[Back to Mordred]
I feel tingly.
Raising my left hand slowly, I observed the skin over my fingers tighten and loosen as I flexed them. A faint, unfamiliar pull and tingle remained.
"That was probably me."
Phoebe's emotionless voice spoke in my mind.
I let my gaze drift around the room.
Bare white walls with no windows or decorations. The only furniture was the chair I was sitting in, and an empty one across the table bolted to the floor.
Looking up, I noticed cameras in the corners of the room. Their dark lenses focused on me.
Watching. Listening. Waiting.
Talking loudly would not be a good idea.
'What do you mean?' I asked Phoebe silently.
"In that place, your body was suspended from the flow of time," Phoebe replied. Her voice was flat and cold. "It was also subjected to abundant ardor."
She continued her explanation in a report-like manner. "As a result, your body remained in stasis. You didn't experience fatigue, hunger, thirst, or the urge to excrete."
'Yeah. I noticed.'
I rubbed my thumb against my fingers. It felt real.
I was really out of that hell.
"So when you crossed the Tear and into your world," Phoebe said, "ten years of not sustaining your body would have been detrimental."
Huffing a quiet laugh, I said. 'I might've died.'
"I used my powers to prevent that," she explained. "However, as a consequence of recovering, your body aged by one year."
I chuckled. 'How convenient. I was seventeen when I fell into the Tear. Now, with your intervention, I am eighteen years old. The age I was supposed to be.'
A neat correction, as if the author of this world wanted me to be eighteen and found a way to do exactly that.
Leaning back, I thought about it.
While I was confined and tortured in Lilith's palace for ten whole years, only a year had passed here.
What a cruel and funny joke.
"You humans are quite odd," Phoebe spoke again, somehow sounding more robotic than Minerva.
'What do you mean?'
"They should be happy to see that you are alive and have returned from the Tear," she replied, "yet here they are, confining you to this room like a dangerous being."
'They're doing the right thing,' I answered. 'They saw me, a dead guy standing before them, alive. Even I would be suspicious. They'll think a daemon had skinned me and was wearing my face.'
"I doubt Lilith would be that vicious. She would find another way to torment your loved ones," Phoebe replied.
I sighed. 'Just saying. Anyway…'
My eyes flickered to the cameras. "Where are you?"
"Alisax and I are in some sort of forest," Phoebe replied, "far from the detection of the synthetic entity called Minerva."
"A truly fascinating creature," she remarked. "Hard to believe that she was born from rocks and sand."
I smiled faintly. 'This world has plenty in store for you.'
Phoebe went quiet as our conversation ceased, her presence fading from my mind.
My eyes shifted toward the corner of the room.
So she followed me.
My beautiful hallucination.
She leaned against the wall, her sapphire-blue eyes glittering with mischief, a big smile adorning her beautiful face.
"Congratulations," Hallucination Iris said. "You made it back."
I didn't respond, but my lips curled into the faintest smile.
She giggled. "No need to talk to me. You don't want to be put in the psych ward of Althea."
"Although…" she narrowed her eyes, her grin sharpening, as if considering it. "That would not sound like a terrible idea. We can converse with each other all the time."
"Just you and me."
"Anyway. You'd better go meet the real me," she then pouted. "Or I'll keep haunting you."
She paused and then cocked her head, as if she heard something.
"You have a visitor," her smile remained. "I'll stay here, I guess, out of sight."
With that, she faded like mist.
The door to the room opened with a soft click.
Jack Raven stepped in, wearing that infuriating grin that made it impossible to tell whether he was here to congratulate me… or bury me.
"Good news!" he announced with a cheerful grin. "You're not a daemon."
I just gave him a deadpan stare. "Thanks for not driving a stake through my heart."
"You're welcome," Jack said as he shut the door behind him and strolled toward the empty chair. "Although you must thank your uncle and Artemis for stopping the Deathwalkers."
"Yeah," my gaze held his deep silver eyes. Sharp eyes that smiled even when their owner didn't.
Jack Raven.
An enigma of a man.
A cold and calculating person wearing the mask of a clown.
No one really knows why he was sent to the Shield. He was already a promising candidate to be the next head of the Raven Axial family, and whatever crime he was convicted of was well hidden.
Since it resulted in a long sentence in the Shield, his crime was clearly significant.
He never told anyone about his reason for becoming a Deathwalker, and I'm pretty sure he intends to keep it that way.
Despite his deceptive nature, Jack had a weird sense of honor, one that made him a trustworthy yet dangerous individual.
Leaning back casually, his eyes flicked over my face and then to the rest of my body, as if assessing my current condition.
"So you noticed it," he said lightly, as if reading my thoughts.
Jack, still smiling, casually tapped the edge of the table.
"Both of us are S-rankers," he continued, "yet there is a gap between our powers."
"Indeed," I stared at him. "It is a curious observation."
He smiled as his voice softened.
"Welcome to the realm of S-rank, Mordred," he said. "Where power levels mean nothing."
"You mean the levels of Beginner, Intermediate, and Master?" I asked.
He nodded. "Not all S-rankers are equal. For example, the strength of a Master S-ranker could be equal to that of a Beginner S-ranker."
"Or two Master S-rankers are not equally strong," he continued, "the power differences between S-rankers are ambiguous and cannot be clearly defined or classified."
