who was watching Dante, leaning on the staircase railing. He pointed to the center of a red stain on the floor. The stain was almost two meters in diameter.

"I've been cleaning his brain off the boards until now. Trauma from a blunt weapon, while the poor guy was lying face down on the floor."

"No," said Dante. He looked around and saw stains on the walls. He stood above the spot where the cop pointed. He swung an imaginary weapon toward the floor. The cop chuckled. Dante ignored him, now he was working.

"Bring me a box," Dante said.

"Huh?" asked the confused cop.

"A box. A stool. A tripod. Anything, just so I can stand on something," Dante said. The cop ran off somewhere. Dante approached the entrance door. From the wall next to the door to the fireplace, there was a trail of burning on the floorboards. Someone had dragged something on fire.

The cop came back with a tripod in his hands.

"Thank you, kid," Dante said, "what's your name?"

The young cop paused for a second: "Faraday, sir."

"Tell me, Faraday, who is the tallest person you've ever seen?"

Faraday paused again, puzzled by the question. It took him a while to remember: "That must be Uncle Mimo, he's almost 190cm! Everyone calls him a giant!"

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"Mhm…" Dante muttered. He placed the tripod on the floor, climbed on it, and tried to swing the imaginary weapon again.

Dante made a mental note and got off the tripod. He approached the sacks with the bodies again and pulled out the second one. This sack was three times smaller than the others. Dante raised an eyebrow and cautiously opened it. A cube, 35x35cm, of roasted meat was inside.

"We believe that was… Frejo's wife," said Faraday.

Dante stared grimly at the pile of roasted meat. "Where did you find this?"

"I pulled that whole monstrosity out of the fireplace."

Dante nodded: "Arrange a meeting with a Mund for me."

"Which one?" asked Faraday.

"Any one, for God's sake! They're all the same! And they all know everything! Damn Mundi…" Dante was getting chills from all of this.

He opened the third sack. The face of a boy peeked out into the fresh air. Dante shuddered. The boy couldn't have been more than 15. The entire left side of his face was burnt. The fire had taken his eye on that side as well.

The other side of his face had a bruise in the shape of a hand. "The monster pressed him against something hot," Dante concluded.

"Probably," said Faraday, "I found him face down in the fireplace."

Dante opened the last sack. Inside was the body of Frejo's older son. He didn't have such obvious injuries besides the scars on his wrists from trying to free himself from the rope.

"What happened to him?" asked Dante.

Faraday wordlessly approached the lifeless young man and with a quick motion of his hands, opened his shirt, revealing a black mark on his chest where he had been struck by lightning.

"A lightning strike, sir, no doubt about it. His own father killed him… Terrible. It must be that whole story about an honorable death, sir. I've heard them talk about it. I've also heard they eat children, sir. Really awful, sir. Who do they let into the city these days…"

"Shut up," Dante snapped. Faraday fell silent and crossed his arms, offended.

Dante took one last look at the crime scene. He looked at Faraday. "I have a good idea about the person who did this," Dante said mysteriously.

"Oh…?" Faraday gasped.

"No, like, I don't know who it is exactly… I mean i know what kind of person is is," Dante clarified.

"Ahaaaa," said the young cop, distrustfully.

Dante left the house, leaving Faraday to continue with the detailed search of everything.

Dante had heard the stories. He had received warnings. This murder was immediately classified under the "Rusuf" case. The cops whispered that the case was cursed. Whoever worked on it ended up dead within a few weeks. No one was safe, not even the chief of police. And now he was assigned to oversee the case.

"Poor Berti," Dante muttered to himself as he walked back to the station, "the old man didn't deserve to end like that."

The station greeted him empty. The evening patrol had already started. Dante sat on a chair not far from the entrance. He pulled a flask from his coat pocket and took a swig. He fell asleep after a few minutes…

"Sir? Sir?" a squeaky voice echoed from the depths of his sleep.

"Sir? You said to schedule a meeting?"

Dante opened one eye. Bent over him stood Faraday, red-faced and with a scuffed face. "When did you schedule it for?"

"For now! The Mund is already here, sir!"

Only then did Dante notice the black figure behind Faraday. He gave Faraday a sharp look, who had a childish smile on his face the whole time. Dante couldn't be mad at him.

"Good… good afternoon, madam," yawned Dante, extending his hand to the Mund woman. She was incredibly beautiful, with long, straight black hair. Her face was adorned with a Roman nose, very uncharacteristic for a Mund, and full, almost purple lips. Her long neck was held by broad shoulders, her body tapering at the waist and widening again at the hips, giving her a very pleasing appearance. Long, beautiful legs peeked out from beneath a knee-length, expensive-looking dress. 'Snob,' was the first thing that came to Dante's mind.

Dante already knew the story. When the Catalyst started working at full capacity, the Mundi flocked all over Europe. With their magic and other desirable skills, it didn't take long for them to get rich. Dante critically assessed the woman before him. She was taller than him, which irked him.

"Serafina, at your service," the lady accepted his hand and bowed slightly. She spoke Italian with a noticeable accent.

"I can't believe it, a Mund who actually took the time to learn the language…"

Faraday gave him a strange look. Dante couldn't believe he had to explain this too: "Mundi can speak their own language, and when they infuse magic into it, we all hear it as our mother tongue. Italian isn't my mother tongue, plus Madam Serafina speaks with an accent," Faraday blinked three times in confusion.

'Like talking to a child,' Dante fumed internally.

"Thank you for taking the time for me, madam," Dante said to Serafina. He didn't know who she was yet, he would pretend to be nice, at least in front of the kid.

"Civic duty, officer!" said Serafina.

"Please, just Dante," said the detective with a sour smile.

Faraday turned away from the duo: "I'll go now, sir, the evening patrol has already started a while ago!" Faraday left them.

Dante shuddered: "Just sit down somewhere, for God's sake," Dante said, throwing himself into the nearest chair.

Serafina looked at him with disgust.

"Wha'?" Dante asked, raising both hands in the air.

"You stink, you smell of cigarettes, coffee, and sweat. You're unshaven and dirty. Who knows when you last bathed. Your boots are torn, your shirt is stained. Your hair is disheveled and greasy."

"Are you done?" asked Dante.

"And you have dirt under your nails."

"Go to hell," said Dante. This was going to be a long meeting.

'Damn Mundi', he thought.