In the cold, obsidian-walled office of the Spectre Division, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment and the residual ozone of Freddy Orenstein’s lingering mana. Rayn held the dossier in his hand, the paper feeling unnaturally heavy. Beside him, Vespera stood like a statue of marble and gold, her gaze fixed forward, yet her senses—now heightened by the awakening of The Mirror

  Rayn did not immediately look at the documents. Instead, his crimson eyes flickered toward Freddy, the man who sat behind the desk like a puppeteer of the city’s shadows.

  "Chief," Rayn began, his voice smooth and carrying a deceptive layer of youthful curiosity, "before we set foot into this abyss, I must know more. Elara Vance... a woman of her standing, especially one formerly associated with the Spectres, does not simply vanish into madness. Where is her family? Why was there no one to intervene before her soul turned into a rotting parasite?"

  Freddy leaned back, his leather chair creaking like a funeral carriage. "The details you seek are a tangled web of blood and ambition, Rayn. But I am a man of efficiency. Your team leader, Veora, has already spent forty-eight hours dissecting the Vance genealogy. She will be your compass and your shield until the stench of this ghoul is purged from Ashbury."

  He tapped a bell on his desk. The chime was sharp, cutting through the silence of the room. "Veora! Enter!"

  Less than twenty seconds passed before the heavy door was pushed open. Veora

  "You called, Chief?" she asked, her eyes grazing over Rayn and Vespera with a flicker of annoyance.

  "The Vance case," Freddy said, sliding a duplicate file toward her. "Rayn and Vespera will be joining you. They are your subordinates for this operation. Train them. If they survive, it will be a testament to your leadership. If they die, ensure their remains are returned for a proper burial."

  Veora’s brow furrowed, her rapier clinking against her thigh as she shifted her weight. "Chief... with all due respect, Elara Vance is a Grade-3 spiritual anomaly. I could cleanse that manor in thirty minutes on my own. Bringing... ... is like dragging weights through a swamp."

  Freddy’s gaze turned cold, a silent warning that made even the proud Veora stiffen. "They are new, but they are Spectres. Every tiger was once a cub that needed to see blood. This 'easy' case is their baptism. Do not argue with me again."

  Veora bowed her head, though her jaw remained tight. "Understood, Chief."

  As the trio exited the office and began walking through the long, echoing corridors of the Spectre headquarters, the atmosphere turned glacial. Veora strode ahead, her boots clicking sharply on the stone.

  "Senior," Rayn said, his voice trailing her like a shadow. "Since we are now under your command, perhaps you could enlighten us. What is the true nature of Elara Vance?"

  Veora stopped abruptly and turned, her eyes narrowed. "Listen well, for I will not repeat myself. Elara Vance is a ghost of our past. She is between fifty-five and sixty years old, yet when she was last seen, she possessed the face and body of a woman in her prime—barely twenty-five. She was a member of this very division, a Senior even to my own mother, Novara."

  Inside Rayn’s mind, the Duplicate Will of Yao Wang Ming

  Rayn replied in the silence of his mind,

  Yao Wang Ming explained.

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  As Yao Wang Ming spoke, Veora continued her explanation aloud, unaware that a Sovereign’s ghost was critiquing her report.

  "She was kicked out of the Spectres because her methods became... unsavory," Veora said, her voice dropping an octave. "She used her own blood for divination, and the blood of others for power. After she left, the tragedies began. Her husband died mysteriously within two years. A year later, her daughter—a girl of only ten—withered away from a 'heavy sickness.' There was no evidence to link Elara to the deaths, but we all knew. She traded her kin for her reflection in the mirror."

  Rayn’s heart hardened. "And she died alone?"

  "She did," Veora replied. "Until the 'inappropriate sounds' started. Neighbors reported screaming, then laughter, then a silence that smelled like rotting meat. Now, we go to see what remains of the woman who thought she could cheat time."

