Three days passed in the blink of an eye. The sun stood high in the sky, marking the day of the Elysian Glow, the day of gold, the day of the gods, on the 11th of Astra, 1613 after AORB. Or rather, now that the old calendar system had been changed due to the broken contract with the Red-Bloods, today was the 11th of Astra, 0 after Astarion, a day named in honor of Astarion, the most powerful of the Gold-Bloods, the gods. He was the one who had brought about the rupture of the contract. The sky was turquoise, lighter with a blue hue. The air was clear, and the clouds were nowhere to be seen.
Elliot went about his day and his work, but there had been no noticeable progress in the disappearance of the men. At night, he spent time with the old man, learning more about his past as well as gaining further insight into certain powers of the Blood Paths. In Elliot's visions, as a god in the bodies of others, nothing particularly remarkable occurred. Fynn, the yellow one, had yet to awaken. Only the green and blue lights flickered brightly. Eriksson sat on the train, staring off into the distance, while Aston occasionally injected himself with orange-colored blood. And now, Elliot found himself once again with Pillar, after receiving the 3 Cont and 4 Celi from the Blue Sharks.
"The first week of this month is already over, since yesterday, isn't it... Elliot?" Pillar asked, looking at him thoughtfully, his fingers intertwined. "Then, I suppose I should give you the 6 Celi I promised. But don't spend it all at once, alright?" Pillar smiled gently at him, his chin resting on his interlaced fingers.
Six Celi—it wasn't much, but at least I can buy a little more food for myself, Elliot thought as he gazed at the bronze coins, which depicted the image of a beautiful young woman. A bell rang as he left through the door, bidding Pillar farewell.
The weather today felt different, somehow. The fog had lifted, and it was warmer than usual, enough to keep my upper body from shivering. And that magnificent blue sun—it was truly a beautiful sight. So blue, with a hint of white inside, yet the rays shining outside were so distinctly blue. The light seemed to jump right into me. No, it wasn't just the sun. The entire world felt so impossibly beautiful. The street, the carriages, the passersby, the towering spires that seemed to stretch higher than anything else. The even higher churches or towers, standing here and there, sometimes alone but often in clusters. The bakery with the scent of fresh bread wafting through the air—it made its way into my nostrils. The puddles left from the night, the clear turquoise-blue sky cutting sharply into my eyes. Everything here was so perfect.
Elliot smiled as he looked around, his mouth slightly open, his jaw slack. His pupils were wide, his irises overwhelmed by the sheer beauty around him. The scent, the splendor! Her delicate skin, her soft, flawless white skin. Her smooth, silky hair cascading down her shoulders. Exquisite, and blue. Her hair was so stunning, perfectly matching her blue, tight dress that accentuated her curves. I think I might go mad! How could such beauty be walking here alone?! Her blue nails, the beautiful silver jewelry on her left hand, her graceful gaze—it was all so perfect!
Driven by his desire, Elliot moved closer to the elegant young woman. No! No, I can't approach her like this. I can't be so forward with her, her flawless beauty... I must... I must approach her with grace! But, but if I do that, she'll vanish! No! No! No!!!
A fierce grimace spread across Elliot's face. His hands reached up to tug at his blonde hair, pulling it in frustration. He struck his own head with his fists, the pressure mounting as he tried to suppress the surge of emotion. His teeth ground together, threatening to crack under the tension. Yet, in the blink of an eye, a smile formed on his lips. Dimples creased his cheeks as he turned his gaze toward the eccentric, flawless woman who had now seated herself on a secluded bench nearby.
She looked so serene, her figure standing out against the calm surroundings. Elliot's heart raced, a torrent of conflicting emotions raging within him. His mind flickered, lost in the conflict between his desire to claim her and the awareness that such beauty might slip through his grasp if he moved too hastily. He knew he had to be careful, to approach with the perfect balance of desire and restraint. The kind of grace he lacked in moments like this.
Yet, his body betrayed him. His heart pounded as he stood still, his eyes locked on her every move. She is perfection, he thought again. The way she carried herself, as if the world was her domain, made him ache with longing. His hands trembled, and he clenched his fists to stop them from betraying his emotions. The internal battle raged, a constant reminder of the obsession that clawed at him.
For a moment, he stood frozen, watching her as if entranced. His mind was spinning, and every fiber of his being screamed for him to act. But he resisted, for now.
Patience, he told himself. He had to be patient, he reminded himself over and over. It was the only way to possess something so rare. He had to maintain control. But even as he forced himself to step back, he could feel the burning desire within him. It would never subside; it could only grow.
As he lingered there, caught in the chaos of his emotions, a strange sense of calm overcame him. The world seemed to stretch in front of him, allowing him to see it in its entirety, every detail heightened by his overwhelming feelings. The sky, the buildings, the streets—they all seemed to fade into the background, and all that mattered was her.
Elliot finally exhaled, his breath shaky, but his resolve stronger than before. He would wait, plan, and then approach with precision. This time, he wouldn't let her slip away. He wouldn't be the fool again.
With a last glance, he turned on his heel and walked away, his mind still fixated on the beautiful vision he had just witnessed. And though he left the scene, the desire he felt for her would linger in his mind, burning brightly as he plotted his next move.
