People are all born with Cores.

  A human’s Core can perform supernatural feats.

  Every single person that is ever born can have one out of five different Cores: Wood, Metal, Earth, Water, and Fire.

  However, there exists a natural resource called ‘xi’. This is a very rare resource and some countries have more than others.

  Xi allows you to create Paths that can be replicated and replace one’s natural-born Path.

  In a world that is becoming more industrial, with a focus on creating a population that can perform more manual labor… xi becomes a priceless resource.

  Conflicts have begun. Wars have been won and lost— all with the same goal:

  Find more xi.

  – Excerpt from “The National Defense Sect of Tianxia’s Handbook”

  His hand fumbled with the steering wheel of the patrol vehicle, turning sharply down the alley.

  ‘Come in, Enforcer. We need you on the scene.’

  Clicking his tongue, he didn’t reply to the open channel that was tethered to him through his Metal Core.

  This was a special ability that came with his Path— taught by the National Defense Sect of Tianxia. It allowed all Militia personnel to communicate long distances through their thoughts, alone.

  ‘Enforcer?’

  The soft voice in his head turned sharp.

  ‘Chet, get your ass here in 15 minutes or I’m tossing all the paperwork from the last case onto you.’

  Chet braked the car, and spat back with as much vitriol his mind could supply, ‘I already clocked out, Naomi.’

  ‘That’s Lieutenant Sato to you. And do you think I care? We had another fight break out between the gangs.’ Naomi paused for a moment. ‘It was a restaurant this time.’

  In the middle of the loudest sigh of Chet’s life, his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure walking down the adjacent streetside. Instantly, he forgot about his Lieutenant.

  Chet rolled his window down, pulling his car to a slow crawl beside the curb. “Kaiso!”

  The figure stiffened. He kept walking. Brat.

  Chet continued to shout, “Is that the right way to greet your brother? Come here!”

  Turning around stiffly, his younger brother walked up to where Chet had parked his vehicle. “Hey, Chet.”

  Chet leaned over to open the passenger seat. He didn’t look away until the boy shuffled onto the leather cushions. Trying to keep his tone level, Chet asked, “Where did you run off to this time?”

  His younger brother smiled at him. The stench of castile and lye hung off of him like a wraith. The heavy bags under his eyes didn’t look any lighter. “A laundromat. They offered free boarding.”

  “Ah,” Chet looked back at the road. “Sounds eventful.”

  The two of them fell into silence. This was common for them. Chet would return home from a long day at work, expecting to find Kaiso dutifully studying for the Militia exams he needed to take later on in the year.

  Instead, the house was empty.

  Every few weeks or so, Kaiso found it fit to run away from home and hide from his older brother. He’d take on small odd-jobs here and there. Sleep on benches, beneath bridges, or wherever offered him boarding.

  It was a game of cat-and-mouse. One that neither of them seemed to enjoy.

  Chet found him every time.

  “How’d you find me?” Kaiso asked softly.

  “There are only so many boarding houses in Tianxia.”

  Kaiso hummed, and Chet felt his skin bristle.

  “Is the Beast’s Blessing bothering you? Is that why you left?” Chet tapped a finger on the steering wheel.

  The memory came, unfettered, through their minds:

  Kaiso, only 12 years old. Curled up and screaming within the crumbling remains of a burnt compound, situated in the most depraved corners of the Red Light District.

  Chet rushed in, donning a fireproof suit. He’d stolen it off one of the Enforcers, the moment he saw the child’s face through the window.

  The two of them hadn’t seen each other in three years.

  And his brother had screamed, in pain despite the fire not reaching him. He didn’t look like himself— maddened and crazed. Possessed by some ghost, it seemed.

  He didn’t know it then, but that was the Beast’s Blessing.

  Kaiso lashed out, and struck Chet in the leg.

  He had to be dragged out of the fire, while his brother was left in the burning building for another 20 minutes.

  What had transpired, then?

  Chet would never know. Especially because when one of the trained firefighters finally extinguished the fire, revealing the dozens of charred corpses— Kaiso had returned to normal.

