Chapter 44: A Man So Scary, Ghosts Beg to Be Exorcised
Mina scanned the crowded hospital for a glimpse of Syler. People streamed past in every direction, but with her heightened senses, she could separate them easily. She drew in a breath. The sharp tangle of sweat, blood, sterilizing chemicals, and layers of perfume and cologne flooded her nose. Sorting through them one by one, she caught it at last: Syler's scent, faint but distinct—fresh cookies and warm bread. Too faint. He was already gone.
She pushed through the crowd and stepped outside.
The city lights hit her like a glare, neon bleeding across the pavement as cars hissed past, their hum weaving with laughter and chatter that spilled into the cold autumn air. The hospital loomed at the edge of a commercial strip, alive with movement.
The scent grew stronger. He was close.
Mina pulled out her phone and dialed his number. She waited for the ring, then froze. A familiar ringtone chimed in perfect sync, echoing from just around the corner.
With a smile, she crept forward and peeked.
Syler sat slumped on the ground, head buried against his knees, arms locked tight around himself. His phone buzzed and rang beside him, unanswered.
"Wow, Sy. You're actually ignoring my call?" Mina teased, dropping down beside him.
Syler's body jolted at her voice. He hadn't expected anyone. Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes were rimmed red, his nose raw from wiping. The instant he saw her, his face flushed crimson like steamed lobster.
"M-Mina," he stammered, swiping at the wet lashes. His jaw tightened, bitterness etching itself across his features.
'Why is it always her who sees me like this?'
"You okay?" she asked, tilting her head. Her bangs slipped aside, revealing a small, heart-shaped mole on her forehead he had never noticed before. "I heard you and Elias got into a fight. Seriously? He just got back and you're already arguing? You dumbasses. We should be celebrating, not fighting."
Syler darted his eyes away from her mole. "It wasn't really a fight," he muttered. "Elias had every right to be mad. He's already carrying too much and he nearly died just trying to escape." His knuckles whitened against the fabric of his jacket.
"He's not fine. But I made it all about myself." His voice cracked. He hunched lower, twisting his jacket until the seams strained. "To dump that on him after everything he went through? What kind of friend does that?" His throat burned. He swallowed the tears back.
He felt a soft, warm hand cover his own. When he turned, Mina was smiling, radiant and gentle. The sight sent his heart pounding in his ears, loud enough to drown out the city around them.
"To be honest, what you did was a little shitty…but it wasn't on purpose. We've all been overwhelmed by this whole mess, but we can't let it break us down. If anything, this is when we need each other the most, right?" Mina said, giving his hand a firm squeeze.
"When I left, Elias was feeling guilty, too, for snapping at you. So you're not the only one who wants to make things right. What do you say? It's late, but tomorrow we can go back to the hospital together and patch things up with him." She laced her fingers through his, holding tight.
Syler's breath caught. He cleared his throat, as if that might untangle the storm in his brain.
"Y-yeah," he muttered, torn between the desire to squeeze her hand back and yanking his away. Both urges clashed until neither won.
'God, I really am a coward.'
"You know, this kind of reminds me of when we first met," Mina said, pulling Syler out of his thoughts. "Though, I guess a hospital's a step up from the back of some old gas station." She laughed, her eyes curving into crescents.
Syler grimaced as the memory rushed back—the awkward way he stumbled over his words, too aware of how stunning she was. Just thinking about it made him want to crawl into a hole and disappear.
"Y-you still remember that?" he asked, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. If only she'd forgotten.
"Of course I do. It's a cherished memory of mine. The day I met my precious Sy and thought, I'm gonna make this boy my bride," she stuck out her tongue.
Syler yanked his hand from hers, frowning. "Please, don't tease me," he muttered. Heat crept up his neck, betraying him even as he rolled his eyes.
Mina glanced at her now-empty hand, reluctant to let go. "Hmph, fine," she said, though she meant every word. Syler's low self-esteem was a wall, but she was determined to chip away at it, until he accepted her affection.
"I'm kind of hungry. Let's grab a bite," she beamed as she stood, twirling once before extending her hand like a gentleman offering his arm to a lady.
Syler burst into laughter at her exaggerated gesture, but still took her hand and pulled himself up.
"Not very nice to laugh at a lady," Mina joked, rubbing her nose, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Her embarrassment only made Syler laugh harder.
When he finally caught his breath, he bowed with mock formality. "My bad, my lady. Shall we dine?"
That sent him into another fit of laughter, and Mina could only join in as the two of them strolled toward the bustling commercial district.
