Like any other town, Phaesevell was filled to the brim with tales of many kinds. It could be gossip about one of the townspeople cheating on his wife, about someone hitting big in the games of the Silverlily Inn (the signature casino of the town), or, in the rarest of occasions, the infamous Erster Hafen mansion — among the townspeople only though. Finding one of the town's own was a hard task, most people here were outsiders, and even the shopkeepers were once merchants ostracized by the cities. Naturally, all who roamed the streets of Phaesevell were only there for the fun and entertainment, for the pleasure and the good times, they had no time for stupid ghost stories. Add that to the fact that, even among the townspeople, the Erster Hafen mansion was no light subject to speak openly about, so it's true story amounted to nothing but slight rumours. There was always the possibility to ask the mayor himself about the truth, but even he had no idea what was behind it. He was simply after the divine knowledge that resided within it.

That being said, it still did not stop Aten from asking around. Of course, he felt much at ease this time, since he managed to get a good image of how the town was — and Lejin wouldn't dare come after him since he is the mayor's "property" now.

Hours passed, and the technorunner still maundered the sullied streets of the caved town with little information on his objective. An old woman spent nearly half an hour praising the "poor lil' mayor" about how he raised this town from the ashes, and that he tried his damndest to resolve the mansion's matter, only for it to "overwhelm" him — it was just a hag rambling so there wasn't much sense to what she said. However, not every stop he made to hear a tale was for naught.

The Four Frogs (a well-known tavern in the town) gathered the most eccentric individuals from all over Eldria. As common to other taverns, it was as bustling as a celebratory feast can get. But there was always an individual that didn't take kindly to company, and would always sit away in the corner, isolated; an outsider. That person happened to be an ex-militia soldier from the empire that fought off the southern rebels when the land was still for its people. Judging by the unit name he went by, "First A-17," a name similar to Aten's, he would have been part of the first battalion — which has been discontinued for decades now. Aten did not disclose information about himself to the man, even if both of them were outsiders from the empire, he still could not trust him. Thankfully, he didn't need to, the man was already at the rear end of his rope, and would ramble anything he knew about the empire that didn't reach the public — but no one would listen to an old geezer like him. He was around his mid-forties, but he looked no younger than eighty — likely due to the side effects of the nelcon energy that enhanced soldiers back then. None of that mattered to Aten though. What mattered was what the man knew, and he knew plenty. According to his tale, the mansion existed long before oldworld — like Aten and Eeira had predicted — during a time of peace when Eldria was a different land for natives and immigrants (although both of the same race). Those people were known for their mystical legends and traditional culture. Most of them believed in the age of gods and were natural hunters who knew little about the prosperities of cultivation until the immigrants came with their endless knowledge of agriculture. They turned the once desert land into what became the north of Eldria, filled with endless green fields and mountains. A hundred years or so passed, and their community evolved into an empire. That mansion was to be the first shelter, or more appropriately, the first temple for the emperor. The name it went by nowadays was but a mere fake that enemy factions took for their own when they invaded the country. Its true name in its true language was lost to the times. It became a mystical place with no history.

'Yeah, I get all that. But what does that have to do with the wraith?' Aten was eager to hear more about this lost country's history, but time was running short, and he needed only the important parts.

'The mansion itself is not from oldworld,' said the man, 'However, the wraith, I suspect, is from oldworld… particularly, in the last hundred years before the Black Frost. Because think about it with me, a wraith cannot be formed when necroalchemy was still something that didn't exist back in the oldworld. I might have a tale about that, but I need to know what exactly did you find in there.'

'I… there was really nothing of interest in there. I-I didn't manage to get further in so… I don't know.'

'I see, I see…,' the man took his time to think for a moment, 'What about the interiors? Anything special about them.'

Aten thought back to the unique crafted designs back in the morning room and then went on describing almost all that he had seen in the mansion, down to the chest with the modern lock.

'So it has gone through altercations…,' the man said with a smile on his face, 'There's no doubt about it, that mansion is the mansion. And I believe I might have a lead to your problem. But first, care to hear another tale? This one, in particular, might be of advantage to you the next time you step inside that place.'

