The wind howling over the cliffs of SolThanor carried the scent of dry rot and ancient dust. Perched on the precipice, a figure materialized as if the air itself had decided to condense into a man.

  He wore a bellboy's uniform, pristine against the grime of the ruins. His eyes were curved into permanent crescents, looking forever closed, and his prominent front teeth gave him the distinct, unsettling appearance of a smiling rabbit. He gazed down at the ghost town, that unfading, calculating grin etched onto his face like a mask.

  He slid a phone from his sleeve with a movement too fluid to be human.

  Thousands of miles away, in a glass monolith piercing the clouds of Zephyria’s capital, a phone buzzed.

  Rok Ishimoto picked it up, pressing it lazily to his ear while gesturing for his assistant to wait.

  "Humanity Rocks Inc.," Rok said, his voice smooth as polished marble.

  "I am happy to let you know that we have received your order of rat poison," the Bellboy said, his tone melodic and overly polite. "Yet, I regret to inform you there has been a delay in the shipment."

  Rok's eyes narrowed. He covered the microphone. "Mira, hold the reservation."

  "Yes, my lord." Mira tapped her tablet. A moment later, a green light pulsed on Rok's desk. "The channel is secured."

  Rok removed his hand from the receiver, his casual demeanor evaporating. "Speak freely."

  "Lord Ishimoto," the Bellboy said, executing a small bow to the empty air of the cliffside. "It is a pleasure making your acquaintance once more."

  "Save me the pleasantries, agent. What's the situation? Is this the level of service your legendary group is known for? Or am I just burning money for the fun of it?"

  "Ah, but my lord," the Bellboy's voice dropped an octave, losing its customer-service sheen. "I do not do this for the money." One eye cracked open—just a sliver of terrifying void. "Money simply marks the target."

  "Right. Because you get off on the espionage," Rok replied, a predatory grin sharpening his features.

  The Bellboy merely chuckled—a dry, rustling sound. He offered nothing else.

  "Let's not get sidetracked," Rok pressed. "You called because someone is sticking their nose where it doesn't belong, correct?"

  "I'm afraid so. The rats are larger than anticipated."

  "Is it an Auron on a level you can't handle? Is that why you ran away, tail between your legs?"

  "Not quite." The Bellboy looked down at his gloved hands. "I have encountered an Auron unlike any other. They have seeded SolThanor with constructs made of their own energy. Thousands of sensors."

  Rok's brow arched. "I was under the impression you were doing the same with that silky wind of yours."

  "Indeed. However, I can only discern where my wind is, or feel when it is disturbed," the Bellboy explained, his voice tightening slightly. "This particular Auron... they could see me through their constructs, I’m positive of it. They tracked me throughout the town, even though I never touched any of their sensors. And worse... they could summon their energy to a construct's location instantly, as if they were physically present."

  Rok paused. He tapped a pen against his mahogany desk. "Ah. Human innovation truly makes my heart sing."

  "My lord, I was nearly captured. I had to take desperate measures to maintain my cover."

  "What measures?"

  "...I had to escape downwards. Into the ancient sewage system." The Bellboy sighed dramatically. "It leads straight to that facility. You know the one."

  Rok winced, dropping the pen. "Ah... Such a shame. Very well. I will take it from here. You make yourself scarce. As far as I'm concerned, your position is compromised. You are hereby dismissed. Leave the area immediately."

  "As you wish, my lord." The Bellboy bowed low again, that smile never faltering even as he was terminated.

  The call ended. Rok turned to his assistant. "Mira. Find me someone who is read-in on the details of that particular lab. I knew it was only a matter of time before we had to bury it." He stood up, walking to the floor-to-ceiling window. "Get me the highest rank you can find. I want a complete cleanup. Level the lab—no, the entire town. Kill anyone in it. Make sure nothing’s left."

  "Of course, Lord Ishimoto." Mira began typing furiously.

  Rok picked up a heavy crystal paperweight and tossed it onto the couch in frustration. "But really, it's such a waste... Someone figured out how to project their abilities remotely, and now they have to die..." He shrugged, adjusting his cufflinks. "At least we know it's possible. Get some brains on it. Have them collude with talented Aurons to crack the theory."

  He grinned at his reflection in the glass. "Humanity will reach its fullest potential. We'll show them."

  Back at the cliff, the Bellboy looked down at his phone, his expression unreadable.

  "Failure is truly unbecoming of me," he muttered to the wind. "But I must face facts. I was outmatched. If I lingered, my cover would have been blown completely—an outcome far worse than failure."

  His aura flared—a sharp, piercing silver that carried none of a hero's warmth. It felt like the edge of a blade against the air as he looked over the edge, down into the heart of SolThanor.

  "Even now, I can feel them cutting my silky wind. This time, I am powerless to stop them... They will find the lab. It is only a matter of time."

