As soon as we land, Maya waves her hand and engages in Sliding. I employ the same ability to keep pace with her. Oddly, Maya chooses not to traverse the rooftops but instead winds through narrow alleys, almost as though she fears being watched. This strikes me as peculiar.

Within five minutes, we find ourselves in the southwestern sector of the city, close to the outskirts and near the cargo port. Maya disengages from Sliding and slows to a walk.

A part of me wants to grab Maya, demanding answers about her sudden appearance and the urgent pace that's now dissipated. But instead, I match her stride and ask in a neutral tone, "You've come back quickly from the northern sea frontiers. How's your father? Is he anxious?"

"What?!" She misses a step, but then grins, waving dismissively. "I saw my father this morning. He's fine. Concerned, sure, but he gets it and hasn't asked me to stay put or hide. Officially, he's on the 'Crusher,' but he was actually moved to the 'Prominence' a while ago. That ship patrols near the Salsa Islands, just fifty miles from Wilflaes. So I was able to see him without delay."

I'm left grappling for understanding. As we raced, I had assumed something had befallen her father and she sought my assistance. The 'why me' part remained elusive.

"Now, fill me in," I say, barely keeping my impatience in check.

Damn! I had been looking forward to observing the negotiations. Plus, I hadn't been updated on the investigation's progress. While I appreciate Maya's company, the cost seems steep right now.

"The investigative team..." she begins, then falters. "No, that won't make sense. Let me backtrack to after you left yesterday."

She succinctly recounts her escapades from the day before: how, aided by Zanh Kiem and Nein, the investigators tracked down Eshin's group responsible for the aircraft hijacking. The Third Palm, Shapeshifter Special Forces, and Maya had collaborated to apprehend the terrorists. Yet, Maya expressed discontent with the operation's outcome.

"Even the battle groups from the monasteries don't know the first thing about cooperating with raigs. And don't get me started on the shapeshifter special forces," she says with a hint of frustration. "Why fire on those affected by a raig's 'Shock'? I briefed them, even demonstrated it! I took the initiative to subdue the primary threats, aiming to capture them alive. What did I get? Seven dead, one critically injured. The Eshin group's leader, whom I had neutralized, had a muscular spasm under the Shock effect, and they blew his arm off. Worse, they used a silver bullet, and he's now comatose. The captain of the special forces later tried to justify it as instinctual..."

It turns out that while I was deep in slumber, Maya, the Third Palm, and the curators were anything but idle; they were busy at work. Nein and the investigators from Wilflaes worked tirelessly throughout the night and into the morning. Their dedication paid off: they untangled several intricate threads and started pulling at the loose ends. Evidently, in their effort to cover their tracks, especially in such drastic measures as the plane's crash, Eshin made a critical error. It's an error that individuals like Zanh Kiem can exploit to its fullest. This realization, even in the state of Projection, warmed my hands.

Maya's narrative went on, informing me of further investigation developments. She started with the terrorists' attack: how the technical service employees, responsible for the BKDW headquarters' upkeep, were coerced into complicity either by blackmail or threats to their families. Then she detailed how every investigative thread was cleanly severed. From her account, it was evident that without the timely arrival of the Third Palm, the investigation would have likely hit a solid wall.

Suddenly cutting her tale short, Maya picked up speed, soaring towards the rooftop of one of the old port's office buildings. I easily matched her pace and soon stood next to her, looking over the fence.

"One of the more discreet leads brought us here," Maya gestured towards an old, dilapidated warehouse complex marked for demolition, where the foundation for new structures was already underway. "Our intel suggests that leaders of two 'trash' clans from the feline families are set to convene here. The 'agenda'? Dividing the rat clans' territories."

"And how do these felines come into play?" I asked, seeking clarification.

"The same group that was behind the plane's hijacking had a mission: eliminate the negotiators. The order didn't originate from local factions, who remain oblivious to this gathering, but straight from Eshin. Just because we took out that particular group doesn't mean Eshin's plans are thwarted. They might dispatch another group. Mr. Alir believes that the rat's position in Wilflaes is tenuous at best, teetering on the edge of collapse. Should they delay, their influence in the capital will diminish almost entirely."

"Who is this Mr. Alir?" I inquired.