'Sure…'

It was related to the wraith's past; the identity of the wraith itself. Ervina, the child of the morning, was her name, or so the tale told.

— In the days of yore, there lived an orphan who suffered a great deal, often ridiculed for her overly pale skin. Other children referred to her as the "Vampire Under Haven." But of course, no child would ever want to be that "vampire," that outcast who even the adults paid no heed to. Times past and the age of witches arrived, witches who were only considered a hoax to what came after. Being the mysterious and abnormal outcast she was, Ervina was to be burned, burned for her sins as a so-called witch, when she has never practiced a word. It was all because of her skin, her damned pale skin. But then one day, like the saving grace descending the stairway to heaven, the Man in Black arrived. He swathed himself in a garment of a lost time that was not yet to be. Commoners feared his presence, but not the little lady. She didn't deny him or think of him as a threat. She knew, she knew far better that he was "the one," not the one soulmate, but the one to save her, the one to bring about another conclusion to her story. He promised her a life worthy of her true self, a life away from the shadows and darkness she encased herself in. And that brought about the great mansion of haven. —

"You could probably guess what happened afterward. The story has been shattered over time, so the rest of the details were lost to history. But what we know for sure, what everyone knows, is that the Man in Black really brought upon her end. Out of everything in that story, he remains the element of mystery. Perhaps there was more to him in older tales. That's what I'd like to think at the least."

So far, there was no good information about the stitchreaper, but the wraith was related to it. Aten figured like the man had told me before, it might come in handy later down the line.

'Now, you want to take down that reaper, I suggest you pay little Ava's bookstore a visit! He's got quite the collection. And he's hidden well enough; the empire doesn't pay attention to him at all.'

'You don't mean…,' Aten thought back to before he was captured. The place he was to visit was the library he stumbled upon, the same library that would likely be under the rumble after the little feud with Lejin. What was even more infuriating was the owner, Ava, was in bed with Lejin and his men, and likely held a grudge against Aten after his shop's destruction. 'Ah shit, I guess I got no other choice.'

He placed a few coins of what he had left on the table, thanking the man for the information he provided him with. But the man kindly refused and handed Aten his money back. Disclosing information to bring the empire to its knees was something he would gladly do without needing anything in return. Aten could not believe the man's thought process, such charitable deeds were rare in this world, especially in this town, but as long as his money was back, he didn't care much.

A map was not needed to find that library once again. Just follow the path of destruction spread around town and it will lead you right to Ava's precious library. It was hardly missable, considering the entrance was downright in ruins, opening an easy opportunity for theft, but no one cared for books around here, so there was nothing to worry about. How exactly did this man profit off of anything from this shop, no one knew.

Before even setting foot inside, Aten could already hear the loud sound of a shotgun pump on his right. Indeed, the clerk, Ava, stood there, behind the counter, holding an old shotgun, glaring at Aten with piercing eyes. Everything was in order, just as Aten had expected. To avoid any complications, he resorted to negotiation, but the clerk wouldn't take it as long as he stood still.

'You dare come back after what you did to my shop?' The clerk gripped his weapon even harder than before.

'Hey, take it easy,' Aten slightly moved his arms downward with his hands forward, trying to calm down the clerk, 'If you hadn't called that little friend of yours, none of this would've happened. He did this, I remember, it was his men, using his weapons, to destroy your shop. So it was him, not me!'

'None of this would have happened if you had only listened. Give up like a good little boy.'

'Buddy, if you really wanted to kill me then you would've done it by now!' Aten shook his head in disbelief and dropped his defensive position, 'Just relax! I'm here for your books, nothing else.'

He moved along towards the stairs, ignoring the shotgun pointed at him. But before he could even touch the railings, the clerk fired his shotgun at the wall near him.

The clerk pumped his shotgun again, 'Entry costs three gemmiras!'

'You serious right now?' Aten wasn't ready for that man's bullshit.

'It is the only way I can make a living,' he looked at him with an enigmatic smile.

'Prick!' Aten mumbled before dropping in a few coins from his small bag onto the counter.

