AN: Quick note on this chapter. It contains Lord of Mysteries spoilers for the first season, so I suggest you skip it if you don't want to be spoiled. I will also release a LOTM guide to its powersystem tomorrow or later today because there is a lot. There are also so great YouTube videos out there. Check chapter comnt.
Bonus chapter at 500 power stones and another one at 700.
PS: We will get to the big reveal in maybe 2 days as I will release daily chapters.
The Backlund station was a loud, sweltering cauldron slling heavily of coal smoke. Adam moved easily with the late-evening crowd toward the lower-class platforms, keeping his hands casual at his sides. His newly acquired theft instincts humd in his peripheral vision, buzzing past three perfect pickpocket opportunities he didn't even need. He'd already scored two streets back, the thieving instinct guiding his hand perfectly into a wealthy target's pocket on his third attempt. Now, eight soli and a few loose pence rested safely in his coat.
[ Notice. The departure board lists three trains within the hour. Select the cheapest northbound route. Review the placard before queuing. ]
ok, Adam thought.
Checking the placard at the ticket window, he found a lower-class ticket to Tingen departing in forty minutes for five soli. He handed the conductor the coins along with a half-penny of short-change he didn't quite understand. Without even looking up, the man stamped his paper ticket. Adam tucked it away and boarded the train.
The third-class carriage was a bleak setup of rough wood and stiff upholstery. He snagged a window seat near the back. Across the aisle, an elderly woman cradled a basket filled with bread and onions; a few rows ahead, a man was already snoring loudly. Adam leaned his head against the chilly glass pane and let his eyes drift closed.
[ Sleep cycle recomnded. I will maintain watch during the journey. ]
He fell into a light, surface sleep, a habit drilled into him during his Westfall days, relying on his Combat Instinct to keep a thin line of awareness active. The carriage rocked rhythmically, and the whistle wailed at level crossings. He jolted awake a couple of tis as passengers shuffled in and out at interdiate stops, but drifted right back off once they settled.
When dawn broke over Tingen, it felt like an entirely different beast than Backlund. The period architecture and cobblestone streets matched, but the air here was a lighter shade of industrial soot, and the lanes felt significantly narrower. Barges were already cutting through the river running through the city center, and the southern skyline was stained a dull grey by factory smoke.
Stepping off the platform alongside the early-morning commuters, Adam walked east at random.
[ Operational Strategy. Locate cheap, anonymous lodging. The east side is optimal for our needs. Do not register under any na for now. ]
Right, Adam agreed.
He spent twenty minutes scouting the area, bypassing two boarding houses and an inn that looked far too upscale and conspicuous. Finally, he spotted a crooked, weathered sign hanging over a foggy window: The Crooked Penny: Rooms by Day or Week. A woman wrapped in a faded shawl was out front sweeping the steps.
He stopped in front of her. "I need a room. Just one night."
She looked him up and down, evaluating him. His travel coat passed inspection, as did his practical boots. His total lack of luggage gave her pause, but she ultimately shrugged it off.
"Two soli," she grunted. "Top of the stairs, on the right. Key's in the door. Breakfast is bread and tea at six-thirty on the kitchen side. Don't bring any trouble here."
"I won't," Adam replied, handing over the money. She didn't ask anything else, and The Crooked Penny clearly wasn't the type of establishnt to keep records anyway.
The room was incredibly basic: a bed, a washstand, and a single window overlooking a stark brick alley. But the sheets were clean, so he sat down on the mattress to regroup.
[ Report. Lodging secured for two soli. One sola and a few pence remain in your coat pocket. ]
[ Recomndation. Explore the imdiate area to locate Saint Selena Cathedral and Zouteland Street. We must map the terrain before making contact. ]
Adam spent the next three hours mapping the surrounding streets. He stumbled upon the cathedral first. Saint Selena Cathedral lood at the end of Red Moonlight Street, a structure of dark, imposing stone, narrow windows, and a silent bell tower. He kept his distance.
[ Analysis. The cathedral serves as the public facade for the Church of the Evernight Goddess. The Nighthawks division, the Church's supernatural-policing arm, operates from the building directly behind it on Zouteland Street. Be careful, Host. ]
Way ahead of you, Adam thought.
