The dark whispers drifted into Norman's ear, striking a cold wave of terror down to his core. His vision filled with darkness as he lost the feeling of his limbs. First, he was shocked, then afraid, until he felt nothing at all and became a part of the void.

Norman froze with a blank stare as if fallen asleep eyes open. His mouth gaped open and his hands and legs went limp.

"What did you do to him?" Orel pointed with fury.

"All under contract," Nyx brushed his jagged hand against Norman's cheek. "Twenty-five years and seven months. You thought I would merely sap them from you, master, but that was just your assumption. I can use them however I want, and this is the perfect moment."

The sinister aura emanating throughout the room made everyone's primal instinct to flee trigger. Most resisted, though, in Hugo's case, it was because of his bad positioning, with Nyx being in between him and the door. Orel, on the other hand, stepped closer, locking his eyes with Nyx.

"Answer the question."

"I will not answer to a mere mortal, less a child."

"You forced him into it, didn't you?" Ándras said.

"Make no mistake. My contracts are always fair, give and take." Nyx floated behind Norman. "But time is up. This farce will finally come to its conclusion."

"If we beat you, Norman will be free." Orel readied his hands.

"Naive child. Such arrogance will only feed your inevitable retribution," Nyx's mouth neared Norman from behind. "Protect me." He whispered.

Norman stood up unnaturally straight and raised his hand. A ball of light lit up in his palm that grew into the size of his head. The cold dead stare he gave to Orel made him shiver.

"What are you doing, Norman?" Orel recoiled. "It's me, Orel."

Nyx laughed with noxious fumes oozing off from his mouth. "Soul Contract cannot be broken with weak forces like words and feelings. It is a binding vow that each party must respect. The soul cannot break free as long as the contract holds."

"What a horrid power. Reminds me of that dastard lord," Diarmuid said.

"Once more I have been given corporeal form. I have made deals and collected dept for decades now, and I am not about to falter because of some kid and his friends. I would not mind ending you here, but I am under orders that no harm will come to Norman. I suppose you have no intention of that either." Nyx's dark chasms for eyes turned to the door. "We will take our leave now. However I detest the thought, I will spare you fools this time, and only once. The next time you lay your eyes upon me, be sure to treasure that sight to the great beyond as it will be the last thing you will witness."

"Don't think I'll just let you go," Orel said.

"Then, die." Nyx sighed. "Fire."

The ball in Norman's hand grew. With the turn of his palm, he sent it hurling toward Orel.

"I don't think so!" Ándras caught the fireball like a pitcher and absorbed it.

"I do not have time for this," Nyx groaned. "Disappear and follow me to the main estate."

Nyx dissipated into the shadows, leaving Norman to himself. The silence that ensued caught everyone still. Norman stood still, with a slight tilt to his head, as if waiting. It took a moment for Orel to realize why.

"Wait, everyone, don't blink!"

Yet, those words only made everyone turn their attention to Orel. At that moment, as if luck had finally taken the other side, a spec of dust hit his eye. Holding his eye open against his reflexes, he made sure Norman couldn't run away. That was, until Norman turned around, took hold of the door, and ran out.

"I'm going after him!" Orel ran out.

"Let's go!" Ándras followed just behind him.

"Wait you two!" Diarmuid made a futile attempt at stopping them. He sighed and turned to Hugo. "Excuse us." And ran after them.

Hugo sat down in his chair with his weak heart still stirring inside his chest. He could not believe his eyes as he swiped sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.

"So it's true," he managed to utter. "A great spirit making contracts in Paradis was not just an awful rumor. What's more, if I read those words right, is it serving the Normans in some way? I might have seen too much. May Lapetus save us all."

Orel ran out the door with the quickest steps he could muster, yet Norman was gone as he turned the corner. He would not give up and ran down the hallway toward the exit. He turned the corner with his shoes slipping on the slick floor tiles. His mind was full of things to say, so much that all other noise did not reach his ears, not even the loud steps ahead of him. That was when his sprint came to a full stop.

Falling to his butt, Orel finally came back to his senses. In front of him was his adversary, on the ground just like him. It took no time to recognize him.

"Dad?" Orel stood up. "what are you doing here?"

Emil's face was more shocked than Orel was expecting. He had a shocked face like he had forgotten his and Tuja's anniversary.