  He turned away, starting to dissolve into the air.

  "Hopefully my trap will finish them off. But somehow... I have my doubts."

  30 Minutes Earlier

  The crater in the center of the ruins was still smoking.

  "Look at this, you guys," Red said, crouching at the edge of the pit. He pointed a grey-tinted finger downward. "A deep-ass hole!"

  "Phrasing!" Neiva yelled from behind him.

  Sol peered over the edge, his silver eyes narrowing. "The ghost must have drilled itself down there."

  "Should we go down? What do you think we'd find?" Neiva asked, leaning in cautiously.

  "Only one way to find out," Sol said. He stepped back and pressed his palms against the cracked earth. "You lot might want to give me some space."

  "That probably includes you," Angelo deadpanned, arms crossed. "Unless you want another explosion in your face."

  "Ha!" Sol barked a laugh. "That one didn't count. Emotions ran high, I lost the handle." Silver light began to pool beneath his hands, thick and viscous. "But I figured out a neat little trick during my training."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The group exchanged skeptical glances, backing away nonetheless. Even Blue, who usually lingered for data collection, decided that distance was the better part of valor.

  "Hah!" Sol exhaled sharply.

  Silver veins shot through the ground, spider-webbing outward. The earth didn't explode; it simply ceased to exist. The bonds holding the soil and stone together dissolved, turning solid matter into fine, silver dust.

  "Hey, hey!" Angelo yelped as the ground beneath his boots vanished.

  "I thought you said you had control over this—!"

  Gravity took over before he could finish the sentence. They freefell into the darkness.

  Before they could impact, auras ignited in the gloom—Orange, crimson, azure and Yellow—slowing their descent. They landed with cat-like grace in a tunnel that had been half-excavated by Sol's power.

  Blue straightened, adjusting his imaginary glasses as he peered up at the perfect cylindrical shaft Sol had carved. "Remarkable," he hummed. He turned to Sol. "But Solomon, how is this possible? You severed the atomic bonds, yet there was no significant energy release? No detonation?"

  "Guess 'Explosive Darkness' didn't live up to its name," Red sneered, dusting off his shoulders.

  Sol rolled his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's because it isn't actually explosive darkness. It's atomic bond manipulation. This particular technique uses the energy released from the breakage to fuel the spread of my darkness. It's a chain reaction." He glanced at the Trio. "Not quite REM's level of utility, but not too shabby."

  "Wait just a minute!" Red retorted, pointing a finger. "Shouldn't that just keep chaining forever until the planet is gone?!"

  "Yeah, I was wondering that too," Neiva agreed, looking at the smooth walls.

  Sol chuckled. "Yeah, turns out the spread has a limit proportional to the initial input. Good thing, too. Otherwise, I'd end up disintegrating the earth’s core. Haha."

  "Lucky us," Angelo muttered.

  "Anyways." Sol's expression hardened as he looked down the dark, damp tunnel. "We need to focus. We have more pressing issues."

  "Indeed," Blue noted. He sniffed the air—or simulated the action. "If I were to hazard a guess, this appears to be an old subterranean transit system. Or perhaps sewage."

  "Metro? No way, the town's too small. Gotta be sewage," Neiva said, wrinkling her nose.

  "Well, what are we standing around for?!" Red bounced on his heels. "Let's get moving! We might find something!"

  "Not so fast." Sol grabbed Red's shoulder. "Safety first. How about you two scout ahead? Smoke forms or remote puppets. If there are traps, better they hit something invulnerable."

  "Alright, fine. Let's get moving," Red grumbled, jumping up to perch on Angelo's back like a demonic backpack.

  "What the hell are you doing, hothead?!" Angelo yelled, twisting to look at him.

  "What?" Red feigned innocence, resting his chin on Angelo's head. "Puppets are the better approach. This way my main body isn't half way across town if we get ambushed."

  "Grr..." Angelo grumbled but couldn't argue the logic.

  "Remember," Sol warned. "Keep auras on. Constant vigilance." He turned to Neiva. "You good? Got the stamina for a sustained burn?"

  Neiva crossed her arms, her yellow aura shifting around her like a protective coat. "Humph. What do you take me for? Maybe I was rusty when I started, but don't forget I'm a former tennis prodigy. Stamina is my middle name."

  "Right, right. Not throwing shade, just checking." Sol grinned. "Let's move."

  Blue dissolved into Angelo, and a moment later, an azure puppet materialized from Angelo's chest, darting down the left fork of the tunnel. From Angelo's back, Red concentrated, and a crimson duplicate of himself split off, sprinting down the right.

  The team followed Red's puppet.

  Minutes stretched into an eternity of dripping water and echoing footsteps. Then, they found it.

  Spider webs.

  Thick, glistening strands blocked the path, stretching from floor to ceiling.

