With everyone in agreement and their new looks in place, they prepared to head out. Vas took a moment, glancing around at the assembled group. They looked rough and ready, but for the first time, he sensed a true cohesion. Morrigan's idea seemed to have sparked something powerful. Seeing them now, united and standing together with an unspoken commitment, Vas couldn't help but wonder how things would unfold in the future.

Lewis gestured, nodding for Vas to follow. The two made their way toward The Undercity. It was night, and the moon cast a pale glow over the alleys and towering buildings, making their path seem like a journey through shadow and silver. After weaving through narrow streets and hidden pathways, Lewis led Vas to an unassuming, run-down shop. It had a cracked, dusty window, faint neon lights flickering over the entrance, and a dilapidated sign that could barely be read.

Once inside, Lewis walked directly to the counter and ordered, "A blueberry soda." The server—a grizzled older man with a knowing glint in his eye—nodded without a word, pressing a hidden button beneath the counter. A hidden trapdoor on the floor creaked open, revealing a stairway that led down to the underground level.

The underground area was surprisingly vast, with tall white-painted columns spaced out through the dimly lit room. Vas stayed close to Lewis, watching as the space slowly filled with a diverse crowd. People trickled in, each with their unique style. Some were sharply dressed in sleek, expensive outfits, their demeanor calm and reserved. Others wore clothes that seemed held together by sheer determination, while a few had leather jackets and ink-covered skin, tattoos crawling over their arms, necks, and faces. Vas didn't react, but he took careful note of every detail, instinctively cataloging faces, styles, and energy.

"All the gangs of The Undercity," Lewis murmured, breaking the silence. He gave Vas a sidelong look, speaking quietly but with intensity. "Doing business here… it's both easy and hard."

Vas raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "How so?"

"This city's huge. Big enough that deals can go down without everyone breathing down each other's necks," Lewis explained, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "But it's tricky. Cross the wrong person—say, someone with ties to the Hek family or the von Kreuz family—and you're done for. They don't forgive."

"Understandable," Vas replied, his expression giving nothing away.

Lewis hesitated, and then, almost awkwardly, he turned to Vas. "Hey, Vastian…"

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"Call me Vas," Vas corrected, nodding for him to continue.

"Right, Vas." Lewis took a breath, eyes momentarily downcast. "I wanted to say—I'm sorry for what happened when we first met. And I'm thankful. You gave both me and my sister a real chance."

Vas shrugged, dismissing it lightly. "No problem. According to Trismegistus, you both show promise. Repay what I did by turning that promise into reality."

Lewis nodded, his voice more relaxed as he added, "Got it, Vas. The spiky white-haired guy should be here soon."

"Good to know," Vas said, his voice edged with amusement. "So, how's your progress with the Archetype?"

Lewis's face brightened. "Meeting with Trismegistus and you has helped a lot. I chose my tattoos as my mediums. The weird part is… the tattoos changed." He paused, as if recalling the eerie transformation. "On my back, it's like a raven perches over a series of twisted lines. Trismegistus called it a Celtic knot."

Vas studied him thoughtfully. "Interesting. And your Anima control?"

Lewis exhaled, his brow creasing. "A work in progress. Trismegistus said that once I can manage even a small amount of Anima, she'll try some ancient method to speed things up. But it's… challenging. I'm getting a better grip on The Occult and what it demands, though."

"Good," Vas said, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Keep at it. If you follow Trismegistus's teachings, you'll become stronger. Actually, scratch that—she'll probably force you to, whether you like it or not."

Lewis chuckled nervously, glancing at the floor. "That sounds… ominous."

Vas's smirk widened. "Only if you slack off."

They fell silent as more people filed in.

Finally, the spiky white-haired man entered. His stride was purposeful, commanding, as though he owned the entire space. He moved through the crowd with the confidence of someone well-accustomed to authority.

"He's not a bonded," Morrigan's voice murmured in Vas's mind, calm but attentive.

"I know," Vas replied silently. "But that doesn't mean he isn't enhanced. I've seen way too many people with tech modifications."

"Agreed. Let's just hear him out for now, see what he has to say before making any moves," Morrigan responded.

Vas turned to Lewis. "Keep an eye on the crowd. Take note of anyone who seems particularly eager to join him or who might already be involved."

Lewis nodded, his gaze sharpening. "Understood."

They watched and waited as the rest of the room settled. Finally, the white-haired man took center stage and began speaking, his voice smooth and confident.

"Good evening, everyone. Call me Jord," he introduced himself, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "I'm here with an opportunity. In three months, my organization will be hosting a special auction. Each of you will have a chance to submit items. We'll split the profits with you, but in return, we'll need your help with security."

A skeptical voice rang out from the back. "Why would you need our help with security?"

Jord flashed a sharp smile. "Because we're planning to make this an event. We'll hold three separate auctions—one in The Canopy, one in The Middle Tier, and the last here in The Undercity. We'll need all hands on deck. Even if we got help from the authorities, it wouldn't be enough."

"They're trying to stoke greed," Vas observed to Morrigan. "Trying to draw people in by making this a huge spectacle."

"That's likely," Morrigan agreed. "Three months gives us some time, though. By then, the rest of the team will be ready to support us."

"Right. Plus, if Lewis and his gang handle security, it'll give us an inside advantage." Vas's thoughts turned more strategic. "But for that to work, he'll need to be the leader."

"That's manageable," Morrigan assured him.