Adelaide sat at the edge of a cliff, her back resting against a towering tree whose branches seemed to claw at the sky. Below, a vast crimson sea hurled itself against the cliff face in endless, thunderous waves.

  “It’s especially quiet today,” she murmured.

  The silence was punctuated by the roar of colossal tides, each impact heavier than the last. The wind carried the briny tang of salt layered with a metallic bite, while a sharp acidic stench lingered around the tree itself.

  Adelaide tilted her head toward the heavens. Sunlight spilled through wide swaths of white clouds, unmarred—no birds, no constructs, not even a single flaw across the sky’s endless canvas.

  She retrieved a harmonica and raised it to her lips.

  Before she could play, a sharp snap echoed in her ears.

  Her lips curved into a smile. “Adam undid part of my memory manipulation…”

  She rose to her feet. “He’s grown,” she said softly. “Today truly is quiet.”

  Without hesitation, Adelaide stepped off the cliff—plunging into the roaring sea below.

  “Sir, please open the door,” the conductor’s voice echoed again.

  Adam didn’t respond. His attention was fixed on X, who had fallen unconscious at some point he couldn’t recall.

  When did this happen?

  He checked her pulse at her neck, then carefully adjusted her posture.

  Another knock.

  Adam frowned. He must’ve noticed the irregularity when Devourer activated.

  And if his suspicion was right, Devourer was also the reason X had blacked out.

  The knock came again.

  “Sir?” the conductor said. “I’ll be coming in now.”

  Adam’s jaw tightened. Is he even allowed to do that?

  Before he could object, the door creaked open.

  A short, broad man in luxurious red-and-white attire stepped inside. An ornate mask of matching colors concealed his face, leaving only a narrow visor exposed.

  “Pardon the intrusion—”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Adam cut in sharply. “How dare you barge in without my consent?” His voice rose. “Does being a conductor give you the right to invade the privacy of me and my wife?”

  The conductor’s gaze flicked between them. He bowed deeply. “My sincerest apologies, sir.”

  “That won’t suffice,” Adam snapped. “What if we’d been intimate?”

  Despite his outward fury, panic churned beneath the surface. The system had been relentlessly flagging a potential source of danger, and yet the conductor showed neither irritation nor arrogance.

  That alone was alarming.

  “I understand your dissatisfaction,” the conductor said calmly. “It was never my intention to intrude—”

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  “Then why did you?” Adam demanded.

  “A threat was detected.”

  Adam feigned alarm. “And? Has it been dealt with?”

  “There is nothing to worry about, sir.”

  Adam exhaled in apparent relief. “Then… I apologize for my outburst.”

  “Please don’t,” the conductor replied quickly. “I was at fault. You’d be well within your rights to file a complaint.”

  Adam offered a strained chuckle. “That won’t be necessary. A misunderstanding, that’s all.”

  “Nevertheless,” the conductor insisted, “I violated your privacy. Allow me to compensate you and your wife.”

  Before Adam could respond, the man continued, “You’ll be upgraded to our finest Tier-One cabin, with full amenities for the remainder of your journey.”

  A generous offer…

  So why does it feel like isolation?

  “I’ll gladly accept,” Adam said after a pause, smiling warmly.

  The conductor extended his hand. Adam shook it.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” the conductor said casually, “what rank are you?”

  Adam blinked. “Rank? I’m not in the military, sir.”

  The conductor laughed. “Not what I meant. You’re Awakened, yes?”

  “Me?” Adam replied blankly. “You must be mistaken.”

  [Potential Source of Danger Detected]

  “It seems I am,” the conductor said, releasing his grip.

  “I’ll have a stewardess prepare your cabin,” he continued. “Enjoy your journey.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Thank you for the hospitality—”

  The words barely left Adam’s mouth before the conductor spun, exploding forward with terrifying speed. A fist cloaked in deep indigo energy stopped inches from Adam’s face, murderous intent flooding the room.

  Adam froze.

  His breath hitched. His knees softened. Cold sweat traced his pale skin.

  The conductor withdrew his fist and bowed. “I’ve overstepped again. I’ll ensure proper compensation.”

  Then he left—quietly.

  Adam’s expression collapsed into a frown.

  That bastard was trying to kill me.

  The sense of death had been unmistakable. Every instinct screamed at him to dodge—yet with Manipulator active, he’d reacted exactly as an ordinary man would.

  I can’t risk that again.

  Not against someone that strong.

  A familiar laugh echoed in his mind.

  “It’ll take more than that to fool him,” the demonic voice purred. “But well done. One day, people like him won’t be able to face us.”

  Adam scowled. “You have explaining to do,” he snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me I was infected with a Xyrath?”

  “Why would I?” it cackled. “You starved me for so long—it’s only fair. Just wait until you see how much it’s grown.”

  The laughter lingered—then faded into nothing.

  Adam’s expression darkened.

  His gaze drifted to X. If her story was true, then the rapist she spoke of had indeed died by his hand. Worse still, a Xyrath had infected him—and he had lived unaware of it until now.

  How much has the parasite shaped me?

  How many of my decisions were never truly mine?

  He had no answers. Only an encroaching, existential dread tightening around his thoughts.

  Though new memories surged through him, they felt incomplete—like staring at a photograph riddled with blurred-out sections. He could study individual fragments, draw conclusions from isolated details… yet never see the full image.

  There’s no way Vicar isn’t aware—

  The realization struck him like a hammer.

  Is that why he keeps asking if I remember that incident?

  Damn it.

  Adam slammed his fists against the cabin wall.

  A faint groan broke the silence.

  He snapped his head toward X. Her eyelids fluttered, signs of waking.

  Good. I need to warn her about the conductor’s suspicions.

  Deep within the flying ship, in a concealed chamber cloaked in dim light, two figures sat across from one another.

  One was the conductor.

  The other was larger, broader—his imposing frame wrapped in similar ceremonial attire, his masked face unreadable.

  “Herald,” the conductor asked evenly, “did you find anything in your section?”

  The man shook his head. “Nothing, sir. The others reported the same.” He hesitated, then added carefully, “Should we… contact the Temple?”

  “No,” the conductor replied without hesitation. “Not yet. This isn’t a matter we can afford to mishandle.”

  “Then what are your orders, sir?”

  Silence stretched between them.

  At last, the conductor shifted, fingers drumming against the polished wooden table. “What we do know,” he said slowly, “is that the aura originated from the western section of the ship.”

  With a soft rustle, sheets of parchment manifested from thin air. He slid them across the table.

  “I’ve narrowed it down to four suspects.”

  Herald accepted the documents, scanning the faces one by one.

  “Over the coming weeks,” the conductor continued, “we’ll determine which of them is a Demonkin.”

  Herald looked up. “And when we confirm it, sir?”

  The conductor scoffed.

  “Is that even a question?” His voice hardened. “If they serve an opposing Lord—”

  His words fell like a verdict.

  “—we crush them.”