Zee returned shortly after Jaeger had left. With keen eyes and his characteristic obsessive attention to detail, he immediately noticed several display cases had been moved or were missing entirely—not simply opened and emptied, but completely gone. A peculiar smell lingered in the air, leading his gaze toward the furnace. Touching its metallic surface confirmed it was warmer than when he had last left it.

Inside, the charred remains of several display cases were scattered about.

Zee sighed, chuckled softly to himself, and then sighed again.

The three he had just escorted—Malcolm, a longtime friend and tinkerer rather than a true craftsman like Zee, along with his companions Solomon and Jack—had exchanged several magical items with him for supplies and resources. Jack, in particular, had traded almost all his winnings from recent years for rare potions that even Zee found challenging to acquire. Malcolm, on numerous occasions, had worked closely with Zee as a personal fence within the city.

He quickly ruled out these three as culprits, as he had been with them the entire time. Besides, if they had asked, Zee would have happily given the items freely. The stolen objects were commissioned by a strange collector who had recently vanished, rendering them essentially useless. Whoever took them must have been someone else.

A jumble of coins had been left behind, seemingly thrown in as a hesitant afterthought. Unknown to Zee, this amount was half of what Jaeger had on hand—a hurried gesture of guilt or gratitude before slipping away downtown through the sewers.

Zee wished whoever took the items had simply stayed and spoken with him. He would have gladly crafted more or even accepted new commissions. Zee loved to create, especially magical items, each one carefully placed in a personally designed display case before being set aside. Often, he crafted items merely to add to his collection. He didn't particularly care if they were destroyed afterward—what he truly cherished was the process of creation itself.

Yet, a simple courtesy would have been appreciated. Who had entered his workshop? And why take firearms specifically, ignoring the numerous magical weapons available? What an unusual choice. Zee couldn't know that Jaeger wasn't a typical collector, preferring items both exotic and practical.

Could the original collector or someone affiliated with him have returned to retrieve the items? Solomon had mentioned that everyone except the fighters in the gladiatorial rings had disappeared, a fact Malcolm and Jack had confirmed. Perhaps someone connected to the collector was still alive, someone who knew the password and the location.

Zee had always believed his workshop was a closely guarded secret.

He thought.

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Solomon and his two companions exited through the opening leading back to the waterway, climbing up toward the bridge and into the open streets.

“What now?” Jack asked, glancing uncertainly in both directions along the street.

“I need to find Ana,” Solomon replied, determination hardening his voice. “If our suspicions are correct, no one emerged from that area, which means she must be in the fog. I’m going in after her.”

Jack and Malcolm exchanged somber glances, seeing clearly the resolve and heartache that Solomon carried within.

“I promised her we’d leave that underground nightmare together,” Solomon continued firmly. “Freedom means nothing to me without her. If she was caught by the fog while healing someone during a fight, then that's exactly where I'll go.”

Jack nodded solemnly, understanding Solomon’s sentiments deeply. He had spent nearly half his life in the arena—there was nothing left for him in the world he'd once known. Returning would only reopen old wounds he had fought to heal.

Malcolm, ever loyal to his friends and drawn by the allure of opportunity, nodded his assent as well. He wouldn’t abandon Solomon now.

Resolutely, Solomon led them toward the city's deeper regions to gather more information about the mysterious fog. While they’d already gleaned much from rumors and whispers, they needed certainty. To defeat their enemy, they must first know it intimately.

Malcolm smiled faintly, recalling through hearsay someone particularly skilled in trading information and secrets. Soon, the fog would know the name Solomon—and it would tremble.

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I explored the sewers extensively, finding no clear traces of other people roaming the labyrinth below. Occasionally, I encountered strange groups cloaked in mist and mystery, and others hauling casks of bodies or cargo along the murky waters—but such activity was somewhat expected. Those sections were known for their clandestine operations, especially beneath the bustling central districts.