Her bright blue eyes shone as they gazed into the distance, her soft, bluish lips curving gracefully across her face. Her skin shimmered with an enchanting blue hue, her posture elegant and poised. I could die right here! Jackpot! Elliot's eyes darted to a nearby barbershop—the one William and I visited just three days ago. He hurried toward it, trying to appear composed, turning his face slightly so as not to be recognized.
"Quick, quick! I need a new look!" Elliot's voice was strained, his hand tossing six bronze Celi coins, along with three Cont and four Celi, onto the barber's table. The barber, barely glancing up, ran his fingers through his thick mustache, then reached for his scissors with a heavy sigh.
...
Minutes ticked by—fifteen, perhaps—and Elliot was done. His stubbled beard was gone. His hair, once unkempt and greasy, was now sleek and fresh. He gazed proudly at his reflection in the mirror, his hair combed neatly to the side, looking a few years younger. The grime from yesterday had vanished. Okay, now I can face her. But as he caught sight of his reflection, his heart plummeted, and his pulse quickened. No! No! No! Elliot shouted, clenching his fists in frustration.
The woman—the beautiful woman with the long blue hair—was gone.
No, no, no, where is she? His thoughts became incoherent, muttering as his legs propelled him forward. He sprinted out of the barbershop, the barber standing dumbfounded. Hair scattered on the floor, the barber's gaze following him, his voice trailing off. "Why does everyone always run away? I've earned at least two Cont in tips over the past few days, not that I mind it…"
...
Elliot ran, faster and faster, his pupils dilating, his face twisted in panic. He reached for his hair as though to tear it out but restrained himself. Instead, he ran, moving with a frantic speed, until he reached an alleyway where Joe Hillinger had vanished days ago. There, just as before, Elliot's presence seemed to dissolve into the air—he vanished as if the earth had swallowed him whole.
...
On the continent of the Violet Seas, amid the chaos of an imperial battlefield, between the yellow and violet factions, at outpost 2456, Fynn slowly awoke. His eyes flickered open, blinking against the blinding cyan light of the sky. Too bright. Too intense. Where am I? He sprang to his feet, only to be halted by a sharp pain in his eye and leg. Groaning, he touched his left eye, recoiling at the emptiness he felt there. He glanced around desperately, but the pain overwhelmed him.
What happened? Damn it, my eye… He staggered back, his heart pounding. He could barely breathe, his thoughts fragmented. The emptiness in his eye socket was cold and unfamiliar. When he looked down, he saw it: his eye, a bright red like a ruby, now covered in yellowish blood. It's my eye! And my leg is… pierced. How? Why?
Fynn's breath came in rapid, shallow gasps as he tried to understand the situation. Then, a hand gently but firmly landed on his shoulder. Despite the warmth, the touch sent another wave of pain through him.
"Well, kid, it's a miracle you're still breathing!" The voice was deep and strong, the laughter unmistakable. It was the man who had carried him here, though Fynn didn't recognize him. I don't remember anything… The only thing that lingered was a voice, distorted, echoing like a brand in his mind.
God of Creation… He saved me. He protected me. But… a god? Fynn's mind raced, struggling to understand. He looked up, still disoriented, his skin pale and faintly yellow, his vision weak. The man above him loomed large, his silhouette casting a shadow over Fynn, and despite the pain, Fynn couldn't help but notice the figure's immense size—almost as tall as the walls that seemed to stretch into the sky. His legs trembled, but the man's voice cut through the confusion.
"Kid, you'll make it. Just believe. Believe in yourself. And only in yourself." His voice was booming, full of conviction, his laughter resounding as Fynn's fading consciousness finally gave in, his eyelids fluttering closed.
...
Back at Fring Street 95, the headquarters of the Blue Sharks, William and Elton hurried through the streets. Chris and Elisia had stayed behind at the agency, in case any new assignments came in. Elton turned to William, his brow furrowed. "How many jobs have we gotten in just the last three days? Over ten?" His face was puzzled, filled with concern.
William only nodded, "And we've found nothing. It's as if people are literally vanishing into thin air."
Elton's stomach dropped. "You don't mean…?"
William responded coldly, "The Browns…"
Elton's face paled at the mention of the group. His voice grew tight with frustration. "How can this be? Everything's falling apart! Since the contract was broken, everything's spiraling out of control. These… blues, they think they're better than us. They think they can bring back our wings, so we can fly once more. Then our captain, Bill, is dead. Our ally, the Goddess of Night, is gone. Without him, we're lost. And now, now people keep disappearing… What in the name of the gods is happening here?!"
Elton vented his anger loudly, his voice breaking the otherwise eerie silence. William didn't respond. He simply kept walking, his eyes lowered. Their usual camaraderie was gone, replaced by a tense quiet. The once familiar streets now felt strange and ominous.
As they passed by, memories of times spent with Elliot resurfaced. But now, William and Elton were patrolling the streets, haunted by the disappearance of more and more people. Their eyes widened when they spotted a familiar figure: the barber.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," the barber called, his voice low and measured, "but your friend is also missing. The blonde one—he was similar to a redhead in his appearance."
William and Elton's pulses quickened, their hearts sinking at the thought of what this might mean. They exchanged a brief glance, understanding without words.