When he opened the door to the room, he noticed that, as always, only the light from the entrance was on.

  He was still by the doorway when he cautiously inserted the key card into the socket, bringing the entire room into wakefulness. It was a condominium that exuded modern sophistication, seamlessly blending the comfort of private residence living with the indulgence of five-star hospitality.

  The room itself was wide and bathed in soft light, offering an excellent panoramic view of the city below. The familiar sofa that he usually liked to lie on was still there, as well as the low table where he would usually put his feet up. Both were unmoved. To the left, the bedroom door stood closed, while on the other side was the pantry and the bathroom.

  From the looks of it, the room remained relatively untouched—or so it seemed.

  As soon as he fully entered the room, he willed the door behind him to lock. The faint sounds of the gears clicking in place were his signal.

  Without any gesture, and with the barest exertion of will, he allowed his senses to sweep the entire room. A blanket of perception unfurled, casting across every corner of the room. Every crack, every crevice of the space was scoured for any hint of deceit, listening spells, recording charms, or hidden curses. A simple ‘debugging’, in his own words.

  He found none, and so his work could now begin.

  He dispensed with the ceremonies and without hesitation, willed his burden to one side of the room. The bags disappeared and reappeared in flashes of quiet fire.

  With the snapping of his fingers, magic circles formed, latching themselves into the floor, walls, ceiling, and the door, blocking sound from leaving the room. Soundlessly, they sank in place, leaving not a trace of their being.

  With circles of warding cutting the room off from any who would pry into his business, only then did he allow himself a bit of respite. He paced for a bit, thinking of the next course of action, and then realized that the residue of the last hours of travel still clung to him. And so, he bathed—a more mundane aspect that he had come to enjoy.

  As Remy had said earlier, there were scented candles stacked neatly on top of the bathroom sink. Without a word, however, on his command, they floated upwards and spontaneously lit themselves. The light switches flicked themselves off, and the room was plunged into darkness, somewhat lifting his heavy mood.

  However, despite the aromas of the candles tickling his nose, the nauseating taste of deception and manipulation still lingered on his lips while his thoughts were churning with possibilities of tricks, traps, and feints.

  The past couple of hours—no, reluctant as he was to admit it, even possibly months before—he had been completely oblivious. What had been happening behind his back?

  He finished quickly, and with a flick of his wrist and a finger, the moisture on his skin dispelled. Despite the already low temperature outside, the chill of the air conditioning still settled upon his skin like gossamer silk.

  Flames erupted all over him; however, quick as a flash, he reappeared in a simple white t-shirt and thick pajamas. It suited him, cold then warm, a contradiction.

  In one smooth motion, he hovered just above the bed and reclined on a chair woven out of the purest mana—the shape, maintained by will and discipline alone. His eyes were closed, but sleep did not come to him no matter how dearly he hoped.

  His mind was coiling and unravelling like many serpents looping against each other, each bearing a question of great import. Even with his train of thought incoherent, one thing was clear: he was on the back foot.

  And so, he began to arrange his thoughts and catalogue what he knew so far.

  Firstly, Uncle Konrad called us here under pretense.

  Secondly, only a handful of people in this world possessed the capability and the influence to gather members of the order under one roof covertly and with apparent ease.

  Among those, the number of people who had enough influence to borrow our clan’s establishment narrowed that list further—to four people.

  Nana baa-san or Kuuko baa-san would never do something so roundabout like this. Neither was prone to theatrics.

  And indeed, they saw little value in it, that, had they intended to deliver a message of importance—be it summons, censure, or induction—they would have come themselves instead of the other way around.

  That left two.

  Uncle Konrad, the voice of the Reichland conclave. And Uncle Dio, Remy’s father and master of Albion. Only they had the requisite authority and disposition to orchestrate this elaborate gathering.

  Thirdly, by Remy’s earlier behavior—his attempt to prevent him from leaving, paired with the number of fake props distributed among the guests, suggested to him that, he and his family were the only ones of true importance. The other guests were not; they were simply decoys to complete the illusion and deception.

  Lastly, Remy and Yuki’s confusion was genuine, of that, he was sure. Both did not possess any shred of information relevant to this situation, and therefore it was also logical to think that the other members didn’t know anything about this event.

  They were simply instructed to keep us here.

