The massive double doors of the Guildmaster's office loomed ahead, ornate but shielded by layers of protective arrays. The hallway was quiet, the whispers of onlookers fading the moment The Ghost walked past.
Kael stopped before the entrance.
Click.
He openned the doors.
Inside, behind a desk of blackstone and reinforced crystal, sat Dren Volkar, Guildmaster of Myrefall. A thick stack of files lay to one side, a warm mug of steaming blackleaf tea on the other. The man's expression was as calm and unreadable as ever, though his eyes, sharpened by decades of danger, glinted with amusement when they rose to meet the mask.
«Ah, Ghost,» Dren said smoothly. «Right on time, as always.»
Kael stepped inside silently, allowing the door to seal behind him.
«No dramatics this time?» Dren smirked, gesturing toward the space in front of the desk. «I half expected you to throw another corpse into the office.»
Kael tilted his head slightly, the white mask hiding the faint curve of his lips. «I thought I'd give the janitors a break.»
«Very considerate of you.»
Dren set the mug down and reached into a drawer. He pulled out a reinforced coin pouch, visibly weighed down with silver, gold, and the rarer cerium tokens used for high-value hunter transactions.
«Payment,» he said, tossing it with a soft clink onto the desk. «For the… hundreds of ant Voidkin you dumped into the hall like someone emptying a sack of potatoes.»
Kael stepped forward and accepted the pouch, the weight of it pressing reassuringly against his palm.
«It's more than expected,» Kael said, after checking the contents with a quiet flick of perception magic.
«You killed over two hundred corrupted Void ants, single-handedly, in the same day you beat a Cursed-class Breeder to death. Honestly, I should be charging you for the panic you caused.»
Dren sipped from his tea and added dryly, «One woman fainted. Another proposed to your mask. And some poor intern is still writing the incident report.»
Kael didn't respond, but the slight tilt of his head suggested amusement.
Dren leaned back in his chair, folding his hands.
«Most hunters would retire for a month after a mission like that. Maybe take a vacation. Enjoy the fruits of their work.»
Kael was silent.
Dren sighed dramatically. «And yet here you are, back before breakfast's cold. So…» He eyed the mask. «Dare I ask? Are you looking for another job already?»
Kael nodded once. «If there's anything worth doing.»
«Of course there is,» Dren muttered. «The dangerous ones never rest.»
He pulled a thin red file from a locked drawer beneath the desk, placing it gently on the table.
«No formal request yet. No commission. This is… more delicate.»
Kael stepped closer, eyeing the unmarked folder.
Dren opened it.
Inside were photos, reports, scraps of notes and symbols drawn hastily by shaky hands.
«We've confirmed the existence of a cult,» Dren said, voice low now. «A group that worships the Void. Not just as a destructive force, but as a god. A source of purity. They believe emotions, attachment, even humanity itself are diseases. And the Void? The cure.»
Kael's fingers twitched slightly.
Dren continued, voice clipped. «They're calling themselves the Children of the Hollow Flame. No centralized location. No known leader. All our info so far has come from intercepted chatter, disappearances, and two recovered symbols at the sites of minor Void rifts.»
He slid one sketch across the desk.
A twisting spiral surrounded by small dots, reminiscent of a pupil… or a screaming mouth.
«They're using some kind of method to open tiny rifts,» Dren explained. «The good news is, the rifts are weak. Easily suppressed by standard mage teams. But the bad news…»
He paused, tapping the symbol with his knuckle.
«…is that they're testing something. Planning. We don't know how. Or why. But this isn't random Voidkin spawning. This is controlled. Ritualistic. Coordinated.»
Kael remained silent.
Dren met his masked gaze.
«We need intel. Anything. Sightings. Contacts. Rumors. Cultists. If you find something that helps us understand them, who they are, how they operate, you'll be rewarded accordingly.»
Kael nodded. «What level of discretion?»
«Absolute,» Dren said firmly. «Do not engage unless necessary. If they learn we're on to them, they'll scatter like rats. For now… sniff them out. Track their trail.»
Kael took the file, sliding it into his storage with a flick of mana.
Dren raised an eyebrow. «No sudden teleportation?»
Kael shrugged. «You're the one giving me all the work. Literally my boss, how can I show off too much and ruin your image»
The Guildmaster laughed. «Touché.»
Somewhere Unknown
Far from Myrefall, beyond the protection of the city's wards, across a cracked and lifeless plain, a red rift shimmered in the air like a tear in space. The wind howled around it, unnaturally cold despite the burning heat that radiated from within.
Before the rift stood a group of hooded figures, cloaked in black robes etched with the spiral symbol seen in Dren's files.
They knelt in unison, surrounding a grotesque stone statue, a malformed beast with writhing limbs and a hollow flame where its heart should be.
One of the cultists rose, hands raised high as if embracing the sky.
«The Hollow watches,» he intoned. «The Flame speaks. The Silence approaches.»
A low growl echoed from the rift.
Not human.
Not animal.
It was hunger made sound.
The cultist turned toward the others, and from beneath his hood, his voice carried a twisted joy.
«The god beneath the Nothing stirs,» he whispered. «We must prepare. It will not be long now.»
The rift pulsed again, growing slightly wider.
And for a brief moment, a slitted eye appeared within its depths.
Watching.
Waiting.