The detective drew on his pipe with a mild smile. "No problem. I'll do my best. I've worked with Mr. Zeruel before, after all."
"Thank you!"
The boy bowed again with genuine gratitude and hurried out.
"Please, have a seat, miss."
The old detective smiled, and added offhandedly: "The child's guardian has gone missing. He's asked me to find them." He paused. "Oh — I haven't introduced myself. Eisinger Stanton, detective." Then, with those blue eyes fixed on Klein, he asked: "What brings you to see me?"
Klein gave a sweet smile. "Detective, I'd like you to investigate someone for me."
"That's very much in my wheelhouse."
"He's a Loen prince. His name is Edsak."
"Oh?"
Detective Eisinger drew a slow pull from his pipe, raising an eyebrow.
Klein looked mildly sheepish. "The truth is, I met the prince at a ball and would like to… pursue things further. So I'd like to know his personality, his interests, what he does in his private life — and most importantly, whether he really is who he appears to be."
Detective Eisinger nodded thoughtfully. "I understand completely." He took the pipe from his mouth and tapped it lightly on the table. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. I'm just a detective who does the job and collects the fee."
"And what would the fee be?"
The great detective considered. "Given that this involves a member of the royal family, the starting rate is one hundred pounds. Any complications that arise will be billed separately."
"How much?"
Klein almost shot out of his seat — he thought he'd misheard.
One hundred pounds just to investigate a person?
Back in Tingen, one hundred pounds had been close to seven or eight months' salary.
Inwardly, Klein felt a sharp pang of professional envy. As a Clairvoyant, with the Grey Fog to amplify my divination, if I worked as a detective I'd be twice as effective at half the effort!
Deep breath. It's reimbursable anyway.
He reluctantly counted out ten ten-pound notes and laid them on the coffee table. "Then I'll be in your hands, Detective."
Klein gave a small nod, turned, and walked out.
Detective Eisinger watched her go, tucked the pipe back in the corner of his mouth, pocketed the money, and shook his head with a weary sigh. "Honestly, detective work is getting harder and harder to stomach these days! One case involves the Intisian ambassador, and now it's a Loen prince. I'd much rather take commissions from nobles looking for lost cats and dogs — good money, no danger, and everyone ends up happy."
Just as he was thinking this, there was another knock at the door.
He walked over and opened it. On the step stood a girl in a black dress, expression tense, biting her lip. "Are you Detective Eisinger? I have something I'd like your help with."
Melissa pressed her lips together and said softly: "I'd like you to find someone."
"Of course. Who?"
"His name is Derlyn. He's a prominent lawyer. He disappeared about a month ago."
...
Vincent was unconscious for a full day and a night.
When he came around, every inch of his body ached. He felt like he'd been hit head-on by a cement truck, shattered into pieces, then someone had collected the fragments and jammed them back together — badly.
He was technically still alive. Though he felt like he'd already died.
"I swear," he said, "I am never using that accursed Ambition State again."
He spent another half hour flat on the floor before gritting his teeth and forcing himself upright. "And this is using your Sequence 3 body. If it were a regular Sequence 6, wouldn't they just drop dead on the spot?"
Bernadette said coolly: "A regular Sequence 6 also couldn't have put out that kind of power. You've seen mid-Sequence Beyonders — even strong ones — in front of me are basically infants."
Fair enough.
Even Mr. A — all it had taken was one Spear of Longinus.
That was Bernadette, touched by Roselle's "blessing," wielding Mystical Re-enactment abilities far beyond what a typical Clairvoyant demigod could manage.
And those abilities, now, Vincent could theoretically also—
"What the—?"
Vincent scrambled to his feet. "She took the spirituality control back? Are you kidding me?! Burning the bridge as soon as we're across, huh? After Nine-Tails and Naruto's joint attack, Nine-Tails didn't take the chakra access back, did he?!"
"..."
Bernadette wasn't entirely sure if he was yelling at her or at the spirituality itself.
She was quiet for a moment, then said: "After what happened this time, if we run into danger again, you should be able to get access much faster."
"So it strictly has to involve danger? I can't just get to experience what it's like to stomp weak enemies the way you do?"
"You can."
"Really?"
Bernadette smiled slightly. "Have you forgotten that Spectator Beyonder characteristic? If you have it crafted into a sealed artifact, you can use its hypnotic abilities — or even the Dragon's Might — to deceive the spirituality into thinking danger is present."
"...Fair enough."
An idea that had been on the table for a while, but now, after sacrificing an actual Spectator demigod, they finally had the materials to make it happen.
"Right. You've recovered enough. It's time to advance to Sequence 5."
Bernadette said: "In a few more hours, we swap back. And then I'd have to wait another three days."
"Alright."
Vincent nodded, entered the Nation of Disorder quickly, and made his way into the grand ancient palace. He settled into one of the relatively intact stone chairs.
He looked around at the ring of still-broken seats and idly wondered: When I advance to Sequence 5, will they all get restored? And if so, will I finally be able to bring others in here for a meeting?
Probably not, though.
The Grey Fog's ability to pull in others' spirit bodies came from what it symbolised — a domain over the spirit world. The Nation of Disorder symbolised rule and order. That authority didn't seem to extend to pulling people in.
Then what were the palace, the stone chairs, the distant structures of the Thirty-Three Heavens actually for? Pure decoration? The only way to find answers was to keep climbing. Sitting here and guessing was pointless.
Vincent reached toward the ancient Scale, and channelled spirituality toward the grey crystal on the left pan.
A faint light bloomed from it. A few seconds later — crack — the crystal shattered, dissolving into a grey stream of light that shot straight into him.
In an instant, endless black flooded in from every direction. It swallowed the stone pillars, the palace roof, the floor, the stone chairs, the ancient Scale — and finally swallowed Vincent too.
At first he assumed this darkness was the same kind of visionary experience as his previous advancements — something playing out in the mind's eye.
But he quickly understood: this was happening in reality.
Clearly different from the times before.
In previous advancements, the Nation of Disorder had changed after the fact — he'd only discovered the changes when he returned. But now, nothing in him felt different yet, and the Nation of Disorder had already started its own process.
While he was still working this out, the darkness completed its consumption of everything.
Vincent found himself standing in absolute darkness. No light, no sound. Nothing to see — and yet he could clearly perceive the black.
After a long, silent wait, he started walking forward into it. Every footstep felt solid underfoot, but made no sound at all.
Dark. Dark. More dark.
No matter how far he walked, no matter which direction he turned, there was nothing in front of him but darkness.
In the end, he even laughed at himself: Am I on the Broker Pathway or the Darkness Pathway?
Or is this darkness the Evernight Goddess quietly messing with me?
To be continued…
Advance 100 Chapters are up on my Patreon!
pat reon.com/AlphaSenatus