A gust of wind tickled my skin. The ground below me was lumpy and moist. I opened my eyes and hoisted myself up. Rays of light peeked through the leaf canopy above me. I was sitting in the mud, surrounded by the jungle ... How did I get-

Last night's events came back to me and flooded my thoughts.

Ryoken was gone. There wasn't even a body left to bury. I looked at my hands. The rain had washed them almost clean, but there was still blood on them.

My hands clenched. My body stiffened. I lost everything.

"Damn it all..." I said, my voice hoarse.

What should I do now? Where would I go after this?

Tears threatened to blur my vision, birds chirping nearby. They sang their carefree song, blissfully unaware of what transpired here mere hours ago.

The sun peeked out beyond the horizon. The world kept moving. With or without me.

"Finish the mission."

That was probably what he would say to me in this situation.

I took a deep breath to relax my muscles.

First, I wanted answers. How did they find us in the first place? One of the dead bodies lying around here should have that answer.

I searched them. One by one. They were well equipped. That was certain judging by their gear. A variety of grenades, different caliber weapons, military-grade armor. Perhaps a hitman squad of the Syndicate?

I found a little handheld device on one of them. It had a small monitor pointing somewhere with info on how far away it was. I followed it which led me back to our wrecked car. The mage in the body bag was still there.

But where? Where was the damn tracker?

I opened the bag and checked the corpse. Nothing in his pockets, clutched in his hands, or even tucked somewhere in his clothes. I even pried open his mouth. Nothing.

Unless... It was hidden in plain sight.

I took off the brooch on his suit and held it away from the body. The tracking device pointed in a new direction. Everyone would dismiss something like this as the vanity of a wealthy mage showing off.

I tossed the brooch into the river and loaded the body into one of the armored cars. Then, I made my way to the airport.


"And that concludes this week's weather report," the announcer on the TV said. "And now for-"

I switched the channel. A car chase on a highway popped up. Probably an action movie. The next channel didn't have anything of interest either.

I pressed the off switch and put the remote down. A sigh escaped me as I leaned back into the couch and stared a hole through the ceiling.

How long did I sit there? When was the last time I went outside? I think it was almost a week since I last showered.

I just didn't have the motivation to do anything. What was the point? The house felt empty.

I felt empty.

I looked at the table in front of me. Beneath a mountain of instant food packaging and takeout laid my revolver.

I couldn't get much sleep at all ever since that day. Every time I closed my eyes, the events of that day played on repeat and I woke up in cold sweat. I didn't look into a mirror, but I could feel the bags weighing down my eyes.

I reached for the gun. It was still loaded.

Perhaps it would be easier to just end it all. Make the pain go away. Living on like this was unbearable, so dying couldn't possibly be worse, right?

But what would that have accomplished? Did he die to save me, only for me to finish myself off myself? Perhaps this was my punishment-

The phone rang. Again.

Honestly, could the caller not get the hint? If no one picked up the first dozen times, then what made them think this one was going to work?

It kept making noise like a child wanting attention. I decided to get up and answer it this time. The number was from... the Clock Tower.

"What is it?" I said.

"Finally," a female voice on the other end said. "I have been trying to establish contact for days now. I am calling to inform you that the Head of the Celestial Body Department requests a meeting with you."

"We- I'm not taking any new jobs at the moment," I said. "Good da-"

"It is not about any sort of job," she said. "I was told that it was concerning a few items that belonged to a man named Ryoken Kinami."

It was like an invisible hand gripped my heart after hearing that name again.

"Wha- What do you mean?" I said.

"I am afraid that is all I can say over the phone," she said. "The rest will be explained to you in person."


I stood in front of the door to the office they told me to come to. I felt like shit on the inside, but at least I was in a somewhat presentable state on the outside.

After taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door.

"Come in," a male voice said.

I entered the spacious room. Black curtains covered the windows at the back. The floor was polished to the point I could see my reflection on it. In the middle was a round, elegant, and old-fashioned wooden table. Two couches and three armchairs, all made of white leather, surrounded the table. On the walls to my left and right were shelves with hundreds of books, trinkets, or mystic codes.

