Inside the strange space where the black-robed figures had previously gathered, oil lamps lit up once again.

This time, however, there were only two lamps.

The dim yellow flames flickered inside their glass covers, casting smaller circles of light than usual. Most of the area remained submerged in thick darkness. Two black-robed figures—one tall, one short—stood face to face beneath the lamplight.

Since both parties were very familiar with each other, they wore no hoods. Their faces appeared and disappeared in the shifting firelight.

“Confirmed,” the tall figure spoke. His voice was lower than usual, carrying a faint but detectable suppressed rage. “The one on the sea surface was the Shadow Thief and the Rift Dweller.”

The short figure’s eyelids twitched.

He had already mentally prepared himself when he sensed that terrifying power earlier, but hearing the confirmation still made his breath catch for half a beat.

“The power produced after those two Stranges fused far exceeded expectations.” The tall figure continued, speaking unhurriedly, yet every word seemed to be bitten out through clenched teeth. “We originally thought it would be an ordinary Disaster Grade, but it turned out to be a true Disaster Grade.”

“We had no deployments at that level,” the short figure said.

“We have nothing at that level,” the tall figure corrected him. “Those were the two most core Stranges in our hands. Now they’re gone. No—they were ‘stolen’ by someone else!”

Both men fell silent.

After all, those were Disaster Grade Stranges, and they had once been under their control.

Among commonly seen conventional combat forces, a Disaster Grade Spirit Medium was already an absolute high-level existence. Disaster Grade Spirit Mediums normally would not take action at all.

This was not only because every deployment came at a heavy cost, but also because their destructive power was simply too great once they acted.

It was no exaggeration to say that a Disaster Grade Spirit Medium served as the cornerstone of a city’s existence.

If their organization truly possessed a Disaster Grade Strange, even the Spirit Medium Association would have to acknowledge their legitimate status and might even be willing to assist them in founding a nation!

Yet now, such a tremendous opportunity had slipped right through their fingers!

The oil lamp flame flickered once. The shadows of the two men swayed on the wall.

“This incident has exposed two problems.”

The tall figure calmed his emotions and raised two fingers. Firelight danced at his fingertips.

“First, the location where the fusion erupted was on the sea surface, not on land, and not at any of the possible sites we had anticipated. This shows that the other party had predicted it in advance. After the Shadow Thief was stolen, they began making preparations—possibly even setting up the battlefield ahead of time and waiting for the Rift Dweller to walk right into the trap.” The short figure’s brows furrowed even tighter.

“Second, after the Disaster Grade power erupted, the fused entity vanished without causing any destruction. Up until now, the Spirit Medium Association has not detected any secondary spread of the Strange… What does this mean?”

“It means it was sealed,” the short figure said in a low voice, his tone exceptionally certain. “Or subdued. To achieve such a feat right after a power eruption of that level, it could not have been an impulsive decision.”

“So this entire matter, starting from the capture of the Shadow Thief, was never a coincidence—it was premeditated!” The tall figure clenched his fingers into a fist.

The two exchanged a glance.

They both saw the same thought in each other’s eyes: an internal traitor.

Someone had leaked their most core secrets to a third party.

The Shadow Thief’s location, the Rift Dweller’s characteristics, and even the twin-born relationship between the two Stranges had all been revealed by that person.

Otherwise, it would have been impossible for anyone to complete the full sequence—from capture to fusion to sealing—in such a short time.

“That is why only the two of us are meeting this time.” The short figure glanced around at the empty darkness surrounding them. “From today onward, all offline contact is suspended. Apart from between you and me, no one else’s information can be trusted.”

The tall figure nodded without saying anything more.

His expression appeared even more gloomy in the firelight.

“How long will our life force reserves last?” the short figure asked.

The tall figure’s face grew even uglier.

He did not answer immediately. Instead, he took out a palm-sized stone tablet from inside his black robe.

The tablet was densely engraved with runes, with a thumb-sized dark red crystal embedded in the center.

