The West Hall of the Spire.

  Noll pressed himself against the wall, moving deeper into the territory of Kris. The silence here was heavy, broken only by the hum of the crystals.

  “So,” a sarcastic voice echoed directly inside his skull. “If I understand this correctly, you think your blaster is in the Clan Head’s office?”

  Noll didn’t stop moving, but he glanced over his shoulder.

  Floating behind him was a young woman. She was beautiful, dressed in elaborate robes of neon pink and deep violet, looking like a witch plucked straight out of a fairy tale.

  She was real, though only Noll could see her. She had been human, once. At least, that’s what she told Noll. He was doubtful about it.

  But now, she was a spirit. The Spirit of Noll’s Nexus-Blade.

  “And why do you think that?” Emma smiled, drifting through a solid stone pillar as if it were mist.

  “Why don’t you rummage through my mind like you always do?” Noll didn’t need to speak aloud. “You will find your answer soon enough.”

  Emma’s smile widened, sharp and teasing.

  “My, my~ That is no way to speak to your mother…”

  Noll flinched. He stopped walking, his gloved hand tightening into a fist. He looked down at the floor, taking a sharp breath, before ignoring the comment and pointing at the corner ahead.

  “If you’re done dreaming, I need your help.” He gestured at the intersection. “Locations and number of guards.”

  Emma hovered in place, crossing her arms. She looked at him expectantly, her eyebrow raised.

  Noll grit his teeth. He hated this part.

  “…Please.”

  Emma’s smile returned, though it never reached her eyes. “Good boy.”

  Noll’s eye twitched.

  She floated forward, phasing through the wall at the corner.

  Noll waited, counting the seconds. A moment later, her voice hummed in his mind again.

  “Grand celebrations have their perks. The floor is mostly empty. Two guards stationed outside the double doors at the end of the hall. Standard heavy armor. Bored. Interesting how none of them are from Clan Kris, but Clan Ferrum.”

  “Perfect…”

  Noll raised his hand. Borrowed mana flickered around his fingers—not the chaotic energy of a raw mage, but structured, geometric lines of light.

  He conjured a small sphere. It was bright pink.

  At this stage, it was inert—just a raw shell of pink mana. To make it useful, he had to assign it properties.

  He manipulated the construct’s parameters in his mind. Property 1: Elasticity. Property 2: Acoustic Resonance.

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  Two properties. Always. Her rule. Her leash.

  He looked at the ball. No. Too simple. Too obedient.

  He breathed in, and the sphere grew a thin outer shell—like a lantern cage—connected by a single thread to a small pull-loop resting in his fingers.

  A complex construct, yet it counts as one thing.

  Emma tilted her head. “What’s that?”

  “A loophole,” Noll thought back. “Or proof there isn’t one.”

  He snapped the pull-loop. The cage unfused—splitting into a dozen little pieces that should not have been allowed to exist under her rules. For a heartbeat they hung in the air, perfectly arranged…

  Then they evaporated like mist, leaving only the original sphere, already flying.

  Right before the impact, Noll covered his ears.

  BANG.

  It hit the wall with the volume of a cannon shot. The guards jumped, snapping straight. They grabbed their spears and sprinted toward the noise, shouting orders.

  By the time they turned the corner, the pink ball had already dispelled into nothingness.

  Emma let out a small laugh.

  “My, my~ Such creativity while using my powers…” she imitated tears. “I am so proud.”

  Noll ignored her. He manifested a flat pink disk beneath his boots, hovering inches off the ground to silence his footsteps, and glided rapidly toward the door.

  He stopped at the handle. Without wasting a second, he dispelled the disk and conjured a thin pink rod, which he jammed into the keyhole.

  He channeled a thought. State change: Liquid.

  The rod melted, flowing into every groove and tumbler of the lock.

  State change: Solid.

  The construct hardened instantly, becoming a perfect copy of the key. Noll gripped the end of the rod, turned it to the left, and felt the satisfying click of the deadbolt sliding back.

  He turned the knob with his gloved hand.

  The door opened.

  A rush of cool air greeted him, carrying the faint scent of old wood and forgotten secrets.

  “Just like old times…” Emma hummed behind him. “And since it is a banquet, we can have dinner later.”

  He hesitated for only a moment, listening for any sign of movement beyond the doorway, then stepped inside with measured caution.

  The office was unlike any he’d seen before—its walls adorned with intricate mosaics of crystal fragments that shimmered faintly, catching stray beams of light in prismatic bursts. Shelves lined the room, each displaying an array of glintstones and star-shaped geodes, their surfaces etched with arcane symbols and subtle constellations.

  In the center stood a broad desk of polished obsidian, its edges veined with threads of silver and starlight, papers scattered beside delicate instruments designed for crystal shaping and energy manipulation. The air held a clean, electric tang, as if charged with the latent power of the artifacts it housed, and overhead, a ceiling mural depicted a swirling night sky, studded with embedded gemstones that sparkled like real stars.

  Emma looked carefully along the pattern. She smiled, smacking her lips. “Very interesting…”

  Noll’s eye flicked. Not the time.

  He frantically looked around the office, sending a pink construct to investigate the small and hidden corners.

  It should be somewhere here. He has to have it here. He can’t just have it on himself. A Clan Head, with a tech weapon. The Council would eat him alive.

  “So… this whole operation is based on a hunch?” Emma gripped Noll’s shoulders, whispering into his ear. “Are you that desperate for your blaster?”

  Noll clutched his gloved Nexus-Blade with his hand, fingers digging in, ready to rip the prosthetic off just to silence her. But then, he stopped. He breathed, slowly, his body trembling, before forcing himself to calm down.

  After scouring the entire office, the pink construct coiled back and immediately dispelled itself.

  “The blaster is not here…”

  For a moment, Noll just stared at nothing.

  Emma patted him on the back—a gesture of mock sympathy.

  “Don’t kill yourself over it, Noll. It’s just a blaster.” She paused, a cruel grin spreading across her face. “Well… it was yours, right? The only thing truly yours?”

  ***

  The VIP section of the Spire.

  “So careless,” Tim chuckled, looking at his office through a crystal transmission floating above his wine glass.

  “I didn’t realize Clan Kris had eyes inside its own walls,” Madame Herling said, sitting nearby. She watched the projection with a raised eyebrow. “Since when does this place have such capabilities?”

  “It didn't,” Tim replied, his smile sharp as he watched Noll leave the room. “Implementing this system was one of the reasons I became the Clan Head.”

  Tim shifted his gaze to the two figures sitting in the room with them. To the left, Illian Kris, with a large body of pure muscles, was currently bending a metal rod into knots with his bare hands. To the right, meditating with a circle of crystals around him, Laurent Ferrum.

  He was looking at them, admiring the results of his hard work.

  “And these two are the other reason…” Tim muttered under his breath. “Too bad the council doesn’t share my enthusiasm.”