But the most interesting feature of the room by far was a telescope on the side. It projected a clear, realistic, and cloudless night sky with all constellations on the ceiling, serving as the room's source of light.

At the other end was the one who called me, sitting at his desk. He wore a white suit and had pale hair plaited to the side.

He looked at me with his dull-golden eyes. "Have a seat. Can I offer you something to drink?"

One of the thirteen Lords of the Clock Tower, Marisbury Animusphere. I never met him in person before, but I heard from Ryoken he did business with him in the past.

"No, thank you," I said. "I'd like to get right to the reason you called me here if you don't mind."

"Straight to the point, hm?" he said. "I see you have taken after him in more ways than one."

He gets up from his desk and walks over to a cabinet on the left.

"It is quite regrettable that Ryoken passed away," he said. "He was a reliable man who got things done."

I kept the details of how Ryoken died to myself. It wasn't like the mages in the Clock Tower cared to begin with, but there was one other problem associated with it.

Whatever I used back there was a form of vampirism that drained the remaining lifespan out of him and, if my theory is correct, used that to heal my wounds and probably added the surplus to my own lifespan.

If anyone were to find out about it, I would have a Sealing Designation for the crest on my back in no time.

"Ah, there it is," Marisbury said.

He pulled out a locked case from his cabinet and put it down on his desk. Next, he opened a drawer and fished out a sealed letter, putting it on top of the case.

"He asked me to give you this in the event of his untimely demise," he said, pushing the box in my direction. "I obliged to his request since I owed him a favor. A favor that is now settled."

The case was visibly armored and probably reinforced with magic as well. It was locked via a four-digit number.

I took the letter, my hand shaking. To think he even planned this far ahead for my sake. It makes the fact I was the cause of his death much worse of a burden to bear.

"Do you know what's in there?" I asked.

"I know that there is nothing dangerous in it," he said. "But other than that, no. Those were the terms of our agreement."

I took the box and the letter. "I see, thank you."

Lord Animusphere sat back down at his desk. I took that as my cue to leave.

"If I may give you one more word of advice," he said. "You should consider a path in magecraft, given your disposition."

"My... disposition?" I said.

He looked up from the papers on his desk, raising an eyebrow. As if it was totally obvious what he was talking about.

"You have a decent number of magic circuits and own a magic crest to my knowledge," he said. "Honestly, how any family of mages would transfer their crest and then abandon their heir is beyond me. It is a good thing that you were found in the end, even if Ryoken was not a proper mage himself."

"What do you mean?" I said.

"That your potential would have been wasted in that rabble of the common folk," he said. "Well, the choice is yours now. However, I imagine that would not have been the case if anyone else had found you back then."

I started to understand what he meant. Mage families always seek to strengthen their bloodline and the crest they passed on.

"From the look on your face, it seems you understand," he said. "Any family of mages would have taken you in and groomed you for the sole purpose of bringing offspring to their daughter and fusing your crest with theirs."

Because crests could normally only be inherited from blood relatives. I couldn't deny any of what Marisbury said. It was most likely what would have happened.

Was that what Ryoken realized when he discovered me? He took me in so that I wouldn't have my freedom to choose taken from me?

The weight I was carrying weighed even heavier now. Knowing he did so much for me... and how I repaid his kindness. I just wanted to lie down and cry.

"I am sure you have a lot to think about now and I have other matters to attend to," Marisbury said. "If you do decide on a path in the world of magecraft, let me know. I won't turn down an apt pupil. Give it some thought."

Trying to recruit me for his benefit after I had just lost everything. A mage through and through.

"Noted," I said. "If you'll excuse me."

I left the Clock Tower and headed back home. Both the case and the letter remained sealed. I didn't deserve whatever was in them.

But Marisbury was right about one thing. I had a decision to make. And I reached a conclusion not long after.

I swore to take down the Syndicate. I was going to make the shadowy boss at the top of that organization pay. I was going to avenge Ryoken. Even if I died trying.


