Erwin carefully lowered the heavy cast-iron sewer lid back into place, sealing them underground. The stench was overpowering. Havisa immediately buried her nose in Erwin's borrowed scarf, grateful for its cleaner scent.
"Why are we in the sewer?" Domin groaned, his voice echoing slightly in the damp tunnel.
"The perimeter on the TCW compound is tight," Erwin explained, checking his internal map. "This is the only way in unnoticed, and..."
"And what?" Havisa mumbled through the scarf.
"You'll see it when we get there," Erwin said cryptically.
After several winding turns and a trek through inches of grime, they arrived at a rusted ladder leading up to a maintenance shaft.
"Domin," Erwin whispered. "Can you open it slowly?"
Domin climbed up. With a heavy, straining push of his massive shoulder, he cracked the lid open, then lifted it aside. He peered out. "Whoa," he whispered.
Erwin and Havisa climbed up after him. They found themselves in a secluded garden shed, directly behind the main mansion of the Guilon estate.
"A direct line to the back of Guilon's mansion," Erwin said, dusting himself off.
"How do you know this?" Havisa asked, suspicious.
"I studied the city's infrastructure when I arrived," Erwin lied smoothly. "Since there's a hidden sewer system underneath the modern one, all you need to do is line things up with the map, and voila. We got here." The truth, of course, was that one of Sebas's spiders had mapped this exact route days ago.
"Well," Havisa said, looking at the locked back window of the mansion. "Can't let Domin burst through the front door, can we?"
"Why not?" Domin asked, flexing his arm.
Havisa reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small, sleek lockpick set. Domin and Erwin watched as she deftly inserted a pick into the window latch.
"She's more like a criminal than a Watcher's daughter," Domin muttered.
"Shut up," Havisa hissed, working the tools. "Try being locked in handcuffs in your room whenever you stepped out of line growing up. You learn lockpicking by nature."
Click. The latch turned.
"Dark backstory aside," Erwin whispered, "you did good."
Havisa slid the window open and leaped inside with cat-like grace. "Thanks," she whispered back.
Erwin and Domin followed. "Follow me," Erwin commanded softly.
They moved like shadows through the opulent, tacky mansion, avoiding the patrolling TCW guards who were too busy chatting and laughing to notice three intruders. They followed Erwin up the grand staircase, floor after floor.
"How do you know the layout?" Havisa whispered, her suspicion returning.
"Questions later," Erwin replied.
Suddenly, Erwin felt a strange sensation, as if the air pressure dropped and all sound was sucked out of the world for a split second. The Silencing Rune had been activated. Havisa and Domin didn't react; they didn't feel a thing. 'That's weird,' Erwin thought. 'Why am I the only one who felt it?' But there was no time to ponder his own growing sensitivity.
They arrived at the top floor, outside Guilon's private quarters. Erwin held up a hand, a tactical gesture for them to stop and take positions on either side of the heavy oak door.
"What is your plan?" Domin mouthed.
Erwin gestured for silence. He cleared his throat quietly, adjusting his pitch and tone. Using the Conan card's mimicry ability, he perfectly replicated the voice of a guard they had passed on the floor below.
"Bo-boss," he stammered through the door. "We got some problem."
From the other side, a voice unhinged, paranoid, and tired answered. "Who... Tom? What do you mean, problem?"
"You gotta check this," Erwin said, injecting panic into his voice. "We don't know what to do."
The lock clicked. As Guilon pulled the door open, his face twisted in irritation, he snarled, "I swear if it—"
He was met with a blur of motion. Erwin struck fast—a jab to the throat to silence him, followed by a brutal combination of punches to the solar plexus and jaw. Guilon's eyes rolled back, and his body slumped down, unconscious before he hit the floor.
Then, disaster.
From down the hall, a bathroom toilet flushed. The door opened, and a guard walked out, buckling his belt. He looked up and saw the three intruders standing over his unconscious boss.
They stared at each other for a frozen second.
Then Domin and Havisa leaped inside the room. At the same exact moment, the guard raised his rune-rifle and blasted several rounds of suppressed but loud magical energy in their direction.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.
On the second floor below, Chief Black, who was meticulously and silently sweeping the hallway, knocking out guards one by one, froze. He heard the impacts on the floor above.
His eyes narrowed. The silence was broken. He gestured sharply to his team.
"Pick up the pace."
