SECOND-CLASS SAINT

Full Circle (IV)

Cyril and Angelica synchronously caught their breath in a dimly lit back alley.

Whilst leaning against the wall, his purple irises strayed over to the mystical entrance that had begun to conceal itself once more. All at once, the bricks forming the frame of the building shuffled, moved and melded back into a neatly assorted pattern that saw each one of them filling a gap leading to Vulcanus' entrance. Before long, the entire thing was hidden from view behind a spell so airtight that not even light could escape through its gaps.

"Guess this location is no good anymore." the thought escaped him as a mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"Well…" He began, pushing himself away from the wall. "Ginny is an Etheric magician; and her powers are what make Vulcanus so special. If you don't know where the entrance is, there's no way to get in. Some people think its illusion magic, but the real secret is that her store is connected to multiple locations within Dunwich. They function like 'save points' she can freely access. This spot was one of her favourite save points, but I don't think it'll be up and running for the time being."

"Oh, that's impressive for a magician. Her Index must be close to the upper limits if she can pull something like that off."

"I'm not sure what her exact reading is but I'd have to agree, even amongst other top Etheric magicians, Ginny's talent in mana manipulation is nearly unmatched. That being said… she did just kick us out, so I doubt we'll be hearing from her again anytime soon. Shall we continue the tour, madam?"

With a pompous glance over his shoulder, Cyril smirked at the blushing girl who, despite having spent over a week in Babylon, was still practically a tourist. By the time he finished speaking, Cyril had already wandered near the mouth of the alleyway—the perfect spot for the sunlight to spill through the gaps between buildings, casting a radiant glow over him.

Funnily enough, the coincidental way he positioned himself against the scenery made her accept his suggestion without a second thought.

That had been the purpose of their tour, after all.

Moving gracefully, Angelica rested a hand on the pommel of her rapier and daintily replied, "Lead the way, Sir Severin."

>>>>>------<<<<<

Several minutes had passed since Cyril and Angelica made their less-than-spectacular exit from the arcane smithy. The lackadaisical shop owner sitting at the counter released a small puff of smoke from her lips, her mind drifting back to a few minutes before when she'd sent them away in a manner that was far from being called courteous.

The thin white wisp danced through the air whimsically until it eventually dissipated into nothing, much like her brief moment of reminiscence.

Ginny lowered her eyes to the purple vapors rising from an aged wooden stool a few feet away.

"Not exactly a sign of great customer service, is it? Good grief, now I'll have to clean that up." The vials contents had long since lost a great deal of its ferocity, and now it was reduced to nothing more than a collection of wafting purple vapors. The stool was still standing, which could only mean one thing—her claim about the vials lethality from earlier had been false.

In reality, it was a far cry from being anywhere as deadly as hydrochloric acid, the most it could do was stain objects purple and leave them with a slightly unpleasant odor for a few hours. She had gone out of her way to put on such a show earlier, an act that any normal person would have a hard time forgetting, but for some reason those two teenagers, and Angelica in particular didn't seem to mind it, and as for Cyril, he was more or less completely used to her antics by now.

She was never one for pleasantries, so "regret" hardly did her emotions justice. She would never say it out loud, but deep down, she was patiently awaiting their next visit. For some reason, her instincts as an artificer told her they would be back in due time.

The instincts that guided her hand over countless years of hard work had never once failed her, and that was the very reason why she'd sent them away with such a brusque tactic. Something was bound to go wrong if they'd ended up crossing paths with this next 'customer'.

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On cue, the mythic entrance opened up swiftly as it welcomed the dauntless approach of a cloaked visitor. The atmosphere seemed to drastically shift as the man stepped inside, a veil of jet-black in the form of a weathered cloak covered everything from his head to the collar of his boots.

Various magical machinations were at play inside smithy, particularly pulse stones that acted as a means of illumination, and yet, the only sliver of his visage they managed to illuminate was the thick framed, industrial-looking gas mask strapped over the man's face.