  But Chet saw something in his brother that day. Something that never left him, even now.

  Chet slowly inched his hand toward the radio, switching it on to fill the lapses.

  Instantly, a news report came in:

  “Preparations are fully underway for the arrival of the Furukameian royal family by the end of the month...”

  Kaiso’s voice cut into the barrage of noise, “No, I’m fine.”

  “...Emperor Hideyoshi, Crown Prince Nobunaga, and Prince Kiyomizu will be attending to discuss the unrenewed temporary license that widely eased sanctions on Tianxia’s—”

  From the rearview mirror, Chet could see Kaiso raise a hand, rubbing underneath his left eye. It was covered by his medical patch.

  Chet cleared his throat over the tittering of the radio. “I know that you hate studying for the Militia exams. I know that you don’t want to become an Enforcer like me. But you don’t have to run off every time you—”

  “Chet,” Kaiso’s smile grew crooked. “I won’t do it again.”

  Liar, Chet’s mind sang. Before, that taunt would’ve been lighthearted and gentle. But things had changed after the Red Light District Massacre. Everything had changed.

  And so, they were back to silence. The radio continued to blabber on, but neither of them listened.

  ‘Chet. Don’t think that I’ve let you off the hook.’

  Chet nearly swerved the car into the pedestrian lane. ‘Naomi, I swear to Xian above—’

  ‘It’s the Golden Phantom.’ Naomi said tersely. ‘He was here.’

  Chet froze, eyes going wide.

  “Brother?” Kaiso muttered from the backseat.

  “Sorry, Kai,” Chet flicked the signal on. He leaned back to look at the rearview mirror, performing a u-turn. “Do you mind if we stop by a crime scene real quick?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  He parked the patrol vehicle in some rundown, backstreet corner.

  Chet could already see the crumbling debris that the Golden Phantom had left behind for him.

  He didn’t know how the structure was classified as a ‘restaurant’ before. It looked like the forsaken remains that Chet was long familiar with, back when he served in Long Shore’s civil war.

  “Are you alright with staying here?” Chet asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a flask, and took a swig.

  Kaiso looked out the window, expression unclear. His tone was polite as he said, “No, I want to see it too. I might fall asleep if I keep sitting around.”

  It went unspoken that whenever Kaiso fell asleep in his brother’s car, Chet would be forced to carry the boy to their shared apartment.

  Chet knew that his brother was uncomfortable with his touch— and Kaiso knew that Chet despised his sleeping face. The boy looked too much like a corpse.

  Chet still remembered the first time he had ever thought that way.

  When Kaiso was only a baby, their mother disappeared in delirium for 10 days. Amidst the brewing civil war in Long Shore, Chet thought she would never come back.

  K cried and cried and cried— hungry and weak. Chet didn’t know what to do. He knew that the baby needed sleep. That he needed something to latch on to and suckle.

  At 8 years old, Chet reached into his mother’s alcohol cabinet. He’d seen her drink the stuff before promptly falling into a sleep so deep; Chet could wrap her arms around his little frame while he pretended she was embracing him… and she never stirred.

  So, Chet took the bottle. He dabbed a few drops onto the edge of his shirt, and he let Kaiso teethe and suckle on it.

  His brother slept for a day and a half, after that.

  Eventually, their mother returned home and scolded Chet horribly for stealing milk from their neighbor’s goat when the hunger became too much and Kaiso began to grow lethargic.

  But that was the first time Chet thought his brother had died in his arms. Head heavy, little chest barely breathing. He hoped that was the last time.

  It wasn’t.

  “Just don’t touch anything,” Chet ordered. As he emerged from the vehicle, his knee popped loudly. The slight limp in his step was just one effect that Kaiso’s affliction had bestowed upon him.

  Naomi rushed over to Chet’s side with all the force of a hurricane.

  “There you are! You need to see this,” she spat, before her eyes landed on Kaiso. Instantly, she clasped her hands together in joy. “Oh, Kai. Did your brother pick you up? You look tired.”

  Kaiso smiled softly, “Just been having trouble sleeping, ma’am.”

