When we reached the city gates, the sun was already dipping low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the uneven ground.
By this time, Alexia, Lily, and I had equipped and activated the Transformation Cards that Selene gave us.
Now, under normal circumstances, it was advised to keep all the activated Cards constantly hovering over our shoulder, head, or around the waist.
After all, in a combat situation, our bodies get hit regularly. It would be foolish to keep our Cards in the area where most attacks would be targeted.
Especially our Origin Cards.
Since they are the manifestation of one’s soul, everyone’s top priority is to always keep them safe and secure by making them a hard target to hit.
Even if your bones break or your muscles tear asunder, never let your Origin Card get damaged.
Protect your Origin Card with your life — that’s what every Awakened is taught from the moment they realize their innate power.
Another thing is, when most Cards are materialized, they’re repelled by their caster’s body like two magnets facing the same sides, making it impossible to keep them too close.
It’s impossible for a caster to even hold their Cards after activation.
However, there are some Cards that defy this rule and possess enchantments that make it possible to have them near their caster’s body.
These types of Cards are sometimes called Assassin’s Favors. Because, as anyone could guess, they are favored by killers and spies.
No one would ever see an attack coming if your activated Card is hidden in your pocket, and that is exactly why these types of Cards are banned for the general public.
But we weren’t the general public and we weren’t doing anything illegal. We were on a crucial mission.
And most importantly, we got our Cards from a licensed professional.
So, we didn’t commit any crime by using the Cards that were given to us and putting them in our pockets.
The transformation affected us immediately. It wasn’t anything bizarre or drastic — only minor cosmetic changes.
Alexia’s ginger hair turned blue and her eyes changed their colors to green.
Lily’s platinum-blond hair took a darker shade and her face looked a little different.
My own hair and eyes — to my aching regret — changed to black. My skin was tanned and rough, and I could’ve been imagining this, but I also looked a bit shorter. It was a tragedy.
Anyway, there were a few kids playing around the city gates.
And behind them, a pair of guards stood watch. Their armor was mismatched and battered, and their eyes were hollow with fatigue.
“Halt,” one of the guards said while stepping forward. His voice was gruff, and his hand rested on the handgun in his hosteler, though he didn’t draw it. “State your business.”
Michael stepped up, handing over the Academy’s official writ.
The guard inspected it with a wary eye, his lips moving silently as he read.
“You’re the Cadets they sent?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism for some reason.
“We are,” Michael replied evenly.
There was a few seconds of soft silence before the guard grunted, waving us through. “Stay out of trouble. Lord Everan is expecting to meet you all soon.”
•••
The streets of Ishtara were as grim as the outskirts had promised.
Makeshift shacks leaned against crumbling buildings, their walls patched with sheets of rusted metal and tattered cloth.
The people who walked these streets wore rags and walked tiredly, looking every bit as exhausted as you would expect from people living in poor, war-torn, dangerous regions such as this.
Thankfully, there were children running barefoot through the alleys and the sound of their laughter was a striking contrast to the despair around them.
Vendors kept shouting half-heartedly from their stalls, trying to sell whatever meager wares they could scavenge or produce.
By the side of the mud roads, I often spotted some estranged people.
Their faces were hollowed, and their frames trembling like they’d been dying of cold. The weather wasn’t even that chilly.
They were so skinny that their skin clung to their bones like wet paper, pale and blotchy, and their lips were cracked and raw from chewing in restless desperation.
One man knelt in the dirt, his bony fingers clawing at his forearms as if he were trying to dig something out.
His nails were bloody, leaving streaks of crimson down his gaunt limbs.
Another lay sprawled in the middle of the street, muttering incoherent words as his body spasmed, limbs jerking unnaturally like a marionette with tangled strings.
I gave them all a few long analytical stares. And I instantly knew what was wrong with them.
Most of them were suffering from withdrawal or under the influence of some substance.
They were drug addicts.
Passersby gave them a wide berth, their faces pinched with disgust or fear.
A vendor slapped his stall loudly with a stick to ward off a particularly shaky addict who stumbled too close, muttering curses under his breath.
