Sancardia, the capital of Tanacia, the Nation of the Circuits, was located in Antarctica, at the heart of the continent, sealed off by its immense ice walls. Within, a greenhouse containing all four seasons had been created—a miracle of Thanatos' magic. The philosophy of this place was clear: "Let us go to the end of the world to create the beginning of the world." Crazy and absurd to many, but to the Circuits, these were the wise words of a great leader.

  Its cities, forests, and rivers were considered magical and beautiful—a true paradise on Earth. Tanacia had been recognized by the UN as the first society of children. Roughly the size of Spain, though slightly smaller, Tanacia had managed to protect itself from Antarctica’s extreme cold through a magical bubble that kept the temperature stable, allowing its civilization to flourish—a remarkable feat of Thanatos, the Builder.

  Tanacia was governed by a parliament of approximately fifty-one deputies, led in turn by the G.C.G. (Grand General Council), composed of five councilors. These councilors were inspired by the Five Greats: Thanatos the Builder, Chronos the Clockmaker, Victor the Judge, Laila the Butcher, and Ruccimenkagri the Dryad. The president, known in the country as the Integrity, was also referred to as 'president' by those outside Tanacia due to confusion over his title.

  Joel and Guz walked leisurely through the streets of the grand city of Tanacia, in its capital, Verlonia, carrying out J?rgen’s orders.

  "Incredible," Joel marveled.

  "First time?" Guz asked, his tone unchanged.

  "Wait... You’ve been here before?"

  "I was born here," Guz replied calmly.

  "This is... the first time I’ve heard that."

  "Because it’s the first time I’ve said it."

  Joel, who had been walking two steps behind Guz, quickened his pace to walk beside him.

  "What’s the plan?"

  "Enter the Congress and retrieve some documents."

  "This is the third time you’ve told me that, but I still don’t get it."

  "Because there’s nothing to get, Joel. That’s just how it is."

  "Do you realize this is the Congress we’re talking about? It won’t be easy to get in."

  Suddenly, Joel stopped and stared at a wall.

  "Whoa," he murmured.

  Guz halted as well, following Joel’s gaze. It was a "Wanted" poster, but with an unusual detail—it read “Dangerous” and “Do not approach, contact authorities.” The peculiar part? The face on the poster was a photograph of Candado.

  "Why?" Joel asked, confused.

  "He was once the Integrity Marshal of Tanacia—the highest position, even above the president."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. I voted for him."

  "What?"

  "That’s right. His speech about maintaining peace convinced me. But that was something the Congress was not willing to tolerate. The day the locks gathered in Tanacia, there was an attack on the Congress, which enraged the voters."

  "That’s awful. And to think he would plan something like that."

  "It wasn’t him. It was a setup to remove him from power. And they succeeded. Candado was exiled under charges of treason. However, he had his cards well hidden. When he became the leader of the Circuit, he earned the disapproval of the guilds. To gain their favor, he had to give away all of the Circuit’s wealth and hand over the city’s secrets."

  "And what happened next?"

  "He succeeded. Candado became the Candado (President) of Kanghar."

  "Wow, I see why you hate him."

  "I don’t hate him for that. I hate him for what happened afterward."

  "Afterward?"

  "The Congress abolished the position of Integrity Marshal and created the title of President. Esteban won the election, but there were riots because he was a former friend of Candado. To gain public approval, Esteban made a move—a stupid one, but an effective one."

  "What was it?"

  "Attacking Kanghar. One morning, as I was returning from shopping, everyone was gathered in the city’s central plaza, watching the siege of Kanghar. There were cheers and applause for this great achievement, but..."

  "But?"

  "I remember seeing him. Candado had returned to Tanacia."

  Two Years Earlier

  Candado walked through the crowd that had gathered to hear Esteban’s speech about his victory in the attack on Kanghar.

  "Arrogant," he muttered as he advanced with a firm stride.

  With a snap of his fingers, he rose into the air, engulfed in flames, until he reached the balcony where Esteban stood. The crowd fell silent upon noticing his presence.

  "It’s been two months since my sister’s death, and you use this moment to destroy what she built. If there is anything left of our friendship, please, stop the attack," Candado said, his voice both firm and broken.

  Esteban, furious, launched a bolt of lightning at him. Candado dodged it with agility, remaining suspended in the air.

  "I am not here to decide your actions, but in this matter, Esteban Bonaparte Everett, I command you to cease the attack."

  Guz, who had approached the crowd, glanced at the sky uneasily.

  "You’re a traitor! I will never listen to a traitor!" Esteban shouted, beginning to charge a wave of energy in his left hand.

  Candado slowly closed his eyes and sighed. With a flick of his right index finger, he destroyed one of the tallest towers in Tanacia. The structure collapsed, bringing down several houses around it. Chaos erupted, and the people in the plaza began to flee in terror.

