As the airship descended into Londona, the sprawling metropolis of the Shadow Abyss region came into view. The once-vivid landscapes faded into a scene of gloom, the sky thick with smog and the streets below bustling with chaotic energy.

Ika leaned over to get a better look, her eyes widening with a mixture of unease and disappointment. “This looks nothing like the pictures in the magazine,” she said, her voice tinged with nervousness.

The city was a maze of industrial grit, crisscrossed by train lines and clogged with traffic. It was a noisy, polluted contrast to the fresh air and regal beauty of Aurelia. From the airship’s deck, the group could hear the sounds of machinery grinding, horns blaring, and people shouting as they rushed about.

As they disembarked, a man in a uniform stood waiting at the end of the platform, holding a sign with their names. They were easy to spot, as the students bore the distinctive brooch of the Academia—a bursting sun insignia, the same symbol carried by the house of Elysionsonn.

“Captain Henry,” the man introduced himself as they approached. “I’m in charge of your accommodations and your mission briefing while you’re here in Londona.”

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Henry led them to a waiting vehicle, a utilitarian machine that matched the city’s gritty atmosphere. As they drove through the crowded streets, Hans leaned forward, curiosity evident in his tone. “So, Captain Henry, what can you tell us about Londona? It’s so... different from the capital.”

Henry chuckled, his eyes fixed on the road. “I’ve lived here my whole life. Everything that seems strange or unusual to you is just another day for us. The traffic jams, the grumpy pedestrians, the never-ending noise—this is Londona.”

Ika glanced out the window, watching the endless streams of people and vehicles. The air felt heavy, and the city’s oppressive energy was a stark contrast to her serene hometown of Serenara.

Hans pressed further. “What about the titan attacks? What’s the situation like?”

Henry’s expression darkened, his grip tightening on the wheel. “It’s bad,” he admitted grimly. “So far, there’ve been five victims. The attacks seem random at first glance, but each death was... different. Different causes, almost as if done by separate titans, and it always happened during night time.”

“That’s odd,” Flo said, frowning. “What about the tracks? Surely there’s some trail to follow.”

Henry shook his head, his tone laced with frustration. “That’s the strangest part. The tracks vanish. Completely. No sign of where the titan—or titans—went. It’s like they just disappear after each attack.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances as their carriage came to a halt in front of the magistrate's office, a grand but weathered building that spoke of Londona’s long-standing history and its struggles against time and turmoil. The five stepped inside, accompanied by Captain Henry, and were promptly ushered into the office of Baron Ewan, the city's magistrate.

Baron Ewan was a man in his late years, his face lined with experience, his gaze sharp despite his age. He welcomed the group with a raspy cough, gesturing for them to take their seats.

“Well, I believe you’ve read the dossier,” he began, his voice a mix of authority and weariness. “There have been five victims so far, and some of the incident sites have even been burned down. Whatever titan is behind this, I want it exterminated. The people of Londona shouldn’t have to live in fear.”

He paused to cough again before continuing. “Take whatever resources you need. I want this city to return to safety.”

Baron Ewan turned to Captain Henry, handing him a small stack of vouchers. “These are for your accommodations at Ten Bells Inn. Captain, assist them with all your might.”

The students nodded, their expressions a mix of determination and unease. Marge’s attention was drawn to a large map of Londona pinned on the wall. She studied it briefly, noting the size of the city—about half the size of Aurelia. Trekking titan attacks across a city this vast, without a clear pattern, would be a daunting task. She took the map off the wall and joined the others as they departed for their accommodations.

——

At Ten Bells Inn, the group gathered in their shared room to strategize. The room was simple but comfortable, its warm light contrasting with the cold tension of the task ahead.

“We need to set up surveillance first,” Marge said, taking out the map they had taken from the magistrate’s office. She turned to Flo. “We should split the city. I’ll cover the west side, and you take the east.”

