Quantum City was beautiful.
That was something that Grace could ascertain perfectly. There was not an ounce in his mind that doubted this sentiment. Because, despite the crime and disgustingness that was buried deep in the soil of the city--there was many things that exceeded the plague-like image.
Walking out of the apartment alongside his mentor, Wilson Gray, Grace once again stared at the magnificent scenery. Even though they were in a rather lackluster part of the city, Grace could still see the dominating structures that loomed overhead.
They shone quietly.
Grace entered the car that was parked not too far away from the apartment. He seated himself in a comfortable manner and utilized the seat belt. Grace looked out the window, again admiring the landscape as Wilson drove off. As they neared the main city, Grace could clearly see the shift between horizons.
Now, there were a multitude of technological achievements being flaunted. Kids roamed around the streets, hovering over the ground with these machinations.
"Hoverboards," Wilson told. "You can view them akin to bikes and scooters. Though these are always more efficient." You could practically fly in the air, gliding as if they were paragliders. Though it would only be for a moment--it was without a doubt something straight out of the future.
"Why is Quantum City - and some parts of the Nebula continent - the only places that don these?" Grace asked.
He knew the answer, but he wondered if there were any changes to the reasons as to why there were a vastly different as to why continents did not adopt the same methods.
"Tsk. Simple word: Ideals. The continent thinks the utilization of technology will bring a new age. Mechanical arms that can bust down houses; hoverboards that can traverse better than a bike; and even the pursuit of strength. Those training pods are the only things that other continents adopted."
The political strife between these ideals would provide the Great Families of the Nebula continent to push against the other families, trying to spread their ideals and etch them into the other family's thoughts.
Grace looked at the towering towers that stood much further away from the tiny car that they were in.
Typhoon Electric Company.
First forged by the eccentric Tim Typhoon many decades ago - much before the world met revolutionary progress - the company received its first throttle to fame once it created the hoverboard after it got the backing of the Great Families of this continent.
The Stareye Family and the Creslu Family.
Grace frowned.
The author didn't do much with it though. They mostly stayed in the background for the most part. During certain parts, the author of Blight had glazed through certain events or quickly sauntered out of major events due to laziness and fatigue.
So--
The full extent of the Typhoon Electric Company was unknown to even Grace himself. Even through the recollection of blogs he could remember--they didn't touch much on the Typhoon Electric Company.
"At some point," Grace spoke solemnly. "These families will probably be dangerous for someone like me." Wilson glanced at him for a moment while they waited for the light to turn green.
"Yes," Wilson told him. "The Great Families of this continent... they are ambitious. And it is because their ambitions are so lively that their ideals can come to life." The older man frowned, turning to the left and entering a new street.
Light of the sun shined down, the terrific rays of light casting a subtle burn on Grace's thigh. Shifting his leg, Grace looked at Wilson.
His lips pulled apart, uttering a simple question.
"Do you think... killing them is unavoidable?"
Wilson paused for a moment, thinking about an answer before he sighed and shook his head from the left to the right.
"Truthfully: no," he spoke in earnest.
Conflict between the families would come eventually, and that was the truth that Wilson had to spill. There were too many people that had to be swayed one way that the likelihood of succeeding was far too low to be credible or relied upon.
They discussed more things and looked at many other things that were along the road. But these were put to a stop when Wilson got a ring on his phone. There was a momentary sigh as Wilson turned into a parking lot and quickly parked his car.
"Hello?" He asked. There were quiet murmurs from the other side of the phone, relaying Wilson information. Wilson widened his eyes, his eyes hardening.
"Same person?" Wilson asked aloud.
After some time, Wilson put down the phone and sighed.
"A case?" Grace wondered.
Wilson nodded his head.
"How bad is it?" Grace asked once getting confirmation. This prompted Wilson to look at Grace with a hardened look.
"We have a slimy serial killer to catch."
~~~
Rufus was absolutely tired. His back was leaning against the prison walls, the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and making its way down to his shirt--life was certainly peachy.
After eating at the cafeteria, they were practically enslaved to cleaning up after the inmates. He did not know what he had been expecting when he decided to come to Obsidian, but it was certainly not this.
"Lying pieces of shit," he muttered. He looked to his side as Ivan forced himself to continue working. Ivan turned back, hissing at Rufus while looking at him and at various places in Obsidian.
"...You're going to be chewed out..." He murmured quietly, but loud enough for Rufus to hear. The red-haired noble shrugged his shoulder and cracked his neck by shifting it left and right.
"I'll be alright... as long as I don't get caught." He flashed a grin as he forced himself up. Rufus picked up his bucket and mop, marching along the level in an unenthusiastic way.
"I've decided," Rufus announced quietly, wiping the floor up and down with the wet mop that made sounds of wet slaps. "To reach level two before the end of the week." Ivan stared at Rufus, his eyes flaring with a burning ambition.
"There is no way I'll allow myself to rot in level one for the remainder of my stay. Mentorship? More like an excuse to do labor."
Of course... he was going to do more labor because that was the only way they supposedly could progress and gain recognition. He didn't like the contradiction, but he could not avoid responsibilities being thrusted onto his hands.
"Then once I get to level two... I'm gunning it for level three."
It was a fire, akin to the blazing glory of the God he devoted himself to. And so Ivan watched as Rufus pushed his head forward, leaning slightly. Rufus then started scrubbing the floor at an even faster pace than originally.
Ivan chuckled.
He, too, wanted to see the higher floors.
