The magitech engine of the sedan hummed softly, a low vibration barely perceptible beneath the plush synthetic leather seats. Outside the window, the cityscape of Vesperia sped by—a kaleidoscope of towering Gothic architecture, illuminated by green and purple magic neon lights reflecting off the wet cobblestone streets.
In the passenger seat, Devon sat with a posture that was relaxed yet alert. In his left hand, he held an onigiri that had been bitten halfway through—its spicy squid tentacle filling providing a pleasant, stinging sensation on his tongue. In his right hand, he gripped a cold, ocean-blue can labeled "Mermaid Milk Coffee: Deep Sea Salt Flavor."
Devon took a sip. The taste was strange. Sweet, creamy, but with a lingering trace of salt on the roof of his mouth, as if the dairy cow had just gone swimming in the ocean.
It's passable, he thought flatly, chewing his onigiri slowly.
However, behind his impassive face, partially obscured by heavy bangs, Devon's mind was working at high speed, replaying the brutal events of the last few days like a broken record.
Where did that cat actually go? he wondered, referring to Stormclaw. Is he dead? Burned to a crisp in that explosion? Or perhaps he's licking his wounds in some sewer?
Then there was Reven. That crazy woman in the lab coat. Her trail was cold. There were absolutely no leads.
Devon let out a long sigh, his breath forming a thin mist in the air-conditioned car. Honestly, he felt no burning desire for revenge. Revenge was exhausting. Inefficient. And going against someone like Reven—a genius psychopath who could level a city block just out of boredom—without proper preparation was the definition of a foolish suicide.
I'm not ready, he concluded coldly. If I met her now with my limited equipment, I would just become the next surgical specimen. Priority one: survival. Priority two: information. Priority three: good food.
In the driver's seat, Elara hummed softly along to a demon pop song playing on the radio. The goblin girl drove with one hand, relaxed yet skilled. Occasionally, her large yellow eyes glanced toward Devon.
Elara's gaze wasn't fixed on Devon's face, but slightly higher. To the side of his head. Specifically, toward a pair of small, furry red wings protruding from Devon's black hair. The wings twitched slightly every time the car went over a speed bump, and Elara had to suppress a squeal of adoration every time she saw them.
"We're almost there, Mister Devon!" Elara said cheerfully, breaking the silence.
The car turned smoothly, entering a residential area that was much quieter and more upscale than the station district. The houses here had manicured lawns with artistic wrought-iron fences.
The car pulled up in front of an elegant, gray-painted, two-story Victorian-style house.
"I'm going to change clothes for a second," Elara said as she killed the engine. "This academy uniform is a bit stiff for a walk. Mister Devon, could you wait outside for a bit? or do you want to come in?"
"I'll just wait outside," Devon replied, opening the car door. "I want to have a quick smoke."
Elara nodded enthusiastically and ran into the house. "Don't go anywhere! Five minutes!"
Devon stood on the sidewalk, stretching his stiff muscles. He finished the rest of his onigiri in one bite, then crumpled the plastic wrapper and the empty coffee can in his hand. He spotted a public trash can across the street.
As he walked to throw away the trash, he noticed someone's gaze.
In the yard of the house next door, a woman was watering carnivorous plants that looked like they could bite. The woman was beautiful, with reddish skin, small horns, and a tail tipped with a heart shape. A Succubus. She was wearing loungewear that was a bit too revealing for this cold weather.
As Devon passed her, the Succubus stopped watering. She looked Devon up and down, her eyes glinting mischievously. She bit her lower lip, then gave a slow, incredibly seductive wink, her tail waving flirtatiously.
Devon didn't slow his pace. He didn't turn his head. He didn't even blink. He tossed the trash into the bin with perfect three-point accuracy, then turned and walked back to Elara's car, acting as if the sexy woman next door was nothing more than a garden gnome.
Troublesome, he thought. The women in this city are so aggressive.
Ten minutes later—which in women's time meant twenty minutes—the door to Elara's house opened.
"Sorry I took so long!"
Devon turned, and his eyebrows raised slightly.
Elara had taken off her academy uniform. She was now wearing an ivory-white off-shoulder dress that showed off her smooth green skin. The skirt fell slightly above the knee, giving an impression that was elegant yet playful. She wore short brown boots and a small shoulder bag. Her white bob hair was combed neatly, and she wore a touch of blush that made her face look fresher.
She twirled once in front of Devon, her skirt flaring out. "How is it?" she asked with a look of anxious hope, her cheeks blushing a dark green.
Devon stared at her for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"It's good," he said honestly, his tone flat but sincere. "The color suits your skin. You look... fresh."
With just that simple compliment, Elara's face turned as red as a ripe tomato—or rather, a very ripe green tomato. She looked down, fiddling with the hem of her skirt, unable to hide the wide smile on her lips.
"Ehehe... thank you," she squeaked. She then looked up, her eyes sparkling again. "Alright! Let's conquer Vesperia! First destination: The Arcane Shopping District!"
