Valenreach never slept.
It only paused.
Between the echoes of footsteps and the aftertaste of conversations, the city lingered in a constant half-breath as if waiting for something it had long forgotten how to name. Streets layered over older streets. Buildings grew atop foundations no one remembered laying. Neon never dominated the skyline, nor did candlelight ever fully vanish. Valenreach existed somewhere between eras, neither ancient nor modern, wearing both like mismatched skin.
Crime didn't rule here.
It flowed.
Law followed it sluggishly, always one step behind. Normal police handled what they could — theft, disputes, desperation turned petty. But there were crimes that left no fingerprints. No witnesses. No logic.
Crimes that bent reality slightly out of shape.
Those were not handled by men with guns.
They were handled by Magia.
In this world, Magia was not a tool.
It was intent given weight.
Every human was born with a Soul Vein a dormant channel woven into the soul itself. Most lived their entire lives without ever feeling it stir. But for a select few, something awakened. A pressure behind the chest. A hum behind the thoughts.
A Magia Core.
The spiritual nucleus that allowed intent to become force.
Those who awakened were feared, revered, exploited, or erased. Some chose to protect the city. Others ruled it from shadows. Many vanished before they chose anything at all.
To the public, Magia was regulated.
To the city, it was inevitable.
And standing between inevitability and chaos was an organization most people pretended didn't exist.
VEIL.
The Vigilant Enforcement of Inhuman Laws.
Its headquarters rose from Sector Three like a quiet accusation stone and reinforced glass without insignia, without pride. You didn't come here to be inspired.
You came here to be contained.
Erdin Vale stood in silence as a voice shattered the room.
"Do you have any idea how bad this looks?!"
Commander Harth's shout reverberated off reinforced walls, rattling the data slate on his desk. Erdin didn't flinch. He rarely did.
He was twenty years old.
Slightly above average height. Lean, almost fragile in build. Pale skin that hadn't seen much sun, but not enough to be unhealthy. His dark hair looked like it had once been styled carefully and then abandoned halfway through.
His eyes were a muted gray.
They didn't glow, they didn't intimidate, they observed.
"Twelve bodies," Harth continued, pacing now. "Three weeks. Four sectors. No patterns. No witnesses. And you.."
He stopped in front of Erdin.
"I gave you this case personally."
Erdin folded his hands loosely in front of him.
"I know."
"And?"
"I've been trying," Erdin said calmly. His voice was even, almost dull. "But he doesn't exist in a way that tracking methods can recognize."
Silence followed.
Then laughter sharp and disbelieving.
"Oh, don't start with that," Harth snapped. "This isn't philosophy hour. This is a city on the brink of panic."
He flicked the slate forward.
Images bloomed across the surface.
Bodies, not mutilated, but separated.
Limbs removed with impossible precision. Cuts too clean to be blades. Too intentional to be accidents.
Erdin studied them without reaction.
"Forma," he said quietly.
Harth stopped pacing.
"…What?"
"Forma type magia," Erdin repeated.
"Weaponized manifestation. He's not casting spells. He's pouring Magia directly into form. Possibly even into concepts."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Forma users were rare.
And when they weren't contained early, they didn't stay human for long.
"Then why can't VEIL track him?" Harth demanded.
Erdin raised his gaze.
"Because he's concealing his existence," he said. "Not hiding. Removing. He's pouring Magia into his presence itself."
The door slid open.
"You're not wrong," a voice said lightly. "Just incomplete."
Ella stepped inside.
White hair fell down her back in a loose tie, catching the overhead light. Her blue eyes were sharp not cold, not cruel just aware. She carried herself like someone who'd learned the weight of violence early and decided not to waste movement.
A katana rested at her side.
Always.
"There are four ways Magia manifests," she said, glancing at Harth. "Forma is only one."
She turned to Erdin, smiling faintly.
"Want me to explain again, or are you pretending so I'll talk?"
"…Please," Erdin said.
Ella faced the commander.
"Arkana, incantations.. runes.. rituals." She nodded toward Erdin.
"Anima, reinforcing the body itself."
"Divina, divine or forbidden Magia. Rare. Dangerous."
"And Constructum, shaping Magia into objects or entities."
Her hand brushed the hilt of her katana.
"I'm Forma. So is our killer."
Harth exhaled slowly.
"And Vale?"
"Arkana," Ella replied. "Which makes this a bad matchup."
Erdin lowered his eyes.
"But," she added, "that's why he has me."
Outside, Valenreach kept breathing.
And somewhere within it, something that should not exist was already moving.