Another mundane night befell the City Defenders. They stood guard like statues, donning their imposing and offensive symbol of a middle finger on their backs. It was worn with pride, and it was faced purposely towards the outskirt Sectors as they stood above the high walls defending the inner Sectors.

Though their weapons were ununiformed, and their builds varied so widely that no two City Defender was the same, they were highly disciplined individuals, motivated by the warmth of their home which was the Golden Index.

City Defenders were of the Soldier rank in the Golden Index’s hierarchy, having little sway over concerns, but enough freedom to enjoy the lesser things in life. Unlike those in the equivalent role in other Ateliers, they were provided with a work schedule coupled with mandated breaks.

Basically, there were two teams. Week One, and Week Two; called Red and Black Suits. One could tell them apart by the shade of red they wore, and the ring found on their middle fingers. The ruby rings were cut into four different suits – Heart and Diamond, which were a bright red; and Spades and Clubs, which were a far duller shade of red.

They were then split into night and day shifts, giving the City of Spades 24 hours of surveillance. Carpalis could have easily exploited them, for she possessed a piece of their soul. Holding it over their heads would have been the first choice of persuasion by other Ateliers.

However, Carpalis was generous.

And it was precisely why betrayal was so common within the Golden Index.

Frost was glad that nothing happened to her Faustian Bargain. It was damaged, perhaps even beyond repair, but it was not destroyed. The proof was all around her. Were it destroyed then the entire Golden Index would have collapsed in that exact moment.

They walked up the long staircase leading towards the golden gates of the D-J Sector from D9.

Soldiers watched them with careful eyes. Unlike the untrained masses, they were aware that the most suspicious people were those in common wear rather than armor. None seemed to recognize the position she held, neither did she wish to flaunt herself as the Amalgam unnecessarily.

Instead, she reached into her Dimensional Storage and pulled out her Guild Card which was proof of her alternate title; the Black Dove. She held it close between her fingers, flashing it to necessary personnel as they finally reached the front gates where they were hailed by two sturdy-looking men.

“Halt. You’re a Color, aren’t you?”

“Yes. The Guild Card should be enough proof.” Frost politely greeted the young men as they stared intently at the Guild Card, then at her.

A look of perplexing dawned on their faces, their eyes staring at something over her shoulder.

“Hold on just a second… You’re that Black Dove?” One said, glancing over at his partner who also seemed confused.

At first Frost thought it was because of her casual appearance and unthreatening body type. But then she remembered that the most dangerous type of people were always the smaller ones. It was always easier to choreograph or predict the swing of a bigger opponent.

But from a child? Good luck. If anything, their smaller stature made for their swings to connect just as rapidly. Frost’s mind derailed for a moment as she tried to picture a child-like opponent thrashing against her.

“I thought she had wings?” One of them wondered, confusing her with Ber.

“Shhh. Don’t think out loud. A Color can strip your tongue off before you can blink. You may pass through. But I haven’t seen the Guild Cards of those two.” The tallest man pointed his chin Jury and Nav, prompting Jury to flash hers, causing the man’s eyes to bulge. “A-Another Unbound Ranked? So this is ‘Jury’.”

“Is she well known here?” Frost asked humorously.

“Amongst the children she is. They’re the same people your party saved after all. The Black Dove and Jury… Those are names in the list of exemptions.” He said, pulling out a small pocket-sized booklet holding all VIP names, set from most important to least important.

It was an item distributed by the Golden Thumb to all relevant subsidiaries. It helped personnel identify people in the field, which was highly valued more than ever now that communications were severed.

Magical properties radiated from the booklet. Text and inscriptions appeared invisible to normal people, hinting at the use of CogitO’s technology.

Or so she thought. Illusion magic was woven between the words and imprinted into the paper itself, hiding the ink from plain sight. It was a form of racial magic, albeit quite rare and barely saw use in larger scales due to its absurd mana consumption.

Not only that, but CogitO’s tech superseded it. It worked best with the Succubae who inherently knew this magic, using it like it was another limb. Another reason why it was rarely seen in use outside of their shape-shifting illusions was because Racial Magic was notoriously difficult to apply externally, unlike Traditional Magic.

Furthermore, it was not exactly secure. The names of the exempted VIP individuals written in the booklet were powerful individuals who could afford to have their identities known. Perceptive individuals could bypass the illusion with ease.

For people like them? It may as well not have existed.

“CogitO’s technology is not integrated in those books?” Nav suddenly questioned, drawing eyes to her as they nearly forgot she was there in the first place.

“You tell me.” The man shrugged, hoisting his long baton over his shoulder with a sigh. “Having it Indexed would be easier. All we’d need then is someone to sit on their ass and throw information around using one of those ear studs of theirs. They tell us to leave the book how it is. You’d get pissed too if people could find your name and description just like that, hey?”

“It’s too late to worry about that now.” Frost sighed, but she agreed with him. “Are we able to pass through now?”

“You two can, but this one needs to stay.” He motioned to Nav. “I ain’t ever seen someone like her before. Light blue hair and golden eyes? Weird comb –”

Whatever disease that caused him to spew something so dangerous before her was cleansed in an instant. An overwhelming sense weighed down on them, their bodies frozen as though invisible chains ensnared their fragile bodies.

Frost’s Scrutiny wrung them like they were dirty rags, her eyes piercing through their souls as sweat dripped from every pore imaginable. They had forgotten that the person before them was more than capable of killing them a hundred times over. To even consider slighting a companion of theirs was a trait that she was tempted to uproot right where she stood.

“Is there something wrong with my friend?” She calmly asked, her voice so serene that it was uncanny, for they knew they had struck a nerve that should have been left untouched.

Not only that, but Frost did not want Nav’s name to be put anywhere near that damned booklet of theirs. Jury shared the same sentiments as her, but nowhere near as demeaning. Frost stared up at the man with eyes that saw him as nothing more than a pebble on the side of the road, and the man believed it for those eyes devoured him.

“If I were you, then I’d be choosing my words carefully next time.” Frost then raised a hand and dusted the man’s shoulder with a light tap, just as someone else rushed towards them. “It’d be a shame if these were your last. I don’t know what possessed you to even try that in front of a Color, but you’d think that someone like you would know better.”

Frost spoke scathingly, her words like the lashes of a barbed whip as she smiled at the approaching figure, recognizing them as one of Broker’s men that helped them in the Derma Layer. Her personality shifted so quickly that it felt like her anger was just a figment of their imagination. The weight of her scrutiny was lifted as though it never existed.

She waved happily at the person in question, who turned out to be a supervisor. Many of the personnel that returned from the Derma Layer were granted higher roles for their fearlessness in a place where even Beholders would struggle. And Frost couldn’t be happier when they dismissed the concerns of allowing Nav into the Golden Index, for they knew exactly who Frost was beyond just the Black Dove.

“Your feathered coat would have given you the clearance you wanted. I apologize for the hold up.” The person, who wore a vibrant red ring and the Cognition Transmitter studs sincerely spoke.