Jack and his father chose to stop at the farmhouse. It was a quiet night here today, with only slight wind caressing their skin that brought back some sorrowful memories. Abraham wanted to do the interrogation here because, this time, their roles had changed.

A chill ran down Rat’s spine as he imagined the fate of his gangmate and, soon, the fate of his own.

“I will question him,” Abraham suggested. “You stay here and keep an eye out for me, can you?”

Jack nodded, understanding that his father either didn’t want to get his son’s hand dirty or didn’t want him to witness what he was about to do.

“You fool,” Rat called out, his body and hair still muddily drenched, not much different than the sewer rodent he was named after, “you won’t get away with this.”

Jack walked to him, holding an empty vial before his eyes.

“Now, thanks for being so concerned about us. But, you have to understand that you should worry about yourself first. If you don’t drink this soon, with only a snap of my finger, you will suffer as if you have never known suffering in your life. My neck is still hurting trying to move here.”

Jack rubbed the place where he had been grabbed, intentionally revealing Felice's inventory bracelet. Rat saw it and attempted to say something, but his fear got the better of him. The bandit yielded, letting Abraham drag him into the house without any more resistance.

 

In that same dark, cold, dirty basement, Abraham tossed the thug right at the cell, bending the metal bars in the process. Rat fell to the ground, grunting and groaning, choking in pain.

The Harper man came close and put his foot on the bandit’s hand. He put some weight on his leg, and the thug screeched like a frightened animal.

“St…o…p,” he mumbled. “Let’s talk, okay? You wouldn’t want any more trouble from our boss or someone else, right?”

Abraham’s downward gaze was emotionless; the screaming didn’t bother him from keep pushing down on his leg at all. As much as Rat was in pain, every time the thought of an aggressive reaction popped up in his mind, an unnerving discomfort crept through his body. Finally, he accepted his hand’s fate, knowing the man in front of him would never let go of it.

A splash came, followed by a broken sound, and a hand was severed. Rat held his wrist with the other hand, screaming in panic, trying to hold back the bleeding all the while the poison stirred up inside of him. Only now did Abraham lift his foot, leaving behind a crack hole on the floor. He took out something from his ring and tossed it in front of the miserable bandit.

“Felice!” Rat was startled.

“He’s the only one left with a head still intact, you know,” Abraham nonchalantly said.

Staring at the half-burnt face of his crewmate, Rat trembled even harder, mumblingly cursing everything he thought had led him to this moment.

“Now,” Abraham squatted down by the bandit, “you only have one choice left, and I don’t think you are so much of a fool to not realize what it is.”

“I don’t….”

Smack.

The slap tilted Rat’s face, making him spit out blood mixed with pieces of shattered teeth. His head was in shamble, barely keeping itself together.

“You are only allowed to say yes!” Abraham commanded.

The bandit somehow heard that through his dazed perception and nodded rapidly.

“Good,” Abraham said. “I know you were planning to die under my hand anyway since it was either that or smashed to pieces by your boss. Not to mention he must also have had all of his little minions’ hands tight too. You don’t have to worry about any of that now. Help me, and you might find yourself still alive tomorrow, got that?”

“Yes. I got it,” Rat mumblingly answered, obediently so.

“Very well,” Abraham clapped his hand. “Then, shall we play a little game?”

A chill ran down the bandit’s spine as he was about to reactively shake his head, but seeing the endless void inside the eyes of the man in front of him, he thought better of it and nodded while gritting his teeth.

One less slap, at least, Rat figured.

 

Abraham returned to the ground at dawn and saw Jack meditating on the grassy field; so slim, so skinny, so haggard, the body his son was. Keeping the emotions inside, the head of the Harper household walked toward the boy and sat next to him.

“How was it, father?” Jack went straight into business, not letting his father say it first.

Abraham froze for a moment. His face was a bit unnatural, but he sat still and cleared his throat.

‘It’s not just about you anymore. The Harper is a target too.”

“So they are trying to slowly cut off the lifeline before going for the root at the capital?”

“True. The other powers are blocking off the flow of crucial resources and wealth to the Corvus. As the Nightblade said last night, the Harper is just one of many.”