Her ring, Lethal Moon, began to glow faintly, and ethereal moths materialized around her. The luminescent creatures flitted in the air, their presence both beautiful and unsettling. Ika and Rem, seeing Marge’s power up close for the first time, exchanged glances of awe.

Marge opened the room’s window and released the moths into the night, their ghostly forms disappearing into the darkness. Flo followed suit, activating her own ring, Gorgon Rose. The glow of her ring intensified as her hand extended through the window, and thorny rose vines began to creep out, spreading across the ground and expanding eastward. The effort drained her, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

With the surveillance in motion, Marge turned back to the group. “Now, let’s look at the past incident sites.”

Captain Henry unfurled the map, placing it on the table. He marked the locations of the attacks, each one seemingly random. Hans leaned over, analyzing the map. “There’s no clear pattern here,” he said, his brow furrowed. “It just looks like random acts of violence.”

Ika, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “Why don’t we start with the most recent site? Maybe we’ll find something the magistrate’s men missed.”

The others nodded in agreement, and Marge turned to Captain Henry. “Please take us to the latest site.”

Henry nodded, gathering his coat. The six departed the inn and climbed into the waiting carriage. The streets of Londona, now shrouded in an eerie quiet, seemed to close in on them as they made their way to the Gainsworth’s estate.

The Gainsworth’s abode, the site of the most recent attack, was a modest yet well-kept home on the outskirts of a bustling merchant district. The air around the area felt heavy, as though the tragedy that occurred there had left a lingering shadow.

As they stepped out of the carriage, the students surveyed their surroundings. The building bore scorch marks on its walls, the ground littered with debris. Windows were shattered, and the faint smell of burned wood lingered in the air.

“This is it,” Captain Henry said, his tone grim. “The last victim, Gainsworth, was a merchant. He lived here with his family. They weren’t home during the attack, thankfully, but…” He trailed off, the implication clear.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Marge took the lead, stepping cautiously toward the house. “Let’s see what we can find,” she said, her voice steady. The others followed, their nerves taut as they prepared to delve deeper into the mystery of Londona’s titan rampage.

Marge pushed open the charred front door cautiously, the hinges creaking under her touch. The smell of smoke and ash lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive. Captain Henry led them up a winding staircase to the second floor, where the incident was most likely to have occurred.

As they moved through the house, something about the destruction struck them as odd. Hans spoke first, his voice echoing in the stillness. “If this was the work of a titan, it seems… too clean.”

He gestured at the walls and furniture. While the scorch marks and burnt areas were undeniable, the rest of the house appeared strangely untouched. No signs of the chaotic destruction that usually accompanied a titan’s rampage were present. It was as if the damage had been an afterthought, staged to mimic the aftermath of a titan attack.

Marge paused at the doorway to a room on the second floor. The moment she stepped inside, a palpable wave of malevolence washed over her. The residual energy of a titan lingered in the air like an oppressive fog. “There’s no mistaking this,” she murmured. “A titan was definitely here.”

Ika stepped forward, activating her ring, Sacred Bell. Tiny orbs of purifying flame ignited and floated around the room, casting flickering light that illuminated the darkened corners. The flames grew stronger as she approached a specific spot near the center of the room. Kneeling down, Ika touched the ashes on the floor—a mixture of burned wood and human remains.

“This is unmistakably the work of a titan,” Ika said, her voice low. She closed her eyes and let the purifying power of her flames flow, cleansing the lingering malevolent energy. “But… it doesn’t feel natural. It feels like the titan was summoned here, by someone or something.”

Marge nodded, her expression grim. “Let’s search for clues. We need to figure out what happened here.”

Hans and Rem headed downstairs, making their way to the kitchen at the back of the house. As they moved, Hans stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing. On the floor, faint beneath the scorched marks, was a patch that looked like dried blood. “Marge, Ika, Flo,” he called out. “You need to see this.”

