Afternoon at the Mist Gate on the 2nd floor, before the explosion.
The 2nd floor of Stellarkeep was a stark contrast to the well-maintained 1st and 3rd floors.
This area was filthy, crowded with irregularly shaped buildings, and barely fit for habitation. Trash was scattered everywhere, and a rancid odor hung in the air. The place looked as if it had been abandoned by anyone who cared about keeping it clean.
This part of Stellarkeep was commonly known as "the slums." People with odd appearances or strange behaviors were not an unusual sight here.
The slums were far from the influence or attention of Stellarkeep's management, which allowed them to become a haven for outcasts, criminals, and other individuals who preferred to stay under the radar.
Among the shady characters wandering through the slums, one individual stood out. Not because of his purple robe, but because of his bizarre appearance with tissues stuffed into his nostrils. The tissues gave him the appearance of a walrus with tusks protruding from his nose.
That individual was Oz. His nostrils were plugged because the stench of the slums was unbearable to him.
"Muehehe, now the smell is finally bearable!"
He muttered to himself as he adjusted the tissues.
Before heading to the 2nd floor to investigate, Oz had visited Sarah's bar, hoping she might have information about the slums.Unfortunately, her bar was closed, leaving him with no choice but to seek out another informant with questionable credibility.
"The refugee disappearances have been happening for eight months now," Oz muttered as he walked through the filthy streets
"But the police only started paying attention because of All Hallow's Week."
Above him, several officers patrolled on flying brooms. The brooms zoomed through the air with a faint whooshing sound, the officers keeping an eye on the ground below.
"Cheaters!" Oz shouted at them, pointing an accusing finger.
"Why are you guys allowed to use flying brooms in a no-flying zone?"
"Oz, is that you?"
A familiar voice came from behind, causing Oz to turn. He immediately groaned when he saw who it was—David, accompanied by his usual gang.
"David… and the gang. Why are you guys here?"
David's group was infamous for meddling in situations like this. Whenever a problem arose that the authorities couldn't solve, this group of teenagers always managed to swoop. To Oz, their presence was more of an annoyance than a relief.
"We're volunteering to help the police find the missing refugees," David explained.
"Why do you have tissues in your nose?"
"I can't stand the smell," Oz replied, his tone flat.
"Yeah, me neither! It smells awful!" Agnes chimed in.
She had also plugged her nose with tissues, tears streaming from her eyes as she tried to endure the stench.
"Hey! Don't copy me!" Oz protested, pointing at Agnes.
"Who's copying you? Do you think I enjoy this?" Agnes snapped back.
"I'd do anything else if it meant I didn't have to smell this place!"
Despite their complaints, no one else in the group seemed overly bothered by the smell.
Behind Agnes, Oz spotted a few familiar faces, including Estella and Nichola, as well as several other students Oz didn't recognize.
Counting everyone present, there were 21 students, including Oz, and 8 adults from the police force.
Among the students, a girl with fishtail braids approached Oz. She had a sharp gaze and a commanding presence.
"You're the Chair Rider, right?" she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.
"If I'm not mistaken, you're a member of Midas. What are you scheming?"
The girl was Esther De Summerson, a second-year student from the House of Pluto. She was known for her distrust of Midas members.
"I'm not scheming anything," Oz replied, rolling his eyes.
"There are plenty of missing refugees. If you're that worried, we can split the search areas."
"That's not the point!" Esther snapped.
"This is a Theseus operation. Midas shouldn't be involved!"
Oz irritated by Esther's hostile attitude. He really wanted to put her in her place. But for now, he decided to hold back.
"Why do you think Theseus is that great?" Oz retorted.
"You think too highly of yourself. Look at you, walking around in a long dress and white socks in the slums. Do you think this is a tourist attraction?"
Esther's face turned red with anger.
"You—!"
"Haha, calm down, you two," David interjected.
"Senior, I've known Oz since the entrance exam. He's not a bad person. There must be a good reason he joined Midas."
David's calm demeanor and persuasive tone managed to defuse the tension. The rest of the group eventually agreed to let Oz join the search effort.
