While James and Vance slept, James' father Nathaniel had something important to tend to.

By the time Nathaniel had spoken to Vance, it was already late. Now, he was up against the clock. He was delivered by personal carriage to their families exhibition building. It was a small, two-story building constructed mostly of stone.

A large wooden sign hung above the entrance. The words "McKinley's vault" were burned into the wood in beautiful calligraphy.

Before he left, Nathaniel sent runners to gather some acquaintances of his. If his theory held credence, he would want their help as soon as possible.

As soon as Nathaniel laid eyes on them, he knew something was wrong. He immediately sent his carriage driver to fetch the city guards.

He stared at the scene before him. The two guardsmen that watched the entrance of the exhibit at night were standing in their usual positions, though they were unresponsive when Nathaniel called out to them. Nathaniel approached but maintained a safe distance. He wanted to get a look at their eyes.

He got close enough that his raised lantern allowed him to see into the face of the closer of the two guards. The man's eyes were wrong. They were a strange mixture of purple and black. It was as if paint were mixing in his eyes, constantly flowing in unrecognisable patterns. There were no pupils to speak of.

Nathaniel recognised the terrible effects of dark mana. Humans couldn't use dark mana, which gave him a pretty good idea of what did this.

In truth, the term "dark mana" was a colloquialism. Thus far, nobody had really come up with a proper classification for the mana found in the bodies of demons. The name came about because of its appearance and weakness to the light.

This man, Francis, was probably trapped in some horrific nightmare. It was the greatest joy of demons to place their victims into endless, torment ridden dreams. Eventually, the demon might grow bored and kill them but it was never certain.

This particular sort of pain-inducing illusion was one of many mind-altering tricks employed in their ineffable purpose. The poor man was shaking almost imperceptibly. That was good, it meant he was still resisting.

Nathaniel had never been fortunate enough to create a light mana core, but he did know how to perform a passable shift.

As quickly as he could, he placed the lantern on the ground and focused on the light cast from it. It was not without reason that Light mana was largely considered one of the hardest shifts. Like many of the older vereecian nobility, he'd been an Arcanist for a long time but it still took him a handful of seconds and a considerable amount of willpower to complete the shift.

Once he'd gathered enough light mana, he quickly raised his palm to Francis' shivering face. He rested a palm on his temple and forced the light mana through his membrane, into his head. More specifically, his brain.

He watched as the light mana combated the darkness, purging it from Francis' body. Moments later, his natural defences purged the remaining, non-hostile light mana. Slowly, Francis' eyes turned back to normal. Blinking, he fell to his knees, head slumped. Then, he began to weep quietly.

There was nothing in this life that Nathaniel despised more than demons. He approached the other guardsman while the first was still recovering, he discovered that this man had it worse.

Not only had he been placed into a trance like his colleague, but he had also been scratched across the chest by the demon's claws. It'd torn straight through his leathers. A scratch like that would hurt long after it healed and much more than any ordinary cutting wound. Demons were perfectly biologically engineered to inflict maximum harm on their victims in every possible way, this was one of those ways.

Nathaniel had experienced this first-hand. He knew there was only one way he could help this man for the time being. He called forth more light mana, purged the illusion from his mind. Then, using a practised pulse of pure, condensed ambient mana, he sent the man's system into shock. The guardsman slumped unconscious a moment later. A useful trick for those who hadn't opened their will.

"Francis, I need you to get him out of here. He's hurt and needs a doctor. Painkillers, specifically. Can you do that for me, Francis?" Nathaniel spoke to the guard who was weeping. He'd always found that using the name of someone afflicted by a demon's illusions would help ease them back into reality. Giving him something else to focus on would probably help, too.

After a moment of silence that was too long for someone sound of mind, Francis replied.

"Yes, Sir. I think so."

"Good, get to it."

Nathaniel did want to question the man, but chances were that Francis had just watched the very demon Nathaniel wanted to ask about ripping his guts out on repeat for a few hours. Best not to cause the man any more psychological harm. He did have to ask just one question, though.

"How many, Francis? How many came?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. I don't remember. I think I only saw one." Francis replied as he lifted the wounded soldier and began dragging him away. Nathaniel could tell Francis was actively trying to fight back more tears. He was doing an impressive job, most were still mostly unresponsive at this point.

Nathaniel briefly stopped outside. He examined the doorway where the guards were stationed. The door was broken inwards. Blood spattered wooden splinters covered the dark, interior hallway.

"Damnit," He mumbled to himself, a stern expression plastered on his face.

He looked at the shattered wood fragments and the complex arcane constructs within. It'd taken him months of trial and error to come up with warding constructs that would prevent the passage of demons. He needed to make sure he had a way to disable the ward in case anything ever went wrong with the constructs and they started warding off people. It was the sort of thing you did with any advanced ward as they were more prone to natural decay.

So, he'd used his blood as a wardkey. At the time, it seemed like an excellent plan. He was the only one with his blood, after all. Plus, he'd likely know the moment somebody took any of it.

Unfortunately for him, it would seem that his son's blood was a close enough match. Nathaniel felt so stupid. That should've been obvious, but he'd made this ward before James had been born. He'd never considered it a real possibility until tonight.