  His mind began to writhe and whirl with unbidden thoughts, too many things of which he remained ignorant. And worse still, the order’s loyalty or motives might yet be in question.

  The order that had fought and stood against the darkness so valiantly in ages past, and, even now, has its own fair share of secrets, this is true, that much was always known.

  But this—this was something else.

  They knew of his station and the authority that came with it, and yet still chose this course of action. This told much but also very little in regard to information he could utilize.

  He sighed. Such line of thinking was unbecoming. Or perhaps, he merely was not looking at this, from the correct angle.

  Nana baa-san and Kuuko baa-san. Why hadn’t they informed him? Those two would not hesitate to inform him of anything, good or ill, treachery or otherwise. Yet, not a word from them.

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

  In that moment, a small thought occurred to him: would anyone be able to twist their hand and force them into compliance?

  A small chuckle left his lips. The answer was obvious. Between the two of them and the threat of annihilation they offered, a threat significant enough that metal would flash-boil, atomized by heat, who would even dare?

  He could only assume that they themselves had been kept in the dark.

  But how?

  Ah, I see.

  It was easy enough to see once one knew where to look.

  Uncle Konrad was the one who orchestrated the event, yes. But it was Uncle Diocletian who arranged the use of our establishments. He did, on occasion, especially when he wanted to make a good impression on a certain caliber of guests.

  It would certainly arouse no suspicion. It was after all a familiar pattern. Something routine.

  And that was, possibly, the genius of it. Habit, it seemed, cast a rather large shadow, and in that shadow, many moved unseen.

  Then, and then—nothing. That was it, the extent of what he knew.

  It pained him to know so little. Not out of fear, more a matter of pride than anything else. A pride that bore no satisfaction remaining in ignorance. Their web, either too intricate that he himself was lacking more details, or had not yet fully spun.

  So perhaps another line of thinking was needed.

  By his will, in a flash of fire, a mug of hot chocolate appeared to his left. He took it with his left hand and drank a heady sip. A simple enough brew but it was disarmingly gentle, its sweet scent and bitter undertones, a balm to his soul.

  Another flick of the wrist and flash of flame, and the silver shield given by his father, coalesced and floated near his right. Its true value, he suspected, was not fully understood.

  His right hand opened and it floated towards him and stopped before hovering gently in between his fingers. He did not require sight to recognize to whom this shield, this Aegis, belonged. This particular one, was owned by Remy.

  He would know. Even if he had not been the one to present it to him, its unique signature was similar enough to its original bearer’s resonance, that there was no room for false identification. No forger, no matter how skilled, could replicate the inimitable rhythm that came from one’s soul.

  And for someone such as him, who could naturally perceive the flowing aether within men, especially those who were well versed in the arcane, they might as well have been carrying signs on their very person.

  Only full-fledged members who had undergone the rite of baptism were given and entrusted with such artifacts. There had been no exception to this rule, even in the fourteen-thousand year recorded history of the Order.

  None.

  And yet, here he was, holding onto Remy’s. His brother currently held Kat’s, while the other two, in the possession of his parents, belonged to Wei and Eli.

  The four strongest in their generation.

  The significance of this was not lost on him. As with the shape of the item, so too was the act of giving it to someone else. It was not a mere gesture; it was declared intent.

  Why had they gone through all the trouble to bring them here, only for them to protect his family? Had he not done so well enough before?

  There was deceit, but also the promise of protection. Both given in the same breath.

  It was not quite what he had been expecting.

  There was something more at play here, more deliberate than coincidence. Taking all into consideration, however, it appeared that he and his family stood at the epicenter of this mystery.

  He could not help himself; a wide smile spread across his face. A merciless near manic thing that promised death to all who would stand in his way.

  As his spirit soared with excitement, he began to laugh. A laugh not only born of confidence and certainty, but of a mind that had triumphed over countless enemies, and broken them.

  His emotions became unsteady, so much so that his holo-hypnotic field, the one that he casted as an illusion upon himself—wavered—for a fraction of a second, and revealed eyes like bloody rubies and slit pupils that glinted red in the dim light.

  They were the eyes, of a predator.

  His laughter faded just as the first pale light of the dawn broke through the horizon. Naturally, he would win; he had no doubt about this, but most importantly he would keep his family safe.

  So, let the games begin.

