As they moved deeper into the room, Giolio's gaze fell on a bloodied notebook lying on the floor, half-hidden under one of the mutilated bodies. The crimson-stained cover seemed to pulse faintly, almost as if alive. Against his better judgment, he reached down and picked it up.

The moment his fingers touched the cover, his eyes widened in terror. A cacophony of dark whispers erupted in his mind, incoherent but filled with malice. They clawed at his thoughts, sending shivers down his spine. Giolio let out a strangled cry and dropped the notebook as though it had burned him.

"What's wrong?" Vargas demanded, spinning around to face him, his weapon raised.

Giolio stumbled back, clutching his head. "Whispers... dark whispers... it was like something was inside my head, trying to—trying to pull me into the dark!"

Vargas frowned and stepped forward cautiously, his gaze fixed on the notebook. A faint, malevolent aura surrounded it—a deep, dark purple glow that seemed to ripple like an oil slick. Vargas didn't need any magic to feel the weight of its presence. It was as though the object was watching him, waiting.

"Stay back," Vargas ordered, lowering his weapon and slowly kneeling by the notebook. "It's infused with something—likely a demonic artifact. Whatever Maria was doing, this might have been part of it."

"Y-you're not seriously going to touch it, are you?" Giolio stammered, his voice trembling.

Ignoring him, Vargas slipped on his gloves, the enchanted material designed to handle cursed objects without immediate harm. He reached down, gripping the book tightly, and immediately his mind was assaulted.

Loud, dissonant whispers roared through his consciousness, overlapping and incomprehensible. Some words became clear, only to be drowned out again: "Suffering... sacrifice... release..." The malevolent presence radiating from the book seemed to dig into his thoughts, prying into his memories, searching for weaknesses.

Vargas clenched his jaw, forcing his breathing to steady. As an Awakened and an investigator, he was no stranger to mental attacks, but this was something else—an unrelenting tide of darkness, far more invasive. His vision swam as he glimpsed flashes of grotesque scenes: ritual sacrifices, a figure cloaked in shadows, and Maria herself, standing before an altar with blood dripping from her hands.

"Vargas?" Giolio's voice pierced through the haze, trembling but insistent. "Are you... okay?"

With a grunt, Vargas fought back the whispers, focusing on his training. He shook his head sharply, clearing his thoughts, and the voices receded slightly, though the oppressive presence lingered.

"I'm fine," he growled, though his voice was strained. He stood, holding the notebook firmly. "This thing is tied to the ritual—maybe even to the changeling. We're taking it with us."

Giolio recoiled. "With us? Are you insane? That thing's cursed! It'll—"

"Enough," Vargas barked, cutting him off. "If this is a clue, we need it. Whatever's in this book, we'll figure it out later. For now, we move." His tone brooked no argument, and Giolio fell silent, though his face remained etched with fear.

As Vargas secured the notebook in a containment pouch, the dark aura seemed to pulse ominously, as though aware of its captivity. The whispers in his mind had quieted, but they hadn't disappeared entirely, lingering like a distant echo.

"Let's go," Vargas said, his tone cold and resolute. "We're getting closer to the truth. Stay alert."

Giolio swallowed hard and followed, glancing nervously over his shoulder as they left the blood-soaked chamber behind.

As they exited the apartment, Vargas felt an unsettling prickle on the back of his neck. His instincts screamed at him, honed from years of experience. He quickly spun on his heel, his eyes snapping to a nearby rooftop.

A shadowy figure was perched there, barely visible in the dim light of the overcast evening. The figure's silhouette was humanoid but shrouded in darkness, its edges blurred as if it weren't entirely tethered to this world. The moment Vargas locked eyes on it, the figure recoiled, disappearing in a fluid motion that was unnervingly unnatural.

"Giolio!" Vargas barked, his voice sharp and commanding. "After it! Now!"

Giolio froze mid-step, his eyes widening. "Me?!" he stammered, pointing to himself in disbelief. "Why not you? You're the one with—"

"Move, damn it!" Vargas snapped, cutting him off. "I'll cover you from below. Don't let it get away!"

Grumbling under his breath, Giolio begrudgingly complied. He closed his eyes for a split second, flaring his aera, and his body seemed to hum with newfound energy. With a quick leap, he propelled himself toward the adjacent building, landing gracefully on its edge.

"I swear, if I die chasing some shadow, I'm haunting you!" Giolio hissed over his shoulder as he dashed toward the rooftop where the figure had been.

The enhanced speed and agility from his aera allowed Giolio to hop between rooftops effortlessly, his movements fluid despite his earlier hesitation. The figure darted ahead, unnaturally swift, moving almost as if it were gliding rather than running. Giolio pushed himself harder, his breaths sharp and rapid, the thrill of the chase overtaking his fear.

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"Vargas, this thing's fast!" Giolio called back, his voice strained. "If it's a demon, I'm gonna need a hell of a raise after this!"

"Just keep on it!" Vargas shouted from below, sprinting to keep pace on the street, his weapon drawn and scanning the rooftops. His sharp eyes caught glimpses of the shadow darting ahead, leading them deeper into the city.

As Giolio closed the gap, the figure glanced back, its shadowy face unreadable. For a brief moment, Giolio swore he saw glowing, crimson eyes piercing through the darkness. A chill ran down his spine, but he shook it off and pushed forward.

"You're not getting away from me!" Giolio growled, summoning a burst of Aera to leap over a gap between buildings. His feet landed hard, the impact reverberating through his legs, but he kept moving.

The figure turned sharply, heading toward a section of crumbling rooftops where the architecture was uneven. It slipped into the shadows, vanishing from sight. Giolio skidded to a stop, his enhanced senses on high alert.

"Vargas! It's trying to lose me in the rubble!" he shouted.