  "I'm not asking you. I'm ordering you," Candado said softly, as the destruction continued.

  Esteban stopped his attack, clearly enraged.

  "ARE YOU INSANE?! THESE WERE THE SAME PEOPLE YOU SWORE TO PROTECT, BARRET!"

  "And the same ones who betrayed me. Stop the attack, and I will leave," Candado replied, his tone defiant.

  From his hiding spot behind a fountain, Guz observed the scene, worried.

  "Your sister would be so disappointed in you!" Esteban shouted, trying to provoke a reaction.

  Candado frowned for a moment before snapping his fingers again. This time, a great fire swept through hectares of forest, consuming three more buildings.

  "If you don’t stop the invasion, I WILL DESTROY TANACIA WITH MY OWN HANDS! IF THERE’S ANYTHING LEFT OF OUR FRIENDSHIP, YOU'D BETTER STOP, AND THEN I WILL TOO!" Candado roared, his fury palpable.

  Esteban, his teeth clenched in rage, surveyed the devastation.

  "Minister," Esteban whispered. "Cancel the attack."

  The minister left the balcony, and within minutes, the warships besieging Kanghar began to withdraw. The news spread rapidly through television broadcasts.

  "Good boy," Candado mocked before flying away, leaving the chaos behind.

  Present

  "That day, I felt two things: fear and hatred."

  "Fear and hatred?"

  "Fear of Candado Barret’s immense power and hatred for that useless president, Esteban Everett, for surrendering to him. Tanacia does not need incompetence in power."

  "I see. But what you’re telling me—won’t it be counterproductive? After all, Candado has the power to destroy a city."

  "That’s exactly why he must die. Someone with that power should not live," he replied coldly.

  Joel recalled Desza’s words, spoken days before chaos erupted in Buenos Aires.

  "Guz, my dear, could you start preparing the act in the streets, please?" Desza had said in a soft tone.

  Without a word, Guz had obeyed and disappeared within minutes.

  "Good," Desza clapped. "Group meeting."

  "Wait, aren’t we going to wait for Guz?"

  "Oh, Joel, I think I forgot to tell you, but under no circumstances should Guz know about this," Desza replied, devoid of emotion.

  "What?"

  "Guz isn’t trustworthy in these matters. The only reason he’s with us is because we need something that no one else on this planet has," J?rgen interjected.

  "R?sse?s, I’m glad you’re okay, but please stop playing with those cylinders," Desza said, ignoring J?rgen’s comment.

  "Is Guz dangerous?"

  "No, but if he knew what we were planning, he would surely leave us. And for now, we still need him," Dockly replied as he cleaned his Winchester.

  "So, Joel, this stays between us, okay?"

  "I… I understand," Joel answered, visibly tense.

  "Joel, wake up, this is no time to drift off."

  "Sorry," he scratched his neck and gave a nervous smile. "I'm just a little nervous."

  "You’ll get used to it. Now, follow me."

  Guz and Joel arrived at a wooden house, ready for what was about to happen.

  Just as Joel was about to step inside, Guz stopped him.

  "I need you to understand something. Once we go in, I want you to promise me something."

  "Sure, no problem. What is it?"

  "Inside lives a... ‘peculiar’ person. Don’t ask questions, and don’t point anything out."

  "Understood."

  Guz pushed the door open and stepped in first, with Joel following close behind.

  Inside, several people stood in line, either withdrawing or depositing something.

  "Upstairs, please," Guz said, showing a green card to a security guard.

  The guard took the card, opened it, read it, and then stapled it.

  "Go ahead."

  Guz gestured for Joel to follow him. They climbed the stairs until they reached the third floor, where a massive door stood with a golden plaque that read: "Congressional Library."

  "This is the place?"

  "Yes. Remember what I told you."

  "I do. I promise I'll keep my word."

  Guz hesitated before opening the door. Twice he reached for the handle but pulled back. On the third attempt, he took a deep breath, gripped the handle, and swung the door open.

  Inside the room were three people: two women—one an adult, the other a preteen—and a blindfolded man. The blindfold was black, embroidered with golden roses and birds. The room itself was an expansive library with large windows.

  "Clients? That scent..."

  "It’s me, Richard."

  "Guz."

  Richard stood up from behind the counter and walked toward Guz.

  "I'm glad you came to visit," he said, running his hands over Guz’s face. "I see you're still wearing that mask."

  Guz harshly pushed his arm away, which irritated the two women present.

  "Akira, úrsula, stand down."

  Akira had Eastern features, wore a black suit with red lines, and had her hair tied into a black bow. úrsula, on the other hand, had a red rose growing from her right eye, long straight red hair, and wore an identical outfit to Akira’s. Despite their differences, they shared the same expression—one of anger and disdain toward Guz. It seemed that Richard was the only one pleased by his presence.

  "Well, I’m glad you’re doing well. I was actually about to close early since hardly anyone is looking for a pass today."

