Types of Arts

Morning came, and the three of them met at their usual spot. Toby was the first to arrive, followed shortly by Victor. Mark was the last, his head bowed, his face shadowed by regret.

He approached hesitantly and spoke in a low voice. "I… I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday."

Victor offered a small nod. "Don't dwell on it too much. I understand what you were trying to do."

Relief washed over Mark's face as he gave a faint smile. It was clear he appreciated Victor's understanding despite his outburst.

To lighten the somber mood, Victor changed the topic. "Oh, right. I did some digging about Shefferd Town." He handed them a piece of paper. "It turns out Tomas did have connections with the pastors there."

Mark's eyes brightened. "So, it's true. They might be involved in his—"

"Hold on," Victor interrupted. "We can't jump to conclusions and say they 'killed' Tomas. All we know is he became a pastor there."

Toby chimed in, "There's a chance we can learn more if we go to Shefferd Town."

"But how? It's not like we can make a quick trip there—it's too far from District two," Mark pointed out.

Victor raised a hand. "I'll go. Portal and summoning magic are my specialty. I can create a portal to any place I've been, so we can save time."

Both of them stared in astonishment. Portal magic was exceedingly rare—it was part of Dark Art, a branch of magic feared for its heavy price.

Magic was divided into three categories: Light Art, Dark Art, and Common Art. Everyone underwent a ritual to summon either the Book of Light or the Book of Darkness, determined by an ancient incantation taught by beings from another world.

The summoned book chose its wielder, and once it appeared, the first page opened, requiring a drop of blood to forge a contract. After forming a contract, the book will grant one random ability to that person.

For Light Art, the contract was simple: provide a drop of blood annually. In exchange, the wielder gained access to powers like healing, barriers, anti-magic, and more.

Dark Art, however, demanded a heavier price: the wielder's soul. Upon death, the book's creator would claim their soul. In return, the user gained access to powerful spells like summoning, necromancy, portals, and more.

Given its cost, few dared to accept a contract with a Dark Art book, even if chosen. Most choose to study Common Art, the neutral magic taught in schools.

Toby hesitated before asking, "Wait… You're a Dark Art user?"

Victor lit a cigarette and smirked. "Is that a problem?"

"N-no, but… isn't your soul the price for that power?" Toby's voice trembled with concern.

Victor exhaled a puff of smoke. "Yes and no."

Mark frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Yes, the contract requires a soul," Victor explained. "But I found a way to change the terms. Instead of waiting for death, I gave up my soul immediately in exchange for full access to every spell in the book."

Their jaws dropped. "You… you're serious?" Mark stammered.

Victor shrugged casually. "Completely. I negotiated a deal, my soul in exchange for unlimited and advance access to the book. To sweeten the deal, I asked for a grace period until midnight before my soul was taken."

"But… how are you alive if you've already lost your soul?" Mark pressed.

Victor's smirk widened. "That's the clever part. One of the book's abilities is necromancy, the power to revive the dead. There's also a spell for soul manipulation. I used the time I bargained for to bind another soul to my body. When the contract was sealed, my original soul was gone, but I was still alive."

Toby looked horrified. "You… replaced your own soul?"

"Precisely," Victor said, taking another drag. "And I can do it repeatedly if necessary. The entity behind the book never saw it coming."

Mark's curiosity got the better of him. "But… wouldn't they try to reclaim it?"

Victor chuckled darkly, his voice carrying a sharp edge. "Hmm, I don't think it can interfere once the contract is sealed. That's why it hasn't come after me for what I did."

Toby raised an eyebrow, a grin forming on his lips. "In other words, you outsmarted that entity."

"Something like that," Victor replied with a sly smirk. "It probably never anticipated I'd pull it off using two of the abilities hidden within the book."

The two stood in amazement of Victor, not just because he had outsmarted the entity, but because of the sheer power of the Dark Arts. With unlimited access to every spell in the book, Victor had tapped into its full potential.

This limitless power was also why he wasn't afraid to use a Forbidden Spell. The ability to resurrect himself at will was something that defied belief, a power most could only dream of.

