The corridor led us deeper into the basement. There was no way to stop us. It was however surprising that, considering how far we had come, we hadn’t yet seen anyone who even tried. Almost as if every living being had been evacuated from their headquarters so that we would end up empty-handed, despite how far we had come. But we had made our own preparations, so I was certain that Myro and the rest of our diligent helpers had already managed to apprehend the fugitive humans. Or at least knew exactly where to find them, ready to round them up the moment they’d get the orders to do so. 

If the place truly was as empty as it seemed, Juliel would have made that known to the rest of us. One glance towards him, however, was enough to make him confirm my assumptions with a nod. There was still someone in here. 

He lifted a single finger. So, only one person was awaiting us? That surprised me, as I doubted that individual had stayed behind because he missed the signal to run. What motives did a single human have, to remain here, when everyone else on their side had already fled?

It was quite possible that they had prepared a suicide mission, one last ditch effort to end our lives in the expense of one of their own. That would be an annoyance, but nothing that I would assess as a serious problem. Still, it was better to stay alert for now.

The location gave off the impression that its owner mostly had practicality in mind while building it. It came as no surprise that the only decorative elements within this hideout were traps, meant to eliminate any uninvited visitors daring enough to enter. For human standards, the equipment must be as impressive as it was deadly. For me, it was little more than a light training session in an unfamiliar location. It reminded me of the simulation rooms back home that I used to train in as a child. The only difference was, that in this scenario, we actually were on a mission in a different world. That and the difficulty level that seemed almost too easy in comparison to what I had practiced back then. Busting through their defenses felt more like a leisurely stroll. And a nostalgic one at that, which lifted my spirit. I had to constantly remind myself that there might be hidden reasons to why our infiltration was progressing so easily. 

We followed gray, spartanic corridors until we found ourselves in a big office that seemed to double as a conference room. The long table with eight designated seats was missing all its attendees. In contrast, the massive work desk made from dark bog oak wood still was manned with a single person, just as Juliel had indicated. Behind the young man with black hair and bright blue eyes, I spotted a large screen on the wall, which I hadn’t inspected in detail before.

The first thing I noticed about the stranger was the absence of fear in his features. I was even more surprised that I could not smell it on him either. No matter how good people were at acting, their scent always told our sensitive noses when they were playing tricks on us. Whoever this man was, he didn't seem fearful, nor had he given up on his life, the will to fight resonated too much in his attitude.

"Oh, so you are actually not 12 years old." The words directed at us showed no concern. Rather, they drew my attention to the display behind him.

Our social security numbers? Someone had done some research. Accompanied by a lot of other data that proved our interlocutor had gathered quite a bit about us.

I snorted in amusement, stepping up to the man in front of me and staring down at him as if my gaze alone could bring him to his knees.

"Well, well. It seems you already know with whom you have the pleasure. Unfortunately, I can't say it's mutual." The odor of paints and solvents rose to my nose. If I had still possessed any doubt that we were on the right track, it was erased. "We're on a quest to find the artist behind Jonas Krewood, and something tells me you can help us with that."

I stared at him expectantly. Lyras, Juliel, and Damahir had taken up positions behind me, keeping in the background while I tried to read something off his features. How much did he know? If he could paint this picture and had figured out that our official identities didn't exist, did he have any idea who he was really dealing with?

Instead of responding to my question, the figure at the desk remained surprisingly calm. "Mister Walker, Mister Jefferson, sit down. It's uncomfortable to talk while standing." The human turned to the two brothers and nodded to them as well, extending the invitation to them. But neither of us even thought of accepting this offer. To have seated ourselves would have meant to consider him an equal in conversation - and the last thing his race could ever be, was anything equal to us. What foolish, weak creatures they were to think the hare could ask the wolf to a table.

"No, thank you. I find standing here gets us to the point much faster. We're not here for a nice chat. But I guess you already knew that." Why else would so many vehicles have left the premises with our arrival? Whoever the man was, he had prepared for us, and that reinforced my suspicion that he had a sotarineon informant. "The sooner you tell us what we're looking for, the sooner we'll be done." However, I deliberately left open what that end would turn out to be. His chances of survival were significantly tied to what he would reveal to us.

The other three continued to wait. One person was not worthy of being dealt with by two of us at once, and each of them trusted me to take care of him alone.

The young man didn't make any expression and instead pointed at the screen behind him. "I hope it's okay to address you by your aliases. Or would you like to tell me your actual names?" He looked amused, as if he enjoyed having blown our cover. "I know Mr. Krewood. He has invested in stock in my company. I maintain close contact with my shareholders. However, I haven't spoken to him in some time."

"I'm not surprised," I returned. I gave him a smug grin. "But Mr. Krewood himself is perfectly indifferent to me. What I want is the real artist behind his painting. Mr. Krewood couldn't even paint if his life depended on it." We had finally verified that in person. How long would the man try to be ignorant? If he played dumb, we would probably have to resort to other means to find out the truth.