The world is a spectacle to behold. Its a marvel unlike any other.

There are two separate worlds that exist parallel to one another but with no ease of access for either.

One is the human world. Modas.

The other is the world of Night Spawn. Absodahl.

Around these worlds, is the vast and ethereal Spirit World, which carries a great number of mythical beings, grand artefacts and abundant resources. It remains as a constant around these two worlds.

The entirety of existence can be compared to a Venn diagram. 

However, all this, is the extent of knowledge of how these worlds appear from the Sorcerer's Record's.

Sadly, that is the oldest record there is of how the world is. Or was. 

This was how our entire existence was supposed to be. 

Numerous eons ago, a great being, the Night King Ozaemon from the lowest layer of Absodahl, forged a terrifying treasure. 

A Great Battle Axe, said to wield enough power to break the boundary of space between Modas and Absodahl and shake even the vast Spirit World. The boundary was broken by one powerful slash of the grand weapon that oozed of authority and hell flame.

In his attempt to cross over to Modas, he got stuck in-between, bound by the Spirit World that encased both worlds.

In a last ditch attempt to free himself, Ozaemon used the full power of the Great Axe, shattering a portion of the Spirit World and creating a grand rift that split Modas into 6 worlds, different in almost all respects. The rift he tore from Absodahl healed but a small gap remained. 

Ozaemon was never seen again.

Essence from the Spirit World leaked into the 6 Modas worlds before it could heal itself, creating a change in the world that caused it to veer from the course it was meant to flow in.

As the years passed, humans from all the Modas worlds awakened to strange, peculiar and wonderful affinities as well as abilities.

The first to appear were humans born with singular, unnatural and powerful abilities. They were called The Gifted.

The next to appear where those born with the ability manipulate the force of the Spirit World that had melded with Modas. The Sorcerers.

The last, were a group even more unnatural than the first two. Those who were able to unconsciously connect themselves to Absodahl. The Deviants.

Years went by and associations were set up in order to teach those who awakened how to control their gifts. However, a very few number among the general populace awakened at given times.

A grand ceremony was held to decide how to move forward by the Gifted and the Sorcerers without including the Deviants who were called abominations due to their affinity with dark powers. The universally agreed upon decision was to keep the existence of Sorcerers and Deviants from the general public to ensure safety and order, but to publicise the Gifted as they were easier to understand for the masses.

This decision was conformed to as the years passed and the Deviants were forced to bury their rage of being ostracised as they couldn't win against the two factions combined.

Now, it is the 21st century. Gifted are welcomed by the masses. There are those that play hero and those that play villain. The world is like a fantasy.

 However, what the average citizen sees is not by any chance the fullest of that the world is, which is now called Eriss. One of the 6 Modas worlds. 

There are 5 continents: the Confederation of Africa; Canadia, a gigantic continent to the West; Northland to the north; New Asia to the East and Nara to the South East.

The world is akin to a realm. It is flat and one cannot leave simply by going up.

Undercurrents are rising, and in this age, a great many events are bound to rock our world.

***

Dennis led me out of the yellow room. I wore an annoyed face. I was really not vibing with current circumstances I was in.

The Hidden Hands was an underground organisation that took in those who consented to live by robbing and smuggling treasures from all around the world. It was also a intelligence bank, where information about almost anything could be bought. Those who issued assignments to the Hidden Hands were called contractors. If you managed to complete a mission or two for a contractor, they could pin you, so that it would be easier to find you for other assignments.

Among the members, there were veterans. Those who had been in the business for a long time, building connections strong enough for them to become renown and to be given higher positions in the organisation.

There were newbies, who were still being taught the ropes under their guides. They had to be monitored and checked for potential and efficiency.

Then there were people like me, who were neither renown nor newbies, but somewhere in between.

Lacking the right push to pull off an awesome assignment that would give us the spotlight. We were the most unattractive to contract.

