Central Region, Dratol

  Perfect blue skies drifted over Dratol’s sprawling cities, a sea of fluffy white clouds suspended above the hum of civilization. Dozens of flying vessels descended toward the city’s many ports. From one of them, Adam, his features altered, disembarked with the crowd.

  It’s good to be back. I’ve missed this place.

  He didn’t linger. Moving with the flow of passengers, he entered a towering construct that served as an elevator and slipped into a less crowded chamber. The platform lurched and began its slow, mechanical descent.

  Seven days since the Valar incident… I wonder how much has changed in Targarth.

  Lost in thought, he caught fragments of conversation from two sharply dressed men beside him.

  “…did you hear? The Knights of Bordon fought the Undertakers.”

  “You’re joking. That can’t be true, it’s got to be a rumor.”

  “I heard it from a reliable source. They clashed in Siena. The knights were annihilated—”

  “Isn’t that terrible news? The Undertakers work for the Widow, don’t they?”

  “Exactly. More Omen Awakened are starting to move. Something big is coming. Did you hear about the…?”

  Adam’s gaze drifted to them briefly.

  The Knights of Bordon? Aren’t they one of the top ten guilds in Outworld?

  During his time with Erik Gilmore, he’d learned the hierarchy of the powerful guilds. Bordon was among the elite; famous, wealthy, and packed with master swordsmen and high-ranking healers. Their headquarters were in Cemil, and they didn’t keep a branch in Dratol.

  Come to think of it, none of the major guilds do. Varidan’s influence runs that deep here.

  The lift continued its descent while he quietly listened, though the men soon drifted to safer topics.

  I need to find out who the Widow and the Undertakers are. Anyone capable of wiping out an elite group like that isn’t to be underestimated.

  He kept his expression neutral and listened without appearing to.

  Minutes later, Adam sat inside the padded cabin of a horse-drawn carriage, a faint smile touching his lips as he watched the city pass by through the window. Sleek carriages rolled down the tarred roads; structures of glass and steel reached into the sky; holographic projections shimmered at every corner. A refreshing, yet faintly sordid, aroma hung in the air.

  This place really does remind me of Times Square… only bigger, brighter, and even more crowded.

  A soft knock sounded from the driver’s side of the cabin. Adam glanced toward the opposite seat.

  “Sir, would you like to stop anywhere along the way?”

  “No,” Adam replied calmly. “Head south. And don’t rush—I’d like to rest.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  Southern Region, Dratol

  Adam rested against the window frame, watching the rustic scenery blur by as the carriage bounced along the uneven road.

  The road’s gotten rougher since we entered the south. Good thing the tavern isn’t far now.

  A serene lake came into view, its surface glimmering beneath the late-day sun. Adam’s lips curled faintly.

  To think I was only D-rank a few days ago…

  He tightened his fists.

  With enough time, even S-rank won’t be out of reach. And when that day comes, I’ll take my revenge—no matter what.

  A knock came again.

  “Sir,” the driver called, uncertain, “are you sure we’re headed the right way?”

  “You’re taking me to Bricteva’s Tavern, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re on the right path,” Adam said. “Pick up the pace—we should be arriving soon.”

  “Understood.”

  The carriage sped up. Despite the rougher terrain, the padded seats softened the worst of it. Minutes later, the carriage slowed, then rolled to a full stop.

  “Sir, we’ve arrived,” the driver announced.

  Adam stepped out and spotted two familiar figures.

  Look at these two. Have they really been drinking all day?

  Wallace and Igor stood near a pair of wooden chairs on the tavern’s porch, empty bottles scattered at their feet.

  Adam tossed the driver a small sack. Coins clinked loudly inside.

  “Thank you, sir!” The man beamed and drove off.

  Adam approached the porch.

  “Umm… can we help you?” Igor asked first.

  Adam narrowed his eyes slightly. Pretending to be drunk, is he? The man’s gaze was too sharp, too focused.

  Wallace, however, could barely remain upright.

  “Let’s go inside,” Adam said lightly. “We have much to discuss, Erik.”

