Night had descended quietly upon the Virellano residence. The stillness of evening crept in gently, wrapping itself around the estate like a velvet curtain. The garden lamps shimmered faintly, their soft glow tracing a golden path along the winding walkways hidden between towering trees.

A cool breeze drifted through, carrying relief after the long day had been scorched by the relentless heat of the dry-season sun. Yet beneath the calm beauty of the night, there was an underlying silence—a silence that did not simply mean peace, but rather concealed a secret preparation, one that only a single person was aware of.

Upon one of the thick branches of an ancient tree standing tall on the eastern side of the garden, a solitary figure was perched. Al stood there in absolute stillness, his posture unwavering, his presence blending seamlessly with the darkness of night. The black uniform wrapped around his lean frame made him almost invisible, as though he was no more than a shadow among shadows.

His sharp obsidian eyes swept downward toward the wide courtyard. Resting silently in the open space were several massive construction machines—towering cranes, heavy trucks, and soil compactors—all parked neatly along the edge of the garden.

They had been lined up in readiness, prepared to begin work on a new project, a private residence that Al himself had designed, distinct and separated from the grand Virellano mansion.

Exhaling slowly, Al shifted his gaze, turning it across the surroundings. From his vantage point, he noticed several shadows moving silently—David's subordinates who had returned after slipping away earlier in the day.

They moved with disciplined silence, their figures resembling a stream of black water flowing back into the estate. For the past few days, their primary focus was obvious: guarding David's quarters while keeping close watch on Al's room inside the main Virellano building.

The mansion itself was no less secured. Its towering walls and glowing windows radiated warmth, yet they were surrounded by layers of protection.

Muscular bodyguards and seasoned professionals patrolled with unwavering vigilance, creating a defense formation nearly impenetrable. The increased surveillance was a direct response to the incident earlier that morning. Dedy, unfortunately, was absent from duty, his injuries far too severe.

From this, Al realized one fortunate advantage: their focus was fixed on the mansion, not the garden. And that precise oversight created the opening he required.

"Perfect," he whispered under his breath.

He raised his right hand, and the black ring encircling his finger shimmered faintly, exuding a dim light. The air before him split with a subtle tear, like fabric of the night being ripped apart.

From within that opening, Al withdrew four small stones, each no larger than his little finger and carved into spirals. Their surfaces gleamed with a gentle radiance, pulsing faintly with violet light—alive, as though each held a heartbeat of its own.

"This will decide the outcome of the construction…" he murmured softly, his voice nearly lost to the whisper of the wind as he toyed with the four stones in his palm.

With swift precision, he flung the stones in four directions—north, south, west, and east of the vacant ground where the building would rise. They landed without a single sound, as if swallowed by the earth itself, and immediately the violet glow upon them pulsed stronger, resonating with the soil.

Al surveyed the area one last time to ensure no disturbance lingered. Certain of its safety, he descended from the branch with effortless grace. His steps touched the ground with such delicacy that no sound accompanied them as he moved toward the center of the marked ground.

His hands shifted, fingers interlocking in a deliberate formation, fingertips touching while his palms remained apart. Standing firm, he closed his eyes briefly, then allowed his lips to part, releasing an ancient chant. The incantation reverberated softly, a forgotten tongue no longer understood by most of humankind.

When the mantra reached its climax, Al's eyes snapped open. His palms clapped together with decisive force.

Illusion Stone: Activate.

At once, the four spiral stones reacted. Violet light surged into the earth, then coursed upward, connecting into threads of luminous lines. They wove across the air, binding to one another until they formed a faint dome that encompassed the entire construction zone.

To the outside eye, nothing had changed—the ground remained bare, machines resting where they had been. Yet anyone attempting to observe would find their vision deceived, their senses tricked by a masterful illusion.

A subtle pressure pressed against Al as the barrier came alive. Closing his eyes, he gauged the stability, waiting as the power settled. After several seconds, he opened them again, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Not bad. These little stones really are fine artifacts. Huff… as long as no one touches them, not even a Sovereign-class fighter or an Apocalypse-class djinn will be able to detect this illusion," he muttered, clenching his fist in quiet celebration of his success.

Not far away, the sound of footsteps echoed, heavy boots striking against the path as two bodyguards strolled across the garden walkway. Their casual chatter drifted out as they carried on their patrol.

Al glanced in their direction, then instantly retreated a step, melting his figure once again into the embrace of the tree's shadow.

A faint rustle stirred from his movement, enough to make the guards pause. Their eyes flicked briefly toward the empty construction ground, suspicion flashing across their faces, but when they saw nothing unusual, their focus returned to the mansion.