…
Outside the mansion, Wolfe, crouched behind the mobile runic projector, pressed a hand to his ear. Through the magical dampening field, he heard the distinct, rhythmic thump-thump of rune-fire.
"Shit," he hissed, checking the gauge on the projector. The mana crystal was glowing red hot. "It's about to enter the interval. I need two minutes to cycle it down or it'll blow!"
A voice crackled over the radio. It was Chief Black, his tone brooking no argument. "No time. It's now or never. We are picking up the pace. Breach. Breach. Breach."
Wolfe cursed under his breath. "Shit! All units, patrol around the perimeter! Tighten the net! Come closer to the mansion! If the silence drops, I want a wall of bodies to keep the noise in!"
…
Inside the chaos of the top floor, Erwin, Havisa, and Domin were pinned down behind a heavy oak desk, wood chips exploding around them as the guards unleashed a barrage of rune-fire.
"What can we do?!" Havisa yelled over the noise.
Erwin risked a glance over the top of the desk. The room was a wreck, but the most important detail was missing. Guilon's body was gone. The unconscious gang leader had vanished.
"Where is he?" Erwin muttered, his eyes scanning the room frantically.
"Is that even important right now?!" Domin shouted, flinching as a shot took a chunk out of the floorboard near his foot.
Erwin looked around, his mind racing. His eyes landed on a small, metallic disc on the belt of one of the unconscious guards near them—a standard-issue Watcher Flash Rune, likely stolen during a previous skirmish.
He grabbed it. "Cover your eyes!"
He waited for the rhythm of the shots to pause—the reload. Now.
He pulled the pin and hurled the disc over the desk, straight through the splintered remains of the door.
FZZZ-POP!
A blinding, magnesium-white light flooded the hallway, followed by the screams of the blinded guards.
"Go!" Erwin commanded.
Domin and Havisa leaped over the desk. They grabbed the dropped weapons of the disoriented guards. "HANDS IN THE AIR! RIGHT NOW!" Domin roared, channeling his inner Goliath.
The guards, blinking tears from their eyes and disarmed, raised their hands in surrender. Domin and Havisa stood there, chests heaving, adrenaline coursing through their veins.
Then, heavy boots thundered up the stairs behind them.
"HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" Chief Black's voice boomed as he and his SWAT team surged into the hallway, weapons raised.
Domin and Havisa froze, slowly turning around with their hands up.
Black lowered his weapon slightly, his eyes narrowing. "You too?"
"We... we're Watchers," Domin stammered, the adrenaline crash hitting him hard.
"Well, not yet," Havisa corrected breathlessly. "Tomorrow is our inauguration."
Céline pushed past the SWAT team, her face a mask of fury. "What the hell are you doing in here?!" Then she stopped, her eyes fixing on the red scarf wrapped around Havisa's neck. Recognition flashed in her eyes.
"You came here with Erwin, didn't you?" Céline demanded, scanning the hallway. "Where is he?"
Domin and Havisa looked back at the spot behind the desk where they had been hiding.
It was empty.
"He... he was just here," Havisa said, confused.
Black ignored them, stepping into Guilon's private quarters. "Secure the prisoners," he ordered his team. He began to sweep the room, his eyes scanning the floor not for enemies, but for signs. "I need the letter. The proof."
"Chief!" one of the SWAT officers called out from near the bed. He held up a crumpled, blood-stained piece of parchment with a gold seal. "We found it! The Royal Seal."
"Good," Black said, taking the evidence and slipping it into his coat. "Now, let me find the man."
He walked to the far wall, inspecting a large, heavy bookshelf. He crouched down, spotting faint scrape marks on the floorboards—marks that were fresh. He ran his hand along several spine of books, to find the hidden catch.
Click.
The bookshelf swung open silently, revealing a dark, narrow tunnel with a single set of stone stairs leading down into the darkness. A cool, damp draft blew up from below.
"Whoa," Domin whispered.
"Did... did Erwin go down there?" Céline asked, moving to Black's side.
"Most likely," Black said, peering into the gloom. He looked at the stairs, then back at the trainees. "You guys came from the sewer, huh?"
"How do you know?" Havisa asked, surprised.
"Because your friend left faint muddy trails on the carpet leading to this door," Black said, pointing to the subtle boot prints that only a master tracker—or a paranoid Chief of Police—would notice.