  "Good thing I made it in time."

  Richard tilted his head slightly to the right.

  "Seems like you’re not alone."

  "This is Joel, a colleague."

  Joel, following Guz’s cue, spoke up.

  "A pleasure."

  "A pleasure, Joel," Richard replied before turning his attention back to Guz. "So... work, huh? What kind of work?"

  "None of your business."

  "I see. But at least tell me it's not dangerous."

  "Relax. It’s not."

  "…Alright, then. I’m just glad you’re safe. What do you need from me?"

  "A congressional pass."

  "That’s all? No problem. Akira?"

  The woman pulled out a yellow form from the counter, filled it out, stamped it, and handed it over.

  "Guz, are you sure it’s not dangerous?"

  "It’s not."

  Guz snatched the document from her hands.

  "I’m glad you stopped by."

  "Save it, Richard. I’m not coming back. I only came to do what I needed to, and now I’m leaving."

  Richard nodded.

  "I’m sorry."

  Akira stepped forward, but Richard extended his right arm to stop her.

  "Akira, enough."

  Guz clicked his tongue in annoyance and turned away.

  "Let’s go, Joel."

  Guz opened the door, motioning for Joel to step out first. Then, he shut it behind him.

  As they walked down the hallway, the door burst open, and úrsula ran after them.

  "GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUZ!"

  Guz stopped and glanced back.

  "Richard always cared about you! Stop being stupid and come home!"

  Of course, Guz ignored her and kept walking.

  "GUZ!"

  "Some things need to change, and some don’t," Guz muttered under his breath.

  Joel and Guz exited the library and headed straight for the Congress. Although it was relatively close, the walk took about ten minutes.

  Joel remained silent, not asking any questions. It was obvious that his friend never spoke about his past. No one knew what lay behind that mask—scars, deformities, tattoos, wounds, or perhaps nothing at all. Any option was possible.

  Things had already been bad enough when Dockly had forced Guz to remove his mask after he joined Desza. Or at least, that’s what they had told Joel, since he and his sisters were relatively new members of the Witnesses. Desza, on the other hand, had observed the situation with absolute calm, knowing that if it hadn’t been for J?rgen, Guz would have likely killed Dockly.

  "We’re here," Guz announced.

  They stopped in front of the grand steps of the Congress of Tanacia.

  "Doesn’t seem like there are many people today," Joel noted.

  "That works in our favor."

  "Wouldn't it be the opposite?"

  "No," Guz replied, beginning to climb the steps.

  Joel said nothing more and followed him in silence.

  When they reached the door, which was already open, Guz handed him something.

  “Take this.”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  “The passes?”

  “Without them, we won’t be able to access what we’re looking for.”

  “Got it,” Joel said, slipping the passes into his pocket.

  They both stepped inside the congress building, a place where silence reigned. The atmosphere was solemn.

  “Remember the mission,” Guz reminded him.

  “I know... I—”

  Suddenly, a dull sound echoed through the air.

  Puff.

  Joel had bumped into someone.

  “Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

  The person he had run into was slightly taller, only about three centimeters more.

  “It was my fault, don’t worry,” the stranger replied with a smile.

  Guz felt a slight chill as he looked at the man.

  “I see you and your friend, the Pharmagea, have traveled quite a distance,” the stranger remarked, his gaze settling on Guz.

  Joel turned to Guz, confused.

  “Tanacia belongs to everyone,” Guz responded with calculated calm.

  The stranger smiled again.

  “…Everyone is Tanacia,” he said enigmatically.

  “I see you know him, Mr. Pharmagea…” the man added.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather you not call me that,” Guz replied firmly.

  “Of course, no problem,” the man said, raising a hand in farewell. Then, turning to Joel, he added, “Gentlemen, see you around.”

  He gave Joel a pat on the back, making him feel slightly uncomfortable.

  “Walk with your head held high,” he said before walking away.

  “That was strange,” Joel muttered, watching the man disappear down the hall.

  Guz didn’t take his eyes off his retreating figure.

  “We need to hurry,” he said curtly.

  “Sure, let’s go,” Joel responded, following Guz.

  The path through the congress building was uneventful, though the security presence, while not overwhelming, posed a certain risk. They reached the security checkpoint, where they presented their passes to a young woman who offered them a polite smile before allowing them through to the grand library.

  It was an awe-inspiring sight—towering shelves stretched as far as the eye could see, a vast collection of books filling the space.

  “It’ll take years to find those papers,” Joel complained.

  “No, we just have to call them by name, and they’ll appear,” Guz replied calmly.

  “…What?” Joel asked, confused.

  “It’s simple,” Guz said. “Say the name of the documents out loud.”

  “Tiat’s Writings. Like that?”

  The moment Joel spoke those words, exactly three minutes passed before the documents arrived in their hands—perfectly preserved scrolls.

