Grand Ascension-Chapter 85: Who Are You?

In the depth of the night, at the edge of Naija City, where lay a shelter, a squat concrete building, just one story with barred windows and a single flickering sign above the door: HOPE’S REST SHELTER, a man walked.

He walked through the empty parking lot, mostly empty except for the rusted van and a shopping cart that never moved.

He was tired. The past few days had been a lot, the most activities he had to perform in the last few years. He needed rest, which he had not gotten ever since Tuesday morning and today too he had to lose his energy.

Now he had to sleep at Hope Rest Shelter, and he was annoyed by that.

Why do I have to sleep here, what shit luck.

He thought as he slowly crossed the parking lot reaching the building.

It really feels like we are back in the 80s, shit place. Anyways I should hurry up then head back tomorrow.

It was night time. The outside was empty. People were already in the building trying to rest, running away from the cold.

The man stepped to the door his hand stretched, ready to open it.

...rustle... rustle...

He stopped. There was something, a noise, a disturbance. He turned left, then right.

"Who is there?" He asked once.

Silence.

"Who is there?" he asked a second time, this time louder.

Silence.

Maybe I am just tired and paranoid, but what if—

Fwooosh!

As he was having that thought, he heard a sound of someone rushing to him.

"What ar..."

BANG!

Before he could even complete his sentence, he got the air knocked out of him, his body folded in half.

He lost consciousness.

.....

West of Hope Rest Shelter stood an abandoned factory. It had broken windows and was full of graffiti covering the walls. It was quiet. No one adventured themselves in here, after a series of murders had occurred in the past.

Inside the factory, the man who had just been about to enter Hope Rest sat, his hands cuffed, his legs tied, and his eyes covered.

In front of him stood two individuals. They were inspecting him, looking at him and scrutinizing every part of his body.

"Is he the one?" A female voice asked, confused.

"No, it cannot be him, right?" The male spoke, also uncertain. "He is older than our target and he is white. That was not the description we got from the neighbors."

"You are right Bol." Cheryl answered, confirming Bol’s doubts.

Bol and Cheryl had spent their whole week watching the different homeless shelters of Naija City, waiting to see if they were going to capture Makun.

They had waited and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Not even one mystic or rogue practitioner stayed at one of those shelters.

This was to be expected. Most mystics had decent earnings. They would probably not lodge in such areas.

As such, Bol and Cheryl had to leave quite disappointed.

Today in the afternoon, after watching Rest Palace, which was one of the two remaining shelters they had to visit, they headed for Hope Rest Shelter.

Once they reached Hope Rest at 4 pm, they waited for something odd to happen.

They could never have expected Makun to have reached Hope rest shelter early at 3 pm to take a nap.

They had waited and waited from 4 pm and nothing happened.

At some point, they were discouraged. Ever since they started the watch at the different shelters, nothing happened. And very soon, they were going to be contacted to give a report. However, they still had nothing, just the name and some description they got from the neighbors.

When they were close to giving up, and just abandoning, they saw someone approaching Hope Rest Shelter through the parking lot.

What compelled them was not the person, but the fact he was a mystic.

He was a mystic, third grade Initiate, a stable one at that. If he pushed he might just advance to Apprentice.

They knew that they had to make a move.

Even though he looked nothing like the neighbors had described, they had still captured him.

Right now he was in the factory tied and they wondered what to do with him.

"Do you think he knows something?" Cheryl asked. Her usually cheerful appearance had vanished lately. She was scared of the higher ups she had no idea about.

She wanted this mission to be a success.

"Maybe? Remember he went to that seer for readings before, right? He probably is interested in the mystic world." Bol said.

They knew from their interaction with Zuri that last Friday, Makun was not awakened at all. He was just a normal human, a disconnected who was searching for ways to right the wrongs life had brought upon him.

That meant that after Zuri he had been introduced to the mystic world and somehow managed to erase the signature left by the higher ups.

If I was him, I would do everything to learn more and more. That means connecting with rogues, and trading information in return for service with them. Bol deduced.

He was sure Makun had undergone these steps, connecting himself to different practitioners, and exploring the mystic world.

He has probably gotten a potion by now. Maybe he is an Initiate.

Bol deduced, never imagining that in less than a week, Makun could go from Initiate to Apprentice.

"Wake him up. Only way to know is to question him." He ordered Cheryl, who nodded.

Contrary to what one might have expected to happen, instead of throwing water, using electricity or torture to wake him up, Cheryl slowly walked to the man and grabbed his head and pulled hard.

"ARGGHHH" He woke up to the pain of his hair being torn apart.

Blood dripped from his head as his vision cleared just enough to see the scene in front of him.

The scene of Cheryl inserting his hair into a porcelain doll.

"What are you doing?" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

He spoke the only words he could before being surrounded by eerie dark energy. He was under the suppression of Cheryl who had imposed her intent through her doll.

The man lost control of himself.

Different from Zorak who was a difficult target for Cheryl because they were of a similar tier and grade, this man was quite easy. She could make him speak to some extent.

"Who are you?" Cheryl asked.

The man looked forward, his gaze absent-minded, his mouth slowly opening to speak out his name.

"Mark...Kane." Mark said.