'Oh, I don't know about you, but I prefer bills. They are more—'

'Do we have a problem?!' Aten pulled out his own shotgun, which looked far more menacing and complex than the simple weapon the clerk carried. It was enough for both of them to come to an agreement, and for the clerk to stop his officious attitude. 'Where's the bestiary section? You do have one, right?'

'Right…,' the clerk was not pleased, but he wasn't willing to risk it, 'Climb up the stairs, fifth corridor to your right, third shelf from the top. You can't miss it, the entire collection oozes decrepitude. Fair warning though, you touch anything, you buy it. It's a company policy.'

Like hell, I will! You can shove that policy right up your ass… But Aten was tired of the useless argument and decided not to speak up. If the clerk later made a fuss, he would deal with him the proper way.

Before he could climb the stairs, Aten heard a quick and rough sound of the wood creaking from above, before heavy footsteps came down the stairs. A guy in a robe came through and bumped into Aten, who was quite taller than him. The clerk seemed rather surprised by the little guy, but went back to polishing his stuff as if nothing was wrong. Without second thoughts, Aten helped the guy up, who thanked me and immediately scurried off to the outside. He couldn't understand his hurry. It was as if—

That was when Aten realized… his money pouch was gone. The little shit used the oldest trick in the house of thievery, he simply pretended to bump into Aten just to pickpocket him. If he thought he could get away with nabbing that pouch, then he was in for a world of hurt. Aten rushed straight away out of the library and back to the outside. Leaving the clerk to laugh away without interruptions.

It took a couple of seconds of turning left and right before he spotted the midget running off toward the marketplace. Yet again, another chase began, in the same location as before, although Aten was the one to be feared this time. Unlike before, using the rooftops would give him the advantage, and the higher ground, literally. He grabbed the first ladder he laid eyes upon and made it to the top. Most of the buildings in the town were interconnected so traversing the rooftops would be easy. Fortunately, and unfortunately, the marketplace was crowded like an ant farm, meaning it would have been hard for the little runt to continue his escape, but it also made it hard for Aten to find him.

From the looks of how the chase was turning out to be, the runt knew little to nothing about the town he was running around in. Just like most people, he was an outsider who would get lost at every turn. Unlike these people though, Aten had a good sense of direction — from all his experience — so it took almost no time to memorize the place. He even went as far as to think of which path the runt would take so he could get the jump on him.

An odd feeling came over Aten as the chase went on. They were heading further into the cave, back to where the mansion was. It was unlikely for this to be part of the runt's plan, to lure him back in, rather, it felt like the mansion was the one pulling the runt — just like it did with Aten back then.

Having learned from his mistakes, and knowing what would come next, Aten skipped taking the ladder down, and immediately went for the jump. Of course, like what Lejin's men did, he landed on the runt, tackling him to the ground. He couldn't believe he actually managed to capture him. The situation was so convenient it came off as odd to Aten — he was always known for his bad luck.

The thieving runt struggled to escape, but his strength weighed almost to none compared to Aten's. At the moment, Aten no longer cared for his money, only the need to unmask the thief — perhaps it was intentional, from another perspective. He reached for his small revolver and pointed it at the guy, threatening him so he would stop the struggle. The little guy obeyed. Without hesitation, Aten reached for the guy's hood and pulled it off, revealing him to be—

Aten backed off in surprise.

The little guy backed away as well.

Both men stared at each other with complete shock in their eyes.

That guy was none other than Leslie Lampshire, Aten's "best friend," or so to speak, from the empire city days. It was a tremendous shock for Aten to see his friend out in the open lands of Eldria, and not to mention within this wretched town, pick-pocketing people and looking worse than a beggar. Way back in the day, Leslie wasn't recognized by the empire or its troops, in fact, he was on their danger radar for as long as he can remember, and if it wasn't for Aten, he would have been dead. Leslie used to be a Phisher, a fraud who used the hands of technology to their aid. While the rest of the world either embraced or denied the two different powers of sorcery. Leslie was one of the few who rejected both and embraced science, the new leading power in this world of fantasy — although not in the right method. However, that Leslie was long gone after Aten gave him a chance to turn to a new leaf. Before Aten was ostracized, Leslie became an anonymous grey-hat fixer who aided whoever gave him a good price (although mostly on the white-hat side to avoid conflict with the empire).