"He serves the heir as a curator of Wilflaes' criminal underworld," Maya replied nonchalantly, as though speaking of something trivial. "If you'd like, I can introduce you. He's nearby, actually."

"He's overseeing the operation?" I remarked, impressed. It was evident that the heir approached his responsibilities surprisingly seriously if he had such a person in his inner circle.

"More of a consultant. Mr. Tunk is the one in charge of the investigation on behalf of the Castle."

"Why not Rock?"

"He already has his hands full with us," Maya remarked with a slight smirk, appearing somewhat embarrassed about the city raigs' actions not being in sync.

"Is Zanh Kiem on site as well?"

"No, neither he nor his team are here," Maya clarified before I could continue. "Nein speculated that a Dark Adept might be involved in the attack. To avoid alerting him, the sensums chose to remain distant since we're unfamiliar with this particular dark branch's capabilities. Given that none have managed to apprehend them for centuriesthey likely have a very developed gut feeling toward the strong and trained Gifted. It's mere speculation, but we didn't want to take any chances."

"So, we're here to..." I trailed off, giving her an opportunity to complete the thought.

"Once things kick off, an anonymous special forces team will jump in. A chaotic firefight will ensue. I've surveyed this compound, and there are two concealed exits. Our job will be to block and monitor them, ensuring no one escapes."

"Why bring me into this? Wouldn't it have been simpler to muster a group of raigs and seal the place off? Many Knights would benefit from being more involved in the investigation, giving them a sense of purpose."

"It's not that straightforward," Maya sighed deeply. "Only two exits exist, and they can only accommodate one individual or maybe a pair of shapeshifters at a time. So, two Knights should suffice. And who else could I have called upon? Halley? He's efficient when there's time to strategize but falters when quick decisions are essential. Crixus? Absolutely not! That left only you. But even if all options were on the table, I'd still want you by my side over anyone else," she confessed softly, turning away. Her demeanor then shifted, becoming more lively. "Regarding the idea of amassing a team of Knights to cordon off the area... Master Zanh Kiem often mentions a certain 'nuance.'" I felt a hint of unease at her tone. "The versions proposed by local investigators don't sit well with Nein. He deems them too contrived. He believes that such a successful attack could only have been orchestrated with an insider's assistance."

"But isn't the technical staff essentially 'inside'?" I asked.

"No, the technicians didn't have access to certain rooms at all. We even cleaned those rooms ourselves. No outsiders were permitted. It's simply not feasible," Maya responded.

"So only BKDW members were allowed?" I felt uneasy at the thought.

"Not exclusively. But those who were allowed into the restricted area are entirely trustworthy."

"Entirely?"

"People like Mr. Rock and Hyungang Tu Chong, for instance," Maya elaborated. "Additionally, I've observed some of the Knights lately avoiding unsheathing their weapons, possibly to conceal rust." She made a dismissing gesture. "I'm not suggesting there's a deliberate betrayal within our ranks. But it's feasible that some might've been manipulated or coerced, much like the technicians were with threats to their loved ones."

"That's deeply concerning," I couldn't help but utter.

"It's purely speculative at this point," Maya quickly added. "But coming from a Gifted with investigative talent, it's an idea worth considering. Let's move; the negotiations could commence any moment. One party has already arrived."

"Just one more question."

"Go on."

"Why is it that only Crixus, Halley, and I were considered?"

"We have no other third-level Knights in the capital. Ungor has distanced himself from this investigation, and Mensk hasn't been seen in town for two days."

I understood why Maya might hesitate to involve Mensk, the leader of the Masks. But the importance of the third level? An insight began to form.

It seemed the goal was to apprehend members of Eshin alive. Therefore, involving raigs skilled in the "Shock Sword" technique would be preferable. This capability is typically given by the Break at the third level. It's rare, like in my case, to attain the "Shock" at the second level. Maya wouldn't waste time asking each Break Knight about their specific abilities. She probably assumes I'm third-level due to my larger prana reserve. Moreover, she has seen firsthand the aftermath of my using the shock ability. I believe she genuinely prefers my company over others in such situations. Yet, her reasons for such trust remain elusive to me. Multiple theories come to mind, but I'm uncertain about their validity or interplay.