The sewers under the central district differed greatly from the narrow tunnels at the city’s periphery. Here, they were vast and cavernous, sometimes stretching hundreds of feet in width and height, large enough even for ships to navigate.

The city that had once existed here, still existed, was covered over countless generations ago for some reason. No book, no library, no person, knew why.

Preparing to leave the sewers, I approached the nearest ladder and placed a cautious step onto its moss-covered rung. A distant glint caught my eye, a tiny firefly flicker within the darkness.

‘Who knows? Could be something interesting—wouldn’t surprise me at this point.’

Curiosity took hold, and I trotted toward the source of the faint glow, deeper into the shadows. I was certain I had seen that flicker—likely from a torch or similar device.

Corridors and corners flashed by, the rails to my left collapsed into the water, rusted and neglected for decades. The water itself was impenetrably murky, concealing whatever lay beneath. Some ancient, primal instinct advised caution, warning me not to stray too close to its edge. Intermittent drips punctuated the constant rushing of water, creating a rhythmic tension.

It grew increasingly difficult to focus on my footsteps beneath the dim red glow of the rogue lantern I held, illuminating my path just enough to keep me from misstepping into oblivion.

What twisted entities might dwell down here, hidden in the earth's dark recesses—places untouched by ordinary people, cultists, or even the maddest scientists? Stories abounded about mysterious creatures that lured unsuspecting victims into watery graves, and legends spoke of ancient underground cities buried and forgotten beneath modern streets.

Rumor had it the city was once a vast network of waterways, with these large subterranean channels serving as transportation routes. Countless rooms and chambers supposedly existed down here, remnants of an ancient city sealed away by stone and magic. Entrances had long been hidden, maps crafted and exchanged endlessly among secretive hands.

These maps, allegedly cursed, led curious souls who dared follow them into the abyss—never to be seen again. The maps would inevitably reappear, conveniently placed for others to discover and become ensnared once more.

A sudden, unsettling screech jolted me from my thoughts, echoing harshly off the walls. My heart skipped as I spun around, gun drawn, meeting a series of glowing red eyes that bobbed and swayed in the darkness.

Rats.

Just rats.

I relaxed slightly, stepping forward. Strangely, the rats didn't scatter but stared back at me intently, unmoving.

‘Odd…they must be used to human visitors. Sorry, little ones, I don't have much…wait, perhaps I do.’

Reaching into a small pack beneath my jacket, I retrieved half a piece of bread and some dried meat from my recent visit to the shop where I regularly bought smokes. Tossing the scraps toward them, the previously frozen rats surged into a frenzy.

‘Holy shit!’

I stumbled back, lantern raised, as the rats viciously tore into one another, their glowing red eyes flickering chaotically. Gradually, the eyes vanished one by one, until only a single pair remained, staring steadily back at me from the shadows. I knew instinctively that if I stepped forward now, I would find a grim pile of rat corpses littering the ground.

The solitary set of eyes moved forward slightly, pausing close by. In the eerie silence, I heard the unmistakable sound of chewing.

What the hell was going on in these sewers?

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I quickened my pace, straining my ears to catch the sound of distant footsteps echoing softly through the sewer passages. The faint trails of water had made the tracks harder to follow, the splashes and sprays obscuring what little evidence remained.

Taking deeper breaths, I steadied my heartbeat, focusing on intercepting whoever was ahead. Cutting swiftly through a side passage, I reached out suddenly from the darkness and seized a slender arm, pressing my gun forward cautiously.

“Who are you? Let go!” came a sharp, startled cry. A young woman swung at me frantically with a dwindling torch. Reflexively, I deflected her arm, holding her firmly but not painfully.

“Calm down—I’m not here to hurt you,” I assured her urgently, keeping my voice low and steady. “I’m an investigator. I only want to ask some questions. I’m looking for a friend who vanished down here.”

Her breathing slowed slightly, her grip on the torch loosening as I released her arm. She stepped back but did not flee.

“Who are you searching for?” she asked, uncertainty clear in her voice.