Aten helped Leslie up, as he was still in denial of actually seeing him around this town. Leslie brushed away all the dust on his clothes and gave Aten his usual sly smile, to tell him that everything was good. There were no words for them to speak properly.

Given all that was known about Leslie, what he was now, Aten hadn't the slightest idea. He never imagined that by being banished away, others who knew him would suffer for his consequences. But it wasn't entirely like that. The empire being what it was, Leslie wasn't going to last much within its cities before they had someone murder him.

'Long time no see!' Leslie tried to initiate a conversation, 'F-Funny seeing you out here—'

'Just give me my money back first!' Aten demanded, not taking any bullshit.

Without a second thought, Leslie emptied his pocket and handed Aten his pouch back. The perfect method to start a good old reunion — if you count the fact that one stole from the other.

'So…,' Aten scratched the back of his head. He wondered why Leslie ended up in this town of all places, but he didn't have the words to ask him properly. It wasn't needed, after all, Leslie immediately understood what Aten wanted to say without effort.

'It's the list, man!' Leslie started, 'You know, the list…'

'Ah…'

It was like Aten had deduced. Leslie had returned back to the empire's radar, and on their list of outsiders to make matters worse. Whoever ended on that list was forever banned to set foot in one of the empire's territories, not just the cities, making the Outlands — or other continents if they had the means — the only "safe" place for them. The empire knows no boundaries.

Seeing Leslie made Aten reminisce of the time from when he was sheltered behind the closed walls when he was just one of the empire's hunting dogs. It was a much simpler time. Swear your allegiance to the emperor, and obey the empire without question, so long as you believed in their "creed," in the truth and freedom they offered. But it was no freedom, it took Aten a long while to realize that. Freedom does not come from depriving others of it, others that rightfully deserve it. It's called control. That being said, Aten was not after freedom nor control anymore, those childlike ideals bared nothing to him. Betraying the empire made him wake up to that, yet he was not far off gone to not believe in anything. It was all worth it, he would always think, if he hadn't left, he would have preferred to die than to serve them once again. He and Leslie were now in the same boat, maybe things wouldn't be so lonely anymore, he would think.

'I um… I never expected to find you here,' Leslie broke Aten's trance, 'Here in the north, I mean. I always thought you were down in the south, away from all the ruckus and all.'

Even though Leslie never meant anything by it, his comment captured Aten's attention more than it should have. It made him think back to something he wondered about for a while. After all, he was originally far off in the south. Making it back would at least take a few days by vehicle. Yet, here he was in the north (near the empire, no less) a day after he had collapsed. Even the boys who brought him here mentioned that they were in the south at the time. None of it made sense. Whenever he thought about this, he couldn't find an answer. There was a missing piece in all of this. A missing piece that surely lied with the girl he was tied with, the very same girl who nursed him back to health, and who, although indirectly, roped him into his current situation.

But that was another matter for another time.

With an old friend by his side, Aten strolled back to the library with Leslie, like two old friends taking a walk and reminiscing of their past times together. He carefully explained his situation to him. Leslie didn't seem entirely fazed by it, he had seen much worse, despite his youthful and, almost innocent (rather mischievous), appearance.

The two made their way to the bestiary section — with no comment from the clerk, thankfully. Unfortunately, though, all the books in the bestiary were of no help at all. That was because they were looking in the wrong direction. What Aten was facing was no beast, it was a creature of the dead. Therefore, the undead section would likely fare better for them. It didn't take long to find it, or even help from the clerk — he would have charged them for it, no doubt. A peculiar book caught their attention, "Spectres of the Hundred Years, and more." was what it was called, and judging from that name, it should have had information about almost every undead there was since the aforementioned "Hundred Years" were the first hundred years since the birth of the magical alchemy. Of course, as the years passed and the mages and sorceress progressed, new types of undead emerged, that were unlikely to be mentioned in the book. There was no estimated time on when the stitchreaper was discovered, so it could very well be either from the hundred years period or after, the former being what Aten wished for.

