Jack's consciousness snapped back into the real world. The transition from the ethereal, timeless dimension of Rainsister's living room to the mundane reality was not... nice.
His floating spectral felt uncomfortable. Added with his incomplete study, it made him feel... irritated.
An hour. That's all he got. Just one hour in an entire month. He had been immersed in the profound knowledge within Rainsister's tome. Unraveling the true nature of 'Fate Code' and the path to Illumination.
He was barely a quarter of the way through. The concepts were vast and intricate. Demanding every shred of his spectral focus. And then, poof... he was back.
"Dammit!" Jack muttered. The 'an hour a month' rule once seemed just an interesting quirk. Now, it felt like a deliberate act of torture.
He wanted to devour that book. Absorb its every knowledge. But the universe, or at least Rainsister, had other plans. He sighed. Nothing could be done about it now. He would just have to wait another month to continue his studies.
Jack activated his [Incarnation Shift] and transformed into his human form. After the usual gradual shift, within one minute he returned back to Jack Night, the Steamrune Engineer.
He stretched. His bones was creaking. The mental energy he spent in the spiritual gathering needed grounding. He walked out of the study. And headed to his workshop.
Manual creation was a good way to reset. He picked up his tools. His mind had already shifted its gears. He no longer thought about esoteric bubbles and fate codes. Today, he needed to make something tangible.
He unrolled a fresh sheet of hardened vellum. Pulling out his charcoal and rulers. His current project... a mechanical pet. Not just any pet. But a flying one. A Metallic Hawk.
It was an autonomous aerial reconnaissance unit. With limited combat capabilities. Disguised as a predatory bird.
He started sketching. The precise lines of gears, pistons, and miniature steam-engines formed beneath his hand. This wasn't just a pet. It was a tool. A surveillance drone.
He spent the rest of the day hunched over his drafting table. Lost in the precise world of engineering. The metallic hawk. Once completed, would be a valuable asset in his operations. The overt one that might be seen by other people.
...
Late that night... Long after Reina had drifted into a deep. Jack slipped out. He didn't need as much rest as normal people. Just an hour a day was enough rest for him. Unless, when he was injured.
As usual, he transformed. His human form dissolved into shimmering, transparent energy. Jack Mystery, the masked specter, reformed in the quiet room. And quickly disappeared. He preferred invisibility in this form. A silent observer in the city's night life.
He phased through the wall. And flew upward. The city below was a sprawling sight of flickering gaslights. There was still the rhythmic sound of distant industrial machinery. And the hushed whispers of the wind through narrow streets.
Lonestone Capital City was a unique kind of a city. A blend of grime-smeared industrial buildings and elegant Renaissance-era architecture. All centered around its massive, bustling port.
Just like usual, he simply patrolled the city. In random direction. Looking for the whispers of injustice. The vibrations of suffering. One that called for his unique brand of intervention.
Tonight, however, was different. He was floating over the winding alleyways near the docks. Suddenly, a faint, familiar spectral signature brushed against his senses.
It was distinct. And familiar. Like a specific scent of an old friend only he could perceive. In the vast sea of spiritual static.
He paused. Honing in on it. It was a ghost signature. And not just any ghost. It felt... young. And sharp.
He followed the faint trail. A mere wisp that led him deeper into the alleys behind the main market. Away from the loud taverns. And bustling warehouses.
The signature grew stronger. Converging on a secluded, almost forgotten corner of the dock. Hidden by overturned crates and derelict fishing nets.
There, crouched beside a stack of old barrels, was a figure. Small, translucent, and unmistakably familiar. A boy. Or rather, the ghost of one.
He was hunched over a motionless, unconscious form. A living boy. No older than twelve. Badly beaten. Clothes torn. Blood matted in his hair.
The spectral boy was frantically gesturing. A spectral grimoire floated beside him. His hands were glowing with a soft, green light as he chanted under his breath.
"Spider?" Jack's voice was a low, almost inaudible hum. A mere vibration in the air.
The ghost boy got startled. His head snapped up. His spectral eyes went wide. He looked exactly as Jack remembered him. Small for his perceived age of ten. With an old soul's weariness in his translucent features.
