17 Highfield Street.
Abel sat at the table in his main room, his expression conflicted.
In front of him lay the paper file containing the information about his target—The Marrown.
But what irked him was the fact that the thugs who were responsible for the death of the previous Abel were also part of this gang.
This ant that the Trust had done proper due diligence on him. It was sothing which he had expected, of course.
But seeing how thoroughly they had investigated him, he couldn’t help but wonder, Do they also know the reason why those thugs gave a beating?
The light from the oil lamp cast a soft glow on his face, illuminating the frown that had covered it.
The Commander likely knows about my, or rather, the previous Abel’s affair with Jenny...
I’m sure these guys must have used so supernatural ans to find out information relating to everything that eventually led to my awakening.
But why did he offer this specific mission?
Could it be that he’s offering this chance to get so payback for what those guys did to ?
He loosened the cravat around his neck and tossed it on the table. Then he rose to his feet and started pacing around the room.
"Fuckin’ hell, so embarrassing," he muttered under his breath.
Not for a mont did he think that an organization such as the Ministry would be oblivious about his affair with Joana Dawson.
He knew they would have uncovered his entire life history. But that still left a bad taste in his mouth.
The youth grasped the oil lamp by the handle and walked to his bedroom. Then, without hesitation, he dove inside the wall-mounted mirror.
Night had already fallen, thus his bedroom inside the mirror world was dark. But when he arrived, the light from the lamp illuminated the room.
He walked to his bed and lay down, gazing at the ceiling.
"There’s sothing different about this place, for sure," he murmured. "I feel... at ho."
His gaze was then drawn to the bedroom door, his eyes flickering with curiosity and caution.
Ever since the day he visited the dark tunnel beyond the door, he had never once stepped foot inside. Last ti, he got lucky and managed to find his way out.
But would he be lucky a second ti? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to find out.
It’s best to curb my recklessness until I can find more about that damn coin, he mused to himself.
He shifted his focus back to the matter at hand—the initiation mission.
Usually, prospective Occultists would undergo the initiation mission and aim to succeed in order to be accepted into the Ministry.
However, he was already an official Occultist of the Ministry.
Technically, I don’t really have to go through with this mission, he thought to himself, his eyes flashing with complicated emotions.
But one day or the other, in this line of work, I have to pull the trigger. There will co a ti when I will be given no choice but to take a life...
Can I really take a human life? Can I... really do it?
Life was precious. Abel understood the importance of life, perhaps more than anyone else.
After all, he had died in his previous life and was then miraculously given a second chance. When he learned that he was alive again, he truly understood the value of life and was, of course, imnsely grateful for it.
That is why he hesitated so deeply when it ca to taking one.
Commander has given until the end of this week to complete the mission, he thought to himself, his expression turning solemn.
I shall do my best to restrain all the gang mbers, but if I’m pushed into a corner...
He slowly closed his eyes and softly muttered, "I don’t know..."
...
At the sa ti Abel was grappling with a decision that would test his ttle as an Occultist, another had at last resolved to beco one.
In Flat 3B, the man from Ruskovia, Sergei Petrov, gazed at the ritual geotrical patterns on the wooden floor before him with a crazed look on his face.
His appearance, as usual, was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled, and his eyes bloodshot.
For the past few weeks, he had been studying day and night in order to grasp the mysteries of one of the three pillars of the occult - ritual arts!
Finally, he believed his hard work had paid off, and he was able to grasp the fundantals of conducting a ritual art that would allow him to awaken his spirit energy.
As he gazed at the several geotrical patterns on the floor before him, his lips curled into a wide grin.
"Once I awaken my spirit energy and enter the mystical dinsion known as the Spirit Crucible..." he muttered under his breath.
He was unable to rein in his excitent and he raised his hands in the air and excitedly said, "My life will change! It will change for the best!"
Beside him lay several diaries and one of them had a very ominous appearance.
Its cover was bound in dark leather, but if one looked closely, one would find that the cover was actually made of skin!
Whether the skin belonged to a human or an anomalous creature was a mystery.
Its pages were yellowed, fragile, and weathered by ti. The words on the pages were written in faded ink, blood, and other strange substances.
The handwritten script was written in at least three languages, and one of them was...
Enochian!
The reason why Sergei was able to even learn about the occult and the ritual art to awaken his spirit energy was solely because of this book.
Given that the thod to awaken one’s spirit energy consisted of a highly advanced ritual art and sothing that the Ministry closely safeguarded, one could see just how valuable the dark leather book truly was!
Before he fled from Ruskovia, Sergei had committed the murder of an old woman suspected to be an Occultist.
All he wanted was so money, but instead, he found this book in the woman’s possession.
Realizing the imnse value of this book, he fled the country and arrived at the Empire, hoping for a fresh start to a brighter future.
Now, he had finally taken the first major step towards securing a bright future for himself.
Sergei soon cald himself down. His gaze was then involuntarily drawn towards the open dark-leathered book.
The man’s blue eyes flashed with horror and he hurriedly closed the book.
Although this book of mysterious origins provided him with valuable occult knowledge, it carried a dreadful price. For every ti he read from its pages...
He edged closer to madness!
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