“Get lost before the guards see you,” barked a woman carrying a basket of wilted vegetables. Her voice was harsh, but her eyes betrayed a hint of pity before she turned away and walked off.
A child darted past, clutching a scrap of bread, only to be caught by the sleeve by a skeletal hand.
The addict’s lips quivered as he whispered, “Just a bite… please…”
The boy screamed, yanking free, and fled into the crowd.
The addict collapsed back into the dirt, eyes glazed and unfocused, and started licking the ground.
His companions, if you could call them that, remained indifferent, too consumed by their own needs to notice anything beyond their immediate suffering.
Some leaned against walls, rocking back and forth.
Others pulled on hair and waved their hands in the air like trying to grab onto something that didn’t exist.
Their sunken eyes flickered feverishly, haunted by visions they could never escape.
It was clear that these addicts were more than a blight on the city’s streets.
They were a reminder that this city was rotting to its core.
Naturally, most of my teammates, who had lived comparatively sheltered lives in the Safe-Zones, seemed a little shaken by the sight of it all.
Only Kang managed to keep his composure, though even he seemed more tense to me than I had ever seen him.
And Alexia. She was just as unfazed as ever because she couldn’t see a thing.
Though, she had her Inhuman Senses Card out and active.
So she was keenly aware of the uneasy atmosphere around us.
But something told me that even if she could see, it wouldn’t have troubled her too much.
After all, she’d run away from her home several times.
She’d lived on the streets.
And while the streets of the Western Safe-Zone were far cleaner than the filth and decay that plagued the streets here, she was no stranger to the struggles of the downtrodden.
She had known how desperate people could be.
She had smelled the stench of poverty in the air.
She understood how hard survival could be when the world seemed to offer nothing but contempt.
It was kind of funny.
Despite being the most experienced out of all of the main characters in the game, she was also the least worldly one.
She had never dated, never drank alcohol, and never even partied — or other normal things that most teenagers do.
I guess it was because she’d spent so much time either running or being locked away in her own home that she never had the chance to stop and appreciate the beauty life had to offer.
…Woah, I sounded old there.
“Wh-What’s wrong with… them?” Lily was the first one to ask that uncomfortable question.
She looked the most disturbed out of all of us. Her eyes were darting nervously to the figures slumped by the roadside.
Kang shrugged, trying to keep his tone casual and flat. “They’re resin eaters.”
“Resin eaters?” Michael frowned as if heading the term for the first time.
“It’s slang,” Alexia interjected calmly. “For people who use the residue left over during the creation of the Mindscape Drug. The residue itself has no real value, so it’s dirt cheap to get ahold of. But when you mix it with a truckload of table salt, it produces a mind-numbing, euphoric effect.”
Her explanation was clinical, almost detached, as though she were reciting a textbook rather than describing the pitiful scene around us.
But the weight of her words hung heavy in the air, and none of us had much to say after that.
Everyone else was silent because they weren’t in the mood. I was silent because I had too much on my mind.
I was mentally making a list of things I needed to do during the mission.
And it was a long list.
Not only did I need to manipulate my enemies, but my teammates as well.
Because in the game, Michael and his Squad cracked the mystery behind the inexplicable Spirit Beast attacks in Ishtara all by themselves.
And they did it in under two weeks.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I needed to keep their focus off the real issue.
I couldn’t let them even get a hint of the true problem, let alone solve it.
How was I going to do it?
By misdirecting their attention, planting false evidence if I needed to, and manipulating them by using every tactic in the book.
But that wasn’t all.
While I kept their eyes on the wrong target, I also had to handle the real problem all by myself — and do it in a way that would keep me out of the spotlight when it was all over.
It sounded like a challenge.
A real troubling challenge.
Fortunately, I liked challenges. Especially ones as impossible as this.
“You bitch! I’ll kill you!”
The harsh voice broke through my thoughts, shaking me back to reality. I looked around, trying to locate the source.
A few steps away, an officer in a khaki guard uniform had his hand tangled in the woman’s hair, yanking her down to the ground.
Immediately, he unsheathed his sword and pressed the tip against her neck.
