Orel woke up to the concerned faces of Ándras and Diarmuid.

"Now you've done it." Diarmuid shook his head. "They still had the bed empty from your last visit."

Numb from sedatives, Orel could hardly move in the bed. His right arm dragged along sluggishly, yet the left could not move at all. He looked down at it, but could only see the tips of his fingers at the end of the large cast. They were pale and had little to no feeling, much like the whole arm. It was like a foreign object, a weight hanging from his shoulder.

"The doctors said that you were lucky the cut was so clean. You're going to be alright." Ándras said.

"For now, that is." Diarmuid butted in. "I didn't come here for a suicide mission. At least I got the job, but I'm taking a larger share."

Orel lifted himself against the back of the bed with great effort. "I don't care about the money. I need to see Norman."

Diarmuid watched as Orel tried to wiggle himself straight. "You can't even get out of bed."

"That won't stop me," Orel said, grasping the side frame with his right arm.

"You're going to die at this rate."

"Then I'll die trying." Orel tried to pull himself into a sitting position.

Orel's eyes still glowed with the dark blue flame of ambition. It startled Diarmuid, as the glare reminded him of the lords he served. But what terrified him the most was the glimpse of his little brother he saw in those eyes.

"You know what? If you can't go on without seeing your friend, then I have to-"

Orel lowered his gaze back to his arm. "I understand."

"Get you there." Diarmuid continued.

"What?" Orel thought he misheard.

"To meet him, nothing more. I won't take part in any great heist to get him out."

Orel smiled. It was the warmest smile Diarmuid had seen in a while.

"Thank you, Diarmuid." The blueish flame was gone from his eyes.

Diarmuid tried not to crack a smile. He did not want to make them any more excited.

"You're a real swell guy, you know that?" Ándras smiled.

"Don't think too much of it. Whether I stay or not, I'm not sure." Diarmuid crossed his arms. "But that aside, who did this to you?"

"I got caught by these two guys. They asked me about your job, about William." Orel thought back.

"Must have been about the gang." Diarmuid thought. "What happened to them?"

"I got rid of the other, and the other escaped," Ándras explained.

"That's not good. What if he comes back?" Diarmuid said.

"It wasn't like we let him," Orel tried to shrug, yet his shoulders were sore.

"I need to ask that William guy what this is all about." Diarmuid brushed his sideburns. "You can stay there."

"How long?" Orel asked.

"Doctors gave you three months, not counting the physical."

Orel's eyes sank. "Three months?"

"Is there anything to be done?" Ándras asked.

"We could find a healer, but that will cost us time and money."

"Isn't there one at the hospital?"

"Let's just say that the private sector pays better."

"Still, I can't sit around for that long." Orel slumped down.

"Try and figure something out. I'm off to work." Diarmuid walked out. "Don't worry, I'm used to working two jobs. Give me a call when you need me."

"Sure." Orel waved with his other hand. "What about you, Ándras?"

"I'm staying here." Ándras dragged a chair next to the bed. "I'll watch over you from now on." He sat down.

"Isn't that a bit too much?"

"I let you get hurt. I won't let it happen again."

"It wasn't your fault." Orel lay down. "But I won't mind if you're okay with it."

"I can also go get you some snacks." Ándras nodded at the door.

"Can I even eat those?"

"I'm sure the nurses won't mind." Ándras laughed. "I'll get you some now." He stood up.

Orel thought to himself. "Wait, could you do something else?"

"What, you want something from the supermarket?" Ándras turned.

"No, not that." Orel shook his head. "There's someone that can help us find that healer."

"Wait, who?"

"Lisa. Norman's sister."

Ándras' lips curled into a sour frown as he leaned against a wall. "About that."

"What?" Orel sensed something was wrong.

"We already tried that."

"And?"

"She didn't let us in."

"Why?" Orel didn't understand.

Ándras shrugged.

"Let me talk to her." Orel tried climbing out of the bed.

"You aren't going anywhere." Ándras pushed him back. "You need to rest."

"I need to know! She was so nice to us before! Did something happen?"

Ándras tapped Orel's shoulder. "All I know is that she isn't glad about this either."