Inside the crystal, a liquid-like luster flowed slowly, but the liquid level had already dropped to one-third.

“Less than a month,” he said. “At the current rate of consumption, it can last three weeks at most.”

The short figure pressed his lips into a thin line.

“We can only activate the backup plan,” the tall figure said. His voice was calm, as if merely discussing what to have for dinner tonight, yet his deeply sunken eyes held no trace of warmth.

The short figure’s body stiffened slightly.

He raised his head and stared straight at the tall figure’s face, as if checking whether he was joking.

“Are you certain?” His voice was pressed very low. “The technical side isn’t finished yet, right? I saw last month’s report—the stability is still insufficient. The gap between human individual will and the Strange is too large. No matter how many layers of protection we add, the final host will still lose control. What about the latest progress on your side?”

The tall figure did not avoid his gaze.

He took out a black leather notebook from inside his robe. The cover had no text, but the edges were worn white.

He flipped open a page. The firelight clearly illuminated the densely packed handwritten notes.

Formulas, data, experimental records, failure analysis… every page was filled with relevant information. Some places even had additional notes pasted on.

“The technology is indeed not yet complete,” the tall figure admitted. “But we don’t have much time left. The Spirit Medium Association has already begun requesting support. I received internal information that they are seeking aid from the headquarters above, and the headquarters has approved it.” 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

The short figure’s pupils contracted slightly. An ominous premonition rose in his heart.

“Who are they sending?” he asked.

The tall figure closed the notebook and put it back inside his robe.

He raised his head, looked at the short figure, and uttered a single word.

“A… Prophet.”

The short figure’s face turned deathly pale in an instant.

A Prophet.

This was not a nickname, but the official title the Spirit Medium Association headquarters used for Spirit Mediums who possessed fate-type Strange abilities.

Fate-type Stranges in this plane were extremely rare, and those capable of taming and sealing them were even rarer.

Yet every individual granted the title of “Prophet” possessed nearly terrifying foresight.

These were not the mysterious, muttering wizards from fairy tales, but genuine, verifiable “future sight” abilities.

“When that Prophet arrives, my identity will also be exposed,” the tall figure said, his voice even lower.

Neither of them doubted that the Prophet had such capability.

As a senior researcher within the association, the tall figure’s fate line was too closely tied to the association. Any inspection unfavorable to him would create ripples at the fate level; it was only a matter of time before a Prophet detected them.

“Before then,” the tall figure raised his head. A near-mad glint appeared in his eyes. “We must activate the final plan. At all costs.”

The short figure remained silent for a long time.

In the end, he nodded, turned, and left.

The moment his figure stepped out of the oil lamp’s circle of light, it melted into the darkness like a drop of water falling into an ink pool, leaving no trace behind.

Only the tall figure remained, standing between the two oil lamps.

He did not leave the space immediately.

His body paused in place for a few seconds. Then the entire space folded beneath his feet.

The light from the two oil lamps seemed to be crumpled into a ball by an invisible hand, the rays becoming distorted.

When they unfolded again, the tall figure was no longer in the empty hall.

The surrounding environment now resembled a research laboratory.

The space was not large—about fifty or sixty square meters. The walls and ceiling were covered in gray-white metal plates densely engraved with sealing runes. In the center of the floor was a circular array roughly three meters in diameter. The array’s lines appeared to be drawn with some kind of glowing liquid. That liquid emitted a pale blue fluorescence in the darkness, making the entire array look like a moon lying on the ground.

In the center of the array stood a monster.

Its size was similar to the previous shark-like monster, but its form was completely different.

It was a composite entity pieced together from various Strange fragments, possessing no fixed shape.

Its “body” constantly changed. One second it looked like a huge, hairless dog. The next, it transformed into a twisted, multi-limbed insect-like creature. Then it collapsed into a writhing mass of flesh covered in eyes.

Every change was accompanied by sounds like cracking bones—dense and continuous, as if ten thousand dry branches were exploding simultaneously in a single fire.

