Norman slumped to the ground. Jack stepped back, pressing a hand against his forehead. The dark mantle over a familiar uniform made Norman break cold sweat. As Agatha's cold purple eyes stared back at him, he felt frozen even without the spell. He knew she was much more dangerous than the dukes they had met before. She was someone from the secret division of the army, and by the badges on her jacket, a high-ranking officer at that.

"Freeze. This is Spec," Agatha announced. "What is happening here?"

Norman could not stop himself from panicking. "We did nothing!"

"...Please… help us." Andras coughed.

Agatha turned to Jack, who couldn't help but feel threatened. "And who are you?" She asked.

"Beast hunter. Jacque Gessler." Jack said, pressing his wound.

"I see." Agatha glanced at Norman and Ándras. "Tell me, Mr. Gessler, what is happening here?"

"Those two stole my car," Jack said, pointing at them. "I happened to hear where they were going, but then they attacked me again!"

"I see." Agatha raised an eyebrow. "And who are you?" She looked down at Norman.

"...Tobias Norman." Norman collected his thoughts.

"A familiar name," Agatha noted.

"We are part of the party…."

"Oh, you are from sir Lionel's party?" She realized.

Jack grimaced for a second.

"Then, could you please explain your side of the story?" Agatha asked.

"I-We got separated by the fog," Norman recalled.

"And what does that have to do with your grand theft auto?" Agatha frowned. She turned her face to Ándras. "Why is that man chained?"

"That man, he kidnapped Ándras," Norman explained. "I didn't know what to do, so I took the car and escaped here. Please, you got to help him. He's dying."

"This is more complex than I wanted." Agatha sighed. She looked at the wounds on both Norman and Ándras, while Jack had barely any. The balance of injuries was off.

"Mr.Gessler, did you shoot these people?" Agatha asked.

"They startled me! I came looking for them and they jumped at me!"

"Bullshit! You ambushed us!" Norman snapped.

Agatha was getting bored watching the two argue against each other and took the initiative.

"These two are unarmed. Why didn't you handle the situation more carefully?" She asked.

"I was terrified, ma'am. They have magic, so they wouldn't need a gun to hurt me. Just look what they did to my hand!"

"Then tell me, Mr. Gessler, why does that man have a restriction collar?"

"...I have no idea." Jack gulped.

"Really? I could not see a mage putting one on by themselves. I do have heard that magic beast hunters use them."

Jack quietly reached for his hidden gun. "I don't put collars on people!"

"I never said that it was yours."

"Um, well...I did have one in my car. They could have put it on by themselves."

"I see. I thought they were harder to put on than that." Agatha glanced at the weapon on the ground. "What does a beast hunter need a pistol for?"

Jack gritted his teeth under the fainting smile. Agatha seemed to react whenever he tried to reach for his gun. Jack needed to wait for a moment that her attention was somewhere else if he would take her out.

"Erm, you see-" He mumbled.

"Excuse me, but my friend is dying over here!" Norman lay next to Ándras.

"Making such a racket." Agatha sighed. "Here, this should help."

With her hand hovering above Ándras, Agatha chanted her magic. Norman didn't notice anything too different until he felt Ándras' heartbeat. It beat slowly, like a small lung. Each beat lasted more than a second, and the blood flow slowed down.

"He should be stable for a while longer, but you need to call some paramedics." She said.

As her back was turned, Jack drew his weapon. Without missing a beat, he aimed at the back of her head and pulled the trigger.

A shot rang past the streets. The bullet sliced through the air as Jack's cheeks rose to a gleeful smile. He could see the bullet traveling towards Agatha's head. Then he noticed the used shell, still hovering in the air. It had stopped, as was he. With his finger still on the trigger, Jack noticed Agatha move. With his eyes forced open, he watched Agatha calmly turn her head. She stared down at him with the most horrific sneer possible. Her purple eyes lit by the blast, Agatha sprung her fist up to his jaw and sent him flying. Norman blinked when he heard the shot and it was already over by the time his eyes opened. There was jack, still flying. He was fixed in the air, slowly recoiling from the hard uppercut. The bullet was still spinning in the air, right next to Agatha's head. It passed her by a hair's length and hit the wall on the other side of the street. Only then Jack finally landed face-first on the asphalt.

"You are under arrest." Agatha took out a pair of handcuffs.

"Ma'am, is everything alright?" Fleming ran towards them from down the street. Heaving and puffing, he finally arrived on the scene.

"Everything is quite alright," Agatha said.