“A friend of a friend. He vanished recently; I don’t even know if he's alive. But I need to find him.” My response was truthful, if vague.

She studied me in the dim glow of the torch, still guarded. After a moment's hesitation, she replied, "My name is Ana. I'm looking for someone too—my boyfriend. I escaped from..." she paused briefly, choosing her words carefully, "a dangerous place. Some men saw me leave, and now I’m lost."

Something in her words clicked. Could she be connected to those three men I'd followed earlier? It seemed unlikely, yet I pressed carefully, "What does your boyfriend look like?"

"Short hair, about eighteen to twenty. Handsome, kind eyes. He had a friend named Jack, a big, grizzly guy in his forties," she said quickly, her voice trembling with hope.

My heart jumped slightly in surprise. “Actually, this is going to sound strange, but I saw them,” I admitted carefully. I sounded like a cliché kidnapper.

Her eyes widened instantly, hope flaring vividly. "You saw them? Where?"

“They surfaced not long ago and headed into the city,” I explained calmly. Seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, I softened my tone. “Look, the sewers aren't safe. If you want, you can stay somewhere safe. My girlfriend's place isn't far from here—her family owns a café. You’d be safe there.”

She seemed hesitant, conflicted even, but finally nodded with cautious relief. I climbed the nearest ladder first, emerging into the cool drizzle above. Moments later, Ana surfaced beside me, blinking at the rain, savoring the fresh air.

She looked exhausted, her clothes worn and dirty from her ordeal. Realizing her trust might have come from desperation, I gestured toward a small shop nearby, purchasing a jacket to shield her from the rain.

"Come on," I said gently. "Stay close if you like—or at a distance, if it feels safer. But you shouldn’t trust strangers too quickly in a city like this."

She met my gaze briefly, a quiet gratitude flickering in her eyes, then followed as I stepped into the rainy streets, my collar raised against the chill.

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“Hey…” Alexandra’s dad looked past my shoulder, noticing a girl shaking off rainwater into the drain near the door. He raised an eyebrow at me, catching my subtle frown.

“She escaped the arena. Strange shit is going on,” I explained quietly. “Can you give her a space to stay for a while? I'll cover it. She might be tied to a current job and some other things I'm figuring out.”

He shrugged lightly but nodded. “Sure, kiddo, why not. Alex is upstairs, by the way—already making herself at home in that new room you rented out… haa… aww… finally, a son-in-law!”

I laughed softly at his teasing, but Ana overheard the conversation and visibly relaxed. To her, I was still just a kindhearted stranger, and in truth, that wasn't far from reality. Alexandra’s dad's easy banter served as a reassuring hint that I was trustworthy, and I hadn't lied about offering her a safe place with my girlfriend.

I guided Ana up the back staircase, ascending several floors to my new apartment. I'd recently begun renting it from Alexandra’s father—for reasons ranging from dating his daughter to the generous deal he’d offered. Though the apartment was a floor or two lower than my previous one, it meant Alexandra no longer had to shuttle between our separate places. The interior even mirrored my old apartment's style, so I quickly felt at home.

Alexandra greeted Ana warmly with a hug, and within five minutes, they were chatting and laughing comfortably together.

The wooden floors didn’t creak the same, the cupboards didn’t groan in their familiar way, and the window lacked that persistent leak I’d grown oddly fond of, but I didn’t mind. The place felt good nonetheless.

Smiling softly, I watched them for a moment, hopeful that I'd helped Alex gain a new friend—which, admittedly, might earn me some free time. A definite win in my book.

But my good mood faltered slightly when I glanced absentmindedly out the window while lighting a smoke. On the street below, staring straight up at me, stood a man whose footsteps I'd secretly followed through the city and whose girlfriend I'd just whisked away from the city’s grim underbelly.

A stranger of a man—one I would soon come to know as Solomon.

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I nodded down to the street below, uncertain how Solomon had managed to track me here, though in this city, knowing the right people could make finding someone easy. Information was currency, and I'd certainly been visible enough coming in and out of this café for years.