It was late in the evening. I entered the lounge in the Clock Tower where freelancers gathered. Not a lot of people around, but that made it easier to spot the ones I was looking for.

I beelined to a table where three others sat and took a seat myself. "So, how did it go?"

The one in the middle, a woman with brown hair in a leather jacket said, "All according to plan. They acted just as you said."

I was the first one to successfully complete a mission against the Syndicate. It also gave me valuable insight into how they operated.

First, a highly skilled team in taking down mages acquired their target. Then, they placed a tracker and handed them over to a second team responsible for transportation. At the same time, the first team remained in the area of the second team on stand-by to ambush anyone who tried to retake their prize.

"That's great and all, but did you get any information out of it that can lead to the Boss?" I said.

I was determined, but not delusional. At the end of the day, I was just one guy, so I had to enlist others to make a dent in the Syndicate's business.

It was a simple deal really. I gave them the info on how they operated in exchange for any new information they find out that could lead to the elusive Boss of the Syndicate. The only way to bring a swift end was to decapitate the head of the snake.

The guy on the right spoke up, "Well, we left a few alive and asked them nicely, but they didn't have any direct leads. They were supposed to bring their cargo to a harbor in New York, but there was no sign of any middlemen when we scoped out the area."

I sighed. "So, another bust, huh?"

"We disrupted another of their shipments and killed one of their squads," the slim man on the left said. "I'd chalk that up as a win in my book."

"Yeah, whatever," I said, getting up. "Call me if you find something out. Remember that you still owe me for that intel."

"I always keep my word," the woman said.

With that, I left the lounge to go back home. It was months since my meeting with Marisbury. I had mostly done recon or intel gathering missions on my own besides feeding other freelancers info.

Progress was made as far as the Clock Tower was concerned, but stopping the Syndicate's thefts wasn't enough. It was just going to continue back and forth unless a breakthrough happened.

The problem was getting any sort of leads. Valuables like crests and powerful mystic codes got passed on through a long chain of middlemen before they found their way to presumably the Boss in his hideout.

And of course, no one knew who the Boss was or what he even looked like. If there were any who found out about him, they didn't live to tell the tale. The air of mystery surrounding the head of the Syndicate also led to numerous rumors going around, but there wasn't any evidence to back that stuff up.

When I reached the entrance hall...

"Hey there," a male voice called out to me. "I just got here. Can you tell me where to find a freelancer or two? I heard the ones here are after the Syndicate."

I turned to face the source. This guy was slightly taller than me and seemed a little older. He wore a dark green coat with a hood and black jeans to go along with his dark, slicked-back hair and green eyes.

"You're looking at one," I said.

I had never seen him at the Clock Tower before, but I figured he was a visiting mage or something. Otherwise, they wouldn't have let him in here.

He raised an eyebrow and took a long look at me. "Hmm, aren't you just a little young to be a freelancer? Oh well, you do you. Anyway, I'm looking for an extra pair of capable hands to make the Syndicate's life a little more miserable."

"I'm listening," I said.

"As it happens, I know the location of one of their warehouses where a lot of their stolen goods pass through," he said. "I plan on razing it to the ground. Of course, we secure any goods they have in there first. What do you say?"

This guy was a complete unknown. But if what he said was true, it could lead to the Boss. Come to think of it, I didn't even know his name.

"And where did you get that information from?" I said.

"That's a trade secret. Oh, by the way, the name's Vincent Farrel." He smirked, extending his hand. "And you are?"

I hesitated for a moment. He was a stranger. But I had too much to gain from this, so I shook his hand.

"Zayne. Zayne Kinami," I said. "So, where are we going?"


"Singapore!" Vincent said, looking at the bustling city from the rooftop. "I heard the resorts here are the best. Too bad we're not on a leisure trip though. What a shame."

Of course, I looked up his name and history after our first meeting since I doubted he would just lay it all bare. As the saying goes: "Trust is good, control is better."

Vincent Farrel, the sole survivor and heir of an esteemed family of mages killed by the Syndicate years ago. With his family crest and most of their resources wiped out in a single night, he fell into low standing within the mage world but managed to stay afloat thanks to his knowledge in magecraft.