  Igor’s demeanor shifted instantly. His body stiffened; his eyes bulged, turning bloodshot.

  “Who are you?” he demanded. “I’ll only ask once.”

  [Potential Sources of Danger detected!]

  Adam chuckled. “Relax. I was just having a bit of fun.”

  His features began to twist and reshape.

  Wallace toppled backward, trembling. Igor’s expression tightened, though surprise flickered beneath his composure.

  “There,” Adam said with a smile, reverting to his true face. “Recognize me now?”

  “B-boss?” Wallace slurred, rubbing his eyes as though uncertain whether he was hallucinating.

  Igor’s tension melted into an impressed grin. “What a fascinating Blessing. Altering face, voice, physique, even the smallest details. Truly remarkable.”

  “Come on, Erik,” Adam said. “We’ve got much to discuss.”

  He walked past him into the tavern.

  A few minutes later, Adam and Igor sat across from each other in a dimly lit room lined with sealed wooden barrels.

  “How secure is this room?” Adam asked, his gaze sweeping the shadows.

  “Apart from me, Bricteva—and now you—no one knows about this place,” Igor assured him with a small smile. “Feel free to say whatever you want.”

  Adam nodded and finally met his eyes. “This is still part of the tavern?”

  “Yes and no,” Igor replied, reclining in his chair. “It’s complicated. If you want the full story—”

  “No need.” Adam waved him off. “I was only curious.” He paused, then asked, “Where’s Gilmore? Shouldn’t she be here?”

  “I apologize on her behalf. She went to meet our Master. She’ll return later today.”

  “Oh?” Adam muttered, leaving it at that.

  Adelaide came to Dratol? For what?

  He tapped a finger against the table. “Where are they meeting?”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t say,” Igor replied firmly. “I hope you understand.”

  “Fine. I was only asking.” Adam set his palms flat on the table. “I need you to sell some items for me. Can you handle that?”

  “Of course. We have stores in and outside Dratol,” Igor said, confidently. “What are you selling?”

  Adam tapped the wood once. A small sack materialized before them.

  Igor froze, his gaze flicking between Adam and the bag.

  “You’ll need someone skilled in spatial manipulation to extract everything,” Adam said calmly. “The sack itself isn’t for sale. Return it along with the proceeds.”

  Igor took it gingerly. “It’s so light,” he murmured.

  “Moving on.” Adam drew his attention back. “I need information.”

  “I’m at your disposal.” Igor grinned. “What do you want to know?”

  Adam straightened. “Who is the Widow, and what’s her relationship with the Undertakers?”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Igor’s smile flickered, just for a breath. He lowered his head and whispered something Adam couldn’t catch.

  Adam waited in silence.

  Finally, Igor exhaled and looked up. “To be frank, little is known about the two. I can start with what is considered general knowledge.”

  “Please.”

  “The Widow is regarded as one of the most infamous Omen Awakened—not because of violence alone but because anyone who sees her face either dies… or forgets they ever met her.”

  Adam’s brow arched. “You mean she kills some and makes others forget?”

  “She kills the unlucky ones. The others… no one knows how the memories vanish.”

  “How can she be so infamous if no one remembers anything? Isn’t that contradictory?”

  Igor chuckled faintly. “I didn’t say no one knows anything. What’s known came from an Awakened who survived an encounter with her.”

  Adam leaned forward. “How?”

  “There are many rumors, but it’s widely accepted that his Blessing perfectly imitates true death,” Igor explained. “He fooled her.”

  “So he leaked her identity to his guild—and to the world.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Igor’s expression turned wry. Adam already knew the answer. “He lost every memory of the encounter within twenty-four hours of reporting it,” Igor said softly. “He died the day after.”

  Adam didn’t speak. Expected, but disturbing nonetheless.

  Igor snapped his fingers. A poster appeared between them. “This is the only known image of the Widow. Mostly useless, since anyone who sees the real thing dies or forgets.”

  He slid it across the table.

  Adam picked it up casually—then froze.

  What…?

  His breath hitched. The paper trembled in his grip as he stared at the illustrated face.

  “Do you recognize her?” Igor asked.