"Got it," I acknowledged, nodding. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Initially, I wanted you to meet the task force and hand you a walkie-talkie," Maya replied.

"Introductions might not be feasible," I countered, shaking my head. "I'm not in disguise." I further clarified, "My suit's being cleaned; it's in the dryer. I don't have an extra."

"That complicates things," Maya mused momentarily before deciding, "We'll improvise then. Let's move."

With that, Maya slipped into the Sliding, and I was right on her heels.

I was familiar with the cargo port, but it was vast, spanning several square kilometers. With its numerous buildings, container areas, machinery, terminals, and more, my knowledge had gaps. I had never really focused on the area Maya now led me to. It was typically crowded, making it unsuitable for my training sessions.

"We're heading there," Maya directed, pointing towards a parking area for heavy-duty trucks situated near the port's southern entrance.

The vast lot, designed to accommodate at least fifty trucks, was almost deserted. Only nine trucks, as if embarrassed by the company of their fellows, settled as far as possible from each other, were awaiting loading clearance.

Drawing closer to one of these trucks with a standard ocean container loaded atop, without leaving the Break. "The task force is inside," she informed before seeping through the metal.

To the casual observer, it appeared to be a regular forty-foot container, indistinguishable from the numerous others populating the port. Its markings and labels bore the logos of common and recognizable shipping companies.

I circled the truck, initially finding nothing amiss. Everything seemed ordinary — the truck, its appearance, even the driver in his slightly worn-out jumpsuit, nonchalantly eating inside the cab. He seemed so commonplace that no suspicions were raised. However, on closer inspection and knowing what to look for, certain subtle details began to emerge.

After my second lap around the container, I took a deep breath and stepped through its metallic exterior. The inside walls were lined with a thick ribbed rubber for soundproofing. It was effective; I hadn't heard a sound from the outside, though the inside buzzed with activity. Apart from Maya, there were six other people in this makeshift command center. Four worked diligently on video and audio surveillance equipment. The remaining two stood out, their expensive suits suggesting higher rank.

Maya, no longer in the Break, approached one of the "superiors":

"Captain Shuragi, could you gift me a walkie-talkie?"

"Don't you already possess one, milady?" The slight, wiry Asian man with a scar above his left eyebrow inquired, genuinely puzzled.

"Shuragi!" The other superior, a slender shapeshifter, chided him. The shapeshifter's attire resembled that of the raigs' curator. "Just hand the lady a radio!"

"Understood!" Captain Shuragi complied immediately. He bent over to retrieve a walkie-talkie from one of the many metal boxes. After switching it on, he expertly adjusted its settings, checked its decoder, and once satisfied, presented it to Maya. "Here you go, milady."

"Captain Shuragi," sighing, the girl closed her eyes for a moment, and then, trying to speak as calmly as possible, she continued, "Is this a gift?"

The captain's brow furrowed, clearly unfamiliar with the specifics regarding Break Knights and their ability to bring items into the Projection. Maya's insistence on the item being a gift puzzled him.

"Just gift the walkie-talkie to the lady!" The shapeshifter snapped. "Bill the equipment to my account."

"Of course, Master Alir." Relieved, Shuragi formally offered the device. "Milady, please accept this as a gift."

Maya secured the walkie-talkie to her belt alongside an identical unit.

"Lady Maya," the shapeshifter, apparently the curator from the House on the Hill, addressed her with a nod. "I gather you've brought backup?"

"Yes," was Maya's succinct reply, though she added, "Master Maestro will be assisting us. He's nearby, in the Break."

The revelation sent a palpable tension through the makeshift headquarters. I couldn't blame them; the thought of an unseen presence observing you unknowingly can be unsettling. Break Knights might be a known entity in this world, but the reaction of these individuals was entirely relatable.

"Sir Maestro," Mr. Alir addressed the empty space, "would you mind making your presence known?"

"He cannot," Maya interjected on my behalf. "Master is without a disguise, and his public appearance would be inadvisable. I'll brief him in detail personally."