As the two watched him, Victor lowered his body, his index finger glowing faintly. With a precise movement, he drew a small circle in the ground before straightening his posture, hands sliding casually into his pockets. He began to chant, his voice steady yet unintelligible to his companions.

"What do you think he's doing?" Toby asked, glancing at Mark.

"Looks like some kind of incantation," Mark replied, nodding in agreement.

Within seconds, a powerful gust of wind erupted from the circle, which began to expand. Strange symbols lined the edges, glowing faintly—a language only Victor seemed to comprehend.

Curiosity got the better of Toby, and he hesitated before asking, "Uh, Mr. Noir, can you tell us what these symbols mean?"

Victor's gaze flicked to him briefly, his expression calm yet unreadable. "They're inscriptions used to cast incantations in the Dark Arts. Anyone who reads them without mastering the craft will be cursed for eternity."

Toby swallowed hard at the warning, deciding it was better not to press further.

Victor turned his attention back to the glowing circle and spoke again, his tone decisive. "I'll use this portal to head to District Eight. Afterward, I'll make my way to District Ten to mark the area. You two should start your patrols. I'll be back before noon."

Without waiting for a response, he stepped into the circle. The two instinctively snapped to attention, offering a salute just as the portal swallowed him.

For a moment, they exchanged uneasy glances, slightly unnerved by how the portal swallowed him whole. But then again, this was Victor Noir—nothing about him was ever ordinary. Pushing aside their concerns, they turned to begin their duties, trusting he'd return as promised.

*

In less than a minute, Victor arrived in a narrow alleyway in District Eight. Stepping out casually, he blended into the surroundings and flagged down a taxi.

Once inside, he gave a simple instruction. "District Ten."

The driver nodded and began the journey. After several hours, the taxi arrived at its destination. District Ten was unlike any other districts Victor had seen. It resembled a countryside village where the locals seemed resistant to technological advancements.

Unlike the larger districts, which boasted sprawling urban landscapes with three or four towns each, District Ten consisted of only two small towns. Its isolation from the rest of the districts was evident, requiring a 50-kilometer-long bridge to cross over.

Victor glanced out of the car window, studying the rustic scenery. As the car came to a stop, he handed the driver his fare. "Thank you."

The driver gave a brief nod before driving away.

Looking at the modest homes lining the streets, Victor muttered to himself, "So, this is District Ten. It's nothing like I imagined. Almost every house is made of bamboo… it reminds me of the villages I saw in the Philippines during that field trip when I was still at the academy." He smirked, a faint hint of nostalgia flickering across his face.

From there, he started walking toward Shefferd Town. Along the way, he spotted a detective standing nearby. His steps slowed as he observed the man, who had already noticed him. The detective seemed surprised to see another detective in the area.

The man approached Victor, pulling something out from his coat. "Good morning. Geo George, A-rank detective." He held up his Supreme Card as identification. "What's a detective from another district doing here in District Ten?"

Victor calmly handed over his own Supreme Card. The man inspected it as Victor spoke. "I'm heading to Shefferd Town. I've heard it's a deeply religious town, and there's something I want to investigate."

Before the conversation could continue, a voice called out from behind the man. "Oh? Mr. Noir, what brings you here?"

Turning around, Geo found himself face-to-face with Darn Kelly, the leader of Squad Eight. Raising an eyebrow, Geo asked, "Boss, you know him?"

Darn chuckled lightly. "It's written on his Supreme Card, isn't it? He's the leader of Squad Seven."

Geo's eyes widened as he took a second look at the card. "Ah, my apologies!" he exclaimed, snapping to attention with a salute. "I didn't realize it because I only focused on your rank."

"Watch your words, Geo," Darn warned. "His position outranks yours—"

Victor interrupted smoothly. "It's fine. Honestly, I don't put much weight on rank. A person's strength is measured by their abilities, not their title." His gaze locked briefly with Darn's, his tone calm but firm.

Darn seemed unfazed and simply nodded in agreement. "Fair point," he said. "But back to my question—what are you doing here? Aren't you assigned to District Two?"

Victor's eyes wandered as if lost in thought before he answered, "I'm looking for something in Shefferd Town."