“Ahh, yes. Franko. Another movie for the ages. Wouldn’t you say, darling?” The aged old man turned to his partner.

  The partner, a similarly aged woman, awkwardly smiled in response. “Oh, uh, yes, it was… certainly a movie.”

  “And what a fine one it is. Why, I say-“

  The man kept chattering on and on about the magnificence of Franko Banko and the director’s acclaimed achievements. He was nominated several times for awards, but never won a single time. Honestly, he seemed more interested in hearing himself talk than his own partner before him. No wonder why the old man was never able to settle down.

  In that case then, there wouldn’t be a problem if something of his were to… disappear.

  Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the entrance of the theatre.

  “Oh!” The man exclaimed, as his hat began to fly off. He quickly reached out his hand to grab it.

  His partner however, her eyes not having followed his flying hat, watched as a silhouette rushed behind the old man’s back, and within the second, disappeared.

  “Thank god, I managed to grab my hat in time. Now, where were we?”

  “I… I think you were just robbed.”

  ———————————————————————

  The thief ran down the street at an intense speed. He turned the corner into an alleyway, a small gust of wind following behind him. He sprinted down several turns, only stopping to make sure no one was following him. After a little while, the thief breathed a sigh of relief.

  He flipped through everything that he had stolen that day. Multiple purses and wallets were shoved clumsily into his hoodie.

  ‘Man, I hope I didn’t drop any of them.’

  After a brief moment of counting the total worth of everything he stole, he froze. It wasn’t enough.

  “Damn it, damn it! Agghhh! Can’t believe I have to go out again today. Shit, shit!”

  The thief ran at a nearby trashcan and kicked it over. Not satisfied with it, he launched a powerful kick at a nearby wall.

  “Ouch! Fuck!” He nearly screamed in pain.

  After falling over, the thief slowly got up and dusted himself off. His hood had fallen off in his anger, revealing his overgrown curly hair. He put his hood back over his full head of hair as he recollected himself.

  ‘It’s not over yet. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine,’ he repeated to himself mentally.

  Before long, he stood before the doors of a warehouse. He took a deep breath, hoping that nobody would be inside, and slowly entered.

  The dark warehouse was filled with shelves upon shelves of boxes. The thief knew several of the boxes were filled with paper bills, but despite the riches that laid before him, he did not dare to open them. It was a dusty, dusty warehouse and the thief almost wanted to leave this place immediately. He slowly walked to a specific box on a specific shelf and placed the contents of his findings inside of it. He quickly wrapped it back up and taped the thing closed right after.

  Slowly, he turned around and checked for any presences. None.

  ‘Thank god.’

  Suddenly, the light turned on. The thief nearly jumped from the shock, before quickly deciding to hide.

  ‘Who!? I thought this warehouse was abandoned!? That’s why we’re using it!’ He rapidly thought.

  The thief gulped as he slowly sneaked through the warehouse. He knew the security cameras were broken, so no one should have known he was here.

  ‘It can’t be him, it can’t be him! Please, please, please!’

  “Ah, there you are,” a curt voice came from across the shelves.

  The thief turned and saw a brown-haired man with dog ears and a tail looking at him from behind a shelf. His calm gaze unnerved him.

  “Ernest was your name, I believe. I’m the only one in this warehouse, so I would like to-“

  Suddenly, Ernest launched himself at the shelf and kicked it over, the force of his kick shooting himself backwards and nearly crashing into another shelf. He didn’t bother to verify if the intruder was trapped under there, he had to get out. He dashed as fast as he could towards a window, willing to crash through glass to escape.

  As he was about to crash into it, the glass seemed to… reverberate.

  ‘That’s not the glass! It’s…’

  Ernest spied that wrapped inside of the window were small threads, dozens of them, all vibrating in sync. They didn’t seem to deter him, until suddenly they all stopped, causing a loud screech to resonate through his ears. Ernest crashed into the wall and fell to the floor, his ears still aching.

