I walked out of Chief Roman's sprawling office and stepped back into the wide, high-ceilinged corridors of the Capital Knights Bureau Association headquarters. Since the grand administrative hallway was located deep within the interior of the obsidian fortress…a perfectly shaded, indoor area illuminated only by stable magical lanterns… I kept my deep canvas hood lowered for a brief moment. My brown hair with its striking silver tips was visible, though my face remained entirely cloaked by the shifting, light-swallowing shadows of the Leech's Hollow Mask.
Balancing the heavy wooden alchemical crate filled with my titration gear, glass flasks, and raw chemical components in my right arm, I scanned the bustling logistical hub. It didn't take long to spot Evelyn.
Despite having spent six long years trapped in the pitch-black abyss of a damp ravine, my little sister had an almost supernatural ability to command a room. Combined with her striking looks and her remarkably developed F-cup bust size, she had essentially become an absolute living magnet inside this military bureau. She was completely surrounded by a small crowd of starstruck low-ranking squires, eager couriers, and off-duty knights who were practically tripping over themselves to offer her directions or assist her with administrative paperwork.
The moment her twin jade-green eyes caught my tall, imposing crimson silhouette walking toward her, she instantly excused herself from her circle of admirers and jogged over to me, her posture relaxing.
"Big sister, you're here!"
Evelyn said softly, her youthful voice carrying that eerie, hyper-articulate fluency she had stolen from the minds of her victims. She looked up, her gaze scanning the immaculate, fire-resistant fabric of Olive's trench coat before lingering on the predatory contours of my new visor.
"Wow, nice coat you got here, and the mask looks incredible. Oh, by the way... I met our big brother Elias earlier."
Beneath the absolute psychic barrier of my mask, I offered her a soft, hidden smile. I knew all about her little run-in with Elias, having bypassed their tense conversation out on the porcelain promenade just minutes prior.
Without making a sound, I shifted the heavy alchemical crate forward and gently passed the load over to Evelyn. Her small hands caught the wooden handles, and her knees buckled slightly under the sudden, dense weight of the specialized titration equipment and raw chemical bottles.
She let out a sharp, strained grunt, her eyebrows furrowing as she adjusted her grip.
"Ugh, it's heavy... Big sister, what in the world do you even need all these medical supplies and chemical fluids for?"
Evelyn was an organic super-computer when it came to tactical combat memory and military protocols, but she had absolutely no conceptual understanding of modern Earth-style chemistry or the recipe for synthesizing weaponized tear gas canisters. I didn't bother trying to explain the science to her out in the open. Instead, I whipped out my notepad, rapidly scribbled a single, direct word in Alatist, and held it up to her face:
Cathedral.
Evelyn blinked, reading the messy charcoal text, and her expression instantly shifted into a compliant, eager nod.
"Oh, the 8th District Cathedral? Sure, big sister! I'll lead the way."
She spun on her heel, confidently carrying the heavy crate despite its weight. Even though it had only been a week since Evelyn had transitioned from the deep mines to the surface world, her super-intelligent brain had processed the geographical live data of Caria City flawlessly. She had already perfectly mapped the entire 15-square-kilometer radius of the massive 8th District inside her head, navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the Bureau with total precision.
I reached forward and relieved her of the burden, taking the heavy medical supplies back into my own right hand so she wouldn't have to carry it all the way. As I followed closely behind her guiding path, we approached the towering exit doors of the association building.
The moment the massive obsidian doors groaned open, revealing the blinding, harsh daylight of the outdoor plaza, a sudden wave of biological dread washed over me. Due to my sixth evolution as a high-tier blood-sucking demon, my mutated skin was dangerously allergic to natural sunlight; even a few seconds of direct exposure to the afternoon rays would cause my flesh to blister and burn violently.
Moving with frantic, practiced urgency, I reached up with my free hand, grabbed the edges of my heavy canvas hood, and pulled it completely forward over my head. I adjusted the fabric carefully, sealing myself in total shadow and ensuring not a single sliver of the afternoon sun could pierce my defenses as we stepped out onto the cobblestones, heading straight toward the towering cathedral next door.
The heavy canvas of my hood rippled in the sharp wind of the 8th District plaza, casting a protective cowl of shadow that shielded my light-sensitive, mutated flesh from the biting brilliance of the midday sun. Walking beside Evelyn, the click of my heavy boots rhythmically countered the softer cadence of her steps. The massive wooden crate in my right arm felt deceptively light despite the dangerous cocktail of chemical precursors sloshing within its glass flasks… materials that would soon be refined into tactical tear gas to choke out the underground networks of the Katt siblings.
Evelyn adjusted her stance, a soft, mocking chime of laughter vibrating in her throat as she looked back up at the light-swallowing void of my Leech's Hollow Mask.
"You know, big sister, when I first ran into our big brother Elias back there by the fountain, the look on his face was absolutely priceless. Because of our family resemblance, he immediately mistook me for some distant relative from the outer countryside estates. So, naturally, I decided to play along and bantered with him. I told him straight to his face that I was his long-lost sister."
She shook her head, the brown locks of her hair shifting over her shoulders, causing the faint, bioluminescent green tips to shimmer weakly against the harsh daylight.