—--
Above the national forest outside Everett Fall, a helicopter cut silently through the night sky, its lights off. For someone with vision sharpened by awakened energy, Sable needed no guidance. He scanned the forest below, where blue-and-red flashes and the sweep of white beams lit the darkness. Police swarmed the area, hunting for the criminal who had "escaped."
His jaw tightened as he adjusted the flight path, keeping high enough to avoid their notice.
"So, Chameleon really did die," he muttered, fingers tightening on the control stick.
Rage simmered in his chest. If not for Boar's delay, he would have gone to collect Elias a day earlier. By now, the artifact would be in his hands, and one of the two people responsible for his son's death would already be dead. Instead, Elias had slipped away, resources had been squandered, and a capable guild agent was lost.
Chameleon was more than just useful. If he succeeded tonight, Sable would reward him not only with money, but with an awakening exercise manual to ignite his energy vortex and step into the ranks of the awakened. With the proper tools and opportunities, Chameleon could have grown into a loyal subordinate. And with the artifact secured, Sable could finally mend his fractured vortex and advance to bronze tier.
But a corpse was worthless.
"How did he die?" Sable cursed under his breath. Preparations had been thorough. Every angle covered, or so he had believed.
His thoughts flicked back to their last conversation. Just a day ago, Chameleon had warned him that Elias was no longer just a boy cursed with luck. He'd even suspected the brat had tapped into the artifact. But how? Elias's father had possessed it for years and never once used it. Sable refused to believe that was out of restraint. A former phantom thief would never lack greed.
Even the documents he'd recovered from the time the Crimson Pact possessed it showed that, while they understood the artifact held immense, otherworldly power, they had never found a way to tap into it.
If Elias truly was using the artifact, then he must have possessed the qualifications to unlock its power. But what qualifications? The thought grated on Sable, that a sixteen-year-old had solved a mystery that eluded even the entire Crimson Pact.
His eyes flicked to the forest swarming with police below. "Even if he's unlocked it, he's only tapped a fraction of its power. Otherwise, Chameleon never would've had the chance to corner him here. He might grow stronger… I need to move fast," he muttered, yanking the stick to swing the helicopter in another direction.
Down in the forest, Miss Kim searched with the rest of the squad. Her gaze snapped upward, narrowing on the faint silhouette slicing across the sky.
"A helicopter out here, at this hour, with no lights?" she murmured. She wanted to probe it but it was too far for her energy to reach.
Chief Diaz, overhearing, glanced up as well, but her vision caught only darkness. Unlike Miss Kim, she wasn't awakened. Without enhanced sight, the night swallowed everything.
"You actually saw a chopper?" Diaz asked, doubtful. "Out here, without a flashlight?"
"I have pretty good night vision," Miss Kim said with a calm smile.
Diaz squinted at her golden glasses, her face clearly saying, "Really? With those things on?"
Miss Kim coughed into her hand. "I, uh… wear them for fashion." As an awakener, she no longer needed glasses, but she kept wearing them even after her eyesight had improved.
The silence that followed was somehow louder than the search dogs barking in the distance.
"Uh, okay, Miss… but do you think that helicopter was suspicious?" Diaz asked, resting her hands on her belt as if that might ease the lingering awkwardness.
"Yes. There were no lights on it. If I didn't have decent night vision, no one would've noticed. That's a safety hazard and a violation," Miss Kim replied, ignoring the earlier silence. "But I couldn't see much else, it left too quickly."
Diaz furrowed her brows and crossed her arms. "Maybe an accomplice? The kid did say his kidnapper was waiting for a partner to show up. Damn it. If only he hadn't left so quickly." She groaned, dragging a hand through her black hair.
Meanwhile, the "accomplice" they spoke of was already flying toward a remote island. The landmass was small, mostly mountain and forest, with a single weathered temple at its center. Sable set the helicopter down on the stone platform before the temple and disembarked. His footsteps echoed against the worn steps as he entered.
Inside lay a vast chamber dominated by a shrine mural that spanned the entire wall. A brown-skinned priest with salt-and-pepper hair sat cross-legged before it, robed in black and red, palms open, his face fixed in pious devotion. Though age lined his features and his posture was slightly hunched, the crimson crest embroidered across his back lent him an air of solemn authority.
The mural depicted hordes of twisted demons prostrating before a horn-crowned figure on a throne, its face hidden behind a mask sculpted into the very shape of despair. Some demons tore into their own kin with claws and teeth, spilling entrails onto the stone floor, while others raised still-beating hearts in trembling hands as offerings to the enthroned figure. The walls seemed almost wet with the painted blood, the grotesque devotion captured so vividly it felt alive. Even Sable, steady and unflinching by nature, felt a prickling unease crawl up his spine as if the mural itself were watching him.