  “Please let me finish. Ernest, you happen to have a small bounty on you. A bearkin thief with the Wind Aspect stealing money wantonly from civilians, with a particular preference towards old, rich people. If you come in quietly, we can-“

  A loud crash interrupted Rasa’s words. Ernest had given another shot at breaking the window. This time, he had backed up as much as he could and taken a full running leap, flipping himself midjump so as to kick the window. The mana infused within his blow almost made Rasa act, but the most it did was stop the strings from playing for but a brief moment.

  Ernest, now lying on the ground after having put his all into that blow, quickly scampered to his feet and rushed towards the door.

  “The hell!?” He exclaimed.

  The door was wrapped with thick metallic threads that resembled rope. The threads looked tough as hell, so there was no way he was making his way through there without significant effort.

  From behind him, Ernest heard the sound of several boxes falling out of shelves. He turned and saw a calm Rasa manipulating his strings to lift the shelves back into an upright position.

  Rasa wielded a sword in his right hand, but strangely enough, the back of the sword seemed to have a thick bundle of strings attached along the edge of the blade. His left hand however, was clad in a gauntlet that reached up until it covered his shoulder. Over the gauntlet were strings that reached down to his fingers, each section punctuated with little ridges. The strings were shot outward past his fingers, connected to the strings carrying the shelves. On the underside of the gauntlet, was a single thick metallic rope-like thread attached, leading all the way to the bottom of the palm. Each had their reels further up the arm.

  Rasa released his grip on his strings. “You are trapped, that is true. And while I may be alone at the moment, I have allies coming to my aid. Surrender.”

  For a brief moment, Ernest considered it. If he surrendered now, he would be put in jail, and if he was in there, then he couldn’t possibly get him. Could he? What if he had a guy on the inside?

  ‘He definitely does! He could just do the same thing he did to me to get a guy to kill me!’

  There was no way out here. He had to defeat the string user before him quick and then get out of here. No other way.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “No way!” He screamed as he jumped into the air.

  Ernest wrapped his legs with mana and commanded the air to carry him. He kicked off of the ceiling and charged straight at the unmoving Rasa, flipping over for a flying kick.

  Rasa did not change his expression. He simply pointed his gauntlet at him, and the thick metallic thread shot out. Ernest dodged the thread, but right as he came within striking distance, his face scrunched up in pain.

  “Gah!” He screamed, as he rushed past Rasa, missing him entirely. Luckily though, he didn’t crash into a shelf.

  Ernest tumbled and tumbled forward, gripping his feet in pain. He pulled down his pant legs and found several lacerations all over his legs. Still stifling his pain, he shot a glare back at Rasa. Rasa was slowly walking up to him.

  ‘He set up strings around himself! The strings are way thinner than they are on his gauntlet!’

  “Son of a bitch. You think just cause we’re in a cramped warehouse, you can catch me?

  “Yes. A speedster like you does not have much space to move in an environment like this, especially when facing off against a trapper.”

  “I’ll wipe that blank stare off of your face!”

  Ernest slowly stood up. The injuries weren’t too bad. He could still run. And if he could run, then he could still fight.

  Before Rasa’s eyes, Ernest rushed behind several shelves. He merely glanced at the shelves the thief disappeared behind. It was bright, but the shelves were in the way.

  Suddenly, several boxes shot out at his back. Rasa did not notice it until they came into contact with his strings. Hurriedly, he turned around.

  The boxes, easily bisected, spilled out their contents onto Rasa. Swathes upon swathes of paper bills flew at him. Compounding that, a small whirlwind swirled around him, carrying the paper bills with it. Within a second, Rasa’s vision was almost totally obscured.

  ‘I can’t particularly move fast when I have my strings set up to defend myself. So, he wants to obscure my vision. But I won’t let my strings loose so I can move faster,’ Rasa observed.