Waving his hands dismissively, he said. "To be honest. The sublevels of Rank S are just for name's sake. You'll only realize that when you become an S-ranker."
Jack's silver eyes peered into me. "You must've realized it when you, a newly formed S-ranker, killed Asphodel, a being of Master S-rank."
"By following the standard rules of power classification applied to A rank and below, you, a beginner S-ranker, wouldn't have had a chance against Asphodel."
"And yet I killed him," I said, my fingers tapping against the table.
"Yes, you did," Jack grinned. "A true enigma indeed. We S-rankers are unequal…."
"...and equal at the same time."
He let the thought hang in the air for a moment before leaning forward, his silver gaze softening.
"Anyway," his voice was almost quiet. "I'm glad to see you alive."
That caught me off guard.
"Your account of what happened…" Jack exhaled softly, his grin flickering for a moment. "You have suffered enough."
His words echoed within me.
Jack's right. I have suffered enough.
"That's why I have another piece of good news," his smile returned.
"You are free, Mordred."
"You are no longer bound in service to the Shield."
I just stared at him. I didn't move.
Free.
The word felt foreign to me.
Four years as a Deathwalker.
Ten years in the Abyss.
Years of suffering, heartbreak, and mental breakdown.
I couldn't help but wonder.
Am I truly free?
Free from the horrors, nightmares, and voices?
The whispers of the Madness crept into my mind, reminding me of the true freedom I had experienced.
Free…
"Well?" I said after a pause, my tone light. "That's obvious. My sentence ended a year ago."
"Or it was supposed to."
Jack's smile twitched. "Glad to see you are still annoying as ever."
My lips curved faintly. "That is indeed good news. I've had enough of daemons and wraiths."
"Good," Jack shifted on his chair. "The Commander is currently speaking with your family. A private jet is en route to pick you up."
My fingers stilled against the table's surface.
"Who is it?" I asked. "Mother? Gawain?"
Jack shook his head. "No idea yet. We just know they're on their way."
After that, silence stretched between us.
"So," I said eventually, breaking it. "Vice Commander of the Deathwalkers."
He nodded lazily. "Yep."
I tilted my head. "What did you find in the expedition that made the Commander promote you?"
Jack gave an apologetic look.
"I have the tremendous urge to tell you," he admitted. "But I can't."
He leaned back. "Perhaps another time?"
I studied him.
Whatever it was, the knowledge of its existence was enough to keep Jack Raven silent.
I leaned forward as I tossed in a wild guess.
"Is it another Tear?"
The question hung in the air between us
Jack didn't answer. He didn't need to.
The way his silver eyes held mine gave me an answer.
"Well," I muttered. "That's just wonderful."
Another awkward silence.
"Anything else?" I asked.
Jack cleared his throat.
"Apparently," he said, "it seems like you have acquired a new name."
"Everyone who saw you today, back from the dead," he continued, "had the same thought."
He paused for dramatic effect.
"The Ghost of the Tear."
My skin prickled as the temperature seemed to drop.
I stared at him.
So that's how people saw me.
Not as a prince or a Deathwalker.
But a ghost. One that had crawled out of the swirling darkness of the Tear.
"It feels… weird," I admitted. "To receive such an ominous-sounding name."
Jack tilted his head.
"It sounds cool to me," he said with a grin.
His infectious optimism made me smile. "It sure is."
"But names matter," he added more seriously. "Titles have power. They shape perception. And perception shapes reality."
Before I could respond, Jack's hand rose to his communication bud.
He went still as he listened.
As I observed, his expression morphed from relaxed to focused, and then to troubled.
As he lowered his hand, his grin disappeared entirely.
He let out a deep breath.
"Things are getting rather interesting."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"The Commander just received a message from the Order of Lux," Jack replied. "The Saintess is visiting."
My eyes narrowed. "The Saintess? Why?"
It can't be. Phoebe made sure she and Alisax were well hidden.
But this was an X-ranker.
Could the Saintess sense an Incarnus regardless of concealment?
Jack's next words, however, slightly alleviated my worry.
"She said she wants to see Vanis," he shrugged. "Makes sense. Vanis was like an older sister to Saintess Joan."
"Hm," I kept my gaze on him.
There was still something off about his expression.
"There is something else," I said.
He held my gaze.
Then sighed. "Yep."
"Ardor sensors across the world just lit up," he said. "Including ours."
"An immense and sudden ardor spike in the atmosphere," he continued, his expression turning serious, "a pattern that corresponds to the descent of an Incarnus."
A cold lump formed in my throat.
Phoebe?
"It's not me," her voice said clearly in my mind.
The certainty in her voice made the cold lump drop into my stomach.
If it is not Phoebe…
Then who is it?
"So…" I asked carefully. "Which Incarnus is it?"
"The strand that we detected…" Jack's eyebrows furrowed, "was Ignis."
Suddenly, it felt like the room was getting warmer.
"The Ignis Incarnus has descended into Asteris," he continued, "and we have no idea where she is now or why she has descended."
I looked down and noticed that I was tapping my foot.
I swallowed hard, forcing it to remain still.
"Hey, Jack," I said slowly, looking at him.
"Can you gather the Commander and the others, including Vanis?"
Jack frowned. "Why?"
I gave him a rather awkward smile.
"I think…" I paused.
"I think I know why the Ignis Incarnus descended."
His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward.
"Mordred," he said quietly.
"What did you do?"