As it was right now, I would be booted from the organisation or as Dennis said, flushed if I didn't manage to rack up some credit by completing assignments. That meant having your brain washed of all memories. All of them. This was done in order to prevent possible recollections that were triggered by other memories from the past.

Everyone in the organisation was either an ordinary human, a Gifted or a Sorcerer. However, Sorcerers were very rare. At least in the Underworld.

A vast organisation of Sorcerers was established many years ago, the Mobius of Arcana took in most Sorcerers. Due to this, most would join it in order to earn benefits. 

They were recognised by other World Organisations and respected. 

They were not the only ones, though. There were other groups of rogue Sorcerers with other intentions, such as the most infamous one, lead by Grand Sorcerer Samuel.

The Order of Somacht. 

It appeared 70 years ago, but till now it's motivations and members were barely known, except for Samuel who once made a public announcement, claiming that he would claim the lives of all those heathens that cuddled under the wing of the Mobius of Arcana.

And it came to pass.

Hundreds of Sorcerers lost their lives in the last 7 decades.

Since then, Sorcerers have started to become more prominent in the underground.

As we walked through the many, well lit, narrow corridors of the Hidden Hands, I was pondering what this new assignment could be. 

"David. What would you do if you left the Hidden Hands?" Dennis asked with a serious expression while we walked.

I wanted to tell him that it was hard to take him seriously with that absurd blue hair of his, but in the end I sighed and answered.

"As you probably deduced from earlier, I don't have anything outside this. I used to, but not anymore."

"Don't you have bigger ambitions?" he asked.

"How big can I get, Dennis? I wasn't born with much of an option for choice. I was kept hidden until my uncle died. I never had a family. Its hard to squeeze out ambition when there was never hope and happiness at the start. I accepted the fact that I'm a thief. I live with it. It pays my bills. I had forgotten that when I found love, but even that couldn't change who I really am."

"And here you were bursting as if you were going to just leave."

"You must be happy to hear me say it. I still meant what I said. I don't condone the fact that people who die at the hands of the organisation. I'm a thief not a murderer."

"A thief with a moral code. Heh. At least you're maturing. Since you lack ambition, I'll pitch a good word for you with the higher ups if you successfully complete this assignment."

"I'd like to be happy about that, but this is more of a self promotion than it is kindness, right?" 

"Of course. We may take in those who in need of jobs for money, but that doesn't mean we don't want to make a profit. It's still a transaction at the end of the day."

"I suddenly feel better about myself," I said.

We reached a door. Dennis pushed it open to reveal a dark room that was well lit. It was the same shape as the yellow room we had been in before. 

There were three types of coloured rooms in the organisation. Yellow, Black and White.

Yellow was reserved for low level members' activities like briefing and equipping.

Black was for meetings with contractors.

White was for executive meetings and honoured guests of the HH.

Inside the room was a simple table and two chairs at the centre. On the other end of the table sat a fat man donning a black shawl lapel suit that accentuated his round figure. He had a full head of white hair, large round topaz blue eyes and a mutton chop beard.

Beside him was a tall, gorgeous Latino girl. She had long havana brown hair tied into a ponytail.

On her face were satin grey almond eyes, a straight nose and red full lips. Her skin gleamed under the light, looking flawless with its sandy hue. 

She wore a tight fitting suit that gave her a formal vibe. She stood by the man's side and maintained her cold and emotionless stance.

"Mr Bravino, welcome," Dennis was the first to speak, offering a casual smile and handshake which was gladly received by the other man.

"It's good to see you, Dennis. I was already beginning to wonder if I would ever find a member of your organisation to take up my assignment," the man said.

"No need to be anxious. Our members can be cautious, as it is part of the trade to choose your steps very carefully. Forgive us for the delay."

"No harm, no foul. I'm only interested in the results." Mr Bravino shifted his gaze to me and smiled.

I felt like a prostitute. All this was a roundabout way of saying, 'Sorry. This damn fool is so incompetent. I literally had to drag him here to acquiesce to your request. Please use him as you see fit.'

Well I refused to take it lying down.