"Kids, we're not here for a field trip," one of the police officers, Mr. Blathers, barked.
"Stop arguing and focus on the mission."
Mr. Blathers had clearly had enough.
"I don't understand why Mistheaven sent me to babysit 20 kids," he grumbled.
"Dont forget me. It's 21 now," Oz added nonchalantly.
"… Yeah, 21 kids… I'm not a kindergarten teacher. Listen
… Don't wander off. If any of you go missing, I'll be the one in trouble. Got it?"
The group fell silent, the officer's firm tone putting an end to their bickering.
"What is that?" someone asked, pointing toward the slums.
"Is that a cloud? Or fog perhaps?"
David squinted in the same direction as the other students, trying to make out what they were referring to.
"What cloud? I don't see anything," Oz muttered, his tone tinged with confusion.
Oz squinted his eyes and scanned the orange-tinged sky, but there was nothing unusual in his line of sight.
"Strange, Stellarkeep second floor shouldn't have clouds nor fog."
David, clearly perplexed.
"Seriously? Am I the only one who can't see it?"
Oz now feeling a bit annoyed as the debate between the students grew louder.
The group began to discuss the anomaly. Some students argued that clouds were a natural occurrence, citing Stellarkeep's unique biome, while others were convinced something unnatural was happening.
"Alright, that's enough," Mr. Blathers interrupted.
"We're here to investigate, not for a field trip. Let's move. We're heading to the block where group of refugees disappeared last night."
The group reorganized itself, with the adults leading from the front and guarding the rear, creating the appearance of a field trip.
"I don't feel well."
Agnes clutching her head. Her pale complexion and trembling hands were enough to make David immediately rush to her side.
"Are you okay? Do you need to go back? I can escort you if you're feeling unwell."
David offered as he steadied her.
Agnes shook her head weakly.
"No, I'll be fine. I just need to adjust to this."
"What's wrong with her?"
Oz asked David as they continued walking.
"Agnes is a lycanthrope," David explained.
"The overwhelming stench of the slums is probably too much for her heightened senses."
He laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension.
"... Oof," Oz oofed, not laughing.
He was aware that Agnes's discomfort was likely caused by the cold silver he carried in his pocket, but he decided to stay quiet.
Agnes took a deep breath and pushed herself to stand without assistance.
"I can walk on my own," she said, forcing her shaky legs to move forward.
The group navigated through narrow alleys, passing crumbling buildings and makeshift shelters.
Refugees peered cautiously from shadows and corners, their suspicious gazes following the group's every step.
The further they walked, the more tension built in the air. Refugees had every reason to distrust anyone in uniform, especially the police. Interactions often led to more hardship than help.
Eventually, the group arrived at a central plaza dominated by an old stone well.
It was the primary water source for this block, though its condition suggested it had seen better days.
"Listen up," Mr. Blathers commanded.
"Don't touch anything suspicious. Report directly to me if you find any leads."
Several officers began cordoning off the area with bright yellow police tape.
The first thing Mr. Blathers did was inspect the well. Ever since the Morrowghast case, he had developed a paranoia about wells.
He leaned over cautiously and stared at his reflection in the water below. When he saw nothing unusual, his body visibly relaxed.
"Yep. This well is normal. Thank goodness," he mumbled, stepping back.
Meanwhile, students and officers spread out, carefully entering nearby homes and examining the surroundings.
The houses told their own chilling stories. Half-eaten meals on tables, chairs knocked over, and items left scattered, as though the residents had vanished mid-action.
David, Agnes, Oz, and Estella choose a house that stood out. The wall had a gaping hole patched with a wooden planks.
Oz winced as he cautiously removed the tissues from his nostrils. His sharp sense of smell instantly being assaulted by the putrid odor lingering in the house. Then, something familiar caught his attention.
"Yeah. Vampire. And a smelly one at that," he muttered, quickly stuffing the tissues back into his nose.
"You can smell it too? Are you a lycanthrope?" Agnes asked, her own heightened senses picking up on the scent as well.