He still wore the tattered street clothes he had died in. This was Spider. His former student from Sapphire City. The blunt, sarcastic street-child ghost he had once taught Mystic Arts.
"Teach? What the hell are you doing here?" Spider's voice was raspy. Laced with exhaustion. And was just as blunt as ever. He didn't waste time on pleasantries. Just like old times.
Jack materialized fully. Dropping his invisibility. The masked specter with the top hat and flowing coat stood there. Radiating an aura of calm power.
"I've been in this city for a few days. Wandering, as usual. What are you doing here?"
Spider scowled. "Trying to keep this kid from bleeding out. Obviously. What does it look like? You gonna help or just spectate?"
Jack simply knelt beside Spider. Assessing the boy's injuries with his [Eyes of Judgement]. Severe concussions. A possible broken arm. And numerous lacerations.
He began to chant. The familiar words of a [Healing Chant] were flowing effortlessly from his non-existent lungs. A stronger, more potent green light pulsed from his hands. Enveloping the boy.
Spider's own efforts were commendable. But they were like a flickering candle next to Jack's focused beam. Together, the combined spectral energies washed over the boy's body.
Slowly, the bleeding visibly slowed down. Bruises began to recede. Though not entirely. The boy groaned. A weak, pained sound. But his breathing became less ragged.
It was clear that their [Healing Chant] spells, while potent, had reached their limits. It was a low level spell after all. It couldn't mend broken bones or erase every scar. Only accelerate and ease the natural healing process to a significant degree.
They could do no more. The boy was still unconscious but visibly stabilized.
Jack floated up. "Alright, Spider. Spill. What's the story?"
Spider sighed. Running his spectral hand through his even more spectral hair. "I left Sapphire City about four months ago. Got bored. Figured I'd see what else the Elrush Kingdom had to offer."
He stopped for a while, and continued. "Been drifting around. Sight-seeing. Haunting some taverns and libraries. You know... gathering information. Heard whispers in some of the seedy taverns about an illegal slavery operation here in Lonestone. Targeting street kids. Sounded like my kind of problem. So I poked around."
Jack listened. His spectral eyes fixed on his former student. Spider had matured. Even for a ghost. The weariness was deeper, the resolve firmer.
"Found this kid." Spider continued. Nudging the injured boy with a transparent foot. "He escaped. Barely. From the slavers' hideout. Pretty sure ther are more like him there. A lot more. I want to help. But, feel I got to take him to a safe spot first."
"A slavery operation? Here?"
Lonestone was the capital of Elrush Kingdom. An important bastion of the kingdom. A city supposedly under tight royal control. The thought of such an operation flourishing so openly chafed at Jack's sense of order. Even if it was his own twisted order.
"Where's the hideout?" He asked.
Spider pointed a translucent finger towards the northeast. Towards the dimly lit spires of Lonestone's religious district. Dominated by the majestic Cathedral of Prosperity.
"That way. In the Church District, of all places. Not far from the Cathedral itself. Bunch of old warehouses and neglected buildings."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Church District? That's… bold. Or stupid."
"Or they've got someone on the inside." Spider interjected. His voice was flat and cynical. "Wouldn't surprise me. The Church of Prosperity is all about wealth and influence. Too easy to deviate the teaching."
Jack considered this. Spider's blunt assessment was usually accurate. "You might be right. The original principle of that church is quite moral and makes sense. But, it was indeed easy to twist."
"So?" Spider asked.
"Alright." Jack decided. "We can't move this kid without drawing too much attention. Keep an eye on him. Make sure he is alive. If anyone comes looking, you know what to do."
Spider nodded. "Got it. So, you're going in?"
"First, I'm confirming. The cathedral and the hideout." Jack said. "Give me the general coordinates of the hideout."
"You? Going to cathedral? Are you insane? You are a specter."
Jack grinned behind his mask. "No worry, Kid. Just got an ability to hide myself from divinity. Got to try it."
Spider grumbled. "Whatever. It's your own skin... soul. As for the hideout..."
He gave Jack directions. Precise as ever. Jack didn't wait. He dissolved into invisibility. A mere distortion in the humid night air. And shot towards the indicated area.