He checked his weapon. "All of you, fall back. This tunnel most likely leads back to the sewer system. I'm going solo."
"Sir?" a SWAT leader protested.
"Tell the perimeter units to stand by around the open sewer tunnels within a two-block radius," Black commanded, his voice final. "I don't want him spooked. I'll flush him out."
"Yes, Chief," Céline said, understanding that 'him' meant both Guilon and, likely, Erwin.
Black stepped into the darkness of the secret passage.
Céline turned back to the two trainees, crossing her arms. She looked from Domin to Havisa, her expression stern.
"You three," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "will be in a lot of trouble."
…
Guilon ran through the muck of the sewer tunnel, his breath coming in ragged gasps. What Erwin hadn't realized back in the mansion was that Guilon was far more prepared and far more paranoid than he appeared. The moment he had heard the strange voice outside his door, he had popped a black-market rejuvenation pill, a potent alchemical stimulant he'd bought just that morning.
When Erwin struck, Guilon hadn't been knocked out; he had cracked the pill between his teeth, letting the rush of chemicals flood his system, keeping him awake while his body went limp. He had played dead, listening to the intruders. He didn't know who the three kids were, but his manic, drug-fueled brain had reached a certainty: they were thieves here to steal his riches. The riches the gods had given him.
"My stash... gotta get to the stash..." he muttered, his eyes darting around the dark tunnel. He scrambled toward the old, abandoned waste opening in the west sector. It hadn't been operational in decades, which made it the perfect escape route.
He stumbled into the opening, a large, circular chamber where the sewer spilled out into an overflow canal. He stopped, bathed in the sudden, stark illumination of the moonlight filtering down from the grate above.
But he wasn't alone.
A silhouette stood casually against the curved wall, a figure in a fine suit and a veiled hat, looking completely out of place in the filth.
"Misela's advisor," Guilon hissed, recognizing the posture instantly. "So... you were the one ruining my empire."
Sebas didn't move. In the Animus Hub, he sent a calm, mental projection. 'Young Master Erwin, you are at the East opening. Guilon is here, at the West.'
Miles away, in the echoing tunnels of the East sector, Erwin skid to a halt. "What? Fuck!" He turned and sprinted back, his lungs burning.
Back in the West opening, Guilon was unraveling. His hair was wild, his eyes bloodshot from the drug and the stress. "Answer me!" he screamed, his voice echoing off the wet stones. "You orchestrated all this, right?! There was a suspicion in the back of my head... all this chaos, all these gangs fighting... and there is one side that never makes a move. The Hao Pavilion. You never once entered the battlefield, yet your business is thriving while we bleed!"
Sebas pushed off the wall. "It is nothing personal, mutt," he said, his voice a smooth, indifferent baritone from behind the veil. "You just happen to be easily motivated."
He moved. It wasn't a dash; it was a blur. He closed the distance in a heartbeat. He didn't punch; he simply placed his open palm on Guilon's face and slammed him downward.
BAMM!!
The sound of Guilon's skull hitting the stone floor was sickeningly loud. The gang leader groaned, the fight instantly drained out of him.
"You better act the part," Sebas whispered.
"You bitc—" Guilon tried to shout.
"HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"
A commanding voice boomed from the tunnel entrance. Chief Thorne Black emerged from the shadows, his rune-rifle leveled perfectly at Sebas's chest.
Sebas didn't flinch. He calmly placed his polished shoe on Guilon's neck, pinning the struggling man to the ground, and slowly raised his gloved hands in a gesture of mock surrender.
Black kept his aim steady, reaching for his shoulder radio with one hand. "Command, this is Black. I've got eyes on the primary target. He's down and being held by an unidentified second suspect. I am at the West sewer opening."
Céline's voice crackled back, tense and loud. "West sewer opening. Advise if Code 4."
"Negative on Code 4," Black said, his eyes locked on the veiled figure. "I need units now."
"Large-scale 415 crowd blocking the access route," Céline reported, her voice frustrated. "A riot just broke out two blocks north. They're blocking the entire street. Estimated arrival is extended."
From a side tunnel, Erwin finally arrived. He saw the scene: Sebas standing over the defeated Guilon, and Chief Black holding them at gunpoint. He was too late to make the arrest himself. He immediately activated the stealth capabilities of his [Background Character] trait, blending into the deep shadows of the tunnel archway to observe.
