The fog of Backlund pressed against the windowpanes of Vessal's residence like a living thing, damp and suffocating. Inside, the air was unnaturally still.
Xio Derecha crouched in the center of the master bedroom, her breathing shallow and silent. To anyone else, the room appeared lived-in, but to an Arbiter, the perfection was jarring. Every book on the shelf was aligned to the millimeter; every chair was angled with surgical precision. The scene painted the owner as one of two, either a crazy perfectionist, or a calculative mind that had turned the entire house furniture into a security system.
Xio's eyes scanned the heavy wooden desk. She didn't move toward the obvious stacks of ledgers. Instead, her intuition pulled her toward a mundane-looking dresser. She ran her calloused fingers along the underside of the bottom drawer, feeling for the slight catch of a false seam. With a faint click, a hidden compartment slid forward.
Inside were dozens of identification papers, birth certificates, and travel permits. Each bore a different name—Gehrman, Arthur, Lawrence—and claimed origins from across the Northern Continent. Beneath the stack of identities lay a series of hand-drawn sketches. They were rough, charcoal-heavy portraits, but they captured the essence of their subjects with chilling accuracy. Xio flipped through them: a merchant from the docks, a widow from the Hill District, and then, a face she recognized.
It was a man in his forties with black hair and a receding hairline. His face was thin and long, his brown eyes captured in a state of oblivious trust. Below the sketch, in sharp, elegant script, was the name: Maury Macht.
The level of focus in the sketch was predatory; it was a study of victims.
Before Xio could delve into the correspondence hidden beneath the sketches, a heavy thud echoed from the floor below. The front door.
Xio didn't panic. Her heart rate remained steady as she blurred into motion. With the practiced efficiency of a shadow, she returned the papers to the compartment, reset the catch, and smoothed the rug. She didn't take the door; she slipped through the window and scaled the brickwork with the agility of a cat, pulling herself onto the slanted tiles of the roof just as the bedroom door swung open.
Below, Vessal entered. He was whistling a light, airy tune. There was a smug, victorious curve to his lips. He set a heavy leather valise on the bed and immediately reached into his vest pocket.
He pulled out the silver pocket watch. He held it up to the dim gaslight, watching the way the lens-like glass distorted the room's reflections into strange, swirling patterns. For a long minute, he simply stood there, entranced by the rhythmic pulse of the silver, lost in the "treasure" he believed he had swindled from a naive young noble.
"I was wary of that man at first" Vessal murmed to himsefl in amusment "but to thing he would hand over such spiritualy rich itme as a gift, how naive, I didn't even have to steal it, haha".
Finally, he tucked it away and opened his wardrobe. He began to pack, his movements swift and practiced. He was a man prepared to vanish. But when he reached for the dresser—the one Xio had just searched—he stopped.
He didn't open the drawer. He merely looked at the handle.
When he tried to move it, the click sound he heard completly changed his expression.
The smile on Vessal's face evaporated instantly. His posture shifted from a relaxed predator to a cornered animal. He didn't check the compartment; he didn't need to. His Superior Observation and intuition told him the room had changed. Someone had brook in. Someone had found his secret.
"Damn it," he hissed, his voice no longer smooth but jagged with a strange, frantic energy.
He abandoned the careful packing. He shoved the fake IDs and the sketches into his valise with violent haste, knocking over a chair in his scramble. The facade of the "perfect businessman" was gone, replaced by the frantic desperation of a man who knew time was slipping.
On the roof, Xio herad the commotion, her hand gripping the hilt of her triangular blade. The target was spooked, and he was going to bolt, and if he disappeared into the Backlund fog now, he might never be found. She prepared to drop down and intercept him, but as she raised her head to scout her exit path, she froze.
Across the narrow alley, perched atop the chimney stack of a neighboring townhouse, sat a dark silhouette.
The figure was cloaked in a black overcoat that seemed to drink the surrounding crimson moonlight. The fog curled around him, but never touched him. As the figure turned, the dim light caught the sharp features of a face she knew.
It was Elias.
