The fourth exception is for power rankings.

  For power rankings of each individual, each region has its own system, however, everyone is prohibited from discussing it outside of Order facilities and controlled areas. So much so that only teachers are given the privilege of seeing the ranks of their charges and only informs them at the end of each quarterly assessment.

  Because of the diverse nature of each system, it is difficult to state them all here, as it would take up another three books without even the necessary explanations for each of the systems listed. So, I will list only three examples, the most widespread and commonly used systems.

  The first one, is the Eastern system, the system where the terms and practices for the Daoist practice of cultivation began. The practice only stood for only two hundred years before it was abandoned by the Order because of its weaknesses like adding a core inside the body which proved fatal, as it simply added another target for enemies to exploit.

  However, the ranking system was rediscovered after the breaking and despite being rudimentary, it had stood as the longest serving ranking method used by the Order at over 13000 years.

  The system introduces six realms of power,

  Earth, Wind, Cloud, Sky, Spirit and Divine.

  Each realm is divided into five minor stages between them.

  Initiate, Tempering, Profound, Rising, and Peak.

  The next is the Western System, also known as Kagamiya-De Lacy system, a system that is more than 8000 years old. A collaboration between Albion and Japan, it introduces six tiers of power, taken from the process of forging a blade.

  Ignited, Awakened, Forged, Refined, Blessed and Crowned.

  The tiers of this system, however, are divided only into three ranks.

  Cinder, Sand, and Clay for Awakened.

  Wood, Stone, and Bronze for Ignited.

  Copper, Iron, and Steel for Forged.

  Jeweled Steel, Silver, and Gold for Refined.

  True-Gold, Silk, and Jade for Blessed

  The last ranks, is where we get the name, crownholders.

  King, Emperor and Sovereign.

  The third example is the Joint System, a hybrid system and the product of the collaboration of all member countries in an effort to make a standard model. Thus, this system is the youngest at only 2559 years old and the current system we use.

  This ranking of power, simply takes the tiers of the Western system and renames them into either domains or realms (depending on the conclave), while integrating the five stages of the Eastern System for a more streamlined version.

  -excerpt from the personal lecture notes of Rami Abdallah, Teacher, and member of the Order.

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

  Mochizuki Masaki was a simple man. Despite how his life began, he still managed to make a simple living as a police officer. He married the love of his life in a simple wedding. Then had three beautiful children. Life for him couldn’t be simpler.

  And yet, life didn’t want him to be simple. His in-laws were anything but simple people. They live in a large compound and were rich enough to afford weekly cleaning service for their entire house. His father-in-law could take him on in a fight while his mother-in-law, well, none in the family could beat her.

  But if it was only that, he could be content. A few oddities here and there was the spice of life after all. However, things inevitably change. His once simple job at the patrol division suddenly became less so.

  “Oi, Masa, you look worried,” Chief Inspector Kuroda said to his subordinate. They were in a car and headed for Tokyo. “You that concerned about this case?”

  They were on the highway enroute to the office, when Masaki fell silent.

  “No. Sorry boss,” he replied giving him a wry smile that did nothing to assuage his superior’s concern. “Just thinking about my daughter.”

  “She’ll be fine,” the Inspector replied. “Didn’t we check everything about that organization?”

  “I know boss,” he replied. He knew that of course, as he was the one who asked. But there was just something, a gut feeling, that told him that something will happen. “I’m just worried that a strange slug would attach itself to my daughter.”

  “If you’re going to be that over protective with her, she’s going to end up alone,” the Inspector said while scratching his cheek. He could not help but think that this subordinate of his, can easily become incredibly stupid when it comes to his daughters.

  “But it still a possibility!” Masaki retorted, shifting to turn towards his boss but at the same time, turning the wheel. Their car swerved on the next lane before he managed to get it under control again.

  “Alright! Alright!” The Inspector shouted while clutching at his seatbelt. “Just keep your eyes on the damned road!”

  The inspector sighed tiredly as Masaki again focused his attention on his driving, maybe a little too forcefully.

  It was April 14, 2019, and they were on their way to Tokyo. Not on a business trip, far from it. A few days ago, on the day her daughter was supposed to travel there. It started like any ordinary day.

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

  The elevator shuddered slightly as it reached the fourth floor of the Utsunomiya City Public Security Bureau. Assistant Inspector Masaki stepped out, into the black carpet of the office. The corridor was lined with unmarked white doors identified only with small brass plates. Intelligence Section, Counter-Extremism, Foreign Affairs Liaison.

  He passed the old vending machine humming near the break room and entered the main office. Normally, the Bureau’s city division had the quiet stillness of a library — the quiet scratching of pens, the whir of aging copiers and fax machines, the occasional cough. This morning however, there was a different kind of noise, purposeful, hushed, and uneven.

  Several analysts were gathered around the central monitor. A set of blurred stills from a surveillance feed looped on-screen of figures moving through the ticket gates at Utsunomiya Station, timestamped just before dawn.

  Masaki set down his bag on his desk, and immediately made some coffee, the scent of the brew lingering in the air.