"Oh, O Beloved Greater Demon, Sovereign of despair, hear the devotion of your faithful servants," the priest intoned, his voice quivering with fervor as the candle flames shuddered. Shadows stretched long across the mural.
Around them, restless spirits recoiled, fleeing as though driven mad by his prayer. A few hurled themselves at Sable, mouths gaping, limbs torn and dripping spectral blood. He flicked his energy with a single gesture, scattering them like ash on the wind. Their shrieks faded into silence as their forms dissolved.
The priest ended his prayer and turned to Sable with a genial smile, as though he hadn't just staged a scene from a horror movie. When his eyes opened, a milky white film clouded them, revealing his blindness.
"Sable, it's good to see you. I hadn't expected you back so soon," the priest said with a beaming smile, recognizing his most important patron.
"Priest Batel, your talisman was less than satisfactory. The man I gave it to still died within days," Sable growled. Priests in the organization were the only ones who did not use monikers; they believed that offering their true names was the ultimate act of devotion to the Greater Demon, the object of their worship.
Instead of defending himself or showing anger, Priest Batel only smiled, the wrinkles on his face casting eerie shadows. "I did sense one of my creations burn away… Curious. They should last one to two years. For it to vanish so quickly, you must have faced something dangerous, Mr. Sable. Even a silver-tier awakener couldn't consume it so fast. Tell me. Are you perhaps facing a god?"
Sable's eyes narrowed. To call an unawakened teenage boy a god was an insult to his pride.
"Since when do you question your clients? My business is my own," he snapped, his iron-tier aura spilling out. "Even if you're a bronze-tier monster, you've already sacrificed your sight, half of your lifespan, and more than half your energy to your god. You're not strong enough to challenge me, even if I am a tier lower."
Priest Batel merely shrugged, unfazed by the aura. "Perhaps… I've never been fond of combat, least of all with the client who brings me the most coin, anyway. Now, I understand your dissatisfaction. So, what can I do for you?" he said, rising from the floor and returning to business.
Sable pinched his fingers together in thought before speaking. "Give me another of those talismans."
Priest Batel shook his head. "I'm afraid not. You bought the only one I had. They're extremely difficult and costly to make. I only managed to create one this year. If you're not in a rush, you could wait a few months, perhaps half a year, and see if I succeed in crafting another. But judging from your tone, it seems you need something useful right now," he said, stroking his chin.
Sable's jaw tightened. The priest was right. Who knew how much stronger Elias might become in just a few months? He'd already grown strong enough to defeat Chameleon after barely a month.
"What are your other options? I need something that can trap a target or multiple targets. And I need it to hold off a bronze-tier, even if only temporarily." His thoughts flicked to Choi Kim, who clinged close to Elias and his sister. If she interfered, it could cost him his life.
Batel smiled, baring his teeth in a way that twisted his face into something devilish. "Oh, I've got just the thing for you." With a chuckle, he drew a wrinkled hand from his robes, revealing a blood-red ring on his finger. In his palm appeared a glowing metal sphere etched with intricate patterns.
Sable's breath hitched, his gaze fixed on the ring. A space array ring. Rare, even among awakened. His eyes burned with greed.
Batel laughed and tucked the ring away, sensing Sable's stare despite his blindness. "Sorry, but this one's not for sale."
He passed the sphere to his other hand instead. "This, however, is. A powerful array of my own making. It traps an area of fifty thousand cubic meters, twisting it into a maze. Iron-tier and lower will have their energy stripped to nothing. Bronze-tiers will only weaken, but they'll struggle to break it, unless they're an array master like me." He extended the sphere toward Sable.
The metal was cold against Sable's skin as he examined it. "This will do," he said with grim satisfaction.
"Hold on," Batel raised a hand. "There's a catch. As the owner, you won't be exempt from its effects. The array will strip your strength as well. You'll be no better than a normal man while inside it. If a bronze-tier is trapped with you, they'll still pose a threat."
"That's fine," Sable said without hesitation. All he needed was to strike while Choi Kim was away. As for ordinary people? They didn't concern him. Even stripped of power, he was far deadlier than any common man. He was Sable—the legendary prodigy of the Assassin's Guild.
I'll pay the usual way," Sable said, slipping the array ball into his trouser pocket.
Batel pressed his palms together in a mock prayer. "Thank you for your faithful patronage."
Sable gave a curt nod and headed for the door.
"Sable," Batel called out, his voice low, "as a long time friend and one who values his greatest customer, I'll warn you. You're stirring murky waters. Keep at it, and your hand may be bitten off… or worse, you may be dragged beneath, never to return."
Sable clenched his fists and snorted. "We'll see who gets dragged." He strode into the dark night, his footsteps soft against the stone, the only trace of his departure.