"You got off the car before I could say anything." Fleming was still catching his breath. "What happened?"

"You ask them. I merely caught this man trying to blow my brain matter to the streets." Agatha lifted Jack by the cuffs. "These two said they are part of the party."

"Well, at least we found them."

"Could you do something? Ándras is still dying over here!" Norman shouted.

"Let's see." Fleming sat down. He observed around the bullet wound and saw that the skin had started losing color. "Nope, there's not much we can do about this. The nearest hospital is too far away."

"But can you get the collar off?" Norman pointed out.

"I mean, I could, but what would that help?" Fleming asked.

"Just do it!"

"Fine, alright. If he can hold out for a few minutes, I can fetch the skeleton key." Fleming stood up.

After returning, Fleming presented a thin key carved from a single bone. Skeleton keys could be summarized as hard to make, expensive to purchase, but easy to use. They were popular with authorities because of their ability to grant access to any mechanical lock. It seemed so slim that it would snap when turned, but the only thing that snapped was the lock.

"There, it should come off now." Fleming stashed the key in his pocket.

Even as the collar came off, Ándras did not seem well. The rain poured down on his pale face, making him shiver. The blood was washed away by the rain, not that there was much left.

"Ándras, Ándras!" Norman shook the lifeless body.

"...Norman." Ándras groaned.

"Wait, right. He needs more light." Norman realized.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fleming asked.

"He can't heal without it."

"It's the middle of the night. Good luck finding any." Fleming shrugged.

Norman looked at the palm of his hand. "I know one way."

"Whatever it is, make it quick. We need to hurry to the castle, right, ma'am?"

"There is no rush. Our ride will take us there." Agatha said.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Fleming snapped his fingers. "We found your buddy."

"You mean Orel? Is he alright?" Norman asked.

"Looked alright."

"Where is he?"

"He went to the castle with the Frogfoot."

Norman noticed a bit of uneasiness in Fleming as he finished the sentence. "Is everything okay there?"

"To put it mildly, no. We don't know the whole situation, but it sounds like the terrorists made a beeline there and attacked the castle."

"Fleming, no more words." Agatha raised her finger.

"Oh, sorry. Pretend you didn't hear that." Fleming shook his hands.

"...Can we go with you?"

"No." Agatha stepped in. "We cannot allow bystanders to interrupt our mission."

"Just take us there, and we'll try to search for him."

"Ma'am." Fleming leaned in. "They are on our search list. We kinda want to have them secured somewhere."

Agatha rolled her eyes behind her eyelids, not to announce her disagreement, but to think deeply about their options.

"Let us talk about this after I hand this one to the police. Meanwhile, you make haste with whatever you are trying to do. There is not much time to waste." Agatha pulled Jack away like a sack of rocks.

"I think it went like this," Norman began the chant. "Scorching flames that burn to the bone, light as gods had it created, blind them, bring it here..."

Watching Agatha walk away, Fleming felt something warm behind him. Then a flash of light.

"What the hell is that?" Fleming stumbled as he noticed the fireball.

"A little spell I got." Norman grinned.

A burning ball of light grew larger than a car, looming above Norman. Ándras could feel its heat revitalizing him, sealing his wounds and returning color to his skin. It was still much smaller than Daniel's version, but it was enough.

"You better heal already!" Norman huffed. "I don't know how that bastard could use this for so long."

Meanwhile, the chained Jack felt hopeless, getting dragged to prison. While he didn't care how he lived his life, Jack felt reminded of who he was doing this for. If he were going down, so would Annabelle. That would not do. Jack had his last resort. A filling of the second molar was not a drug but something that would certainly help in a pinch. He reminded himself to never use it unless it was between life and death. Separation from Annabelle was worse than death for him. Thus he bit in.

Agatha noticed that Jack had stopped. Looking closer his mouth was foaming and growling. His skin trembled and stretched. The muscles underneath grew times in size, breaking his chains. Silver hairs grew and covered his new form. The dark moonlight gave shadows to a creature barely wrapped in his previous clothes. Armed with sharp claws, bone-crushing jaws, and powerful muscles, Jack howled in his new form.

"A werewolf?" Agatha stepped back.

"...For…Annabelle…" Jack muttered.

Seeing the beast getting ready to bounce, Agatha activated her spell. "Time-turner!"

"Ma'am, don't!" Fleming yelled.

Before she could hear what he was saying, Jack bounced forward. His movement barely slowed down. Agatha could not dodge in time. The claws cut her arm open. The wound was deep and made the hand almost unusable, save that it didn't snap any tendons.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" Fleming stayed away.

