Pointing at another misguided and ignorant sheep of the herd that lived in this unnecessarily gaudy hotel, Walter explained, "In her grand design, an individual like him," then he turned his finger at Elias, "Like you," then finally at himself, "like me; have no significance. Our lives and their trajectories do not matter."

Then, in a severe voice that didn't leave room for even a shred of doubt, he guided his beloved project, "What matters is the final direction of Truth and False. Good and Evil. Life and Death. Virtue and Sin. What matters is that her design will bring forth the most positives direction of all."

Letting his words hang in the air for a bit, he patted Elias's shoulder before declaring with a proud smile, "And you, my boy, are the living proof of her justice."

Elias, as tall as himself, draped in a sleek white shirt and a form-fitting blue jacket, descended the stairs with a reticence unsuited for a child his age. Seventeen was supposed to be the spring of life, after all.

His chestnut brown hair parted neatly down the middle framed his dark brown almond-shaped eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, giving him a keen, inquisitive look.

The kid listened in with a quiet focus that, at times like these, frustrated Walter. How was he supposed to guide the kid if he gave him no feedback—no reaction? Yes, the boy wasn't a sheep anymore that still needed shepherding, but even the sharpest of knives had to be guided with a steady hand.

He was that hand. He was the hand that created this…reaper. The very hand that would wield this reaper's scythe by proxy as his own and bring this city into Seraphine's grand design.

As an Observer of Sheperd pathway, there was no one better to control this walking god of death. One that was growing stronger by the day.

"Who must I punish today," asked Elias, his eyes shining with purpose.

Good. Walter nodded to himself. This is how you should be. Those eyes told him all he wanted to know. The boy had come a long way in such a short time.

From a failed experiment of Seraphine's angels to forming such a terrifying and disruptive viewpoint. From a boy who shook and trembled for days after punishing a vile criminal to craving the next convict first thing in the morning?

He's come a long way. Walter smirked. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out the photograph of the next target and passed it onto Elias.

It depicted a man sitting on a lavish chair with a cane in his hand. The man had soft features that didn't suit his noble station. However, his work was absolutely vile.

The man was a staunch Atheist who actively obstructed religious preaching, wishing to enforce fines and jail time as punishment for those that indulged in religion. As a Sheperd whose very job and purpose in life was to show people the path to Seraphine's grand design, such a man was his biggest enemy and had to be dealt with swiftly.

After a few seconds, Walter began, "This is Simon Razus, a villain of uncanny proportions. In the mere few weeks after Duskfall, he's set up a trafficking racket that is kidnapping young men and women from outer districts who lost their families to the tragedy with promises of jobs, food, and shelter."

A frown began to surface on Elias's face, but Walter wasn't satisfied with it. Such a heinous crime, and the kid's only slightly perturbed.

Narrowing his eyes, he continued the briefing, "Once in his den of sin, he alters them using shapeshifting visions of disgusting observers to meet the demands of his twisted and perverted clients."

Elias showed little to no reaction.

Walter wanted something. So, he let his revulsion emerge on his face as he played one of his hidden cards, "That's not all. He has exceeded the height of depravity. He has created a disturbing…product. One where he forcefully enlightens the victims, then makes them lose control."

Elias suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Walter smiled internally but added in a grim voice, "And then he sells these mentally broken individuals to the sick fucks in the inner city."

Well, this one was actually true. When he first learned of it, even his blood had run cold. Except, he didn't know who the real perpetrator was.

Well, Mr. Simon will have to take the blame for now.

Walter and Elias stood in silence at the foot of the staircase as the sheeps he'd already herded passed all around them, avoiding the pair unintentionally.

This was his doing. This was the reason he'd been speaking about all these events so freely. No one in this hotel really noticed them.

To them, he and Elias didn't even exist. After that first day, where he'd managed to force Elias to pass judgment, he'd realized that they were going to stay at this hotel for a long time.

So, he had gone out of his way to mentally erase himself and Elias from every tenant's mind. There were a couple of Observers in the mix, but all were first-shade younglings, unable to resist his mental suggestions.

They could have chosen a more…isolated place, but the clocktower outside was important for their plans, and so was the touch of society.

Well. the aromatic Southville coffee they served here was one of the reasons, too.

On top of that, Elias was a quiet kid. He needed to be around society to keep his moral compass calibrated and not get his Insights twisted in the wrong direction. Prolonged isolation would essentially doom his gift into nothingness.

.

.

.

After a bit, Elias turned back towards Walter and replied with a single word, "Evidence."

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Walter felt like gnashing his teeth. Just how many times have they had this exact same conversation? Was his word not enough? Why did the kid feel the need to outright distrust him like this? Hadn't he proved himself enough times?

Every waking second of his since he sneaked Elias out of Citadel had been spent caring for his needs and wants. Then, why was there still a need for evidence?

Hahh, Walter sighed. Regardless, he wasn't one to slack. Like all the other times, he'd setup and gathered all the evidence before even bringing it up to Elias. This was how he guided the knife for now. Surely, the kid would come around one day or another and stop asking for evidence.

With a flourish of his hands, he pulled out an envelope from his inner pockets and handed the whole thing to Elias. The kid—well, he wasn't really young enough to be a kid, but Walter couldn't not see him as one, given all he'd experienced living with him. So, yes, the kid gripped the envelope tightly, his eyes burning with a silent fury as he walked out of the hotel without even bidding Walter farewell.

He shook his head and murmured to himself, "You'll come to appreciate it one day." Walking towards the bar, he rapped on the counter, his eyes shining a murky green.

The butler cleaning the glasses suddenly became aware of Walter's presence and asked with a confused look, "How can I help you?"