  “Oh,” Naomi cooed again. “A growing boy like you shouldn’t—”

  “As much as I would love to stay chatting,” Chet rolled his eyes, pushing her away. “I want to get home and taste this new bottle of rice wine I bought. So if we could get back to business?”

  “Of course,” Naomi’s face turned to stone when she faced Chet again. Figures.

  She led him down the closed-off road. Bits of rubble crunched under their shoes as they neared the entrance of the restaurant.

  There was a deadbolt hanging off the double doors, barely holding on. It had been warped and banged apart from the inside.

  “So, how many bodies do we have?” Chet asked as he stepped into the restaurant.

  “That’s the thing,” Naomi scratched at her scalp. “Witnesses say they saw around 15 to 18 people enter the restaurant yesterday. There were signs of a fight. But—”

  Before she could finish, Chet took a long look at the crime scene. His brows furrowed.

  There weren’t any bodies.

  But the chairs, tables, and plates were crushed and strewn across the room. The wallpaper was torn, and bullet holes were sprayed on the walls and floor.

  A group of Enforcers gathered around a small puddle of blood. They were probably running forensic tests. Capstan knobs were twisted, photographs snapped onto strips of film.

  When the work is done, the Enforcers will lift the place upside-down to look for any loot they’d be able to steal. Fancy silverware, priceless appliances, patterned fabric; anything. Like the tainted mongrels they were, they’d stash them away and sell them on a later date.

  Naomi looked the other way, and Chet didn’t care to reprimand them. After all, he was on the lowest rung of the authoritarian ladder.

  “It’s like they all vanished,” Naomi shook her head. “Usually, Triad gang wars end up with a whole slew of bodies. The only time we could never find the victims were…”

  “When the Golden Phantom was involved,” Chet finished for her.

  In the corner of his eye, he spotted a butterfly lounging by the wall.

  “That’s why I had to call you out here,” Naomi shrugged. “If anyone could give me a couple leads, it would be our resident Phantom-fanatic.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Chet frowned. Only he and Naomi knew of Kaiso’s affliction. Simply because they wanted to keep him safe from anyone who would dare to steal him away. “That lunatic’s the only other person in the world who has the Blessing, just like my brother.”

  “Ah, yeah…” Naomi scratched at her ear. “How is Kaiso, by the way?”

  “He doesn’t tell me anything,” Shaking his head, Chet went over to the butterfly. He caught it in his hand before it could flutter away. “I think he still hears the voices, but he keeps it a secret. That’s an awful habit of his.”

  “You can’t blame him. After everything he’s been through…”

  Chet slowly went up to the door, releasing the butterfly into the cold night. He watched it flutter toward the starless sky. “I’m just glad that he didn’t end up being anything like the Golden Phantom.”

  The Militia had been searching for the Golden Phantom for five years now. Shortly after the Red Light District Massacre, when Kaiso was implanted with the Beast’s Blessing— a spy called the Golden Phantom gained notoriety in the Triads.

  He was the Triads’ loyal dog, trained by their leader Banzai. Nobody understood his methods, but he was effective. No witnesses, no survivors, no statements.

  There would be blood, destruction, the signs of a fight. But it was like the corpses had all risen and left before the Militia could arrive. No evidence pointing towards a clean-up or that the bodies were moved elsewhere.

  Only a few wayward insects and creatures. A couple lizards, a group of ants, and now— a butterfly.

  “No survivors, again.” Chet finally said.

  “Actually, there is one. Some kid that the Triads hired as a waiter. Found the idiot hiding in the kitchens.” She shrugged, nodding toward the motorcar at the end of the road. “He hasn’t spoken a single word since we found him, though…we’re gonna take him—”

  An ear-splitting bang rippled through the air, a wave of shrapnel and hot air billowing towards both Chet and Naomi through the wide-open door.

  The Lieutenant gasped, already jetting down the street towards the sound.

  One of the motorcars had been split into two, metal speared apart, leather ripped at the seams. Black smoke was surging into the air, a small group of Enforcers huddling by its side.

  Some of them were on their backs, screeching in pain.

  “Get away from there!” Naomi bellowed, waving towards the Enforcers, “the engine could burst!”

