Chapter 52: Zack’s Decision

While Makun sat in a cell of the Bureau, Zack York, the guy he met at the Night Market, the very first person he had an altercation with in the mystic world, the guy who had marked him and wanted to hurt him through a mirror, was walking downtown.

Zack moved through the crowd with his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, head down, shoulders tight. The afternoon light cut through the gaps between buildings, throwing long shadows across the pavement.

Around him the city moved like it always did. Vendors called out prices from their stalls, hawking fried hot dog and roasted beef. A woman in a yellow headwrap haggled with a fruit seller over the price of mangoes. While some others listened a band playing music in the street.

Two men in construction vests laughed as they passed, one slapping the other on the back. A scooter rumbled past, belching black smoke, and a group of schoolkids darted across the street, their bags bouncing on their backs.

Zack ignored all of it.

He turned down a side street, quieter now, and pulled out his phone. The screen lit up. He tapped twice, then held it to his ear.

“It’s me.” Zack said.

A voice on the other end, nervous and trembling. “You leaving?”

“Yes, I’m moving. Headed to the station now.”

“Is it worth it? Zack you told me it could be dangerous.” The feminine voice spoke, a tinge of worry in it.

” Hah…” Zack exhaled. ” don’t worry Lucie. Nothing bad will happen” he reassured her

“Take care of yourself Zack, please, promise me.”

Silent hung as Lucie waited for his reply.

“I promise.” he said.

She struggled to hang up the phone, she was worried, worried for his safety, his return, his well being. However, Zack was stubborn.

He told her everything, and she was scared especially about the darkness. But she could not convince this blockhead.

Especially as he was doing it for her. He went down this path for her, and her wellbeing. She could only hope for the best.

The line went dead.

Zack pocketed the phone and kept walking. Three blocks later he reached the train station. The platform was crowded, people pressed together waiting for the next train. A mother held her child’s hand making sure he was not pushed to the edge of the platform, an old man leaned on a cane, staring at nothing.

Zack found a spot near the edge and waited.

The train pulled in with a screech of metal on metal. Doors slid open. People pushed forward. Zack stepped on, found a seat near the back, and sat down.

The train jerked forward and began to move.

Zack stared out the window, but he was not seeing the city.

After that day, Zack had been swallowed by darkness. He was scared, Scared to look into Makun more, scared of what was backing him, scared of how things might finish.

But he had lost too much.

For that book at the market, he had lost three years of his vital energy.

How was vital energy important? Vital energy was important for access to the Deep. The lower it was, the more difficult it was for a practitioner to access the Deep.

And he had lost that.

Then came that day. The day he named Darkness. A day he would never forget.

Because of that incident, he had lost a lot more. He could not even tell what level he was at anymore.

During that time, he entered Night Markets hosted by different organizations. But he saw nothing that could help him.

He was not sure, but he felt like the answers were in the book.

He was going to find Makun and get the book.

···

Back in the city center of Naija City, there was an inconspicuous building.

It was six stories tall, plain concrete, with narrow windows and a faded gray exterior that blended into the row of offices beside it

People walked past it every day without looking twice. The building was known by the citizens of Naija city as the haunted building.

Inside the building, on the fourth floor, in an office with no nameplate on the door, a man with an eye patch sat behind a desk.

Standing opposite him were a team of three, giving him a report.

The team was Celine, Mark, and Ryan.

Mark stood in the center, arms crossed, bandages wrapped tight around his ribs and left forearm. His face was bruised, a dark purple spreading across his jaw. Celine had taken care of his wounds with her abilities, then stitched the deeper cuts, applied salves to the burns, but he still looked like he had been through a fight.

Because he had.

“We contained the threat at 5:47 AM,” Mark said. His voice was steady, controlled, but there was an edge to it. “Subject was a first-grade Initiate, Warrior Route, Berserk Warrior sub-route. Possessed by outer-layer entities. High aggression, high mobility and he fought like something twice his grade.”

The man with the eye patch said nothing. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, watching.

Mark continued. “We engaged at close range. Subject demonstrated advanced reflexes, predictive movement, and resistance to spiritual binding. Ryan’s Binding Technique held, but barely. Subject required multiple blessed rounds to subdue.”

Ryan shifted slightly, this is not exactly what transpired.

But he said nothing.

Celine stood with her hands clasped in front of her, silent, observing without saying anything.

Mark’s jaw tightened, as unpleasant memories filled his head. “He moved faster than expected. Hit harder than expected. Took damage that should have dropped him and kept fighting. I’ve seen second-grade Apprentices fold under less.”

That was not entirely true.

Mark had been overpowered. A first-grade Initiate, fresh from his first ignition, had forced him into a defensive position. That stung. That burned worse than the broken ribs. So he leaned into the threat assessment, made it sound like Makun was something more, something dangerous, something that justified why Mark had struggled.

“Subject’s Route Core formed during the conflict, welk… from what we could tell.” Mark added. “It seemed to be a full formation, No collapse. That alone is irregular.”

The man with the eye patch tilted his head slightly. “Irregular how?”

“Most Initiates take days, sometimes weeks, for the Core to stabilize after first ignition. His stabilized mid-combat. Under possession, while hosting outer-layer entities.”

Celine spoke for the first time, her voice calm. “I examined him after containment and the Core was intact. No fractures and mo leakage. that should not be possible.”

Mark nodded. “Exactly. And that’s not all.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping.

“A normal person who just underwent initiation should not be able to host that many entities from the outermost layer of the Deep into his body. Not without his soul tearing apart, his body collapsing or without the Core collapsing.”

The man with the eye patch said nothing.

Mark pressed on. “I suspect the subject has external backing, I suppose he had advanced preparation. Possibly a ritual anchor we did not detect. Possibly something worse.”

He paused.

“I suspect he is from the Hollow Court.”

The temperature in the room dropped.

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