The cold, congealed grease from the meal clung to the edge of Beat’s lower lip. Slowly, he wiped it away with the back of his hand. The room around him smelled of trapped moisture, old paper, and burnt candle wax.
Everywhere he looked, eyes stared back at him from the walls. Heavy wooden frames, engraved with golden ornaments, covered every inch of the room. On every canvas, every sketched portrait, and every porcelain figurine stacked along the windowsills, the same scene appeared again and again: a young woman with a melancholic expression and a little boy holding her hand. Their faces had been rendered with obsessive precision, as though the artist had burned every detail of their features into his memory.
In the silence of the room, the sharp crackle of the CrystalEye receiver in Beat’s ear suddenly broke through.
“Uh… ahem.” Solomon cleared his throat. His voice sounded faint, as though it were travelling through a magical channel from miles beneath the earth. “Finished eating? We have work to do. Focus, Beat.”
Deep in the university’s basement within the Ward, the magical viewing mirrors were arranged in a semicircular formation. Nicola slapped his palm against the edge of the stone table. Sweat glistened on his forehead beneath the harsh light of the oil lamps.
“You need to prepare yourself,” Nicola immediately cut in, his voice trembling with barely contained tension. “Lord Zu wants you to come see him. He’s waiting. But that gives us exactly the opening we need. While you make your way upstairs, let that CrystalEye do its job. Down here at the university, we’ll analyse every corridor, every corner, and every signal that comes through.”
Doppo stepped behind Nicola. His massive frame cast a broad shadow over the illuminated tables. He leaned forward, his expression stern and the deep lines around his mouth tightening.
“Beat… listen carefully. You have no room for mistakes up there. In and out. No showing off, no confrontations. Keep a low profile. Think you can manage that for once?”
In the same basement, among the rows of projection mirrors displaying the view from Beat’s eyes, Zico leaned against a stone pillar. His clothes were battered, the sleeves of his robe rolled up to his elbows, revealing old scars running like pale threads along his forearms. He glanced at the footage of the dormitory with a crooked, sardonic smile and let out a short, hoarse laugh.
“Being discreet is about as easy for him as breathing underwater.”
Beat didn't move. He ignored the voices in his ear and took a slow step towards the mirror with the cracked edge, which rested against the cabinet. He studied his own reflection, trapped within the Muler disguise. His eyes reflected what little light remained in the room.
Slowly, his gaze drifted towards a porcelain figurine of the woman and the child standing on a small table beside the mirror.
“Zico…” Beat’s voice dropped so low and flat that it immediately silenced the static on the line. “Who’s the lucky lady with the child in all these paintings and figurines?”
The constant hiss of the smoke pipes in the university basement continued in the background, but a crushing, icy silence fell over the communication channel.
Not a single breath. Not a chair moving.
Zico closed his eyes. The faintly provocative expression that had been on his face moments earlier melted away. His shoulders sank a few inches. He stepped back from the mirrors, gripped the edge of a wooden workbench, and lowered his head. When he exhaled, it sounded like dry wood cracking.
“I’m doing all of this for them…”
Zico’s voice trembled slightly, but he forcibly steadied it.
“Lord Zu is holding them captive. Somewhere deep within the fortress’s upper ring. If he didn’t have them, he’d have nothing to keep me here. Nothing. And it’s not just me. Almost every student walking around up there with a weapon in their hands is in the same position. He possesses the Marionette Anting. Do you understand what that means? He can see through their eyes whenever he wants. He can control their muscles. But worse than that… every physical blow, every cut, every potentially fatal injury he suffers can be transferred to those under his control in a fraction of a second. Years ago… when someone attempted to assassinate him and nearly succeeded… every first-year student collapsed in a single instant that afternoon. Dead. Their lives drained away to save his.”
Solomon stared at the glowing runes across the tables in the university basement. His wrinkled hand clenched into a fist. He slowly turned towards Doppo, his eyes clouded with concern.
“Mm… We need to rethink our tactics. This is no ordinary infiltration anymore. We’re sending him into a slaughterhouse.”