  “They’re in remarkably good condition, despite being a hundred years old,” Joel remarked, impressed.

  “They’re catalysts. They prevent any object from decaying, Joel,” Guz explained with an air of knowledge.

  “Oh… I didn’t know that,” Joel admitted, slightly embarrassed.

  “Alright, time to go,” Guz said, turning to leave.

  Just then—

  “I’m afraid I have to inform you that those papers must be read within this institution and not taken outside. Understood?”

  The voice came from behind them.

  Joel turned around, startled.

  “You?” he asked, barely believing it.

  It was the same man he had bumped into earlier.

  “Look,” Guz interrupted, stepping forward confidently. “We’re only going to read them and return them afterward.”

  “If you’re going to lie, at least do it properly, weones,” the man replied with a mocking laugh.

  He took off his trench coat, revealing a red uniform.

  "Oh, God," Guz whispered, recognizing the insignia.

  "What? What's wrong?" Joel asked, confused.

  "He's from the Triumvirate... Dylan Herrero," Guz replied gravely.

  "Hey, don't whisper—I can't hear you," Dylan mocked, crossing his arms.

  A tense silence followed.

  "We can do this the easy way," Dylan continued, his tone now more serious. "You read it here, or you hand over those papers and leave the congress. Everything will be fine."

  "Alright," Guz responded calmly.

  "What? But..." Joel protested.

  Before he could say another word, Guz snatched the papers from his hand and walked toward Dylan.

  "Thank you very much," Guz said, extending his arm. "I'm glad this didn't turn into a war."

  As Dylan reached out to take the papers, something strange happened. A tentacle emerged from the ground, struck Dylan in the chest, and hurled him against the wall with great force.

  "Run!" Guz shouted.

  Dylan got to his feet and stepped between Guz and the exit. Again, the tentacle burst from the earth and immobilized Dylan.

  Both ran toward the door, but it suddenly swung open, making them stop dead in their tracks.

  "Mmm..."

  A figure stepped forward and calmly closed the door behind him. He appeared to be around sixteen years old, with a C-shaped scar on his forehead. His red hair was slicked back, and he wore a yellow shirt, a tie, a vest, and black gloves.

  "What's going on?" he asked, observing Dylan with a serious expression. "I came because you were taking too long. When I asked about you, they told me you were here, and now I see you're in trouble. What is this?"

  "Sorry, Patrick, but I have everything under control."

  Upon hearing his name, Guz tensed, terrified.

  "Lads, I'll overlook the fact that you attacked an untouchable member of the Triumvirate. In exchange, return that scroll to its place and leave this institution. If you do, your antics will only result in a sanction." Patrick showed not a trace of emotion as he spoke.

  "What do we do?" Joel whispered, not taking his eyes off the man.

  Guz was in shock.

  "Hey, say something!" Joel demanded, seeing Guz remain motionless.

  Joel discreetly tried to slip his hand into his pocket, but before he could do anything, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  "Mate, refrain from acting like a twat," Patrick's voice carried a mocking edge.

  Guz, completely rattled, summoned a tentacle from the ground and wrapped it around the largest bookshelf. With fury, he hurled it toward Patrick.

  "LET'S GO!" Guz shouted, grabbing Joel's hand.

  They both started running.

  Patrick, unfazed, brushed the bookshelf aside with a simple movement and walked toward a pile of books. He picked one up and looked down at Dylan's face.

  "Oh, hello," Patrick said with a smile.

  "How many fingers do you see?" he asked, staring intently.

  "Four," Dylan responded, still dazed.

  "Great, no brain damage." Patrick placed the book back over Dylan's face.

  "Hey, GET THIS BLOODY THING OFF MY FACE!" Dylan yelled, annoyed.

  Patrick pulled a communicator from his pocket and spoke into it.

  "Call Congress and the Erasers. The Scroll of Tiat has been stolen."

  "Mate, you can handle this on your own."

  "I think there are more idiots in the area. Better to conduct a thorough search."

  Patrick adjusted his tie and started after them.

  Guz and Joel kept running through the streets, not daring to look back.

  "We have what we came for. Now we need to get out of here," Guz warned, panting.

  However, they both stopped abruptly, crashing into something invisible.

  "WHAT?!" Joel shouted, confused.

  "A force field," Guz said, cautiously touching the barrier.

  "No way..." Joel responded, looking around for an escape.

  "She's here too," Guz continued gravely. "We're out of luck—the Triumvirate is here."

  Guz looked at his hand, still holding the scroll, then lifted his head. He grabbed Joel's arm and dragged him toward a nearby alley.

  "What's going on?" Joel asked as Guz pressed the scroll against his chest.

  "Take this," Guz ordered, handing him the scroll.

  "What?"

  "It's an unbreakable barrier. But it can be deactivated momentarily if the person controlling it loses focus."