Zouteland Street ran parallel, exactly one block behind Red Moonlight Street. Number 36 was a modest two-story building sporting a polished brass plate: Blackthorn Security Company: Private and Discreet, Awwa County Police Liaison. While the first-floor windows were heavily curtained, the second-floor windows featured thick iron bars set deep into the fras. Adam's Westfall-trained eyes imdiately recognized that those bars were structural, built for serious security rather than decoration.
He ntally logged the layout: a front door, a side door leading into the alley, a kitchen door at the rear, and a small barred window high up on the east wall. There was also a coal chute, which likely connected to an underground passage leading back to the cathedral based on the world details he half-rembered. He walked right past without breaking his stride or slowing down.
[ Notice. Periter data logged. Direct entry without an invitation is unfeasible. Return to the inn for the noon al and consult the innkeeper. ]
Got it, Adam thought, heading back. When he returned, the innkeeper was sitting at the kitchen table, cradling a chipped cup of tea. She glanced up as he entered.
"Settling in alright?" she asked.
"Yeah," Adam said, pulling up a chair across from her without waiting for an invitation. "I was actually hoping you could point toward a reliable card-reader in town."
She raised an eyebrow skeptically. "What for?"
"Just looking for so direction on what to do next," he replied smoothly.
She studied him intently over the rim of her cup. Adam maintained a calm, steady gaze, letting her evaluate him. Finally, she set the cup down.
"There's that Moretti boy over on Iron Cross Street, west side," she said. "Second floor of Mr. Franky's terrace houses, the brown door. He isn't famous or anything, but he's good. Charges a penny for a conversation, two pence for a card reading. Keeps it low-key because his sister hates it, but he's usually ho in the afternoons."
"Thank you," Adam said.
"You don't exactly strike as the type of man who seeks out card readings, mister," she remarked dryly.
"Usually, I'm not," Adam shrugged. "But given my current circumstances, it's a definitive yes."
She dropped the subject and went back to her tea, and Adam took his leave. Crossing the south bridge over the river, he navigated into the West Borough. Iron Cross Street was a monotonous row of narrow terrace houses where every single entrance looked identical. He eventually found the brown door marked with a small plate: Franky: Rents. Heading up a flight of creaky, narrow stairs that slled faintly of soap and boot polish, he knocked firmly on the second-floor door.
The door swung open to reveal a young man with plain features, thin shoulders, and brown hair. He had the kind of average face Adam had walked past a thousand tis in a thousand different cities without ever rembering. The man held a book open, his thumb wedged between the pages to keep his place.
"Yes?" the young man asked.
"The innkeeper over at the Crooked Penny recomnded you," Adam said. "Said you read cards."
The young man's face shifted as he ran through a few rapid ntal calculations. He glanced subtly past Adam's shoulder into the hallway, took in the quality of his travel coat, and then locked eyes with him for a mont longer than normal.
"I do," Klein Moretti finally replied, stepping aside. "Co on in." He closed the door behind them.
The apartnt was modest but exceptionally tidy. A table sat by the window flanked by two chairs, with a worn deck of Tarot cards resting in the center next to a brass candle holder. The afternoon light filtering through the glass was a dull, thin grey. Klein cleared a stack of old newspapers off one of the chairs and gestured toward it.
"Sit down," Klein said. "It's a penny for the conversation, and two pence for the reading. The reading is a simple three-card spread. I don't promise any miracles; I just interpret what the cards display. What you choose to do with that information is entirely up to you."
"Understood," Adam said, placing three pence flat on the table.
Klein scooped them up, placing them into a small dish, and picked up the deck. His hands moved with the effortless confidence of soone who spent more ti handling cards than almost anything else. He gave the deck two slow, deliberate shuffles.
"What is your question?"
Adam paused, carefully mulling over his wording.
[ Suggestion. Formulate a query regarding assistance without explicitly referencing our existence or the Bazaar. ]
"I'm a foreigner to this city," Adam began. "I was recently injured by a man I had absolutely no idea how to fight. I'm looking for help. Show where I can find it."