"I see how it is. He infected himself with lycanthropy." Agatha tended her wound.

"Who would ever do such a thing?" Fleming asked.

"Someone desperate enough." Agatha frowned.

Norman heard the conversation. "I have heard of werewolves. Their hide is magic resistant, but only during the night."

"Contracting such a vile curse voluntarily. The man must be insane." Agatha dodged away.

"Can't you turn them back?" Fleming asked.

"With treatment, but only in the early stages. We need to put him down."

"Ándras could help, but I need to heal him first," Norman said.

"This is not my forte either," Fleming said.

"...Die!" Jack growled.

"Run! I'll handle this!" Agatha yelled.

Agatha prepared herself for the worst by wrapping her arm, but could not stop the bleeding. The beast jumped forward with its jaw wide open and claws ready to render flesh.

"Bite me!" Agatha offered her hand with a crazed smile.

A whistling sound echoed above. Then it came down. Jack smashed to the ground with tremendous force, crackling the pavement. A cloud of dust rose. From it appeared a man that stood on top of the beast, closing his umbrella.

"Wilde!" Agatha noticed.

"Sorry, ma'am. We took a bit longer than expected." Wilde jumped down. "You weren't at the rendezvous point, so I looked around."

"you arrived just in time." Agatha nodded.

"And I thought we were toast." Fleming sighed.

Norman stopped his spell as Ándras stood up. The bullets dropped to the ground as his wounds closed up.

"How are you feeling?" Norman asked.

"Fine, thanks to you."

"You better not do that again. I don't think I have the mana to use that spell again."

"Who are those two?" Wilde looked over.

"Those are the missing party members," Fleming said.

"I see. Then what's this thing?" Wilde kicked him.

"Some lunatic." Fleming shrugged.

"We still need to secure him." Agatha reminded.

"Why don't you use this collar?" Norman suggested.

"That will have to make do for now."

"I will go fetch it," Fleming said.

"Is it dead?" Wilde kept kicking. "I might have gone a bit rough on him. I increased my weight as much as possible. Maybe to a ton or two."

"Be careful around him-"

Agatha could barely finish the sentence as Jack stood up. He jumped before Wilde had the time to raise his head.

"Don't let him run away!" Agatha ordered.

"Wow!" Wilde watched Jack go.

With each step, Jack leaped tens of meters forward. Before Wilde could even jump, he was gone.

Agatha breathed out. "I will write a report on him. We have his face and name. There are more serious matters we need to attend to."

"What?" Wilde asked.

"I will explain on the way." Agatha walked.

"Are those two coming with us?" Wilde pointed.

"Sigh, yes."

"Are we going to see Orel?" Ándras asked.

"Hope so." Norman kept walking.

A dark office lit barely by a white screen loomed in the darkness. A hooded man leaned back in a chair, trying to get a nap in between his work. It had been hours since he had a break, but he was not done yet. His work had barely begun. The only thing keeping him awake was responsibility, money, and coffee.

A pop-up appeared. Someone was calling him.

"Who is this?" The man clicked on the screen.

"Mr. Mauve." An encrypted voice echoed from the screen.

"Oh, right." The man straightened his back.

"Have you researched into it?" They asked.

"No, I haven't had the time yet." The man sighed.

"I thought you had connections?"

"These things need time. I'm a private business, not a central intelligence network."

"And I hired you because you could access things like that." The voice sighed. "Do you have the information I requested?"

"Yes, that's pretty much the only thing I could manage at this time."

"Well?"

"The towns you mentioned. I checked the files and four names came up. I sent them to you."

The voice had a small window of silence.

"I see. Have you shared this information with anyone?"

"No, You're the first to hear this from me. This is stuff that Spec and ADF have probably checked already."

"Is there anything else we should know about them?"

"They didn't first seem to have anything written about them, but I got a few leads from other sources. I also have some interesting reports you might want to look into."

"Concerning what?"

"Have you heard of the brotherhood of White?"

"I cannot say I haven't. I thought we had cleared most of them out by now."

"I have some info about them buying stuff off of the Black Cauldron."

"But where could they be hiding?"

"You did not hear this from me, but the clergy seems to have made deals with some outsider families."

"You don't suppose that-"

"All I am saying is that these fellows suddenly got their certificates and placements at the same time. A bit too nice for a coincidence, don't you think?"

"The church is such a hard thing to investigate. No way to go about it officially."