"Very well," Mr. Alir conceded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He locked eyes with Maya. "We anticipate an attack from Eshin at the negotiation site. And, given what I know of the criminal underworld, I must caution you…" He paused, searching for the right words. "An attack is imminent, and there will be conflict — a show of force meant to terrify. An intense, bloody reprisal for our attempt to purge the capital of its vermin. I recognize the prowess of the Break Knights — you all have the capacity to avert such violence by neutralizing threats. However, for our operation to succeed, the attack must happen and must be successful. Our primary objective isn't to capture Eshin's group, but to tail them upon their retreat — to their headquarters or leaders. This means you must not intervene, even if lives are lost. You'll need to exercise restraint. As Rock has informed me, it might be challenging for you to merely stand by as others are slain. Thus, I strongly advise that you maintain a distance from the negotiation site and focus on potential exit routes. No matter the circumstances or the body count, you must not engage! Your mission is surveillance. Nothing more. Moreover, I can attest that there are no innocents attending this meeting. Each participant is a hardened criminal, many with bloodstained histories. If you wish, I can provide access to their dossiers for your review. Not immediately, but after the operation, at your convenience."

"We'll manage," Maya replied, her face slightly pale, speaking for both of us. "If it's necessary to track down the real murderers of Amanda, Kraas, Thomas, and Andre. And if the city can be rid of a dozen inveterate scum, then from my point of view, it's even better."

I appreciated Maya's pragmatic approach. However, I wasn't sure how "Purity" would respond to the unfolding situation. For the moment, the snow-white blade remained silent and passive, but that could change in an instant. Even though I yearned to witness Eshin's assault up close, from the front lines, it was wiser to heed the curator's advice and remain distanced. Otherwise, the wakizashi might compel me into a situation that jeopardizes the entire operation. I understood that solid leads on this secretive rat clan were hard to come by. We had to maximize this rare opportunity, for there was no telling when we'd get another lead. So, I tucked away my curiosity for the time being.

"Your confidence, Lady, is reassuring," Mr. Alir commented in response to Maya's statement. "While we do have a limited window, I'd like to reiterate some specifics. We'll be sealing off the primary routes, sparing only those two undisclosed exits which we would've remained ignorant of if not for you, Lady Maya. The cat negotiators will convene in the under-construction new dockers' union building. Officially, the construction is still ongoing, but utilities and the ground floor are nearly finalized." The curator engaged his laptop, pulling up a building blueprint on the screen. "Based on our intelligence, the main event is slated for here." Mr. Alir pinpointed a modest hall on the layout. "Their security has covered all the approaches to this spot." The curator highlighted the patrol paths of the trash clan. "There's a combined force of over thirty from both factions. For Eshin to penetrate such a barrier and target the negotiators, it'd equate to launching a mini-war. However, Nein, the Third Palm's investigator, is adamant that the assault is imminent. He has yet to be wrong in his deductions." The curator of the underworld didn't seem thrilled about liaising this closely with the clergy, but he recognized the invaluable input provided by the monastery's sensums. "The special task force, which will be summoned by 'bystanders,' remains oblivious to the pending operation. Regrettably, we can't ensure total confidentiality from their side. Given Eshin's slyness and propensity for treachery, we're limiting the number privy to the real terrorist attack investigation. Any hint of a leak - and the rats will hide in such a hole, from which we will never smoke them out. And we definitely do not need such an outcome." Mr. Alir pondered, stroking his chin, then settled his gaze on Maya. "Post the task force's arrival, my team will blockade the major escape routes. The under-construction edifice offers myriad such routes as it seems it was initially envisioned as a mob headquarters. If anyone exploits them, they're our responsibility. You, Break Knights, will cover those overlooked exits. These are ancient conduits, absent from any official port blueprints. Yet, after inspecting an exhaustive map, Maker Zanh Kiem confidently identified these two sectors. Upon verification, Lady Maya discovered two uncharted escape routes. Lastly, I cannot stress enough the importance of resorting to violence only if absolutely necessary! No killing! If there's a high risk of losing a target, incapacitate them and alert us. Remember, your primary objective is tracking..."

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The curator was interrupted mid-sentence as one of the surveillance operators abruptly raised his hand, announcing, "The other party has arrived!"

Mr. Alir tensed, resembling a lynx poised for a leap. "Let's begin! Lady Maya, Sir Maestro, assume your positions."

"Understood!" Maya replied crisply, immediately shifting to the Break.

Ra-a-a-a-i-i-i-ig!!!

