Isaac always heard that a weak man’s value was determined by the strong men who led him.

  Back then, after years of being another face to fill the ranks, he believed it. Years of being dragged through countless missions and adventures in the endless expanse of the Ether had singed the idea deep into his mind.

  But now, as he sat perched against cold metal railings of a catwalk high above the VIP section of a dimly lit opera hall, he spat in open defiance of the very nature of this world.

  Taking the last draw of his smoldering cigar, he inhaled deeply, the smoke burning his lungs before exhaling slowly. The unfurling smoke danced in the air as if alive, its incandescent glow shimmering with magic.

  His eyes glowing bright as it took effect.

  **********

  [System Alert: Temporary Status Effect Active]

  [Duration: 7 minutes, 22 seconds]

  **********

  Isaac’s lips curved into a quiet smile as his gaze drifted over the audience below. Now bright with a temporary though quiet effective night vision.

  The opera hall was a breathtaking display of wealth and artistry—a world far removed from his own.

  Where he would have envisioned simple layered brick and mortar stood tiered balconies lining the chamber walls, each adorned with carvings of mythical beasts and legendary hunters.

  At the center, a gilded arch framed the stage, its intricate designs recounting stories of heroes and ancient battles through heavy tapestries, where Isaac would have just thought to place curtains.

  Surrounded by this beauty, Isaac felt out of place. His scuffed boots and scarred hands did not belong in this version of the world. The audience below, dressed in silks and jewels, seemed like creatures from another life.

  To Isaac, they seemed more alien than the beasts he fought to protect them from.

  The beasts, at least, were honest. Their rage, their hunger, their malevolence, all of it made sense in a way these people ever could.

  Here, among velvet seats and gilded halls, Isaac felt more like the monster than the protector and he could not help but hate how much he loved it.

  Tossing his cigar into the darkness below, Isaac reached into his pocket, and touched the worn surface of a folded letter, a cherished memento from his late father, a Hunter in the days of humanity's first stand against the monsters from the other world.

  It served as his only source of reassurance despite Isaac never being able to bring himself to read it throughout his twenty-one years.

  Though admittingly, most, if not all of them, were spent for another. He himself had achieved nothing more than the title of a man who aged well beyond his years. This was no more evident than in the scars criss-crossing his body, face, and even his scalp, which divided his short, brown hair hiding untold damage.

  The years had not been kind to him, however, now, Isaac knew, now was not the time to reminisce.

  Isaac tore his thoughts away from the past and focused on the stage below as the orchestra’s first enchanting opening notes echoed through the crowned chamber, sending vibrations up the catwalk as his eyes locked onto his target below, his heart drumming in response.

  The performance may have already begun, but Isaac’s role in the night’s drama was just beginning.

  His first task: photographing the high Oiran while she worked.

  Normally, this type of work wouldn’t even draw an ounce of fear from Isaac, but espionage was not his forte.

  Alongside that, this wasn’t some low-level target, this woman used her charm and beauty to get close to various high-ranking members of the twenty Main Houses and possessed compromising knowledge that could, in theory, be the end of them.

  More importantly, she valued her privacy and would use her extensive connections, legal or not, to protect it.

  Unfortunately for her, however, Isaac's employers had a theory about her true identity that, along with the hefty sum of money they offered, was like music to his ears.

  Even still, his nerves were getting the best of him as he had nothing but his own doubtful whispers, the murmuring of the crowd below, and his father’s letter to accompany his thoughts as he knew he was making the worst decision of his life.

  He grabbed a hold of the camera attached to his hip before taking a deep breath. Isaac closed his eyes as he began to shut everything out other than his current purpose, which began to calm himself.

  That was until the opera house roared to life. Blinding spotlights illuminated the stage as the orchestra swelled, each note reverberating through the opera house like a battle cry. Violins climbed sharply, deep drums pounded like the march of a distant army, and brass horns roared as the haunting choir rose in harmony.

  “Greatness, ladies and gentlemen; the very weight of a man is measured by all that he pursues and tonight, we honor those who fought to shape our world, by telling the story of the collision of two realms!”

  The crowd erupted into applause as the curtains rose, revealing an intricate set: half resembling a futuristic city of steel and glass, the other a forest of twisted, glowing trees. Actors filled the stage, dressed in costumes that evoked the clashing worlds: scientists in lab coats and soldiers wielding firearms on one side with druids, and mythical beasts on the other.

