As the sun's rays began to envelop Redwick in warmth, Maila, accompanied by the detectives and their investigative team, headed towards the outskirts of Kudah. This area was embraced by Gurinl Forest and its centerpiece, Gurinl Lake—a place of wonder by day but shrouded in darkness and an unsettling aroma at night, reminiscent of the Ancient Battlefield's influence. Gurinl Lake itself held a disturbing history, with tales of a slaughtered dragon so malevolent that even Lord Hell might consider it for his underworld staff. Only animals dared to drink from its waters, evoking fear among humans.

Their search had been prolonged, and as the sun's last rays kissed them, Maila realized dusk was fast approaching. She pondered what was worse: the encroaching darkness or the looming presence of a serial killer.

Long ago, the discovery of Spirit Essence—a mysterious magic inherent to the earth—had sparked excitement among humans, leading to an era of excessive titles and distinctions. The Holy Church and The Ministry created a unique instrument, the Spirit Stone, capable of measuring one's Spirit Essence with just a needle prick or a touch of the stone. These stones were distributed globally, bestowing titles like "Magician" upon the blessed, categorized by skill level. However, among them thrived shamans under the Onmyoji Council's rule, a group not to be overlooked.

In Maila’s hand, the bokken—a thick wooden training sword—did its best, navigating through bushes, thickets, and grasping vegetation. Rose bushes proved especially stubborn, but Maila finally freed the bokken just as dusk settled like a thick blanket, accompanied by birdsong that created an eerie contrast. Doubts lingered about the bokken’s effectiveness against firearms, and against their elusive perpetrator. As buzzing insects attempted to bite through her thick layers of clothing, Maila felt their persistent sting. Everyone worked tirelessly, but when an icy wind howled past them, enveloping everything in darkness, Maila was stirred. Her gaze fixed on a cluster of linden trees, swaying gently in the wind. A leaf landed lightly on her nose, carrying a familiar floral scent. She blinked, raising the bokken toward the trees, prompting the detectives to focus on the same spot.

"Darkness has surrounded us. It's best to send your team home safely," Maila said, her voice sweet yet tinged with uncertainty.

After the investigative team departed, the detectives gathered around Maila, who remained focused on the trees, receiving a message only she could decipher. They approached the linden trees cautiously, their steps quiet as mice. As the floral scent intensified, Maila abruptly halted.

"Do you sense something?" Ezekiel whispered to Maila. In response, she nudged his leg with her bokken towards the direction of the trees.

"I believe there's a body over there," she replied, covering her nose.

The detectives guided Maila towards the linden trees, where they discovered a woman whose condition suggested a savage encounter, reminiscent of a lion's meal on a hungry day. Despite the darkness, Maila could discern every detail clearly, a sight she knew the detectives would find disturbing. Fragments were delicately scattered on the grass around the woman, causing Maila's stomach to churn. Suddenly, a pungent aroma of chili teased her senses, drawing her gaze to another group of linden trees standing apart, as if shunned by the others. Maila nudged the detectives again with her bokken, and silently they approached the trees with stealthy steps. When they drew close, they stopped, and Maila grasped Liam's arm. They waited in tense silence as something heavy seemed to breathe down their necks. Then, a voice pierced the darkness, crisp yet chilling, "Ah. You're one of us. Why consort with them?"

"Us."

"Them."

If not for the darkness obscuring them, one could have seen a conflicted expression on Maila, Liam, and Ezekiel.

"I'm not like you. You kill for pleasure," Maila retorted firmly, her fingers entwined with Liam's and Ezekiel's arms on either side of her.

"You misunderstand me, miss. The sprouts are mine. I embrace them naturally," the voice replied in an unsettlingly relaxed tone.

"You're a disgrace. Not even worthy of being called human. A real man respects a woman's worth," Maila shot back with fiery determination.

Liam and Ezekiel swiftly drew their pistols, but before they could fire, the temperature abruptly rose, something burning and crackling clinging to their hair and clothes. Maila's delicate skirt fluttered in the heat, and a gentle wind arrived, tickling her senses and gently lifting her hairband, which gracefully drifted to the ground. Before she could react, Liam and Ezekiel emitted a faint grunt and collapsed onto the grass, enveloped in its soft embrace. Quickly bending down, Maila checked their pulses under their noses, relief spreading across her face as she felt warmth and heard their steady heartbeats. With the assistance of her bokken, she rose to her feet and surveyed the darkness around her, finding comfort in the presence of Ezekiel and Liam.

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"Using darkness as your shield isn't something a real man does. Perhaps shame is what you're trying to conceal," Maila stated, her shoulders sagging with disappointment. "A real shame. I was even considering joining you."

The bushes rustled around the innocent linden trees, growing louder before abruptly falling silent. A pair of eyes appeared, their color and glow reflecting resignation towards life, silently screaming hope. The figure revealed itself: a man with a passionless face, who seemed to have forsaken his own existence. A heavy silence hung between them, four pairs of eyes locked in a tense stare, one pair emitting an intense glow that even Maila, usually observant, couldn't ignore.

