The memory of the strange, tragic Alistair Hamilton case felt like a cold phantom at his back.
The blue glass shard, smooth and cool against Kalvin's palm, was the only tangible clue in a mystery that had swallowed his life whole. He was no longer just a man trying to survive in a strange new world; he was Kalvin Astron, the Sleuth. This wasn't a simple missing person—it was a cryptic symbol and the youth's final, desperate whisper about the "light dazzling his eyes." It bore the unmistakable, dangerous stain of a Nexus incident, perhaps even touching the fringes of the 'True Creator' cult—that whispered-of, fictional god whose existence had become horrifyingly real through human fear.
Kalvin navigated the familiar morning throng of Everland, his new black coat and round hat completing the necessary façade. He'd embraced the role: the weekly five gold coins and the café front were merely tools. His true quarry was power, and the faint, persistent thrum of growing spiritual energy he felt, transmitted secretly from his Disciple Alik in Sunlight City, was a constant, satisfying reminder of his real work.
He moved with the practiced, unhurried gait of a man who observed without being seen. His destination was a brick building in the cleaner commercial district, entirely unassuming, where James Smith and the shadowy Nexus organization conducted their business. It was a far cry from the dusty fortune teller's den of their first meeting; efficiency, Kalvin knew, was the only true religion of the powerful.
He paused before the plain wooden door, gave a single, solid rap with his cane, and the mechanism clicked.
A tall, sharp-eyed man—one of Smith's lieutenants—stood inside. "Mr. Astron," the man said, his voice clipped and flat. "Smith is expecting you. Straight through."
Kalvin passed him, walking into a small, dimly lit office. James Smith, his well-built frame encased in a fresh black coat, sat behind a mahogany desk cluttered with sealed documents. Smith didn't look up, instead tapping a thick finger on a sheet of parchment.
"Detective," Smith said, his voice cold as a vault door, finally raising his keen black eyes to meet Kalvin's. "You're late. Time is a precious resource in our line of work. Tell me you have something concrete on the Hamilton boy's disappearance, and that you haven't wasted our money on new furniture for your little 'Empty Mug'."
Kalvin didn't flinch. He took the offered chair and placed the blue glass shard on the desk; the strange material caught the low light like a frozen tear.
"I have something far more valuable than furniture, Mr. Smith," Kalvin countered, his voice steady. "I have the motive. The question isn't where Alistair Hamilton went, but who he was trying to become. And I believe the answer is a lot older, and more dangerous, than a simple kidnapping."
He leaned forward, dropping his voice. "Tell me everything you know about the followers of the 'True Creator'."
Smith leaned back in his chair. Smith extended a finger and slightly pushed the glass shard. "Alistair Hamilton's desperation has led you to something that should have been dusted millennia ago, Detective. A god that came into existence from human belief. How funny, isn't it? But it's true, it's a legend. However, during the First Epoch, a cult emerged from among some members who believed in a god that had no existence. They started adding more and more people to their ranks who believed in that fictional god like them. When they were able to gather a good number of people, their belief started to bring that fictional god into existence. "The True Creator" that they believed in began to exist. He is known to everyone as "The Evil God." This is because this god initiated "The War Between Gods." Besides, the worshippers of this god committed various evil deeds. They would sacrifice common people in the pursuit of power.
Smith remained silent for a while and suddenly stood up, slamming his hand forcefully on the table. If it is true that Alistair sought power from the Evil God, then his end will be very dreadful.
Kalvin did not react to the noise. His gaze was fixed on Smith's face, his expression calm and unwavering, like a cold, still pond. The story of a god brought into existence by human belief, a legend, resonated with the deep, spiritual truths of this world he was still learning to navigate. It was both darkly ironic and utterly terrifying.
"And what is his end now, Mr. Smith?" Kalvin asked, his voice cold but sharp. "What is the consequence of trying to be a worshipper of a legendary, fictional god? Is a glass shard and 'the light dazzling his eyes'—is that all that remains of him?"
Smith leaned over the desk, a complex mixture in his eyes—anger, caution, and a certain suppressed fear. He lowered his voice, as if the walls had ears.
"Detective, if your hypothesis is correct," Smith said, each word sharp and cold as tempered steel, "then Hamilton didn't just disappear. He was 'assimilated.' Trying to gain the power of the 'True Creator' is not like choosing a Sequence pathway. It is a dedication, the merging of one's consciousness into a greater, twisted entity. This cult, who called themselves 'Twilight's Pilgrims,' believed that self-sacrifice was the ultimate form of worship to satisfy their god. 'The light dazzling his eyes'—this likely means he saw the 'light' or 'aura' of that distorted god.
It is a sign that either drives a person mad or turns them into a ghoul-like existence, where their former humanity no longer remains."
Smith settled back into his chair, his eyes narrowing. "All we know now is this: there are generally two outcomes for those who follow this path. Either he has been completely devoured and no longer exists in this world—the ultimate end of a Nexus Incident. Or, more horribly, he has lost his own self and become a new loyal follower, a distorted 'Emissary' of the 'True Creator.' Your job is to find the meaning of this blue glass shard, as it is his last memento. Through it, we can learn which path he was walking, and what he saw in his final moments."
Smith took a breath. "Kalvin, this path is very dangerous. I'm giving you a final warning. This 'True Creator' is a 'being' whose existence is a permanent threat to the balance of this world. Following his worshippers means attracting that ancient, mad gaze upon yourself. However, after the war of the gods, direct interference by this evil god and other gods in this world has not been observed. If the members of this cult succeed in bringing this evil god back into the real world, the entire world will be destroyed."
A faint smile appeared on Kalvin's lips. He picked up the blue glass shard, which radiated a cold power in his hand.
"Mr. Smith," Kalvin said calmly. "I am not afraid of danger. Because my goal is to gain the power before which even this kind of ancient madness will be forced to bow. If this is an attempt to awaken a world-destroying god, then this shard will lead me to its doorstep. And, in a big game like this, the stakes have to be high."
He stood up from the chair. "Now, tell me, does the Nexus have any recent information on the symbols or activities of the 'Twilight's Pilgrims'?"