Beneath Zalcien was another place, a parallel world born in the ruins of the city's past from an archaeologist's curiosity and criminals searching for a place to hide. This place, of course, was the Sunken City. In one of its less populated areas, below the slums that plagued the upper world, was a tower of stone. The small tower of cobblestone was topped by a pointed roof of purple tiles, from which escaped a small iron tube chimney that constantly released pink fumes.

In his laboratory - a small room filled with strange instruments, candles burning with oddly colored flames, and countless bowls filled with materials attached to chains dangling from the ceiling - Mesker Duskenfer was carefully handling a flask filled with a dark red liquid, doing his best to ensure a small trickle of it poured into the Erlenmeyer in his other blackened hand, one of his golden eyes closed to put as much focus as possible into the other one. Once he was satisfied with the amount he had transferred, the demonologist put down the two containers on the table in front of him, and he couldn't stop himself from releasing a small sigh of relief. Talented as he was the pyromancer was no alchemist, and the handling of magical substances like hydra blood always had its risks. in this specific case, the risk was not only wasting the incredibly precious liquid with outstanding regenerative properties, for a single drop of it could have incredible effects on living things depending on their biology and sheer random chance. Mesker shuddered as he thought back to that car-sized spider he had to deal with after spilling some of the blood during his first experiments. Sadly, his laboratory contained far too many precious and unstable items for him to burn down the blanket of spider web the arachnid had had the time to make. On the plus side, he made a pretty penny selling the body to Motiro and the webs to a clothmaker acquaintance of his.

Meskr thought back to the reason why he had this blood in the first place - his scrying, his deal with Motiro the beast, his meeting with... Silhouette.

Of course, thinking about Silhouette made him recall the creature's fight with the demon ambassador hidden in that abandoned house. Or, to be more specific, the demon that had been sealed in that house before the fall of the old Zalcien, and therefore had been kept weak for over a century. Oh, the demon was indeed slightly stronger than the average citizen of his realm, but that slight advantage and any training it may have gone through had been rendered null by its time in captivity. Had the worst come to happen, Mesker would have been able to banish it without any preemptively made rituals or any of his special tools, but the fact a man with no knowledge as to techniques used to counter a demon's natural defenses and who was obviously fighting such a creature for the first time had managed to not only defeat the beast but also permanently kill it... Frankly, the old scholar empathized with the monk who had been tasked with keeping an eye on the demon, and who had been more than shaken after the fight. Had Silhouette used some kind of overwhelming power like Sunburn was used to then the situation would have made some sort of sense, but as mighty as his magic was it was still simple and something the demon should have been able to handle.

Mesker chased away these thoughts, he was no hypocrite and would follow the advice he had given that monk: stay out of people's business. If they're not demons or actively attacking him, then there's no reason for him to get involved.

Suddenly something began to glow behind Mesker, and although he prepared a small fireball in his hand the pyromancer recognized that specific cyan light, and as he turned and his red robes with violet flames embroidered wooshed in the air, he let his barebone spell fade away as his eyes fell on a small crystal ball placed between other trinkets on the table behind him. The orb wasn't as big as the standard fare, whereas others of its types ranged in size from a cantaloupe to a human head, his ball was closer to an apple. The sphere was too small to handle the magic necessary to transmit images, but it made it easier to transport.

Mesker walked to the table and picked up the crystal ball with one of his blackened hands, raising it roughly to his chin, with some distance between it and his thin face - he may not receive visuals on his end, but his caller would, and he doubted they'd want to see the old man's tan wrinkly skin with too much detail. With a flex of his magic, the orb of magical glass turned from cyan to gold, and the pyromancer began to speak.

"Mesker Duskenfer speaking. Who is this?"

"Master Duskenfer, it is a pleasure to hear you again."

Mesker narrowed his golden eyes. He dealt with enough snakes giving him pompous titles in hopes of soothing his ego for their voices to merge in his mind, but this one he recognized for its owner was a rather singular case.

"Runar Arthen. What do you want from me? Is this about recruiting me to spy on your organization again? I already told you no."

"Please, Master Duskenfer, simply call me Runar."

It was in cases like this one the scholar was glad he was so experienced with demons. Dealing with entities whose whole shtick is their ability to make deals and their attempts at fooling mortals gave him an impressive poker face, one that was perfect to hide the small amount of glee addressing the disowned noble by his family's name. If he wanted to play the name game, Mesker would play along.

"You haven't answered my question, Arthen."

The demonologist could easily picture the way the runemaster's face twitched at that, but much like every other snake trying to get something from him, he valued Mesker's help too much to correct him.

"My men have come across a creature, a powerful entity, and one of my elites has assured me it had demonic energies. I sent a few more to verify the claim of course and had them test the areas where it dared to attack us. I can send you these tests if you wish, but you can already guess the results."

