The sky of Nocturnus was a permanent canvas of melancholic dusk. Heavy gray clouds hung low above the Gothic towers of Saint Veren Gate, and the recently ceased rain left the cobblestone streets glistening like wet obsidian beneath the pale green flicker of magitech gas lamps.
Inside the highest office of the Harbor Administration Tower, the atmosphere was tense. The room was a paradox—Gothic architecture on the outside, yet inside, an oddly modern luxury reminiscent of the 90s. A massive polished mahogany desk dominated the space, topped with a softly humming data terminal and a crystal ashtray filled with oddly scented cigar butts. Behind the desk, facing a giant window overlooking the bustling harbor, sat Magistrate Valerius.
He was a slick bureaucratic demon, dressed in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, his small curved horns neatly slicked back and polished to a shine. He exhaled a thin veil of smoke from his cigar, his yellow catlike eyes watching the rain with manufactured calm.
Standing before him—rigid and tense—was Sir Kellen. The human Commander of the Ebony Guard looked painfully out of place in such luxury. His steel armor was still wet from the rain, and his scar-ridden face held an expression caught between frustration and pure confusion.
"Sir," Kellen began, his voice hoarse and heavy, barely containing his irritation. "Are we really just going to let that mummy wander around freely?"
Valerius didn't turn. He only lifted his cigar, admiring its glowing ember. "A mummy?" he repeated, his voice soft and mocking. "A rather rude label for our distinguished guest, wouldn't you say, Commander?"
"He's an illegal entrant, Lord Valerius," Kellen insisted, his gauntleted hand clenching at his side. "No documents. No visa. He appeared on the roof of a train. He caused a scene in a bank by materializing gold bars out of thin air. And the demon woman with him—carrying two katanas on her back—looks like a ticking bomb ready to explode."
"Ah, yes. His wealth," Valerius said, finally turning in his plush chair, a thin smile curling on his pale lips. "Such extraordinary wealth. That alone is reason enough to grant him some leniency, Kellen. This city thrives on trade. And our 'bandage-wrapped' guest has just injected an enormous amount of capital into our economy. We need to make him feel… welcome."
"If the only reason is that he's rich, isn't that ridiculous?" Kellen shot back, his voice rising. "He's not the only wealthy tourist in this city! We have vampire nobles from Umbra Castle coming every weekend, and at least they bother to bring their paperwork!"
Valerius chuckled—a dry, humorless sound. He stood, walked to the window, and looked down at the busy streets below. "Oh, Kellen, Kellen, Kellen… You're always so practical. Always thinking like a human soldier." He turned, his catlike eyes narrowing with a sly glint. "You're right. It's not just because he's rich. He is a threat. A much greater one than you can imagine."
Kellen frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Think, Kellen," Valerius said, now circling his desk, approaching the commander. "Use that metal-wrapped brain of yours. Where did the terrified demon teller in the bank claim he came from?"
"Kemetia," Kellen answered. "The Land of Sand."
"Exactly. Kemetia," Valerius hissed. "Land of the Pharaohs. Land of pyramids. Land of ancient tombs." He stopped right in front of Kellen, staring into him. "And our guest—how is he dressed?"
"…Like a mummy," Kellen admitted, now realizing where this was going.
"LIKE THE GOLDEN PHARAOH GODS!" Valerius shouted, his thin smile spreading into a wide, slightly deranged grin. "A great tomb guardian! And what do they worship in Kemetia, Kellen? Sand spirits? Desert ghosts?"
Kellen fell silent, eyes widening as he grasped the horrifying implication of Valerius's twisted logic.
"THE SUN, Kellen!" Valerius whispered dramatically. "They worship RA! HORUS! ANUBIS! Gods of burning light and unavoidable judgment! Gods who, according to legend, can command the sun itself!"
He whirled and pointed outside the window, toward the eternally gray sky of Nocturnus.
"Do you have any idea, Commander," he continued, his voice now a tense, paranoid whisper, "what would happen if we angered this Sun God disguised as a mummy? What would happen if he felt insulted because we asked for his silly 'documents'? What if he decided that our comfortable eternal dusk… needed a little bit of illumination?"
Valerius was now trembling at the thought of his own imagination.