  "What are you about to do, Guz?" Joel asked, concerned.

  "We need the scroll to defeat Candado, right? We have it, and I don’t want to lose it now. I want you to leave and get it into J?rgen’s hands."

  Joel’s mind echoed with Guz’s words. He had blindly believed that the scroll was the key to defeating Candado, when in reality, it was the complete opposite.

  "Joel, there's something I need to tell you..." Guz began, his tone serious.

  "OVER THERE!" Joel suddenly interrupted, spotting something in the distance.

  "Shit, stay put. I'll create an opening for you to escape," Guz said, not turning back.

  "Guz, no…"

  "Stay alert."

  Guz ran toward the center of the plaza, where he saw Patrick descending the stairs, his hands clasped behind his back. He walked with an unsettling calmness, as if this were just another ordinary day for him.

  "Hand over the scroll," Patrick ordered, his gaze locked onto Guz.

  Suddenly, the Erasers surrounded the area, crossbows at the ready.

  "You're surrounded," one of them declared.

  Patrick continued his descent, unhurried, unconcerned.

  Joel moved closer to Guz, pulling out his needles.

  "I told you to stay where you were," Guz scolded, never taking his eyes off Patrick.

  "No, you didn’t," Joel replied, confused.

  "But I implied it."

  "Right. Well, you won’t be able to do this alone."

  "No, I can’t—not alone, not even with help. Patrick is the pillar of the Triumvirate. His strength is on par with Candado’s."

  "I see..." Joel murmured, finally grasping the severity of the situation.

  Patrick came to a halt.

  "I'll say it one last time, kid. Hand over the scroll."

  Guz glanced at Joel, and he immediately understood. Wasting no time, Joel climbed onto Guz’s shoulders and hurled his needles at the Erasers aiming their crossbows at them, gravely wounding several.

  Patrick lunged at them, but Guz took a gamble and charged forward. He threw a clean punch, only for Patrick to catch it effortlessly in his palm.

  "You’re both arrogant," Guz muttered through a tense smile.

  Patrick twisted Guz’s arm, grabbed him by the neck, and slammed him into the ground with brutal force. Joel leaped toward Patrick, aiming a kick.

  "Guz!"

  Patrick caught Joel’s ankle mid-air and slammed him into the ground. Once. Twice. His body bounced limply from the impact. Guz tried summoning more tentacles from the ground, but Patrick swung Joel’s body like a weapon, tearing through them with ease.

  Desperate, Joel ripped a needle from the back of his own neck and flung it at Patrick’s face. The moment it struck, Patrick let him go, and Joel's body crashed heavily into the fountain.

  Guz refused to give in. He kept summoning tentacles as Patrick advanced, his gaze locked onto Guz’s coat, where he assumed the scroll was hidden. Joel, staggering, managed to get back on his feet. He pulled a dagger from his belt and threw it at Patrick. But Patrick reacted instantly—he grabbed Guz by the neck and used him as a shield. The dagger sank into Guz’s shoulder instead.

  Without hesitation, Guz yanked it out and, in a swift movement, plunged it into Patrick’s wrist.

  Patrick showed no sign of pain. He merely let the dagger drop to the ground and continued fighting.

  Joel knew that if they didn’t act fast, they would have no way out. His eyes darted around frantically, searching for the source of the force field.

  One of the wounded Erasers grabbed a crossbow and aimed at Guz. Joel reacted instantly, flinging a needle into his hand before he could shoot.

  That’s when Guz, in the midst of combat, noticed a hidden figure behind a distant column.

  Patrick was gaining ground. Out of every ten attacks, Guz could barely dodge three. The disadvantage was overwhelming.

  And then he saw Dylan sprinting down the stairs.

  There was no other option.

  Guz attacked with speed and fury, blending his invocations with direct strikes, forcing Patrick to step back. When his chance came, he grabbed the dagger and pretended to throw it at Patrick, but at the last moment, a tentacle intercepted it and redirected it toward the column.

  A scream of pain echoed through the hall.

  Patrick turned his head and saw a woman dressed in Triumvirate garments, screaming with a dagger embedded in her waist. Guz took advantage of the distraction, shoved Patrick away, and caught Joel with one of his tentacles.

  "Go now."

  And without waiting for a response, he threw him out of the zone.

  The wounded young woman noticed the escape and quickly reactivated the barrier.

  On the other side, Joel landed on his feet, staggering as he tried to return to help his friend.

  "Guz!"

  "You have to go! Leave now!"

  Helplessness burned across Joel's face as he watched Guz struggling to hold his ground against Patrick and Dylan. They were beating him mercilessly, both physically and magically. Guz tried to push them back with what little strength he had left, but it was useless. Joel watched in horror as his friend fell to his knees, and Dylan, with ruthless coldness, grabbed his right arm—only to break it.

  The summoned tentacles vanished, and a bloodcurdling scream tore from Guz's lips.