Mesker began to caress his wick-like beard.

"You want me to get rid of a demonic creature. Are you certain it is not protected?"

"The Black came to interfere in one of our capture attempts, my men had been overzealous and got too close to his bank. I received fines, but at no point in the paperwork did it state that the creature was off-limits."

Yes, it made sense that in the area, the only authority his many contracts would recognize would be the Black family. At worst, since it was merely a demonic creature and not a full demon, the consequences of attacking a protected entity would be bearable. His contracts were harsh, but the rules he had to follow were clear.

"You said capture attempts, correct? So you want the creature alive. Is there anything more you can tell me about it? The more I know, the easier it will be for me to prepare, and the less you'll have to pay."

"Why, yes. It is a master of shadows, a shapeshifter limited by its monochrome nature. It is powerful and sapient, and it has shown it could use magic. Shadow bolts, spikes, something some of my men described as an energy black hole, and it... For lack of a better term... Showed proficiency in overtaking others' spells. Nothing to the level of robbing a spell from a mage's hand as they were casting, but it has on more than one occasion slipped its way through our shields."

This... This description sounded eerily similar to someone he knew. Someone he just reminded himself not to think about too much, someone who had recently become his neighbor, and most importantly someone he knew for a fact wasn't truly a demon or a demonic beast.

"You wouldn't happen to know its name, would you? This sort of thing is really important. Much like the Fair Folk, demons place great importance on names and titles. This could mean the difference between rendering it harmless with a finger snap and it tearing your forces apart when it should have been turned loyal."

A small benign exaggeration. Demon names were truly important, but they were not as powerful as a fae's. This was especially true of demonic beasts, who were essentially mundane creatures filled with demonic energies rather than true children of chaos. Knowing such an entity's name was no better than knowing a human's, but luckily for Mesker and his fellow exorcists, that wasn't the sort of information easily accessible even to great magic experts. And knowing snakes like Runar, the man would do anything to attain his goals, including telling the demonologist more than he planned to.

"The entity refers to itself as Silhouette. From what we've learned, it has amassed a small group of followers, cultists perhaps. It runs the risk of growing its influence and overtaking my part of the slums, and I doubt the Black Bank will act if it doesn't attack them."

Mesker grumbled as he pretended to think about the runemaster's offer, for he knew that outright refusing would clue him in that the pyromancer knew about Silhouette than he let on.

"A creature like the one you describe sounds mighty. It may take some time and a lot of resources for me to gather the materials required for the right ritual. And if it is as disruptive as you claim, I have no doubt other exorcists have noticed the commotion and are already planning to deal with the problem, meaning they may kill it before we can capture it. Give me a few days to think about your proposal. Perhaps use that time to get your hands on some of the materials I or any other exorcist may need, they should prove useful."

Just because Mesker had no intention to take the contract didn't mean he wouldn't teach his would-be manipulator a lesson.

"Would you happen to have a list?"

It was truly challenging to hold back that smirk.

Later, after a long conversation involving the many materials that could be genuinely useful to take down a shadow demon - to not tick off any potential exorcist consultant Runar got his hands on - but also could be used in various rituals and experiments Mesker just so happened to be interested in, Mesker put an end to his communication with the runemaster, and added a small hex on his crystal ball, just in case Runar had the rich idea to try and use it without Mesker knowing so. If he wanted to spy on the pyromancer, the Arthen would need to send his best element instead of relying on cheap tricks.

Mesker cast a small stealth spell, just in case, before leaving his tower. His specialties were demonology and pyromancy, and although neither field of magic seemed useful outside of specific situations, all it took was the right mindset and experimentation to get some more mundane tricks out of those fields. Case in point, his stealth spell, which mixed the illusions of heat, the clouding of smoke, and some other minor aspects he dabbled in, and one of his favorite tricks, his pseudo-teleportation spell.

An ember flew through the air until it landed not far from a large building that used to be an orphanage in what felt like an eternity ago, and in a burst of flames, Mesker was there, facing the entrance of his latest's neighbor base. He might have been a holder of the Transformation Aspect, but Silhouette was first and foremost a fair man who, so far, always held his end of a deal. He had proven himself to be a very good client too, and hopefully, he would be one again.

Mesker noted that the iron gate in front of the orphanage opened itself, and he mused on the surprisingly peaceful cohabitation between the haunted building's new living residents and its spirits. He walked up to the entrance and began to knock on the black wooden door with one of his hands darkened by magic, and he wondered if perhaps he should start wearing gloves. If Silhouette were to become any more influent, it wouldn't do for people to think he was partially corrupted.

The door opened, and on the other side was one of those strange people in improvised combat gear, upgraded in some spots by plastic and metal parts. What was their name again? The Shadow Commando?

"Salutations, young one. I am Mesker Duskenfer the Fourth, and I believe I have some information your employer may be interested in."