  “Morning,” he said.

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

  A few answered right away and gave him polite nods, while most remained focused on the screen.

  From his office, his boss, Kuroda stepped out. His expression was calm but taut. It was the kind of look he wore when something minor might turn into something national. It was not a look he wore often.

  “Masaki,” Kuroda said, motioning him over. “You heard anything from the prefectural liaison?”

  “Not yet, sir. I was planning to check in after reviewing yesterday’s intel,” he replied as he handed his boss the coffee.

  Kuroda nodded, took a sip and setting the coffee on the edge of a desk. “Do it, but first take a look at that footage. Four passengers from Tōhoku main line arrived here just after 6 a.m. Matching profiles from the case Tokyo’s been building. Public Security Bureau flagged them. I would love it for someone to say it was just coincidence.”

  Masaki walked over and leaned closer to the screen. The figures in the image wore different types of clothing, foreigners, that much they could tell. “Faces aren’t clear. We have movement after this?”

  “Only partial. They disappeared past the exit cameras,” Kuroda replied, before taking another sip of coffee. “Local units are checking hotels and rentals, but keep it internal for now. No leaks, no speculation. Word from the top, all coming from Tokyo.”

  Masaki straightened. “Understood. You think it’s connected to the chatter we got from Saitama Division?”

  Kuroda’s mouth twitched a half-grimace, half-smile. He put down the coffee on the desk and stood beside me. “That’s what Tokyo said. A few days ago, I got at least four section chiefs up my ass on this one. Yesterday it was a director.”

  “Morning, sirs,” said Sato, his junior, giving both a salute. “Just read the new transcripts. They’re saying it’s not just from Tokyo this time. Something about these foreign contacts showing up as far north as Hokkaido.”

  The two men exchanged glances. “They’ve been slowly creeping, at this point, the only place we haven’t received sightings from is Okinawa,” replied Masaki while scratching his cheek.

  Kuroda nodded. “At this point, we’d considered dumb if we wouldn’t notice. Always in groups of four, posing as tourists, but always just taking pictures.”

  “Didn’t seem to buy anything, and fled when officers questioned them,” Sato continued with a smile as he too, studied the screen. “If coincidence happens three times it’s no longer a coincidence.”

  “It’s a pattern.” Kuroda finished heavily.

  Masaki glanced at the bulletin board— the week’s assignments, neat rows of printed memos — and saw someone had already pinned up a new red notice. CLASSIFIED: LEVEL 2 RESPONSE.

  The air in the room felt heavier than the weather report outside suggested.

  Kuroda exhaled through his nose. “So much for a quiet Friday.” But as soon as he said those words, the telephone in his office rang. Sato quickly ran and answered, before putting phone down on the table. He then walked back to us and whispered “Chief, someone from the Counter-Intelligence Section.”

  In a flash Kuroda was on the phone, voice sharp and low. He gestured for one of my colleagues, and another officer hurried past with a file so thick it looked ready to burst its bindings. A few minutes later and the blinds were drawn on glass-walled chief’s office. Another bad sign.

  It took two hours before he emerged from his office again. He looked grim as he gestured for me and Sato to come to him.

  “We’re needed at Tokyo. Sunday up to Wednesday,” he said quietly, trying to keep his temper in check. “They’ll brief us once we arrive there. We’ll be moving in pairs. Masa you’re with me, Sato, get Kirishima and tell Sergeant Kanagawa he’ll be in charge while we’re out.”

  Both of his subordinates exchanged glances before nodding. While Sato looked excited, Masaki meanwhile was thinking of possible excuses to tell his in-laws.

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

  The trip to Tokyo felt shorter than it should have, the hours compressed by worry and the small, shared silence between the two men who had learned to measure problems by the questions they did not ask. They managed to link up with Sato and Kirishima as they entered the parking space.

  Inside the Tokyo Public Security Bureau’s headquarters the badge scanner beeped, a familiar, bureaucratic rhythm that somehow made Masaki feel both safer and smaller. Air conditioning hummed in the corridors as Kuroda led the way, shoulders squared, coat collar up against a chill that was partly artificial and partly circumstance.

  They were met by a lieutenant from the Counter-Intelligence Section, a middle-aged woman named Hoshino, who had the grace of ruler, her tone her stance, was polished and sharp. She directed them to the conference room.

  Inside the room, the atmosphere was different from the city division. It was somehow denser, quicker. Officers moved with precise purpose while folders changed hands like so fast one can barely make out what the labels were. A large projection screen dominated one wall. The label on the door read BRIEFING — COUNTER-INTELLIGENCE, and it felt those words were an understatement.

  Papers, folders, pencils, and a tablet were waiting on the long table while the smell of coffee circulated in a steady stream. Masaki counted and including them, there were at least sixty people inside.

  Kuroda acknowledged Hoshino with a curt nod and introduced Masaki. “Assistant Inspector Masaki, officers, Sato, and Kirishima. They’ll be with me on this.”

  Hoshino’s eyes flicked to their group with the quick assessment of someone measuring resources. “Good. Take a seat, gentlemen.”