They remained entirely oblivious that only a few meters away, a high-level illusion barrier had been activated under their very noses.

Al curved his lips into a sly grin.

"You almost startled me."

His gaze returned to the Virellano mansion. The light spilling through its windows radiated warmth, painting an image of normal life within—family gathered together, lighthearted conversation, soft laughter. But Al knew better. Behind those walls rested truths not yet unveiled, secrets far more dangerous than David's men could ever be.

The night grew louder with the incessant cry of crickets. With a fluid leap, Al sprang to a higher branch, his body gradually blending into the veil of darkness until he seemed to vanish entirely, as if swallowed by the night itself.

Above, the half-moon lingered pale and watchful, its faint smile bearing silent witness. And once again, the night returned to its quiet stillness, as though nothing at all had transpired.

---

Al had once again reached the place that had gradually become his favorite spot every night he went out on patrol—the rooftop of the Vinishi building. It was not just any building, but a towering structure that dominated the skyline, shaped like the sharp prow of an enormous ship, an architectural wonder that had become the symbolic icon of Makazhar University.

The reason he favored this location was not only because it offered comfort and a wide view of the city. There was something else about it, something subtle yet undeniable.

The entire structure, along with the land on which it was built, seemed to radiate a kind of positive mystical energy. It was the sort of presence that felt like a stabilizing pillar planted deep into the ground, a protective stake that shielded the city of Makazhar from unseen forces. Its existence alone seemed capable of dispersing any malignant spiritual disturbance that tried to take root nearby.

And because of that, Al was not the only one who came here. Others who were sensitive enough to perceive higher-level energies often found themselves drawn to this place as well, sometimes by mere instinct.

Tonight was one such night. It was not even part of his official patrol schedule, yet Al had still left the Virellano residence dressed in his black uniform, his movements silent and unhurried.

"You come here quite often."

The voice was low and rough, carrying the tone of someone who had lived long enough to see countless nights like this. It came from behind him.

Al turned his head.

There stood an old woman, her frame thin and slightly hunched, clad in dark gray robes. Her hair, completely white, was tied back into a neat knot. At first glance, her eyes seemed unsettling—they were half open, the sclera darkened until it appeared as though she had no whites at all. Yet at the center still gleamed a pair of pupils, yellow-green with thin black slits, like the eyes of some untamed beast.

Al lowered his mask just a little, revealing his face without hesitation, as though her presence posed no threat to his identity. His expression was calm, almost casual, with the hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

"I only come here twice a week," he replied smoothly. "What's the harm in that… Ayabu?"

"Hahaha. You are the same as always," the old woman—Ayabu—answered with a dry chuckle as she walked closer. "Starting with words that sound unpleasant. But I do not mind it at all."

Al let out a quiet hum, crossing his arms in thought. "You're right. Perhaps I should try to fix that habit."

"If you can, that is." Ayabu's lips curved faintly as she moved past him and stopped at the very edge of the building.

Al shrugged, stretching his hands out to the side for a moment as if to dismiss the weight of the matter.

"Well… we'll see about that," he said, before casually joining her and taking his place at her side.

Ayabu glanced at him briefly, her gaze sharp before she spoke again.

"Tell me, can you feel it too?"

"There are always plenty of strange things I can feel," Al replied, his eyes following the glitter of the streets as Makazhar began to light up in the early hours of the evening. "Which one are you talking about?"

Ayabu turned her gaze to the cityscape as well. She remained silent for a moment, as if carefully selecting her words, before finally answering.

"The disturbances between dimensions… the appearance of resonant beasts… and even the high djinn. They've been surfacing more frequently these days." Her tone carried the weight of concern. "Sometimes I wonder if this era—an age where most humans know nothing about magic—can even survive another disruption of dimensions, like the one that happened thousands of years ago."

"You still love comparing everything to that world from tens of thousands of years ago, the one you never stop glorifying," Al retorted lightly.

"Of course I do. It was the only age where all beings could coexist in peace," Ayabu said, her voice tinged with wistfulness. "The one era where demi-humans like me had a rightful place."

"And in the end, even those of you who can live for nearly eternity still lost that place in this age," Al countered, his words blunt but grounded in reality.

Ayabu fell quiet for a breath, then let out a thoughtful murmur. "If only the great Jagoe were still alive. Or at the very least, if the book that explained the Last Covenant still existed… I doubt the world would have ended up in this state."

Al turned to her briefly, a faint smile touching his lips.

"You've really piqued my curiosity about this Jagoe you hold in such high regard. But honestly… you don't need to keep dwelling on the past. Nostalgia only weighs you down."