"He would bring the sun down upon Nocturnus! He would burn away our fog! And all the low-class vampires—the dockworkers, the couriers, half the city's labor force—they would turn to ash in seconds!"
Kellen's face paled behind his helmet. "The citizens…"
"Would panic!" Valerius shrieked. "The economy would collapse! Trade would halt! And Her Imperial Majesty Hesperia, who cherishes her order and peace in Vesperia, would be VERY UNPLEASED. And guess who she would blame, Kellen?"
Kellen swallowed hard. At last, he understood.
"So yes, Commander," Valerius said, suddenly calm again as he straightened his tie. "We will let the 'mummy' roam freely. We will make sure he gets the best kebab. We will ensure his demon woman gets something to hack apart if she wishes—perhaps a few prisoners from the dungeon. Under no circumstances will we anger the Sun God." He returned to his seat and lit a fresh cigar. "Now, get out of my office. Your paranoia is stressing me out."
Down in the bustling streets of the Crucible District, Imortal walked with an aura of regal indifference. The rain had stopped, leaving puddles that reflected the colorful neon lights of countless shop signs.
"Hahahahaha…" he chuckled softly behind his golden Pharaoh mask. His echoing voice—a blend of his own monotone and the ancient melody of Nephryss—sounded strange amid the crowd.
'Okay, I'm rich. Very rich,' he thought, feeling the weight of a suitcase full of money now stored safely within his magical dimension. 'So what do I do with all this money? Maybe I'll gamble in one of those luxury casinos in the Rusted Promenade. Or buy expensive, useless things. Go to a fancy restaurant and order something that doesn't try to eat me back. Or maybe even…'
A thin grin—felt only by himself—formed beneath the mask.
"…hire some women…"
"Heeee… what do you think, Kageyama?" he said teasingly, glancing down to where he assumed his insane companion was following him.
No one was there.
Imortal stopped in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. A large demon with shopping bags bumped into his back and grumbled, but Imortal didn't move. He looked left. He looked right. The street was full of strange creatures, but none of them were a beautiful demon woman in black armor with an unhealthy obsession with violence.
"…Huh?" he muttered to the silence. "Where'd she go?"
Far behind him, in the chaos of the station square, Kageyama was having the time of her life. She had no idea she'd been separated. She was far too mesmerized by her new toy—a shimmering raven-feather pen she'd stolen from the bank reception desk.
"Swoosh! Hya! Die, Captain of the Royal Guard!" she whispered to herself, jabbing the air with the feather pen, moving with elegant sword-like motions. She leapt back, dodging imaginary attacks, and accidentally stepped on the foot of a very grumpy-looking old vampire woman.
"Sorry, Grandma!" she yelled without looking back, continuing her epic duel.
She spun, balanced the pen on her nose, and burst into laughter. She kept walking, carried along by the crowd, eyes glued to her new toy. Eventually, she stopped. She had just defeated her imaginary demon king (who looked suspiciously like the crab bartender) and turned around to show off her victory to her master.
"Master! Did you see that? I won! I—"
She froze. The streets around her were full of strangers. No giant golden Pharaoh. No towering figure to cling to.
Her triumphant expression crumbled instantly, replaced by the pure panic of a child who just lost their parent in a mall.
"Eh?" Her bright blue eyes darted left and right. "Master? MASTER?! WHERE DID YOU GO, YOU STUPID MUMMY?!"
She bolted, running through the crowd, shoving demons and gargoyles aside, calling his name over and over, her voice drowned in the noise of the dusk city.
High above the city, a small black cloud of sand drifted silently, defying the wind. Imortal, now in his subtle sand form, floated above the Gothic towers, scanning the streets below.
'Hhh… what a nuisance,' he thought, his echoing voice now the whisper of the wind itself. 'Leave her alone for five minutes and she gets lost. It's like babysitting a hyperactive child with lethal weaponry.'
He caught sight of a blur of black and blue chaos in the station square—Kageyama was now shaking the shoulders of an Ebony Guard officer, demanding to know where her "tall shiny master" was.
'Okay, she's fine. For now,' Imortal thought. He was about to descend to retrieve her when something else caught his attention.
A sound.
Not the sound of the city's crowd. A hidden sound, coming from one of the countless narrow alleys that split the buildings like scars. A rhythmic, heavy noise.
Thud… thud… thud…
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