Chapter 164: Parasite

  Abel stepped through the portal, emerging back into the dimly lit basement of the Starry Villa with Hector following closely behind.

  As soon as his feet touched solid ground, he inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of parchment, ink, and alchemical herbs filling his senses.

  The transition from the vibrant, surreal flower realm to the grounded reality of his lab was almost jarring, but it was a welcome shift. Behind him, Hector stumbled slightly, his eyes wide with awe as he took in his surroundings.

  Hector let out a breath of pure relief, running a hand through his tangled, unkempt hair. “Finally… I thought I’d never get out of that place,” he muttered, still dazed.

  Abel smirked, watching the former Murman heir take in the sight of the basement—the walls lined with neatly stacked scrolls and other notes, vials of strange liquids set carefully upon wooden shelves, and the scattered remnants of his most recent research.

  The shift in the air, the weight of the world pressing against Hector, and the absence of that ever-present floral haze were disorienting. But Abel had no patience for sentimentality.

  He turned to Hector, his voice even and authoritative, leaving no room for doubt. “Listen closely. A lot has changed while you were… gone. The town’s been through hell, and people are still rebuilding their lives. As far as anyone is concerned, your father packed up and left after the earthquakes. You, as the new head of the Murman family, are here to pick up the pieces.”

  Hector’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his gaunt face. “My father… left?” His tone was hollow like he was reaching for a memory that simply didn’t exist.

  Abel met his gaze with a slow, deliberate nod. “Yes. He abandoned the town, afraid of dying in the chaos. You, however, will remain. Your role is simple—you’ll learn about the Pale Order, listen to the whispers of those who still trust your family name, and pass along any knowledge of magic that comes to your attention. You’re a noble, after all. People will talk to you.” His eyes glinted with something unreadable. “And you’ll listen. Then, you’ll report back to me.”

  Hector’s lips parted as if to protest, but no words came. There was no past for him to recall, no memories to contradict Abel’s claims. His mind was blank, an empty canvas, and Abel was painting a reality for him.

  “I will give you a basic knowledge course in due time,” Abel continued, his tone almost casual. “You’ll need it—to get used to that leech of yours, as well as the magic world.”

  Silence stretched between them. The weight of Abel’s words pressed down on Hector, sinking into the void where his memories should have been.

  He had no recollection of his father, no recollection of family at all. But Abel’s voice carried the weight of certainty, and in his disoriented state, Hector had nothing else to hold onto.

  A sense of purpose, however artificial, was better than the void.

  “If that’s what I’m supposed to do, then… I’ll do it,” Hector said, determination creeping into his voice. He smiled slightly. “Besides, you saved my life. ”

  Abel chuckled at Hector’s shallow motivations, but it worked in his favor. The man had no real memories, making him the perfect pawn. As long as Hector remained useful, he’d play along with the charade.

  “Good,” Abel said, gesturing toward the staircase. “Come on. You’ll need to get cleaned up before we handle anything else.”

  They ascended from the basement into the main halls of the Starry Villa. Hector’s awe was obvious.

  His eyes darted around, drinking in the lavish decor—the polished floors, the furniture, the expansive windows that brought in brightness. The sight momentarily left him speechless.

  “This place is incredible…” Hector murmured, trailing behind Abel.

  Abel waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not your estate, but you’ll have your own soon enough.”

  Hector barely heard him, still marveling at his surroundings. He couldn’t remember anything before the flower realm, but if this was the kind of life he was meant to live, he wasn’t about to question it.

  Abel turned, catching the housekeeper’s attention. The man bowed slightly before approaching.

  “Take Sir Hector to get washed up,” Abel instructed. “Get him new clothes, something appropriate.”

  The housekeeper nodded and gestured for Hector to follow. “Of course, my lord. Right this way.”

  Hector hesitated only a moment before nodding in gratitude. He turned to Abel, smiling. “Thank you again, really. I won’t let you down.”

  Abel simply smiled back, but his mind was elsewhere. As Hector disappeared down the hall, Abel reached into his robe and retrieved his badge, glancing at the latest responses from his friends. They had all replied except one—Nando.

  His brow furrowed slightly. Nando never failed to respond. Whether it was with sarcasm, playful jabs, or cryptic remarks, he always had something to say. But now? Silence.

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  Abel sighed, slipping the badge back into his robe. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but something didn’t sit right with him.

  I’ll look into it when I return to the tower.

  For now, he had more immediate things to deal with.

  Elsewhere in Reinhart the night air was thick with the lingering scent of smoke and dust from the day’s reconstruction efforts, but that familiar smell was suddenly tainted by something far more vile—a putrid, rotting stench that sent shivers down the spines of those who caught wind of it.

  Near the intersection of First Street and Oak Street, townspeople had begun screaming, their voices carrying through the dimly lit streets as they scrambled to get away from the source of their terror.

  A hunched figure staggered through the street, its gait slow and unnatural. The flickering lanterns that lined the road illuminated its grotesque form—a decayed, emaciated body with skin sagging over brittle bones, its flesh darkened by rot.