  Minutes later Deputy Director Kawakami entered, trailed by section chiefs who carried the air of purposeful understatement. They rose instinctively, but Kawakami waved them down.

  “Normally, joint operations follow thorough coordination,” he began without fanfare. “This is a special case. As you all know, in the past few months we’ve seen recurring incidents. Groups of four tourists behaving in ways that don’t fit ordinary sightseeing.”

  “They take pictures, loiter, but avoid making purchases or engaging in conversations. Attempts to make contact have given mixed results,” Kawakami continued. “But, foreign liaison had just passed us a warning that these people have a hidden agenda. Normally we would need to have investigated them thoroughly before making our own verdict. But I don’t think Interpol is in the business of jokes. They’ve given us a rough time frame — a week.”

  “So, we find out what they’re up to,” he said simply. “Our agents are spread thin at the moment, and our third attempt at contact spooked them, they’ve become more guarded. That’s why we pulled personnel from other divisions. Your task is to get close, find out what they’re after, and if necessary, stop them. Hoshino.”

  The lieutenant stepped forward. “We need coverage that can move without standing out. You’ll embed with local surveillance teams, pose as sightseers, businessmen, professors — whichever cover gets you close. You’ll have until noon to decide what cover you want. Procurement is on standby to assist.”

  She paced the room once, eyes sweeping the faces. “If they prove problematic or dangerous, coordinate with uniformed personnel. No public statements. All information flows back to me. Understood?”

  A unified murmur of assent rolled through the room.

  The projection flickered and a map of Japan bloomed across the screen. Red dots, then orange, a thin white thread connecting all of them. Each marker carried a timestamp. Each cluster read the same, groups of four, similar patterns: visa holders(unknown), photos at landmarks, departures staggered over odd hours.

  Pattern analysis so far,” Hoshino said, voice flat. “Groups of four. No arrests with convictions. No aggressive acts recorded. But”—she paused and the room leaned in holding its breath— “Any attempts of assessing if they are visa holders have been met with zero success.

  “It was through this interaction that one of our agents flagged this group. It was simply luck, and when we started investigating, well as you can see—” she gestured towards the screen. “Our first attempt was in Yokohama last month, the second near Sendai three weeks ago.”

  “Both attempts yielded no results but also, they managed to give our agents the slip. One moment they were following them, then after rounding a corner, they’re gone. Because of this our third attempt was—” she stopped searching for the right words. “—more direct. We had two agents put on uniforms and walked up to them. Before they could even ask, they ran. The same pattern of escape.”

  Sato pulled up a transcript on his tablet and showed it to Kuroda. “Chief, analysis suggests these ‘tourists’ are probes.”

  Kuroda rubbed his temple. “Intelligence, not intent,” he muttered. “If Interpol’s involved, there’s purpose here. It’s unlikely to be academic. They avoid confrontation and attention.”

  “They’re collecting information,” Kirishima offered. “Maybe mapping CCTV blind spots, noting staff rotations, testing routes.”

  Hoshino clicked to the next slide. The grainy CCTV of a hotel ledger screenshot, metadata from a camera showing unusual angle and time stamps.

  “We’ve opened diplomatic channels,” she said. “Assume operational security is compromised until proven otherwise. That means discreet surges, no public statements, and a two-tier containment plan. Immediate local disruption if they move in numbers, and a parallel investigation to identify handlers and origin points.”

  “As of right now, we estimate their numbers to be at least three-hundred, with most concentrating here in the Tokyo area.”

  Someone whistled and Masaki read the room. The language was procedural, but the stakes were real. Risk assessment, containment, escalation. He felt the small, particular weight of a paper dossier in his hands and the larger, less tangible weight of decisions that could ripple outward.

  Kawakami folded his hands. “You’ll be dispersed across the marked locations. Move with subtlety and share nothing outside of secure channels. Kuroda, you’ll run operations in the Kanto perimeter. Hoshino will coordinate intelligence flow and diplomatic touchpoints.”

  As the areas of operation were being given, Kuroda met Masaki’s eyes. “You’re with me tonight.”

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

  Yesterday, midafternoon the teams had already formulated plan for covers. Masaki and his group went to the Procurement at the Bureau’s Tokyo branch. The office was a narrow room with racks of clothes, costume pieces, and stacks of briefcases, sample IDs and other props.

  He listened as a civilian clothes specialist ran through their options, teachers, consultants, university professor, salesmen, baristas, delivery personnel, even wedding attires for the younger agents. They ruled out the use of cameras in case it might attract their targets attention and alert them.

  In the end, Kirishima chose a weary businessman and went with a black suit, briefcase, ambiguous itinerary. Sato grinned and picked a musician complete with a leather jacket and guitar case. Masaki opted for the quiet professor and wore a pair of glasses, and a messenger bag. It felt theatrical and necessary all at once.

  Other than the odd collection of books, they were also issued their sidearms, pepper sprays and tasers. Hopefully their disguise would let them get near without attracting too much attention. After that another round of strategizing and the finalization of the plan.

  Now, a day later, the operation had begun.