As the hours slipped toward evening, Daylan and the others set off to search for the phantoms' hideouts. Daylan took the western shore, focusing on the areas around the monastery. Medora headed east, her eyes set on a few mysterious spots and the building she had noticed earlier. Astara moved toward the southern side, determined and silent.
Daylan strolled through the western alleys, hands tucked into his coat as he calmly surveyed his surroundings, occasionally stopping to ask passersby about any rumors they'd heard.
He was growing bored of their vague responses and the way they seized every opportunity to tell unrelated stories, but he pushed forward regardless.
During his inquiries, Daylan was directed to a well-known local tavern. According to the locals, the tavern keeper had once been abducted by a cult and somehow managed to escape. Though Daylan wasn't a drinker, he knew he had to visit the place, order a few drinks, and strike up a conversation with the keeper.
Without a moment's hesitation, Daylan made his way to the tavern. The place was crowded with adventurers and drunkards, their laughter and slurred voices filling the smoky air.
As he stepped inside, several heads turned, casting him confused or wary glances. His attire was far too refined for a place like this—too clean, too composed. To them, he looked like a high-class noble, or worse, someone sent by the Church to collect debts.
He walked with quiet confidence, ignoring their stares as he made his way to the counter and took a seat. But as he settled in, his head snapped around, confused by the lingering gazes—why were they still watching him?
As his thoughts drifted, the tavern keeper approached, wiping his hands on a rag before leaning slightly over the counter.
"What can I get you, mister?" he asked, his tone neutral but curious.
He turned to the keeper. "Uhm… anything you think it's best. I don't want something too strong though."
The keeper gladly served him an ale, sliding the mug across the counter with a nod. Daylan glanced at the frothy cushion resting on top and swallowed nervously. His hand trembled slightly as he picked it up and took a cautious sip.
"Ah. It's not that bad."
He smiled and placed it down.
"That will be five silvers, please."
Daylan nodded and casually slid him ten silver coins. The keeper stared at him in confusion. Before he could utter a word, Daylan spoke up.
"Can I speak with you for a moment?" He locked eyes with the keeper.
Without a word, the keeper began wiping the countertop, acting as if he hadn't heard a thing Daylan had said. But Daylan knew exactly what the man was waiting for. Without hesitation, he slid over a small pouch containing two thousand silver coins.
The keeper gave the pouch a brief glance, then looked up at Daylan with a smirk. With a subtle nod, he gestured for Daylan to follow him.
Without a moment to spare, Daylan followed. The keeper led him through a narrow door at the back of the tavern, into an alley behind the building.
He lit his cigar. "I suppose you need classified information. We can talk here without any interruptions."
Daylan looked around, spotting rats and cockroaches skittering about. He turned to the keeper and cleared his throat.
His expression darkened, voice steady and cold. ''I want every detail you have on the Phantoms—most importantly, their hideouts.''
The keeper blew out a puff of smoke and fixed his eyes on Daylan. "That's a tall order, boy. I don't know a damn thing about the Phantoms."
Fractal Echo
*Sorry, Kid. I'm not ready to die yet.* The keeper thought.
Daylan understood one thing clearly—no matter how afraid the keeper was of dying, his greed would almost always win.
"I don't think they will know if you don't tell them." He tossed him another pouch of coins.
The keeper's fear and ideals shattered the moment his eyes caught sight of another pouch. He glanced around, scanning for eyes.
"This might be a pain, but hey—nothing beats money, right? Just make sure my name doesn't reach the church…" He sighed, glancing away.
"I don't know if they go by the name Phantoms, but I was once taken in by a group. They wanted to use me in some kind of ritual… said my luck ability, Silent Steps, made me perfect for it, but I escaped using that same ability."
Daylan's expression stayed calm. What the keeper described didn't quite match what he imagined the Phantoms would do—but he knew too little about them to say for sure.
"Where is their hideout?"
"Not far. Head toward where the statue of the Goddess Fate stands. On the left road leading to it, take the second alley on your right. You'll find a crumbling brick building—go inside, and you'll see a path to an underground tunnel. They live somewhere within that tunnel."
Daylan began to sweat for some reason.
He continued. "Or… if you'd rather not use that tunnel, there's another one outside the city. Instead of turning into the alley, keep walking through the gate. There's a metal gate near the seashore—but that route is only used at night."
Fractal Echo
*This is okay… he will be captured anyway. I won't be in much trouble.*
Daylan smirked. The keeper's directions were far too detailed for someone claiming to have been kidnapped. He already had his doubts—but after listening in on the man's thoughts, he was certain: this man couldn't be trusted.
Daylan tapped him on the shoulder. "Thank you, Mister. I really appreciate it."
"Oh, don't make it a big deal. After all this money, it's only fair I give you my best." He grinned.
Daylan bade the keeper farewell and stepped out of the tavern into the street. Though the coins Astara gave him were meant for their mission, he had no intention of giving them to anyone. After hearing the tavern keeper's true intentions, he was more certain than ever.
He had already marked the pouches with his orb, and when he touched the man, he stained him as well. Once he put enough distance between himself and the tavern, he teleported both the man and the pouches to his dimension with a mere thought.
But something felt off. He was only a few steps away from the alley the keeper had mentioned when suddenly, his knees buckled. Exhaustion hit him like a crushing weight as if he'd been carrying a mountain.
Before he could process it, he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
He couldn't move, couldn't even think. The orb on his chest seemed to drain every ounce of his energy, feeding on both his life force and the dark energy within him.
Medora and Astara had no idea how much overusing the teleportation would affect Daylan. Though Astara had only used it once during her mission, Medora had used it six times—mostly to avoid walking to certain places. Now, the orb had reached its limit, leaving it with no choice but to drain Daylan to survive.
Daylan had no idea his current state was the result of overusing the orb.
He lay on the ground, oblivious to the passing bystanders who glanced at him with confusion and concern. All he could hear was the slow, erratic beat of his heart as his vision blurred. He forced his eyes open slightly and saw Enzo and a few guards approaching, but he dismissed it as nothing more than an illusion.
Before he could fully register what was happening, he felt himself floating. He tried to open his eyes again, but unconsciousness took him.
Night soon overtook the day. Astara and Medora attempted to teleport home, but no matter how many times they tried, the magic failed. Growing anxious, they abandoned the effort and hurried home.
They waited for hours, but there was still no sign of Daylan. The teleportation still wasn't working, and they couldn't even summon their masks.
Worry gnawed at them as theories formed—maybe Daylan had been killed by powerful Phantoms he had underestimated. But there was no way to know for sure. In the end, they decided to head to the western side the next day to search for him.
Neither of them got any sleep that night. They had no idea it was the overuse of the orb causing everything. All they knew was the gnawing fear that Daylan might be dead—and that fear kept sleep far from them.
Medora sat curled up on the sofa, facing the door, hugging her knees as she trembled in silence. Astara, on the other hand, tried to bury herself in books in the library, hoping to distract her mind—but every so often, she found herself wandering out to check the door, hoping he had returned.
Night gave way to day, yet there was still no sign of Daylan. As soon as the first light of dawn broke the sky, they rushed into their suits and headed out into the streets.