  They arrived at the Vance estate as the sun began to dip behind the soot-stained horizon of the city. The house was a two-story structure of grey stone and dark wood, overgrown with a peculiar, pale-green alchemical mold that seemed to throb like a pulse. It stood in a cul-de-sac where the air felt five degrees colder than the rest of the street.

  "Which room?" Vespera asked, her golden eyes scanning the windows.

  "The top floor," Veora said, pointing a gloved finger. "The tenant on the bottom floor fled the moment the first constable died. The building is abandoned... or so the world thinks."

  They began to climb the external wooden staircase. The wood groaned under their weight, sounding like the bones of an old man. Suddenly, as Rayn placed his foot on the third step, the timber disintegrated.

  "Careful!" Veora snapped, grabbing Rayn’s arm and pulling him upward. "This place is held together by rot and spite. Watch your step, 'Void Scourge,' or you’ll be the first meal of the night."

  Rayn nodded, offering a sheepish look of gratitude, but his eyes were calculating the distance. They continued to climb. Step by step, the journey felt unnaturally long. Rayn’s internal clock, honed by years of combat, told him that they should have reached the landing in thirty seconds. Instead, five minutes passed. The stairs seemed to stretch, the wood warping and lengthening as they moved.

  "Senior Veora," Rayn said, stopping for a moment. "I am no expert, but we have been climbing for five minutes to reach a height of twenty feet. What kind of sorcery is this?"

  Veora wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. "So you noticed. Elara was a master of spatial displacement. Before she died, she wove her mana into the very foundations of this house. Her soul now rules this space like a miniature kingdom. Every inch we travel is a battle against her will. Do not succumb to the hallucinations. If you believe the distance is infinite, you will walk until you starve."

  Inside Rayn, Yao Wang Ming laughed.

  They reached the top landing, and Veora didn't bother with a key. She drew her rapier, and with a single, lightning-fast strike imbued with wind mana, she shattered the door into splinters.

  They stepped inside, and the door behind them instantly slammed shut, the wood knitting itself back together as if it had never been broken.

  "A hallucination," Rayn whispered, touching the now-solid door.

  "Or a trap," Vespera added, her hand resting on the hidden dagger at her waist.

  The room before them was not a bedroom or a parlor. It was a long, narrow, vaulted stone hall that felt as though it belonged in an ancient catacomb rather than a Victorian manor. The walls were rough-hewn stone, illuminated by brass lanterns that flickered with a sickly, pale-green flame.

  The floor was made of wide-plank wood, aged and uneven, stained with dark patches that Rayn knew were not wine. On the right wall, a massive, complex runic diagram pulsed with emerald light. Beside it sat an intricately carved wooden desk, covered in scrolls and a leather-bound tome that seemed to breathe.

  "The ritual site," Veora whispered, her sword leveled at the center of the hall.

  A thick, light-green mist filled the corridor, swirling with a life of its own. Within the mist, Rayn saw them—disembodied, clawed hands and half-formed spectral torsos emerging from the shadows. They were the 'Black Thread' victims, the souls Elara had consumed to maintain her youth, now bound to her as a ghostly vanguard.

  "What do we do here, Senior?" Rayn asked, his crimson eyes scanning the runes.

  He could see the flaws in the runic diagram. It was a masterpiece of desperation, a jagged, broken circuit that was leaking soul essence. To Veora, it was a terrifying mystery. To Rayn, it was a buffet.

  His Void Scourgeextract

  "Stay behind me," Veora commanded, her mana flaring. "I will clear the path to the inner sanctum. If those hands touch you, they will drain your years in seconds."

  Rayn looked at Vespera and gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

  Yao Wang Ming whispered.

  Rayn stepped back into the shadows, his face a mask of feigned fear, while his soul prepared to devour the very foundations of the manor. The first case had truly begun, and Elara Vance was about to find out that death was not the end of her problems—Rayn was.