Doppo raised one massive hand, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
“No. Give it time. Beat knows what he’s doing.”
BOOM.
A dull, splintering crash shook the dormitory. The wooden doorframe cracked with a deafening snap. Dust, dried plaster, and splintered wood burst through the air. Before Beat could even reach for the copper handle, two powerful kicks tore the door from its hinges. The heavy panel slammed against the inner wall with a dull thud.
Two women came tumbling through the doorway in a screaming tangle of arms, legs, and torn fabric. The first bounced across the wooden floorboards. She was a flamboyant, fiery presence, with long burgundy hair hanging in wild strands across her face. Her eyes burned with a dangerous, calculated fury, already blazing with adrenaline. The second woman lay half-pinned beneath her. Smaller and softer in appearance, she had a tear-streaked face and a strand of dark hair stuck to her wet cheek.
Deep in the university basement within the Ward, Ten and Combusken sprang to their feet as though bitten by a snake. Their heavy wooden chairs toppled backwards and crashed against the stone floor. They stared at the central mirror, their eyes wide with shock. Their fingers dug deep into the wooden worktable.
“We need to get them out of there!” Solomon immediately roared through the channel. “Now! This is escalating!”
Nicola began pacing furiously around the basement. His shoes clacked against the concrete floor as he desperately clutched his hair.
“Think, think! If he crosses Zu’s limit, the entire fortress will go on high alert! How do we get around his control?!”
Zico was no longer looking at the symbols on the tables. His eyes were fixed firmly on the image in the mirror. They narrowed.
“His honour!” he suddenly shouted, his voice warping with tension. “If he's put in a situation where he has to prove his strength, he can't simply interfere with his strings! There's an ancient rule within those walls: the Standoff! You can challenge any teacher or superior at any time, whether it's a test of speed, raw strength… it doesn't matter! The rules require them to accept. They are legally bound to honour the challenge!”
Nicola abruptly stopped pacing. A cold, sharp glint appeared in his eyes. Silarias and Nyx, who had been leaning against the back wall, slowly exchanged glances. The realization hit them like a block of ice.
“Wait… that means…” Silarias muttered.
“Zico, names!” Nicola snapped. “Who are those women?! Which is which?!”
Zico shouted their names through the channel.
“The angry one is Lyra! The sad one is Chichi! Lyra is Kanchi’s wife, and Chichi is Kori’s fiancée! Ten and Combusken, to use their honoured names!”
Inside the dormitory, Beat glanced from the two panting women on the floor to the wrecked doorway. Without the slightest hint of urgency, he moved his arm. He picked up the heavy, detached oak door panel as though it were made of cardboard, lifted it, and pressed it back into the broken doorframe with a single firm push, blocking the view from the corridor.
“Oh… Chichi, Lyra, calm down for a moment,” Beat said in an oddly even, almost monotone voice. “Close the door. We need to talk.”
Lyra jerked upright. Her hands were trembling, but her posture immediately turned defensive. She brushed a thick strand of red hair away from her face, nudged Chichi sharply in the shoulder, and fixed her gaze on Beat.
“Right, Chichi, close the door! We need to have a serious talk about where the hell our men have gone! Why are we here alone?!”
Meanwhile, in the university basement, a brainstorming session was in full swing. Aurelius slid large parchment maps across the stone tables while Silarias and Nyx rapidly fired tactical suggestions at Nicola, who frantically scribbled down notes.
Beat half-closed his eyes. He ignored the stream of information pouring into his earpiece. Leaning his broad back against the cracked wall beside the window, he stared directly at the two women.
“Hm… yeah. You're part of the university here in the Ward, so why not? The truth is, we were captured at first. But the link has been lifted. Your eyes have been opened, and they want you back. So the question is simple: are you willing to do whatever it takes to help me get you out of here and break the link?”
Lyra’s breath caught halfway up her throat. The colour drained from her face. She stared at Beat as though a ghost had just spoken to her, then abruptly turned towards Chichi.
“WHAT?!”
