Upon waking up in the Ryhard’s Residence, there was no trace of Elias.
His parents truly believed he was visiting Gillikard as a part of a club event, but Drew knew otherwise and kept his lips sealed. There was no way he would rat out Elias to his own parents, being the good friend he was, also cause saying so would expose him too.
Drew pulled his blue messenger hat over his lightly combed green hair and left for his activities for the day. As he made his way to the AirTrain Station, he caught a glimpse of the crimson-haired princess who was also going in that same direction.
“Princess!” Drew called out to Sylvia, making her way down the flight of stairs.
Hearing Avian’s familiar voice, the Ifrit turned around and beamed, her black hair ribbons following her movements. A smile crept on her face as she saw the green-haired Avian greet her, waving his hand as he came down to where she was.
“Good morning, Drew!”
“Long day ahead of you?”
Sylvia groaned, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“Ugh, don’t get me started! What about you?”
The Nightengale laughed and then shrugged.
“Eh, the usual. Just another day of working with Snow.”
“He sure is keeping you preoccupied. By the way, I saw on the news today that he released his 95% success rate regiment. It’s impressive that he’s managing to put pressure on the Heartman who just forced out his 97% regiment.”
“Astounding isn’t it? Not sure how he's hitting every one of his buttons.”
“Really?” Sylvia tilted her head. “I would think, as his Assistant, you would have some insight.”
The Avian scoffed, placing a hand behind his neck.
“Snow doesn’t exactly talk about his personal life. I know just about as much as the public does.”
“Such a shame. And here I thought I’d be getting some exclusive Tabloid-worthy gossip.”
“What does the public even want to know?" Drew rolled his eyes. "What Snow ate for breakfast?”
“Perhaps. Tabloids will eat up just about anything and everything.” The Princess laughed. “By the way, didn't Elias leave for Gillikard today?”
The Avian nodded.
“Yeah, he departed before I woke up. He’ll be back here in a week or so.”
Sylvia whined, “Lucky, I really want to go back there one of these days.”
“Jelly, aren’t you.”
“Would be lying if I said no.”
“Anyhow, what’s on the agenda?”
“Market research! I’m trying to learn more about what aluminum can be used for. Trying to figure out a way to link the economies of both the Slums and Glass Road. Something without high barriers to entry given our current resources.”
Seeing Sylvia working so hard put a smile on Drew’s face. Even though it was much smaller than what he was doing as Snow, the Avian couldn’t help but admire the Ifrit trying to make the best of what she had.
“What about construction materials? Like aluminum supports? I heard there’s a major shortage of them right now on Kraus.”
“Hmm, that could be a good idea.” Sylvia nodded, facing the wall of the AirTrain platform. “But I want to explore other alternatives first. There isn’t much time before the Annual Royals Ball, so I need to do something more impactful.”
“Well, while we’re at it, I can help you brainstorm.” Drew offered to Sylvia, tipping his cap up.
Seeing the Avian so enthusiastic to help her, Sylvia couldn’t turn him down.
“I’d like that very much.”
>>>
Crash.
A porcelain vase was on the ground, broken into a hundred pieces. The Obtainer’s fist rested on the table where the vase was placed, the glazed clay bits crunching underneath his skin.
“Two weeks.” The Obtainer gnashed his teeth. His head throbbed as he said that. “Two weeks and absolutely no progress to the Phantom Rifle. I’ve tried talking to that seemingly oblivious Nightengale, and what do I find? He’s just as clueless as the public!”
“Sir, this isn’t like you at all?” His Attendant interjected. “Have some patience. Building a relationship takes time, and the Avian clearly knows more than he lets on.”
Suddenly, the Obtainer felt his body sway. His vision growing hazy.
“Do you think I have time?!” The Obtainer screeched, his eyes growing cloudier as he sat in the velvet hotel chair close to him and gripped the bracelet on his wrist. The crystal suspended his emitting a light hue.
“Sir-“
Then, the Human gagged and let out a cough. In his hand was a dark-smelling liquid. The Obtainer glanced at the mirror off the other side of the room. Blood, black blood, trickled down the sides of his mouth.
He let out a hysterical laugh as the black blood covered his mouth.
“In the end, I’m not perfect. I’m not perfect enough-“
“What are you talking about?! Sir…Young Master, you are already pushing yourself past your limits.”
“Lorton, you know what he expects from us?!” The Obtainer spat, black blood scatting across the floor. “Nothing short of perfection! We need that Rifle! Not just for my sake but for his! The Rifle is the final element!”
Feeling more desperate than ever, the Obtainer turned to his Attendant, Lorton, and asked, “How long do I have?”
“Given your condition, a little over half a year and a year if we use Cores to offset the Decay.”
The Obtainer knitted his brows together. He needed to get his hands on the Rifle soon. An article scrolled across his wristband in all capital letters. As if by magic, all his fatigue vanished, and his vision grew clear. A twisted smile formed on his face upon finishing the article's title.
“Tail Drew Li for now. I don’t believe that guy is as simple as he appears.”
“Understood. Then, what will you do?”
A pause and the Obtainer got off his chair.
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
>>>
“Hey, Gerald.” Drew began after gulping down a glass of cold water. “How long do I have to keep taking these laxatives? It’s been three weeks, and I don’t think they have an effect on me anymore, and I’ve gone over the dosage that’s supposed to kill me.”
“Well, I suppose it’s time to move on,” Gerald replied jolly, pulling out another jar of these round white pills the size of a small bead. “Arsenic. Two tablets per day for this week and increase by one per week until the bottle is empty. Then we’ll move on to Cyanide.”