  Tears welled up in Joel’s eyes as he turned and ran, fleeing into the night.

  "Hold on... Please hold on. I'll save you. I'll come back for you."

  Guz collapsed onto the ground as Patrick stepped on his chest. He leaned down, rummaged through his pockets, and pulled out the scroll.

  "Thank you..."

  However, something felt off. The parchment was smaller than he remembered. He opened it immediately, and his face tensed.

  He had been tricked.

  It was a fake scroll.

  Despite the agony, Guz let out a wheezing, pained laugh.

  "Looks like the great Hermes Patrick fell for such a cliché trick."

  Patrick remained composed, but as punishment, he stomped down hard on Guz’s broken arm, ripping another scream of agony from him.

  "Dylan, mobilize the Erasers in the area. I want the fugitive caught... And get a doctor for Charlotte."

  "Right away."

  Patrick grabbed Guz by the collar of his cloak and pulled him close until they were face to face.

  "You're lucky that 'the caves' don’t exist in Tanacia, but you’ll still end up in prison."

  He let go of him with disdain and turned his gaze toward the direction Joel had fled. Then, he noticed something else.

  A crowd had gathered around them—silent witnesses to the chaos.

  Among them, three figures stood out: Richard, Akira, and úrsula.

  Richard, his face partially obscured by bandages, bore an expression of deep concern that not even the wrappings could hide.

  "You’re a fool, Hermes."

  Patrick lowered his head and saw Guz, still wounded, laughing weakly.

  "You defend a weak president and idolize another who is even worse."

  "You are the worst Pharmagea to ever exist. There's a reason your tribe exiled you."

  "Believe me, you're on the wrong side."

  Patrick used his foot to push aside Guz’s cloak, revealing a necklace with the emblem of the eagle.

  "Witnesses... A bunch of deranged fanatics. I'm surprised a Pharmagea like you has forgotten how your kind was treated by the Witnesses of Uriel’s Gesta."

  The Erasers arrived and hauled Guz to his feet. Before they could take him away, he smirked defiantly.

  "Very soon, everything in Sancardia will change."

  They clasped red metal cuffs around his wrists—an inhibitor designed to suppress his powers—and forced him into a transport vehicle.

  Charlotte came running and joined Patrick.

  "I think you should see a doctor now."

  Charlotte lifted her shirt, revealing that her wound had already been treated.

  "You're the one who's injured, not me," she retorted.

  Patrick looked at his wrist, surprised.

  "Oh, I forgot."

  Charlotte sighed, took his arm, rolled up his sleeve, and began treating the wound.

  "I'm sorry… this was my fault…"

  "It wasn’t anyone’s fault. This time, someone was able to notice your invisibility."

  Patrick placed his left hand on his chin.

  "Look at me, it’s okay. You're a strong girl."

  Charlotte blushed slightly.

  "Well… of course I am."

  "That’s the spirit."

  Patrick turned his gaze toward where Richard was standing.

  "I see I have a lead."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Oh, nothing."

  Hours after the incident, Esteban was on his way to Congress. A national alarm had been triggered due to an attempted theft of the sacred papers of the Founder, forcing him to attend despite having avoided the last few meetings. He was furious about the entire situation.

  He entered discreetly through one of the second-floor doors and made his way to his seat, which was occupied by his vice president, Fernán.

  "Praise be to Ta—"

  "Don't say that name in my presence," Esteban cut in while shaking his hand.

  "My apologies."

  Fernán News, his childhood friend from Tanacia, had naturally orange hair and sky-blue eyes. His attire was formal while at work, though in his everyday life, he was rather disorderly.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the Universal Formation of Circuits of the Eye of Thanatos is now present."

  All the congress members stood up.

  "Sit down," Esteban ordered as he took his seat.

  The assembly obeyed.

  "Mr. President, I request permission to speak."

  "You have the floor, Senator Alberto Johannes," Esteban granted, raising his left hand.

  "We are grateful for the control you have exercised over these two years of governance, but… this was a serious violation of Tanacia’s sovereignty. The guilds—"

  "The guilds were not responsible," Esteban interrupted.

  "Do not interrupt me, Mr. President."

  Esteban stood up.

  "I believe I wasn’t clear. Well, you don’t want me to be, so I’ll repeat it: WE are NOT going to war!"

  "No one has mentioned war."

  "Senator Alberto, do you think I’m two years old? You’re nearly thirty, and I’m thirteen. I know very well what you mean every time you open your mouth."

  "Sir, with all due respect… while you have improved the lives of the circuitists in this nation, you have made us look weak in the face of the guildist enemies."

  "That’s true," another senator interjected, standing up. "What do you have to say about the recent crimes in Latin America and Europe? Circuitists have been dying."

  "Though I mourn those deaths, it is not the guilds’ fault. And let’s not forget that those enemies were provoked by you, Mr. Jorge Tenembaum."