Black lowered the radio, his gaze never wavering from Sebas. "You're the one causing the riot above," he stated, it wasn't a question.
"I don't know what you are talking about," Sebas replied smoothly.
"A sudden riot," Black continued, his voice cold, "appearing at the exact moment I need backup, holding my men back so you could be here alone with him." He paused, his knuckles whitening on his rifle. "You're the one puppeting this chaos."
Sebas, still with his hands raised, smiled beneath the veil. He slowly brought his hands together and clapped.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"Bravo," Sebas purred. "The late audience member somehow grasped the meaning behind the play. Do you want backstage access as a reward?"
Chief Thorne Black kept his rune-rifle trained on the unknown figure. The eastern traditional garments and the veiled hat made identification impossible, but the aura radiating from the man was undeniable. It was heavy, suffocating—the pressure of a predator.
"Turn yourself in," Black commanded, his voice echoing in the damp chamber. "That will be my only offer."
In the silence of the Animus Hub, a split-second conversation took place.
'Wanna do it now?' Sebas asked, his mental voice calm.
'There is no other way,' Erwin replied from the tunnel above. 'Make it look convincing.'
BANG.
A shot rang out from the darkness of the upper tunnel. A standard-issue electrum round slammed into Sebas's shoulder. He jerked back with a grunt of pain, his hand flying to the impact site, his posture breaking just enough to step away from the pinned Guilon.
Black didn't hesitate. He sprinted forward, grabbing the groaning Guilon by the collar and dragging him back toward the tunnel entrance, putting himself between the gang leader and the veiled threat.
Erwin jumped down from the ledge, landing in a crouch beside the Chief, his smoking rune-rifle in hand.
"Erwin," Black said without looking at him, his eyes fixed on Sebas. "I want to say that was reckless. But you helped me."
Sebas, clutching his shoulder, let out a laugh. It started low and built into a terrifying, manic cackle that bounced off the sewer walls. "You think a toy gun hurts?"
"He is more powerful than I thought," Black muttered, assessing the minimal damage the round had done. He reached behind his back and pulled out a large, thick scroll case. "Back off, Erwin. Make sure you keep your eyes on him. If he moves toward the prisoner, put him down."
"You want to fight him alone, sir?" Erwin asked, feigning concern.
"I heard you're from the Athenean Concord," Black said, gripping the scroll. "You've probably seen better magical equipment in your Sentinel days."
He bit his thumb, drawing blood, and smeared a single, sharp line across the seal of the scroll. He threw it into the air.
"But I've got to show you," Black said, a fierce grin appearing, "that we Watchers are better than Sentinels."
The scroll unfurled in mid-air, defying gravity. It glowed with an intense, angry red light that illuminated the slimy walls of the sewer. From within the parchment, ripples of magical energy distorted the air, and then, weapons began to emerge. Not just one or two—dozens. Rune-rifles, heavy repeaters, spears, swords, axes—they floated out, hovering around Black like a halo of steel and destruction.
"Support me from there with these," Black said, snatching two heavy-duty rifles from the air and tossing them to Erwin.
Then, he turned back to Sebas. The floating arsenal reoriented, aiming at the butler. Black sprinted forward.
He grabbed two floating hand-cannons from the air as he ran. BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!
He unleashed a torrent of high-caliber runic fire. Sebas moved. It wasn't the blur of speed he had used on Guilon; it was a calculated, desperate-looking dance. He swayed his hips, tilted his head, and twisted his torso. Every bullet missed by a millimeter, tearing into the stone wall behind him. Sebas was adjusting his power perfectly, making it look like he was barely surviving the onslaught.
Black didn't stop. As his pistols clicked empty, he simply let go of them. They dissolved into light before hitting the ground. In the same motion, he snatched a long, heavy halberd from his floating armory.
He closed the distance. SWISH!
The heavy blade cleaved the air. Sebas raised his arm, his sleeve fluttering as he parried the shaft of the weapon with the back of his hand, the impact creating a shockwave that kicked up sewer water.
"Where did you get these?" Sebas asked, feigning strain as he pushed back.
Black twisted the halberd, using the momentum to launch a flurry of strikes—high, low, mid. "You can see the requisition forms once you become a Chief," Black grunted, driving the butt of the spear into Sebas's stomach. "So your chance is probably zero!"