Klein's hands froze over the deck, his eyes locking onto Adam. A heavy, stretching silence filled the room. Klein didn't blink, staring deeply. In Adam's mind, Great Sage went completely rigid.
[ Alert. The individual is actively sensing a taphysical presence.]
Adam remained perfectly still. Without cutting the deck, Klein set it down on the table, placing both palms flat on the wood beside the cards. He lingered like that for a long, uncomfortable mont before abruptly standing up.
"Excuse for a mont," Klein murmured. "I need to fetch a different deck from the back room. A question like this deserves the deck I reserve for serious work."
"Of course," Adam replied.
Klein slipped through a narrow inner doorway, a curtain swaying once behind him before settling. Adam waited patiently at the table, staring at the deck Klein had left behind.
[ Analysis. It is highly probable that Klein Moretti has ascended above the Grey Fog to conduct a divination. ]
Mhm. We wait, Adam thought.
Three minutes ticked away on the small windowsill clock before the curtain stirred again and Klein erged. Oddly enough, the exact sa deck from before was in his hand, the very one he claid he was swapping. He sat back down without offering an explanation.
However, his expression had shifted. It was a subtle change, but he looked like soone who had just concluded an exhausting chore he thoroughly disliked. He cut the deck himself and flipped the first card.
The Tower.
The second card ca down imdiately after.
The Magician.
Finally, the last card hit the table.
Judgent.
Klein stared at the three cards, his face completely unreadable.
"The first card represents a catastrophe already in motion," Klein explained smoothly. "Sothing has happened to you that you haven't fully processed or understood. The Tower signifies forced, violent change. The cards are rely confirming your loss."
"True," Adam admitted.
"The second card is you," Klein continued. "The Magician represents a foreigner possessed of a hidden depth. While the cards won't reveal the granular details, it feels as though you co from sowhere very, very far away."
"Mm."
"The final card dictates what lies ahead. Judgent signifies a reckoning. Sothing major is about to be weighed, and it will be big. The cards won't say whether you'll be the one lifting the weight or bearing it, but they guarantee your heavy involvent."
Adam absorbed the reading silently. "And where exactly is the help?"
Klein tapped his finger against the second card.
"For a man in your unique predicant, help will co from those who watch the night," Klein said directly. "The Church of the Evernight Goddess operates a front in this city, a security firm located at Number 36 Zouteland Street, just two blocks behind the cathedral. The brass plate on the door reads Blackthorn. Knock on that door and tell whoever answers that you are a newly made Beyonder seeking assistance. Do not lie to them about what you are. They have no patience for liars."
"Thank you, sir," Adam said.
Klein offered a brief nod, shuffling the three cards back into the deck. Adam stood up to leave, pausing right at the doorway.
"Thank you again, Mr. Moretti."
"Be careful out there," Klein warned quietly.
Adam made his way down the narrow stairs.
[ Critical Update. Klein Moretti has flagged our anomaly. He will report this to his captain before nightfall. Recomndation: Arrive at Blackthorn imdiately to ensure our appearance appears entirely voluntary. ]
Got it. Let's move right now, Adam resolved.
He walked directly to Zouteland Street. The brass plate at Number 36 showed Blackthorn Security Company. He approached the solid oak door and knocked firmly. The small iron grille at eye level slid open, revealing a pair of middle-aged eyes.
"State your business," a voice grunted.
"My na is Adam," he stated clearly. "I recently beca a Beyonder, and entirely against my will. I was attacked in Backlund last night by another Beyonder and have manifested abilities I don't understand. I'm here asking for help, and I'm fully willing to be tested."
The eyes behind the grille locked onto him, studying him intensely for three long seconds before the slot slid shut. A heavy bolt threw back, and the door swung open.
The man waiting inside wasn't physically imposing, but he carried himself with the poised posture of soone who had survived this line of work for decades. He wore a simple brown waistcoat over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a small silver pendant resting against his throat. He took his ti assessing Adam.
"Co inside," the man instructed. "Keep your hands where I can see them, and walk exactly where I tell you."
"Understood," Adam complied. He was led through the ground-floor vestibule and up a narrow set of stairs to the second floor.