Orel dropped back into the bed. "Is it because of us? Because of Norman?"

"Don't blame yourself."

"I'm just here to see my friend." Orel grasped the sheets with his hand. "What's wrong with that?"

Ándras smiled out of relief. "I don't mind the bright sun, but your optimism still blinds me." He walked to the door. "Take a breather. I'll go get you something."

"Sure. I do feel a bit drained." Orel closed his eyes and lay his head on the pillow.

Ándras couldn't help but feel thankful that Orel could still sleep soundly. After all that happened, it was a miracle he did not have nightmares haunting him in his sleep.

Ocham woke in his father's lap, watching the furnace burn with a soft yet immense heat.

"See this blade, Ocham?" His father lifted a small, dark blade out of the furnace with a pair of tongs. "I will name it Razor edge."

"Wow!" The young Ocham wondered in awe.

His father patted him on the head with his glove, smearing it with ash. Ocham wasn't bothered, as this was one of the few times he was with his father.

"This blade isn't for sale, however." The father, Helios, reminded.

"Then what for?" Ocham looked up at his father's burned-up beard.

"It's for you, son." Helios smiled with his ashen face. "You and you only."

"Really?" Ocham's eyes gleamed with excitement.

"When you're old enough." Helios poked his nose and turned it black.

Ocham woke up in his dirty, moldy bed after a drop of water hit his nose. "Another dream." He lifted himself from the bed, stretched, and head out of the door.

Walking in the streets under a disguise with a mixed whiff of cologne and sewage wandering off of him, Ocham wandered to the meeting place. This time, it was a rather luxurious mansion on the lower northern hills. A long, dark fence with spiked gates surrounded a lofty front yard garden. No guards stood for him, but a small electric buzzer.

Ocham pressed the buzzer, which rang a small noise. After a small moment, a speaker with a camera on top turned on with static.

"Who is it?" A dry voice asked.

Ocham looked into the camera through his mask. "Roundabout."

"God's diary."

"...Spiral staircase."

The gates opened and Ocham passed through the garden. Though he was wary as he felt being watched, nothing came of it, and he passed inside. The lavish interior was full of glamor and color, yet felt dull like a furniture shop. There was no one to escort him, but Ocham could safely assume the correct path from the few open doors.

Waiting for him in a rather large chamber was a group of six, most of which he could recognize from the selection process. There was Diarmuid, a strong yet cunning druid; Theresa, the sanguine artist, and Brian Sinatra, the blue-eyed charmer having a casual conversation over a table. Away from them were the double bandits, Coco and Laté, looking skeptically at the group. Lastly was the frail, pale ghost of a man in a droopy suit sitting alone, biting his fingernails. Ocham did not recognize him from anywhere, but even more peculiar was the fact that he was there among those people. Ocham was not stupid enough to underestimate any of them, rather thinking they would be at least his level.

A set of doors to the right opened. A lanky, refined yet horribly scarred man walked inside with his hands in the pockets of his star-themed suit and chest bursting with pride. His smile was at least as wide as the horrid scar running across his face. The man demanded everyone's attention, which they gave to him without a second thought.

"Looks like you're all here." He lifted his dark sunglasses on top of his asymmetrical blue hair. While the other side was brushed neatly to the side like a wave, the other ran wild like an unkempt bush. "Sup, bodyguards?"

The group glanced at each other, out of words.

"You can call me Ace. Spada sent me to deliver a truth bomb to 'yall." He took a formal letter and a pair of narrow reading glasses out of his pocket. He put the glasses on the tip of his nose as he lifted his chin to declare its contents. " Listen to me. This is your final test. Defeat this glorious man. Signed, Oliver Spada."

"Meaning you?" Brian asked.

"Yours truly." Ace put his glasses out and dropped his sunglasses back on. "A bit of a warning: None of y'all can hold a stick against me."

"We'll see about that." Diarmuid cracked his knuckles.

Brian walked in front of Theresa. "You can stand back, lady. Let me take care of this."

Theresa pulled out a small paintbrush from her bun of green hair. "I won't back down."