Sebas took the hit. He grunted, doubling over slightly, allowing himself to be pushed back. He twisted away from a follow-up slash, letting the blade nick his coat, shredding the expensive fabric. He had to sell it. If he went all out, he would kill the Chief in a heartbeat.
Black pressed the advantage, discarding the halberd for a pair of glowing short swords, slashing with a speed that blurred the eyes. Sebas weaved, backing up toward the water's edge.
Suddenly, Black leaped back, creating distance.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
Erwin, from the backline, opened fire with the heavy rifles Black had given him, providing suppressing fire. Sebas was forced to cross his arms and block, his Qi flaring visibly to deflect the rounds.
Black, now ten feet away, smiled. He reached into his halo and grabbed a massive, two-handed claymore that hummed with kinetic energy.
"Hey," Black called out, hefting the giant sword effortlessly. "Eyes on me."
He struck again.
"I heard the previous Chief was a fatty with a hunger for women," Sebas taunted, his voice echoing off the damp walls as he ducked a vicious horizontal slash. "You seem to have a different appetite."
Black ground his teeth, his jaw muscles bunching. He discarded the claymore, which dissolved into red light, and snatched two sleek, razor-sharp scimitars from the air. "Give up!"
He launched himself forward in a whirlwind of steel. Sebas didn't retreat; he stepped into the storm. He caught the flat of one blade between his palms, stopping it inches from his veiled face, then twisted his body to let the second blade slice harmlessly through the air where his ribs had been a second before. He feigned a stumble, crying out as if the wind of the blade had cut him.
Black pressed the advantage, his eyes alight with the thrill of a worthy opponent. He pivoted, bringing both blades down in a cross-slash. Sebas threw himself backward, landing in a crouch, panting heavily. It was a performance worthy of an award. He let his Qi flare erratically, mimicking exhaustion.
CRACK!
Erwin's shot took a chunk out of the stone floor near Sebas's foot, forcing him to roll to the side.
"You're cornered!" Black shouted, lunging again.
Sebas parried with a bare hand, his Qi hardening his skin just enough to deflect the blow but not enough to break the sword. He staggered back, clutching his arm as if the impact had shattered bone. Black saw the opening and drove forward, confident he had the upper hand.
But then, a calculated misstep. Black overextended on a thrust. Sebas didn't dodge. He stepped forward, grabbing Black's wrists in a grip of iron. For a split second, the charade dropped. Black looked into the darkness beneath the veil and saw the terrifying, golden slit-pupils of a dragon. He tried to pull back, but he was immovable.
"Got you," Sebas whispered.
But Black wasn't helpless. With a thought, the floating arsenal around him reacted. Three floating rune-pistols swiveled inward, aiming point-blank at Sebas's chest.
BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!
Sebas was forced to release Black's wrists and leap backward, his coat shredding as the magical rounds impacted his chest. He grunted in very convincing approximation pain, as the force threw him against the sewer wall.
Before he could recover, Erwin unleashed a barrage of suppressing fire from the upper ledge, pinning him down.
Sirens wailed from the grate above, loud and close. The cavalry had arrived.
Sebas looked up at the grate, then at the two Watchers. He straightened his ruined coat, his composure returning instantly.
"Erwin Smith. Thorne Black," he announced, his voice cold and promising retribution. "I will remember tonight. And I will repay this humiliation one hundred times over."
He stepped backward, melting into the deep shadows of a side tunnel. When the next flicker of light hit the spot, he was gone.
Erwin scrambled down from the ledge, running to Black's side. The Chief was panting, his uniform sliced in places, a shallow cut bleeding on his cheek. "Chief! Are you okay?"
Black leaned on his knees, catching his breath. "I'm okay," he wheezed. "Thanks for the clutch, son."
"ERWIN! CHIEF!" Céline's voice echoed from the opening above.
Erwin looked up and waved. A beam of runic light hit them, blindingly bright. "We're here!"
"Bring the ladder!" Céline commanded.
Chief Black straightened up, holstering his remaining weapons as the floating arsenal dissolved into light. He walked over to the unconscious, handcuffed form of Guilon, who was still slumped against the wall where Black had dragged him. He checked the gang leader's pulse.
"Is he alive?" Black asked.
"Is that important?" Erwin asked, his voice flat.
Black looked at the trainee, a hard look in his eyes. "He is still innocent until proven guilty."
**A/N**
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**A/N**