The rest of the team quickly joined them. Hans knelt and pointed at the faint bloodstains on the floor. “It looks like Gainsworth was wounded here and tried to make his way upstairs,” Hans deduced.

Rem moved to the back door, inspecting it closely. She opened it to reveal more signs: streaks of dried blood, muddy footprints leading inside, and—most alarming of all—claw marks that gouged deep into the doorframe. She tilted her head, studying the claw marks closely. “These… they came from nowhere,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Marge asked, stepping closer.

Rem pointed to the ground just beyond the doorway. “There is no sign of tracks that lead here. They just… start. As if whatever it was appeared out of thin air.”

Hans frowned. “Could this be the work of a magical portal?”

“It’s possible,” Ika said, her flames flickering around her as she studied the scene. “The malevolent energy upstairs didn’t feel entirely stable. If someone or something summoned a titan, a portal could explain its sudden appearance and disappearance.”

Marge stood back, her arms crossed as she took in the evidence. “So Gainsworth was attacked in the kitchen, fled upstairs, and whatever this thing was followed him. But why? If this titan was summoned, there’s a reason behind it. Titans don’t just randomly pick victims.”

Ika nodded. “It’s deliberate. And that means whoever summoned it wanted something.”

Marge turned to Captain Henry, her expression determined. “We need to dig deeper into Gainsworth’s background. His business dealings, personal disputes—anything that might point to why someone would summon a titan to target him. And these inconsistent traces? They’re not adding up.”

Henry’s brow furrowed as he nodded. “You’re right. I’ll check into it. If there’s anything unusual in Gainsworth’s history, we’ll uncover it. There might even be something in the town clerk’s records that could help.”

Marge crossed her arms, her mind racing. “Good. Let’s rest for tonight. Tomorrow, we need to regroup and go over everything we’ve found so far. If this is the work of a summoner, there’s a pattern here—we’re just not seeing it yet. And we need to figure it out before anyone else gets hurt.”

——

In the dimly lit town clerk’s office, Flo and Ika sat surrounded by stacks of dusty ledgers and fading parchments. Flo squinted at the messy handwriting on the crumbling papers. “These records are ridiculous,” she groaned, tossing one aside. “It’s like someone deliberately wanted to make this impossible to read.”

Ika rubbed her temples in frustration. “It’s not just that. It feels like entire sections are missing. Gainsworth’s name barely shows up, and when it does, the details are vague—just generic mentions of trade agreements or tax filings.” She flipped another page, her finger tracing a faded entry. “If he was targeted, there’s got to be something in his background to explain it.”

Flo sighed, leaning back in her chair. “We’ll keep digging, but whoever did this either didn’t want anyone to find anything—or they were very sloppy at record-keeping.”

Meanwhile, across the city, Hans, Rem, Marge, and Captain Henry patrolled the quiet streets of Londona. The air was heavy, the usual hum of the bustling metropolis replaced by an eerie silence. The fog thickened as they walked, tendrils of it curling around streetlamps and dimming their light.

Marge glanced at Henry, her eyes narrowing. “When did these attacks start?”

Henry sighed, keeping his hand near the hilt of his blade. “About three weeks ago. Five victims so far. Every single one found in pieces, in the most horrifying conditions. There’s no pattern—no clear motive. We’ve been increasing patrols, but it’s like chasing shadows.”

Hans coughed as the dense fog began to bite at his lungs. He squinted into the distance, noticing faint, flickering lights beyond the haze. “What’s that over there?” He pointed toward the fog-shrouded horizon.

“That’s the port,” Henry explained. “Ships from the eastern region dock there. Goods travel faster by sea than by land.”

Hans frowned. “But at this hour? Why would ships still be active around midnight?”

Henry shrugged. “Londona doesn’t sleep. It could be routine—or something else entirely.”

The conversation was cut short when Marge’s expression suddenly changed. Her gaze snapped to one of her glowing moths hovering in the distance. “It’s here,” she said firmly. “A titan. North wing.”