The front office of Blackthorn Security looked remarkably ordinary: a standard clerk's desk, a filing cabinet, and a kettle warming on a low stove. The clerk wasn't around. The man with the silver pendant locked the entrance door behind Adam and pointed toward a lone chair.
"Sit."
Adam took a seat. The man walked over to a side door and tapped a distinct pattern on the wood, three soft knocks followed by two firm ones. He waited a mont before the door swung open, and two n stepped out. One was tall, gaunt, and grey-haired, bearing an incredibly cautious expression. The other was younger, broad-shouldered, and stood with the rigid bearing of an off-duty soldier. Both wore the exact sa silver pendant around their necks.
The tall, grey-haired man claid the chair directly across from Adam.
"You claim you were attacked," he opened.
"In Backlund," Adam replied. "Last night. By a man I never saw coming."
"Describe him."
Adam ticulously detailed the person exactly as he had appeared: the curly black hair, the crystal monocle resting over his eye, the pointed black hat, and that unsettling, mismatched smile. He explained how the man had effortlessly crossed three ters of cobblestone without taking a single step.
The tall man listened intently, never interrupting. Once Adam finished, the interviewer placed both hands flat on the table.
"Go fetch the captain," he ordered the younger man.
The broad-shouldered officer nodded and slipped out through the side door. The tall man turned his attention back to Adam. His face remained an unreadable mask, but his shoulders tightened slightly, a tell Adam recognized from his ti with Brandt. It was the physical reaction of a seasoned veteran who had just heard sothing deeply unwelco.
"My na is Neil," he introduced himself. "I'll be handling your initial interview until the captain arrives, which should take about ten minutes. While we wait, I have a few questions. You will answer them truthfully, and if you cannot, you will state so explicitly. Is that understood?"
"Yes," Adam said.
"Your na?"
"Adam."
"Your family na?"
"Varen."
Neil didn't react. "Your place of origin?"
"I can't say," Adam replied. "There's a definitive reason preventing from speaking it aloud. I'm not from Loen, nor am I from any kingdom on this continent you would recognize."
"Are you hostile toward the Church of the Evernight Goddess?"
"No."
"Are you hostile toward the Kingdom of Loen?"
"No."
"Are you affiliated with any Beyonder organization?"
"No."
"Are you currently serving any Beyonder organization?"
"No."
"Were you sent to Tingen by an external party?"
Adam hesitated for a fraction of a second, but Great Sage's whisper echoed softly in his mind.
[ Fact. Your deploynt was initiated by the Bazaar, which does not classify as a native Beyonder organization. The accurate response is negative. ]
"No," Adam answered.
"The attack you described, did you provoke it?" Neil asked.
"Not at all," Adam said. "I didn't see him coming, and I had no idea I was a target until he materialized right in front of ."
"What exactly did he do to you?"
Adam explained, struggling to put it into words. "I had distinct abilities before our encounter, and now they're entirely gone. He forced a potion down my throat and just walked away. When I woke up, I possessed two new traits I never asked for: a constant directional pull toward valuable objects, and a slight enhancent to my body."
Neil's eyes flickered minutely. "Sequence 9 of the Marauder Pathway. The Marauder."
"I don't know the terminology," Adam murmured. "Mr. Moretti was the one who directed here for help."
"Moretti," Neil repeated, his expression remaining perfectly blank. Adam got the feeling this stoic mask was just Neil's default state. "A card-reader located a couple of blocks from the Crooked Penny," Adam clarified.
"Mm," Neil acknowledged.
The side door swung open and the broad-shouldered officer returned, followed closely by a man of dium build in his late thirties. He had dark hair silvering at the temples and a fundantally kind mouth that did nothing to soften the sharp, analytical eyes above it. He wore a plain black coat, and the silver pendant at his throat was visibly smaller than the others.
Dunn Smith evaluated the entire room in a single glance. He gave Neil a sharp nod and pulled up the third chair without a word, fixing his gaze on Adam.
"My na is Dunn Smith, and I am the captain of this branch," he stated firmly. "Repeat everything you've told my officer."
Adam went through the entire story again. Dunn listened intently, and when Adam finished, the captain tilted his head slightly toward Neil.
"Your assessnt?" Dunn asked.