  "The guilds don’t matter to us! Our people do!" someone shouted from the stands.

  "To whoever said that, congratulations. Adolf Hitler would be proud of you."

  "They tried to steal our sacred writings! The culprit deserves to rot in prison!"

  "Mr. Edward Nosford, I’m astonished that a thirty-two-year-old man can say something so idiotic. Two people attempted to steal the papers, and one was captured. The ideal course of action would be to interrogate them before letting them rot behind bars, Senator."

  "President Esteban, the Triumvirate has been abusing its power lately with the council and congressional members. What does such impertinence in professional conduct mean?"

  "Well now, Senator Amanda Juanés, I wasn’t aware that asking questions was considered an abuse of authority. The Triumvirate exists to protect the people. It’s unfortunate that only a few actually do. I know that many of you sitting here are conspiring to remove me."

  The congress hall filled with murmurs and shouts.

  "You’ve made some strong statements, Mr. Esteban."

  Fernán glanced at Esteban with concern, but his friend’s face remained unreadable.

  "Esteban must have lost his mind. How could he say something like that?" Dylan exclaimed, agitated.

  Patrick watched Esteban with his arms crossed.

  "Mr. Bonaparte."

  Esteban turned toward the stands, from where the voice had come.

  "Do you have any evidence to support such an accusation?" Póker asked, his tone wary.

  "No."

  "Then why—?"

  "And do you?" Esteban cut in. "Do you have proof that the guilds have been behind these massacres against our brothers and sisters?"

  Silence fell over the chamber.

  "I thought this would be an important discussion, but no. You just keep repeating the same nonsense. What a shame."

  He stood up and left the hall.

  "Fools," Esteban muttered as he shut the doors behind him.

  "The president has left the room."

  The Triumvirate watched him go.

  "Where is he going?" Charlotte asked.

  "That was incredibly childish. I understand he recently lost a loved one, but that’s no excuse to act like an idiot," Dylan remarked.

  "Shut up. The session is still in progress."

  "But we could just leave."

  "Dylan, shut up and pay attention."

  Addel was waiting for him.

  "Esteban."

  "We’re leaving," he ordered, still furious, not stopping for a second.

  "Yes, but… where to?"

  "To interrogate Guz."

  "But, sir, he’s already being questioned."

  "I’m tired of going easy on murderers."

  "Sir…"

  Esteban marched toward the prison, his rage barely contained. He felt an intense fury burning inside him—once again, the council had disappointed him. Once again, they were willing to debate war with the guilds as if it were just another topic on the agenda.

  "Damn you, Candado Barret," he muttered in disgust.

  He arrived at the interrogation room where the prisoner, Guz, was being questioned by two adult Eraser officers.

  "Mr. Esteban," one of the officers greeted.

  "Leave."

  "But we haven’t finished—"

  "That’s an official order. Leave."

  The officers bowed their heads and exited the room.

  "You too, Addel."

  "But—"

  "Please."

  Addel sighed and stepped out, closing the door gently behind him.

  "Alright, Guz."

  Esteban adjusted his tie and cracked his knuckles.

  "How do you want to do this?"

  Guz sat on a chair, his hands shackled with chains of an intense red hue.

  "I’ve already said everything I had to say."

  "Oh! Would you mind saying it again, just for me?"

  "I told you—I needed that manuscript to sell it. I needed the money to rebuild my life outside of Tanacia."

  Esteban let out a sharp laugh.

  "Oh, yes, yes! A new life."

  With a single strike, he slammed the table with one hand and grabbed Guz by the chest with the other. A massive electric surge coursed through Guz’s body, making him scream in agony. His piercing wail echoed through the room. Outside the door, Addel clenched his fist in frustration.

  The attack ceased, but the remnants of pain lingered in the air. Guz gasped behind his wooden mask.

  "I’m not playing, Pharmagea. Where are Tiat’s writings?"

  "I already told you."

  Esteban sighed and electrocuted him again. This time, the shock was even stronger. His indifference to the suffering he was inflicting was clear.

  "Now, Pharmagea, do you feel like talking?"

  Guz whimpered but said nothing.

  Esteban stopped and clicked his tongue.

  "Damn it…"

  Guz panted, blood beginning to seep from his mouth, staining the inside of his mask.

  "Tell me. Where are Tiat’s writings?" Esteban demanded.

  "I don’t know. I don’t have them."

  Esteban smiled.

  "Really?" He placed both hands on the prisoner’s chest. "You’d better start talking."

  "I don’t—"

  A new burst of electricity tore through Guz’s body with even greater intensity.

  "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" His scream reverberated through the room.

  Esteban stopped.

  "Where are they?"

  Guz lifted his head, barely able to hold himself upright in the chair.