"Nope," Oz replied casually.
"I'm not a lycanthrope, but my senses are pretty sharp."
"Oh… I thought…"
Agnes trailed off, looking slightly disappointed.
It wasn't surprising. As a lycanthrope, Agnes often felt isolated, even in Mistheaven Academy.
Trust among lycanthropes was rare, and acceptance into a pack required time and effort.
Agnes herself had faced rejection from the lycanthrope club at Mistheaven because her transformation revealed albino fur, an uncommon trait that made her an outsider even among her own kind.
"Hmm. If this is a vampire's doing, there should be a body somewhere. But we haven't found any reports of deaths."
David said as he cast a spell to track movements. Unfortunately, the overlapping footprints made it nearly impossible to identify a single trail.
"Let's just ask the refugees."
Estella suggested impatiently, her tone revealing her frustration.
When Estella approached a group of refugees near the plaza, they immediately began retreating. They distrust wizards, especially those working alongside the police.
"Wait, I just want to ask something!"
Estella called out, but her words only made the refugees move further away.
The students exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that their presence was only making things worse.
"Leave it to me. I have a way to make them talk."
Before anyone could respond, Oz bolted forward, startling everyone around him.
His sudden movement caught the attention of a thin refugee who had been observing the group from a distance.
The man froze momentarily but quickly realized Oz was heading straight for him.
Panicking, the refugee took off, climbing onto the rooftops of the surrounding houses.
"Hey, you there! Let's talk, or would you rather have a conversation with my fists?"
Oz yelled, his voice echoing through the narrow alleys.
The refugee didn't respond, his focus solely on escaping.
Using his parkour skills, Oz climbed onto the rooftops, leaping across the gaps to keep up with his target.
"Come on, let's be friends. Stop running!"
But the man only grew more terrified. Who wouldn't be? If someone with a wide, unsettling grin chased you out of nowhere, running seemed like the only option.
"Vagabundus!"
With a flick of his fingers, Oz cast a spell. An invisible force hit the man, causing him to lose his footing.
He stumbled and tumbled down the roof, landing in a heap of trash bags in the alley below.
"Geuhh!"
Oz then jumped down effortlessly, landing a few feet away from the man, who groaned in pain.
"Let's not make this harder than it needs to be," Oz said, crouching down to the man's eye level.
"I just want to talk."
The man scrambled backward, his eyes wide with fear.
"I-I don't know anything! Please, let me go!"
Oz sighed and stood up, brushing off his pants.
"I can smell money on you. A lot of it. If you don't tell me what I want to know, I'll take it and buying some food for myself."
The man froze, his face turning pale.
"H-How? How do you know I have money?"
Oz didn't answer immediately, letting the silence hang in the air.
The man's hands instinctively went to his vest, where he had hidden his stash of money.
It was his savings, accumulated over years of hard work and desperation, and he thought it was well-concealed.
"Now," Oz said, crossing his arms.
"Tell me about the vampire."
The tissues stuffed in Oz's nose made him look ridiculous, but the man wasn't laughing. His fear was too great. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"Vampire? What vampire? There's never been a vampire here!"
Oz's eyes narrowed.
"What? Do you think I'm stupid? This whole place reeks of them. Maybe I should just take your money."
"No, no, no! I'm serious! I'm serious!" the man cried, raising his hands defensively.
"I've lived here for over 20 years, and there's never been a vampire in this area! I swear I'll tell you everything I know!"
The fear in his eyes was genuine, his trembling hands further proof of his honesty.
*********
Meanwhile, back at the plaza, Estella groaned and rubbed her temples.
"And he's gone. What a freak. No wonder he managed to tame Ophelia."
She sighed heavily, feeling the weight of their unproductive investigation.
"Hahaha, Oz is full of surprises. Relax, he's a better fighter than me." David said, trying to lighten the mood.
Estella's head shot up, her eyes wide.
"He what?"
David shrugged.
"What can I say? He's not just unpredictable—he's strong, too."
"Child, regroup," Mr. Blathers called out, his voice echoing through the now-quiet plaza.
