Louis, watching the elderly man atop the bed, unconfidently muttered, "Mr. St. Hill?"
The old man, with hair gray until it was white, hung eye bags, and dark, wrinkled skin, wore a luxuriously fabricated white suit. He then smiled, every movement facilitated by his lips' tremors as the rest of his body shook. He muttered in a raspy voice, grasped by impending demise, "Yes... It is I, your client, St. Hill."
The old man slowly raised himself up to the bunk of the bed, panting loudly, his entire body trembling as though he had been electrified. He then peered at Louis, the unique, aesthetic Transcendental youth. So this is a member of the Amirag Clan—this one whom I've hired, he thought.
Louis then bowed, extending a formal greeting gesture. "It's an honor to meet you." Amidst his gentle gesture, there was animosity behind it. This man... He liaises with the Amirag family, doesn't he? Louis thought, clenching a fist, where his anger and frustration were concentrated.
St. Hill shot a glance at Louis's fists, noticing the unshakable anger hidden behind his apparently pleasant deportment. He then questioned, "Are you angered, child?"
Louis peered down, looking at his fists, his veins spreading with anger. Crap—I must've gotten stirred up by the thought of home. He then forced a smile. "How could I be?"
St. Hill smiled. "No need to hide it. It's normal for folk to despise us. After all, we're here housing an entire ecosystem to ourselves and us alone. It makes sense why you'd hate me, why they'd hate me." He then stared further into Louis's eyes. "You've seen it, haven't you? Impressive, isn't it? I'm sure, given your expertise, that you've seen it, seen how we're able to conduct this entire ecotone. Maybe you've even sensed that."
Louis folded his arms. "You're using Spirit Stones. Besides that, when I was Soul Lapsing, I sensed deep animosity toward the central area of this place. You're housing a Spirit Beast, aren't you?"
The old man, coughing to the tip of his lungs, then grinned, his toothless mouth revealed. "Of course you'd notice. I'm impressed. We've had several Transcenders come through here before and barely notice anything. I'm surprised that you, as a youthful vine, are so much more observant than even seasoned Transcenders."
Louis smirked. "Don't undervalue me. Of course, I would." He then frowned, glaring vexedly at the old man. "But do not misunderstand it—my hatred doesn't stem from that, and neither do you need to know where it stems from."
St. Hill retaliated, "Well then, I won't try to guess or derive where your hatred stems from. After all, we men have our secrets, ones we tend not to tell." He then raised a glass of red wine, taking a sip, and asked, "Well then, what do you make of all of this? How do you assume all of this works?"
"I believe," Louis said with a finger on his chin, "that you've built this entire place around the Spirit Beast and that the very same monstrous creature is responsible for the creation of the green life we see around. Spirit Beasts tend to create substances, relics, things, life that cannot survive long without being in its presence. So that's where Spirit Stones come in."
The old man lowered the glass and elaborated further in Louis's stead. "Yes, the Spirit Stones house residual dormant Soul Energies, which essentially means they contain life-force. Usually, when the Beast is alive, they house a tremendous amount of life that spans far beyond a human's. But after they are dead and separated from the Beast, the amount depletes, becoming lesser than even a human's."
Louis, pausing at a realization, then intervened, "But that's where you use them on lesser life forms, on the green life created by the Spirit Beasts, so that after they are separated from their progenitor, they can survive regardless, using the dormant energy of the Spirit Stones." He then questioned, "So I guess those stick-like items outside, buried in the ground, are where the Spirit Stones supplying life are stored?"
The old man, with his remaining ounce of strength, began to clap, every bone joint crackling. "Splendid! To think you could figure out two lifetimes of my work within a day."
Louis then smiled. "Ahh, so you did partake in the creation of this ecosystem, didn't you?"
"I did."
His smile then transitioned into a serious gaze. "So you are nearly ninety years old, I presume. This is not your first time being brought back to life, is it?"
The old man, St. Hill, spiraled into a ferocious cough, panting loudly, gasping for air as he painted his de-colored blood onto the tiled floor. "I'm all-natural," he choked once more. "This is my first time ever being resurrected, truthfully I tell you."
He isn't lying... Never in this entire conversation has the man been dishonest with me, Louis thought. Continuing the discussion, he said, "Alright then, I believe you. But I do possess a question... Where and how did you partake in this entire grand plan?"
"I made the rifles..." Coughing, he continued, "Rifles were only just being made—a fair concept, similar to that of a flintlock. Weapons that aren't as commonly seen, weapons useless against the ferocious beasts of today. I, in my great splendor, imbued these weapons with Spirit Stones. Different colored Spirit Stones usually have certain functions, though they all possess life-force. The ones I imbued these weapons with are specifically to take down Soul Manipulators such as yourself." He grinned. "Though I don't plan to reveal how—another secret, you could say. One as dear to me as my manhood."
Tch—suddenly secretive? Louis thought. He then smiled once more, sarcastically and rudely saying, "Manhood? In your current state, you're like a retarded child." He then walked up to St. Hill, clasping his palms together. "You should share your secrets with me. Don't be selfish, Grandpa. After all, you hired me." He grinned psychotically. "I fear that I am not so cheap." He thought desperately, If I could learn more about them—Maybe these Transcender-targeted weapons could benefit the Syndicate.
The old man smiled back in the face of death. "There's one rifle already aimed at your head, and soon there will be many more. Quickly now, bring me back to life."
Louis glanced to the side, through the window, alert. He took slow steps away from St. Hill, sucking his teeth loudly in distaste. Folding his arms in surrender, he asked, "So, where is the Drainer?"
"He's underneath the bed, I presume," the old man casually expressed.
"Underneath the bed?" Louis questioned. He slouched down, lowering his body to the ground, and crept beneath the large bed. There, amidst the darkness, he saw a figure—a mindless human being. So this is where. He then stood back up, turning to face St. Hill.
St. Hill, with a palm on his forehead, sulked. "His face quite doesn't match my splendor; that's why I've had him hidden. The selfish human merchants keep the good-looking ones to themselves."
"I see," Louis retorted, frightened by the coldness of heart the man in front of him possessed. Are these sick bastards even human? He questioned.