The sun's rays were slowly fading away. Fatigue was etched all over Erik's face, but even with dark bags under his eyes carving craters, sleep still eluded him.

Seated in his mess-overtaken cabin with the falchion seated beside him, he squinted as a slender wisp of smoke rose from the interface, curling and dancing in the air.

The soldering process was a delicate task, and his hands were precise. An invaluable thin sheet of precious stone blended seamlessly into the chip compartment he was meddling with—embedding a touch of magic into the phone's circuits.

The dismantled components of Maya's phone were neatly laid out beside him. With a meticulous hand, he began reassembling them, one piece at a time. The modified chip, now flawlessly integrated into the phone, awaited only one thing—the battery.

As he gently slotted the battery into the phone's body, it sprang to life instantly. The screen fizzed and flickered, rebelling against the influx of the Mind Stone's power. But the newly installed bypass chip swiftly executed its runic script command, restoring harmony within the device.

Although this wasn't Erik's own technique, it was the first new cellular device he had integrated into his unique Mind Stone network. So far, his efforts appeared successful.

However, the task was not yet complete. The back cover remained detached, as he had further modifications in mind. Functional or for his own protection, analogue switches were yet to be installed.

The phone, now partially revived, sat next to him. Its screen displayed a nostalgic photograph of a youthful Maya with her parents. Or rather, a digital rendition of a painted portrait. The screen, however, flickered momentarily, spilling light, before it stabilized and signalled an incoming call.

The call was from 'Headmistress Lefebvre', the contact information pulled from the phone's directory.

Erik froze, feeling unsettled. Old wounds seemed to throb at the sight of the name. If Maya had indeed reported her phone missing, there was only one person Amanda would be hoping to reach with this call.

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'Two days have passed,' Maya clenched her fist in frustration.

There was still no call from Erik.

After her inner turmoil had settled, all that remained was a void—an unanswered longing to see him again that clouded her thoughts and unsettled her heart. That night now felt like a distant dream, with new questions only piling up in her mind.

'Had something happened to him?'

She worried—her mind conjuring his solitary figure against the backdrop of a monster-infested wilderness. The thought of his hideout being compromised because of them was a dreadful possibility she dared not entertain. His displayed abilities were undeniable, but a single man wouldn't last in an ambush that could have awaited him last night.

"Two days without as so much as a text… I think we should go look for him," Maya asserted with urgency.

Elena, lying sprawled on her bed, drummed her fingers on the old manuscript opened in front of her and absent-mindedly pressed her pen to her lips, engrossed in her own predicament. "Do you think I should text him to return my shirt?" Her unrelated question proved she wasn't listening to a word Maya had said. "It's a good excuse, don't you think?"

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Maya exhaled a weary sigh. "Haven't you tried that twice already?"

Elena's desperate attempts to nudge Keith into talking with her were proving futile. A lame excuse just wasn't going to cut it. Even if she were to come up with the perfect excuse, Keith may never talk to her again.

"Yes. But I didn't say it was urgent." Elena was grasping for straws.

"He's ignored all your messages so far. What difference would it make?"

Elena groaned and rolled to her back. "How do you get through to someone who's been avoiding you like a plague?" She turned to Maya with a pleading look. "Could you try talking to him again?"

Maya was exasperated. "He always says he's busy, Elena. Why must we have the same conversation over and over again?"

"And why must you whine about Mr. Dead-eyes over and over again?" Elena shot back.

"Aren't you worried?" Maya asked, but then remembered she was talking to Elena. "Or at least curious about the rest of the story?"

Elena dismissed the matter with a scoff, "Sorry for not missing the guy who literally wants to kill me."

Before Maya could formulate a counter, Leo suddenly appeared, his face riddled with apprehension as he grasped her shoulders. "Maya! What happened in the woods? Are you okay?"

Maya blinked, taking a moment to draw up the memory of her last encounter with Leo. He left her alone in the dark. Her only guide and source of solace vanished abruptly. So much had unfolded since then, it felt like a distant past, and any resentment she might've harboured seemed irrelevant now.

"Oh," Maya didn't match his frantic state and responded leisurely. "You left me at the most crucial time, but don't worry. Erik kept me safe."

"Erik? Who's that?" Leo was evidently perplexed, completely out of the loop.

Elena erupted into laughter. While she couldn't see or hear him, she easily deduced Leo's state of confusion from Maya's seemingly one-sided conversation.

"I do pity you, Leo," she teased, her voice dancing with amusement. "It seems you've unexpectedly gotten yourself quite a fierce competition."

"Ah, Erik is…" Maya began, but quickly realized she wouldn't be able to condense it into a few words. She finally settled on, "…complicated."

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"Good evening, My Liege," the servants greeted Marcellus as he awoke from a long slumber in his opulent, windowless chamber.

The room, adorned with invaluable pieces of art and draped with the most exquisite fabrics, never suggested being deep underground, hidden within ancient city ruins. He looked at his subjects' faces grim with concern, eager to report their troubles but not daring to interrupt him as he went through his 'morning' routine.

It seemed his slumber was a long one.

The absence of the leader was troubling at the most needed time. Marcellus stood before the mirror as they dressed him in clothes the most fitting for someone of his apparent age. It was unfortunate, but his preferred appearance would make him stand out too much.

'Ah, the youth of today… They can't handle anything on their own nor comprehend what it takes to maintain such a youthful image.'

Annoyed by their impatient gazes, he sighed and inquired about the casualties. "How many?"

"Seven, Sire."

His eyes narrowed, "So our losses have long surpassed our latest gains." Another disappointed sigh escaped his lips. "Do I have to take the matter into my own hands? How are you having this much trouble with a single residue hunter? He doesn't even have a partner!"

"My Liege, he wasn't alone this time. He had help," came the cautious response.

"Help?" Marcellus questioned, his eyebrows arching in intrigue. "Are remnants coming to crack down on Amellan?"

"No, Sire. His allies weren't hunters."

"Oh?" Marcellus became curious. "Then who could it be to prove this troublesome for you?"

"A young witch and… a fledgling."

"A fledgling?" Marcellus was visibly taken aback.

"A ferocious one," the servant continued, "She had severely injured at least as many as he killed."

"A fledgling working with a hunter…" Marcellus mused aloud, his mind baffled by such a possibility.

"That is still uncertain, Sire. Initially, he seemed intent on killing her, but they began cooperating when our forces cornered them."

Marcellus scoffed. "So it is your incompetence that turned a youngling against us!? Ahh… No matter… If she still lives, this could still turn into our advantage."

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