Without hesitation, the group bolted toward the signal. Marge grunted under her breath as they ran, her frustration mounting. “I should’ve asked for a horse or something. This city is way too big to be running on foot.”

The fog seemed to thicken with every step, slowing their progress. Then, abruptly, Marge came to a halt. Her eyes narrowed as she stared into the void ahead. “I’ve lost it,” she growled.

“What do you mean?” Rem asked, her voice edged with concern.

“Something cut off my moth,” Marge replied, her fists clenched. “It just... vanished.”

——

The group pressed on cautiously, their breaths quickening as they reached a shattered house. The front window had been blown out, glass littering the street like jagged stars. Lights flickered on the second floor, their glow spilling onto the fog-drenched ground.

Captain Henry drew his sword, his voice low but firm. “Stay sharp. Whatever did this could still be inside.”

Marge stepped forward, her ring faintly glowing. “No chances. Be ready for anything.”

The four stood at the threshold, tension crackling in the air as they prepared themselves to face whatever malevolent force awaited them within the house. As the group barged into the house, a strange, suffocating scent filled the air. The interior was veiled in thick, silky webs that clung to the walls, ceiling, and furniture. Marge’s moths fluttered weakly, tangled in the sticky strands, their faint glow flickering like dying embers.

Rem unsheathed her dagger, slicing through the webs with quick, precise motions. "This is different," she muttered. "Not like the last house.”

Marge nodded grimly. “Yeah. No burn marks, no ash. This... feels like the work of an entirely different titan.”

They split up, moving cautiously through the webbed corridors. Marge and Hans rushed toward the second floor, their boots crunching on the brittle webs beneath them. As they entered the master bedroom, they froze.

A woman was suspended in the corner, wrapped tightly in a grotesque cocoon of webbing. Her skin had turned a ghastly shade of blue, her lifeless face twisted in pain. Poison, Marge thought, her chest tightening at the sight.

Beside the cocoon, a small metal safe box lay on the floor, partially hidden by fallen furniture. Hans crouched down, inspecting the box carefully. “This was what they were after,” he murmured, his voice heavy with certainty.

Marge looked at him sharply. “How can you tell?”

Hans ran his fingers along the box’s edges, feeling the faint hum of energy. “It’s sealed with magical power. Whatever was inside here, they didn’t want anyone else getting to it.”

Marge gritted her teeth. “We’re too late... again. And just like the last house, the titan’s tracks vanish as if it was summoned.”

Hans straightened, his expression dark. “This isn’t random. Someone’s controlling them.”

Meanwhile, back at the town clerk’s office, Flo leaned against the desk, her eyelids drooping. The endless flipping of dusty records had drained her energy. Ika, still hunched over a pile of documents, glanced up at her and chuckled softly.

“You’re no use to me if you’re half-asleep,” Ika teased. “Go wash your face or something. It’ll freshen you up.”

“Fine,” Flo groaned, dragging herself toward the washroom. “But if you find something big, don’t hog the glory.”

Ika smirked, shaking her head as Flo disappeared into the hallway. She turned back to the records, squinting at the faint, hastily scrawled notes. Most of the information seemed deliberately vague, as if someone had gone to great lengths to conceal key details.

Suddenly, the air in the room grew colder. From the shadowy corners, a sinister figure emerged, its movements unnervingly silent. Ika barely had time to react before she felt a sharp blow to the back of her head. Her vision blurred as she collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

The figure dragged her limp body into the shadows, disappearing without a trace.

When Flo returned minutes later, wiping her face with a cloth, she frowned. “Hey, Ika, I—” She stopped abruptly, her gaze darting around the empty room. Papers were scattered across the desk, the chair overturned.

“Ika?” Flo called out, her voice tinged with panic.

The room was silent, save for the faint creak of the old wooden floorboards. Ika was gone.