The Quiet Testament

Soon, the law enforcement arrived.

A group of officers stepped out of rune-marked transport vehicles, their heavy coats shifting with the breeze. They moved with quiet confidence, their sharp eyes scanning the area. Their presence alone made it clear, they had handled situations like this before.

Leading them was a tall elven male with silver-streaked hair. His uniform carried an emblem, a black sun eclipsing a crescent moon, the mark of the city's Investigative Unit. His sharp gaze settled on Ian and Myrra.

"You two were the ones attacked?" he asked.

"Yes," Ian confirmed.

"Tell me everything."

Ian and Myrra recounted the attack in detail, how the humanoid figures moved, fought, and how they were nearly overwhelmed before Urimaer intervened. The officers listened carefully, exchanging looks.

"Urimaer said they were from the Quiet Testament," Ian added.

The leader nodded. "He's right."

"Do you remember any reason why they would come after you? Any past connection?"

Ian shook his head. "No. This is the first time we've even heard of them."

"Not surprising," the officer said grimly. "They prefer to stay hidden."

Another officer, a woman with a cold stare, added, "They're infamous across the stars, banned in most civilized worlds. Even being linked to them is punishable by death in some places. But they haven't been active here. A direct attack like this… it means something has changed."

Myrra swallowed. "Then… what do they want from us?"

The leader exhaled. "That's what we intend to find out. Until then, stay alert. You're already on their list."

Ian nodded. "We will."

The leader turned to one of his subordinates. "You stay with them. Make sure they're protected."

The officer gave a firm nod.

"If you remember anything else, let us know immediately," the leader said. "We'll be looking into this. If we find anything, we'll update you."

With that, the officers left, leaving Ian and Myrra under guard

Reina and Rhys arrived soon after, their expressions tense. Apparently, Urimaer had informed them.

"What the hell happened?" Rhys demanded, his usual lightheartedness gone. "Esar Urimaer said you were attacked."

Reina's gaze flickered between Myrra and Ian. "Are you two alright?"

"We're fine," Ian assured them. "But… it was close."

Reina frowned. "The Quiet Testament, huh?"

"You've heard of them?" Ian asked.

Reina's voice was low, almost cautious. "The Quiet Testament isn't just some extremist cult or a terrorist faction. They are something far worse, a shadow stretching across history, always just out of reach."

Rhys exhaled sharply. "There are records of them dating back further than most civilizations we know today. And where those records end? Those civilizations do too. Entire empires, entire species, gone. Not conquered, not ruined, just… erased, like they were never meant to exist in the first place."

Reina folded her arms. "They don't seek power, wealth, or control. They act, and then they disappear, leaving only silence in their wake. Every time they surface, something vanishes, sometimes a city, sometimes an entire planet."

Myrra clenched her fists. "Then… why are they after us?"

Reina shook her head. "That's what makes this even more unsettling. They don't act on impulse. They don't waste time on insignificant targets. If they showed up here, in the open, it means whatever they want is worth the risk of exposure."

Ian exhaled. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"The Investigative Unit will be looking into it," Reina said. "I'll pull some strings and see what I can find."

Rhys let out a breath. "I came here to take you both to my estate, figured you'd be safer there. But it's probably not necessary." He gave a slight nod to Master Ordan.

They stayed a little longer, discussing possible motives and ensuring Ian and Myrra were safe, before finally taking their leave.

In an Unknown Location

Cairon knelt before a woman, head bowed. Even without looking up, he felt the weight of her presence, intoxicating and absolute. If Ian saw her now, he would recognize her instantly, the same woman from the museum. Back then, she had followed Cairon obediently, her demeanor soft, almost meek. But here, bathed in the dim glow of flickering lanterns, she was something else entirely.

She lounged on an ornate seat, her body wrapped in sheer silks that clung to her curves, shifting with every slight movement. The fabric barely concealed her, meant more to entice than to cover, teasing glimpses of smooth skin beneath. A heavy pendant hung between her collarbones, drawing attention to the slow rise and fall of her breath. 

Long, dark lashes framed eyes that glowed with cruel amusement as she regarded him, her lips curling into a smirk. "You couldn't do a simple job?" she murmured, her voice sultry yet edged with something sharp.

Cairon bowed lower. "I… misjudged the human's strength. He is—stronger than expected."

A soft chuckle escaped her, low and indulgent, like she was savoring his failure. "So you failed."

His shoulders tensed. "I will make up for it. I'll send more—"

"Are you an idiot?" The honeyed amusement in her voice vanished, replaced by icy irritation. She leaned forward, the silks shifting, exposing more of her smooth legs as she rested her chin on one hand, nails tapping lightly against her cheek. "They will be looking for us now. We've already lost the advantage. Any further attempts would only tighten their defenses. You've turned a simple extraction into a trap."