  Blood leaked onto the asphalt road as the Enforcers dragged their injured colleagues away from the blazing mess.

  Some of them had their arms and legs blown apart, the flesh clearly shredded and burnt.

  Naomi spat out automatically, “Apply a tourniquet, raise the leg. And for Xian’s sake— loosen their ties. They’re going into shock and none of them can breathe through those things.

  Chet quickly shed his own blazer, leaning down to ball it up and shove it under a young Enforcer’s head. He whispered in a slow drawl as he saw the man’s eyes grow wide and fearful, “You’ll be alright, kid. Just breathe with me— one, two… that's it.”

  Chet took deep breaths in example, plastering his hand atop the other man's chest to ease its quickened rise and fall. The young Enforcer followed along as well as he could.

  He had seen many children perish like this during the war. So, Chet learned how to temper one’s panic before it could engulf the mind; speeding along the process of death.

  It was a useful skill in their line of work.

  Chet muttered, “Steady on, kid.”

  “The survivor escaped,” one of the Enforcers gasped at Naomi. He eyed the burning motorcar with a twisted frown. The other Enforcers leapt for the leather tourniquet they kept in one of the motorcars.

  In a single breath Chet got back to his feet, turned to Naomi, and said, “I’ll catch him.”

  It was a wildly confident statement. The limp in his leg did nothing to assure his colleagues.

  He didn’t stay to catch Naomi’s reply, already bounding down the alley; skipping past rotting garbage and skittering rats.

  There was a patter of footsteps in front of him. His ears managed to discern it from his own footfalls.

  Chet put his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Halt!”

  And there— a flutter of a cloak, sleek and black, as though to obscure its wearer into the shadows. The alleyway was thinning, the walls shuttering closer. They would hit a dead end soon.

  Sewage waste overflowed from the old drainage gutters, rusty trash cans tipped over. The brick beneath Chet’s feet grew older and moldier by each bound and leap and step.

  Until he could finally see a figure, beyond the shadows of the alley.

  The survivor’s cloak billowed before Chet’s eyes. With a desperate lunge, the Enforcer lunged his fingers into the fabric and pulled.

  He managed to tear off a sizable piece as the figure scaled over one of the walls.

  As he did so, Chet barely made out the quick flash of white hair that was visible beneath the survivor’s cloak.

  “Chet!” his brother’s voice called after him.

  Chet was left staring after the figure’s shadow, even when Kaiso reached his side.

  “That boy…” Kaiso muttered.

  “Are you alright?” Chet finally looked up, tilting Kaiso’s head this way and that, trying to check for any wounds or bruises.

  Kaiso nodded before he gestured at the fabric in Chet’s hand. “What… is that?”

  “Oh,” Chet looked down at it. He rubbed his finger across the smooth fabric. If he hadn’t fought in the war he wouldn’t have recognized it. “Chiffon fabric.”

  Kaiso tilted his head to the side in confusion.

  Chiffon was often used for parachutes, mainly because it contained silk. But that wasn’t what truly stood out to Chet.

  Chiffon was soft and light, a material that was unsuited to cloaks and other winter wear.

  “That wasn’t a regular cloak,” Chet mused aloud. He showed the cloth to his brother, who touched it with his own fingertips. “Cloaks need to be made of heavy fabrics, but this…”

  Kaiso spoke softly. “It’s like it was made for the summer.”

  “What?”

  His brother shrugged. “I mean, someone would only make a cloak that light if it was hot, right? Or maybe, if they were doing something that would make them sweat.”

  “That’s true.” Chet wracked his mind.

  Something that would require a cloak to be light, without being burdened by its weight.

  A cloak that prioritized movement over warmth.

  He came to a conclusion the same moment his brother did:

  “It’s a costume.”

  A play or a cabaret, surely.

  There were probably only a small number of them that had this specific costume. If Chet was able to find it, then there was most likely a clue waiting for him regarding the mysterious survivor.

  For once, the smile he gave Kaiso was genuine.

  And for a short moment, he forgot all about the Beast that dwelt in his brother’s mind.