Caelen sat cross-legged on the bed, a matte-black tablet resting in his hands. On the screen was a profile that had taken Evelyn less than a minute to pull up. She'd tapped through security layers like she was sorting through music playlists—now, the display glowed quietly between them.
A picture of Lucy stared back at him, with the with the same emotionless gaze, pale skin touched with a healthy brown undertone, soft features, and dark hair tied back. Even in the image, her composure was distant. Cold.
Name: Lucille Desmire
Age: 20
Affiliation: Desmire Noble Lineage - Demon Hunter Division
Class: Warrior / Mage Hybrid
Combat Rank: A-tier
Preferred Weapon: Gauntlets and Daggers
Magical Affinity: Ice
Status: Active Operative
Caelen raised an eyebrow at the age. "Twenty? Huh, we're not far off."
Evelyn, perched casually on a curved chair beside the window, rolled her eyes. "She's still out of your league."
Caelen gave her a look. "Right. Says the lady watching me from system glasses like she's the queen of surveillance."
She smirked but didn't argue. Her fingers toyed lazily with the glowing seed in her hand—the same one from his mission reward. Small, amber-colored, pulsing with an inner red glow, like a heart trying to wake up.
Caelen turned back to the screen. "This is an enemy now, huh…" he whispered. Then he sighed, "Sorry, Lucy."
"Are you really sure this plan's gonna work?" Evelyn asked, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "How can you even be sure they'll pick her? They have a whole division."
"I just know," Caelen replied simply. "You revealed her family and all this with your information ability… it gave me everything I needed. The rest is patience. And timing."
Evelyn shifted in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. "If you're wrong, you know what happens."
He met her gaze. "Yeah, yeah. I lose, I follow you. No chains though."
A smile tugged at the edge of her lips. "Deal."
"Good," he said. "Now, follow the steps like I told you. Make sure the seed's impression is subtle but distinct. And bring me a busted old book—something that won't look out of place."
She reached down beside the chair and pulled out a worn brown satchel, rifling through it with surprising gentleness. "You know you were only released twenty minutes ago, right? And you're already trying to bait I have been in contact with for years."
Caelen didn't respond. He was staring hard at the tablet, memorizing the information like it might evaporate any second.
Moments later, the door creaked open, and the same woman who had helped at the dungeon front desk stepped in, holding a book. She said nothing, placed it gently on the edge of the nearby table, and left.
Evelyn got up with a grunt and walked the few steps to retrieve it. "Here. This should work."
Caelen took it from her, running his fingers along the spine and the jagged pages. The cover was chipped, stained in parts, with half of the gold lettering rubbed off. "Perfect."
He opened it, flipped several pages, and began writing.
Ten minutes passed in silence, save for the occasional brush of the pen against the paper. Finally, Caelen closed it with a slow, measured exhale and handed it to Evelyn.
"Be smart about this," he said. "Once this is out there, I won't have control. The system can't seem to read stuff I don't own, I guess it's lust-based too."
Evelyn nodded, her fingers gripping the book with care now. She could see how serious this was.
Caelen stood and walked toward the door.
"Be careful," he added without turning. "And don't get too greedy with something like that. You're not the only one watching."
He didn't wait for her reply.
—
The streets outside were just as he'd left them. Caelen walked along the sidewalk with calm strides, his eyes scanning the passing cars and laughing civilians. The sunlight warmed his skin, but his thoughts were distant.
This plan... It's going to make me a target. No more hiding. No more shadows.
The Desmire family, Lucy's family, has to be very sharp, connected, and always watching stuff. Once this trap was triggered, there'd be no room to slip back into the crowd. Still, he had to move forward. Playing this game meant drawing blood first since this is how he has to gain from this, even if it meant spilling some of his own.
He reached the house not long after, and before he could even knock, the door flung open.
Emma.
Her expression was stormy, her voice even more so. "Where have you been?!"
Caelen blinked. "Whoa, I—"
"You didn't call," she said, arms folded. "I thought you were captured or something worse. You do not need that much training in a single day—unless…" She paused, narrowing her eyes. "...unless you didn't know?"
Caelen laughed softly, stepping past her into the house. "No, no… I knew. I just got caught up in something. My bad."
He reached out, tugging her gently toward him. Her irritation was still fresh, but her body didn't resist. She met his gaze, searching for something—truth, reassurance, something more.
"I'm serious," she whispered. "You scared me."
"I know," he said softly, guiding her back toward his room. "But I'm here now. And I missed you."
She rolled her eyes. "Smooth."
He nudged her toward the bed and gently pushed her onto it. She didn't resist.
"You're lucky everyone already ate," she said, voice softening, "because you would've had to deal with Rebecca's scolding on top of mine."
Caelen grinned. "Then I really dodged a bullet."
Emma smiled, but her arms wrapped around him quickly after, like she was afraid he'd vanish again.