"We've gathered information from the locals."
The students slowly gathered around, listening as Mr. Blathers spoke.
"Apparently, this started eight months ago. At first, it was limited to a small area, but the affected zone kept growing. More refugees began disappearing. This plaza was full of people just yesterday."
"So, where did it all begin?" an officer asked.
"An old factory, about one kilometer north of here," Mr. Blathers replied.
The group murmured among themselves, the tension in the air thick.
"Excuse me, Mr. Blathers," Agnes spoke up, her tone firm.
"Shouldn't we call for reinforcements? I can sense a vampire's presence here."
Mr. Blathers frowned and exchanged a glance with the officers.
"Vampires?" one officer repeated, his expression skeptical.
Agnes nodded.
"Yes, we confirmed their presence. But we still haven't found the missing refugees."
Mr. Blathers let out a heavy sigh.
"We need to contact HQ and let the inquisitors handle this. It's too dangerous for us to continue if vampires are involved."
Many students muttered their disagreement, frustrated that they couldn't do more. But they had no choice but to follow orders.
"Um, excuse me, Mr. Blathers," Nichola said lazily, finally speaking up.
"It seems like some students haven't returned yet."
His words made everyone look around, realizing the group was indeed smaller than before.
"Damn it. That's why I hate bringing kids along on missions!"
The moment Mr. Blathers grumbled, a thick, unnatural fog began to roll in, quickly engulfing the entire plaza.
Within seconds, visibility dropped to barely a meter, leaving everyone disoriented.
"This... This isn't normal fog. It's a spell! Everyone, be ready for an ambush!"
He shouted, his voice cutting through the dense silence.
The volunteers and officers immediately drew their weapons or prepared their spells, their stances tense.
The plaza became eerily quiet, with only the occasional shuffle of step breaking the silence.
One minute passed. Then two. Then three.
Yet, no attack came.
"David, it seems like a false alarm,"
Estella said, gripping David's arm for reassurance as she scanned the area nervously.
"Yeah, but we need to regroup with everyone else "
David replied, his eyes darting through the fog, trying to locate their teammates.
"Oooiii guuuys, where are youuu!"
David yelled, his voice echoing faintly in the muffled air.
"Hereeee!"
Through the fog, a shadowy figure approached, growing clearer with each step. Soon, the familiar face of Nichola emerged, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
"David, Estella, why did you guys wander off? Come on, let's head back to the plaza," Nichola said with worry.
David and Estella exchanged confused glances.
"We didn't go anywhere. We've been at the plaza this whole time," David replied.
"Nichola, where's Agnes?" Estella asked, her voice tense.
Nichola blinked, startled by the question.
"Why are you asking me? Isn't she with you?"
The three of them fell silent, exchanging uneasy looks. None of them seemed to have any answers.
"Don't worry. My dog disappeared for a week once and came back safe and sound."
Nichola forcing a grin. His attempt at humor fell flat.
"By the way, where are we?"
David asked with low voice as the realization dawned. He look around to their surroundings.
The area around them was nothing like the plaza they had been in moments ago.
The cobblestone streets were replaced by piles of rubble and decaying wooden beams. Garbage was strewn everywhere, filling the air with a foul stench.
"We're not in the plaza anymore," Estella said, her voice shaking.
The sour expressions on their faces revealed their shared realization. They were under the influence of a powerful spell.
**********
Back in the plaza, Agnes stood alone, confusion etched on her face.
"David? Estella? Nichola? Where are you guys?"
She called out, her voice trembling.
Agnes felt uneasy, her chest tightening. Something was off, but she couldn't pinpoint what.
She took take a sleep inside one of the empty, crumbling houses nearby, hoping to clear her thoughts.
Then, Mr. Blathers' booming voice rang out from somewhere in the distance. The urgency in his tone snapped Agnes out of her daze.
She stepped outside, only to find people running in all directions.
"What's going on?" she muttered, her heart pounding.
*Thud* *Thud* *Thud*
The sound of footsteps reached her ears, echoing from house to house. The rhythm of the steps was deliberate, circling her position.