  Isaac, however, was startled by the sudden swell of sound. His hands instinctively flew upward to shield himself, causing the camera he held in his hands to go flying from his grasp. But, that was not the worst of it, his father’s cherished letter had followed, fluttering toward the edge of the catwalk.

  “Damn it!” he hissed, lunging forward. The world seemed to slow as he reached desperately for the camera. His fingers brushed the strap just as it tipped over the edge, securing it to his chest.

  But the letter... it danced in the air, drifting toward the stage far below. Isaac froze, torn between relief and panic, as the theater below erupted into cheers for the next act.

  Rushing toward the edge of the railing, Isaac leaped off of the catwalk, flying above the murmuring of the crowd below that seemed to fade into the background as he stretched his arm as far as he could, straining to reclaim the letter from his father that had always been his source of strength.

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  Just as the letter teetered on the brink of escaping, Isaac's fingers brushed against its edge.

  With a surge of conviction, he managed to hook one corner, drawing it back from the edge of oblivion. Thinking quickly as he’d begun to fall, Isaac hooked his feet around the edge of the catwalk railing, stopping him from plummeting into the crowd below.

  Clutching the letter tightly to his chest alongside the camera, Isaac closed his eyes briefly, collecting himself as he swung back and forth.

  The near-loss of his father’s letter, combined with the urgency of the moment, had rekindled his resolve despite the fear and doubt that had gripped him moments ago.

  Gripping the camera and tucking the letter securely away, Isaac steadied himself against the railing.

  The opera house continued to buzz with energy and life even as the roaring music began to settle, and the lights began to dim as the crowd's roaring cheers filled the air.

  However, Isaac was now in the worst position possible as he realized he was suspended directly above the Oiran by only a few feet. Allowing him to see her, the well-dressed man next to her, and the bodyguards hidden in the shadows.

  The hulking lumps of muscle and fabric acting as her security were all dressed in identical suits and masks and likely carrying firearms from the way they were standing.

  “Shi-” Throwing a trembling hand over his own mouth, Isaac cut himself off.

  Isaac's heart raced as he clung to the catwalk railing, barely daring to breathe. Below him, the Oiran moved gracefully among the VIP section, her presence commanding attention and respect as she seduced her partner for the night.

  The relief of rescuing his father's letter and the camera quickly faded as the imminent danger closed in around him.

  His eyes continued to dart nervously between the Oiran, the man, and the intimidating figures lurking in the shadows until Isaac realized his vantage point offered a direct view of the scene unfolding below.

  “Not what I planned but if it works, it works…right?” Thought Isaac as his face began to shine red from the blood rushing to his face.

  Fighting to control his trembling hands, Isaac raised the camera to his eye, adjusting the lens to capture the scene. A rush of exhilaration surged through him as he focused on the Oiran's face, recognizing the features that confirmed his suspicions.

  This woman, whose identity was shrouded in mystery and allure, was none other than Lysandra Rain, the firstborn of the powerful head of the Kraken House—a revelation that could shake the foundations of the twenty Main Houses. The very idea of her being exposed in this way was scandalous, but what made it even more staggering was her companion.

  Seated beside her, his expression composed but his posture laced with tension, was none other than Kael Haze—the firstborn son of the House of the Dragon. Isaac's heart raced.

  The heirs of two of the most dominant Houses, sharing company with the future leader of their sworn rival?

  The Kraken and Dragon Houses had feuded for generations, their animosity woven into the very fabric of their shared history. For Lysandra and Kael to be seen together—alone, in a place like this—wasn’t just forbidden. It was incendiary, a political powder keg that could spark chaos among the elite.

  A wild grin spread across Isaac's lips as excitement and apprehension coursed through him. Capturing photographic evidence of this clandestine meeting could catapult him into a dangerous game of political intrigue and power struggles. The stakes had just been raised exponentially.

  However, a more pressing thought crossed his mind: this was also a chance to reclaim his standing, to prove himself to be more than his premature level cap, and all from a simple photo.

  Yet, even as he contemplated his next move, Isaac knew the risks were immense. Discovery would mean certain death or worse—a fate he couldn't afford to face. Every fiber of his being urged caution, reminding him of the thin line he treaded between opportunity and peril.