"Sorry, but we need to get out of here," He grabbed Orel's arm.

"What do you mean?" Orel yanked it off. "I can't get out yet! need to find Norman!"

"The situation has changed," Hortensia explained.

"How so?" Diarmuid and Ándras arrived at the scene.

"Talon is searching for us," Emil explained with rattled teeth.

"What's that?" Orel asked.

"Not good," Diarmuid said. "I heard of them. Elite MIB squads, right?"

"Seems so," Martin nodded.

"We managed to avoid them, but it's too dangerous to stay here," Hortensia explained.

"I still need to find Norman. We managed to find him but...Things happened and now he's going back somewhere."

"Where?" Emil asked.

"I don't know. They called it 'the main estate'."

"We don't have time!" Aston shouted.

"Quiet!" Hortensia stopped herself from punching him.

"Well, did you get your answer?" Emil turned back to Orel.

"Yes, well, no," He scratched his head. "There's this evil spirit that took control of him. I think that's the reason why he can't leave."

"What?" Aston blurted. "That's even worse!"

"Shush!" Hortensia let her fist punch his guts in.

Aston kneeled. Martin lent out his hand, which he begrudgingly accepted.

"You deserved that," Martin said after hoisting him up.

Aston whipped the hand away without saying anything.

"You still want to go there?" Emil wanted to make sure.

Orel collected his thoughts. "Yes."

"I see," Emil sighed. He turned to his group. "I will go with him. You do what you want."

"Are you serious?" Hortensia asked.

"He's my son. I might have been gone for a while, but I will protect him this time."

"Do what you want. I am leaving this instant." Aston waved.

"Aston, wait!" Martin yelled out.

"What?" He stopped. "Do not try to stop me. I will not follow this crazy train anymore."

"But did you hear what they said?"

"What do you mean?" Aston turned around.

"The main estate of Normans."

"Yes, I heard that."

"No, but you remember what we got from our scouting? The artifact is in Gaius Norman's collection and that would be at-"

"The main estate." Aston realized.

"See? If we go there together, maybe we could get out. We've gone through worse, haven't we? Come on, only we can confirm Jiy lai Shante. How about it, partner?"

Aston reached out his hand with a desperate, yet honest smile. Aston looked at the empty hand, then back at him.

"It's Jihaise Alard, you idiot," Aston slapped the hand and walked back to the group.

"How about you, Hortensia?" Emil turned to her.

"You already know my answer," Hortensia sighed. "I won't be leaving by now. If only we could find Catori too."

"We got ourselves a big party, don't we?" Ándras nudged Diarmuid.

"I didn't see us going together. While it's safer, we're quite conspicuous." He analyzed the situation.

"We should get going." Orel reminded.

"Right. We don't want to stay here for long." Emil added.

Orel watched in confusion as a ball of light appeared on his father's right shoulder.

"Dad, what's that?" He pointed.

Emil turned and felt utter shock. The beam of light condensed into a small, round machine with a screen, a pair of round eyes on top, and a cartoony mouth hanging from underneath. The screen was black, yet the simple eyes were fixated on the person who they were attached to as the thing floated above their shoulder.

"Aston, you have one too!" Martin pointed.

"Dear gods, you as well!" His jaw dropped in shock.

"As do you, Hortensia." Emil pointed out.

"What are these things?" Hortensia poked hers. It was solid, yet unmistakably magical, with golden fur covering everything except the screen.

Suddenly, the screens turned on and the machine floated before them.

"Welcome to the game!" The cutesy voice claimed with the announcement written on the screen.

"What?" Emil looked at the screen.

"Today's game is..." A row of choices started spinning up and down at a rapid pace.

"This can't be good..."

"We need to get these off!" Martin panicked.

Aston grabbed the thing with his hands. "Dilapidation Touch!"

Even though he used the spell at full power, there was not even a scratch on the object.

"It's no use." Aston huffed.

"Let me give it a try." Ándras stepped up. He gripped Emil's screen and lit it on fire. The flames felt intense, yet the fuzzy fur had no sign of burning after the fire ran out.

"Why can they be this durable?" Emil asked.

"Either the mage has a huge amount of mana, or you fill some kind of condition." Diarmuid thought.

Ándras pondered in deep thought. "Why we don't have them?"

Martin froze for a second. "Wait."

"What? Did you figure it out?" Aston asked.