Searching through the book's pages was of no use, not a single shred of information regarding the stitchreaper lied within. Yet, Aten was sure that this book once contained it. After all, he could not help but notice a few pages being intentionally missing, torn out entirely out of the book. The mystery resumed, but not for long, he thought. If anyone knew the truth behind this book, it would be the clerk, at least that was Aten thought. Considering this was a "library" in a low-life town, the chances of the clerk being actually informed were pretty slim, but they did exist nonetheless.

When Aten decided to ask the clerk about the missing pages, he didn't deny it at all. In fact, he proceeded to give Aten an answer with ease, which was very suspicious, as if he had an ulterior motive.

'The empire redacted most of the books you see here, they are forbidden after all, and I cannot exactly have their weekly troops trash my beloved shop for a measly thing like that,' he answered, stripping away all hope Aten had on finding anything. Seeing Aten in distress made him quite happy, but it also made him think of a way he could turn the tables around and make profit, 'But… I should tell you, dear customer of mine, that I happen to have an untouched copy that is older than the empire itself. But… it will come at a price.'

'It's always money with you, huh,' Aten scratched the back of his head, 'Alright, whatever, name your price!'

'Fifty gemmiras! No more, no less. And definitely no chance of a bargain.'

Aten was shocked and almost slammed his head against the counter from the pure rage he possessed. Fifty gemmiras was a hefty price, it was no easy money to come by. 'That's outrageous! I don't have that kind of money…'

'Then you can forget about the special copy, it is as easy as that. I run a business here, mind you.'

But it was not over yet. Leslie, Aten's unknown trump card, was finally showing what he had stored up his sleeve, literally. He dropped exactly fifty gemmira coins on the counter, each coin dropped with a cling, producing an almost harmonic sound to this waterfall of money. He narrowed his eyebrows, looked at the clerk with complete confidence (a rare occasion for him), his lips stretching upwards to the corners of his cheeks, and radiating this bizarre, yet egotistic, aura, pointing out the obvious, that he and Aten reigned victoriously. At least, that would be true from his perspective. In reality, both parties were successful in acquiring what they wanted, with the clerk being on the top, as a book weighed almost to nothing near actual money. The clerk could not believe his eyes, but he wasted no time in carefully counting every coin to make sure the amount was correct — oh, the audacity.

On the other hand, Aten wasn't shocked, but rather surprised.

'You've had all that money, yet you still tried to rob me?' He looked at Leslie with disbelief.

'You'd be surprised how much people carry in their pocket unattended,' Leslie replied with a prideful tone, even though this was nothing to be proud of.

'Oh, how low you have fallen, my friend…'

'Like you're any better. You're a goddamn trash collector for Westipis's sake!'

'But I don't steal!'

'Yeah, just because it's on the ground then it doesn't belong to anyone? You spend your days in the outlands risking your life and I make more money from bumping into people!'

'You… You just wasted all of it, you know.'

'Oh! Right…'

Instant regret loomed over Leslie's face. His eyes were twitching as if they had malfunctioned. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself he did the right thing, he would still remember that he was never going to touch that money again. Maybe this was God's way of telling him to turn over to a new leaf, again. Leslie had a twisted train of thought.

The clerk wasted no time in heading into the back room. This time he didn't come back with Lejin and his men, but instead, he came back with a derelict book in his hand. There was no need to say it out loud; it was an exact copy of the one Aten and Leslie examined back in the undead section.

Aten reached his hand out to take it from the clerk, but the clerk backed away. They didn't realize that the clerk did not exactly sell the book. There was only one rare book in his possession and he wouldn't give it away that easily in the chance that another opportunity arises. He was after profit no matter what. So, as he phrased it, he did not "sell" them the book, rather, he only "granted" them permission to "observe" the book, as if they rented it for a limited amount of time.

'You really want to piss me off, don't you?' Aten clutched his hands.

'You have to understand, I am running a business,' the clerk looked at Aten with a mischievous smile that stretched out his lips to almost his eyes on each side. 'I believe involving Lejin once again wouldn't be the best course of action, am I right?'

'I believe involving the mayor wouldn't be too… I heard you guys have an undead problem at the old mansion, right?'

