It was August 4th, and Candado frowned as he stared at the headline dominating the newspaper:

  "DESZA IS DEAD"

  Those words couldn't align with Candado's reality, but as he often said, anything was possible.

  "What a strange event. I can hardly believe it."

  "It's in the paper, so it must be true," Hammya said as she fed her turtle.

  "No, the newspaper is never objective, only subjective," Candado replied, rolling up the paper and sliding it across the table. "Ramiro said he broke his neck, but those are just his words. When he tried to show the body, it had already disappeared."

  "Are you saying he might have survived?"

  Candado paused, thoughtful.

  "Hmm. He said he broke his neck. It's humanly impossible for someone to survive that. But even if he's dead, the rest of his squad is still out there."

  "And?"

  Candado leaned back in his chair.

  "I don't know. My real concern and goal are Greg and Pullbarey. But now that their servant is dead..."

  Hammya stepped closer.

  "Yes?"

  "Nothing. Forget it. It's impossible."

  "Hmm?"

  Candado stood up and walked toward the garden, with Hammya following him.

  "Why are you following me?"

  Hammya grinned.

  "I think it’ll be fun."

  "...Whatever."

  "Thanks."

  Just as Candado was about to step outside, a hand grabbed the back of his shirt with brutal strength, yanking him backward and slamming him to the ground.

  "CLEMENTINA?!"

  A few bricks tumbled at the garden entrance.

  "What the…?"

  "That was cybernetically close."

  "Ha," Candado sighed. "Your catchphrase is back."

  "No, of course not," Clementina said, extending her hand.

  Candado took it and got to his feet.

  "What happened?"

  "Mr. Hipólito was restoring a wall in the attic, damaged from the Bari’s visit. Rainwater was leaking through."

  "But I didn't hear any noise upstairs," Hammya remarked.

  "Miss, it's just cement and a trowel. Besides, it's in the attic. It doesn't make much noise."

  "Whatever. Thanks, Clem."

  Clementina froze for a moment.

  "N-No problem."

  "Anyway, I'm heading to the guild."

  "Are you coming with us?"

  (Us?!) Hammya and Clementina thought in unison.

  "I'll stay behind today, sir. Mr. Hipólito might need a hand."

  "I see. Let's go, Hammya."

  "Ah... Right."

  Hammya looked at Clementina, who smiled nonchalantly while shrugging her shoulders.

  "Shall we go?"

  "Y-yes."

  As they reached the door, Candado grabbed a coat from the rack and draped it over Hammya as if she were a queen and he her servant, leaving her somewhat confused.

  "It's cold outside," he said before placing his usual beret on his head.

  He opened the door, and both stepped outside. But if they thought that wrapping Hammya in a coat was strange, it became even more so when Candado, instead of walking ahead of her as usual, walked beside her, matching her pace.

  "Candado?"

  "Yes?"

  "You’re different today."

  "Am I? I guess so."

  As they were about to cross the street, Candado noticed a motorcycle speeding through a red light without any intention of stopping. He quickly extended his arm to stop Hammya from moving forward. When the motorcycle rushed by, Candado placed his arm around her back, further bewildering her. Once they reached the other sidewalk, Candado courteously withdrew his arm, and they continued walking.

  "Yes."

  "Hmm?"

  "Nothing."

  Candado and Hammya arrived at the guild. The house was somewhat noisy, with shouting and laughter echoing from within.

  "They’re so loud," Hammya remarked.

  "It’s probably because we’ve got a mission," Candado replied.

  Just as Candado was about to turn the doorknob, a sword blade shot through the wooden door, lifting his beret slightly.

  "Matlotsky!" a voice yelled. "How many times do I have to kill you for you to understand? Don’t touch my photos!"

  "It was an accident! Calm down!"

  Alarmed, Hammya grabbed Candado’s arm and pulled him away from the sharp blade.

  "I see they’re arguing again," he commented, unfazed.

  Candado grabbed a nearby stick and knocked on the door with it.