"Master," Maya turned to me, "we must move quickly. I'll guide you there."

"I'm prepared."

Leveraging our Projection abilities, we phased through the container's thin walls, emerging into the parking lot.

"The exits pinpointed by Zanh Kiem are located at disparate points," Maya noted. After relaying this, she entered Sliding, and I promptly kept pace with her. "I'll lead you to both."

While the port's vastness might deter an average individual from traversing it within a day, requiring over an hour of brisk walking to merely cross, for raigs like us, such expanses are spanned in mere seconds. Initially, Maya steered southwest. In Sliding, we vaulted over a towering metal barrier, exiting the port premises.

The urban sprawl terminated here, giving way to a coastal park zone – a pristine forested enclave devoid of trails or walkways, often dubbed the "Green Lungs of Wilflaes" by municipal officials.

Maya's movements betrayed her unfamiliarity with the locale; on a few occasions, she hesitated as if recollecting her bearings. Nevertheless, despite these brief bouts of uncertainty, we reached our destination in mere minutes from departing the command center – a gentle hill's base, adjacent to a swift, narrow brook.

"First spot," Maya gestured towards an ancient sewer outlet, sealed with a corroded grate. "Historically, in the mid-20th century, this was the conduit for the port's waste. For the past forty years, it's remained sealed, superseded by modern waste treatment infrastructure. I've verified that this exit connects to the negotiation venue via long-forgotten channels."

Drawing nearer, I scrutinized the drain tunnel more intently. Stone masonry, a vaulted archway – such architectural techniques were hallmark to the early 20th century. A shorter individual could navigate this tunnel with just a slight duck of their head. Despite its age, the rust-laden bars guarding the entrance remained remarkably sturdy. It's a testament to the craftsmanship of yesteryears, intended to endure for generations. The colossal barn lock, exhibiting a reddish hue, appeared as if it hadn't been disturbed for decades. Should anyone opt for this exit, they'd undoubtedly struggle without metallic-cutting equipment.

"It seems entirely isolated," Maya observed with a hint of curiosity as I inspected the area. "The grate could even be detonated. If the explosion is minimal, it would go unnoticed. The closest roadway is roughly four kilometers straight through the woods. It's a perfect spot for a discreet escape."

"I concur," I responded. "If your assumption is correct and this isn't a frequented spot, then an explosion is plausible. Though, there are subtler methods available."

"Shall we proceed to the second exit?" Maya's urgency was palpable. Although all appeared calm, her concerns were warranted; Eshin's assault could commence at any given moment.

"Lead on."

We entered Sliding again, but this time Maya directed us towards the opposite end of the cargo port, near the administrative center housing the main office building and various firms. In stark contrast to the isolated forest park zone, this area was bustling: a melange of clerks, officials, dockers, loaders, drivers, and a myriad of customers. The environment hummed with the ceaseless cadence of work.

Maya navigated flawlessly on this occasion, effortlessly phasing through walls, floors, and ceilings. Observing her, I discerned that she struggled more than I did when passing through solid objects. Her journey through matter was markedly more strenuous and protracted compared to mine. Nevertheless, we soon found ourselves in the basement of the port's primary administrative edifice.

A dimly lit service corridor stretched before us, the sporadic bulbs doing little to dispel the gloom. Infrequent visits from maintenance personnel seemed the norm here, given the dense layer of dust covering the switchboards.

"The second exit lies here," Maya indicated, halting before a modest metallic door adorned with an aged, yellowing poster bearing a rather risqué image. "Should anyone utilize this route, they'll likely ascend and attempt to blend into the throngs above."

"It's a sound assumption," I conceded, agreeing with her logic.

"We're pressed for time. Things could escalate any moment," Maya remarked, her tone betraying a hint of embarrassment over her sense of urgency. "I need to provide you with a walkie-talkie. It's set to the frequency of our operational headquarters. We also need to determine which of us will monitor which exit."

After pondering briefly, I replied, "I'd prefer the forest exit." Unsure of my own reasoning, I added, "My secondary blade possesses certain unique qualities; an isolated area would be more suitable."

Given the unpredictability of the situation, should the fleeing adversaries take hostages, I was certain "Purity" would compel me to intervene, jeopardizing the primary mission objective. While the odds of such an eventuality were slim, it remained plausible, and prudence dictated preparation.