  Adam didn’t answer. How is this possible? Why her?

  He forced a breath, set the poster down carefully, then looked Igor dead in the eye. “Tell me everything else.”

  “I’ll share what the public doesn’t know,” Igor said, leaning in. “The Widow is a descendant of one of Vohmir’s most powerful families—the Fitzgeralds.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed.

  “Judging by your reaction,” Igor continued, “you’ve met her twin sister at Varidan Academy, yes?”

  “Is this common knowledge among the staff?” Adam asked back.

  Igor shook his head. “Only a few high-ranking elders at Varidan Towers know. No one else.”

  Adam’s jaw tightened. How does he know something that restricted?

  The carefree man in front of him suddenly felt a lot more dangerous.

  “Shall I continue with the Undertakers?” Igor asked.

  Adam nodded once.

  “The Undertakers are a legion of Omen Awakened—created, it seems, to serve the Widow’s interests.”

  “Created by whom? The Widow?”

  Igor shook his head. “I have no idea. Until recently, she’d never acknowledged them at all. Something changed.”

  “And their purpose?”

  “It’s believed they eliminate anything that threatens her existence.”

  “Are they affected by her memory-erasing ability?”

  “Unknown.”

  Adam drummed a finger against the table. “Then why didn’t they wipe out the guild of the Awakened who leaked her identity?”

  Igor gave a helpless smile. “It’s not that they didn’t try. It’s that it would be impossible.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed. “The Awakened was a Knight of Bordon?”

  Igor stroked his thin goatee and nodded. “The Widow may be powerful, but even she and the Undertakers can’t wage war on a true elite guild. Their clashes have escalated far beyond skirmishes. These days, whenever they meet…” He exhaled. “Entire regions get wiped out. Most people in Dratol have no idea.”

  Adam sat back, the poster still lying between them, its implications weighing heavily in the dim room.

  The silence festered for minutes before Igor spoke again. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

  Adam shook his head. “None for now. But you should probably invest in land and property in Targarth before it becomes impossible.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” Igor smiled. “We already have a mechanism in place. I’m a businessman, after all. Opportunities like this don’t come often.”

  Adam rose, and Igor followed a step behind. Without another word, Adam exited the room, ascending the winding staircase until the deafening noise of the main hall washed over them.

  Adam stepped back into the tavern, his appearance subtly altered by Manipulator. His eyes swept over the lively patrons until they landed on Wallace—laughing, drunk, and thoroughly surrounded.

  “…that’s when I kicked the old bastard in the nuts,” Wallace boomed, raising a mug of ale. “How dare he make a move on my girl—”

  Laughter erupted around him.

  “But Wallace, didn’t you say she left you for someone else a month later?” someone chimed in.

  Wallace scowled. “Hey. You promised not to say that!”

  Another burst of laughter shook the tavern.

  Adam approached in silent, measured steps. Like a ghost, he appeared behind Wallace without alerting a single person.

  “Captain. You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

  Wallace froze, snapping his head toward the voice.

  He opened his mouth, but Adam cut him off. “Follow me. I need to ask you something.”

  Without waiting, Adam turned toward the exit. I need to know if I’m the only one who remembers what happened that day.

  He didn’t slow even after leaving the tavern. The boisterous noise faded, replaced by a quiet, rustic stillness.

  “Um… Boss, where exactly are we going?” Wallace asked nervously.

  Adam didn’t respond, walking until they reached the lake’s tranquil bank. Only then did he stop.

  System, activate Illusion Inducement.

  He ignored the notification. Instead, he smiled at the anxious man. “You seem to have adjusted well to life in Dratol. Erik Gilmore isn’t giving you a hard time, are they?”

  “N-not at all, Boss.” Wallace forced a chuckle. “How have you been?”

  “Great,” Adam said softly. “Thanks for asking.”

  An uneasy silence settled.

  “What are we doing out here, though?”

  “Do you remember Dominic from the flying ship?” Adam asked.

  Wallace frowned. “Dominic…?” His eyes widened. “Oh! That prick. The one who pissed you off on our way here?”

