A stampede erupted on the deck as passengers, caught in blind panic, rushed to and fro to get as far away as they could from the Anomaly—who was firing rounds upon rounds of ink-like blots from its open palms, leaving mouldy patches on everything it came to contact with.

Hundreds of questions bubbled through my mind whilst my hand drew the albedo crystal across the black spots growing on the Cantata's masts and floorboards to cleanse them of the rot before they can decompose into mush.

When did this Anomaly actually arrive? How did it manage to evade the aural compass's detection? Was it because it had immediately possessed that boy? But, out of all the passengers aboard this vessel, why him?

The questions continued to surge inside my head, and I continued to purge the distortions until the crystal crumbled into dust—having been contaminated beyond repair.

Damn. I should have taken more of those crystal fragments.

Without any further means to inhibit the deterioration, I had no choice but to purge the source. The Anomaly is weak, and so is its host. It should be easier to deal with than the one at Allegro by several orders of magnitudes.

And yet, when I looked into those red-tinted eyes, glittering like firelight, I stopped.

The lad had asked me about being a Gatekeeper. Did he hope to become one? The awestruck gaze he held when he approached me with the question was all too familiar. I knew perfectly well how certain folks regard the Gatekeepers, what kind of images they fill their heads with when they think of the bearers of the esteemed suncross insignia…

Those supernaturally gifted individuals, endowed by the power of the Almighty One to protect His creation from the forces that sought to destroy it, they seemed almost divine.

Time seemed to slow down as the memories of my first encounter with Sir Altan flashed across my eyes, and I didn't move when the Anomaly raised his hand towards me, and—

Before I could react, a hole burst through the Anomaly's forehead, and the lifeless body of its host slumped at my feet. And standing behind the empty husk was Celine. She was holding out a beautiful silver wheellock—its sleek barrel glittering under the sunlight, with three pairs of filigree wings spreading around its reload wheel. A classic Sybele creation.  

"Good to know that Personnel Development did more than feed the new recruits theories," I muttered as Celine shoved her gun back into a holster just above her right ankle. "But you were lucky that the Anomaly had chosen such a weak host. Had it possessed someone more powerful, you could have injured yourself, or even gotten yourself killed."

Celine huffed, arms crossed tightly in front of her chest. "You're lucky that I was here to take care of it while you were frozen."

Her statement wasn't wrong, regrettably—that brief moment of hesitation was a rookie mistake that could have been fatal. Still, I wasn't going to let some newbie lecture me with impunity.

" Don't flatter yourself. You left out too many openings—here, here, and here—when you made your move." I tapped a finger against Celine's left shoulder, right forearm, and hip. Nathan would have taken out the rod at this point, although repeating that behaviour on this new recruit would only grant me a six-month pay cut and a probation, at the very minimum. "The fact that the Anomaly was too stupid to take advantage of them speaks more to its folly than to your merits."

"If you call me careless for having an incorrect stance when I got rid of that Anomaly, what does that make you?" She retorted, chin jutting up, as she looked at me with an expression of utter contempt. "You were completely exposed to its attack."

I cannot believe this girl's impertinence. Does she think that being Frederich's daughter gave her the right to completely disregard seniority?

"A Gatekeeper's job is to defend the weak from harm. Wasn't that what you said last night? Most would have waited until at least a year of active duty before being so careless with civilian lives, but I suppose your desire to outdo your peers have gotten the better of you." I bit back.

"That was not what I said!" Celine snapped. "I said, 'I wanted to save humanity from the dangers of Anomalies'—which is exactly what I just did."

Her pitch dropped by about an octave as she whispered in a growl, "Besides, you didn't bat an eye when you had to murder your own friend."

I drew back from that venomous accusation, and shifted my eyes away from her fiery gaze. "…Lennard wasn't exactly a friend…" 

Including that last mission in Allegro, I have worked with Lennard a grand total of four times. I know the extent of his abilities, his tendency to lose track of his surroundings during the heat of battle, and his love for visiting high-end stores after work to spend all his credits on pointless horseball gear he's already owned an entire roomful of (at least until Renee and Dylan found and dragged him back to the base). But besides that, I know very little about the late Kinetics Expert.

"Oh? I thought you two got along quite well. Was that just an act?" Celine tilted her head, and her gaze, wide and inquisitive, felt petrifying.

Lennard wasn't exactly a friend, but I never had any problems with him either. I would certainly never wish him harm—which is more than I could say of several other colleagues whom I will not name.

"In any case, death is something to be expected in our line of duty. Lennard would have been prepared for ." I remarked. "So should you, if you hope to be even a tenth of the hero Frederich was."

"Stop it!" The girl's face flushed crimson, and I winced at her suddenly shrill tone. "Stop talking about my father as if you knew him all that well! You have no idea what happened at Argentum!"

Sometimes I wonder if I could ever stop rattling every hornet's nest I come across. As I tried to formulate another comeback to this insolent newbie, the sparks of conversations that issued among the other passengers on the deck began to burn into my eardrums.

(Is it finally over…? Help… My arm is dying… That looks terrible. Someone call the doctor! What kind of Anomaly was that, anyway? What are those two talking about…? Are they Gatekeepers? Hey! Is that kid dead?)

Feeling that the speculations and rumours that could rise from this chatter could spiral out of control if left unchecked, I finally ripped my attention from Celine to confront the commotion. The crowd has closed in around us, and the incoherent honks that spewed from their mouths drove me to the edge of the deck. Even Celine staggered at being bombardedby queries.

But we were saved from the need to give answers when a vast shadow eclipsed the entire vessel, and all attention were drawn up towards the gigantic being that slowly descended from the sky.

The great bird emitted a melodious trill—something that I've always found jarring against its canine-like face—to signal that she had come in peace. As if hypnotized by her song, the crowd began to stream towards the right deck to get a closer look at the magnificent creature, while I opted to move towards the opposite direction.

I supposed that for the other folks on this vessel, the sight of the simurgh is a novel spectacle. These mountain-dwelling beasts reside only at the highest altitudes, where the peaks are hidden behind the clouds, and most people would go through their entire lifetimes without having caught the slightest glimpse of them.

To this day, the biology and behaviour of the simurghs are not well studied. Not even the Beast Masters spellbonded to these creatures have the answers to even the basic questions about their supposed familiars—such as, how they were able to sustain themselves with the scant flora and/or fauna of the mountaintops, or how the narrow summits could be large enough for these massive beasts to live and mate on (if they even mated at all).

Such is the mystery and majesty of the simurghs that many legends describe them as the deities' ride. Thus, among the Gatekeepers, the simurgh's saddle is reserved for the most esteemed figures of our ranks, and the flame-like crest that marked the forehead of the one now approaching the Cantata is unmistakably Inna's.

Five lanky figures, covered from head-to-toe in black, leapt aboard the ship, and the mob that were gathered by the railing parted like curtains. Only when the path is clear did Klaus finally deign to alight from his mount's back, and began assuring the passengers that they are in no immediate danger, that they are to continue their journey to Diamane with Inna, while the hazmat crew assessed the extent of the Distortion's effects on the Cantata.

Klaus's appearance in such a place is almost as rare to me as Inna's is to the others, and I folded my arms as I watched him address the crowd, trying to mentally prepare myself for what I suspect is his reason for being here.

It didn’t take the passengers much convincing to trade their transport, although the ship crew were less happy about it. As the stream of people began to file onto Inna's back, Klaus finally turned to me.

"As always, your lags in reporting status updates leaves a lot to be desired, Rubrene," he said. "And I would appreciate it if you do not make a spectacle of yourselves."