"Alright," Maya responded, her intrigue about the properties I'd mentioned evident. Yet, she restrained her burgeoning questions. Discussions surrounding spiritual blades weren't commonplace in our circles. "I'll leave the walkie-talkie for you here."

With that, she left the Break.

Ra-a-a-a-i-i-i-ig!!!

Upon rematerializing, she unhooked a walkie-talkie from her belt, set it on the ground, and swiftly returned to the Projection state.

Ra-a-a-a-i-i-i-ig!!!

"I recall you're not in disguise. I'll be back in a few moments after heading upstairs. Ah, before I forget, consider this walkie-talkie a gift, Master Maestro."

Having spoken, she advanced down the corridor and phased through the wall, leaving me in solitude. Despite her departure, I remained in the Break a little longer. My incessant paranoia gripped me. It wasn't that I distrusted Maya, but considering our mission, someone else in the know might have placed hidden surveillance here. I meticulously inspected the corridor. Much to my relief, it was devoid of any devices, suggesting that the duke's men might genuinely be prepared for a straightforward game with us raigs. I momentarily emerged from the Break and retrieved the radio. Since this is an official gift, the Break posed no objections.

My inspection for potential cameras seemingly consumed the majority of the two minutes I had allocated, for as soon as I shifted into Projection, Maya's silhouette emerged from the wall.

"Are you prepared, Maestro?" Maya inquired, a hint of apprehension evident in her demeanor.

"Yes, I'm set."

"I almost forgot!" Maya exclaimed, smacking her forehead in realization. "The shocking sword affects shapeshifters differently than ordinary humans. While it immobilizes a regular individual, akin to stasis, shapeshifters react as if jolted by a potent electrical charge. They might experience muscular spasms and recover rapidly from the strike – in mere minutes."

"That's valuable intel. I'll bear it in mind," I acknowledged, understanding the significance of her insight.

"In that case..."

"I'll head out and assume my position," I interjected with a reassuring nod, and phased through the wall.

I wanted to support Maya and cheer her up, but time was of the essence, and I needed to make haste. Once outside, I immediately ramped up my speed, reaching the familiar hillside in a blink.

Upon arrival, I took a moment to survey the vicinity with renewed diligence. Venturing fifty meters into the tunnel for a closer inspection and finding nothing of concern, I retreated to the exit point.

Contemplating my next move, I ascended the tallest tree. From its peak, I had an unobstructed view of the arched entrance and its grid. I'd hoped to glimpse the dockers' union building from this vantage point, but my aspirations were dashed as warehouses obstructed my line of sight.

Having tried out multiple vantage points, I found none where I could simultaneously observe both the sewer exit and the building that piqued my interest. Thus, I returned to the pinnacle of the familiar tree. Settling comfortably on a slender branch, I began my vigil.

Time passed slowly, with seconds feeling like minutes that seemed to stretch on indefinitely. After five minutes, restlessness set in. By the ten-minute mark, doubts began to plague me. Perhaps the investigators and Nein were off the mark, and Eshin had no intentions of carrying out any aggressive acts. However, dealings between criminal factions are seldom brief. They can often extend late into the night. The attack on the negotiators needn't happen immediately upon both parties converging. Holding onto this line of reasoning, I stayed put. Otherwise, I might've been tempted to exit the Projection and seek clarity over the radio. Such a move would've meant pausing my observation, potentially compromising our mission. If things truly went awry, Maya would notify me. Until then, patience was paramount. Impulsiveness might befit a hot-headed youth, but not me. Especially given the weight of our objective, where my conduct could spell the success or failure of the operation — the sole lead we possessed on Eshin's whereabouts.

As more minutes ticked by, my prana dwindled. My reservoir was still robust, but I couldn't help but wonder about Maya's state. After visiting her father and evidently spending significant time in the Break, would she sustain if this dragged on?

I was thankful for my Projection having a watch. Subjectively, it felt as though I'd been waiting for an eternity. Yet, it showed merely fifteen minutes had lapsed since I'd positioned myself atop the tree.