  “So you remember him. Good.” Adam stepped closer. “What about the woman we met before him?”

  Wallace rubbed the underside of his lip, confused.

  “Why are you quiet? Do you remember her or not?”

  “I-I don’t know which lady you mean, Boss. Maybe she showed up while I was sleeping—”

  “No.” Adam’s voice sharpened. “You met her. The one who asked if I was a Varidan student. Ring any bells?”

  Wallace avoided his gaze.

  Adam saw it instantly. He doesn’t remember… She’s the Widow.

  He turned away, recalling the woman’s parting words.

  Why do I always attract weirdos and nutjobs?

  He exhaled slowly, staring at the streaks of reddish twilight overhead.

  “Captain, you can go back. I want to be alone for a while.”

  “O-Okay, Boss.”

  Wallace retreated, his footsteps fading into the distance. Adam didn’t turn.

  Minutes blurred into hours. Night settled over Dratol, and Adam sat by the lakeshore, shoulders loosening as he breathed out.

  It’s quiet. The air doesn’t smell like crap, either. Not bad.

  Maybe I should consider settling here instead…

  He chuckled. Who am I kidding? I’d be bored of this place within a month.

  He stood, stretched, and slipped his boots back on before heading toward the tavern. The streets were dim, lit only by gas lamps and the silver wash of moonlight. A few wandering gazes drifted his way, but none lingered.

  Five hundred feet from the tavern, he spotted a group of five huddling in a corner. He recognized one of them instantly.

  The coachman from earlier.

  Adam paused. What’s he doing here?

  The men wore mostly black, caps pulled low to obscure their faces. They spoke in hushed tones; the coachman kept glancing toward Bricteva’s tavern.

  Adam smiled faintly. Shouldn’t have tipped him extra.

  He resumed walking. Should I eliminate them myself… or let Erik Gilmore handle it?

  With each step, the tavern’s lively chorus grew louder: laughter, shouts, and drunken songs.

  Then the system flared.

  [Potential Sources of Danger Detected!]

  Adam pushed the door open. The tavern warped around him. The cheerful noise vanished like smoke. Six cloaked figures stared at him. At the far end, Bricteva and Igor stood with bloodshot eyes.

  “Oh? You’re back,” Adam muttered, letting his face return to normal. “But what’s all this?”

  Igor’s smile returned. “Please don’t misunderstand. We smelled some rats and thought you might be one of them.”

  “Let’s talk downstairs,” Bricteva said. “I have something to give you.”

  “Sure. But where’s Captain Wallace?”

  “Safe,” Igor assured. “Don’t worry.”

  He gestured toward the open doorway. “After you.”

  Adam walked past the silent men and headed downstairs into the dim room filled with even more crates than before.

  What are they storing down here?

  Bricteva sat across from him, holding a blue envelope and a gray transmission crystal.

  “So?” Adam finally asked.

  Bricteva cleared her throat softly. “Master sends her regards,” she said, sliding the envelope and crystal across the table. “She instructed me to hand these over to you.”

  She stood at once. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she slipped out of the hidden room.

  Adam watched the door close before shifting his gaze to the items. Why do I feel like this is Vicar’s handiwork…

  He picked up the envelope and unfolded the letter inside.

  Adam,

  If you’re reading this, it means you haven’t died yet. Congratulations.

  Now that the greetings are out of the way: contact me once you’ve fully merged both halves of your soul.

  This letter will explode when the paper turns red.

  Adam flicked the letter aside before the paper had fully changed color.

  I knew it—only that lunatic would send something like this.

  His attention drifted to the transmission crystal.

  I’ve come too far to turn back now.

  He grabbed it without hesitation. The crystal darkened instantly.

  A pulse of radiant silver washed across the room, and then a gentle voice followed.

  “It has been a while, Adam.”

  Adam straightened. “Adelaide? Is that really you?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my voice already.” She laughed softly. “I’ve missed you. How’s Dratol treating you?”

  “I’m alive. That’s good enough for me,” Adam replied with a dry smile.

  “I’m glad the part of you that jokes about everything is still intact,” she teased. “Master will join the call shortly. Tell me—how’s life at Varidan Academy?”