She exhaled, brushing a finger along the edge of her pendant before meeting his gaze with something between disappointment and amusement. "The Lord's blood in the girl's body is important, but not worth exposing ourselves further. For now, we remain quiet. We already know where she is. We will monitor her. And when the time is right, we will extract it, directly from her."

Cairon swallowed hard, then lowered his head once more. "I will follow your instructions, my Lady."

Back at Master Ordan's Residence

Ian lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind whirled with unanswered questions.

What was their purpose? What did they want? Was it him? Unlikely. The way they fought, it wasn't him they were after. It was Myrra.

And that was what troubled him the most. If they wanted her, why now? She had lived in Lylva far longer than he had. With their reach and influence, shouldn't they have taken action before? 

He needed to understand more about The Quiet Testament. To get to the bottom of this. For his safety. And for Myrra's.

And there was one name that kept surfacing in his thoughts. Cairon.

It was a long shot, but the more Ian thought about it, the more it made sense. Cairon was suspicious, the way he had been paying attention to Myrra. Too much attention. It wasn't just passing interest or idle curiosity. It was deliberate. Calculated. 

And if a direct descendant of a major family was connected to The Quiet Testament… that was alarming. But he couldn't rule out others like Rhys, Reina or other people he had met after coming here.

Still, amid all these thoughts, Ian found a small sense of satisfaction. He had improved. He hadn't been passive like he was during the ruins incident.

The months of relentless training had paid off. His instincts had sharpened, his control over Assemble and Disassemble had become more fluid. Normally, performing it multiple times in rapid succession should have been impossible. It demanded precision, mental strain, and energy far beyond what most could handle. But Ian had Mindbloom. It allowed him to sustain the technique far longer than anyone else, to push beyond normal limits. Combined with his enhancements from the Eldritch Path, he had fought with a strength that even surprised him.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Ian, are you awake?" Myrra's voice.

"Yeah, come in."

The door opened, and she stepped inside. The dim glow of the room's lanterns cast a soft shimmer over her, highlighting the smooth curves of her form beneath a thin nightdress. The fabric hugged her in all the right places, swaying gently as she moved. Her black hair, slightly tousled, tumbled over her shoulders, strands catching the light like molten silk. There was something intoxicating about the way she stood, hesitant yet utterly mesmerizing.

Ian sat up. "Can't sleep?"

Myrra hesitated, then nodded. "I… don't want to be alone tonight. Can I stay here?"

He studied her for a moment before shifting to the side. "Yeah. Of course."

She slipped under the covers beside him, her warmth seeping into his skin almost immediately. She smelled faintly of lavender, mixed with something uniquely her. Curling up slightly, she let out a quiet sigh. "Thanks."

Silence stretched between them, but this time, it was warm. Comforting.

"Ian… do you think they'll come again?" she whispered.

He exhaled. "Probably. But I won't let them take you."

Myrra turned to face him. "You promise?"

"I do."

Myrra's lips curved into a small, relieved smile. Slowly, she reached out, her fingers grazing his. Ian hesitated only a moment before taking her hand fully, their fingers intertwining in a quiet promise.

"Then I'll sleep well tonight."

She closed her eyes. Ian stayed awake a little longer, watching over her, until sleep finally claimed him as well.

The Next Morning

Ian woke to warmth pressed against him, the steady rise and fall of Myrra's breath against his chest. At some point in the night, she had shifted closer, her body curled against his, her leg draped over his. His arm had instinctively settled around her waist, holding her close. She was impossibly warm, her scent light and sweet, and for a moment, he simply lay there, caught between comfort and the weight of reality.

A soft murmur escaped her lips as she stirred, her fingers brushing against his skin. Then, slowly, wakefulness crept in. She shifted, blinking sleepily, until realization struck.

She tensed. Her breath hitched.

Ian barely had time to smirk before Myrra jolted upright, her entire face turning crimson. "I—uh—"

"Comfortable?" he teased, his voice still rough with sleep.

Myrra scrambled back so fast she nearly fell off the bed. "I wasn't—!" She huffed, brushing a hand through her hair, her nightdress slipping slightly off her shoulder before she yanked it back up.

"It was cold!" she declared, as if that explained everything.

Ian arched a brow. "Right. And that's why you were practically wrapped around me?"

Her glare could have cut steel. Lips parting like she wanted to argue, she faltered, then huffed and spun toward the door. "Whatever. I'm getting breakfast."

Ian chuckled as she stalked off, the pink still dusting her cheeks.

But as he sat up, the warmth of the moment faded, replaced by a familiar weight. There were still too many unanswered questions.

And he intended to find those answers.