The sudden, sharp cracks of distant gunfire jolted me. Had I not been in the Break, I would've surely lost my perch. What began as isolated shots swiftly morphed into the rapid chatter of automatic fire. Soon after, the blasts of grenades or other explosives resounded. For a good five minutes, the cacophony escalated, punctuated by the wails of police sirens. The distinct booms of special forces' shotguns and the resonating cracks of sniper rifles joined the symphony. The unseen conflict seemed to have entered a positional phase. Somewhere out there, I was certain that wounded and dying were crying out in pain somewhere out there, and it was fortunate that I didn't hear it. Perhaps this was the reason why "Purity" remained silent. The snow-white blade remained calm, not burning my hand and pushing me to leap into action or rescue someone.

The wail of police sirens grew louder, signaling that almost every patrol car in the vicinity had been dispatched to the scene of the gunfight. The gunfire intensified; it seemed that Mr. Alir's predictions were spot on, as the situation devolved into a brutal urban confrontation. I'd witnessed such conflicts before, and I was somewhat relieved to be distant from the immediate chaos. A brief urge to get closer and observe quickly vanished. I had no stomach for watching the carnage unfold.

Barely ten minutes had elapsed from the onset of the firefight when, to my surprise, a figure emerged from the dark recesses of the sewer. Upon reaching the bars, the individual reached through to insert a key into the aged lock. He appeared average: garbed in the uniform of the port's technical service, of medium height and build, and looking to be around thirty. Thanks to my sensum spark, I discerned that I was observing a shapeshifter.

After struggling with the key, the shapeshifter muttered a curse under his breath. Keeping his cool, he retrieved a syringe from his bag and injected its contents into the keyhole. After a brief wait, the lock yielded, and he made his way through the barred entrance. After ensuring it was securely shut, he carefully wiped away any evidence of his presence. Pausing momentarily to listen to the distant sounds of battle from the port, he seemed to acknowledge some internal thought. Then, with a shrug, he adjusted his bag and ambled alongside the stream towards the ocean.

To a casual observer, he might've appeared as just another individual strolling through the woods. However, I noticed subtle signs — the occasional twitch of his nose, the frequent scanning of his surroundings — that betrayed his vigilance. After covering a few hundred meters at a relaxed pace, he gradually sped up and darted toward the coastline. I had to give chase. The dense foliage and trees allowed me to employ my abilities, leaping from treetop to treetop without touching the ground.

In a matter of minutes, the shapeshifter emerged onto a rocky stretch of the ocean shore. After a swift survey of the landscape and a moment of listening, he raced along the edge of the surf. The forest didn't extend to the beach, so I had to descend and continue my pursuit at ground level.

He didn't cover much distance — less than a kilometer — before arriving at an odd stack of stones, seemingly placed deliberately. Discarding his bag, he began unearthing the pile. What he retrieved was cause for alarm: a full scuba gear set, including a wetsuit, mask, fins, and air tanks. Damn! If he submerges, I won't be able to track him. Whoever orchestrated this escape on the side of the rats had seemingly anticipated raigs' surveillance, devising a masterful counter-strategy. I couldn't help but begrudgingly admire such a worthy adversary.

But what's my next move? Do I let him don the wetsuit and then attempt to track him along the coast? What if a diver propulsion vehicle awaits him beneath the waves, and he surfaces miles away? That won't do. The risk of him slipping away is too high. It seems the backup plan is the way to go.

"Word" slides from its sheath.

Should I strike or hold back?

With this internal debate, I close in on the shapeshifter, who is already shedding his clothes.

Activating "Shock."

I'm a mere ten paces from the shapeshifter when he abruptly stiffens, his muscles coiling as he whirls around as if he's sensed a presence. I halt, taken aback. Impossible. No one, save for high-ranked sensums, can detect a raig in the Break. He's probably just on edge.

I advance another step, and the shapeshifter's expression shifts dramatically, from indifference to that of a waxen effigy. In an instant, he bites down hard.

Siding!

Deploying "Shock Sword"!

Even though my response was nearly instantaneous, I was a fraction too late. "Word" met its mark on an already doomed foe.

The telltale foam at the shapeshifter's mouth...

In a matter of ten seconds, it's over: a semi-clothed body lies beside me on the pebbled shore.

Why the suicide? Could he possibly have seen me?