Neil pulled a Tarot deck from his inner pocket. It wasn't like the one Klein used; this deck featured much heavier card stock and edges visibly softened by years of handling.
"State the claims you want verified," Neil instructed, looking at Dunn.
Dunn locked eyes with Adam. "You will repeat each statent aloud. The cards will indicate whether you speak the truth or a lie. If a claim returns ambiguous, we will record it as such and move forward. We don't punish ambiguity. We punish lies."
"Understood," Adam replied.
Dunn began the interrogation. "State that your na is Adam."
"My na is Adam," he complied.
Neil flipped a card face up, and gave Dunn a firm nod.
"State that you were attacked by a Beyonder in Backlund last night."
"I was attacked by a Beyonder in Backlund last night," Adam repeated.
Another card was flipped. Neil nodded again.
"State that you harbor no hostile intentions toward the Church or the Kingdom of Loen."
"I have no hostile intentions toward the Church, nor do I harbor any toward Loen," Adam stated clearly.
Neil flipped the next card, a small frown creasing his brow. He set it aside and imdiately flipped a second card. The frown vanished, and he nodded up at the captain.
"Mark this one as confird but heavily veiled," Neil reported. "He is absolutely concealing information, but his stated intent is entirely genuine."
Dunn noted it down without a single comnt. "State whether you can disclose your origin."
Adam let out a slow, controlled breath. "I can tell you where I co from, but honestly, it probably wouldn't be safe or beneficial for you to know."
Neil drew two cards in quick succession, studying the patterns intently before looking up at Dunn. "Truth-veiled and heavily blocked. He isn't lying, but beyond that, the cards return nothing but a dense fog. There's a level of higher protection at play here that I simply cannot pierce."
Dunn nodded calmly. "State that you are willing to be detained for further investigation."
"I am fully willing to be detained," Adam said.
The card was flipped. Confird.
"State that you are willing to assist this branch with our operations if and when requested."
Adam paused, realizing the imnse weight of the phrasing. He answered deliberately: "I am willing to assist this branch with your operations, provided the work aligns with my capabilities. I've lost a vast amount of my abilities, but I'm still physically strong, and I want to be useful."
Neil flipped the card slowly, staring at it longer than any of the previous ones before nodding. "Confird. His intent is entirely genuine."
Dunn folded his hands neatly on the tabletop.
"Adam, you will spend the night in our holding cell," Dunn decreed. "The accommodations are comfortable, and you won't be mistreated. We will conduct further background checks in the morning and brief you on the exact situation you've stepped into. If your checks clear, you'll be assigned a role suited to your specific skill set. If things co back compromised, we'll address it then. Is this arrangent acceptable to you?"
"Yes," agreed Adam.
"Good. Officer Neil will escort you down."
Both n stood up. As they reached the door, Dunn called out one last ti.
"Adam."
"Yes?"
"You are an illegal beyonder, but you ca directly to us instead of running," Dunn noted quietly. "We will take that heavily into consideration."
"Thank you, Captain," Adam said.
The holding room on the ground floor was sparse but clean, featuring plain walls, a tidy cot, and a small barred window. The heavy door locked securely from the outside, complete with a functional slot for food and water. Neil didn't bother explaining any of it, and Adam didn't need him to. The door swung shut, and the heavy bolt slid ho. Adam sat down on the edge of the cot.
[ Evaluation. The verification process was successful. They accepted the paraters permitted by the divination. Dunn Smith has categorized you as a low-level threat, though Officer Neil exhibits minor residual concern. The captain abstained from excessive interrogation. A formal briefing is scheduled for tomorrow morning. ]
Well, all things considered, that went about as well as it possibly could have, Adam thought.
[ Acknowledged. Terminating dialogue to initiate watch protocol. Rest efficiently. ]
He woke up promptly at half past six to the distinct scraping sound of the door bolt sliding back. Neil stood in the doorway holding a al tray containing bread, hard cheese, and a tin cup of weak tea.
"Eat up," Neil grunted. "The captain expects you upstairs in twenty minutes."