The rest of the afternoon was a montage of normal activities that felt incredibly surreal to Devon. He, a former god-slayer who had just lost his cosmic powers, was now being dragged here and there by a hyperactive high school goblin girl.
They visited boutiques selling haute couture magic robes. They stopped by a magical pet shop where Devon was almost bitten by a hamster that could breathe fire. They ate crepes filled with fruits from other dimensions that tasted like fireworks on the tongue.
Elara talked incessantly. She spoke about her school, about her banshee friend who often accidentally shattered windows when she laughed, and about how difficult the Basic Metal Transmutation exam was.
Devon listened. He didn't say much, only occasionally chiming in with "Hmm," "I see," or short questions like "Is that slimy thing edible?" He tried to act as normal as possible, enjoying the role of a quiet tourist.
amidst the bustle of the shopping center, a minor disaster struck.
"ELARA!"
A shrill shout made them stop. A group of teenage girls—a mix of young vampires, werewolves in human form, and a floating ghost girl—ran toward them.
"Oh, no," Elara whispered, but she smiled. "Those are my classmates."
"Well, well, well! Elara has a boyfriend!" teased the vampire girl, grinning widely to show off her fangs.
"No-not a boyfriend!" Elara waved her hands frantically. "This is Mister Devon! He... he's a tourist! I'm just being a guide!"
Elara's friends weren't listening. They crowded around Devon, staring at him with the rude curiosity typical of teenagers. Devon stood stiff as a utility pole, hands tucked in his pockets, his face as flat as a board.
"He's so tall!" said the werewolf girl, sniffing the air around Devon. "He smells good. Like rain and... something dangerous."
"Look at his skin, so pale," commented the ghost girl, passing her transparent hand through Devon's arm. "Almost as pale as mine."
Then, their eyes fixed on Devon's head.
"KYAAA! LOOK AT THAT!" squealed the vampire girl. "Tiny wings on his head! So cuuuute!"
Before Devon could react, curious hands reached out.
"Can I touch?" they asked without waiting for an answer.
"Ehh, wait—" Devon tried to back away.
But it was too late. Their fingers touched the small red wings on the side of his head.
ZING!
An intense sensation, like static electricity mixed with a tickle that pierced his spine, shot through Devon's entire body. His shoulders jerked up, his neck retracted, and he let out a strange sound that was not manly at all.
"Eeek!"
Devon jumped back two meters, his hands covering the wings on his head, his face blushing furiously behind his bangs. He trembled, goosebumps rising on his skin.
"Do... don't touch those!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.
The girls fell silent for a moment, then exploded in hysterical laughter.
"Awhhh! His reaction is so funny!"
"He's sensitive there!"
"His wings are twitching! So cute!"
Elara laughed too, though she tried to cover it with her hand. "Sorry, Mister Devon! Your wings are just... tempting to touch."
Devon stared at them with a look of horror. He had slaughtered monster gods and consumed the very concept of space and time itself, but being surrounded by a group of high school girls wanting to touch his ears turned out to be far more terrifying.
Mental note, Devon thought while nervously fixing his hair. These wings are a forbidden zone. Very, very sensitive. Dammit.
The night had grown late. The city crowds began to thin, replaced by a quieter, more romantic atmosphere.
Devon and Elara sat on the terrace of an open-air café by the edge of Lake Mirrormere. True to its name, the surface of the lake was calm and dark, reflecting the lights of Vesperia and the twin moons in the sky with perfect clarity, creating a mesmerizing illusion of a double city.
On their table, two cups of magical herbal tea steamed fragrantly.
Devon leaned back in his chair, staring at the reflection of the moons on the water. The beauty of this place was undeniable. There was a peace here he rarely found in this crazy world.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Elara softly, her voice no longer explosive like it was this afternoon. She looked at Devon with her gentle yellow eyes.
"Yes," Devon answered briefly. "Very peaceful."
Elara played with the handle of her cup. "Mister Devon... where are you actually going after this? You said you wanted to leave immediately."
"I don't know," said Devon, shrugging. "Maybe find another city. Look for... someone."
"In that case..." Elara hesitated for a moment, her cheeks blushing green again. "If Mister Devon doesn't have a place to stay yet... you can stay at my house tonight. Dad won't mind. Our guest room is empty, and... well, it's late outside."
The offer was sincere. Innocent. And very tempting. Sleeping in a soft bed, in a warm house, far from the dangers of the street.
Devon looked at the goblin girl. She was a kind creature in a cruel world. And because of that, Devon couldn't involve himself any further. Devon's trail was always followed by blood and destruction. He didn't want to bring that to Elara's doorstep.
Devon smiled faintly, a smile that was slightly sad.
"Thank you, Elara. That's a very kind offer," he said gently. "But I can't. There are things I have to do tonight. And I... I'm the type of person who likes to move alone."
Elara looked disappointed, her ears drooping slightly. But she nodded, understanding the subtle refusal. "I understand. But promise you'll stop by again if you come to Vesperia?"
"Promise," Devon lied.
The clock struck midnight. The great bell in the city tower tolled twelve times, its sound echoing through the empty streets.
