Leaving the suburban highway behind, a black car darted onto a country lane, crashing through a cottage settlement barrier and destroying several farm gates along its path. It continued its mad dash until it circled a deserted farmhouse and came to a halt facing a steep hill, where the road ceased to exist.

Panting heavily, the Seer pushed open the door. She tumbled out, struggling to crawl up the hill. Zanh Kiem quickly exited the vehicle to assist her.

"Hang in there," the Maker whispered.

"I'm trying," the girl echoed faintly.

"Where is Maestro?" The head of the Third Palm inquired as they ascended the modest hill that still offered a panoramic view of the surroundings.

"I... I don't know," she stammered, her voice weak. "He's nearby, but it's all so hazy..."

The Maker straightened up, scouring the landscape. But his potent abilities were eerily mute, offering no guidance. The vicinity comprised average farms and a few opulent villas. The closest one was nearly a mile away.

"Rui!" Zanh Kiem exclaimed, giving the fading girl a gentle shake. "Find him!"

"I can't..."

Mumbling those words, the Seer collapsed and began to feverishly scratch at the ground. The Maker, throughout his life, seldom faced moments of such uncertainty and helplessness. His innate talents and foresight abandoned him. He knew, with bone-chilling certainty, that if they failed to act, the world would tumble into irreversible doom.

For what felt like an eternity, but was merely twenty seconds, the Maker tried aiding the Seer. However, every effort proved futile as her condition deteriorated.

"Think! Think!" Urged the sensum, cradling his head in despair. "There must be a solution!"

"Every problem has one," a recognizable voice echoed. Emerging from a bend in the path was legate Abel de Diaz.

The inquisitor was dressed in his customary attire, but what captured attention was a massive box he carried — over two meters in length and about forty centimeters in breadth and height.

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"What? Lost without your Enlightenment?" The Steel Eradicator taunted with a smirk.

"Why are you here? Though, at this point, it hardly matters," the Maker retorted, not rising to the Dark adept's bait.

"Rui!" The legate called out to the Seer, concerned. "How do you fare?" She offered no response, save for labored breathing. "I see."

With swift motions, the Dark One set down the box and opened it. From within emerged an imposing sight — an unusually large sniper rifle equipped with a scope and bipod.

"Make her grab the weapon!" The Legate instructs the Maker.

"What is this thing?"

"Can't you see? It's a rifle converted from a cannon, twenty-three caliber. Has a lethal range of five kilometers."

"Why this?"

"Do you really need to question how I found you, how I got on a plane with this behemoth, or even where I acquired it?" The inquisitor challenges with a toothy grin.

"How you found us," Zanh Kiem muses, struggling to lift the massive weapon, "isn't of consequence. Your boarding the plane isn't a puzzle either, given your position as an inquisitor. Rui! Take the gun!" But the girl remains unresponsive. "What baffles me is your timely appearance with this very weapon. Rui! Snap out of it!"

"It's elementary. I received this box before leaving, accompanied by a farewell note from the Holy See. They strongly advised me to bring this rifle to Wilflaes. But the fact that you, boy, did not understand how I found you mean you still have much to learn."

"Rui! Grab the gun! Rui! Learn what? What do you mean?"

Getting to his feet, the legate explains, "Details. They matter the most in our line of work. I found you because I knew which vehicle your Seer would prefer."

"You knew?"

"For the love of all Saints," the inquisitor exclaims, rolling his eyes, "what exactly do they teach you in those monasteries? You, my boy, didn't even pay attention to the license plate of the sedan you stole! But let's save the details for later. Let me handle this."

The Maker steps back, allowing the Dark One to lift Rui upright. He shakes her vigorously, then delivers a few sharp slaps to bring her around. Her eyes regain their spark.

"Shoot, girl!"

With that, the legate thrusts the rifle into the Seer's grip.

"Fire!" He orders with commanding urgency.

In an instant, the previously trembling girl becomes resolute, grounding herself and deploying the bipod. She doesn't see her target visually; she senses it profoundly.

Time stands still for a heartbeat.

The gunshot resounds like thunder, overpowering every other sound. Yet, through that din, the sharp crack of the Master of Secrets' bones, shattered by the gun's fierce recoil, can be discerned. Rui collapses onto the grass, a satisfied smile on her lips as consciousness slips away.

"We need to move, now!" The legate urges, breaking into a run.

"Which way?" Zanh Kiem shouts after him.

"I swear on the Holy See, I'll beat the soul out of your instructor, boy! Blatant incompetence! Are you blind and did not see the direction of the shot? Hurry!"