For a few quiet minutes, they stayed like that, the morning slowly fading as their bodies found warmth in each other's presence.
Caelen knew what was coming. The plan was in motion, and the enemies will soon show themselves and find him.
But for now, he had this.
And he wasn't letting go.
—
The grand doors of the cathedral creaked open, letting a shaft of muted golden light spill into the cool sanctity of the church. Priest Luziel stepped forward, his white and gold robes catching the flicker of countless candles that adorned the sanctuary.
The moment his foot met the marble floor, a quiet reverence fell across the congregants. Devotees bowed their heads or placed closed fists over their hearts, whispering prayers of respect as he passed. Even the low chants of the choir paused momentarily as the priest made his way through the nave, walking past the towering statues of holy figures and murals depicting divine triumphs.
But Luziel paid none of it any mind.
His steps were steady, yet there was a weight in his movement—a purpose that pushed him faster with each passing moment. He descended into the lower halls of the cathedral, the torches mounted along the stone walls casting shifting shadows on his stern face. Down past the rows of prayer rooms, storage chambers, and locked archives.
He stopped at a door made of darkened ironwood, old yet imposing. Knocking twice, he waited.
A woman's voice rang from the other side, calm yet laced with authority."Enter."
Luziel opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was lit by only a few amber lamps. On the far side, lying languidly on a worn velvet sofa, was a woman in a fitted black tunic, her long dark hair tied into a lazy braid. Her legs were draped over the armrest, one hand holding an open book whose gold-trimmed pages glinted with scripture. She didn't look up as he entered.
"What is it now?" she asked casually, flipping a page. "Another noble trying to buy their way into sainthood?"
Luziel stepped forward, closing the door behind him. "No… It's more serious than that. Everything went according to plan… at first."
The woman's eyes finally lifted toward him, a single brow raised. "At first?"
He nodded, fidgeting slightly. "The boy. The one we used for the magic circle. Everything in his background came up clean—no noble bloodlines, no hidden contracts, not even an unusual education. A perfect candidate. Low profile. Smart. Modest. We even had eyes in the church tracking his movements for years. Nothing suspicious."
She blinked. "So what changed?"
Luziel shifted his weight and continued, voice low but defensive. "When we began the circle… it was stable. But then his blood touched it. And the circle changed."
"Changed how?" Her tone was flat now, like steel wrapped in velvet.
He swallowed, voice slowing as he recalled the memory. "The markings ignited—like they were reacting to something from him, maybe. And the red lines—deeper, darker than I've ever seen—started spiraling out from the center of the circle. It wasn't just blood activation… it was corruption. Like the magic was answering to something I don't understand."
The woman sat up, closing the book with a muted thud. "Did you check if he was under any external influence? A curse, a pact?"
"Yes," Luziel nodded quickly. "We ran all the checks. Physically, he's clean. Spiritually too. Up until that moment… he was just human."
She stared at him for a moment longer, unmoving. "What moment?"
The room went dead silent.
Then—flick!
In a blur, something silver and sharp shot past Luziel's face, grazing his skin. A stinging heat followed as a paper-thin blade carved into his cheek. Blood welled up, and Luziel's breath caught in his throat.
Luziel paused. His hand slowly rose to his cheek, brushing over the thin line there—a small, fresh wound.
The woman was standing now, her fingers still glowing faintly from the thrown needle.
"I hate stalling, Luziel," she said, her voice edged and sharp. "Next time, just say what you mean."
He bowed slightly, eyes down. "My apologies."
"I… I think I saw something," he said at last, the words trembling ever so slightly. "When the circle ruptured, just before I blacked out… I saw something rise from it. A silhouette. Horns. Eyes like coals. I can't say for certain, I wasn't fully conscious. But… I think a demon emerged from that circle."
She stepped past him toward a locked drawer, pulled it open, and retrieved a small obsidian disk. She turned it in her hand before closing her palm around it.
"If what you're saying is true…" she began, eyes narrowing, "then this is bigger than a simple test subject being used to help our goddess. A demon has spawned, hidden beneath our very church?"
Luziel nodded gravely.
Her voice dropped, low and decisive. "Then we eliminate the problem. I want you to contact the Desmire family. Tell them they're being activated. Their bloodline owes us this."
His heart skipped. "Yes, ma'am. Right away."
He turned quickly and left the chamber, the tension in the room chasing after him even as the door clicked shut behind him.
Alone now, the woman slowly returned to her seat. She reached toward her face and gently touched a long, faded scar running across the side of her lips. A scar twisted not just by injury, but by magic. It had long since healed, but it still itched when something interesting was about to happen.
She leaned back, her grin curling wider than it should have.
"Let's see if this one's worth the blood," she whispered.
Then she laughed softly.
For the first time in years, she felt the thrill of the hunt.
Like where this is going? A Power Stone keeps it alive and kicking.
One click = one push forward. Let's get this noticed.