If not for his unquestionably masculine stature, the few clues about his identity would be maddeningly elusive.

"How odd." The man said, tearing his eyes away from the wisping vapors. "I always thought this place didn't have these kinds of incidents. Was it a troublesome customer?"

His voice was grating—hoarse and ghastly, as if his words were tangled and distorted, crackling with static before reaching the air.

"None of your business." Ginny replied simply, resting a hand to her jaw. "All information regarding my customers and their purchases are confidential, that's my store's policy. I'd think you, of all people would do well to understand that, scarecrow."

Chuckling softly, scarecrow casually approached the counter with an air of indifference. His eyes weren't visible, instead a deep turquoise glow took their place, steadily pulsing in the eye sockets of his industrial gas mask.

"Well, I suppose so. You're among the few odd ones in this city that allow people like me to do business freely. Isn't that why you've set your store up like this, to prevent friction amongst some of your more unscrupulous customers?"

"Enough already, just tell me what you need, I don't have the luxury of wasting time with you like this. It's not easy running this place by myself you know."

"Very well, I'll oblige." Scarecrow reached under his cloak and placed a fist-sized object on the table. Shining like starlight, the object was unquestionably....

"...A monster core?" Ginny said, her voice devoid of all enthusiasm. Given the rarity of the object before her, that reaction just now had certainly failed to meet the bar, however, if Vulcanus really was a place where 'certain individuals' could freely pawn off their items, perhaps she'd gotten used to such obscure methods of payment long ago.

Unlike Angelica, not everyone could simply just waltz in and swipe their premium debit card.

"Yeah, it's from a B-rank monster. Unfortunately, this is my only means of payment at the moment, I was hoping to trade it in for a Virstone—if you have any more that is."

Ginny's eyes scrolled up to meet the lifeless turquoise gaze staring her down. Undaunted, she spoke in a tame, but fearsome tone.

"Look, it's not my policy to pry into the affairs of customers, but you do know the risks that come with using these things inside the dungeons, right? You could very well get other people killed, which also entails having the hunter association on your tracks, and I would rather not have them establish a connection between you and this place."

"That's exactly why I need the Virstone, to make a clean escape." Scarecrow responded cooly. A cold, polymeric façade, its contours sculpted for function rather than expression. The voice that emerged from it was nigh mechanical—void of warmth or empathy, designed purely to convey information without even a whisper of feeling.

Nothing about the shadowy figure suggested that he was the least bit concerned about the consequences of his actions. "I appreciate your restraint, but if it's any consolation, this will be the last time."

"That so?" Ginny quipped snottily, she got up from her seated position and moved around to the back, and after a few minutes, she returned with a pristinely carved marble-sized object in her hand.

"Here" she called out and tossed the glowing stone towards him without warning. It landed softly inside scarecrow's open palm before being briskly tucked away beneath his abyssal cloak.

"Always a pleasure Ginny. I'll be taking my leave now."

With that, the figure which could be easily mistaken for a specter spun on his heels, intending to vanish from sight just as quickly as he came, but moments before his exit, the shopkeeper's lackadaisical voice reached out to him, and the cloaked figure froze on the spot.

"Coincidentally, that just so happens to be the last one I had. They're rather hard to come by, so I suggest you use it wisely."

With terse movements, scarecrow's neck slowly swiveled over his shoulder until the beige-haired artificer was centered in his sights.

Seconds ticked by, but neither broke eye contact.

"...I'll keep that in mind."

It was faint, but Ginny heard an audible 'tsk' come from scarecrow as he tossed the words behind him and disappeared beyond the bounds of Vulcanus' domain. Ginny watched as the entrance meticulously reassembled itself through magical means. It wasn't their first interaction, so nothing about it seemed particularly strange, yet this time, for some reason, she couldn't help but sigh as she inhaled a puff thicker than usual from her ash pipe.

"What a troublesome customer, its about time you start acting your age."