The meeting ended the way most of them did.
With Commander Harth issuing deadlines he didn't believe in, and Erdin Vale standing quietly as if time itself had slowed around him.
"You have one week," Harth said, arms crossed. "I don't care how you do it. I don't care how many sleepless nights it takes. Find him. Or I will."
Erdin nodded once. "Understood."
The dismissal was sharp. Final.
As Erdin turned to leave, he felt it the familiar pressure at the base of his skull. The sensation that came whenever too many eyes lingered on him at once. Not suspicion. Not fear.
Expectation.
People always expected something from him. He had never known why.
The corridor outside the office was narrow, sterile, lit by dull white panels embedded into the ceiling. VEIL was not designed to comfort. It was designed to function.
Ella walked beside him, hands tucked into her coat pockets, pace relaxed.
"You handled that better than I would have," she said.
Erdin glanced at her. "You threatened a commander with a sword once."
She smiled. "Twice. He deserved it both times."
For a moment, silence settled between them not awkward, not heavy. Familiar.
"…Thank you," Erdin said quietly.
"For what?"
"For intervening."
Ella stopped walking. Turned to face him fully.
"You know I'd do that even if I wasn't assigned to you," she said. "You don't need to say it like that."
Erdin hesitated, then nodded. "Still. Thank you."
They resumed walking.
Ella studied him from the corner of her eye. Erdin Vale was an odd presence. Not because of what he did but because of what he didn't.
He didn't radiate power.
He didn't posture.
He didn't fear death the way most people did.
It was as if something inside him had already accepted too much.
"You're thinking again," Ella said.
"I usually am." He replied.
"That's not what I mean."
Erdin stopped.
"…I don't know how else to be," he admitted.
That earned silence, not judgment, not pity.
Just acknowledgment.
They stepped out into Valenreach's lower district.
Here, the city pressed closer buildings packed tighter, streets narrower, voices louder. Steam rose from vents along the pavement. Vendors shouted half-heartedly. Somewhere, glass shattered. Somewhere else, laughter followed.
Life persisted.
"This district's been hit twice," Ella said. "Both times near transit zones. That suggests movement."
"Or bait," Erdin replied.
"Or boredom."
They exchanged a glance.
"That's what worries me," Ella continued. "Forma users don't usually drag things out like this."
"Unless," Erdin said, "they're practicing."
Ella's jaw tightened.
"Or sending a message."
They stopped at a small corner restaurant barely more than a converted storefront. Warm light spilled from inside, cutting against the gray of the street.
Inside, it smelled like fried bread and broth.
Ella slid into the booth first. Erdin followed, sitting across from her, posture straight, hands folded.
"You still don't eat much," she noted.
"I forget," he said honestly.
She sighed and ordered for both of them.
As they waited, Ella reached into her bag and placed a small metal object on the table.
A compass.
Old-fashioned. Analog. Scratched with age.
"I need something physical," she said. "Something that existed before Magia started interfering with everything."
Erdin nodded. "To anchor it."
"Exactly."
She closed her eyes, resting two fingers on the compass. Her Magia stirred not violently, not explosively but with purpose.
The air hummed.
Lines of pale light etched briefly across the compass's surface, then faded.
Erdin watched closely. Arkana spells required precision runes, syllables, timing. Forma was different. It was will imposed directly onto reality.
"You're overextending," he said.
Ella opened one eye. "I'm fine."
"You always say that."
"And I'm always right."
The compass needle twitched, then spun.
Then stopped, pointing toward the street.
Ella's expression sharpened.
"…It's working."
A scream cut through the night.
Sharp and close.
Both of them were on their feet instantly.
Outside, chaos erupted.
People scattered. A figure stood in the street motionless amid the panic. Tall. Cloaked. Something about him seemed… misplaced. As if the city itself refused to acknowledge him fully.
"There he is," Ella said softly.
"So much for searching," Erdin replied.
The figure moved.
And the world broke into motion.
Ella drew her katana in a single fluid movement.
"Get distance," she said.
Erdin was already forming sigils in the air.
The clash was immediate.
Metal met something unseen. The shockwave cracked pavement, sending debris skidding. Ella drove the figure back with sheer force, her movements precise, relentless.
They moved fast too fast for civilians to track. Walls shattered. Streetlights collapsed.
"East!" Erdin shouted.
Ella pivoted instantly, blade flashing.
The figure dodged.
Too fast.
Erdin felt it then, the mistake.
His amplification spell spread wider than intended.
For a fraction of a second..
The enemy caught it.
The figure moved again, faster than before.
Ella's eyes widened.
"Erdin..!"
The katana struck, not the enemy.
The ground behind him.
The resulting impact cleaved through stone and earth, carving a massive trench into the outskirts beyond the city.
The figure had already moved.
Too late, a sharp sound.
Ella staggered.
Erdin's breath caught.
She looked down.
Blood bloomed across her chest.
"No.." Erdin whispered.
The enemy withdrew, stepping back into the shadows, watching.
Erdin dropped to his knees beside her, hands shaking.
"I can fix this," he said, already forming runes. "Just.. just hold on."
Ella coughed.
"Stop," she said weakly.
He froze.
"You don't have time," she whispered. "Finish the spell."
"I can't," he said. "I won't."
She smiled faintly.
"You always were like this."
Tears blurred his vision.
"Do it," she said. "Please."
He couldn't, he wouldn't.
Her hand fell limp.
And Erdin Vale screamed.
It was the first time anyone had ever heard him do so.
The killer turned to leave.
Erdin looked up.
"How did it feel?" he asked hoarsely. "Killing her."
The figure paused.
"…Nothing," he replied. "It never does."
"What's your name?"
A pause.
"Todo."
Erdin laughed.. broken, quiet.
"You're not from here."
Todo tilted his head.
"You won't kill me?"
"No," Erdin said.
Todo smiled.
"You're worse than me."
And then he was gone.
Two years later, Erdin sat in a white room.
They said he was unstable, eccentric, dangerous.
They were wrong.
Or maybe they weren't.
As the door opened and daylight touched his face again, whispers followed him.
"Psychopath." "Monster." "Madman."
Erdin went home, he stood alone.
"Sis," he said softly. "I'm the same age now."
Silence answered.
And somewhere beyond it..
Something listened.