"It is only a theory, but considering who is affected, and I hate to admit it, but the agents have only seen us."

"So it IS their work?!" Emil shrieked. "We are doomed!"

The selection slowed down with the options until one stopped in the middle of the screen.

"Hide and Seek!" The voice announced with a high pitch.

The screens changed to rows of pictures.

"Is that...Us?" Emil noticed.

"And those are the agents," Hortensia added. She looked closely at the top row. "Who's that bitch?" She pointed at the fourth picture.

"Here we have today's players! On top, we have the seekers and down there are the hiders! Today we have a lot of participants, which means a lot of fun! We need all of Atlas Academies' second floor for such a large party!"

"Wait, so we can't leave? What happens then?"

"A game wouldn't be fun without prizes and risks, so let's set them now! Both parties can choose their winning conditions! You have five minutes, starting now!"

"What should we do?" Emil asked Diarmuid, thinking he would know better.

"While it may seem silly, this 'game' seems to be a restriction spell and a grand one at that. Basically, the user uses conditions to restrict their target in one way or another. Those agents must not want you to leave, so they activated the spell."

"Thank you, but that didn't really answer the question."

"The most simple way is to defeat the mage keeping up the spell. You can also try to let the spell conclude if you can."

"Like winning the game?"

"Well, that's one way to do it," Diarmuid affirmed.

"Is that your winning condition?" The screen jumped in front of them.

"No, let's think this through," Diarmuid pushed it away.

"You are not part of the game," The thing bounced back and hit him in the head.

"Can I ask you...whatever you are," Emil did not know where to look at the thing.

"Gamestation!" The machine declared.

"Um, Gamestation, what happens if someone breaks the rules?"

"No rulebreaking allowed! Breaking the rules is an instant loss for the team!"

"But can't we quit?"

"Chickens will be punished! Gamemaster will decide on the punishment!"

"I see." Emil did not like the implications. "Wait, gamemaster? How is that fair?"

"No one can break the rules or restrictions, even the user," Diarmuid explained.

"Exactly! One minute remaining! What is your winning condition?"

"Does everyone need to choose?" Hortensia was starting to get tired of the high-pitched voice.

"No! Someone can represent the team!"

"I can be that," Emil rose his hand.

"And the winning condition?" Gamestation asked.

"Well, um, that the other team lets us go and not pursue us?" Emil suggested.

"Is that your final answer?"

Emil looked around and the others nodded. "Yes?"

"Good!"

The rest of the minute passed shortly.

"Time's up! The winning conditions have been chosen! Hiders: The losers will not apprehend or pursue them. Hunters: The other team will gather at the front of the main stairs to be apprehended without resistance."

"They are pretty clear about what they want," Diarmuid noted.

"Time limit is thirty minutes, starting now!"

"Wait!" Emil stopped the thing.

"What is it?"

"What counts as being caught?"

"The hunter will point at a player they can see and say 'You're it!'"

"Isn't that tag?" Orel asked.

"...No!" The empty eyes answered cheerily.

"What counts as us losing?" Martin asked.

"If all hiders are caught, the team loses!"

"So as long as one of us survives, we will win?" Aston questioned.

"Correct!"

"This thing stands out like a sore thumb," Hortensia flicked her copy of the Gamestation console away. "How are we supposed to hide with it?"

"I can appear and disappear by your command!" The Gamestation floated back.

"Then go away."

"As you wish!" The thing disappeared with a poof.

"Wait, didn't you just say that the game started?" Emil remembered.

"That is correct!"

"We probably need to get out of the open." He looked around.

"Can you show the other team?" Diarmuid asked. "Even if we aren't part of the team, we can help in finding the host."

"You are not a valid player!" The Gamestation repeated itself.

"Could you show me the players?" Emil asked in turn.

"Certainly!" The screen popped up.

Diarmuid went through their faces, yet stopped at one of them.

"Is something wrong?" Emil noticed his worried face.

"Didn't we run into her back at the teacher's lounge?" Diarmuid showed the screen to Orel.

"Oh, yeah. The skin-suit woman." Orel remembered.

"Could she be the host?" Emil suggested.

"Wait," Hortensia interrupted them. "Isn't there someone missing here?" She said while looking at his screen.

"Right. The short fellow with the hood." Martin noticed.

"That makes it clear. He must be the gamemaster." Diarmuid said.