Chichi didn't look at Lyra. She was still kneeling among the splinters on the floor, but her shoulders had stopped trembling. She stared directly at Beat. The paralyzing fear on her face slowly, visibly transformed into steely determination.
“I'm in,” Chichi said. Her voice was small, but taut as a guitar string.
Lyra's mouth fell open.
“Chichi?! Have you completely lost your mind?!”
“My Ten…” Chichi’s voice trembled for a moment, but a single glistening tear rolled down her cheek without her ever taking her eyes off Beat. “My Ten is there. I'm done waiting. I'll do it.”
Lyra swallowed the lump in her throat. She clenched her fists so tightly against the floorboards that her knuckles turned white. Her breathing grew ragged. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath of dusty air, and slowly exhaled.
“Yeah… you're right. Anything to see Kanchi again.”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the rough back of her hand and looked Beat straight in the eyes.
“What now, Zico?”
Back in the university basement, the chaos abruptly fell silent. Solomon, Nicola, and Zico stared at the main mirror with their mouths hanging open. The detailed instructions Nicola had been about to give died on his tongue. They were so stunned by the way Beat had completely taken control of the situation in less than thirty seconds that nobody dared to interfere anymore.
They decided to let him rely on his own instincts.
“Hm,” Beat murmured softly towards the weathered ceiling. “I can't hear anything through the line right now… but whatever. You two stay here. Quickly, fill me in. I've been away for a long time. What's the situation here, and where do things stand now?”
Lyra stepped forward, her posture tense as a coiled spring. She spoke in a low, hurried voice, glancing sideways at the blocked doorway.
“Uh… what have you missed? Lord Zu has become much more dangerous. Far more dangerous than when you were here. He's placed eyes all over the fortress, although fortunately he can't monitor all of them at once. He's created some kind of creature… a woman. She was an orphan who was already half torn apart when they brought her in. He rebuilt her using spare parts from other bodies and infused her with pure residue. Far too much of it, apparently… which is why she moves faster than anything else around here. But she's mainly being used as a test subject for the latest equipment.
“And Haema… Haema has quickly become his right hand and his sword. Watch out for him. Move slowly whenever he's nearby. And whatever you do, don't bleed in his presence… if he gets your blood, he'll gain complete control over you immediately.”
Chichi hurriedly added, her fingers clutching the fabric of her dress.
“They've really gone completely mad up there. Completely—”
“Uh… ahem.”
A hoarse, low voice interrupted her.
A tall, skinny figure stood halfway in the deep shadows of the corridor outside, just beyond the crookedly propped door panel. His arms hung unusually long at his sides, and his face was partially concealed beneath a filthy hood.
“Zico… before you go to Lord Zu, I need to torture you for an hour to make up for all the time you've missed. You'll be torturing the test subject. We need to test a few new torture devices on the walls… and by ‘we’, I mean you. Sorry, mate.”
Beat looked at the man. There was no alarm on his face, only a faint, cold smile.
“Hm… yeah. Let's go. Lyra, Chichi… I'll be back in a few hours.”
Beat stepped over the broken wood and into the dark corridor. As he passed the skinny man, he casually extended a hand.
“Zico Thunderwalk. Pleased to meet you.”
The man stared strangely at the outstretched hand for a moment before taking it and wrapping his fingers around Beat's with a cold, metallic grip.
“Mon. Demonic Bulls.”
He tightened his grip, narrowing his eyes beneath his hood.
“Why were you laughing, Zico?”
Beat looked directly into the dark hollows beneath the man's hood without giving an inch, despite the pressure threatening to crush his bones.
“Never knew people around here said sorry.”
In a flash, Beat pulled his hand free, stepped past him, and gave Mon a firm slap on the shoulder.
Mon remained frozen in place for a second. His eyes stared blankly ahead.
How does he…? How can he move like that…? he thought, glancing down at his own palms.
He shook his head, swallowed a curse, and started walking. He led Beat through the complex's dark, rust-covered corridors, where moisture steadily dripped from the stone ceilings onto the wooden floorboards.