"Does he have a twitch?" she wondered, but her attention shifted to the detectives lying like sleeping children. Awareness dawned on her.

Returning her gaze to the man, she hesitated, then touched her stomach. " When will it happen?" she wondered.

As the silence threatened to linger, the man suddenly spoke, his eyes now shining brighter than the stars.

"Speak, woman! Who are you?" His intense gaze held Maila's attention, confirming he was using his gift.

A sly smile curled on her lips, a glint in her eye that would make even a fox turn away. "You must be truly impotent if that's your only power. My heart goes out to you." Her words were laden with emotion, but the man, despite his imposing demeanor, misinterpreted them.

"Burn in hell!" he roared, the sound echoing through the air, the temperature rising sharply. The oppressive heat weighed heavily on Maila's lungs, causing her to cough in protest. A hint of scorched aroma stung her nostrils, and she reflexively touched her hair. "Damn, my hair!" Her heart raced like a wild horse, her head darting in all directions as her fingers frantically fumbled, but there was no sign of flames engulfing anything. The oppressive heat coiled around her legs like a dragon, occasionally licking her skin with its merciless touch. Maila's legs buckled, and she sank to the ground, the grass cradling her gently as her knees met the earth. Her teeth clenched, grinding against each other in hope that the ordeal would soon pass.

"How disappointing that your weakness is revealed now. Your incompetence doesn't surprise me," the man's words were gentle yet carried an underlying hardness that even the nearby foliage seemed to sense.

Maila's hands gripped the soft grass, seeking solace in its coolness. "My energy is solely for privacy," she replied, her fingers finding their way into her bag, fumbling with a paper box and pulling out a random Spirit Card, silently praying to the spirits. A small, seemingly insignificant bush appeared, its dark yet luminous eyes more powerful than the finest ruby, resting in Maila's hand, its warmth reassuring her fingertips. The Sacred Flame. A sigh of relief escaped Maila as she thanked the Spirits.

"Blackie!" she called out, her throat dry beyond comparison.

A bush hovered out of the card, its body wrapped in a veil of dancing flames, darker than Lord Hell’s gate, its eyes so piercing that nature bent beneath it.

A deep chuckle rumbled in the man's throat. "Is that insignificant creature even sentient? I'm shaking in my boots. So you're a shaman."

Maila tasted the bitter word "shaman" in her mouth, once was more than enough. It didn't sit well with her, and she stuck out her tongue in protest. "Blackie is a remarkable bush. His eyes alone are enough to defeat you."

Suddenly, Ezekiel's body radiated a golden brilliance that even a gold bar would envy, showering everyone nearby with soothing orbs of light. Liam and Ezekiel were caressed by this warm glow, as were the treetops, illuminating the area with a comforting warmth that even the sleeping detectives felt. As Maila observed the Grassflies welcoming them, she was reminded of the Spirit Festival, the taste almost on her lips. She commanded Blackie to confront the man. But instead, he asked innocently, tinged with slyness, "Miss, may I see your delicate panties before I begin?"

"Control your flames, or you won't see daylight again," Maila retorted, embarrassment flushing her cheeks hotter than the man's flames.

"Understood," Blackie replied. "If I perform well, will you reward me with your panties?" A golden streak glimmered in his crackling flames, forming a radiant crescent.

"Maybe. Only if you perform your task meticulously," Maila replied, feeling her cheeks heat up several degrees. If the darkness had lifted, the man would see her face resembling two small steaming tomatoes.

The man, struggling to keep up with their conversation, wore a blank expression, as if he had taken too many blows to the head—functional but lost. His tongue slipped, murmuring a question that made the Grassflies stop their dance and turn towards them. Maila's silence was her answer, prompting the man's hands to react sharply, conjuring flames larger than a bonfire, swirling around him, awaiting his command. But his mind faltered, and a gentle crackling of smoke snapped him back.

"My flames are dipped in Lord Hell's Abyss!" he suddenly roared.

Maila's silence persisted, provoking another reaction. The man's hands moved with mystique, flames dancing in sync and advancing towards Maila. Swiftly, Blackie swooped in, devouring the flames one by one, further enraging the man, whose fury echoed for miles. More flames erupted from his hands, now as large as a forest fire, menacingly aimed at Maila. Yet Blackie continued to consume them, integrating them into himself. The man continued to produce flames relentlessly, like a robot lacking a stop command. Seconds stretched into minutes, and several tense moments later, the man abruptly ceased. His breath was heavy, almost tangible on Maila's nose, his hands resting on his knees as they sank into the grass.

"Kenta will be upset if he doesn't get his dinner on time," Maila thought, the man's presence evoking memories of Kenta, whose whiskers would tickle her face as he sniffed.