Chapter 18:

  Moli stood atop a towering skyscraper, right at its edge, the city sprawling beneath him like a canvas of restless lights and pulsing veins. Cars streamed through the streets like glowing threads, and the noise rose to him faintly, as though it belonged to another world entirely—one that did not concern him. The wind toyed with his long coat, yet he did not move.

  He suddenly exhaled and said without turning,

  “You do know that trust is an act that must be shown by both sides in order to exist?”

  As if a shadow had peeled itself away from the wall behind him, a man dressed entirely in black appeared, his features half-hidden beneath the pale light. He bowed his head steadily and said,

  “Sorry. I was merely carrying out orders.”

  Moli waved his hand casually, a brief gesture that bordered on indifference.

  “Now leave.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Before the man could fade, Moli added in a cold tone,

  “In a way that makes you invisible to me.”

  The man nodded once more, then vanished—as though his existence had been nothing more than a visual error, now corrected.

  In the next instant, Sez appeared. No sound, no trace of transition—he was simply there. They exchanged calm glances, long enough to measure the distance between two intentions. Then suddenly, Moli’s fist shot forward.

  A flicker—Sez’s hand intercepted the punch.

  Moli smiled, with a strange, almost childlike sincerity.

  “I swear I’ll land that punch on you someday!”

  Sez slipped his hands into his pockets and sat on the building’s edge as if the dizzying drop meant nothing to him, his legs dangling over the void. He spoke calmly.

  “I’ve found my first thread.”

  Moli hummed in acknowledgment, and Sez continued,

  “There’s a formidable woman somewhere in a corner of this world. A few days ago, I was in one of China’s provinces… and it seems she commands an individual—or perhaps a group—of powerful demons.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Moli asked simply, as though inquiring about the weather,

  “How strong are they?”

  Sez answered just as simply,

  “As strong as the Sons.”

  Moli’s eyes widened sharply. The silence between them grew heavier.

  “Just a guess,” Sez added. “But I’ll find her. I have a feeling she’ll help me somehow in restoring my magical energy.”

  At that, Moli’s gaze drifted slightly, as though a distant thought had stirred awake in his memory. He remembered what Makoto had once said.

  .............

  Makoto had been training with his sword in the inner courtyard of the palace, while Moli sat at a distance on a short wooden balcony, watching. The sword was iron, weighing exactly two tons, and every swing made the wind howl around it as though it were being torn open.

  Moli placed a piece of cheese in his mouth and asked lazily,

  “How many forms of magic have you mastered, Makoto?”

  Makoto stopped abruptly, the sword frozen midair, then answered after a brief moment of thought,

  “Seven.”

  “And what’s the highest number among sorcerers?”

  Makoto shook his head.

  “Seven, I think. The other Anchors don’t reveal what they have up their sleeves…”

  Then his eyes widened suddenly.

  “Masao! The oldest man in the world! I completely forgot about him!”

  Moli tilted his head with subtle interest.

  “And how many has he mastered?”

  Makoto answered simply,

  “All of them.”

  He nodded, as though acknowledging the stature of a great man.

  “He announced his mastery of the eighth form when he celebrated his one hundred and twentieth birthday.”

  Moli muttered sarcastically,

  “All of them…”

  Then he raised his voice slightly.

  “How old is he now?”

  Makoto paused to think.

  “I believe he’s nearing one hundred and fifty.”

  “Is he strong?”

  “He’s the strongest sorcerer registered at the University.”

  “And he’s not one of the Three Lullabies?”

  Makoto shook his head.

  “In fact, for the first time in history, an entity shares the pinnacle of the magical world with the Three Lullabies. He’s the founder of Gransiana in Brazil. A magical organization that acknowledges nothing but resolve. Blood won’t get you in. Connections won’t get you in. Not even talent… Their training is harsher than most can endure.”

  Then he added jokingly,

  “Well, it’s not like they’re as powerful as one of the Lullabies, but their neutrality and distance from the spotlight allowed them to flourish like this.”

  Moli said,

  “If he were forced to face you… how would he fare?”

  Makoto answered honestly,

  “If he had a larger reserve of magical energy, I’d face endless difficulty against him. But fortunately, his blood is ordinary—it doesn’t belong to any Lullaby.”

  Moli murmured thoughtfully,

  “Even so… one hundred and fifty is far too long for a human lifespan.”

  Makoto laughed.

  “Wait until you see him! He looks like a solid man in his fifties!”

  A brief silence followed, broken by Moli’s mocking tone.

  “I believe their neutrality isn’t what saves them from the system.”

  Makoto smiled sideways.

  “I avoided mentioning it, but you’re truly sharp. Yes—the main reason the Lullabies don’t approach them is their private treasure. They possess a golden treasure of significance equal to Rin. That’s why the University advised us not to approach them without serious cause. Subduing them would cost us too much.”

  “So you don’t know what this treasure is?”

  Makoto lifted his sword again.

  “No. The University of the System is the only side that has seen it.”

  .............

  Moli returned to the present. He looked at Sez for a long moment—a gaze containing more calculation than curiosity.

  Sez grumbled,

  “Spit it out, man!”

  Moli said lightly, almost absentmindedly, yet with no strain in his tone at all,

  “Perhaps you should go to Brazil.”