The dense shadows of East Borough clung to the crumbling walls and narrow alleys, wrapping the district in an air of quiet menace. Kevin Adams stood motionless at the corner of a dimly lit street, his presence veiled by Static Veil, blending seamlessly with the dark. The flickering gas lamps did little to dispel the eerie gloom, and the only sounds were the distant clatter of hooves and the occasional murmur of hushed conversations.
His vision, however, told a different story. Threads of fate, invisible to most, danced through the air like strands of silk, guiding his gaze towards an inconspicuous building. Inside the decrepit structure, multiple figures conversed in hushed tones. Their threads intertwined briefly before separating again—clear signs of negotiation.
Kevin narrowed his eyes. He had come here following the faint traces left behind by the missing individual, but this was something else entirely. The mere fact that these men's threads shimmered more vibrantly than those of ordinary people suggested they were no strangers to the supernatural. He adjusted his grip on the Reaper's Dagger, feeling its subtle pulse even through the layers of his coat.
Carefully, he crept closer, keeping to the deeper shadows as he maneuvered around the building. The wooden structure groaned slightly under the weight of time, its cracks allowing Kevin a glimpse inside. Two men stood by a makeshift table, a dim lantern casting flickering light upon their faces. One was lean and sharp-featured, his eyes darting around with the cautious paranoia of someone who dealt in dangerous trades. The other was bulkier, his thick beard unable to hide the glint of greed in his eyes.
"I told you," the lean man hissed. "This is a genuine Sequence Five formula—from the Hunter Pathway. The price is fair, and you won't find another seller as reliable as me."
The bearded man scoffed. "Six thousand pounds is fair? The market price fluctuates between six and seven, sure, but given the risks involved, I'd say it's worth no more than five." He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "You want this deal, you lower the price."
The seller's fingers twitched. Kevin could see the strands of fate tighten slightly, indicating rising tension as their fates intertwined more with each passing second. The lean man sighed, rubbing his temples before responding. "I don't deal with amateurs. I know what this formula is worth."
A moment of silence stretched between them. Then, in a bid to assert control, the lean man reached into a small, intricate case beside him, pulling out a small circular object. From the strings of fate Kevin could see around it, he knew at first glance it was a sealed artifact.
A faint, pulsating glow seeped through the sigils etched onto its surface. The air shifted subtly, charged with an unseen force. Kevin instinctively adjusted his breathing, suppressing his own presence even further. Whatever the artifact was, it might not be dangerous, but at the same time, it was unknown—and in this world, anything unknown brought with it a sense of danger.
"This," the seller said, his voice laced with something between pride and fear, "should be proof enough that I'm not peddling fakes." He placed it onto the table with a careful motion, as though expecting it to react.
The bearded man studied it, his eyes flickering with recognition before his expression turned cautious. "And what does it do?"
The seller smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "See for yourself."
Kevin remained perfectly still, his mind racing. If this was indeed a genuine Sequence Five formula, it would be worth a fortune—not just in money, but in power.
Yet, more pressing than the value of the transaction was the artifact itself. Even from his concealed position, he could feel the subtle distortion in the flow of fate around it. From this, he could surmise that this sealed artifact held some godhood, or perhaps it simply influenced the world in ways beyond ordinary comprehension. Either way, Kevin knew one thing for certain—this was no ordinary deal.
The moment the buyer touched the artifact, the shadows around the room seemed to shudder. A faint whisper, just at the edge of hearing, slithered through the stale air.
Kevin's grip on his dagger tightened.
Tonight, he had stumbled upon something far greater than a missing person's case. And if he wasn't careful, he might just become part of the next disappearance.
Kevin watched as the shadows slowly vanished and the two men were now shaking hands, one giving a large sum of cash to the other.
The men continued their conversation in hushed tones, the tension from a few moments ago now seeming like an illusion. With their voices low, they spoke of potential future deals and new opportunities. The topics shifted, flowing like a river in constant motion, until one of them, a tall man with a thoughtful look, dropped a bombshell.
"I think the recent killings might be connected to the Mutant Pathway," he said, his eyes narrowing. "The Sequence 7 transformation—werewolves, you know? The timing, the moon phase, it all fits. Full moon, primal instincts. The victims' condition... it's as if something just tore through them."
A ripple of silence passed through the group as the others processed the words. Sequence 7 of the Mutant Pathway. Werewolves were known for their terrifying strength and agility, a result of their transformation. Their claws and teeth were on par with Beyonder weapons, and they were capable of spreading their infection, turning others into mindless creatures under their control. During the full moon, their bloodlust reached a terrifying height, and their regenerative powers were unlike anything most had ever seen.
"But it could also be Sequence 6," another man interjected, his voice skeptical but equally grim. "Zombies. The evidence—especially the brutal, unrelenting attacks—suggests something more methodical, more decayed. Zombies are tough, almost impervious to bullets. And their aura of decay… if someone was infected, it could easily lead to the same chaotic scenes."
The second man's words were laced with knowledge of the Zombie's powerful defenses. They could heal rapidly, their bodies like steel, making it incredibly difficult to incapacitate them with anything less than a headshot. And yet, as with the Werewolves, they were also cursed, their thirst for blood and human flesh overwhelming their reason, especially during the crimson moon.
"The real question," the first man murmured, his gaze sharpening, "is which one is it? The way the bodies were torn apart... it feels like a werewolf's work. But the brutality, the methodical nature—it's a hallmark of zombies too."
The conversation grew heavy, a new tension settling over them. Each man felt the growing sense of dread that came with being so close to whatever force lurked behind these killings. Their world was one where humanity and monstrous instincts constantly collided. But knowing which beast it was… that could make all the difference.
They continued their discourse, bouncing ideas back and forth, but one truth remained: whoever—or whatever—was behind the killings, it wasn't finished yet. And from the brutality of the deaths and the fact that none of the churches had caught the perpetrator, it meant they were strong.
Kevin, who now had a better understanding of the case, carefully analyzed the information. With his knowledge of the pathways, he concluded that the killer belonged to either the Mutant, Abyss, or Hangman Pathways, with their Sequence likely being seven or six—maybe even five. Cautiously and silently, Kevin returned to his house, leaving no traces behind as he left.
[End of Chapter]