Somewhere in the slums of Zalcien, somewhere between the infamous center where the Horror lied and the border with the rest of the city proper, was a five-story tall building in relatively good condition, on the roof of which one would find an unusual office. Sat in a red leather chair, a tall old elf with long grey hair and a medium trimmed grey beard read some papers covered in strange symbols, and even to those who could read them their placing made no sense. Which was the exact reason why it was the perfect coded message in Runar's opinion, especially when trying to counterfeit the code resulted in fiery detonations.

Speaking of detonations, the old elf heard the heavy steps of metal-clad feet running up the stairs and began to put his work aside. As expected, soon after the hulking figure of a knight in shining armor burst through the door to the open office, and Runar's keen eyes immediately recognized the glowing red orb the size of a human head the large orc was carrying single-handedly.

"Mister Runar, it's-"

"I know who it is. Thank you for coming here so fast, Karadok."

Runar gestured for his minion to put the orb down on his deck while he finished putting away his paperwork. As soon the crystalline surface of the orb hit the wood of the desk, runes that had been hidden so far on both items lit up and secured the spherical object down as well as answered the call. Runar finished adjusting his blue tie on his yellow three-piece suit's collar just in time for the red glow of the orb to disappear and be replaced by a vision of another place, though much of that vision was occupied by the grinning face of an odd old man.

A top hat mimicking a dark grey mushroom cloud sat on top of a blade head with a very wrinkly and angular face, dark eyes full of enthusiastic sparkles and mischief were framed by long thin white eyebrows on top and a classic thin white mustache below that any classic mustache-twirling villain would have looked upon with envy, with a small white goatee completing the look. Though not much of his suit could be seen in the crystal ball, Runar knew without a doubt that it would undeniably be one normally only an illusionist would wear - and not even the respectable kind of illusionist, the masters of illusions and trickery the magical community valued, but instead those foolish pretenders that entertained children. Even now Runar could see a bit of a black and white wand poke into the vision from time to time, the man he was looking at probably idly playing with it as he tended to do.

"Hello, Abrak. It has been some time."

"Runar, buddy! How are you doing?"

"I am faring well. Oh, Karadok, you are dismissed."

"Oh! Karadok, lad, how are you old champ?"

"Uh... Sir?"

"Abrak, the original Karadok died quite a few decades ago. This is merely his... Grandson, was it?"

"Grandnephew actually, sir."

"Yes, that. Again, you're free to go."

"Yes sir! And it was an honor meeting you mister Abrakaboom!"

"Yes, yes. Now go."

The orc in shining armor bowed before running back down the stairs, his armor clanking all the while.

"Ah, good old Karadok. Say, what have you been up to old lad?"

"The same as usual, Abrak. Managing the illegal production and distribution of enchanted goods is a little more complex than running around and causing damage. I heard you paid a visit to the Museum of Explosives?"

"Ah, yes! You should have seen it, Runar. It was glorious! No one will ever forget about it!"

"I must admit I do not share your optimism. It is already the fifth time this year, people are getting used to it."

"Uh, really? Gosh, I got a little distracted. But seriously, you have nothing new going on? You sure?"

"Well, there are some rumors about a strange and unique creature circulating."

"Oooh, tell me more!"

"An entity that dwells in shadows and specializes in stealth. Intelligent too, if the rumors are true. So far I believe it is simply a particularly clever shadow or darkness elemental that found its way here by accident, though it might also be just another Cored. Probably a Chaotic one then. In any case, I already sent a man to retrieve it, though it has been some time since we last got any news."

"And what if it is something neeew?"

"Abrak, you know me. Although I do not have much in the way of actual evidence so far to either prove or disprove my theory, what are the chances that a rare and potentially unknown magical creature would show up in a city like Zalcien? Especially in the slums, and so close to the Black Border too. A rogue elemental would already be impressive enough. No, the chances for it to be anything truly unique are quasi null."

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"Ugh, it's boring then."

"For one such as you, I'm afraid so."

"Grah, everything is boring nowadays. The Blood Angels are nothing without Natrashka, that Biflora guy sucks out all the fun of breaking the law and Emy barely does anything herself. I swear, she could have died and no one would have realized it with all her robots doing the work."

"Come on now, surely you're exaggerating."

"Nah, I'm not! You know what? I may not like what that Marcus kid is doing with Natrashka's old gang, but at least the lad is doing something! And don't get me started on this Wicked Witchcraft nonsense, just a bunch of bootlickers and backstabbing snakes. Berk."

"You are still the cabal's leader, you know? You could just order the current leaders to step back and let some new ones replace them."

"You mean cleaning the old ones' mess just to let some new youngins step in and make their own? Nah! Cabals are stupid anyway. Who's the idiot who thought tons of different magic practitioners could tolerate and work with each other?"

"Historically, most mages, including our respective teachers."

"Bah! Old dotards, too out of touch with the times!"

"You are aware that we now qualify as 'old dotards' too, right?"

"Nah! We'll always be young, Runar! Just look at yourself, you don't look like a century-old prune like they do!"

