The moment the teleporting attacker vanished, Lucien turned back to Cédric.
"Can you stand?" he asked.
Cédric wiped blood from his brow and forced a shaky grin. "I've had worse. I think."
Lucien helped him steady himself, then crossed the alley toward the man he had dismembered.The assassin writhed on the ground, clutching the bleeding stump where his leg had been. His breath came in ragged, furious snarls...less from pain than from frustration.
Lucien crouched beside him.
"Look at me."
The man spat on the ground.
Lucien's voice dropped, calm and cold."Who sent you? Why attack a representative of the Association?"
The assassin's jaw clenched. His eyes held defiance… and something else.Fear.
But before Lucien could pry deeper...
Shouts echoed down the alley.
"Association security! Move aside!"
A squad of armed agents rushed in, quickly securing the wounded assassin, suppressing his screams with a sedative spell. Two healers ran past Lucien to tend to Cédric.
A figure followed behind them, coat pressed, expression sharp, eyes narrowed with authority.The man stopped in front of Lucien and Cédric, scanning them like pieces of evidence.
"I am Inspector Mazen," he announced. "Both of you will follow me for questioning."
Lucien's eyes narrowed.
"We're the victims," he replied evenly.
"And you'll remain victims," Mazen said, "as long as we determine what happened here. Now follow me. Both of you."
The dismissive tone hit Lucien like grit between teeth. He didn't like this man. Not his presence, not his attitude, not the way he spoke as if giving orders to subordinates.
A healer finished treating Cédric's wounds. "You're stable enough to walk," she said gently.
Cédric nodded, rubbing his bandaged ribs. "Let's just… get this over with."
Lucien placed a hand briefly on his shoulder."You sure?"
"I'm fine," Cédric replied, though his wince betrayed otherwise. "Come on."
Inspector Mazen turned sharply and walked out of the alley, fully expecting them to follow.
Cédric stepped after him.
Lucien followed too...but every instinct screamed that this man's arrival was too convenient…too fast…and too confident.
Something wasn't right.
And Lucien knew he was walking toward more questions than answers.
Inside the Association building, the atmosphere shifted... bright stone walls, reinforced glass, the quiet vibrations of mana-detection wards.Inspector Mazen led them through the security corridor without a word.
He stopped, turned, and extended a hand toward Lucien.
"Your weapons."
Lucien didn't blink. "No."
"That wasn't a request," Mazen replied, voice sharpening.
Lucien stepped closer, eyes steady, posture relaxed but coiled... like a blade sheathed but ready to be drawn."If you want my swords," he said quietly, "you will come and take them yourself."
The agents behind Mazen hesitated. Mazen didn't.A slow smile spread across his lips... not friendly, but amused.
Cédric quickly stepped between them.
"Okay... stop. Lucien, trust me."He turned to Mazen. "I'll handle his gear."
Lucien raised a brow. "Handle how... ?"
Cédric lifted his hand. A swirling black aperture bloomed in the air... silent, small, impossibly dense.A blackhole , no bigger than a shield, its edges rippling like the surface of oil.
"Subspace," Cédric said.
Lucien felt the pull... gentle, controlled.Both of his swords slipped from his back, drawn into the void as if swallowed by shadow. The portal snapped shut a heartbeat later.
Even Mazen blinked, surprised."That will suffice."
Lucien stared at Cédric, genuinely impressed."You could've told me you could do that."
Cédric shrugged. "You never asked."
Mazen cleared his throat, impatience returning."This way."
He guided them down a hallway to a stark grey room... an interrogation chamber disguised as an "interview office." Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. A single table, two metal chairs, and surveillance spells glimmering faintly in the corners.
"Wait here," Mazen said. "I'll be back shortly."
He closed the door behind him.
Silence settled.
Lucien sat, arms crossed, gaze fixed on nothing. His breathing calm. His expression unreadable.
But beneath the surface...he was on the brink of explosion.
His weapons taken. His path delayed.Someone had tried to kill Cédric. And now this inspector acted as though he were the threat.
Cédric sat beside him, rubbing the bandages on his ribs.
"You know," he said quietly, "you're doing a good job not punching anybody."
Lucien didn't answer. He simply stared forward.
But the tension in his jaw was answer enough.
Meanwhile at the Beaumont manor, the atmosphere was calm and warm... at least until the front doors opened.
Renan and Mira stepped inside, brushing off the dust of their latest mission. Mr. Roger greeted them with his usual impeccable posture and a respectful bow.
"Welcome back, Miss Mira. Sir Renan. I trust the mission went smoothly?"
"As smoothly as a diplomatic mess can go," Mira sighed, pulling off her gloves. Renan chuckled in agreement.
They walked together toward the debriefing room, exchanging notes, on what went right, what went wrong, and how Mira had once again bullied a hostile envoy into cooperating.
But halfway through the recap, Renan's phone vibrated.
He glanced down at the screen.
A message from one of his contacts.
Jaffa.
His expression sharpened. "Give me a second."
He opened the message. A photo filled the screen... an injured man slumped against a metallic wall, bleeding heavily. On his arm, clear as day:
The same mark as the assassins.
Mira noticed the change in Renan's expression immediately. "What is it?"
"One of my contacts. Jaffa region." He turned the screen toward her.
Mira leaned in, her brows knitting. "He has the mark… So he reached the Association? In Jaffa ?"
Renan shook his head. "I don't know. I'm asking."
He typed a quick message.
Less than a minute later, his phone vibrated again.
Another photo.
This time: Lucien and Cedric entering the Association building, escorted by agents.
Mira shot to her feet so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "Mr. Roger," she said sharply, already grabbing her coat, "prepare the plane. We're leaving."
Mr. Roger didn't ask why. "Right away, Miss Mira."
Renan pocketed his phone, eyes narrowing. "Looks like things just got complicated."
Mira's jaw tightened. "Then we move."
And the manor burst into motion.
Back inside the interrogation room in Jaffa, the tension had settled into something suffocating.
Cedric tried the door again. Nothing. Not even a click.
"It's locked from the outside," he muttered, pressing his ear against the metal. "Hello? Agents? Anyone?"No response. Not even static.
Lucien didn't move. He stood utterly still, eyes narrowed, breath slowing. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The air felt heavy, like the room itself was holding its breath.
Cedric noticed it. "Lucien…?"
Lucien's gaze swept the corners, the ceiling, the floor. His instincts were screaming. Danger. Immediate danger.
"Give me my swords," he said quietly.
Cedric blinked. "What? Why? We're in the Association..."
"Give. Me. My. Swords."The edge in Lucien's voice was razor-sharp. Cedric had never seen him like this... jaw tight, muscles coiled, every sense locked onto something Cedric couldn't detect.
Cedric swallowed. "Okay… okay. Subspace."
He reached out with his skill...but just as the black slit began to form in the air...
SHUNK.
Cedric gasped, his eyes going wide. A blade... thin, invisible just materialized only when already inside him. It pierced through his back and out his abdomen.
"Cedric!" Lucien lunged forward.
Cedric staggered, the blade sliding free and vanishing as if it had never existed. Blood spilled between his fingers.
Lucien had moved him... barely... just before impact. If he hadn't, the strike would've pierced his heart.
But Cedric was still gravely wounded.
And worse...
They were trapped.The room sealed.One enemy, invisible and silent... still inside with them.
Lucien positioned himself between Cedric and the empty air, his eyes scanning the room like a predator stalking another predator.
His voice was low, controlled, dangerous.
"Show yourself."
Nothing answered.
Only the whisper of air.And the knowledge that the next strike could come from anywhere.