The tall figure stood at the edge of the array, watching it expressionlessly.

The blue light of the sealing array extended beneath his feet, connecting with the central array to form a closed energy circuit.

He located the control node within the circuit, made a few gestures in the air, and called up the monster’s real-time monitoring data.

Stability: 17%.

Will Synchronization Rate: 8%.

Loss of Control Risk Level: Extremely High.

Estimated Remaining Survival Time: Within 2 hours.

His brows furrowed. He swiped his fingers through the air again and pulled up a more detailed analysis report.

The report showed that the core structure of this fused Strange had already begun an irreversible collapse.

After an initial period of dominance, the human host’s will had rapidly declined and was being devoured by the Strange’s collective consciousness.

The host itself was not even aware it was losing its sense of self; it simply began thinking more and more like a Strange.

Once its mode of thinking fully transformed, the Strange would completely occupy its body.

Then, once the balance between the two was broken, the body would rapidly disintegrate.

Because the essence of a Strange required human spiritual intellect as its soil. Without the restraint of the host’s will, the forcibly fused different Strange fragments would repel and attack one another, ultimately tearing the entire body apart from within.

The tall figure watched the fluctuating data with no change in expression.

Suddenly, the monster in the center of the array let out a miserable howl.

It was a meaningless sound wave mixed from over a dozen different frequencies, driven purely by pain.

The sound wave struck the metal walls and was absorbed by the sealing runes.

Even after most of it was attenuated, the residual waves still caused visible vibrations in the laboratory’s air.

In response, the tall figure expressionlessly manipulated the array and began further experiments on it.

An hour and a half passed quickly. The monster’s corpse before him began to rot.

Its skin cracked and peeled away, revealing pale gray muscle underneath with no trace of blood.

The muscle lost its elasticity within seconds, turning into a loose, fibrous mass.

Then the bones began to snap, breaking one by one like dead twigs.

The entire process lasted half an hour.

A fused Strange that had consumed countless resources and painstaking effort completely collapsed amid endless agony.

The tall figure watched everything with a calm expression.

He walked to the corner and pressed a hidden red button behind one of the metal plates.

The array’s light instantly shifted from blue to blazing white. The temperature skyrocketed to several thousand degrees in an instant, evaporating the rotting flesh, shattered bones, and a layer of metal on the array’s surface into gas.

The ventilation system activated automatically, sucking the toxic gases into the underground purification device.

The sealing array also began to function, re-sealing the Strange power that tried to dissipate.

Moments later, the array returned to its blue glow. The laboratory was spotless, as if nothing had ever existed there.

The tall figure reached out, made a few gestures in the air, called up the destruction log to confirm all hazardous materials had been processed, then closed the control panel.

He sighed.

He felt regret over consuming another batch of valuable experimental materials without obtaining the expected results.

“Experimental subjects are running low again,” he muttered to himself. His voice echoed in the empty laboratory. “I’ll have to find some more.”

He removed his black robe and hung it on a hook in the corner.

His attire beneath the robe was simple: dark gray suit trousers, a white shirt, the cuff buttons fastened meticulously.

He took out a pair of silver-framed glasses from his pocket and put them on.

Under the lenses, his high-cheekboned face unexpectedly gained a scholarly, refined air.

He closed his eyes. With a thought, the space folded beneath his feet once more.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in a bright and cozy lounge.

The walls were a warm beige tone. Soft ceiling lights illuminated the room, and a potted green plant sat on the tea table in the corner.

A full-length mirror leaned against the wall. Its wooden frame was spotlessly clean.

He stood before the mirror, looking at himself inside it.

Victor Raine.

Specially appointed lecturer of the Spirit Medium Association and lead speaker for public lectures on Strange protection common sense.

Specially invited advisor to the Mist Capital Spirit Medium Association and a senior expert in the field of Strange research.

To the public, he was a gentle, knowledgeable, and caring individual who worried about the safety of ordinary citizens.