  "Hey, open up!"

  "Y-yes, sorry!"

  Declan hurried to open the door, pulling his sword back first.

  "Sorry," he said, embarrassed.

  Candado stepped inside.

  "Good morning, everyone."

  "Good morning, Candado!" they all greeted in unison.

  "Is anyone missing?"

  "Aside from Héctor, Clementina and Liv aren’t here," Walsh replied.

  Candado removed his coat and placed it on the table.

  "Do we have a request?"

  "One. It came in last night," Lucas said, handing him an envelope.

  "Client? Age? Price?"

  "Paola Herrero, 23 years old, offered 20,000 pesos," Declan answered.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Candado opened the envelope, finding a letter and a photo inside.

  "Alright, a relatively easy job."

  "Why?"

  "An eight-year-old girl is missing."

  "And how does that make it easy?"

  "I said relatively easy, not easy, Anzor. I said it that way because this time, we’re not going somewhere far, avoiding street disturbances with burning buildings, and saving some important civilian from the Traffic Lights."

  "Oh, I get it now."

  "Very perceptive, Natalia."

  "Thanks."

  "But back to the point, I know how to find this little one."

  "Like that?!"

  "Hey, hey, calm down," Candado cleared his throat. "The girl in this photo is a Lucera, probably a job for the Re-creators."

  "What’s that?" Erika asked.

  "The Re-creators are 'monstaunos,' a distortion of the word 'monster.' They are beings with peculiarities; some were born like that because of the asteroid, like me. Others were normal people who were abducted for experiments, which happens in 80% of cases," Andersson explained.

  "Oh, I see," Erika said.

  "And what are the Luceros then?" Hammya asked.

  "I don’t know, this is the first time I’ve heard of them," Andersson replied.

  "I do know," Candado said.

  "Really, Candado?"

  "Yes, Emerald," he continued. "Sara told me about them. The Luceros are children born from nature, but in a more... extreme sense. To put it simply, does everyone here know the story of Rucciménkagri? I don’t need to say who she is, but her birth is noteworthy. She was a seed that sprouted from the ground like any other tree. According to what Sara told me, 'nature'—that’s what humanity calls it, since they have to coexist with humans—is forced to coexist with mankind. But it’s the humans who harm it: mass hunting, deforestation, river and lake pollution, the depletion of the ozone layer... All that forces nature to intervene. And when it does, it does so in a way that’s very harmful to humanity. That’s how Luceros are born."

  "What are they doing?" Anzor asked.

  "Imagine Earth is a person with cancer. We know the only treatment is chemotherapy. Well, in this analogy, we are the cancer, and the luceros are the chemotherapy. The doctors, in this case, are nature itself. I should get a prize for summarizing something so complex."

  "My God," murmured Pucheta.

  "That's right. Every once in a while, when mankind doesn't respect nature, it is forced to act. The luceros are born with a purpose: to restore what humans have destroyed. And, many times, that involves disastrous consequences for mankind. If a hundred years ago there was a huge forest where today there is a city, the lucero will not hesitate to destroy the city to rebuild the forest. That's how Rucciménkagri was born."

  "So..."

  "Wait, how do you know she's a lucero?" Lucas interrupted.

  "Sara told me how to identify a lucero. It's easy to spot." Candado touched his index finger to his eyes. "They don't have irises."

  Everyone crowded together to get a better look at the photo.

  "What is vital for us, isn't for them. Sunlight doesn't affect them."

  "Woooo, she's pretty," Viki said.

  "What do you think, Candado?" Germán asked.

  "We should call this Paola Herrero."

  "Why?"

  "Something tells me she lied to us or hid some information."

  About an hour later, Miss Paola Herrero made her appearance, just as Candado had requested. She wore a hood that covered her body from the waist up, including her face. She was sitting in the red armchair in the living room, holding a cup of coffee, courtesy of Lucas. In front of her was Candado's desk. To her left was Germán, and to her right, Declan. The rest of the group waited in the next room.