"Who's there?"
Agnes shouted and prepared to casting a spell to defend herself.
"Ventus Telum!"
She cast a wind bullet, sending it hurtling toward the source of the sound.
The spell hit the roof of a nearby house with a loud *bang*, but nothing else happened.
Agnes held her breath, listening intently for any sign of movement.
"Boo!"
"Kyaaaa!"
Oz's face suddenly appeared from behind her. She was shocked to see his goofy and exaggerated expression. Agnes screamed and fell backward, landing hard on the ground.
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! That's not funny, Oz!"
Agnes exclaimed, rubbing her sore backside.
"Muehehehe. You're the one who started it first. Why were you shooting spells in my direction? Anyway, where's everyone else?"
Oz asked, casually dusting off his coat as if nothing had happened.
Agnes scowled at him, her cheeks flushing with irritation.
"I don't know! They just left me behind all of a sudden!"
"*Sigh.* And here I was thinking I could share a lead. Never mind, I'll handle it myself. Bye."
Without a second thought, Oz waved her off and started walking away.
"Hey! Don't just leave me here!"
Agnes shouted, scrambling to her feet.
"Why are you following me? Go find your group. Shoo, shoo. I don't have any bones for you."
Oz said, dismissively waving her off like she was a stray dog.
"I don't need bones! And for the record, I'm a wolf lycanthrope, not a dog!"
"Sit. Give me your hand. Good girl. Here, have a treat."
Oz teased, his tone dripping with mockery.
Before she realized what she was doing, Agnes instinctively sat down and extended her hand, just as he instructed.
"Thanks… It's delicious… Wait! Why did I follow your command?!"
Agnes, visibly annoyed, quickly moved behind Oz and began to choke him. Though she wasn't using enough strength to genuinely harm him.
"I give up! I give up! Can't breathe! *Blegh*! Please calm down! Here, take all the treats!"
Oz dug into his pockets and handed Agnes every last biscuit he had.
Despite her irritation, Agnes found herself munching on the biscuits without hesitation. Though she wouldn't admit it, the taste was good.
As they continued their walk through the dimly lit streets, Agnes finished off all the biscuits.
"Hmm, these are really good. What brand are these biscuits?"
Agnes licking the crumbs off her fingers.
"I don't know. I don't pay attention to dog biscuit brands. I brought them because I visited two dogs at the shop earlier."
Agnes froze mid-step, staring at Oz in disbelief.
"…Oz! I regret not choking you with all my strength earlier," she muttered, her voice laced with frustration.
"Save your energy for something else. We're almost at ground zero for this whole mess," Oz replied, gesturing ahead.
The duo arrived at an abandoned factory. Under Stellarkeep's artificially lit night sky, the building loomed in the distance, its rusted framework and broken windows giving it an eerie presence. Part of the roof had collapsed, and debris was scattered around the perimeter.
"What kind of factory is that?" Agnes asked, wrinkling her nose at the sight.
"Take out the nose plugs you've been using. Then you'll know exactly what kind of place it is. Muehehe."
Agnes hesitated but eventually removed the nose plugs she'd been wearing. Almost immediately, a foul stench assaulted her senses, causing her to gag violently.
"Blegh! What the hell is with this place!? It smells like there are hundreds of dead bodies in there!"
"Not far off," Oz said casually.
"According to a refugee I spoke to earlier, all the missing persons from the slums are being held inside this warehouse."
Agnes swallowed hard, trying to push back the nausea.
"Let's play a quiz," Oz said with a smirk.
"How has a place like this gone unnoticed by the authorities for so long?"
"A spell? No, that wouldn't work for 24 hours a day... Then it must be an inside job," Agnes deduced.
"Ding ding! Correct! This is one of Stellarkeep's dirty secrets. A blood celestite factory!"
Agnes's face turned pale. Though she'd never seen blood celestite herself, she had read enough about it to understand its horrifying implications.
"We need to report this to the police immediately!" she said, her voice shaking.
"And what would that accomplish?" Oz replied with a dry laugh.