He wasn't wearing the expression of a worried investor or a concerned friend. He stood there with one hand casually raised to his forehead, shielding his eyes like a sailor scouting distant shores. When he saw Xio, he didn't signal for an attack. Instead, he brought a single, slender finger to his lips.
He was smiling. It was a poetic, ominous expression; the look of a man watching a play reach its inevitable, awaited climax.
Elias gave a small, graceful nod toward the street, signaling Xio to follow the target but to remain in the shadows. He wasn't ready for a full on encounter yet. He wanted to see where the thread led, 'This is still an investment, after all' he thought.
Below, the front door slammed open. Vessal bolted into the fog, clutching his valise to his chest.
Elias stood up on the roof, his coat billowing behind him like dark wings. He didn't jump; he seemed to glide across the rooftops, moving in perfect silence, always staying exactly one thread's length away from the man who thought he was escaping.
'I'm glad I added high agility to the first sequence' he thought to himself while moving across rooftops without a sound 'it's not perfect, but it's much better as a starter pack than I had in other worlds... Or the first time' that last thought brought some slightely unpleasent memories.
Xio took a breath, her skepticism of the 'young former noble' replaced by a cold realization. There was something about this Elias that didn't set right with her. They were dealing with a scammer who dared cross the high circles with Backlund, she was sure he was a beyonder, and most certainly higher than a sequence 9 like herself and Elias, So what made the man so confident in playing the Hunter.
She dropped into a low crouch and began the hunt, following the man in the street and the shadow moving up in the sky.
The chase led them deep into the heart of the East Borough, far from the polished brass and silk of the nobles' social circles. Here, the buildings leaned against one another like drunks, and the stench of the river was a physical weight.
Vessal stopped in front of a dilapidated warehouse near the docks. He looked over his shoulder twice, his eyes darting toward the rooftops, but Elias was a ghost in the smog. Satisfied he wasn't being followed by anything, he took a few seconds to double check his belongings, then pushed open the rusted door.
Inside the warhouse was dark and empty, it ricked of foul stench mixed with cheap alcohol.
Vessal didn't waste time as he knew he had non, he quickly opened the bag and sorted the papers, he searched through the different IDs and kept only the ones he needed, while pushing the others to the side, next he grabbed the papers and sketches and through them next to the discarded ids.
Outside Elias and Xio stepped closer to the door, Xio was about to break in when Elias put a hand on her head and stopped her, she was shocked for a moment, then quickley removed his hand and stared at him for a sceond.
He looked at her and smiled lightely "I'm soory but I'll take it from here"
She didn't like that plan, even if Vessal was caught off guard, he was still most likely a beyonder higher than them, "are you sure,I doubt we both would stand a chance if he turned out to be of high sequence, we can at leats try to to catch him by surprise"
"the higher sequence barely matters in fights between lower sequence beyonders or even the mid level ones, the diciding factors are mostly preparations and information" Elias answered in a low voice "this should be managable, what I need from you now is to go ahead and inform the authorities, tell them it's most likely a sequence 8 Swindler, you can inform them of my persuit"
She hisetated for a second, but ultimately followed the plan, this was a job, and she barely knew the man to be concerened for him.
After she left, Elias moved towards the door and pushed with a heavy sound.
Inside Vessal had just retrived a match box to burn the unwanted evidence, when he heared the door being pushed open, he froze in fear of being exposed.
The air in the warehouse was thick with the scent of damp wood and the acrid tang of the match Vessal held. The flame flickered, casting long, dancing shadows against the crates, making the Swindler's pale face look like a fractured mask.
Elias walked inside like he owned the place, he instantly spotted Vessal and raised his hand in a casual wave "Hi there Vessal, are you that cold in this lovely night, why would come all the way here to burn those paper, they even look important".
Vessal was stunned by the identity of the intruder for a few seconds, but he quickly regained some composer and answered with the same politeness returning the question "Mr Nova, what brings you here?"