"Yeah, there's not too much data going around. Those priests keep their secrets mouth to mouth. Good luck with that."

"Thank you, Marcus."

"No worries, 'Mr. Mauve'. I will have the rest you paid for done by the morning."

Agatha stopped the call. "Forgive me. I had to make a call." She walked back to the group.

"We're ready, ma'am," Conrad stood up.

"Good, we shall embark immediately."

"Is the car going to be fast enough?" Norman asked.

"We are not going by car." Agatha corrected with a smug smile.

Inside the castle, Diarmuid made his way to the stairs. Behind him was destruction, hole after hole in precious antique walls.

"I hope sir Lionel's insurance covers this." He glanced back.

Diarmuid found himself in yet another hallway. Like the previous ones, this one was also full of undead gurgling. Though killing them was far from difficult, it started to tire him out. He sliced through them with ease, drenching himself in blood. Just as he was about to cut another one, one of his runes lit up along with a burning sensation. He rolled away and kept his distance from the horde.

"A burn?" He felt his forearm. "Who is there?"

"Damn, you found me out." A voice said from the crowd. "Guess there's no point in hiding."

A person stepped from the group, wearing a stolen security guard outfit. A young man smiled ominously with blood splattered all over his slim face and shining blond hair. Two strains of braids on each side of his face hung like nooses, with tips tipped in blood like paintbrushes. His eyes glimmered like red gemstones, yet with sharp edges that you wouldn't want to cut your hands with.

"A bit rude to try and kill someone without even introducing yourself, don't you think?" Diarmuid said.

"Sorry, but I don't believe in those old-time manners. Whatever. The name is Tuatcnoc."

"Interesting name. Are you from here?"

"You like asking questions. Shouldn't you tell your name?"

"Nope. I'm not stupid enough to give my name to an enemy."

"Guess I fell to that trick." Tuatcnoc shrugged.

"Not that I trust that to be your real name."

"You're right about that."

"But what's a young buck like yourself being a terrorist?" Diarmuid asked.

"Isn't it said that the youth are the future, old man?" Tuatcnoc sneered.

"With that kind of life choice, the only future you have is in prison."

"You old people never understand." Tuatcnoc shook his head. "The world never changes with your cogs and rules. Your rules, people, society, all of it is so old."

"Don't lump me with those sorts of people. The world isn't perfect, but there are better ways to go around it than this. I'm also not old. I'm twenty-one."

"Yeesh, then I only need to feel sorry for your face."

"So, are you going to come nicely, or do I need to teach you a lesson?" Diarmuid cracked his knuckles.

"Well, I was going to try and murder all of you."

"Then try a bit harder."

"Oh, I'll show you." Tuatcnoc's face wrinkled with anger.

Diarmuid kept his distance. Both of them were close-range fighters. Whatever the effect of Tuatcnoc's Nazar was, Diarmuid did not want to find out. The only tools in his use were a combat knife and a gun, but that was all he needed.

Tuatcnoc touched one of the undead. It started running towards Diarmuid, who readied himself. As the zombie came closer, it jumped in the air. Diarmuid dodged to not get pinned down. Yet, the zombie suddenly inflated like a water balloon and exploded. Diarmuid covered his face as blood and bone splinters burst out. His runes blocked most of the damage, but the blood still burnt his skin.

"Odd, I was sure you'd become a pincushion," Tuatcnoc said.

"I'm made tougher than most." Diarmuid poked a splinter from under his eye.

"Cut the shit. I can see those runes on your arm, Erilaz."

"And me your Nazar." Diarmuid looked at the glowing red eyes.

"Yeah, these are some real shit," Tuatncoc rubbed his fingertip on the pupil, smearing blood on it.

"Nasty, and in more ways than one." Diarmuid thought. "He heated the blood in those zombies to make them explode."

"Looks like I need to rip those runes out of your hands!" Tuatcnoc charged forward with the zombies.

Diarmuid had had enough and pulled out his pistol. The zombies stopped like regular people when you shot them in the head. Diarmuid shot the zombies down but noticed that Tuatcnoc was gone. There was a hole in the wooden floor as if the floorboards had eroded.

"Where are you, smartass?" Diarmuid looked around.

The hole seemed suspicious, so Diarmuid carefully walked next to it. The blanks bent down, and the inside material gave away like punching a hole through wet paper.

Diarmuid took the risk and looked down. Sure enough, Tuatcnoc was there, hanging from a chandelier on the floor below.