However, there were gaps in his history since his family died. They ranged from a couple of weeks up to a few months at a time over the last years. While I was curious about it, I failed to turn up any solid information to fill in those blanks. It wasn't unheard of that people within the Association or the Church had missing or classified portions of their history, but it still irked me to be in the unknown.

"We have a job to do here," I said. "Focus."

I took out a pair of binoculars and scoped out the warehouse opposite of us. We were near the city's harbor in the industrial district.

"Guards by the gate," I said. "A couple of cameras here and there. Nothing we weren't expecting. Plus, it's nighttime. That should make it easier for us."

"Of course, they can't have too big of a presence here," Vincent said. "Otherwise, someone could find them."

Which made me all the more curious about his source of information. But oh well.

"Well then, let's go ahead with our plan," he said. "Here, you can even hold on to this. See it as a sign of good faith."

He handed me the detonator for the charges in his backpack. I wasn't sure whether it was brave or stupid. It wasn't like I was going to betray him without good reason anyway.

"Alright then, let's get to it," I said.

We sneaked up to the fence and laid low there. Once the two-man patrol passed by, we quickly climbed over. There were a couple of trucks parked in the perimeter. We used them as cover and made our way to the building.

Vincent reached the side entrance and worked on the lock. I kept watching just in case. The guards had just passed and the camera swiveled back to our position.

A few seconds passed and the door opened with a soft click. He hinged it open, and we both slid inside. So far so good.

Only a couple of lights were on, but it was enough. There were a bunch of boxes and crates stacked on numerous shelves. It was like one of those warehouses from a shipping company, except on a smaller scale.

All the way to the right were two smaller trucks, parked in front of garage doors leading outside. Their cargo holds open and empty.

To our left was another door that led to the administrative section and offices of the building. It was where we headed next. Vincent planted the first couple of bombs along the wall on the way.

We arrived in a hallway extending about 30 meters ahead, splitting off the lobby where the front entrance was and a staircase to the second floor. There were multiple doors on each side, probably leading to break rooms or offices.

Vincent was behind me. I raised my left fist, signaling to stop. We crouched down and listened.

"Seems to be clear for now," I whispered.

We continued to sweep the first floor. Most of the rooms weren't even used anymore, so that was where the next batch of explosives went. We split off to get it done faster. I went to the second floor while he went to the third.

I crept along the wall of the dimly-lit hallway and held my ear against the door of the first room. One of these offices had to have a manifest of what they stored. There was no time to search the entire warehouse.

No activity in the room. I grabbed the doorknob and opened it at a snail's pace. Total darkness greeted me, and I closed the door again.

The following room was in use. A faint light peeked out underneath the door. Once again, I opened the door barely enough to see into it.

It wasn't a particularly big room. Two people sat across from each other, working on a separate desk each. They didn't have the door in their field of view, but they would probably notice it opening.

It called for shock and awe. I reached for my silenced pistol and-

Time Alter: Triple Accel!

I opened the door and immediately aimed. The gun hissed and the first guy went limp on his chair. The effect stopped just as I reached the second man and held him at gunpoint.

"Hands in the air, get up from your chair, and on the ground," I said in a voice loud enough for him to hear. "And slowly. If you open your mouth without permission or make any sudden movements, you die."

He seemed frozen for a few more seconds but complied with my orders while glaring daggers at me. Once he was flat on the ground, I closed the door shut, my eyes never leaving him.

"The manifest for the stolen goods you have here," I said. "Where is it?"

"I won't say shit to a kid like you," he said. "Go fuck yourself."

"Trying to be funny, huh?" I said. "I've killed my fair share of Syndicate scum like you. What's one more body to the count?"

"I'm-"

I stomped on his back.

I pressed the gun against the back of his head. "Last chance. Talk."

He took a deep breath. I had a feeling about what he was going to try next.

"Intru-" he said.

Red streaked the floor and the wall. I holstered my gun.

What a waste of time.