Ayabu did not respond. Instead, fragments of memory resurfaced in her mind—visions of her younger self, standing tall among hundreds of demi-humans. At their front was a man whose entire body shone with golden energy, preparing for battle against hundreds of thousands of enemies. In that moment, all of them had believed, without doubt, that victory was certain.

"Calm yourself," Al added, his voice softer this time, almost reassuring. "No matter the era, humans are never something to be underestimated. Even with my strength, I still tread carefully. Recklessness is not an option."

Ayabu slowly nodded. After living for thousands of years, she had witnessed enough to know his words carried truth. Humanity had a unique power that could awaken when they walked the path they believed to be right. It was not mere magic or brute force, but something far less definable, something that manifested when their resolve was genuine. And time after time, in every war she had seen or taken part in, that truth had proven itself.

"They call you DIAR—an existence equal to the High djinn, and in some ways, even more corrupted and broken than us demi-humans. Have you never thought about simply allowing the dimensions to open and merge again, just like twenty thousand years ago? Wouldn't that be far more advantageous for someone like you, whose body already resonates naturally with both dimensions? Rather than… endlessly trying to be accepted as a normal human, when deep down you already know—you are not." Ayabu asked, her voice low yet steady.

Al shook his head.

"Of course it would be beneficial," he admitted without hesitation. "But I have countless reasons to refuse. One of the biggest reasons is the one you already pointed out. In this era, hardly anyone still knows how to wield magic. If the dimensions were to merge again, billions of humans would perish without meaning or purpose. That loss of life would cripple the human population and leave us weakened, turning us into a scattered minority. And being a minority in such a world… would be no different than living as slaves under the dominion of the djinn."

His fist tightened as he spoke, knuckles whitening. His expression sharpened, and from around his body, faint traces of shadowy black energy stirred restlessly, as if responding to his frustration.

"Just like what my people and I went through when we first set foot in Azzaleth," he added, his voice tinged with irritation.

Ayabu's gaze flickered toward him, her face hardening as she noticed the subtle waves of corrupted energy swirling in the air. The sight made her uneasy, and so she deliberately shifted the conversation to something else.

"You're right about that," she replied carefully. Then, after a pause, she asked, "So what is your reason for coming out tonight? It isn't like you to roam the city at night without cause."

Al exhaled slowly, releasing some of the tension from his body. The dark energy receded, his earlier burst of emotion subsiding as quickly as it had appeared. Finally, he gave her a small nod.

"Like I said before, there have been too many disturbances lately, too many feelings gnawing at me. I wanted to check for myself, to make sure nothing is truly wrong. And it seems…" His words trailed off as he tugged at his right sleeve, rolling it back to reveal the pale skin of his arm. "…it all connects to the dimensional disturbances."

Etched into his flesh was a strange and unsettling mark. A golden circle glowed faintly, enclosing five smaller orbs within. The central orb was the largest, its colors shifting between crimson, black, and gold as if molten. Around it rested four smaller spheres, each shimmering in its own hue—one golden-yellow, one silvery-violet, one pale blue, and one coppery green. The outer golden ring trembled faintly, pulsing like a living heartbeat, as if the symbol itself were alive.

Al's words alone had already startled Ayabu. But when her eyes fell upon that mysterious mark, her body stiffened, and a ripple of shock coursed through her. She did not know exactly what the symbol represented, yet some instinct told her it was bound to matters far greater than anything she could control.

"That mark…" Ayabu whispered, her voice almost breaking.

Al gave a small nod, rolling his sleeve back down and covering the mark once more. He pulled his mask up over his face again, hiding his expression.

"I think it's about time I move," he said simply.

Ayabu inclined her head in agreement. She did not know the full extent of who—or what—Al truly was. But one thing she knew for certain: he was not someone that could be underestimated.

Al's gaze lingered on her for a brief moment, then he added, "You'll need to heal that if you plan on going out again. It'll be dangerous if anyone sees it and realizes what you are."

And with those words, he bent his knees, then leapt off the building, vanishing swiftly into the night.

Ayabu raised a hand and touched the base of her neck. The texture there was rough, far rougher than it should have been. With a faint ache in her chest, she realized one of her scales had surfaced without her noticing.

"I really am getting old," she murmured under her breath.

Her eyes lifted once more, following the faint silhouette of Al as he bounded from rooftop to rooftop. Even through her aging, half-blind sight, his figure shone vividly in the darkness.

"And perhaps… in what remains of my life, I will still have the chance to witness someone carrying forward your will, Lord Jagoe." A soft, nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. "Just like you once said… every era will always have its own people."

With that quiet thought, her form dissolved into the night air, leaving the rooftop utterly empty—as though the heavy conversation that had just unfolded there had never taken place at all.

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