  ========================================================================

  There’s a certain mystical calm—or Zen—you get when you wake up at any ungodly hour your heart desires, especially when you’ve slept for the duration that feels like an entire saga. The longer you sleep, the more satisfactory that state becomes, and the longer the little happy dance your soul does.

  Unfortunately, I woke up at thirty minutes before midday which is weird. I slowly got up from my bed and checked my phone.

  Thirty-one unread messages.

  That is not good—if I actually give a flying fuck about this whole circus of a meeting. Nope, not important.

  Mwuhahaha!

  I have been revived! And hungry.

  I changed my pajamas to some black slacks, put on my shoes, got my phone, and planned the noble endeavor of deciding where should I eat. I think they said something about a floor where we could eat. I wasn’t exactly listening last night. I think I was dying—but now, I live!

  And things will be different. I am prepared to shirk any and all duties and responsibilities that destiny and fate collectively decide to throw my way. I am beyond them! After the introspection I did last night, nothing can surprise me! I opened the door with purpose.

  “Mwuah! Jesus! Bruv—what are you camping around there for!?” I asked my brother after he gave me the customary shock in the morning. He was standing just outside the door; his hand raised in mid-knock.

  “This is the second time I’ve done this,” he replied tiredly. “I tried to wake you up because there was an announcement during breakfast this morning.”

  Now that I gotten a good look at him, he did look like he had gotten dressed. At least better than me. He then stepped aside to let me pass, but did sneak a glance into my room as I closed the door behind me.

  “That’s—your room?” he asked with the tone of incredulity. As if all the unfairness of the world were somehow inside the luxury suite.

  “No, that’s the dog’s apartment. I sleep on the toilet,” I replied nonchalantly. Don't forget dearest brother, you’re in one of the deluxe rooms, which is certainly more spacious than any room for two people.

  I continued walking like my reply wasn’t the most idiotic thing I have said. “So, what was the announcement about?”

  My brother looked at me and sighed. By this point, he already had developed a high tolerance for the amount of BS that can spout from my mouth.

  “Something about waiting for one more guest, from the Japanese side. They’ll arrive today,” My brother replied as we got into the elevator. “That, and one of the organizers showed up. He greeted everyone this morning and said the other will arrive this afternoon.”

  Hmmm. A bit early, I think. He’s being punctual for a purpose? Is this some elaborate plot that would inevitably lead me to causing a gigantic explosion, recreating the known universe before I sell it as an ordinary plastic miniature, at a markup?

  “Hey, Nii-san, you hear me? You zoned out a bit there.” my brother said waving a hand in front of my face.

  “I hear you, I’m not thrilled, but I’m too tired to pretend otherwise,” I deadpanned.

  “You just woke up!” my brother half shouted in disbelief.

  “Exactly, peak exhaustion.”

  My brother sighed again after our wonderful conversation.

  “So,” I asked after my thoughts snapped back to reality. “What did you say? After the thing about the organizer. Also where do we eat?”

  “Mom and dad aren’t that hungry so both will be in the lounge, but they said you must attend tonight’s gathering,” my brother explained. “And, we can eat at the tenth floor”

  “Really!? We have guild wars! Tonight!” I said in horror.

  “I know, I know,” my brother replied sounding already defeated. “Remy said we could make it, if we let Yuki open our accounts and we leave around ten minutes before eight.”

  “God! Why am I this unlucky!?” I asked all of existence—mainly God, but all of the cosmos works too.

  It’s like God threw all the bad luck in the air, and like a complete brilliant idiot, I grabbed a bucket and started catching everything while yelling “FREE STUFF!”

  “Brother,” my brother said, staring at me like I was a malfunctioning spoon, “you are sleeping in what looks to be a five-star suite, while on a fully paid for trip, in a different country. How is that unlucky?”

  I started to explain to my brother why this kind of luck is considered bad luck. It was a grand explanation that I was still going after we arrived at the tenth floor.

  “And that is why the universe doesn’t expand faster than light.” I breathed out, finishing my explanation just as we heard one of the elevators open and a group of people went out.

  “Long! That was way too long! And where the hell did that come from!?” My brother exclaimed before he sighed. “Well, you’re as exhausting as always, now that you’re not throwing up every few seconds.”

  Just as I was about to offer a rebuttal, something hit me.

  From the back.

  “AEEEEE!”

  “Who—a! BLURGHH—!”