"What should we do?" Hortensia asked.

"Since it is easy for the hunters to catch us we should probably try to stay hidden," Emil proposed.

"Then we'll try to take out that mage," Orel continued.

"Are you sure, Orel? You can also leave." Emil reminded.

"We're going nowhere," Orel reaffirmed.

"There's no turning back now," Ándras nodded.

"We wouldn't get far anyways," Diarmuid shrugged.

"Then, let's go." Emil nodded to the others. "Be safe out there." He said back to Orel and his group.

"You too, Dad," Orel waved.

The group split up and ran as far as they could. Meanwhile, Orel's posse had an emergency meeting.

"So, who's taking on who?" Ándras said the most important question.

"We only need to take out the gamemaster," Diarmuid corrected.

"But aren't those others going to get in our way?" Orel asked.

"They will most likely go out hunting. Remember, in their eyes, your father and the others are the only intruders. Of course, they will probably also seek others."

"And that means us," Orel gulped.

"I thought you weren't going to go this far?" Ándras smiled smugly at Diarmuid.

Diarmuid's square face hardened like a cracking stone. "We are past that point. I have no qualms about breaking the laws of an unjust system. Besides, I don't want those goons to catch us."

Outside the nobles and their servants looked anxiously toward the academy's towering might with held breaths. Yet, they had to avert their gaze as the doors opened. Everyone knew it was best to not get in between the work of Talon, as the agents would, though rarely, investigate royal families as well. No one was an exception, not even the MIB themselves. What's more, the two agents were carrying someone. The streets emptied from the last few that still roamed it during the storm brewing on the other side of the dome above.

"Get moving," Shikra tugged the mana-dispersing cuffs on Ocham.

Ocham had nothing to say. He had no strength other than to barely keep himself straight. The image of Adler flashed in his hazy mind. The fight was over in an instant. No matter how many knives he threw at him, a single touch of his arm was enough to deconstruct them into nothing. As Adler's cold hand grasped him, the rest of his mana escaped his body like invisible steam. Just as his grip, the eyes he saw under the shade were cold as ice. The boy he once knew through the pain they shared was gone. He wondered if he could have turned out that way if he had not been able to escape that hell. On the other hand, he was not much better. He killed on orders as well, but he did not care nor think what he did was right. He did it to survive, or that he told himself. In the end, it was his choice to earn money with blood. Was it because it was easy or because it would let others experience the same loss and pain he felt? Ocham did not want to answer that question. The last thing he wanted to lose was his reason, but somehow it felt that he already did long ago. Everything before that moment had been nothing but slipping past and getting by, like a filthy sewer rat, lost in the darkness as days went by. Why now of all times did he decide to return here? Was it because the Grandfather died? Because he could see the chaos coming, signaling the end of the loathsome period he had grown accustomed to? Before he could kid himself that he would one day earn the money and get back the last remaining memory of his father, yet at that moment, that candle of hope had been blown out. Did he attempt it because of reason or the lack thereof? Another question, yet one he could not answer. The rodent had squirmed away from the coming storm, desperately trying to flee back to his home, the place where there once was cheese and warmth. Yet, the only thing waiting for him were traps and horrified people, ready to get rid of that nasty thing. All alone, the rat could only submit to his fate as he dreamed of those distant days of happiness.

"You too, Rufous," She clicked her tongue in anger.

Hearing no response, she looked behind her, where the aloof man looked happily at a bird sitting over a bench.

"Rufous, focus." She reminded with a sharper tone. "We are on a mission."

"I-I I'm sorry, Shikra!" He jumped. "It's just that I rarely see birds here, and this one looks so pretty, especially those back feathers."

"We have no time to watch birds. We have a detainee."

Ocham lifted his head to see the two bickering, yet his eyes fixated on the bird. As Rufous was fixated on the colorful, prismatic feathers, the only thing Ocham saw was the glimpse of an explosion. Yet, he could not get as much as a gasp out of his mouth.

"Don't make me come there..." Shikra sighed.

Just like that, the bird turned bright red and exploded in sparkling colors. The sudden bright light blinded Shikra and hid Rufous within it. Before she could realize it, her grip on the cuffs got loose. As her sight returned, Ocham and the fingers she gripped with were gone. The cuffs and her fingers were cut clean off, sliced perfectly without any resistance. She looked over to Rufous, who was still slightly dazed from the explosion, but otherwise fine.