"I do like a woman with spice." Brian flashed his teeth with a grin.

"Gee, this is gonna hurt." The shaken man scratched the side of his head.

"Are you alright?" Diarmuid asked. "What's your name?"

"S-Savian." He said brushing back the few strands of hair left in his head. "I-I'm fine, thanks."

Ocham walked silently to the group. He could tell that Diarmuid had his eyes on him the moment he entered the room.

"Hey, William, was it?" Diarmuid asked.

"Yes, and you were?"

"Diarmuid."

"Of course." Ocham nodded.

"Listen. I have some questions for you."

"I see." Ocham grasped the knife in his pocket.

"But let's handle this thing first." Diarmuid nodded at Ace.

"Agreed."

"What's all this whispering? If you aren't going to hit me, then I will!" Ace zoomed in.

The group had no time to react. All they could see was Diarmuid being slammed against the wall, and Ace standing in his place. Diarmuid's runes protected him, but he still got blasted like a football at kickoff.

"I like to start with the big guys first," Ace said while cracking his neck. "Who's next?"

"So it's on." Coco took out his pistol and aimed it

"Right." Laté did the same, glaring at Ace.

Ace glanced at Brian, taken back by the sudden charge.

"Fear not, my lady! I shall blow this menace away with my-" Brian gasped his lungs full. "Ultra Magnifico!" He sang with a bellowing voice that made the whole room vibrate.

The blast wave targeted Ace and pushed him back from the group. Others plugged their ears to not have them burst. Ace held his hands against his ears as well, but did not seem that bothered by the situation.

"There, shoot him!" Laté yelled.

"Aye aye," Coco pulled the trigger.

"You think you can get me with a regular gun?" Ace grinned.

Diarmuid had barely recovered from his impact as he heard the shot. The bullet passed where Ace was, but he was not there anymore. He was in front of Brian, having jabbed him in the throat to silence him. Diarmuid thought his mind was playing tricks on him. At no point did he see Ace take a step from his position. Ace sensed danger. He disappeared just as the bullet was about to hit his back.

"Damn it," Laté grunted. His face suddenly dropped. "Wait, Coco! Watch out!"

Coco shot behind him as soon as he heard a sound. Yet, there was nothing there. Laté aimed before him and pressed the trigger. Ace disappeared as soon as he appeared and the bullet passed him.

"So that's game," Ace appeared back at the doors, clapping his hands. "Future sight and mind reading. Not a bad combo."

"He read us like a book." Laté frowned.

"We never told our abilities to the judges," Coco added.

"It takes a bit of brain to figure out, but no spell is too complex to understand." Ace tapped his head.

Brian coughed and felt around his hurt throat. "But the cat is out of the bag for you as well, you sly teleporter."

"We'll see about that." Ace grinned.

"I will take you down." Ocham stepped up.

"Give it your best shot." Ace gestured to bring it on.

"I can help," Diarmuid suggested.

"You stay out of this." Ocham retorted.

Ocham threw his stiletto in the air, where it stopped, and pointed straight at Ace, who observed the situation calmly.

"150 feet, one minute." Ocham chanted.

The dagger shot forward like a bullet. Ace shrugged and appeared elsewhere before it could as much as touch him. Yet, the dagger dodged around with sharp, 90-degree turns back at Ace. He moved again and the knife followed.

"Trying to tire me out?" Ace said, "But that doesn't help if I just come for you!" He appeared before Ocham, who had backed himself against a wall.

Ocham blocked his strike, just in time. Ocham had already figured out another part of his spell. imperceptibly, Ace would twist his fingers in a certain way, crossing them over each other, as he would prepare to teleport. With sharp eyes and attention to detail gathered from picking up years of gambling cues, Ocham could notice such small changes. Ace meanwhile could barely have time to hit Ocham once, then teleport away to pull the knife further from him and then go in again. His opportunities were limited and short between the constant dodging and striking, which tired him quickly. Ocham blocked his strikes calmly yet swiftly, but could not land any of his own, not that he needed to.

"You think you've won?" Ace said with a hint of anger as he appeared in the center of the room.

