Reinhard shakily closed the book. What did this mean?
He hadn't chosen this book. The Library of the Exiled had chosen it for him.
Perhaps there were two meanings.
One: 024, the Great Serpent, was warning Reinhard to keep the secret between them. To ensure no one discovered the connection between the Serpent's Hand and him.
The other meaning: 024, the Great Serpent, had uncovered his true identity. This was a subtle hint on how to survive.
But Reinhard felt the first possibility was much more likely. After all, 024 didn't seem capable of reading minds.
If it could, it would know Reinhard wasn't part of the Serpent's Hand. It would know Reinhard wasn't there to save it. It wouldn't have opened the door for him.
Reinhard, thinking this, calmly carried the book to Mei and set it down on the counter.
"De… ahem, owner, can I choose this one?"
Familiar slip of the tongue—almost called her Death!
Mei glanced at the book in his hands before shifting her gaze toward a bookshelf.
This book again?
"Good choice."
Mei took out a quill, inscribed a date on the bookmark, and slid it into the book.
"Return the book in two months. If it's overdue, someone will come looking for you."
Reinhard blinked. "Um, owner… actually, I…"
Before he could finish, Mei snapped her fingers.
Snap!
A dizzying sensation overtook Reinhard, and he was abruptly pulled out of the bookstore.
In an instant, everything before him vanished like smoke, leaving him standing blankly in the middle of the street.
"What… happened?"
Reinhard raised his head. The sky was dark. The bookstore had disappeared. The street was deserted, and the atmosphere was eerily still.
Suddenly, Reinhard dropped to his knees.
Ultimately…
"I didn't get a potion!"
He punched the ground in frustration. A book tumbled from his chest.
The cover depicted a pale man, his hands clasped tightly over his eyes. Behind him, a woman's hands obscured his mouth.
Tears of blood streamed from the man's eyes, the crimson streaks almost alive, oozing despair.
The cover was ominous, unsettling, and utterly terrifying.
"The Man Who Lost His Eyes"
Reinhard picked up the book and muttered, "I don't know if this is good or bad, but at least… I didn't get nothing."
...
Kitsune Headquarters.
High-security containment area.
A middle-aged man holding an access card silently slipped into the restricted zone, heading straight to containment cell 008.
Several heavily armed soldiers stood guard. As he approached, they raised their hands to stop him.
"The chief has ordered that no one can enter."
The man sneered. "He's not here now. What authority do you B-level grunts have to stop me? Move aside."
The soldiers remained motionless.
The man's expression darkened. "The O5 Council can't even command you?!"
In unison, the soldiers replied, "You cannot represent the O5 Council."
"Then can Zero represent them!?"
The man growled, his tone harsh. "This is your last warning. Move, or do you want to be demoted?"
The soldiers exchanged glances before reluctantly stepping aside.
The containment cell door opened, and the man stepped inside. But the room was empty save for a painting on the wall.
"Hm?"
"Where's 008?"
The man froze.
Zero had left Kitsune headquarters a day ago. The timing had been perfect to confront 008, yet now… the cell was empty?
No—it's impossible for 008 to have disappeared. Zero must have moved it elsewhere.
"That Zero always has a backup plan," the man muttered, turning his attention to the painting. It depicted a man's back, his posture enigmatic, as though he gazed upon something unseen.
Shrugging it off, the man turned back toward the soldiers.
"Where did Zero move 008?"
The moment his gaze shifted, the painted man turned his head!
Crack!
A pair of shadowy hands lunged from the painting, twisting the man's neck with a sickening snap.
Thump.
The man collapsed. The soldiers calmly donned eye covers and began dragging the body away.
"Chief Moritz, unfortunately, died while engaging with 'the man in the painting.' Despite our best efforts to warn him, Chief Moritz disregarded the dangers and insisted on entering the containment cell."
A security camera mounted on the wall captured everything, transmitting the footage to someone's phone.
..
In a black minivan.
Zero reclined in the back seat, watching the recording on his device.
"009-11, the man in the painting. Handling it requires at least five D-class personnel and three C-class personnel to rotate observation shifts.
"When 009-11 exits its observed state, it turns its head to kill anyone in its line of sight. Its effective range is defined by whatever the man in the painting can see upon turning."
The Kitsune Organization classified it as akin to a Killer Electric Fan.
Zero smirked. Perfect for taking out treacherous officials.
The real 008 had been relocated long ago. Zero had anticipated scenarios like this—internal betrayal, spies, even vampire assaults.
As such, he'd created an elaborate web of decoys and traps, the man in the painting among them.
To lure out traitors, Zero had deliberately left headquarters, giving them the chance to act.
"Too bad there was only one," Zero muttered, closing his phone as he gazed out the window.
A flash of light reflected in the glass.
Bang!
A gunshot shattered the calm. A bullet pierced the window and struck Zero squarely in the head!
Splat!
Blood spattered across the interior. The panicked driver swerved, crashing into a barricade.
From a distant rooftop, a sniper exhaled a puff of smoke.
"Bullseye."
He smirked, sliding another round into the chamber.
Bang!
Another shot, this time aimed at Zero's chest.
...
In a distant skyscraper.
Zero stood unharmed, staring into the horizon. "I knew they wouldn't resist attacking me."
He turned to a young man nearby. "012, create a clone and send it back to headquarters."
The young man nodded, his body shifting unnaturally. A head emerged from his back, followed by a full torso.
Whumph.
A perfect replica of Zero stepped forward.
Number 012: Master of Flesh.
A former third-seat operative of the Chaos Insurgency, 012 could generate clones imbued with implanted memories.
While his power consumed negligible amounts of blood, the clones had limited lifespans.
The more blood used, the longer they endured. A single drop bought an hour. Beyond that, it scaled exponentially.