Walter suggested, "Make me a Southville coffee and send breakfast for two to room 319."

The butler hemmed and hawed for a couple of seconds before he got to work without any more questions. Walter had this whole place locked down under his mental suggestions, and no one was any wiser.

Soon, the butler brought the piping hot coffee in a porcelain cup and a saucer, which Walter took with him back to their room as he sipped and enjoyed the aromatic brew.

*Oh, well. One step closer to her Grand design," he thought on his way back.

He entered their room, closed the curtains, and placed his cup on the table before opening its drawer and pulling up the false bottom. Inside sat his prized possession—a single page scribbled with the tiny words.

Recently, the Marchionists—the biggest underground merchants he knew of, uncovered an ancient artifact that solved a very important problem—the problem of communication.

Convergence Notes had existed since forever, but their rarity made them a terrible bargain. However, this artifact changed that. Using its unique methods, they found ways to unlink the pages of a convergence note from each other.

This meant that each page of the note could have its own separate owner and wasn't bound to a single observer. This changed the name of the game completely. One could understand the rarity of these notes by how even he, who was handling such an important matter, wasn't provided with one.

Until recently, that is.

Now that each page could work on its own, suddenly, the impossible had become possible, and he didn't need to travel eight districts to communicate with the angels back in the citadel anymore.

Or, well, their proxies. No one but Seraphine herself knew of her angel's traces.

Shaking his head, he sat down by the table. He sipped his coffee with one hand while the other sent a note to his superior's proxy. After all, he had to report when Elias wasn't here. The kid might be quiet, but he was observant, and it would be a rookie mistake on Walter’s end to talk about confidential matters like these in front of the kid.

He wrote, 'Did you know? Gods of life hate apples.'

This was a pre-established passcode between him and the angel's proxy. Hopefully, the poor thing hadn't been sabotaged or disposed of. That would mean he would be without contact with citadel for at least another week.

Fortunately, nothing of the sort happened, and soon came a reply which he wrote down in the tiniest of handwriting to save on the space, 'Greetings, Sheperd Walter. I am requesting an audience with Dusk Angel right now. Please wait a while.'

Walter smiled and took another sip of his coffee. Everything according to the plan.

Who knew? If he really managed to bring Elmhurst down to its knees, his meteoric ascension to fame in the Citadel was all but guaranteed.

Soon, his hands moved once again, "Report, Walter."

Walter suddenly grew nervous as he settled down his coffee cup and sat straighter before writing back in the most formal script, 'Greetings Dusk Angel. The project is progressing well. Another medium-priority target should be eliminated within a few minutes.'

'Passable. How is the child of death faring?'

Always straight to the point.

'Under my guidance, he has grown by leaps and bounds. Recently, he managed to instantly end a Third-Shade Necromancer. As things stand, his viewpoint breaks all norms of progression and can bring the Observer society down to its knees if handled carefully.'

Walter wrote that from the depths of his heart. Given overwhelming incriminating evidence against the target, the kid was one scary bastard. Recently, he'd instantly killed someone two shades above him! There was no struggle. No contest. No back and forth. Just death.

Walter had even gone and collected the perceptual artifact borne out of that Necromancer's corpse. Unfortunately, he had to sell it right away, or the kid might have decided to kill him, too.

Suddenly, his hand moved, 'Don't waste my time with unnecessary embellishments. How long before he ascends to the second shade?'

Walter chewed his words for a second before penning, 'I believe that he's all but understood the essence of his current shade. Regardless, the ascension is bound to be a tough one, given how he's walking down a condensed shade sequence. However, worry not, my seraphic lord. I have already arranged for the proper circumstances and resonance catalysts to boost his chances.'

Walter made sure his hands didn't tremble as he wrote these words. This was the biggest roadblock in his plans, and if the angel got wind of how he'd already attempted to push the kid over the edge a couple of times and failed, he might just get replaced.

Under his guidance, the kid had done everything noted in the observation record. In theory, he should be able to ascend any moment, but progress as an observer was a fickle thing, especially for these rare sequences that could only be followed by those with very specific mindsets—like Elias.

For Elias, though, it was even worse. The observation record he followed only had insights from two predecessors, and just because something worked for them didn't mean it would apply to a newcomer like him, too. After all, even though Elias imprinted the same visions in his thought space as his predecessors, their constructs of isolation were bound to be vastly dissimilar.

So dissimilar that the record became more of a suggestion rather than a doctrine to be followed.

The kid had even come up with his own tenets to better play as a judge, but it just wasn't working out. With past records, his guidance, valuable catalysts these, the kid should have long been ready to advance.

Yet, he wasn't.

Unfortunately, Walter was forbidden from peeking into the kid's head, even if for good reasons. Someone who could shade their perception with a condensed sequence had to be dealing with whispers and demons that Walter didn't even dare imagine.

Such was the terror of condensed shade sequences. These paths ended early for a reason. This sequence was gifted directly to the Dusk Angel by her eminence Seraphine, and even then, it ended at the third shade.

Why did it not go any higher? Well, Walter's guess was that even the Everflux was scared of such a viewpoint, and the providence of the world itself was against it becoming even more potent.

Given that the requirements were satisfied, in the first shade alone, the user could effortlessly annihilate an average third-shade observer. In the second shade, they could bring to heel observers up to the fifth shade. Then, finally, the Third was fabled to be able to grant even Eternas and Angels instant death.

What would a fourth shade of such a sequence entail? Killing gods? Hahh, Walter chuckled, amused by his own conjectures.

Well, there was actually a more canon reason for the lack of a fourth shade.