"Keep your eyes open! It's toying with us," Vargas called back, his tone grim. He slowed his pace on the ground, scanning for signs of the figure below the rooftops.

Giolio crept forward, the decayed rooftop creaking under his feet. His heart pounded as he glanced around, his hands ready to unleash a burst of defensive Aera if needed. He muttered to himself, "Come on, you creepy shadow... show yourself."

Suddenly, a noise—a faint whisper, like wind but distinctly unnatural—echoed behind him. Giolio spun around, fists raised, but nothing was there.

"Giolio, report!" Vargas's voice crackled over his comm.

Giolio swallowed hard, his voice shaky. "I—I don't see it anymore. I think it's hiding."

"Stay sharp," Vargas replied. "It's not done with us yet."

Giolio's hands trembled slightly as he summoned his courage and focused his Aera. A crackling beam of light formed in his palm, illuminating the dark rooftop with a radiant glow. "Let's see you hide from this!" he muttered, launching the beam toward the rubble where the figure had vanished.

To his shock, the beam dissipated mid-flight, fizzling out as if snuffed by an unseen force. Giolio blinked in disbelief. "What the hell?" he muttered.

With no other options, Giolio growled in frustration, channeling his remaining aera into his fist. His arm glowed faintly as he charged at the crumbled structure. With a shout, he drove his fist into the rubble, the impact sending a shockwave through the aged rooftop and shattering a large section of the debris. Dust and debris exploded outward, forcing Giolio to stagger back, coughing.

As the dust settled, Giolio wobbled slightly, sweat dripping down his face. The exertion of using so much magic in the null pylon's range had drained him severely. His legs felt weak, and he leaned against a broken beam for support. "Damn... didn't think just this would take so much out of me," he muttered, panting.

Vargas called from below, his voice sharp with concern. "Giolio! What's going on? Are you all right?"

Before Giolio could respond, the figure tumbled out of the destroyed rubble, landing in a heap a few feet away. Giolio instinctively raised his hands in defense, ready for a fight, but froze when he got a clearer look. His eyes widened.

It wasn't a shadowy demon or a monstrous entity. It was a young girl.

She appeared frail and disoriented, her messy brown hair framing a face smudged with dirt. She wore tattered clothes and clutched a small satchel tightly to her chest. Her wide, fearful eyes darted between Giolio and any escape route, her lips trembling as if she were about to speak but couldn't find the words.

Giolio, still catching his breath, stared at her, dumbfounded. "Y-you're... Emilie?" he asked, his voice cracking.

The girl flinched at the sound of her name, taking a step back, but said nothing. Vargas reached the rooftop moments later, climbing up with his enhanced agility. He stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the unexpected sight.

"Emilie," Vargas said firmly, his tone cautious but authoritative. "We're not here to hurt you. We're here to help."

The girl's trembling hands tightened around the satchel, her eyes filled with mistrust and fear. "Stay away from me!" she finally screamed, her voice raw and filled with panic. Her gaze darted to the edge of the roof, as though considering an escape.

"Wait!" Vargas called, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "We just want to talk. Whatever's happening, we can protect you. But you need to trust us."

Emilie's eyes flicked between the two of them, her breathing shallow and rapid. The tension in the air was palpable, and Vargas knew they had mere moments to convince her before she bolted—or worse.

Vargas took a cautious step forward, unholstering his guns and dropping them to the floor. He lowered his voice to a calm and steady tone. "Emilie, we've met before. Remember? A few days ago, we ran into each other on the street. You probably don't remember much—I was in a rush, and so were you."

The girl's eyes narrowed slightly, confusion flickering across her face. Her grip on the satchel loosened, if only slightly.

"I'm Vargas," he continued, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, "an Investigator for the Federation. I've been looking for you. Not to harm you—" He held his hands up again, palms out. "—but because I think you're in danger. Whatever happened to Maria, I think you have an idea about it.".

Emilie took a step back, her eyes darting toward the edge of the roof again. "You're lying!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "The Federation doesn't care about people like me—they don't care about anyone except themselves!"

Giolio, still leaning against the broken beam, winced at her outburst. Vargas clenched his jaw but maintained his composure. "I'm not like the others," he said firmly. "I've seen too much to ignore what's really happening. Nulls, changelings, demon rituals—things most people wouldn't believe. I believe you're caught in the middle of something bigger than you realize. And if I'm right, you need my help to survive this."

Her expression wavered for a moment, a mix of anger and fear giving way to something more vulnerable. But then her eyes hardened again. "How do I know you're not lying? That you're not just here to lock me up like they do with all the others?"

Vargas hesitated. She had every right to distrust him. After all, the Federation's history with Nulls and other marginalized individuals wasn't exactly spotless. "Because if I wanted to harm you," he said softly, "I wouldn't be here talking to you. I'd have brought an entire squad. But it's just me and Giolio here. No backup. No traps. Just us."

Giolio, still recovering, raised a shaky hand. "H-he's not lying. I didn't even want to come here, for the record," he muttered, earning a sharp glare from Vargas.

Emilie's eyes flicked between them again, her breathing still shallow. She didn't step forward, but she didn't retreat either. Her voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. "If you're telling the truth... then why did Maria do what she did? Why did she..." Her voice broke, and tears began welling up in her eyes. "Why did she leave me behind?"

Vargas sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "That's what I'm trying to figure out, Emilie. But I need your help to do it." He extended a hand toward her, though he stayed rooted in place. "Come with us. Let's get off this roof and figure this out together. Whatever happens, I'll protect you. On the name of the King, I swear it."

The wind howled around them, the silence stretching unbearably long as Emilie weighed her options. Her fingers tightened around the satchel once more, her decision hanging in the balance.