  A shelf crashed into another shelf from somewhere in the warehouse. Boxes spilled out from the shelves, their contents also spilling on the floor. The items inside clanged on the floor, each one a different sound. Shelves upon shelves were getting knocked over, crashing into each other. The music of chaos was all Rasa could hear.

  ‘I see. I suppose it would be easy to tell I am attuned to sound. So this is his solution. In that case, I’ll make this into a duet.’

  Rasa took a deep breath and raised his gauntlet. He turned his hand over, almost as if he was holding a violin. The thread retracted further down his gauntlet. Four small strings shot out from his fingers and connected to the gauntlet further up his arm. A small bridge pushed out from underneath it, pulling the strings taut. Rasa flipped his sword over, the thick bundle of strings on it slightly shivering as he placed it onto the 4 strings on his gauntlet. It wasn’t a violin, but it was nonetheless an instrument.

  Rasa closed his eyes and began playing. He first played a clear and long note, before moving his bow-sword to play another. Another clear and long note, but the speed at which he played was a little faster. He repeated his motions, playing a melody that quickly grew faster as it lingered. Before long, he was strumming so fast his notes sounded like a bumblebee. Its last note was produced in a flash, his bow-sword leaving the makeshift violin’s strings. Strangely enough, the melody did not stop, it kept repeating over and over.

  [Rhythm of a Bumblebee]

  “AAAAAAGGGGHHH!” Ernest screamed. The scream was followed by the sound of a shelf falling over and crashing into another.

  ‘My-my ears! The song keeps playing! I can’t think!’

  Ernest rolled around on the floor, his movements erratic. Rasa had stopped playing, but the song, it continued. That last note seemed to carry with it a jumble of other notes, all resounding in his head. No matter what he did, there was an infuriating bumblebee inside of his head.

  It was suddenly then that he noticed that he was right beneath one of the windows. His eyes caught on to tiny movements right inside of the window. The strings. The strings were moving. They were playing the same song continuously.

  Unable to think straight, all he could do was grab whatever nearby object and throw it at the window, hoping it would break through. Several jewels flew straight at the glass window, chunking it each time. Strangely enough, the jewels were not repelled off of the glass.

  ‘Different song! It doesn’t repel attacks!’ Ernest realised.

  With hope now in sight, he got back up and with a running start, took a massive leap. The force of his kick broke through the window and allowed him to shoot straight out of it. Shards of glass cut through his wrists and legs, but he forced himself not to scream. Just as he was out though, a cool metallic thread wrapped itself around his waist and dragged him back in. The force of the pull dragged him back through the broken window, deepening his wounds, and crashing into the floor. His head smacked into the floor, and it was only as he was passing out that he was finally granted relief from that bumblebee.

  ———————————————————————

  When Ernest next woke, a very beautiful woman with blood red eyes and straight black hair was sitting over him. Her hands were placed above his wounds, her mana seeping into them to help them heal. He felt his wounds closing up and the blood rapidly congealing.

  “I must be dreaming if I’m seeing such a beau-“

  The beautiful woman suddenly drew a shitton of blood from one of his cut wounds.

  “AGH! Agh, stop! You’re gonna bleed me dry!” He howled in pain.

  Carmine promptly shoved all of that blood back inside of him and got back to work. “Your lines suck dick.”

  “Sorry…” Ernest mumbled out as he let the recovery process happen.

  He took a quick glance at his body. As expected, he was bound by the thick metallic thread. So that whole fight was real. Which meant…

  “Hey, he’s trembling,” Carmine called out to her comrades.

  “Hey, hey, calm down. We’re not gonna do anything to you,” Machua ran up to him and said. Following behind her was the rest of her comrades.

  “You don’t get it. You don’t get anything at all!” Ernest said as he shivered in fear.

  “Then tell us already,” Machia said. “Why is it that you’re stealing things and putting it in this warehouse? Normally, thieves prefer putting it in a smaller, more secure hideout, so you must have some reason. You’re transporting goods, aren’t you?”

