Part 1
The Old Artist District had a different charm in the daytime. Sunlight filtering through the gaps between old buildings highlighted the faded graffiti and dusty windows, creating a melancholic, nostalgic atmosphere. However, for Kael and Rina, the district now felt like a giant crime scene, every corner seeming to hold an invisible emotional echo.
The car stopped in front of an old, three-story brick building that looked more dilapidated than its neighbors. Its windows were covered with wooden boards, and its thick oak front door was shut tight with a rusty padlock. Above the door, a barely legible nameplate read: "Volkov Atelier."
"This is the place," Rina said softly, her voice sounding slightly different. She looked at the building as if seeing a ghost from her past. "I... haven't been here in a long time. Not since... the funeral."
Kael could sense Rina's hesitation. "We don't have to do this if you're not ready."
Rina shook her head, straightening her shoulders. "No. This is a mission. And... I need to know, too."
She stepped forward and unlocked the old padlock with one of the keys from the Order. The heavy wooden door opened with a long, sorrowful creak, as if complaining about its disturbed slumber. The air from inside the studio immediately hit them—the distinct smell of dried oil paint, turpentine, and dust that had settled for years.
They stepped inside, and the door closed behind them, swallowing them into the silence and dim light.
The studio was vast, with high ceilings and large windows that were now boarded up. Canvases of various sizes leaned against the walls, some finished, some still charcoal sketches. Brushes of all sizes were neatly arranged in clay jars, now covered in a thick layer of dust. This was an artist's temple, a sacred place frozen in time.
"Wow…" Kael murmured, captivated by the atmosphere of the place. He could feel the strong emotional echoes here—the passion, frustration, joy, and despair of Vincent Volkov.
Rina walked slowly into the center of the room, her fingers touching the surface of a canvas covered with a white cloth. "When I was little, I used to spend a lot of time here," she said, her voice like a whisper. "Watching him paint. To him, this was his entire world."
She pulled off the white cloth, revealing a breathtakingly detailed painting of the Stellara cityscape, captured in the light of a sunset. The colors were so vibrant, the brushstrokes so full of emotion.
"He always said that every painting must have a soul," Rina continued. "Something I never understood."
Kael stepped closer. He didn't just see the painting; he felt it. He could feel the warmth of the sunset, the bustle of the city, and the painter's longing for beauty. "I... I can feel it, Rina. Its soul."
Rina looked at Kael with a surprised and complex expression. For the first time, someone could understand her father's world in a way she never could.
"We need to find clues about Grecia," Rina said, steering the conversation back to their mission. "According to the floor plan, there's a private study on the second floor."
They went up the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor. This floor was more personal, containing a small library with thick art books and a smaller study. It was here that they found it.
In a corner of the study, there was a smaller easel, clearly not Vincent's. On it, a small canvas was covered with the same white cloth. Around it were several neatly stacked sketchbooks and some colored pencils. This was Grecia's corner.
With a slightly trembling hand, Rina pulled the cloth off the canvas.
The painting on it was unfinished. It was a portrait of a woman with short black hair and a friendly smile—Commander Kirana, or rather, Ms. Arisa. But she was painted with wings of light on her back, like an angel. In the background, there were faint silhouettes of Kael and Rina themselves.
"This is..." Kael gasped. "How is this possible?"
This painting was clearly made recently, but how could it be in a studio that had been sealed for five years?
"Kael, Rina, what are you seeing?" Commander Kirana's voice came through their earpieces, likely sensing the change in their heart rates through the sensors.
"Commander… there's a painting here," Rina reported. "A painting of you. And us. It's unfinished."
A moment of silence on the other end. "That's impossible. That studio is completely sealed."
Kael touched the canvas. He felt a strong resonance. This wasn't an ordinary physical painting. It was… a spectral painting. A manifestation of Chroma's emotions.
"This isn't paint," Kael said. "This is an echo. Chroma… she's still connected to this place. She's still 'painting' here, even after becoming a Phantasm."
This place was her emotional anchor. And this painting was her current feelings—seeing the people around her as a family or guardian angels.
Just then, Rina saw something else. In the pile of sketchbooks, one book was different. It was Grecia's picture diary.