Adam quickly finished the food and made his way upstairs by five minutes to seven. Dunn was waiting in a different room, a proper office situated directly above the reception desk, complete with a wide window looking out over Zouteland Street. A large map of Tingen hung prominently on the wall behind his desk, marked with pins in three specific locations. A second chair waited beside Dunn's desk, and a young man Adam hadn't seen at the office yesterday stood rigidly against the wall with his hands clasped behind his back.
Adam froze a half-step into the room. Klein Moretti stared right back at him.
Adam did his absolute best to project a casual, composed deanor, and Klein proved equally adept at keeping his mask on. Dunn gestured broadly toward the empty chair.
"Sit down, Adam," Dunn opened, opening a thick folder on his desk. "This is Officer Moretti, an active mber of this branch. He inford last night that a highly unusual Beyonder had visited his ho under the guise of getting a card reading, exactly two hours before you walked through our front gates."
Adam took his seat. "I had no idea he was an officer."
"That was entirely by design," Dunn replied dryly. "We don't advertise our presence. Now, for the briefing. You've arrived in Tingen at a very precarious mont, and I'm going to assu you know absolutely nothing about the current state of affairs. Interrupt if you have any questions."
"Understood," Adam nodded.
"Tingen is primarily a university city located in northern Loen," Dunn explained. "The Church of the Evernight Goddess maintains its sacred ground here at Saint Selena Cathedral. The Nighthawks serve as the official operational arm of the Church, tasked with neutralizing supernatural threats, handling rogue potions, and dismantling illicit cults. We operate via localized branches. The Tingen branch consists of six formal officers and a small civilian support staff, covering Sequences 9 through 7. The captaincy rests at Sequence 7, and I hold that rank."
Adam offered a slight nod.
"Over the last eleven days, we've registered a massive spike in localized Beyonder activity," Dunn continued, his eyes darkening slightly. "The pattern directly matches a known threat: an apocalyptic summoning cult known as the Aurora Order is actively preparing a high-level ritual. We've identified and placed one cell under tight surveillance, but there are at least two others operating in the shadows that we haven't located yet. If this ritual succeeds, it will summon an entity into our world that we absolutely cannot allow to manifest. The operational window is closing fast, and we project they will strike within the coming week."
Adam kept his facial muscles perfectly still. September 9th was exactly five days away.
"We are severely short-handed," Dunn admitted. "Holy Cathedral hasn't authorized any reinforcents from Backlund, so we have to manage with the team we have. You've walked up to our door offering your services, and if you are truly what you claim to be, your assistance would be invaluable."
"I intend to be," Adam said.
"We're running a low-stakes clearance operation today," Dunn revealed. "A minor, supply-side Beyonder cell operating out of the east side. We have intelligence suggesting they're selling illicit, unsanctioned potion materials out of a hidden back room in a print shop on Marston Lane. Officer Moretti will be leading the raid, with Officer Leonard Mitchell serving as secondary support. You will be the third man on the team. Your objective is containnt and asset seizure; we don't anticipate a fight that exceeds your capabilities. If things escalate unexpectedly, you will imdiately extract, and Leonard will handle the fallout."
"Understood," Adam confird.
"We won't be arming you," Dunn added firmly. "Your role is to secure the rear exit. If anyone attempts to flee, your job is to stop them, ideally without lethal force. Is that acceptable?"
If these guys knew that bullets still literally bounced off my skin and that walls crumble when I lean too hard against them, this no-weapon rule would feel a lot less reassuring, Adam thought ironically. Fortunately for everyone in this room, no one is going to tell them.
"Yes, that's fine," Adam said aloud.
"You deploy in forty-five minutes," Dunn concluded, shutting the folder. "Officer Moretti will handle the remaining tactical details. et at the back door at eight sharp."
"Understood," Adam said.
Dunn fixed him with one final, lingering look. "Adam, don't embarrass ."
"I won't," Adam promised.
Dunn nodded dismissively, and Klein escorted Adam out into the hallway. As they walked down the corridor, Klein spoke quietly, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.
"The captain doesn't hand out his trust or respect easily," Klein noted.
"I picked up on that," Adam murmured.
"Don't give him a single reason to strip it away," Klein warned as they descended the stairs.
"I don't intend to," Adam said.