“Ugh, again,” Drew whined. “At this rate, I think I can become a poison tester for the King.”
Gerald kept a straight face, sliding Drew a glass of water.
“Fun fact: did you know the King’s poison tester must be able to identify over three hundred types of poisons.”
“That many?!” The Nightengale exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. “I thought it was maybe fifty or something, but three hundred?!”
“Of course. The King faces assassination attempts frequently, so he needs someone to ensure his food is safe. While we’re on the topic, I have something else for you.”
“I don’t like that look in your eyes, Gerald.”
“Hoho, you’ve understood from the manor why you need to kill, but you must be able to do it without hesitation. So I’ve taken the liberty of sending you to one of my connections to help.”
“It’s the Harbingers, am I right?”
“Oh, how did you know?”
“Wasn’t hard to deduce given your history.” Drew rolled his eyes, popping two Arsenic pills in his mouth. “Every major crime lord here seems to fear you. And Neilson appears to be friends with their Founder.”
>>>
The Harbingers.
A well-known association in Ozwarth’s Underworld is known to carry out some of the highest-profile assassinations. Politicians, Royals, and wealthy businessmen have all utilized their services at some point. Like the Crow’s Eye, they are neutral, working for everyone and no one as long as they’re paid enough. It’s even said they have direct connections with the Scorpion Horde, and Drew found this after reading through their file at the Crow’s Eye.
It was new to him that Gerald had a tie to them as much as he expected.
“Ah, well, here’s another surprise.”
“What.”
“The Founder of the Harbingers was another servant of the Winter Family, Neilson’s junior.”
“Okay, not surprising.”
“He was the janitor.”
Drew suddenly choked on his own saliva.
“A janitor?!”
“Ah, yes. A scrawny kid, from my recollection, who was as mediocre as they got. I believe he came by and visited when you were on break, Young Master. He’s currently Mid-B Rank. He always had a knack for surviving in seemingly impossible situations-”
Drew didn’t know what to think anymore. Even reaching B-Rank was difficult enough amongst the majority of Intergalactic Warriors, and for a Winter Family janitor to be at that level, Drew wondered how strong the Main Family members were.
“Is there anyone in the Winter Family that is normal?”
Gerald clapped his hands together.
“-Anyways, he said he would take you and train.”
“Aren’t you afraid he might harm me, considering his treatment during his stay at the Winters?”
“Oh, there are preventative measures.”
“Such as-“
An ominous grin formed on the Former Butler’s face.
Drew sighed.
It was better if he didn’t know.
“I get it. I’ll get my things and leave immediately. Send me all the details.”
“Perfect. Also, may I suggest you leave through the back door? It appears we have some undesirable guests.”
“Thank you, Gerald.” Drew laughed, accepting that this has become his life now. “Please be gracious and serve them well~!”
“As you wish, Young Master.”
>>>
Drew fiddled with a strand of hair from his wig. He takes a look at himself in the reflection of a cracked window. Another identity he’s adopted for himself is to survive.
Black layered hair that went down to his shoulders. Sharp night eyes that had no reflection. Two more fake piercings along both ears and his cuff earring hidden between the locks of the wig. His attire was a loose gray short-sleeved corduroy shirt over a black round collared tee and khaki shorts with countless pockets. A black rectangular bag was strapped across his body, equipped with some throwing knives and other miscellaneous items not worth mentioning.
Owen Noxis.
The name he was taking on for this fourth identity.
His background was that of a student trying to find a quick way to pay off his massive debt left behind by his grandparents. Nothing really unusual to find in Yerburn as one in three inhabitants in the District was probably drowning in some form of debt.
After twisting through some number of alleyways and defending himself against some thugs who were clearly stoned, Drew had arrived at his destination, a pawn shop. Like every other building in the crime-infested District, the pawn shop was just as rundown, with steel bars lining the windows and colorful graffiti scattered across the cracked cement walls. If Drew didn’t know better, he would’ve glossed over the place like anyone else.
Guess the point of a hideout is to make it as inconspicuous as possible. A stark contrast to the Lockes and the Crow's Eye.
Drew shrugged his shoulders and walked into the pawn shop. Inside, he was met with the front desk, where a bald man covered in tattoos from head to toe was giving him a menacing look. His eyes narrowed as he observed Drew’s movements. However, instead of looking at the miscellaneous objects that filled the shop, Drew pursed his lips and turned to the clerk.
“May I help you?” The bald man asked the kid before him. His prosthetic eye scanned the Avian up and down for anything dangerous. Just in case, he placed his hand on the pistol hidden underneath the display case.
“Yeah,” the Avian replied to him confidently. “I’m looking for an Aria JX Series 50. I’ve been told you have one in stock.”
The bald man tilted his head and stared at Drew, drawing circles with his index finger on the glass.
“Those are rare.” The clerk grinned, understanding the person before him wasn’t an ordinary customer. To make sure, he had to follow up. “The last one was produced four hundred years ago. Why are you interested in that antique?”
“The passage of time is fascinating, and so is that of an era.”
It had been confirmed.
He was special.
“Follow me.”
>>>
Rider was leaving Wyn Dojo.
Threads of green life Otrio hovered above his fingertips, almost invisible to the naked eye.
A Puppeteer.
Ever since he was cast out of Bauxite, he’s never used that Ability. As a Medic, it was frustrating that he couldn’t do more with it when it clearly had the capability to save more lives. He clenched his fist, looking at the message across his wristband.
The stigma.
If he wasn’t going to be accepted by regular society to practice with it, then he’d find other places, even if they’re undesirable.
The threads dissipated as Rider glanced to the sky.
The message scrolled across his screen.
Argent.