  “So, that’s basically everything,” Adam muttered with a faint smile.

  “I see. You truly haven’t changed. Try making friends, Adam. That’s what young people do,” Adelaide advised gently.

  Adam only smiled in response.

  “That reminds me… they said you have no interest in controlling the guild. Why is that?” she asked.

  “It’s too much work,” Adam said casually. “It’s better they run things the way they always have. I won’t meddle unless I need their resources or services.”

  “Master was right,” Adelaide giggled. “He said that’s exactly what you’d do.”

  Adam frowned. Though he would never admit it, Vicar was likely the only person who understood him completely.

  “But you should also strive to—” she paused abruptly. “Master is here.”

  Adam straightened instantly, every muscle going taut. He stared at the glowing crystal. No voice, only static… but he said nothing.

  “Congratulations on merging with your second soul,” Vicar’s deep voice finally echoed. “I didn’t expect you to succeed this early. Are the nightmares still troubling you?”

  “Not anymore,” Adam replied flatly.

  “Good. Now that the pleasantries are done, let’s begin.”

  A brief pause.

  “Has your rank improved?”

  “Pretending to be clueless doesn’t suit you,” Adam retorted. “You wouldn’t ask a question you don’t already know the answer to.”

  Vicar chuckled.

  “What’s your current rank?”

  “C,” Adam answered without hesitation.

  Silence followed.

  “Adam, are you sure…?” Adelaide’s voice trembled.

  Adam’s brows furrowed. What's with that reaction?

  “That changes everything,” Vicar said at last. “I’m pleasantly surprised. You’ve done exceedingly well.”

  A chill crawled down Adam’s spine. I’d rather this lunatic curse than praise me.

  “What are you hinting at?” Adam asked. “Not all of us can decipher your schemes.”

  “The recent events in Targarth have complicated matters. Do you remember our deal?”

  “Of course. That’s why I’m telling you everything. Any progress on your end?” Adam asked, expression tightening as an unpleasant memory surfaced.

  “We are working on locating Korgrath,” Vicar said.

  Adam’s fists clenched at the name, but he stayed silent.

  “As I told you in the canyon, I won’t divulge anything further until you join our organization. Your current rank is more than enough to receive missions. Complete them, and you’ll be welcomed into our fold. What say you?”

  “Keep your end of the bargain, and I’ll keep mine,” Adam replied coldly.

  “Your first mission will arrive in three months—”

  “Three months?” Adam interrupted. “Isn’t that too long? I thought it would be sooner.”

  “It would have been sooner—if Varidan wasn’t watching you so closely. In a day or two, they will summon you to recount everything that happened in Valar,” Vicar said. “You cannot accept missions while Varidan Towers is suspicious of you.”

  Adam bit his lip and stayed quiet.

  “You didn’t realize clearing dungeons two ranks above your level would draw attention?”

  Silence.

  “I don’t know what drove you to make that decision, but avoid attracting eyes from now on. Especially if you intend to join us. Is that clear?”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “Good,” Vicar grunted. “Aren’t you curious how I learned all this?”

  “Does it matter?” Adam said. “You wouldn’t tell me even if I asked.”

  A chuckle drifted through the crystal—this time, Adelaide’s.

  “Anything else?” Adam asked.

  “On that day in the canyon… do you remember anything about the incident?” Vicar asked.

  Adam sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re asking that again? I told you, I don’t remember. If you think I enjoy being in the dark about the origin of—”

  “Master left,” Adelaide cut in.

  “Son of a bitch…” Adam muttered.

  A moment of silence passed.

  “Adam,” Adelaide said softly, “unless Varidan believes you’re a threat to the academy, they won’t take extreme measures to interrogate you. Please keep the transmission crystal safe. I will contact you in ninety days. Goodbye.”

  The silver glow faded before Adam could respond.

  He stared at the inert crystal.

  I guess I’ll have to lay low for the next couple of months…

  He slipped the crystal into his inventory and left the room without another word.

  I'm going to visit my parents. Sadly, no updates until I'm back. Wishing you guys a happy new year in advance.