Eventually, they stopped in front of a gigantic Gothic double door made of black wrought iron. The seams were coated with a thin layer of grease and soot. Mon pushed the doors open with a dull, scraping groan.
The room beyond was enormous. A dark, cathedral-like hall where the air was so heavy it reeked of dried blood, burnt oil, and heated metal.
One by one, massive magical orbs of light flickered to life along the edges of the ceiling. Their sharp white beams sliced through the pitch-black darkness before converging on the exact centre of the hall.
There, in the full glare of the light, knelt a pale woman. Her skin was so white that it resembled cold, polished marble. She didn't move like a human being. Her body jerked and darted frantically from side to side at an insane, almost unnatural speed, yet she never travelled more than two meters in either direction. Heavy iron chains, each as thick as a man's fist and anchored to the stone floor, repeatedly yanked her back with a harsh metallic screech.
The image was transmitted with perfect clarity to the mirror in the university basement. Solomon and Doppo leaned closer to its surface.
With a series of loud bangs, the secondary light orbs along the sides of the hall flickered on. The walls weren't made of stone at all. They were completely covered in hydraulic presses, toothed cutting machinery, massive meat hooks, and custom-built stainless-steel clamps designed to slowly and methodically strip flesh from bone.
Beat calmly surveyed the room. He briefly lowered his broad shoulders and let out a deep sigh.
“Sorry,” he murmured softly towards his earpiece, addressing the people in the university basement.
He then turned towards Mon, who was standing beside the chains.
“I have to be honest… I'm absolutely starving. And Lord Zu won't be particularly pleased if he finds out you've let Muler go hungry before such an important test. That could cost you your head.”
Mon stiffened. His eyes widened beneath his hood. His fear of Zu ran so deep that he didn't even stop to think. Before Beat had even finished speaking, Mon's figure transformed into a dark blur and shot out of the hall with a dull burst of compressed air.
Beat turned his gaze towards the woman in the middle of the light. Her marble-like face was tense, her teeth clenched. She stared at him with eyes that no longer seemed to have pupils, only a deep, milky sheen.
“I think he'll be back soon,” Beat said to her in a calm, casual tone. “Don't worry.”
In the distance, deep within the long corridors outside the hall, heavy, muffled explosions suddenly rang out. The sound of doors being smashed from their hinges rapidly approached.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Mon flashed back into the hall, breathing heavily, steam seemingly rising from his clothes. He carried an enormous silver platter in his hands, piled high with two golden-brown roasted suckling pigs, thick, dripping slices of pork belly, and steamed vegetables.
“Zico… look at me,” Mon said hurriedly, slamming the platter onto an iron worktable with a loud clang. “You got food from Mon. Remember that. Mon.”
Mon quickly turned around, ready to sprint away again, but Beat's figure blurred.
In a fraction of a second, Beat stood directly in front of him, his broad chest mere millimeters from Mon's face.
Mon collided with him as though he had run straight into a granite wall.
“Mon… I certainly won't forget this,” Beat said in a low, icy voice that seemed to vibrate through the stone hall. “If you take the shackles off.”
Back in the university basement, Nicola shot upright with a start.
“WHAT?!” he roared through the channel, his voice nearly cracking.
Mon stared at Beat. His entire body trembled with adrenaline and paralyzing fear of Lord Zu.
“Are you sure about this?!”
“Absolutely,” Beat replied without even blinking.
He slowly extended his arm and began pointing randomly at the horrors lining the walls.
“Because I want to try that device. And that one. And that hydraulic press over there.”
Mon didn't hesitate any longer. The prospect of torture convinced him. He rushed towards the chained woman.
CLICK. CLICK.
The heavy, icy locks snapped open. The thick chains crashed onto the stone floor with a dull, thunderous clatter.
Mon gave Beat a quick, deep bow before speeding away at full force, disappearing through the hole in the wall he himself had smashed upon entering.
The marble woman slowly rose from the floor, leaving the loosened shackles behind.
A heavy silence settled over the enormous hall.