"You'd just end up getting arrested for trespassing on private property. Odds are, this place belongs to one of the nobles."
Agnes hesitated, she faltering as the gravity of the situation sank in.
"Hey! Where are you going?!"
She shouted as Oz started climbing the chain-link fence surrounding the factory.
"I'm going inside, obviously. That's been the plan all along," he replied back without looking at her.
"Wait for me!" Agnes reluctantly following his lead.
The two climbed over the fence with ease. Once inside, they approached a heavy metal door that stood out against the otherwise decrepit structure.
Unlike the rest of the factory, the door looked recently polished, and the area around it was clean, almost too clean.
*Kreeeeek*
The sound of the door opening echoed through the empty corridors.
Inside, the factory looked surprisingly well-maintained. The floors were spotless, and the machinery appeared functional.
"Ah, great. Stay away from me. You're so annoying," Oz muttered suddenly.
"I am not!" Replied Agnes, she furious at Oz.
"Not you. Them," he said, pointing upward.
Agnes followed his gaze to the ceiling beams where several figures were perched, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim light.
"Hi, kids. Are you lost? This isn't a playground."
A man with sickly pale yellowish skin stepping forward. Behind him, more figures emerged, all of them have the same skin.
"Grrrrr! Vampires!"
Agnes growled, her instincts kicking in.
Without hesitation, she bolted toward the man, her hand glowing as she prepared to cast a spell.
"Lycantropus Partialis: Claw!"
Agnes's nails elongated into sharp claws, shimmering faintly under the dim, artificial light in the factory.
With a ferocious growl, she leaped toward the pale-skinned man.
Her strikes were swift and relentless, each swipe tearing into him into piecies. The man collapsed under her brutal assault, his limbs twisted and mangled.
Lycanthropes, by their very nature, despised undead creatures. It was their instinct.
The moment Agnes caught the scent of undeath, the fight was inevitable.
"Hahaha, die, you vampire!"
Agnes shouted, her voice dripping with fury.
Her claws dripped with dark, thick blood, but her mind was clouded by the adrenaline and bloodlust coursing through her veins.
She wasn't thinking clearly anymore, she was simply acting on pure instinct.
But as she stood over the broken man, something strange happened.
The other vampires in the room didn't charge at her. They didn't even look angry. Instead, they all started laughing.
"Hahahaha."
"Hahahahaha."
"Hahahahahaha."
Their collective laughter echoed off the steel walls of the factory, filling the space with an unnerving, almost mocking atmosphere.
Agnes froze, her eyes darting to each of them, confusion and unease settling in her chest.
"Agnes, come here! Fetch! Good girl!" Oz's voice rang out.
Without even realizing what she was doing, Agnes turned toward him, catching the object he threw her way and carrying it over to him.
"Argh! How many times do I have to tell you not to treat me like a pet?!"
She snapped, throwing the object—a small metal flask—at his feet.
"Relax, Agnes. Look at the guy you just attacked."
She turned her gaze back to the man on the floor.
His body, though clearly mutilated, was still moving. Twisted limbs twitched and shifted, as if trying to reconnect themselves.
Agnes's stomach turned as she watched pieces of his flesh crawl back to their original positions.
"What? Since when do vampires have a skill like that?"
—Of course they don't. That's not even a vampire. That's a ghoul. They are human who failed to turn into a vampire and ended up like… that.
Now that her bloodlust had faded, the reality of the situation hit her like a truck.
She looked around and realized how outnumbered they were. There weren't just a few enemies, there were dozens.
"What the… How many of them are there?!"
Her face turned sour, panic creeping into her voice.
Oz smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos.
"I don't know. Definitely more than one."
Despite their dire situation, Oz was still able to joke like that.
Agnes's nose twitched as she caught the scent of decay. Her heightened senses kicked in, and she quickly assessed the room.
There were at least 40 ghouls, their figures emerging from the shadows and from behind crates and machinery. Each one had the same pale, lifeless skin and hungry eyes.
"This is insane," Agnes muttered at the horrors in the front of her.