They weren't ordinary chairs. Each was made of metal plated in gold, carved with detailed symbols, as if each one represented a different domain of power. And on the backrest of every chair was a distinct symbol:

* The first bore a skull, with two crossed swords behind it. A mark that radiated menace and bloodshed.

* The second showed a fox with three eyes, its gaze cunning and sharp, as if it could pierce through the soul.

* The third depicted a coiled dragon with broken wings, a symbol that hinted at strength tainted by tragedy.

* The fourth displayed a single eye engulfed in blue flames.

* The last chair bore a silver-winged raven, its beak clutching a broken chain.

The five chairs stood with regal grace, empty yet heavy with presence. As if each one held a long history and dark secrets.

Alaric stood frozen. "What is this place, really?"

And in that moment, he began to understand something. All this time, he had imagined the people behind it all as filthy criminals hiding in ruins, running their dirty business from the shadows. But the truth was far more sinister. This building, these symbols, the sheer level of detail. It all pointed to one thing: they were people of status. People in power, hiding their true faces behind layers of illusion.

Alaric clenched his fist. "If this is what I'm up against, I'll need to be more careful. Much more careful."

He stood in silence, staring at the empty thrones. Then, quietly, he spoke to himself.

"I know what I have to do."

His face grew serious, his eyes sharp with focus. And slowly, a small smile formed at the corner of his lips. A faint, unreadable smile. Not one of joy, but of resolve. Clear and unshakable.

----

Soon enough, they were back in Alaric's car, the engine humming softly as the view outside the windshield began to blur.

Alaric kept one hand on the steering wheel, while the other gently tapped the gear shift, following the rhythm of his thoughts as they churned. But in the midst of his contemplation, he still managed to glance at the boy. "Where's your house?" he asked.

Fery, sitting in the passenger seat, turned slightly. "It's not far from the campus," he replied.

Alaric smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Don't call me 'sir.' Just call me Alaric."

Fery fell silent for a moment before nodding. "Okay... Alaric," he said, his voice still a bit awkward. But somehow, saying the name felt different now, like he had just found a new way to refer to someone who was slowly becoming closer.

The car continued smoothly along the road, passing through quieter streets that weren't as crowded as they had been earlier in the day. The lights from shops and stores were starting to go out, leaving behind only a few small kiosks and coffee stalls still open.

The interior of the car was silent, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the rush of wind sneaking in through the cracked window. Fery occasionally glanced outside, his mind a tangled mess of emotions: relief that someone was standing by his side, but also anxiety over what they would face next.

Alaric, though his face seemed calm, was filled with thoughts of plans and strategies. He had already mapped out alternative routes, tactics, even extreme measures. He was thinking ahead, determined to find a way to strike at the syndicate's weakest point.

A few minutes later, the car slowed down. Fery pointed to a simple house on the side of the road. "That's my house," he said, gesturing with his finger.

Alaric glanced over, then nodded. He pulled up and stopped right in front of the small gate. Fery unbuckled his seatbelt, his hand hesitating before he opened the door. He turned to look at Alaric one more time, his eyes full of unspoken words, but not a single one left his lips.

Alaric merely nodded briefly and gave a small smile, his expression calm and quiet. There were no long goodbyes, no clichéd parting words. As soon as Fery stepped out, Alaric quietly shut the door and hit the gas pedal. The car quickly sped away, leaving the boy standing in front of his house, watching the taillights of the vehicle fade around the corner.

Behind the wheel, Alaric's gaze sharpened, staring into the darkness of the road ahead. He already knew what his next move would be. The path he had chosen was risky, but this time, he wasn't about to back down.

Alaric stood tall in the center of the grand hall, the crystal above his head catching the light and casting sharp reflections across his face. His hand was raised to eye level, fingers steady with concentration.

With a subtle motion of his index finger, he began tracing patterns on the floating interface before him. Thin, glowing blue lines followed each of his movements, forming a sequence of intricate code. It was as if he were writing with invisible white ink—unseen by others, but shining clearly in his own view.

"Code active," he murmured, his senses sharpening.

The glowing lines eventually locked into a circular symbol, its interior filled with a complex web of paths. Like a digital mandala. As the symbol finalized, several previously formed orbs spun once, then shattered into a three-dimensional holographic map. The projection hovered in the air, revealing the vast layout of an immense structure.

Alaric narrowed his eyes. "This… looks like a labyrinth."

It was a blueprint so complex, it would be impossible to memorize with an ordinary human mind. Dozens of corridors, numerous chambers both large and small, all crisscrossing like the web of a giant spider. Every path was a potential trap for anyone without guidance.

He moved his hand again, zooming in on the western section, then the northern part. His eyes scanned every detail. "If they're hiding the original identities, it has to be in one of the core rooms. But there are too many. I can't check them all one by one."

Biting his lower lip, he let out a slow breath. "Manual analysis won't be enough. I need the system."

Without hesitation, Alaric connected his mind to the AI core embedded within him. His vision trembled slightly, his pupils reflecting a faint violet light. A sign that the sync had begun. The previously static holographic map began to shimmer, its lines lighting up one by one as if being re-scanned in real time.

A soft humming filled his ears, perceptible only to him. Data surged forward. The system began filtering out rooms that might hold more than just luxurious furniture.

Seconds later, three red dots appeared on the map. They pulsed gently, like a heartbeat.

Alaric leaned in, his gaze locked on the projection. "Three…"

Almost immediately, two of the dots flared brighter, shifting to a deep violet hue. The third flickered erratically, its signal unstable, as if only partially detected, partially hidden.

"Two confirmed, but the last one… that's odd." Alaric frowned. He stepped back, trying to get a clearer view of the entire layout. The map still hovered in midair, visible only to his eyes, as if projected onto an invisible screen built into his retina.

Crossing his arms, he considered. "Those two are definite targets. But that third one… why is it flickering like that? Like interference."

He couldn't take his eyes off the blinking point. Each flicker felt like a warning. The system almost never returned an ambiguous signal. Usually, there were only two results, valid or invalid. But this one was different.

Alaric took a long breath, his expression sharpening. "This could be a trap… or it's the real key they've hidden so carefully."

He chose not to act rashly. Slowly, he lowered his hand, leaving the hologram suspended in the air. But in his mind, the gears of analysis continued to spin.

He stepped forward again, his footsteps echoing faintly against the cold, polished floor. The holographic map, which had previously dominated his vision. Now shrank into a small transparent panel floating beside his left eye, clear enough to guide him, yet unobtrusive.

He sighed quietly. "How easy it would be… if life could just rely on systems. Just follow the indicators, and I'd reach the goal without ever needing to think."

One by one, he moved down the long corridors. Occasionally, he glanced at the doors on either side. Some were made of carved mahogany, others of reinforced metal with golden inlays. Curiosity tugged at him. What could be hidden behind those doors? Weapons collections? Ancient artifacts? Or maybe lavish entertainment rooms for the upper-class masterminds of this syndicate?

But Alaric quickly reined himself in. "Don't get distracted. Don't waste time chasing shadows. Focus, Alaric," he muttered to himself.

He counted each step silently. One room… two rooms… nine already passed. The deeper he went, the thicker the air felt—like a veil of unseen mist brushing against his skin.

Then, just as he was about to pass the next room, the holographic panel beside his eye pulsed once. Its glow dimming and flashing briefly. A soft ringing filled his ear, like a needle piercing the air.

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