"Heh, would you know? The floor is pretty thin." Tuatcnoc smiled desperately.

Diarmuid shot with his free hand. The bullets lodged in Tuatcnoc's clothes, and he fell to the lower floor.

Diarmuid jumped down with the help of the chandelier. It was the ballroom on the first floor, with a shining enamel floor and more than enough room to spare. Diarmuid kept away from the body. He saw it twitching, and not a second later, the man sprung to life and screamed in pain. There was no blood whatsoever apart from what was already on him.

"Aw, fuck! You shot me! You really shot me!" Tuatcnoc complained like a child.

Diarmuid shot him in the head. The bullet bounced off, leaving only a red mark.

"Ow, that hurt, you know?" Tuatcnoc rubbed his forehead. "Aren't you going to arrest me or something?"

"I see. You can change the material composition of things." Diarmuid noticed that Tuatcnoc's eye color had changed to green.

"Softening a bullet is one thing, but it still hurts like a motherfucker." Tuatcnoc frowned.

"Clean your mouth before I blow it off."

"How about you shut the fuck up."

"As you wish." Diarmuid shot again.

Tuatcnoc's head recoiled back and forth like a hula doll. "I'm starting to get really tired of you."

"Then at least try and impress me." Diarmuid waved his finger.

"How about this?" Tuatcnoc slammed his foot to the ground.

The wooden panels vibrated like waves. Diarmuid had trouble keeping his balance on the rippling wood.

"Don't you catch a cold without shoes?" Diarmuid noticed.

"Drop dead!" Tuatcnoc kicked the ground.

Diarmuid felt his feet sink into the wood as if it was made of honey. When he tried stepping out, his other foot sunk in deeper. He could not pull himself out as everything around him was soft like butter.

"That's more like it! Drown in your shit, just like the others!" Tuatcnoc laughed manically.

"Heh." Diarmuid laughed.

Diarmuid stopped sinking, though he was still neck deep in the floor. Tuatcnoc stared blankly as a smirking policeman foiled his master plan.

"What's wrong? Did a fish bite your tongue?" Diarmuid asked.

"What did you do?" Tuatcnoc flailed his hands.

Diarmuid looked around, whistling.

"Hey." Tuatcnoc snapped his fingers. "I'm talking to you."

"Oh, sorry, I was taking a piss." Diarmuid pulled his zipper up.

Tuatcnoc's face turned red. "Take me seriously!"

"It's really hard to do that since you lot are such a joke, honestly. Goodbye for now." Diarmuid took a deep breath and sank underneath the surface.

"Wait, what?" Tuatcnoc ran to the spot. "He drowned himself. No, he can't be that stupid." He scratched his head."Largaoth, I'm in the first-floor hall. Is there anyone alive underneath me?"

"...There is."

"That coward slipped down to the lower floor!" Tuatcnoc was about to jump in. "Wait, did he really piss in it? Was that part of his plan so I wouldn't follow him? I'll show him that I'm not scared of getting my hands dirty!" He jumped in like a swimmer, holding his nose shut.

Inside the molten floor was complete darkness. From that darkness, something stabbed Tuatcnoc to his side. After the initial surprise, he realized he was outplayed. Diarmuid hadn't escaped down a layer; he waited underneath by holding on to a pipe that hadn't melted down. Tuatcnoc tried to swim up, but Diarmuid grabbed his leg.

"Seriously? Is he trying to drown us both?" He thought.

Tuatcnoc had to reveal the last card up his sleeve.

"Kaleidoscope: Double Ombre!" Tuatcnoc chanted as his other eye turned red.

Searing heat enveloped Diarmuid's hand from the foot he was gripping. It was like putting your arm inside an oven. His runes could not help him. He could not let Tuatcnoc escape, but the heat in his arm rose with each second.

"Give up already! Are you ready to lose your arm? I'm not going to lose to some old fuck! I got my life ahead of me! I need to change the world! I need to taste some of that sap wine and get some of those gummies! After we get hold of this place, I can do whatever I want! We'll be free! I want to be free!"

Tuatcnoc's smile waned with a sudden realization.

"My thoughts are running wild now, huh? How long has it been? Isn't this dangerous? No, I don't want to die! I don't want to..."

Diarmuid had only one goal. If his hand would burn to a crisp, he would simply use his other hand while holding on to the pipe with his legs. Even his air was running short, but not before Tuatcnoc stopped resisting. The Nazar's effect was undone, and the two rose back to the floor. Though only one of them stood up, and it was Diarmuid.