  "I can understand why you called me to accept the mission, but it would've been faster if you had done it by email or phone."

  "Miss Paola, I appreciate you taking the trouble to come see me."

  "Thanks?"

  "And please, you don’t need to do that."

  "Do what?"

  "Lie to me."

  "I haven't lied."

  "Haha, false. A guild works on trust. Without it, it's doomed to fail, just like the mission."

  "I haven't lied..."

  "I know your name isn’t Paola, I know you’re not human, and I know the girl isn’t your daughter. I also know she’s a lucero."

  "...I must admit, of all the guilds and circuits I’ve asked for help, none could be of use. But I didn’t think this one would have someone like you, especially someone who knew something."

  "Indeed, some guilds are born for fun, and others with a purpose in mind."

  "And what's this one?"

  "Both."

  "Really? It doesn’t seem like it. That face doesn’t look made for fun, from what I see."

  "I’m sorry I can’t smile at you, Miss. I understand you hid the truth, but this guild doesn’t function like the others. Being old, it has an unbreakable law that not even the O.M.G.A.B. has: client confidentiality. In other words, everything you say will remain a secret between you and me. If you want help with something big, tell me everything you know."

  "I could walk away."

  "True, you can. But you said it yourself: they weren't helpful in the search."

  "I might have lied. Who knows?"

  "You didn’t. I know when someone lies."

  "Everyone says that."

  "I don't care what the world says. I care about what I say. And when I say I know when someone is lying, I mean it."

  "Oh yeah? Can you prove it?"

  Declan felt offended. The sound of his sword handle being gripped tightly could be heard. Candado, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his hands and observing her intently.

  “You’re not human. I noticed by the way you walk. As for what you are, I must admit, it was tricky. At first, I thought you were a reptile; after all, it's freezing outside, and you drank a cup of boiling coffee. But I discarded that idea and jumped straight to a more extreme one: an arachnid. But not just any arachnid. You're not a tick, nor a spider. You're a very rare creature. At least, I've never seen one before. You're a scorpion. Or, as my mother would say, an ‘alacrán.’ I paid attention to your posture. You walk too upright, as if you have a second spine. That’s due to your tail. Scorpions keep it raised constantly. I also noticed the sound when you touched the cup. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough for my ears. That explains why you wear such exaggeratedly long sleeves. And as for how I know the girl isn’t your daughter, it was simple. She doesn’t look like you physically. Besides, she’s a lucero, and generally, luceros don’t have parents. How do I know? Because luceros are known for not having irises. I discarded the possibility of a disease because, if that were the case, her eyes would appear asymmetric. Instead, she has a beautiful ring around her eye, which confirms it.”

  ...

  “We can keep discarding ideas. I’ve got all day. You can keep dodging, and I’ll stay here, talking.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I need to know if you’re breaking any laws. And I’m not going to lift a finger, nor will my friends, to capture a lucero. It's a complicated and dangerous task. Why? Because you’re here. That means someone else out there is looking for her. It’s a race against time to see who reaches the girl first.”

  ...

  “Kid, you know too much for your own good.”

  “What I know, I don’t disclose. And those around me don’t either.”

  She exhaled and withdrew her sleeves, revealing her hands—or rather, her pincers. Then she stood up, shrugged off her coat and hood. Her short red hair was visible, along with a small scar adorning her right temple. She had two additional eyes near her forehead, red with white circles. She wore a shiny black suit with a purple tie, decorated with an old scorpion-shaped necklace. Her boots were dirty with earth, proof of her journey there. A tail, tipped with a sharp and threatening stinger, emerged from her waist.

  “You nailed it, kid. But you forgot one detail.”

  “Which one?”

  She raised her pincers and rotated them, revealing what appeared to be human hands.

  “Oh, I see. I missed that.”

  “It’s fine.” She placed her coat over the back of the armchair with her tail. “I know you’re efficient. Maybe too efficient for a kid. In fact, you remind me of an old friend.”