Jack silently stared at the space in front of him, thinking about how this would affect all of his future plans. Surviving was one thing, but if all the routes toward thriving were to be blocked, the goal he wanted to achieve here would be farther away than ever.

“So,” Jack asked after his quiet moment, “which one is going for us? Lehner, Quintana, or the Emperor himself?”

Abraham burst out laughing, seeing the ever-present exciting spirit of his son.

“The scum didn’t know that well.”

“But you could link it together, knowing who had hired the bandits, couldn’t you?”

“You’re right about that,” Abraham nodded, “but my answer is none of the three Divine powers you have just mentioned.”

Jack waited a moment for his father to sort out the information and words, for the thing he was about to say was obviously serious enough to make the already wary man much more troubling, even though they both knew what kind of mess they were being dragged into.

“The bandit wanted to get rid of us, as you can tell,” Abraham started explaining. “Kill us, or capture us long enough to be handed to the one behind them. But, thankfully for us, they got greedy, wanting to get some more for themself, so they played it doubled-face, threatening to abandon the job or to turn their coat toward the Corvus. They were too ignorant to know what kind of power they were messing with. So, think about it, who would be so cruel to scheme for our destruction like that? And yet, with the power in their hands, they were still hasty and reckless enough for mistakes to happen, for the bandit to betray, for us to escape? Had they been prudent, you and I wouldn’t be sitting here anymore.”

“One thing that I don’t get,” Jack said, “the Hensley already had their backing in the Lehner. Sooner or later, we will be crushed; why waste more resources trying to fasten it?”

“Correct. That’s because all of this was a message, something along the line of ‘we’re ready to face Flavius Corvus’ from a Legend power, one that is right there with the Divine, at least that’s what I assume.” Abraham shook his head in dismay.

Jack didn’t know what to say. He could only blame fate and himself for being dropped in an even worse situation than the last time, from Earth to World No.146.

“The one who hired the bandit was the Barril,” Abraham continued. “Juancho Barril was also a member of Mocester Merchant Guild. You know where this is heading. Still, the way the guild is treating us couldn’t be the work of Juancho alone. After all, he is but a minor member. I can’t be completely certain, but it seems he was trying to impress the Allison, the one behind all of this.”

“Allison?” Jack opened his eyes wide. “The Allison with Charlotte Allison?”

“How do you know that?” Abraham turned his body toward Jack in surprise.

“Just some rumor floating around,” Jack dismissed it, waving his hand.

Jack scratched his head in contemplation. He had expected that if they were ever to face each other, it would be a friendly exchange between two returners, all in goodwill. But now, things were getting more complicated and tense.

“The Barril try to impress the Allison, then are the Allison also trying to please the Lehner? Jack asked.”

“Maybe not the Lehner alone,” Abraham said with a voice that Jack found with more certainty than doubt. “The Allison used to have a Divine, but he perished during the war between empires hundreds of years ago. Nowadays, they only have Legends who are trying to maintain the influence and legacy of their name. Still, they are always right on the brink of breaking into Divine territory, which means they might just produce a new god for themself. Then comes Charlotte, someone with as much Divine potential as it gets, and the Allison swiftly push the wheel forward to ensure a guarded future with the agreement of other powers.”

“And the condition for that is to take down the Corvus.” Jack continued his father’s words, realizing where all of this was going.

“Exactly that. Dessotor always has the three pillars that support the throne. If you want to be a part of it, you remove someone else. For now, though, we know the Lehner had shaken their hand with the Allison when they sent a Nightblade to clean the mess that we made.”

Jack frowned, seeing how his father was too single-minded to think of other possibilities.

“The Corvus won’t stand for this, right?” Jack asked in disbelief. “My grandfather is a Grand Divine, an existence that is said to outmatch the other three powers.”

“While I was at Mocester, I managed to get my hand on some news,” Abraham said, rubbing his finger so hard that the skin was scraped out. “I wanted to think of those as just rumors, but from everything we’ve been through, I can’t deny that it is true what they said.”

“Father,” Jack put his hand on Abraham's shoulder, “what is it?”

“Your grandfather, Flavius Corvus, is dying.”