  The opera house hummed with anticipation, oblivious to the drama unfolding high above.

  Isaac's mind raced with possibilities, his gaze flickering between the people in the camera's view as he weighed his options and wrestled with the weight of his decision, knowing that one click of the shutter could change everything.

  Gathering his resolve, Isaac adjusted the focus of the camera, ensuring every detail would be captured with clarity and precision. His heart pounded in his chest; each beat a drumroll of anticipation as he prepared to press the faith-filled button.

  Just as his finger hovered over the trigger, a sudden movement caught his eye. One of the bodyguards shifted, his gaze sweeping upward toward the catwalk where Isaac hung concealed. Panic surged through Isaac's veins, freezing him in place for a fleeting moment.

  Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Isaac’s thoughts raced through his mind. Should he risk capturing the damning photograph, potentially exposing the Oiran's secret and reaping the rewards? Or should he retreat, abandoning the mission to preserve his own safety?

  Before he could decide, fate intervened in the form of a distant commotion. Down below, the opera house erupted into chaos as a scuffle broke out among the guests, and a small fire sprung to life. The sudden distraction provided Isaac with a narrow window of opportunity—a chance to act swiftly before attention returned to the catwalk.

  Taking his chances, Isaac made his choice. Ignoring the pounding of his heart and the sweat that trickled down his brow, he steadied the camera once more. In one fluid motion, he framed the Oiran and Kael in the viewfinder, capturing the moment that would change everything.

  Click.

  The sound of the shutter echoed faintly in the cavernous hall, a whisper amidst the cacophony of the opera house. As the image processed in the camera's lens, Isaac held his breath as he’d glossed over one very important detail.

  To turn off the flash.

  The camera’s flash, compared to the dimly lit opera house, was like a lighting strike so intense it could have blinded the sun itself.

  Isaac froze, as his jaw hung open in stunned horror, locked in place by his own stupidity.

  Below, Lysandra Rain’s head snapped upward, her piercing gaze locking onto him. She didn’t move, not yet, but her bone chilling stare burned into him like a branding iron. It was one he certainly would not forget any time soon.

  Kael however remained motionless, but the guards surrounding them were already on the move, as Isaac stared wide eyed through his camera lens before pursing his lips into a sheepish smile and scrambling to his feet.

  Tearing down the catwalk, Isaac felt the metal platform beneath his boots undulate like a violent wave. His heart pounded in sync with the relentless drumming of gunshots that echoed behind him.

  Panic surged through him as he glanced back to see the three massive guards racing across the platform, their presence casting a chilling shadow over his chances to escape.

  "Oh, God!" screamed Isaac.

  His voice cracked with fear as he sprinted for his life, his breaths labored against the backdrop of blaring opera music that failed to drown out the chaos unfolding around him.

  Trembling with adrenaline, he bolted towards the window he had pried open moments ago to infiltrate the rafters of the opera house. The chaos he had hoped to avoid was now sweeping through the audience below, their voices blending into a cacophony of terror as Isaac’s mind focused on his escape, drowning everything else out.

  Bounding over to the window, Isaac hurled himself through the narrow opening, barely escaping the danger behind him. The impact of his landing on the wooden beams that supported the building jolted through his aching bones, but he wasted no time, immediately scrambling through the rafters with reckless abandon.

  Balancing precariously on the wooden beams, Isaac's focus was singular—escape at any cost. As he reached the far side, he glanced back just in time to see the first of the three bodyguards clamoring through the shattered window he had left behind.

  "Ha!" Isaac yelled out in a laugh, as he watched the first guard struggle through the shattered window, but the second didn’t bother—he bulldozed through the wall with a crash, sending splinters flying.

  "Fuck!" screamed Isaac.

  His fear surged anew as he sprinted toward the front of the opera house, the exit sign beckoning like a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. Every step brought him closer to freedom, yet danger lurked just behind.

  "Get over here!" one of the masked men yelled as loud as he could.

  As Isaac reached the exit, he slammed through the door, relief and adrenaline surging through him. The icy night air hit him like a slap, stealing his breath as he cast himself off the balcony. Plunging into the darkness, the wind tore at him, and the echoes of his pursuers' shouts faded into the night.