The morning in Igwynt was bustling, with lively streets and the underground levels of the Cypress Fir Tower teeming with activity. Inside the Serenity Bureau, people moved about busily. In a corner of the main hall stood a heavy iron door, unoccupied at the nearby workstation. Amid the commotion in the Bureau’s underground space, no one seemed to notice the vacant desk. Unbeknownst to them, the heavy iron door, previously shut, began to slowly open, revealing a furtive figure. Carrying a briefcase, Brandon, a bespectacled and scholarly-looking man, emerged from behind the door. He first closed it securely, then glanced around cautiously. “So far, so good. No one has noticed anything unusual. I’ve managed to retrieve as much as I could. The critical moment is now.” Clutching the heavy briefcase, Brandon thought to himself. He had taken everything he could from the Bureau’s Sealed Vault—classified documents, spiritual storage items, and mystical artifacts. These items would serve as his future foothold and capital within the organization he was defecting to. This mission, entrusted to Brandon by Buck, was to steal as much as possible from the Bureau’s Vault while the Bureau Director and the Hunter Squad were away. The mission was now halfway complete. The final step was to leave the Bureau with the briefcase undetected—a task fraught with danger. The Bureau’s exit points were all under the watch of Illuminating Beacons. These lamps could penetrate objects to reveal traces of spirituality. If unregistered traces were detected, the lamps would trigger alarms that would alert the entire Bureau. Because of these lamps, external Beyonder forces couldn’t infiltrate the Bureau, and mystical items couldn’t easily be taken out. Usually, Brandon carried a vial of Chalice drug on him. Its spiritual traces were minimal, and its effects were contained within a Shadow-repelling test tube, allowing it to evade detection as long as he avoided proximity to the lamps. But today was different. The items in the briefcase radiated Spiritual traces a hundred times stronger than the drugs. Crossing the lamps’ detection range would undoubtedly trigger an alert. Brandon, however, had a plan. Taking a deep breath, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small, severed human finger. This was a Chalice spiritual storage item, confiscated during a raid on Burton’s base and stored in the Vault. Brandon had stolen it and kept it on him instead of placing it in the briefcase. It was his key to escape. Casting another glance at his oblivious colleagues, Brandon seized a moment when no one was watching. He discreetly placed the severed finger into his mouth, chewed it without hesitation, and swallowed. Then, gripping the briefcase, he headed toward one of the exits. This particular exit was the farthest from any Illuminating Beacon. While passing through the detection zone was inevitable, delaying the moment of exposure to the last second would buy him precious time. Brandon quickened his pace toward the chosen exit. As he neared the detection zone, he pulled out a Devouring Sigil from his pocket—another item taken from the vault. This sigil, once seized by the Hunter Squad, was now pressed against his forehead. As it burned, the symbol of the Chalice appeared on his brow. “Grant me your protection, O Great Blood Chalice,” he muttered under his breath. At that moment, the Chalice spirituality within him surged. Brandon’s physique became stronger, and with a burst of speed, he dashed through the detection zone. The nearest Illuminating Beacon flickered wildly, and moments later, alarms blared throughout the Bureau, startling everyone. Those in the hall turned toward the flashing lamp in surprise. They saw Brandon, clutching his briefcase, disappearing through the exit. “Someone’s smuggling restricted items! After him!” shouted one of the remaining Bureau members, pointing to the exit. A group of pursuers immediately gave chase. Meanwhile, Brandon, bolstered by the sigil’s effects, took the stairs two at a time. He emerged through a hidden door into the ground floor of the Cypress Fir Tower, sprinting toward the main lobby at breakneck speed. In the lobby, Mrs. Ada sat at the reception desk, staring curiously at a freshly delivered bouquet. Her moment of tranquility was shattered when a small alarm bell on her desk began to ring loudly, its shrill sound catching her off guard. “What now?” she muttered, frowning. Just then, hurried footsteps approached. She turned to see Brandon, visibly flustered, sprinting toward the main doors with a briefcase. In an instant, Ada pieced together the situation. Rising from her desk, she grabbed a revolver from a drawer and aimed it at the fleeing Brandon. “Where do you think you’re taking Bureau property, you damned brat?!” she screeched, firing repeatedly. The gunfire sent nearby civilians into a panic, scattering in all directions. Brandon, caught off guard by Ada’s unexpected aggression, had no choice but to keep running, hoping she’d miss. Ada fired five shots, her anger evident in each pull of the trigger. Though the first four missed, the final shot struck Brandon’s hand, forcing him to drop the briefcase. Its contents spilled across the floor. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Brandon hastily shut the briefcase, scooped up what remained, and bolted out of the building. By the time Ada reached the entrance, he had vanished into the street beyond. In a secluded alley in Igwynt’s upper city, Brandon stumbled along, panting heavily. He glanced around nervously, ensuring no one had followed him. Finally, he exhaled deeply and leaned against a wall. The sigil’s effects had long faded, and the prolonged chase had left him exhausted. He needed a moment to recover before heading to the organization’s rendezvous point. His trembling hand, now missing two fingers, hovered before his face. Staring at the bloodied stumps, he muttered, “That damned old hag... One day, I’ll kill her with my own hands.” Locking the briefcase, Brandon steadied his breathing and staggered into the alley’s center. “Just wait... Once I become a Beyonder, I’ll settle this score.” “You won’t live to see that day,” came a cold voice from behind. Startled, Brandon whirled around to see a gaunt, hook-nosed man in a gray trench coat and hat. “You’re...” Brandon began, but the man interrupted, plunging a knife into his heart. Brandon’s eyes widened in disbelief as he collapsed into a puddle. Standing over the lifeless body, Edrick lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke as he spoke. “Traitors meet only one end, don’t they, Mr. Brandon?” From the puddle, Brandon’s body stirred. He rose, pulling the knife from his chest and returning it to Edrick. “Of course. It’s what I deserve,” Brandon replied calmly. Edrick smirked and walked away, with Brandon following close behind, briefcase in hand. The alley returned to silence, leaving only faint traces of blood in the water.