  "Again?" Neiva groaned with indignation. Her aura shifted to blue, and she materialized a sharp metal blade in her hand. "I hate spiders." She stepped forward to slash the obstruction.

  "Hold it," Angelo barked.

  His orange eyes squinted at the webs. "That's..." He glanced at Sol. "Hey, Detective. Use that decay vision of yours. Tell me if that looks organic to you."

  Sol blinked, caught off guard, but nodded. His eyes flashed silver as he inspected the strands. He didn't touch them. Finally, he shook his head. "It's not organic. It's not decaying at all. It feels... static. Like your energy constructs."

  "Wait, what?" Neiva lowered her blade.

  "As I thought," Angelo said grimly. "It must be permanent matter created by an Auron. Either a trap or a surveillance network."

  Neiva gasped. "Like that black strand of sticky fire Dray left on you?"

  "Exactly."

  Neiva clicked her fingers. "Then the one behind this must be the ghost we're after!"

  "How'd you figure that?" Sol asked.

  "Because I touched very similar webs in the room I was attacked in! That's how they knew someone was there!"

  "Heh. Not bad, Sugar-Tits," Red said from his perch on Angelo's back, eyes still closed as he piloted his puppet.

  "Don't call me that," Neiva snapped, though there was no real heat in it.

  "Hmm..." Sol began pacing, his hand on his chin.

  "What?" Angelo prompted.

  "Hold on, I need to logic this out." Sol muttered to himself, turning in tight circles. "The presence of these webs proves there is something they want to protect... or hide. If these webs are a surveillance net, then that ghost who's been haunting us was the responder. It didn't just happen to be there; the webs told it we were there."

  Sol paused, tapping his chin. "Now, where do the webs lead? If they're a security system, they could be a direct path to the thing they're guarding. But a truly clever guard might set up a false trail—a dense network of strands that draws the intruder in one direction, while the actual target is hidden a different way."

  His eyes narrowed as he focused on the weave. "No. The ghost responded to our presence, at the edge of the system, setting those webs up to eliminate intruders getting close. The webs themselves are the tripwire, which means the ghost's true focus isn't a distraction, it's us. So if we follow these strands deeper, they'll lead us straight to the heart of the system—the thing it was actually guarding."

  Sol broke into a sprint. "Come on! Follow the webs!"

  The group surged forward. Blue dissolved his puppet, finding nothing in the other tunnel, and refocused his attention on the path ahead.

  The tunnels twisted and turned, a maze of ancient infrastructure. Whenever the path split, they used the Trio's puppets to scout. If a path was clear, they ignored it. If it had webs, they followed it.

  Deeper and deeper they went, until the air grew stale and heavy.

  Finally, they turned a corner and stopped dead.

  "Holy—" Neiva started.

  "—Shit," Red finished, hopping off Angelo's back. He opened his physical eyes to stare.

  It was the mother of all spiderwebs. A wall of glistening, translucent strands completely blocked the tunnel, so thick they couldn't see the earth behind it. It pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light.

  Neiva sighed, shifting her aura to blue. A massive scythe materialized in her hands. "Guess we gotta carve our way in." She coiled her muscles, ready to strike.

  "Stop!"

  The shout came from two voices at once—Angelo and Red.

  Neiva tripped, nearly face-planting. She scrambled up, glaring. "What is the big idea?!"

  "Those aren't just webs," Angelo said, his voice low. He was looking at the blockade with his energy vision.

  Blue materialized, adjusting his collar. "Indeed. They are saturated with volatile energy."

  "Meaning," Red grinned maniacally, "they go BOOM if you poke 'em with a stick."

  Sol smirked, cracking his knuckles. He stepped past Neiva. "Then this is a job I was made for."

  The group instinctively took a few steps back.

  Darkness pooled in Sol's palms, swirling like liquid silver ink. He reached out and gently touched the center of the web wall.

  The darkness spread instantly, infecting the pristine white strands. The webs began to glow blindingly bright as the energy within them destabilized, reacting violently to Sol's decay.

  They shielded their eyes as the tunnel filled with white light. There was a sound like a thousand glass panes shattering at once, followed by a hiss of dissipating energy.

  When the light faded, the webs were gone. Disintegrated into nothingness.

  With the trap removed, the path was clear. They stepped through the lingering haze and into a cavernous antechamber.

  And there, embedded in the rock, was a massive, reinforced metal door.

  Sol's smile turned feral. "This is it, fellas. We found it."

  He placed his hand on the metal. The thick steel groaned, then turned to dust, slumping away like a mountain of ash caught in a sudden breeze.

  They peered inside.

  A collective gasp echoed in the silence.

  Before them lay the dark, abandoned remains of a high-tech laboratory—a metal tomb buried beneath the grave of SolThanor.