~~~
Grace stepped out of the car, the flashing lights of blue and red bombarding his vision. He watched as he looked at the scene of the crime--a small apartment that was surrounded by copious amounts of yellow caution tape.
Grace briefly glanced behind him, his eyes that shone like a diamond gem catching the numerous individuals that were beyond the crime scene, watching everything unfold. Grace turned back, fixing his gaze at Wilson. The latter started walking towards the officers present at the scene.
Unlike yesterday, these officers were a different batch. Grace figured that they were probably situated at this part of the city, where crime would meet its zenith. Following Wilson quietly, Grace stopped right behind him as Wilson pulled out his credentials.
"Ah, Detective Gray." Unlike yesterday, the officer that addressed him was addressing him in a more notable way.
"My assistant and I will be looking at the corpse." The officer raised an eyebrow, his gaze switching from Wilson to Grace.
"Didn't know you took assistants..." The officer muttered, chuckling.
"I don't. This is temporary."
"Well," the officer focused his gaze onto Grace. "What is your name?" He asked him. Grace had mulled over this thought for awhile now. As he was now the apprentice of an infamous detective in Quantum City, it only made sense for him to harbor an alias that held meaning.
Grace smiled thinly.
"Detective Walker."
A new detective was in town, ready to take on Quantum City.
Wilson held back a smirk, only letting out a small chuckle of amusement. Wilson walked forward, guiding himself to the entrance of the apartment.
Grace did the same.
Arriving inside of the household, Grace could vividly see the minimalistic interior design. It wasn't anything special--an occasional painting that still had a price tag hooked near the bottom. And an abundance of vases that gave the person who lived here an artistic outward appearance.
"In the bedroom," an officer said from behind them, standing near the entrance of the apartment building. Wilson nodded his head, remaining steady as the two detectives sauntered along the hardwood floors. Stumbling at another series of caution signs, they lifted it up, entering the main scene of the crime.
Grace looked up, a bitter look spreading across his face.
It was a man that seemed to be in his early thirties, though it was hard to tell due to the blood that was smothering his face. A medium-length brown hair dyed in his own blood as his hands were tied to the ceiling, blood trickling down like a waterfall.
His stomach was carved from the inside, a number engraved with the man's flesh.
[3]
The number three stood with dominance. Grace furrowed his eyebrows, gazing at the number attentively.
"Three... so the third victim?" Grace asked.
Wilson nodded.
"Indeed. The first recorded death occurred during late October, in which a man was similarly hung on a ceiling, the number one being carved on their stomach."
"Are you unable to track the culprit down?"
Wilson shook his head.
"The crime scene replication worked half-heartedly. Moreover, I did not have footprints to guide me to an individual."
"Does that mean the culprit is an Intermediate-Grade?"
Wilson nodded his head.
"Yes. And not only that--they're a devotee for the Black Veil Goddess. They are able to erase their traces, the complete antithesis to my ability."
Grace widened his eyes.
"But..." Wilson let out a small smirk as he let the word draw out. "We have two things that can dwindle their identity." He pointed at the dead body that hung right in front of them.
"The last two victims were workers for Typhoon Electric Company. And look--" Wilson pointed at the blazer that the man wore, completely torn and smothered in blood. But there was a tag that had the words "Typhoon Electric Company" engraved-- "he is a worker, as well."
"A vendetta?" Grace asked.
"Possibly. But it's clear that, if they are targeting these workers in a calculated manner, they want it to be known."
Grace narrowed his eyes at the man once again. He studied his features, the same features that were flood with despair and blood.
A message.
It was a message not to the authorities or Wilson, but to Typhoon Electric Company. That a dangerous man was gunning for them--though to create change... it would need much more than just an intermediate-grade bastard.
"Second thing?" Grace then asked.
Wilson's smirked widened as he took out something from his pocket. It was a small fabric that was close to being see-through.
"Use that ring of yours to identify what this is."
Grace did as he was told and checked out what Wilson wanted him to see. Then, when he did, his eyes widened.
[Veil of Mercury]
[Grade: A+]
[Description: Long ago, Mercury kneeled underneath infinity. Underneath the marble, his skin shed, becoming a veil of concealment.]
[Effect: Perfectly replicate a person's face and height and gender. DNA required upon unknown figures.]
[Confirmed DNA Samples: Hana Arden, Marcel Hogan, Ariel Lirt, Caroline Northrop, Joanna Mason, Jaxtyn Twist, Luther Whitaker, Rheie Fisher, Wes Crosby, Culhwch Stacy, Camryn Dick, Sofia Strange, Bret Forester, Daisy Wats, Braylon Saunders, Damokles Clarke, Lindsie Poole, Maya Rake, Flanagan Dixon, Lally Nye, Freyr Earl, Silenus Leonard, Stanley Stagg.]
"It took me awhile to get this back, but it was worth it."
But Grace was confused.
"It says you need DNA to replicate another person. You said the devotee was under the Black Veil Goddess and that they can erase their traces."
"Yes, I did say that."
"So... wouldn't this be useless in this scenario?"
"Hardly."
"How so?"
"Goodness--so many questions with you," Wilson grumbled as he waved the Veil of Mercury around. "But I'll answer it. The devotee did erase their traces. But does that mean he erased everything?" He smirked.
"I'll teach you something, kid. When people look for DNA samples, they often try and find fingerprints, blood, or saliva." He waved his hand again, acting as if the veil caught something.
"The culprit is a human, without a doubt. They breathe." He placed the veil on his face.
"Even if the sample of the DNA is so minuscule and on the verge of decaying into nothingness--it is more than enough to stimulate this veil."
Wilson's face began to change.