Now, he could only rely on the other precautions he'd put in place.

He had no idea whether the demon was still here. He wanted to wait for his backup to arrive, but he knew that Niall could still be somewhere inside. He didn't want to wait, doing so could subject his nephew to any manner of horrific torment.

If he could prevent it, he would not allow the demon to have its way. He stepped inside. As he did, he stretched out his hand and shifted a large amount of metallic mana, compressing it, then solidifying it in place. It wouldn't last long, but he conjured a sword for himself from thin air. Then, he called upon his fire core and caused the blade to ignite.

Flaming sword in hand, he pressed on.

Nathaniel had two cores. Fire and water. The latter was largely useless against demons, but the fire would hold up nicely. He felt confident. His time spent hunting creature of the night in service to the empire left him well prepared for confrontations like this. Even if he was outnumbered, he liked his chances. In a worst-case scenario, he'd be able to get away.

Alongside his confidence, he felt truly vexed. He was beyond irritated that a demon was walking free throughout the city without him knowing.

He shifted a small amount of additional light mana and sent it spiralling through his body using transference. A small precaution against demons to protect him if he should fall victim to a dark mana assault.

He wondered what signs he may have missed in the weeks prior while he was making his way through the lower floor. He kept his body and will coiled tightly like a spring, ready to act at the slightest indication of the demon's presence.

The insides of the place were trashed. Today, his family had lost many priceless historical artefacts. To Nathaniel, it did not matter much. He would trade them all to rid the world of a single demon. Pieces of smashed glass crunched under his boots as he glanced into a shattered mirror in one of the downstairs exhibition rooms.

He was making his way towards a specific point on the lower floor, towards the back, where he kept his greatest exhibition piece of all.

It was a portion of the skeleton of the greater demon known as Vesiliant. The destruction of Vesiliant was the greatest achievement he and his team had achieved during their service years.

When he arrived, he found that the various arcane constructs he'd erected in the larger exhibition room had been utterly obliterated. When he saw that the skeleton was missing in its entirety, his heart sank. Ordinarily, it was suspended off the ground, hanging in the centre of the chamber from thick cables attached to the ceiling. Those cables had been snapped and there was clear damage to the ground where the skeleton had clearly landed with a heavy impact.

The array of different constructs in this room should have been enough to at least make a fuss. Especially if it was a demon that triggered them. Instead, there was no sign that his wind walls had erected, nor had the ground been scorched with fire, neither was the room flooded with water. He hadn't even been alerted to the intrusion remotely.

He'd taken every magical precaution at his disposal that he could think of to keep the skeleton observed and protected, but it wasn't enough.

A lesser-known fact about greater demons is that they're capable of reassembling themselves even if they're reduced to dust. It's a lesson that many who kill demons learn the hard way.

Fortunately, there are a few things you can do to make this more process more difficult.

First, you can separate the pieces. He and his team had done exactly that. He held Vesiliant's skeleton, another held his will, another his flesh and lastly, the empire held the heart. Each item was kept huge distances apart.

They'd scattered everything else to dust.

Secondly, and the reason he'd opened this exhibit in the first place, the pieces cannot reassemble themselves while they are being observed. He'd found that the skeleton would remain inactive for longer periods of time when more people observed it, hence the public placement.

Now, it had been stolen. Nathaniel had prepared for this but he'd failed to patch a very important flaw in his security. He felt great shame when he realised he'd grown sloppy in his contentment. The only thing he couldn't figure out was how the demon had passed through his other precautions so easily. His best guess was that the demon had the help of an exceptional Arcanist.

The room was eerily quiet, he was the only one present. The demon must have already left. He carefully searched the building for Niall. He did not find him. He found no traces of blood in Niall's usual haunts, nor at any of the exits.

Nathaniel prayed that Niall had simply gone out for the evening. The alternative was something he didn't want to think about.

Nathaniel left the building and waited outside for his colleagues to arrive. Several people who knew of the importance of the skeleton arrived at the building first, concerned. Nathaniel explained what had happened in careful detail. He was met with a mixture of surprise, outrage and fear. He ordered riders be sent out of town to his old teammates. If there was someone collecting parts of a greater demon, they needed to be more prepared than Nathaniel had been.

When the city watch arrived sometime later, he gave them the more mundane details and directed them to search the premises. They found nothing usable. They began a localised search soon after. Nathaniel was sure they'd find nothing, but he had priorities greater than micromanaging the guardsmen.

Nathaniel approached his carriage, removed the harness on one of the horses and mounted it. He hurried the horse into motion and began riding through the streets towards the city lord's home as quickly as he could.

He'd been piecing things together since he spoke with Vance. Now, he was certain there was at least one demon in the city and he had a pretty good idea where it was hiding.

What concerned him most of all was that it had chosen to reveal itself tonight. If nothing else, this meant that whatever it was planning was almost complete. Otherwise, it wouldn't have acted so brazenly. It would've waited, sown doubt. Regardless of their motives, demons were deceptively cunning, unpredictable and surprisingly resourceful.

If his hunch was right and Leslie Sellanion was truly harbouring a demon, then he had to find her quickly. For that, he would need the city lord's help.