His lecture tickets always sold out quickly. His books were prominently displayed in bookstores. His reputation within the association was also excellent: pragmatic, efficient, and never one to shirk responsibility.

The face in the mirror wore a smile, appearing quite gentle and trustworthy at first glance—completely different from the cold demeanor he had shown in that strange space earlier.

Victor straightened his collar in the mirror, then turned and pushed open the lounge door.

The corridor outside was long. Wall lamps were spaced every few meters on both sides, their light soft and even, leaving no shadows in the hallway. The floor was paved with light gray non-slip tiles so clean they reflected light.

The air carried a faint scent of disinfectant mixed with a floral air freshener.

At the end of the corridor was a pair of double glass doors. Metal lettering on them read: “Mist Capital Psychiatric Hospital Treatment Center.”

A young woman dressed as a nurse walked briskly from the other end of the corridor, holding a stack of folders.

Seeing Victor, she gave a slight bow, a perfectly measured smile on her face.

“Professor, thank you for your hard work.” The nurse’s voice was clear and polite. “Several new patients arrived today. Their files are all here—please take a look.”

“Thank you for your trouble.”

Victor thanked her casually, took the folder, and opened it.

His fingers were slender. He turned the pages slowly and gently, as if handling a precious ancient book.

First page: a middle-aged man with alcoholism and violent tendencies, sent in by his family.

Second page: a young woman with auditory hallucinations, claiming she could hear people talking inside the walls. After the Spirit Medium Association confirmed it was not Strange-related, she was sent here.

Third page: an elderly man with dementia, unable to find his way, who had gotten lost multiple times.

Fourth page…

Victor’s finger paused.

The photo showed a face with sharp angles. His hair was graying but neatly trimmed, and his eyes were small yet spirited.

Even in a medical record photo—the kind most likely to make someone look bad—those eyes still carried a resolute light.

“This one is…” Victor asked in a casual tone.

The nurse leaned over to look and immediately replied, “Oh, this is a retired member of the Spirit Medium Association. His surname is Collins. He worked field duty for over twenty years in the association and only retired last year. Due to excessive contact with Stranges, he developed some mental issues—mainly insomnia and intermittent mental fog. However, his willpower is very strong, so the problems don’t appear too severe at present.”

“A retired member of the Spirit Medium Association,” Victor repeated, his tone carrying the appropriate amount of respect. “Dedicating over twenty years to this city—it hasn’t been easy.”

“Indeed,” the nurse agreed.

Victor closed the folder, held it against his chest, raised his head, and showed that gentle smile again.

“Then let’s start with a consultation for him,” he said. His voice was not loud, but every word was clear and steady, carrying a reassuring power. “A hero like him deserves our utmost effort to treat.”

“Understood. I’ll arrange it right away.”

The nurse bowed slightly and turned to make the arrangements.

Victor stood in place, watching the nurse’s figure disappear at the end of the corridor.

The gentle smile remained at the corners of his mouth, but the eyes behind his lenses had changed.

“Lucky. To find such good material so quickly.”

A retired member of the Spirit Medium Association.

Over twenty years of field experience.

Strong willpower.

Mild mental issues.

All excellent qualities.

Strong will meant he could endure Strange fusion for a longer period and would not collapse upon first contact like ordinary people. Twenty-plus years of field duty meant his body and mind had undergone rigorous tempering, giving him far greater adaptability than average.

“Mild mental issues” meant his sense of self was still intact but had already been partially eroded by Stranges.

This was actually a positive sign. According to past experimental records, an overly complete self would lower the fusion subject’s vigilance, making it easier for the Strange to devour them during the process.

Moreover, even if a strong-willed person eventually lost control after fusing with a Strange, the experimental data he could provide in the period before losing control would be far more valuable than that from ten ordinary people combined.

As for how much pain he would endure…

That was not a problem.

“All of this… is a necessary sacrifice for humanity’s evolution!”

Victor adjusted his silver-framed glasses, then walked toward the consultation room.