  “How’d you-?” Ernest asked, before going quiet. He gritted his teeth together, determined not to speak.

  “Oh, the bugs found something,” Plue stated, as a box slowly made its way towards them.

  Little ants opened the box’s cover, having already bitten through the tape. Its contents were revealed to the world, being several small packages. Plue slowly bent down with a serious look on her face and grabbed ahold of one of them.

  “I think I know what’s inside of these,“ she said, as she slowly opened it up.

  The packages contained small ampoules filled with a green liquid. Plue inspected the green ampoules, bringing them up to eye level. Her expression slowly grew more curious until finally, after deliberating on it, she stuck the ampoule into her arm.

  “Plu!?” Machua yelled, running over to her.

  After confirming that it had dispensed the green liquid, Plue quickly separated the ampoule from her arm. Slowly, she made a small cut on her wrist. The wound healed up at a quick pace. It was even surpassing what Carmine could do. Whereas she was merely clotting the blood to prevent blood loss and assist in healing, this ampoule healed the wound directly.

  Plue walked up to the group, holding out the green ampoule. “I know this thing. It’s a drug.”

  “It’s a Devouring Ampoule. It eats away at your life force, but it converts that into adrenaline, mana and heals your wounds. But if you use too much, it can be very dangerous. It’s banned in a lot of places, but in the places that don’t ban it, it’s always regulated heavily,” Plue explained.

  “How dangerous would you say these are?” Machia asked.

  “It can kill you if you take too much. But if you take a little, you’ll be okay. One full ampoule is safe. Two will have some effects, but if you take three then you’re in danger.”

  “You won’t be experiencing any side effects then, right? Plu?” Machua worriedly asked.

  “I took just a little bit. I’ve used a full ampoule before, and I was just fine,” Plue smiled to reassure Machua.

  “That’s good. But Plu, please don’t do something like that so suddenly again.”

  “Okay. Got it,” Plue nodded her head up and down, her words not fully sincere.

  Machua frowned a bit when she saw that Plue wasn’t taking her concerns entirely seriously but ignored that in favour of talking about the elephant in the room.

  “Now,” Machua said before her tone suddenly changed drastically, “on to more important issues. We have a drug dealer in our midst.”

  The group collectively turned to Ernest, who suddenly began to feel even more afraid for his life. “I-I swear, I didn’t know! I was just transporting packages, I didn’t dare to look inside!”

  “But you were also stealing money and putting it in this warehouse. There’s more to that, riiiiiight?” Machua pointed.

  “Ah, uh, umm… No,” Ernest flustered for a bit before going completely mum.

  Machia spoke. “Your boss or whoever’s gonna be miiiiighty angry to find his warehouse trashed. You know who he’s going to blame riiiiight?”

  “”Riiiiight?”” Machua and Plue repeated after him.

  Carmine rolled her eyes at that, but Rasa cracked a slight smile.

  Ernest began to contemplate what those words meant, and as he kept thinking it through, sweat beads began to pour out from his forehead. No matter which way he thought about it, to put it simply, he was screwed.

  “… You’re right, god damn it. Ughhhh, at this point, he’ll kill me no matter what…”

  “Who’ll kill you?” Rasa asked.

  Ernest sucked in a lot of air, to the point one could visibly see it. He huffed it all back out, causing a small gust to blow through the warehouse. A few ants went flying because of that.

  “… Okay, I’ll tell you.”

  “Gre-“ Machua began to walk over to Ernest before he interrupted her.

  “But! You have to protect me from him. You can’t hand me over to the cops, he’ll send a guy to kill me in jail. I-I need your guarantee I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it,” Machia responded, not even pretending to care.

  “Yeah, yeah, tell us who this guy is,” Machua followed up.

  Ernest looked nervously around the warehouse, cautious for any prying eyes or any listening devices or that sort. From his view on the ground, it didn’t seem like there was anything, but best to be safe. He really didn’t like anything about this situation but he had to do the best with what he got.

