Southern Region, Dratol…

  Adam walked the familiar streets beneath a fresh disguise, his blond hair swaying as a cold wind swept through the deserted road.

  This place has changed, he thought.

  Many buildings he once recognized were gone—some reduced to rubble, others razed entirely, with only skeletal frameworks hinting at reconstruction. The scars of destruction were everywhere.

  He exhaled slowly, memories surfacing unbidden.

  I can’t shake the feeling those attacks weren’t indiscriminate…

  Though several months had passed since the terror incident, its aftermath still clung to the southern district. Much of the population had fled to safer regions, and property owners either sold at a loss or abandoned their holdings outright.

  Adam shook his head, forcing the thoughts aside, and glanced up at the clear night sky.

  “It’s already night,” he muttered. “Why would they embargo carriages of all things?”

  As he continued onward, a rundown stall caught his attention—a flickering sign barely clinging to visibility.

  Elliot’s Fish and Chips.

  Adam slowed, eyes lingering on the unimpressive structure behind the stall. Amid surrounding decay, it stood strangely untouched, though its prime had long since faded.

  Is that guy back from Vohmir?

  He turned away and resumed walking. His pace was unhurried, almost aimless to an outside observer. The streets remained eerily quiet. Aside from a few stray cats, the occasional dog, and one unfortunate chicken, he walked alone.

  Now and then, he passed houses with dim lights glowing behind curtained windows—lights that vanished the moment he drew near.

  Eventually, a familiar silhouette emerged ahead.

  Ah. They got a new signpost… but everything else is the same.

  Adam smiled faintly at the glowing rum-bottle sign flickering above the tavern. He picked up his pace, reaching the door in moments.

  Three people inside. None of them are Erik Gilmore.

  Are they in the secret room, then?

  He pushed the door open.

  The tavern’s interior greeted him—unchanged. Two men in heavy black cloaks sat at the table nearest the counter, while a young girl in a white dress occupied a seat several tables away.

  Adam recognized the men instantly. He’d seen them often in the company of Igor and Bricteva.

  “We’re closed for the week,” one growled. “Didn’t you hear about the curfew?”

  The other man and the girl merely stared, suspicion and curiosity mingling in their gazes.

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  Ignoring the warning, Adam stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He watched the men exchange looks, irritation simmering beneath the surface.

  One of them stood abruptly and stalked toward him. “Are you deaf?” he snapped, voice rough. “I said we’re closed. Get the fuck out—now.”

  Adam spared him a single glance before taking a seat at an empty table.

  “Where are Igor and Bricteva?” he asked calmly. “Tell them to come out.”

  The man faltered for just a fraction of a second. His companion stiffened, eyes narrowing.

  “What’s your business with them?” the second demanded, rising from his chair.

  The first moved closer, hand twitching as he signaled the other to secure the locks.

  Adam chuckled softly, never breaking eye contact. “Are you two trying to start something?” he asked. “Are you sure you want to take responsibility for how that ends?”

  “Brat, do you have any idea who you’re talking—”

  “Hold on, Decker,” the second man interrupted.

  He approached and took the seat opposite Adam, studying him closely. “Are you… Adam?”

  “Finally,” Adam said with a small smile, nodding. “With the chaos in the central region, you understand why I had to come like this, right?”

  The men exchanged another look, then nodded.

  The seated man extended a hand. “Before we continue, I need to confirm your identity. The insignia.”

  Adam retrieved the item from his inventory and tossed it across the table. The men examined the silver badge, then slid it back.

  “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Adam pocketed it. “Now. Where are Igor and Bricteva?”

  “They aren’t in Dratol,” Decker said quietly.

  Adam frowned. “Where did they go?”

  “Vohmir,” the other answered. “Urgent business. They won’t return until the end of the month—longer, if the borders stay sealed.”

  Adam leaned back, saying nothing.

  This has been a complete waste of time.

  He drummed his fingers against the table, mind racing through his dwindling options. He couldn’t return to Varidan Academy while his substitute remained active—and even if he could, the academy’s territorial restrictions made that impossible.

  Wait here… or go to Elliot’s place?

  The thought hadn’t fully settled when the system chimed.

  [Potential Source of Danger Detected]

  Adam snapped his head to the side and caught the amber-haired young girl stealing glances in his direction. The moment their eyes met, she turned away, staring hard at the far wall.

  “Who is that?” Adam asked, gesturing toward the table closest to the window.

  “She’s Bricteva’s niece,” the man replied promptly, following Adam’s gaze. “What’s the problem? Did she offend you somehow?”

  “Her niece, huh?” Adam nodded, though his eyes never left her. “Just curious. I’ll be heading out now. Tell Erik Gilmore to contact me as soon as possible.”

  “Aren’t you staying the night? Your room is clean and—”

  “There’s no need,” Adam cut in. “I have other matters to attend to.”

  He rose from his seat and walked toward the exit. Just before stepping outside, he cast one last glance at the young girl, then pulled the door shut behind him.

  After locking the door and securing the bolts, Decker crossed the tavern floor toward Dotson’s table.

  “How did he sneak out of Varidan Academy?” Decker asked in a low voice. “Did you know he was coming?”

  “How would I know if you didn’t?” Dotson clicked his tongue. “Our spies reported nothing. Not a whisper. Something’s wrong.”

  “Do you think he was a fake?”

  “That’s impossible. The badge was unquestionably authentic.” Dotson shook his head. “Forget it. We’ll get answers soon enough. Go contact them—they’ll want to know why he showed up after all this time. I’ll handle Idalia.”

  They rose in unison. Decker disappeared through the door behind the counter, while Dotson approached the young woman slumped over her table.

  “Idalia,” Dotson said, looming over her still form. “What did you do earlier? Did you use your powers on him?”

  She nodded without lifting her head.

  Dotson’s breath hitched. “What did you see?”

  Idalia slowly raised her head. Her amber hair spilled over her right eye, while tears streamed freely from the left. Her lips parted, but the words came out fractured and trembling.

  “I—I don’t know what I saw. I thought I was going to die.” Her voice quavered. “Who was that? I—Is he human?”

  Her fear echoed through the tavern, yet her face remained disturbingly still—smooth, rigid, almost rubbery. Though her mouth moved, her expression was frozen, like a statue incapable of reflecting its terror.

  So she can feel fear after all, Dotson thought, drawing a careful breath. After months of orchestrating their meeting, who would have imagined it would end like this? The others need to know—their suspicions may be right.

  He took her trembling hands in his. “You’re safe here,” Dotson said gently, patting her back. “Tell me everything you saw. Take your time.”