  “Oh, then we’d get along just fine.”

  “Yes, maybe.”

  Candado stood up and walked toward her, extending his hand.

  “Now, could you help me with this puzzle?”

  She—better known as Eva Kaikai—was a guardian of the syndicate Sara and had served faithfully for nearly five years. But due to recent and grave events, which she preferred not to speak of, the situation had changed. Sara, concerned, had gathered her best guards and ordered them to find all the luceros who would be born that year, before “that” organization did.

  It was known that two luceros were going to be born in Argentina. Eva, being from the region, was sent to Chaco to find them. However, when she found the first one, it was too late. “They” had beaten her to it and taken him away, taking something more than just his existence: his heart.

  But there was still hope. The second lucero, a girl, had been born in the impenetrable Chaco. Eva patiently waited for her birth. They spent a few days together, enjoying a fleeting peace, until that peace was shattered. “They” found them. Eva and the girl were captured. However, Eva’s experience and training helped her escape. She searched desperately for the little one, but she was gone. The girl had fled to this place, and finding her alone was a daunting task.

  Candado clenched his fists tightly, unable to hide his indignation. His gaze burned with the same intensity as the flames engulfing his hands. And he wasn't the only one. Tension spread throughout the room. Some tried to hide it, like Germán, who barely opened his left eye without wiping the smile off his face. Viki shifted uncomfortably, Andersson was terrified, and Hammya, confused, couldn't grasp the gravity of the situation.

  "Vile..." Candado murmured, his eyes glowing with a burning light. "They came to trample my home. Vile and disgusting creatures."

  "I see you already knew them," Eva said in a neutral tone.

  Candado took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

  "Yes, unfortunately."

  "I hope they complete the mission."

  "This is much more than a mission, Miss Eva," Candado responded, his voice firm. "I will offer my help, and I swear I won't allow them to touch her. But in return, I want you to tell me why you need the lucera."

  Eva nodded.

  "Agreed."

  Candado wasted no time giving orders.

  "Declan, you'll help Eva. With your sharp senses, finding her will be faster."

  "Yes, sir," Declan affirmed.

  "The rest of you, leave and search every corner of this area. If there are no traces, extend the search to the border with Paraguay if necessary."

  "Understood!" they all responded in unison.

  "Good. The sooner, the better."

  Everyone left the house immediately. Only Candado and Hammya remained in the room. She, motionless, watched him with unease.

  "Is something wrong?" Candado asked with visible discomfort.

  "I just have one question."

  Candado approached calmly.

  "I'm listening."

  "Who are 'they'?"

  Candado sighed, gently stroking Hammya's head.

  "I once told you that 97% of the world's population has powers."

  "That's right."

  "When Tánatos fell, there were people from that 3% without powers who began to fear those who did have them. They feared our power, and because of that, they started to covet it. They wanted to possess what they couldn't have: our Segalma. That small group turned into an organization."

  Hammya listened attentively, without interrupting.

  "And that's how the Agents were born. People without scruples who don't hesitate to attack children, the elderly, or pregnant women to achieve their goal. As long as they can experiment and create their weapons, they don't care who they have to sacrifice. To them, we are nothing more than mutations of the human race, creatures unworthy of existence."

  Hammya, distressed, placed her hand on Candado's shoulder.

  "I'm fine," he assured her with a faint smile.

  She withdrew her hand, but concern remained in her eyes.

  "Over these hundred years, the Agents have massacred both circusians and unionists. They don't care who they trample over."

  Candado fell silent for a moment. Then, in a grave tone, he added:

  "Hammya, if you ever... I hope it never happens, but if you ever encounter an Agent, run. They are easy to recognize. They wear a gold earring and a mark of an eye on their right wrist. Also, their presence is unmistakable. They inspire fear and a deep uncertainty."

  "I understand," Hammya whispered.

  "Thank you."

  Candado moved away from the window and headed for the door.

  "Now, come with me. It's time for you to see how things work in the Brotherhood."