Chapter 52

Ercale reacted instantly.

A flicker—then he was gone from where he stood, leaving behind only a faint, sparking afterimage that fizzled out like the tail of a dying comet. In the span of a heartbeat, he reappeared behind the staff member, faster than the eye could follow. The man barely had time to widen his eyes.

"Wha—!"

Ercale clamped a hand over his mouth before the cry could echo, pressing his palm tight. The staff member bucked and twisted, his muffled shouts growing frantic as he tried in vain to tear the hand away. Fingers clawed at Ercale's wrist, nails scratching skin. Doing absolutely nothing. Useless.

"Shh. Shh. Don't worry," Ercale murmured, his tone almost casual. "I'm not gonna kill you."

With a sharp kick to the back of the knee, he brought the man crashing down. The staff member crumpled, knees slamming hard against the stone. Ercale followed him down, keeping his hand firmly in place. A faint spark crackled from his fingertips—barely visible, just enough to numb the nerves in the man's mouth. His tongue twitched. His jaw slackened slightly. He wouldn't be screaming anytime soon.

"Don't squirm," Ercale said calmly. "Or I might accidentally fry your brain."

The staff member stiffened. Whether from threat or electricity, it didn't matter.

Ercale's hands shifted, gliding up to cradle the sides of the man's head. His touch was almost gentle, but then came the sparks. Dozens—hundreds—of them, so small they danced beneath the skin like static under paper. They wormed into the nervous system, invisible to the naked eye. Controlled. Precise.

The man's eyes rolled upward. His limbs gave a final shudder.

"That's it," Ercale whispered, eyes half-lidded, voice smooth with concentration. "Forget all about me."

He held the connection a moment longer, ensuring the subtle rewiring was complete. Not just a wiped memory—he altered the sequence. The man would think he came in, relaxed in the spring, and left alone.

Ercale exhaled, easing his grip as the sparks faded. "And you know what?" he added quietly, "I'll even give you the energy you came here for."

He focused, drawing the faint divine residue from the chamber into the man's body—just enough to mimic a proper session. A gift. Or a cover.

Then he let go.

The staff member slumped forward onto the floor with a groan, dazed and twitching but alive. None the wiser.

Ercale didn't wait.

He used Spectral Steps once more, and his form dissolved into shifting light. He leapt upward and outward, passing cleanly through the stone wall of the chamber. No flash. No sound. Just the faint ripple of disturbed air.

He emerged several blocks away, landing on the quiet street with the same effortless grace he always did. Not even the dust stirred at his feet.

Behind him, the coliseum loomed, silent and distant in the moonlight.

Ercale glanced over his shoulder one last time.

Then he turned.

And walked.

"Now," he muttered, voice low and unreadable, "we just wait."

— — —

Back in the chamber, the staff member stirred with a low groan, eyes fluttering open as he rolled weakly onto his side. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What… what happened?" he mumbled, pushing himself upright with unsteady hands. His gaze swept the stone walls and the soft glow of the spring. "Why am I on the floor?"

He rubbed at the back of his head, wincing slightly. "Wasn't I just… in the spring? Relaxing?" His voice trailed off as he blinked down at his uniform, noting the faint dampness on his sleeves. "Goddess, did I slip and fall?"

A grimace. Then a self-deprecating scoff. "Ugh… I would be the idiot who falls during a damn energy soak…"

He staggered fully to his feet, brushing his pants off and glancing around. Everything seemed normal—quiet, still. Nothing out of place. Yet a strange unease clung to the back of his mind like a half-remembered dream.

"Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something…?" he muttered, scratching absently at his temple.

But no matter how he searched his thoughts, the answer wouldn't come. Just silence and fog.

"Eh," he finally shrugged, letting his arms fall to his sides. "If I forgot it, it's probably not anything important."

He stretched his arms overhead, releasing a light groan as his joints cracked. "Welp, time to get back to making rounds," he said with forced cheer, turning toward the chamber's exit.

Pausing at the door, he glanced back once more, a puzzled look flickering over his face.

"It is weird though… I don't feel sore at all. Not even a bruise. Does just being around the spring heal you?" He blinked. "Ah, whatever. I'm just thinking too much."

With that, he stepped through the doorway and disappeared into the corridor beyond.

— — —

Across the sleeping city, Ercale slipped through the maze of moonlit streets, quiet as breath. Eventually, he came to the side of the Raging Eagle Inn, its wooden frame rising against the sky, familiar and still.

He stopped at the alley wall beneath Xain's window, scanning the surroundings. The streets were dead quiet, empty of even stray cats or dogs. Still, he waited—watching, listening.

When satisfied, he brought his palms together and whispered, "Spider Walk."

A shimmer pulsed around his hands, and then he stepped forward—onto the wall itself. His body tilted as if gravity had simply rotated ninety degrees. Each footfall was silent, smooth, as he walked up the side of the inn with unbothered grace, like strolling across a garden path.

At the window, Ercale slipped smoothly inside, landing soundlessly in the room. The air was cool, a faint breeze drifting in behind him from the night outside. Xain lay sprawled on the bed, limbs tangled in the sheets, one arm drooping off the side. His mouth hung slightly open, a soft snore rising with every breath.

Ercale turned and closed the window behind him with care, shutting out the night air. Then he crossed the room, hands resting on his hips as he looked down at the sleeping figure, unimpressed.

"A construction crew could be outside and you'd be none the wiser, huh?" he muttered, exhaling through his nose. He gave a small shake of his head, rolling his eyes.

Then, without another word, he stepped forward—and his body lost all form.

His outline collapsed inward, melting down into a dark, fluid shadow. It poured across the floor, thick and quiet like oil, before merging cleanly into Xain's own shadow by the bed.

Within the mental space, Ercale reappeared in his usual room—dimly lit, the TV screen before the couch silent and dark. He moved over with slow steps and dropped onto the couch with a low grunt.

*I suppose I should go to 'sleep' as well,* he murmured, eyes closing as he leaned back, draping one arm across his stomach.

The room went still.

*I really hope it works,* Ercale whispered to himself, *and you come back.*