The clerk blinked twice in surprise after hearing the mayor's involvement. Lejin was still out there and backed this stupid clerk, but Aten had the mayor in his back, as long as this business involved the matter he wanted to be solved, which it conveniently did. Even if Lejin was the capo and a (used-to-be) master hunter, the mayor ruled over all in his town. Lejin was like his lapdog when he confronted him.

'Now, would you kindly hand over the book? If you want it back, I'll give it to you — don't worry — when I'm done with it.'

With his back stuck to a corner, the clerk had no choice but to hand over his precious rare book to Aten. For the second time — if you count Leslie losing all his money — Aten and Leslie were able to overcome the clerk's machinations and outsmart him.

The two wasted no time in leaving the library after acquiring the book. Aten wished that would be the last time he would have to go to that library. However, a sense of uneasiness loomed over him after thinking he finally had the upper hand. Things were going well too easily. Many situations started to flood his mind. What if the clerk had seen through their plan and handed them the wrong book? What if this book was just like the other?

Before they could even move past the alleyway in which the library lied, Aten frantically opened the book on the missing pages… they were actually there, by some miracle. Relief swept back into Aten's mind. The two quickly rushed into the first secluded place they could find, away from the ruckus. Even though Leslie had little knowledge on the matter of undead creatures, he still helped Aten in looking for the stitchreaper among these creatures written within the book.

And there it was… the troublesome stitchreaper.

— Stitchreaper —

"You fear the dead. You mock the dead. You become one of the dead. But never… should you suffer the fate of becoming the dead puppet." — George Winfenrir, a necroalchemist turned neuroalchemist.

To this day (F.A.F 23-12-6718), scholars and scientists are still ignorant of the mystery of the undead world. They think they've uncovered every corner there is when, however, they haven't even scratched the surface. The public thinks of the undead as those who were once people that lost their life force as the result of experiments from necroalchemists. What they don't know is that the undead can come from anywhere and can be anything. There are no limits with the necroalchemists, which is why the power of mystical minds and science known as neuroalchemy is still at the bottom.

Here come the stitchreapers. As their name implies, they are stitched together from various undead creatures with the reaper being on the helm. Reapers are natural undead forces from the afterlife that serve into the cycle of life, away from necroalchemy. They cannot be tamed by those who practice it. That is where the hybrid known as stitchreapers come into question.

Stitchreapers are the worst of undead mutations. Not only are their human souls still conscious with no control over their bodies, as revealed by prior research, but they are also puppets to the ones that created them. They are considered summons, unholy summons. According to studies, there is a great distance between the stitchreaper and its summoner, it is able to work from a distance of twenty-five meters. That still does not discard the fact that the summoner has the ability to fully control the stitchreaper. Every action it takes is on the command of the summoner and solely the summoner.

Despite being a summon, stitchreapers still have certain conditions that need to be met in order to be fully summoned. Stitchreapers usually roam at the dawn of night, if not that, then at places that are common to the undead, due to the absence of life force. Unlike other undead creatures, it cannot consume others different from its kind, making it able to coexist with wraiths, targhouls, and remnants.

— *** —

This creature was far more complex than Aten had originally thought. The fact that the original soul was still alive and trapped was quite disturbing.

'The wraith maybe…?' Leslie read Aten's confusion over the subject, 'You think it's the summoner? Like… they're both bound by a curse.'

'Not possible!' Aten shook his head and pointed at the part related to the stitchreapers and the other undead, 'It clearly states here that it can coexist with the undead. The fact that it's true means the opposite in other areas. There is always a benefactor in a curse, sometimes a mutual one. But if both parties suffer the same fate, then there is no one. A wraith does exist, but it's only a cover. It's just like I expected it to be… there is foul play involved.'

'You sure know a lot of stuff about this?'

'Yeah, well… I've been in the Outlands for quite some time.' He flipped the pages to look for more information about the summon, 'But that's not important right now. Right now… we should focus on a way to expose the summoner and put some distance between them and the stitchreaper. But that requires us to cause a great disturbance to the summon itself.'

'Have any idea how?'

'I don't know…,' he thought back to the flowers Eeira had used against the stitchreaper, 'I mean there is a way… but it's not good enough. We need an absolute weakness.'

And with that, Westipis answered… a weakness to the mysterious summon lied before them.