Devon walked alone on the cobblestone pavement, his coat collar turned up to block the night wind. He had just dropped Elara off at home with a magitech taxi, and now he was back in his element: darkness and solitude.
The tip of his cigarette burned bright, the only hot point on his cold face.
"Now... business," he muttered.
He wasn't looking for lodging. He was looking for information.
His eyes caught an old wooden sign swinging gently in the wind: "Ancient Books & Maps: Stardust Archives." The window was dusty, filled with towering piles of books that blocked the view inside. The light inside was still dimly lit.
Devon pushed the entrance door. A brass bell chimed.
The smell of old paper, ink, and coffee greeted him. The shop was narrow, its aisles crowded with bookshelves reaching up to the ceiling. Behind a cashier's desk buried under scrolls of maps, someone was sitting and reading.
"Sorry, we're clo—oh, please come in."
The shop owner was a beautiful adult woman. She had long purple hair braided loosely over her shoulder. Her face looked tired but friendly, with reading glasses on a chain perched on her nose. Her eyes were droopy, as if she had just woken up or hadn't slept for a decade.
But the most striking thing was her lower body. She had no legs. From the waist down, her body was a giant purple-scaled snake with intricate gold patterns. A Lamia.
Devon walked closer, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray provided near the door.
"Good evening," Devon greeted.
"Good evening, strange sir," the snake woman replied with a husky, sexy voice. She put down her book. "My name is Stella. Is there anything I can help you with at this witching hour? Looking for a vampire romance novel? Or a forbidden grimoire?"
"Devon," he introduced himself. "And no, I'm looking for a map. A very detailed map of this continent. And transport routes."
"Maps, huh? Hmm..." Stella shifted her snake body, her scales rustling softly on the wooden floor. She reached to the shelf behind her and pulled out a large scroll. "This is the standard map of the Gloomfen Sovereignty and the surrounding territories. Latest edition."
She spread the map on the table.
Devon leaned in, his sharp eyes tracing the ink lines. He saw Vesperia, Saint Veren's Gate, and the railway lines. He saw other territories. This map was far more complex than he had imagined.
"The world is vast," he muttered.
"Very vast," Stella replied, resting her chin on her hand, looking at Devon with sleepy eyes. "So, what is your destination, Mister Devon? Just traveling?"
Devon didn't lift his head from the map. "Yes. Traveling. Looking for new scenery."
He traced the train tracks leading inland. Then, with a tone he made as flat as possible, he asked, "By the way, Stella... have you ever heard of a case... something like a mad scientist attack in this region? Or biological experiments gone wrong?"
Stella blinked slowly. "Mad scientist? In Vesperia?" She chuckled softly. "No, sir. Here we only have crazy politicians and crazy artists. We are very strict about magical ethics inside the city walls. Why bring up mad scientists all of a sudden?"
Devon straightened up, looking into Stella's eyes. He decided to improvise. He put on a serious, slightly mysterious face.
"Actually..." he whispered, leaning forward. "I'm an agent."
Stella laughed, a crisp and pleasant laugh. "Agent? What agent? Real estate agent? You want to sell me a haunted castle?"
Devon smiled faintly, joining in the joke. "Something like that. An agent searching for... pests."
Stella's laughter subsided into a small smile. "Well, Mister Agent, if you're looking for pure madness, you're in the wrong place. Vesperia is too orderly."
Stella's long-nailed index finger pointed to the edge of the map, outside the borders of the Gloomfen Sovereignty.
"Out there... in the Waste of Dust or on the Iron Empire border... that's where the law doesn't apply. That's where outcasts, forbidden sorcerers, and scientists without morals set up their nests. If I were you, and I was looking for someone who didn't want to be found... I would start looking in places that aren't on the official maps."
Devon's eyes narrowed at the blank area on the map Stella pointed to.
So that's it, he thought. That means there are other countries besides the Gloomfen Sovereignty. And Nocturnus is wider than I thought. If Reven fled, she definitely went to a place where she could continue her experiments without interruption.
"Thank you, Stella," said Devon. "That is very useful information."
He took out several silver Stygian Marks and placed them on the table, paying triple the price of the map.
Stella smiled seeing the money. "You are generous, Mister Agent."
Devon rolled up the map and put it in his bag. He turned to leave.
"Hey," Stella called out. "If you need anything else... just ask."
Devon stopped at the threshold. He held the door handle, then looked back. He stared at Stella who was coiling her snake body comfortably back into her special chair. The shop was warm. Quiet. And smelled of comforting old books.
And Devon, who was tired of sleeping on trains, on the ground, or in inns that exploded, felt his pragmatic urge resurface.
"Actually, there is one more thing," said Devon flatly.
"What is it?" asked Stella.
Devon looked at her without the slightest bit of shame.
"Can I crash at your place tonight? Hotels in this city are incredibly expensive."
Stella fell silent for a moment, her eyes blinking. Then, a wide, amused smile broke across her face.
"You really are... a strange man, Devon."