  "You’re pathetic, Esteban," he spat, blood dripping inside his mask. "You will never be a worthy leader of Tanacia. A weakling who was broken by a monster of great power… pitiful."

  A crackling bolt of electricity coursed through Guz once more.

  "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

  "And this is coming from a filthy witness," Esteban sneered. "An assassin’s lodge with no morals, spreading chaos in Buenos Aires. And to top it all off, you—a member of the Pharmagea tribe—allying yourself with those lunatics. A true disgrace."

  "I am no longer a Pharmagea."

  "And yet, you still wear their masks." Esteban raised a hand, touching the edge of Guz’s mask.

  "I suggest you move your hand away from there."

  "Oh? And what will happen if I don’t?"

  "You won’t like what you see."

  Esteban frowned.

  "I’d rather not vomit," he muttered, pulling his hand back.

  And then, another surge of electricity ripped through Guz’s body.

  "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

  "Enough."

  Esteban turned sharply.

  Patrick stood in the doorway.

  "Torture? Seriously?" he asked sternly.

  Guz lifted his head, exhausted.

  "If you don't mind, Mr. Hermes, I'd ask you to leave," he said weakly.

  "It doesn't work that way, Mr. President," Patrick replied firmly. "The Triumvirate handles this, not you."

  "I said that—"

  "And I'm telling you to leave. Torture is not welcome in my jurisdiction."

  Esteban fell silent for a moment. His fists clenched in barely contained fury but then relaxed.

  "Do as you wish."

  With those final words, he left the room.

  Addel watched him go.

  "Sir, what should I do?" he asked, addressing Patrick.

  "Send a notice to all the Erasers. Have them catch the culprit and retrieve those papers."

  Meanwhile, Patrick closed the door, straightened the table, and unlocked Guz's restraints.

  "I apologize for the treatment you've received at the hands of the state."

  Guz smirked sarcastically.

  "It was Esteban."

  "It was President Esteban," Patrick corrected before sitting down across from him. "Now we can talk in peace."

  Guz massaged his sore wrists.

  "Don't bother. I won’t be able to leave here as long as I have this collar on."

  "I figured as much, Pharmagea," Patrick said.

  "Fine, I'll get straight to the point. Where is your partner?"

  "Sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "I understand, and I'm sorry, but lying to me won’t help you."

  Patrick pulled out a notebook and pen.

  "Take your time. We can be here all day if necessary."

  Guz let out a dry laugh.

  "You're very gentle compared to what you did to me before."

  "I was just doing my job."

  "Of course. That’s what they all say."

  "No. That’s what I say."

  "Hah. A serious guy."

  Patrick ignored the remark.

  "I'll rephrase the question. What do you want the Tiat writings for?"

  Guz leaned back in his chair with a casual air.

  "That, I can answer," he said. "They're to get rid of Candado."

  Patrick nodded slowly.

  "I see. Important documents used the wrong way."

  "That's all we want. Our target was Esteban. Now it's Candado."

  Patrick narrowed his eyes.

  "I see. But using a nuclear bomb on just one man seems like a ridiculous waste."

  Guz frowned.

  "What do you mean?"

  "The Tiat writings. Tell me, what do you think they are?"

  Silence filled the room.

  "...I don’t know," Guz finally admitted. "All I know is that it’s a scroll that, when read, increases your spiritual strength—your segalma."

  Patrick sighed.

  "No. They’re not meant for something so childish."

  Guz tensed.

  "Seems like not everyone knows their true potential," Patrick continued. "Or how dangerous they are."

  Guz eyed him warily.

  "As long as it lets us defeat Candado Barret, we don’t care."

  Patrick regarded him seriously.

  "Using Thanatos to fight Candado is absurd."

  Guz's eyes widened.

  "...! Wait, what did you say?"

  "I said using Thanatos’ power to defeat Candado is absurd."

  Guz turned pale.

  "Thanatos! That Thanatos?! What does he have to do with this?"

  "You really are ignorant, aren’t you? The Tiat writings exist to break Thanatos’ prison."

  Guz furrowed his brow, shaken by the revelation.

  "This has to be a mistake…"

  "It’s not," Patrick said firmly. "The purpose of those writings is to bring Thanatos back."

  Guz clenched his jaw.

  "Then tell me… Why did you keep such dangerous documents here?"

  "It’s simple," Patrick replied, crossing his arms. "They’re indestructible. And until now, only ten people knew they even existed."

  Guz leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

  "Desza…"

  Patrick’s hand froze mid-motion at the mention of that name.

  "Desza… The guild senator?"

  Guz closed his eyes in exhaustion.

  "This can't be true…"

  Patrick stood up, locked the cuffs back on Guz, and headed for the exit.

  "Thank you, Mr. Guz. Now we have another lead. I’ll return later to continue the interrogation."

  Without another word, he stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him. Guz remained silent for a few seconds before murmuring to himself:

  "Desza… Have you lied to me?"