Claude stood in silence- it felt like the world had paused. The bloody writing on the wall twisted into erratic shapes, each stroke violent and manic.

His eyes traced the words, but they offered him no solace. Only an overwhelming sense of dread.

The sharp, metallic scent of blood clung to the air, reminding him that this was more than just a message—it was a warning. And one he understood all too well.

This is connected to the subspace.

No question.

Claude's thoughts spiralled. This new information only sprouted further questions.

It's all but confirmed.

Whatever is happening, has something to do with this unknown entity. This unknown God.

But... what does a god want with these people? he wondered. The missing citizens—Mrs. Margaret, Mr. Francois, Miss Marie—details about them which he had investigated floated to his mind.

One was a gentle woman mourning the death of her beloves, one a soon-to-be grandpa, the other who had a brilliant life set before her.

Claude clenched his fists, anger flaring for a brief moment. The city guard had failed to do anything meaningful. No lockdown. No investigations worth their salt.

And now, seeing this blood-scrawled message, he was certain they had intentionally ignored this house.

The walls were both stained and reeked of blood, something that would have been impossible to overlook for anyone with half a brain.

They must be in on it.

His frustration mounted as he spent a few more minutes scouring the room for any additional clues, but found nothing more than the message itself.

He sighed heavily, feeling a knot of tension build in his shoulders. His final glance at the blood-streaked bedroom was filled with a complicated mix of disgust and determination.

He couldn't linger any longer.

There were too many unknowns and too many questions. And somewhere in the middle of all this chaos, the missing people were still out there—waiting for help that might never come.

And this conspiracy...

'It has to be stopped...' Claude pondered as he made his way to the back of the house. As he reached the fence, the wind caressed his face, carrying with it faint voices.

His instincts kicked in immediately. He crouched low, eyes darting toward the source of the sound. The voices were too far off to make out clearly, but something about them tugged at his gut.

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That voice...

He crept to the side of the house, pressing himself against the wooden fence. Through a narrow gap in the slats, he caught sight of the same gang member he'd seen earlier on his first day in the city.

But standing next to him was someone far more concerning: the city guard he'd spoken with at the inn.

Claude's eyes narrowed, his breath catching in his throat. Why would a city guard be speaking with a gang member? The conversation between the two was low, their voices muffled by the distance, but he managed to catch enough.

"No one's managed to get inside yet," the guard said, his tone clipped.

"Better stay that way," the gang member replied gruffly, crossing his arms.

Claude's mind raced, putting the pieces together. The guard was involved—maybe more than just him.

The city guard and the Grey Falcon Gang, working together. But for what purpose? It couldn't be just random greed or power struggles.

This had to tie back to the disappearances, to Mrs. Margaret, to the bloody writing in that house.

He wanted to confront them, to demand answers right then and there. But he knew that would only put him at risk. He had too little information and no backup.

A confrontation was an unnecessary risk. These two may not pose a risk to him, but, those behind the duo might.

The two men finished their conversation and started walking away, their voices fading as they disappeared around a corner. Claude didn't hesitate.

He vaulted over the fence as he had before, landing quietly on the other side, and started tailing them from a distance.

Claude followed as they turned down a busy street, the market square alive with the noise of merchants and customers. Claude cursed under his breath. The crowded space offered too many places to lose track of them.

And then, just as he feared, they vanished into the throng of people.

"Damn it," he muttered, his hands balling into fists. He scanned the crowd, eyes flicking from face to face, but it was useless. They were gone.

Only the chatter of the crowded marketplace echoed in his ear whilst the dense sea of people flooded his vision.

He stood there for a moment, battling the rising frustration that threatened to cloud his thoughts. He'd lost them, but not everything.

Two new leads had emerged—the Grey Falcon Gang and the city guard. He knew now that this wasn't just some disorganized series of events.

There was a coordinated effort at play, something large enough to involve both criminal elements and the very forces sworn to protect the people.

But what's the connection? he wondered. How deep did this conspiracy go?

Contemplating these discoveries, Claude made his way back to the inn. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the streets, and the city was beginning to settle into the quieter rhythms of the evening.

His mind was still racing as he approached the inn's entrance, trying to make sense of everything he had seen.

As he neared the inn, he felt it again—that peculiar sensation, like a low hum vibrating in his ears.

His body tensed, his instincts flaring. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note from the library, the one that had seemed so innocuous earlier.

It was warm.

Claude's heart skipped a beat. The parchment, which had been nothing more than a scrap of paper, was now spewing out warmth.

He stared at it, bewildered, as the faint hum grew stronger. The note was reacting to something—something inside the inn.

His eyes narrowed, his breath quickening.

Don't tell me…

He shoved the note back into his pocket and glanced toward the inn, the once-familiar building now brimmed with uncertainty.

Was it the inn itself? Or someone inside? He hadn't considered before that the inn might hold more than just temporary shelter for some travellers.

Claude gritted his teeth, as he crossed the threshold into the inn's dimly lit interior. The faint murmur of conversation filled the room, but his mind was elsewhere.

His eyes flicked around trying to find anything out of place, but it all seemed as it should be. It looked like a normal scene in your average run-of-a-mill inn.

The pieces were falling into place, but the puzzle remained incomplete. And whatever lay at the centre of it all… may be closer than he had guessed.