"W-What happened?" He said, slapping his cheeks to alleviate nausea.

"The convict escaped!" Shikra was ready to throw hands.

"He wasn't a convict yet, though," Rufous mumbled to himself.

"It must be the other intruders. We need to go after them!"

"Are you alright?" He noticed the blood.

"This is nothing! Did you see where they went?"

"I-I couldn't see anything."

"Damn it."

"Should we report back to Adler?"

"Do YOU want to admit that we lost the target?"

"R-Right."

"Besides, they have probably activated Kestrel's spell by now, so they cannot come to help for a while."

"How are we supposed to find him then?"

"Them. We need to find them." Shikra corrected with a glare.

"Right. Then, how are we supposed to find them?"

"I'm thinking!" Shikra snapped.

Ocham returned to his senses on a nearby rooftop and rubbed his newly freed wrists. In his mind was only one question, which he had barely enough strength to utter.

"Why?"

"No 'thank you'? How rude." A lean figure twirled his mustaches nearby. "La Loupe." He tipped his hat.

"Answer the goddamn question."

A feathery shadow jumped down to their level. It was a Zou, yet a kind Ocham had rarely seen. Harpies, the flying Zou, were one of the rarest tribes as their appearance stood out the most. A man-sized raven clad in dark feathers, with fingers at the end of its wings like bats. The featherless, chicken-like legs were covered in charms and beads. Similar garments strapped around the neck and waist, and even though they included metal parts, they had no sound thanks to the soft feathers. Even without introductions, Ocham could easily deduce that it was Bam, though it was surprising to see him in person. While most of his body was quite extraordinary, his face was quite normal in comparison. His dark skin and yellow eyes underneath the bushy hair might have been daunting, but his smile, though riddled with sharp teeth, was oddly comforting.

"Your little stunt in that meeting made some big things go down." He explained calmly, sitting down to a squat. "Have you heard what's happening out there?"

"No..." Ocham was confused. "But that didn't answer my question."

"Well," La Loupe took over. "Since you decided to...Terminate our current job positions, we had a little chat between Bam and I."

"The first idea was to just kill you."

"Which you already tried," Ocham pointed out.

"But that wouldn't solve the problem, wouldn't it?" La Loupe lit up a cigarette.

"Then we had another thought." Bam ruffled his feathers in excitement.

"We shouldn't waste our time fighting each other, however fun that would be, but instead work together."

"...You're insane."

"Think about it. Together we could be the best hitman group in the country, the world, even." La Loupe smiled with the cigarette hanging on the edge of his lips.

"The jobs we could take and what they would pay us," Bam rubbed his wings together. "Ooh, I can almost smell it."

"You tried to kill me and murdered my dog."

"That was scare tactics, mon ami. Don't take it with bad blood. It might have looked bad, but I assure you, I sliced its neck first."

"No thank you. I am not doing this for fun."

"Me neither. Well, I do enjoy a good fight, but murder is merely a business. These clothes and cigarettes don't buy themselves." La Loupe spat it down to the streets.

Ocham turned his eyes to Bam, who seemed to have little to no money spent or on him.

"Me?" He pointed at himself. "I just like money and everything it can buy."

"So you came all the way here just to ask me in on this offer?" Ocham could barely raise his eyebrows.

"Well, when we heard that you were heading here, so we wanted to ask before you would die or end up in prison." La Loupe shrugged.

"...You're serious?"

"Of course." Bam nodded.

Ocham thought for a moment, resting his brain from the stupidity in front of him.

"You know what? He asked.

"Yes?" La Loupe waited in anticipation."

"There is no way I can trust you, unless..."

"Unless?"

"You help me collect something from a certain mansion."

"Oh?" The suggestion piqued La Loupe's interest.

"If you manage to do that, I will consider it."

"It will be the trial of fire of our group!" Bam celebrated.

Ocham sighed, though not of relief. It was not the answer he hoped, though it was still preferable to what he expected, which was a slow torturous death. The greatest headache was the fact that he had no idea what would happen next. His calculations could not have ever thought of anything like this happening, and it was still lagging analyzing the last hour. He should not have been so troubled, as no one could predict what would happen next, except a few individuals including a cynical mage sitting on top of a tower beyond the horizon.