  “His name is Dalan,” Ernest whispered.

  “Him, huh? Didn’t know he was moving drugs now,” Machia remarked.

  “You know him?” Machua turned to her brother.

  “I’ve heard bits and pieces. He’s a serial killer with a taste for hunters. He got driven out of Erelier a long while ago.”

  “Yep,” Plue affirmed. “Papa almost got him, but he got away.”

  “He’s gotta be tough if he got away from Lemuel,” Carmine remarked with a smile. “Can’t wait till he finds us.”

  “Don’t get overzealous, Carmine. If he managed to evade Lemuel, then he might be too strong for us. This is our first mission after all.”

  “…” Machua closed her eyes for a few seconds.

  “Right! I think I know what we’re going to do. Machi! This is out of my league, so take over,” Machua said with a smile and a thumbs-up.

  Machia smiled the same smile as her. “No.”

  “Whyyyyy?” She whined.

  “You know why.”

  “Mmrgh…”

  “You’re,” Ernest slowly stood up and faced Machia, shouting, “clearly the most experienced one here! Are you really gonna leave it to her!? This is life or death for me, man!”

  No one spoke a single word as Ernest took in a deep breath, and exhaled deeply, another gust of wind leaving his mouth.

  “Look at me man! Look at me!”

  The gust of wind blew down his hoodie and ruffled his hair. His curly hair that had hidden the top of his head was finally parted. Two small stumps were nestled amidst his nest of hair, covered with bandages that had been hastily put on and needed replacing.

  “… Did Dalan do this?” Machua asked shakily.

  “It’s not clean.” Carmine looked away with a still expression.

  Machua stared at Ernest’s stumps, imagining what they used to look like. Bear ears, rising high above his hair, coloured in a deep brown. For a brief second, Ernest’s head overlapped with her dear friend Naiya’s. A Naiya without her signature cat ears, which were always so emotive. A broken down Naiya, who could no longer play so freely anymore.

  She backed away, retching. Plue came to her side and patted her back a little.

  “So that’s why you couldn’t break past the Resounding Beat of my strings. You don’t have your bear ears anymore, so you cannot control magic as you used to,” Rasa stated as he quietly withdrew his metal threads from Ernest.

  If the additional features a human developed to assist in controlling mana were to be severed, then this was the natural outcome. A reduced ability to control mana, leading to a reduced ability to cast spells of any kind. Ernest was like a puppet without strings. It was practically impossible for anyone to imagine what he felt.

  “Least he has his human ones still,” Carmine muttered. “And his tail.”

  “Left you your tail so you could at least steal for him. What a bastard,” Machia said.

  “Do… you see why I’m so desperate?”

  Ernest strode up to Machia and clutched his collar, glaring into his eyes. His fiery eyes were shaky and sweat accumulated on his brow. His grip was weak, no matter how much energy he put into it. To Machia, Ernest was so, so fragile.

  “He’s gonna kill me! If you’re a good guy, why are you not doing your best to protect me!?”

  “Ernest,” Machia calmly responded. “No matter how this mission goes, I won’t let you die.”

  “How can I trust you? You’ve never fought him. Have you?”

  “Dalan’s Aspect is Severance and his signature spell coats his daggers to shred what he slashes. Is that enough?”

  “…Okay. But you have to protect me. I won’t forgive you if I die.”

  “You won’t. I promise. Not with so many people protecting you now.”

  Ernest slowly released his grip on Machia’s collar, seemingly satisfied with that answer. He was still a little hesitant, but this was his best bet. With someone like Machia around, there was at least some hope. Some semblance of a future where he doesn’t end up dead in a ditch.

  “With our leader out of commission, I think our best move is to rest and recover at our hotel. Anyone not up for it?”

  Carmine almost wanted to raise her hand, but she at least had the tact not to.