"I have to thank my elven ancestry for that, but time is still catching up old friend. You should really put some order to the cabal before it's too late for your opinion to matter."

"Bah! As soon as they leave me alone, I'll be the happiest man alive! Say, what did you want to talk about?"

"You're the one who called me, Abrak."

"Did I? Oh well, I just had a great idea for my next show! I must be off, see you soon!"

"Yes, see you-"

Abrakaboom didn't wait for him to finish and shut off the magical connection on his side, leaving only an empty crystal ball behind.

"-soon. Sigh."

Runar dropped his elbows on his desk and began to rub at his forehead with his right hand, his gaze fixed on the magical contraption. It was true that his elven ancestry - though he was only a half-blood - had spared him from the ravages of time, but his old friend... Abrakaboom was only human, despite what some might think. No fae or demonic origins influenced his mind or boosted his powers, no, his abilities were only the result of hard work and dedication, and though they would never falter, his mind on the other hand...

"You're going to blow up the Museum of Explosives again, aren't you?"

He had never cared much for the cabal that had formed in his wake, hoping to benefit from his tremendous magical prowess. Occasionally he would mentor an interesting newcomer or pillage the stores of rare ingredients the old idiots at the top tried to hide, but that was it. With his worsening condition, however... They had gotten away with more and more. Runar wouldn't be surprised to learn that there already was a plot to permanently get rid of Abrakaboom in the works. It would match with his recent... Relocation. What need was there to appoint him as the director of this outpost when all of his work was located in the main headquarters? He hadn't been the least surprised when the first reports of his spies that were still loyal informed him that the decrepit snakes in charge were already fighting over ownership of the enchantment workshops he had watched over for years. The fools would get what they deserved as soon as they tried to undo his claim on them. He didn't like dealing with fae or demons, but even the local ones had grown tired of Wicked Witchcraft's leaders' antics.

For once Runar allowed something other than neutrality, apathy, and mild annoyance to show on his face with a small smile and even smaller chuckle. Oh, if his plans to take over the cabal failed, the idiots in charge would disappear along with him. Whether they would be replaced with new ones like Abraka feared or if a new generation truly dedicated to investigating the forbidden arts would take over he didn't know, but even a man like him could hope.

Runar took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, returning to his impassible state before ringing a small golden bell he took out one of the many drawers on his desk, the small metallic object making a light melody that did not match its movement, and soon after the hulking armored figure of Karadok returned to the open office.

"Karadok, you may take back the crystal ball."

"Yes, sir!"

"While you're here, tell me, did we finally get news from Grover?"

"No, mister Runar, nothing so far."

"How disappointing. What of his mandatory rune of life?"

"The rune in the shelf is still active, sir."

"Any change? Any shift of color or design?"

"No sir, nothing of the sort."

"Then not only is he alive, but his mind hasn't been altered - so, no mental enslavement or charming. He wasn't worth the resources to make a permanent tracking rune, but surely he borrowed something of value for his mission? Something that would be kept under close watch?"

"No sir. He only took funds to buy equipment, some rune-upgraded grenades, and his usual enchanted clay armor."

"Which was made by?"

"One of our workers, though it was a side-project. A personal gift, if I recall."

"Which worker, specifically?"

"Sorry sir, but I don't keep track of them. I'm your attendant and bodyguard, not HR."

"Right, right. I shouldn't expect you to know every venture of our business. Nevertheless, have a new team assembled, one comprised entirely of loyal goons."

"Sir?"

"Grover either betrayed us or was taken alive, in which case considering the amount of time that has gone by I assume he shared everything he knew. So, send someone to fetch information from Guy about any new developments from this silhouette situation and a scouting group to check over the last recorded location of Grover."

"Uh, sir, that's gonna be a bit complicated."

"And why is that?"

"No one has seen Guy for at least a week now. His informants are still running about, but..."

"Without Guy to centralize information and double-check everything, they aren't as reliable as usual. Still, take note of what they know. But, how intriguing, Guy disappears shortly after Grover does. Are you noticing a pattern, Karadok?"

"Uh... Whoever caught Grover kidnapped Guy to cover their tracks?"

"Exactly. Good job, Karadok. And what can we assume from this?"

"They don't care about making tons of people angry?"

"Yes, and it is notable, but most importantly they were intelligent enough to keep Grover alive, interrogate him, and go after Guy. This isn't simply a lost wild shadow elemental. Whatever it is, it can plan and understand the purpose of keeping prisoners alive, which means either my second theory about a Chaotic Cored is correct, or..."

"Or?"

"I hate to entertain the idea Abrak might be correct, but it isn't out of the question that we're dealing with something a little... Rarer. Maybe a young fae or weak demon? In any case, our attempt should be better prepared, and better manned. And, if that were to fail too, there is always someone I could contact to help with potentially demonic matters. I wonder how that old opportunist is doing..."

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In his tower in the Sunken City, as he stirred a strange green bubbling concoction in his cauldron, Mesker sneezed.