"Nothing, I was just passing by when I saw you running around with a big bag, I thught maybe your plans of travel were rushed to today and thought maybe I could tag along to help you; oh I also informed the authorities to catch us in case you needed extra hands"
This threw him off guard and he starts looking around him for a way out, he then turned to Elias to ask, this time his voice colder and a serious face "since when did you know"
Elias just stood there with a smile on his face and his hands behind his back "Oh, come on," he stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping over the blueprints and fake IDs. "It's not like you were subtle about it. All those men in one room, all entranced and nodding... that's too much charm for one person, don't you think?"
"Anyway," Elias continued, his voice smooth and terrifyingly calm in the cavernous space, "Are you sure you want to waste your time on such questions? They're on their way."
Vessal's eyes darted to the heavy doors, then back to Elias. The "polite businessman" persona snapped. In its place was something feral. He realized there was no talking his way out of this—not with a man who looked at him as if he were a specimen under glass.
"You think you've caught me?" Vessal hissed. "You're just a boy who stumbled into a world you don't understand."
Elias just nodded with a smile "Mhm.. sure."
Vessal didn't reach for a gun. Instead, he snapped his fingers.
As a Sequence 8 Swindler, his primary weapon was the lies and illusion. To Elias's eyes, the warehouse suddenly began to tilt. The floor seemed to liquefy, turning into a dark, swirling vortex, while Vessal appeared to multiply, three identical silhouettes darting in different directions. It was Mental Disruption, an attempt to force Elias's brain to believe in a false reality, leaving him vulnerable to a physical strike.
Two figures went for the run while the one in the middle went for the offence.
Elias didn't blink. He activated his Analysis.
The world didn't change, but his perception of it did. He looked for the contradiction. The figure on the left didn't displace the dust on the floorboards; the figure in the middle didn't cast a shadow against the crates. Only the right figure had a "rhythm" that matched the weight of a physical body.
He ignored the one attacking and sprinted to the right one, only for the figure to melt the second he touched it, and another presence to appear right behind him.
He quickly turned around, with a speed that would normaly hurt a normal human, Vessal's real body was right infront of him, a knife in his hand and ready to stab him, but Elias had more expreience.
He drove a knee into Vessal's midsection, doubling the man over, and followed with a kick that pushed away.
Vessal didn't stagger, he landed on his feet, the pain was still visible on his face, but he was smilling, Elias' eyes moved to his hand that now held a gun, his gun.
Elias searched for it but confirmed it was stolen "sorry my friend, but I've wasted enogh time" Vessal said with smile as he raised the gun and aimed it at Elias.
"No need to apologise, well played actually"
Vessal found his calm compuser strange, but he didn't have time to waste on that, so he simply pulled the trigger.
Click..., click
But all that happend was a click sound, Elias just seemed to realize "oh, you didn't take the bullets, I'm sorry I always leave these two separated; for safety reasons" and without warning he sprinted to attack Vessal again.
Vessal followed the same plan of casting illusions of different figures to trick Elias, but this time was different, Elias easily found the real body and attaked him with a kik to his legs throwing him to the ground.
"H...how..." Vessal was puzzled by the outcome, he didn't understand how he saw through the illusion this time when it had worked the first time.
"How? well I'm glad you asked that because I wanted to take this time to explain my powers and abilities..." the dialogue was cut short by kick from Elias connecting stright to Vessal's face, sending rushing into his IDs and papers.
He groaned, he reaching for the silver pocket watch Elias had given him, he had no other way out, the first time he saw it it had a rich layer of spirituality. He didn't have time to test it, but now he was hoping it to have some hidden trait that would get him out of his predicment. But nothing happened.
Elias was already there. He snatched the watch out of Vessal's hand mid-motion and, in the same breath, reached into his own coat to produce the golden pen he had quietly reclaimed.
"I believe this belong to me," Elias remarked, standing over the groveling man.
Outside, the heavy thud of boots of the Backlund police echoed through the warehouse. Elias looked toward the evidence-covered corner. He had what he needed.
As the police burst through the doors, Elias slowly moved a few steps away from Vessaln and just stood there, waiting for questions to be asked.