Contractors never usually met with the members of the organisation. It wasn't prohibited, but there was usually no need. Unless of course the issue needed painfully clear instructions, which meant one thing.

It was a pretty damn complicated and difficult assignment.

"Excuse, Mr Bravino. If I may ask. Why have you suddenly decided to offer me an assignment after such a long time?" I asked in a serious tone.

"Oho. Good question. Its a simple matter actually. I checked your records and discovered that you're one of people who've been to a Pseudo hell and lived to tell the tale," the fat man smiled in an unnerving way.

Pseudo hells were pocket realms that were around Absodahl, the realm of Night Spawn. There were like a prelude to the real thing, but quite dangerous nevertheless. I had been to one, while on an assignment. I survived but didn't manage to complete the assignment.

"Yes I have. So I assume that I'm being chosen because out of all the those that carry the same record, I'm the most desperate?" I asked while narrowing my eyes.

I sensed Dennis' intense gaze, but I couldn't care less. The other lady also glared at me, and I felt a chilling sensation try to suppress me.

Piss off! I'm not scared of you! She must think I'm a push over who can be silenced with a glimmer of her Gift Release. Dream on.

I want my answer.

The fat man didn't even show a flustered expression, he just narrowed his eyes and maintained his smile.

"Indeed. You're in dire straits because of your lack of merit and credibility. No one has been contracting you for a long time. You need this," he answered.

"I see. What's the assignment?" I asked.

"There's something I want retrieved from a Pseudo Hell."

"I'm good. I survived once, but that doesn't mean I'm invincible. I prefer my ass vivacious and lively thank you. Sorry for wasting your time." I stood up to leave under the dumbfounded gaze of Dennis.

An unflustered voice called from behind me.

"I'm willing to pay 90 million Canadian pounds."

I stopped in my tracks. Did I just hear right?

The Canadian pound was the world's most valuable currency. Having someone offer such a grand amount was scary. With this money, I could.... I could do anything I want... I could eat all the food I want... Enjoy my long life.... I could even build that cabin by the sunset for..... Oh right. I almost forgot. 

That aside, if I completed a mission like this, my credibility would be raised. I wouldn't have to worry anymore.

This was nice and all but I needed details. I turned around and faced the fat man whose gaze felt like everything was in the palm of his hand.

"I need the specifics," I said.

"Should you choose to go, Cassandra will be going with you."

Shit! 

I glared at her, and she coldly glared at me with those emotionless eyes. 

"Alright. But you do know that I draw all evil beings because of my mark, right? And we're going to a place were such beings spawn?" I said.

"Of course I'm aware. Your job is to ensure Cassandra's safe arrival to the destination of the target. From there we'll need that specific ability of yours to act as bait, while she retrieves the target. Until then, you'll use this," the man said and signalled for Cassandra to produce a vial of blue liquid.

The vial was crystal like with a black stopper. 

"This is essence of phantasm. It masks your existence and can, to limited degree, cancel out your ability to draw creatures towards you. It has a limit and its hard to procure."

Hmmm. By the looks of it, my ability is quite convenient for the mission. 

I felt Dennis nudge me with his leg, but I ignored it. I need to figure it if there's anything I'm missing out.

The only problem I have is going with this bi***. I've only been in her presence for a few minutes and I'm already having the urge to cut her head off. 

The other thing is, because I have to go with her, it makes my mission smoother. Which frustrates me to no end. I can also feel that she's pretty strong. I don't want a damsel in distress while I'm dancing with demons.

Screw it. Let's do this!

"Fine. What is the assignment target?" I asked.

"It's more of a who. Its a dangerous ex-convict who fled to a Pseudo hell," the man answered.

"Fled? As in ran away into a hell?"

"Yes. There's something I need him for."

"Who the heck is that guy?" 

"He has caused a lot of ruckus in the past. It was annoying at first, unsettling next and then dangerous. He has an infamous reputation. Some called him, a Night Spawn. Others said he was the Supreme Deviant. However, the most prominent name he is known by is..... the Devil."