Ocham tensed up. Not because of the threat, but because he noticed how Ace twisted his fingers differently. By that point, it was too late. He suddenly appeared in the center of the room. Before he could get himself against a wall, Ace ambushed him and delivered a strong blow to his side. Yet, Ace continued his hits until Ocham could finally block him. It was then that Ocham realized it. His knife was gone. Just as he was about to look for it, Ace put up his hand where the blade vibrated relentlessly in his firm grip. He walked to the finely decorated wall and stabbed the thing deep inside it until it couldn't wiggle itself out of there.

"Winning is not about knowing how to play, but knowing how to bluff," He said as he went in for another punch.

Ocham could not escape. He would only find himself back at the center of the room, where Ace would assault him unpredictably. Though he used Ward, the punches were heavy like sledgehammers.

"You made your point, so can't we call it already? We're both quite beat already." Ocham huffed in a protective pose.

"Giving up?" Ace stopped.

"No, I'm warning you." Ocham reached into his pockets.

Ace was varied, yet did not expect what Ocham would pull out. It was the knife, which Ocham immediately threw in the air.

Just as the blade would attack him, Ace twisted his fingers. "Really with the same old tricks?" Ace shrugged as the knife appeared in his hand. "What were you thinking?"

"Thinking how to beat you, and now I know how." Ocham smiled.

"Oh? Then try to entertain me in those clown clothes!" Ace stabbed the knife into the wall.

As the blade hit and ruined the wall, it disappeared. At that moment Ocham realized his mistake. He was the one being misled. He turned his head back to Ocham, where a dozen blades floated around Ocham, pointing straight at him. Even three would have been too much to handle, let alone twelve.

"So this was the ace in your sleeve," Ace smile anxiously. "Fine then, give me all you've got!"

"150 feet, ten seconds." Ocham chanted.

Ocham had not figured out all about Ace's spell, but with his experiments, proved the necessary details that would let him win. Firstly, Ace could only teleport things a certain distance or space. That is why he would not simply teleport his knife out of the room and out of range but catch and then immobilize it. Secondly, he could only teleport things he could see. The timing when Ace teleported Ocham to the center and caught the blade seemed only to be when both of them were in his field of view. However, it could only be proved if Ocham chose to reveal his trump card. It was a gamble, but fortunately, Ocham enjoyed the thrill.

However fast Ace warped around the room, the barrage of blades was relentless. He had no time to spare to hit Ocham, and the constant use of his spell was draining him dry. There was no escape, or rather, it was the only answer. In the end, Ace backed into the doorway. the blades followed, yet stopped right as they were about to turn his body into a shish kebab. Not a moment later they dissipated into nothingness as the timer was up.

"Alright, that's enough." He heaved. "Phew, I'm pooped."

"Was that satisfactory?" Ocham asked.

"I would have rather seen all of you in action, but if even one of you is as good as this guy, Mr. Spada will be pleased," Ace said while wiping the sweat off his face. "After all, that's me."

A confused silence ensued.

"...You're the real Oliver Spada?" Diarmuid asked.

"The one and only." Ace put up a grin. "Oliver is my pro name, but everyone calls me Ace, but that's Mr. Ace for you."

"So, Mr. Ace, did we pass?" Ocham asked.

"I already said so." Ace shrugged. "Welcome on board."

"So, when are we going to see the, er, client?" Diarmuid asked.

"Yeah, the moon veil princess or whatever she's called," Coco said while putting down his gun.

"As luck would have it. She and our client will arrive today. We have a meeting scheduled for tonight about the preparation. You aren't invited, however."

"How do you intent us to protect a lady we have not seen for ourselves?" Brian asked.

"This is a high-end meeting. Surely since you've stuck with this for long enough to know. We are here to protect the daughter of the Emperor of The Three Kingdoms. The guy is a real big shot and won't let just anyone protect his daughter. They have their guards, and you're going to be split to fill in their preventive, protective, and response teams."

"Sounds about what you would expect." Laté nodded.

"So, let's all just go along, do our job and get a load of some dirty eastern cash for us?" Ace proposed.

"Alright," Diarmuid crossed his arms.