Walking leisurely downstairs, I considered carefully what I might say—or what needed saying at all. The last few steps took me into the café, where Solomon stood waiting along with two other men. Alexandra’s dad acted as oblivious as always, polishing a glass as if their presence meant nothing unusual. Moments ago, I had been listening to Alexandra and Ana laughing upstairs; now I was stepping into a room thick with tension. I almost laughed at the irony.

With a casual wave, I gestured them to follow me to the back room I usually used for private conversations. Solomon led the trio, his armor faintly clinking beneath his clothes. Malcolm and Jack followed quietly, their concealed weapons and rough attire hinting at their experience and caution.

Inside the room, I opened a window, sitting back into my favorite chair as fresh air filtered in. Propping my feet up onto the table, I gestured again for them to take seats, but they chose to stand, wary and stiff. Shrugging, I lit up a Vannilgirette, flicked the lighter closed, and tossed it onto the table alongside my pack of smokes.

Solomon finally spoke, breaking the silence. “You should know why I'm here. Malcolm mentioned you're the best investigator around here, and that you don’t have loyalties that might conflict with helping us.”

That was true enough—most people came to me specifically because I wasn't affiliated with any major organization. I simply nodded and let him continue.

“I didn’t expect it’d be so easy to find you, but people around here seemed to know exactly who I was talking about,” Solomon added, a faint hint of suspicion still in his voice.

I exhaled slowly, letting smoke drift upward. “Let’s make this simple—trade information. You tell me something, I’ll tell you something. Deal?”

Solomon exchanged glances with Jack and Malcolm, who nodded in agreement.

“We’re looking for a girl named Ana,” Solomon began. "She has brunette hair, shorter than me, kind eyes, and has healing abilities connected to light. She’s my girlfriend.”

His description matched Ana perfectly—unsurprising but reassuring. I leaned back slightly, allowing a small smile to show, feeling the weight of expectation in their eyes.

“Before I answer, tell me about the fog,” I said, tone calm and even.

They hesitated briefly but began recounting their experience—how people had vanished within the arena, how the fog took people indiscriminately, and how they'd managed their narrow escape.

Listening closely, I finally nodded, deciding to share some of what I'd learned. “There have been similar disappearances throughout the city. Soldiers and mercenaries have started pulling back to their guilds and strongholds. Something bigger is happening, and the fog seems to be central to it.”

Solomon’s patience ran thin. “Where’s Ana?” he interrupted, tension thickening in his voice.

I paused dramatically, watching his eyes sharpen with anxiety. “She’s safe. I found her in the sewers—some unsavory folks were chasing her, likely escapees from your arena. I got her out and brought her here. She’s upstairs now, sixth floor, room five, staying with my girlfriend Alexandra. You’re welcome to stay here, too. The café owner is Alexandra’s dad—just tell him to bill me.”

Solomon’s reaction was instantaneous. His chair flew back as he bolted from the room without another word, nearly toppling Alexandra's dad as he rushed past, heading straight for the stairs.

I glanced after him, then turned back toward Jack and Malcolm with an amused expression. “Think he'll come back?”

Jack laughed deeply, leaning back and enjoying his own smoke. “Probably not tonight. They've waited years for this.” He paused, glancing curiously at his cigarette. “Vanilla?”

I nodded, smiling slightly. “Yeah. Clover’s too harsh for me. Vanilla reminds me of something...maybe my parents. I don't really remember, but it's familiar.”

Jack nodded knowingly, inhaling again. “A man named Jaeger should have drinks, don’t you think?” he said teasingly, eyes twinkling with humor.

“Funny, never heard that one before,” I chuckled, reaching behind a nearby box. “Check this out. Bourbon for clients—don’t drink myself, but help yourself.”

Jack grinned, pouring generously into glasses I'd set out. Malcolm’s eyes widened appreciatively at the rare alcohol.

“To new friendships,” Jack raised his glass.

I matched his toast with a smile. “And surviving whatever comes next."