  What made it even more horrifying was the parasite latched onto its skull, a bulbous, pulsating mass of pale green flesh, filled with grotesque, squirming tendrils that burrowed into what remained of the man’s brain. Eight red eyes were on top of the parasite like the cockpit of a ship.

  Pus oozed from the wounds where the parasite had latched itself, dripping down the undead figure’s face.

  The creature groaned a guttural sound that sent a wave of dread through the gathered bystanders who were making their way home for the night.

  It twitched, then jerked forward with sudden speed, its cloudy eyes locking onto a terrified child who had tripped and fallen in the street.

  The boy whimpered, unable to move as the reeking monstrosity lunged toward him, clawed hands outstretched.

  Before the creature could reach its prey, a neon-blue appendage shot out from the shadows, wrapping around the creature’s torso with a wet snap before slamming it into the ground with enough force to make the parasite on top squirm in pain.

  The sickening crunch of breaking bones echoed through the air.

  Stewart stepped forward from the darkness, his long, glowing blue tongue retracting slightly as he stood between the monster and the civilians.

  His earring pulsed with an eerie luminescence, flanking him were two officers, each gripping their weapons tightly, their eyes locked on the grotesque thing as it struggled to rise.

  From the other side of the street, Jenny sprinted into view, her bell clutched in her hand as she alerted other officers nearby. She immediately knelt beside the fallen child, her sharp gaze flicking over him for injuries.

  “You’re safe now,” she assured, voice steady despite the tension in the air. She gestured to one of the younger female officers under her command. “Take him somewhere safe.”

  The officer nodded, scooping up the trembling child and quickly retreating, weaving through the panicked civilians.

  Meanwhile, the monster let out a rattling, wheezing sound and writhed against the cracked pavement, its parasite pulsating erratically, sensing the imminent danger.

  It let out a wet, choked gurgle before propelling itself toward Jenny with horrifying speed.

  Jenny’s grip on her bell tightened, prepared to unleash her power as her earring glowed slightly, when suddenly a figure darted in from the side.

  Thin, silver threads shot through the air in a blur, entwining the monstrous figure in a web so thick that it was completely immobilized before it could make contact.

  It hit the ground with a heavy thud, twitching as it struggled against the ensnaring threads.

  Jenny and Stewart both turned sharply toward the newcomer. A man in a grey robe stood casually nearby, his expression one of calm kindness. His right hand, the one that had launched the webbing, was concealed once more within his robes.

  He gave a slight bow. “Apologies for the abrupt interference,” he said smoothly, his voice level and composed. “I only wished to help.”

  Stewart narrowed his eyes, his tongue twitching slightly as if ready to strike again. “Magic use on the streets is illegal without approval.” His voice was firm, though he didn’t immediately strike the man down. “We’ll let it slide this time, since you assisted. But be careful.”

  The man raised his hands in a show of innocence. “Of course, of course. It won’t happen again without permission. I’m new to the town and wasn’t fully aware of the regulations. I simply acted on instinct.”

  Jenny’s gaze remained sharp as she studied him. “Who are you?”

  The man smiled, dipping his head slightly in greeting. “Bob Abatos. Of the new Abatos family. I recently arrived in Reinhart and hope to assist in its growth.”

  Jenny and Stewart exchanged glances. The name was unfamiliar, and something about the man’s aura was… off.

  Not necessarily threatening, but veiled in a way that made them wary. The insignia on his robe, the ease with which he had restrained the monster, and the way he spoke all hinted at someone more capable than he let on.

  Still, he had helped. And right now, they had bigger things to deal with.

  Jenny’s fingers brushed the bell at her hip as she looked back at the struggling creature on the ground.

  The parasite still pulsed, its grotesque tendrils writhing beneath the decayed flesh like living veins desperately clinging to existence.

  A sickly, rhythmic twitch ran through its form, as if it were aware—afraid, even—of its own impending demise. Jenny, crouching slightly, hesitated for just a moment before reaching toward it, eyes narrowed in focused curiosity.

  Then, with a violent convulsion, the parasite spasmed and burst like a swollen boil, releasing a wave of thick, rancid pus.

  The vile fluid splattered across the ground, steaming faintly in the cool night air, its acrid stench spreading like a sickness through the street. A few onlookers gagged, recoiling in horror, while others covered their noses with sleeves and scarves.

  Jenny flinched, relief washing over her when she realized none of it had landed on her. She let out a breath, shaking off the unease before quickly ringing her bell again—its chime sharp and commanding in the thick air.

  “We need to preserve whatever’s left,” she said, gaze locked onto the remains. “This thing needs to be analyzed—Burt and Abel will want to see it.”

  Nearby, Stuart stepped forward, his face twisted in disgust but his tone steady. “You—go around and start asking questions.” He gestured to one of the officers, who immediately nodded and jogged off. “Find out where this thing came from, if anyone saw it before it got into town, and if there are more.”

  His expression darkened as he turned back to Jenny. “We need to get to the bottom of this. Fast.”