"A fine deal indeed." Brian agreed.

"And the pay better be good," Theresa reminded.

"Let's hope everything goes well," Savian smiled nervously.

Ocham said nothing. After all, the hardest challenge was only ahead.

The desert wind swirled the sand around like waves of water. The dry air heated up by the scorching sun ahead felt like fire in the lungs. A lone figure sat on a rock above the sand, looking over to a great ravine in the distance with their hands crossed under the long sleeves. His glasses flickered in the sunlight like headlights, and his blonde hair dripped with sweat.

"So, how does it look?" A woman wrapped in white rags asked from below, shifting her frilly hair to not get it in her eyes.

The man scratched his stubble. "A hole."

The woman looked utterly unimpressed under her veil. "Well, what are we going to do next?"

"We wait for Catori and others." The man took a sip from his waterskin.

"Can't we do that in the shade?"

"Do you see any?"

The woman looked around. Sand and dunes stretched far into the west, while mountains awaited them in the east.

"Do mirages count?"

"These rocks are cooler than you might think. Have a seat."

"Ugh, you're hopeless." The woman sat down in its shade.

Using his hand for shade, the man looked far into the distance. "There they are."

Three figures walked silently to the man. One of them was twice as large as the two and full of dark grey fur.

"So, how did it go?" The man asked.

"It was a hard act. The inverted spiral of Babel is as tightly protected as I have heard." Catori sniffed his long snout. "But my A-Double fooled them nonetheless."

"Then, did you get it?" The man turned to the two men.

"They almost got us, but we managed to get out thanks to my intellect." The first one said, proudly brushing his mustaches.

"It's because of you we almost got caught!" The other was ready to pull out his beard.

"Don't start." The woman broke off the two.

The man hopped down. "But did you find it?"

The two men glanced anxiously at each other.

"Sorry," They apologized.

The man took out his glasses to rub his eyes. "That was a month of planning down to the gutter."

"We are never going to get another chance like that." The woman sighed.

"But it wasn't our fault," The first one said.

"Yeah, it wasn't there." The second continued.

"Wait, what?" The man and woman tilted their heads.

"We managed to overhear-"

"I managed to overhear." The second corrected.

"Get to the point!" The woman showed her fist.

"The artifact was bought off by this old mage called Gaius Norman into his collection."

"Why would the academy sell it?" The man asked.

"You haven't heard? The Norman family is one of this continent's most influential mage houses."

"Right, privilege." The man nodded in disappointment. "So, where is it now?"

"Our best guess is at his house." The two nodded.

"And where is it?"

"I don't know." They shrugged.

"Damn." The man sat down. "This complicates things. That artifact is our greatest clue."

"Can we get out of this damn desert already?" The woman asked. "I'm burning here."

"I guess there's no use sitting here anymore." The man stood up. "Let's go back to the city to plan our next move."

"Sure," The others agreed.

With the group moving toward the coast, a mirage of a creature bounced next to the man. It wore large red shoes and a onesie full of stripes of various colors. Its head was white as snow with a row of small teeth curved to a fixed smile.

"Well, are you going to meet him? Are you?" It asked with an amused throaty voice.

The man walked as if he did not see the colorful disaster as it followed him with its flowing red hair, jumping off the ground like a bouncy all.

"Please tell me. I gave you the clue and even magic. Pretty please?" It persisted.

"If I knew I would be stuck with you, I would have avoided this entire continent." The man snapped back.

"Did you say something, Emil?" The woman stopped.

"No, just thinking." Emil waved his hand.

"Okay, but don't get left behind." She continued along with the group.

"You are much more fun than your father. He was so dull." The thing honked its nose. "But we are going to have so much fun together now!"

Emil did not answer.

"But I want to see your son. Come on, let me see him. I won't do anything. Pinky promise."

"Are you sure he is here?"

"I can sense him, but you might be too late. He is in pretty rough shape." The thing tempted him.

Emil stopped. "Where is he?"

The thing curved its mouth to a smile until its cheeks came together. "Let me take you there."

Emil faced sternly toward the mountains and the shores beyond them. "I'm coming, Orel."