I checked the desks, the drawers, the shelves, and... I found it.


Vincent quietly walked in the hallway on the third floor, twirling a throwing knife by the ring. There was no need to be overly cautious. He rounded the corner and-

Found himself face to face with a guard.

The knife in his left hand glowed. He smirked and drew back his right hand. An identical copy projected itself in it.

The guard drew his weapon.

Metal tore through the air and pierced the guard's throat. Two more knives into each eye socket sealed his fate.

A few moments later, those blades dissipated into fine blue particles.

The man fell to the ground as Vincent kept walking. It had been a while since he went out for a stroll, especially with someone else.

He rounded another corner and stood before a door. Without a care in the world, he opened it and entered the small room.

It was dark, but he found another Syndicate lackey sitting in front of a lot of monitors - the only source of light in the room.

"You're back alre-" The man turned in his chair, his eyes widening. "Who the fuck are you?"

But Vincent didn't respond, he kept walking straight toward him.

The man jumped out of his chair, drew his weapon, took aim, and-

*Click*

"A dud?" the man said.

The man tossed his pistol and drew a knife. He charged at Vincent, who didn't even try to dodge.

But the blade never reached him. Instead, the man tripped and fell.

Before he managed to get up again, a throwing knife embedded itself into his neck. Crimson stained the floor.

"H-How?" he said.

"Looks like you are out of luck," Vincent said, picking up the discarded gun. "But don't feel bad. The outcome was already decided."

The pistol screamed. The man never moved again.

"Now, what do we have here," he said, turning his attention toward the monitors.

He typed a little on the keyboard. The communications log turned up and he glanced over it. Transmissions went to bases in Los Angeles, Oslo, Sydney, and Colombo.

Noise outside. The others were alerted.


It was a good thing no one was patrolling the warehouse at night, which gave me free rein over it.

After getting ahold of the manifest, I picked out all the important items they stored and loaded them into the truck. They would fetch a pretty bounty at the Clock Tower. But most importantly, they would hurt the Syndicate.

Once I made sure the back of our escape vehicle was closed, I went ahead to prep the garage door to open.

Faint gunfire broke the silence. I reached for my earpiece.

"What the hell is going on up there?" I said.

"Just a... minor complication!" Vincent said. "I hope everything's prepped because I'll be down there in thirty seconds."

Just great. This was why I preferred to work alone.

I punched the button on the wall to open the garage door and ran to the truck. The gunfire got louder. I slid the key in and started the engine.

Come on. Where the hell was he?

The door connecting the warehouse to the administrative building slammed open.

"I'm approaching now!" he said over comms.

The door for the co-drivers seat opened and Vincent jumped in. I thrust my foot onto the gas pedal in response.

"Whatever happened to stealth?" I said.

"No plan survives first contact with the enemy," he said.

"That's a shitty excuse," I said.

We left the premises of the building. I fished out the detonator from my pocket, one hand still on the wheel.

*Click*

Light flashed on the side-view mirror, followed by an explosion.

"Mission accomplished," he said, leaning back and putting both hands behind his head.

"Not as clean as I'd have liked it to though," I said, glancing at him.

He didn't get wounded or hit at all, huh? At least he wasn't bad at staying alive.

"Oh, come on," he said. "Don't be so uptight. Life would be boring without a little excitement."

I sighed. Our drive continued in silence for a few minutes as we built distance to the Syndicate's base.

"Ah, I got it!" Vincent said, leaning over. "You need to find yourself a girlfriend, man."

"Yeah, right," I said. "Have you ever considered a career in standup comedy?"

"Good one," he said. "But hey, at least I managed to get a laugh out of that gloom and doom face of yours."

I couldn't believe it, but the reflection of me in the windshield confirmed it. I had no idea I could still have any emotions left after what happened. Maybe teaming up wasn't such a bad call after all.

"That reminds me," I said. "Did you get info on other bases or outposts of the Syndicate?"

"Yeah, they were in contact with three others over the network," he said. "What do you say we tackle them next, partner?"


Author's Note:

A little late, but Happy New Year to everyone reading this :D