"But you know how our dark and edgy big brother is, he completely scoffs at the idea of having another sibling. Seeing how much his brooding, stoic attitude annoyed me, he eventually rationalized everything and fully accepted that I must be his cousin. He has absolutely no idea that I am actually his true little sister, born from the very same womb he was. But the funniest part? He looked at my hair for two seconds and immediately called me 'Slime Girl.' He said the glowing tips reminded him of some rare, toxic bioluminescent slimes he spent weeks exterminating down in the lower caverns years ago."
A silent, bittersweet realization settled deep within my chest beneath the compressed panels of my crimson trench coat. A phantom ache throbbed behind my visored gaze, echoing the deep, historical ironies of our shattered family line.
Elias hadn't changed at all. The high-ranking, immaculate knight commander of the Bureau was still the exact same mischievous, incredibly annoying name-giver he had been during our miserable childhood inside the Rynd estate. Long before I had faked my death, long before I had evolved into a winged, blood-sucking demon of the night, Elias had weaponized his petty nicknames against everyone around him.
Back when we were children, he used to follow me through the manor libraries, pointing his wooden training sword at my face and calling me "Weird Eyes." It was his favorite taunt, mocking the striking, unnatural heterochromia I had been born with… one eye a deep, blood-red crimson, and the other a sharp, vibrant jade-green. The memory brought a grim, physical reminder of the violence this world had inflicted upon me; since my right crimson eye had been brutally gouged out during my subsequent awakenings, only my left green eye remained behind the shadow of my mask to look upon the world.
He hadn't spared our other older sister, Elicia, either. Despite her youth, grace, and remarkable talent, Elicia had been born with striking, pristine silver hair… a genetic trait that Elias relentlessly exploited. He used to publicly call her "Grandma" or mock her as some sort of ancient, wrinkled hag simply because her brilliant tresses reminded him of an elderly matriarch.
And now, history was repeating itself in the grand plazas of the military district. Evelyn, a girl who had literally survived the pitch-black abyss of a gold mine by becoming an organic super-computer, a creature whose very hair bore the bioluminescent glow of the subterranean depths, had just been branded with the title of "Slime Girl" by a brother who was completely blind to his own bloodline.
"He really hasn't changed, has he? Still deflecting reality with stupid labels because he can't handle what's right in front of him." Evelyn murmured, noticing the subtle, rigid shift in my posture. She offered a knowing, sharp smirk, her tactical brain easily deducing the memories I was cycling through.
I didn't write a response. I merely adjusted my grip on the heavy alchemical supplies, keeping my canvas hood pulled low as we bypassed the secondary checkpoints of the plaza. Ahead of us, towering over the white porcelain walkways and casting a massive, cool shadow across the cobblestones, the grand architectural spires of the 8th District Cathedral began to come into view. It was time to leave the ghosts of the Rynd family behind and step into the next holy sanctuary of our crusade.
The imposing marble facade of the 8th District Cathedral loomed over us, its massive gothic arches casting a long, cool sanctuary of shadow across the porcelain tiles. The sheer scale of the building was breath-taking, with intricate relief carvings of the Goddess Elpis stretching up toward heaven, entirely dominating the landscape right next door to the Knights Bureau.
We stopped just before the monumental bronze entrance doors. Standing within the safe embrace of the structure's shadow, I carefully adjusted the massive wooden alchemical crate. Because my left arm had been brutally mutilated and lost during my agonizing journey through the lower sectors, leaving me with only my single right hand to bear the physical weight of my crusade, balancing the titration flasks and chemical fluids took a deliberate, tense effort.
I looked down at Evelyn through the light-swallowing void of my Leech's Hollow Mask. I gave her a sharp, grateful nod of my shadowed head… my silent way of thanking my little sister for flawlessly navigating the 15-square-kilometer military grid.
Evelyn caught the gesture, her twin jade-green eyes narrowing into a sharp, knowing smirk. "Be careful inside, big sister, don't let the holy water singe your wings."
With a fluid, practiced grace, she turned on her heel and vanished back into the bustling plaza, her brown hair with its glowing bioluminescent tips blending into the crowd.
Now, I was entirely alone. Just me, the devastating three-gun arsenal hidden like coat hangers against my folded demon wings beneath Olive's crimson trench coat, and the heavy crate of tear gas components cradled in my right arm.
I leaned my frame forward, using my shoulder to push open the heavy bronze door, and stepped across the threshold.
The moment the door clicked shut behind me, isolating me from the harsh daylight, the frantic energy of the military district vanished. The interior of the cathedral was breathtakingly vast, illuminated by towering stained-glass windows that filtered the afternoon light into a kaleidoscope of deep blues and vibrant purples. But what caught me completely off guard was the aroma. Unlike Father Columbia's forgotten sacristy in the 7th District, which smelled heavily of aged cedar and thick frankincense, this grand cathedral smelled intensely of fresh, blooming lilacs. The sweet, floral fragrance hung thick in the cool air, masking the underlying scent of ozone and ancient stone.
My heavy leather boots clicked softly against the polished marble floor as I walked down the grand central aisle. Standing near the base of the grand golden altar, a figure was waiting.
He wore the most luxurious, pristine white and gold ecclesiastical robes I had ever seen, stitched with immaculate golden thread that caught the ambient light. He was an elderly man, but he carried himself with an immense, absolute spiritual authority that demanded reverence. As his eyes locked onto my tall, imposing crimson silhouette and the mysterious, swirling darkness of my visor, he didn't flinch. Instead, his weathered face softened into a serene, calculated smile.
"Greetings, follower, my name is Pope Corneas. You must be sent by the Goddess."