She opened it carefully. Its pages were filled with cheerful, childlike drawings. A drawing of Vincent painting, a drawing of Rina reading a book, a drawing of the three of them eating ice cream.
But further in, the drawings grew darker. The strokes became rougher. The colors became fewer.
On the last page, there was only one drawing. A picture of a little blue-haired girl lying in bed, looking pale and sick. Beside her, on an easel, was a painting, a portrait of a smiling Vincent. But the portrait was scribbled over with black crayon, as if it were a failure.
Beneath the drawing, there was a shaky handwriting.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I couldn't finish it. I wasn't good enough."
Rina shut the book quickly, her hands trembling. Tears began to well up in the corners of her usually cold eyes. The painful truth was now laid bare before her. Her adopted sister had died in despair, feeling like a failure. And her father… her father probably never knew how deeply his words had wounded Grecia.
Part 2
"Rina…" Kael said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Rina didn't answer, just looked down, her shoulders shaking. Her cold mask had finally cracked. All the emotions she had suppressed—the loss of her father, the faint memory of her sister, the guilt she had just realized—all of it came flooding out.
Suddenly, an alarm blared in their earpieces.
"Warning! Intruder at the building's perimeter!" an Order operator's panicked voice sounded. "Multiple energy signatures detected! They're… they're Crimson Hunt units!"
Kael and Rina snapped their heads up.
"Damn it! How did they know we were here!?" Rina cursed, quickly wiping her tears and switching back into agent mode.
An explosion was heard from the floor below. Clearly, Crimson Hunt had no intention of making a quiet entrance.
"Kael, take the diary! It's important evidence!" Rina ordered, drawing her energy pistol. "We have to get out of here!"
They ran down the stairs. The studio's front door had been blasted open, and several Crimson Hunt members in their black-and-red exoskeletons were already inside, weapons raised.
"Well, well, look who we found. A little Order agent and the Phantasm Tamer," one of them said, his voice distorted by his helmet. "Surrender quietly, and we might not destroy this gallery of memories."
"In your dreams," Rina hissed.
She immediately opened fire, forcing them to take cover behind the large canvases. Kael, who was unarmed, could only hide behind Rina, clutching Grecia's diary tightly.
"Is there another way out?" Kael asked amidst the gunfire.
"The back window! But we have to get past them!"
A fight began in the middle of the silent art temple. Rina moved with agility, using the stacks of canvases and furniture for cover, firing with precision. But the Crimson Hunt members outnumbered her. They began to surround them.
One of them managed to flank Rina and fired an energy net.
"Rina, watch out!"
Rina managed to dodge, but she lost her balance and fell. The Crimson Hunt member aimed his weapon at her.
Just at that moment, something unexpected happened.
The large canvas next to the Crimson Hunt member—Vincent Volkov's cityscape painting—suddenly rippled. From within the painting, a tendril made of spectral oil paint shot out and wrapped around the soldier's neck, choking him.
"What the hell!?" another soldier exclaimed, shocked.
The other paintings throughout the studio began to come to "life." Sketches became running shadow creatures, clay sculptures moved, and colors from dried paint palettes shot through the air like bullets.
The entire studio had become a Phantasm. The emotional echoes of Vincent Volkov and Grecia, triggered by the intruders' presence and Rina's strong emotions, had risen to protect their sacred place.
Kael stared in amazement. "This is… resonance… but not from me."
"It's the resonance of the place itself!" Rina said, taking advantage of the chaos to get back on her feet. "My father… he's protecting us."
Crimson Hunt was now overwhelmed, attacked from all sides by living art.
"Retreat! Retreat! This place is haunted!" their commander yelled.
In the midst of the chaos, Kael saw an opportunity. He grabbed Rina's hand. "Now! The back window!"
They ran through the battle between art and technology, towards the large window at the back of the studio. Rina shot out the glass, and they both jumped out, landing in the narrow alley behind the building, just as an Order backup team arrived at the front.
Panting, they looked back into the studio, where the "art ghosts" were still raging before slowly calming down after the intruders had left.
Kael looked at Rina, who was still in shock from what had just happened. "Your father… and Grecia… they're still here," Kael said softly.
Rina nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks again, but this time they weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of understanding.
Their mission wasn't over. They had found a painful truth, but they had also discovered that the bonds of family, even those long gone, could be an incredible source of strength.