By eight-fifteen in the morning, Marston Lane was a dismal, narrow industrial side street cutting behind the print shops of the East Borough. The cobblestones remained slick from the night's dampness, and a pair of local children ran past, eagerly chasing a wooden hoop down the lane. A heavily laden coal cart rumbled out of a side alley, creaking toward the distant river.
Klein, Leonard, and Adam gathered at the mouth of the lane. Leonard was the tall, unflappable officer Adam had glimpsed yesterday, the kind of man who looked like he was on active duty even when standing completely still. He was a Sequence 8 Beyonder ard with a standard service revolver, a long police-issue truncheon slung at his belt, and a concealed pistol tucked neatly beneath his coat. Klein, by contrast, carried nothing more than a folded overcoat draped casually over one arm.
Klein leaned in, keeping his voice low. "The print shop is the third door on the left. The storefront itself is completely legitimate, but the illegal operation is contained entirely in the back room. We'll breech from the front. Leonard will secure the storefront while I take the back staircase. Adam, your sole responsibility is the rear exit. It's a basic wooden door leading out into the back courtyard. It has a simple lock but no crossbar. If anyone tries to bolt through that door, you neutralize them."
Adam nodded. "How many targets are we dealing with?"
"We have verified three inside, with two wildcards we aren't completely sure about," Klein detailed. "The cell leader is a man nad Reuben, a confird Sequence 9. The two unverified targets might be ranked higher, but the captain capped this operation under the strict assumption of a Sequence 8 ceiling. If anyone exceeding Sequence 8 manifests, we abort imdiately and call the captain for heavy backup."
"Understood," Adam said.
"Move on my signal," Klein instructed.
Adam slipped away quietly to secure the rear periter. The back courtyard was cramped and squalid, dominated by a sprawling heap of coal in one corner and a cracked wooden outhouse built against the far brick wall. The rear entrance to the print shop was set directly into the stonework, a faded green door covered in paint so old it had lost its true color decades ago.
Adam took up a tactical position roughly three ters back, blending cleanly into the heavy shadow cast by the outhouse. He waited in absolute silence.
[ Combat Instinct activated. No imdiate hostile intent detected within the structure. However, three distinct breathing patterns are audible through the partition. One registers as exceptionally faint. ]
Three targets, I hear them, Adam noted ntally.
He waited, biding his ti. Klein's signal arrived via a soft, rhythmic three-knock at the front of the building. Almost imdiately, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the thin walls, followed by an abrupt shout of pure surprise. Within seconds, the frantic scraping of heavy furniture moving at high speed cut through the air.
Adam heard rapid, heavy footsteps sprinting directly toward the rear exit.
The faded green door slamd open violently, and a man burst out into the courtyard at a flat-out sprint, his eyes wide with panic as he clutched a small leather satchel tightly against his chest. He caught sight of Adam waiting re ters away and tried to pivot sharply to escape.
Adam anticipated the movent, stepping directly into the runner's line of escape. He closed the distance in a single fluid stride. Gripping the runner's wrist tightly with his left hand, his right hand ripped the leather satchel away as he smoothly swept the man's legs out from under him, slamming him flat onto the cobblestones with the practiced, efficient violence of a highly trained operative.
The runner turned out to be a low-level courier. Adam instantly recognized the slight build, cheap attire, and panicked posture. It definitely wasn't Reuben, the cell leader. The courier squird once in a desperate bid to break free, but upon feeling the overwhelming, immovable physical strength pinning him down, he went completely rigid.
Adam snapped his gaze back toward the open doorway.
Two more n were pouring out of the print shop right behind the courier. The first was tall and gangly, frantically trying to uncap a small glass vial as he ran.
The man right behind him was Reuben.
But it was the third man exiting the building who imdiately arrested Adam's attention. He was significantly taller than Reuben, and his sharp features didn't match a single detail of the descriptions Klein had provided during the briefing. His eyes were a starkly different color, his coat featured a premium tailored cut, and he moved with a dangerous, calculating silence that absolutely did not belong to a small-ti, back-alley dealer.
Suddenly, Great Sage's voice sliced through his consciousness, sharp and urgent:
[ Alert. The third target has been misidentified. He does not register as a Sequence 9 entity. The mission's tactical ceiling has been severely compromised. ]
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