NORTH CALUM
VEILBREAKERS NEST
A call abruptly jolted Grovan from his sleep, causing him to groggily sit up. He checked the time and glanced at the caller ID before begrudgingly answering the phone. “Keiro? Why are you calling at this ungodly hour?”
“Sorry, but I’m with someone. Can you please call Cresson and tell him to meet us at our hideout immediately?”
Still half-asleep, Grovan rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn. “What’s going on? Why is it so urgent?”
“This person I’m with is in danger. His life is at stake.”
Wide-eyed and now fully awake, Grovan agreed to help and promptly ended the call to dial Cresson’s number. After a few failed attempts, he finally picked up.
“We need you. Come here ASAP.”
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Around 2:30 AM, Keiro arrived with a stranger who appeared to be in critical condition. The man’s skin was pale, almost resembling a corpse, and he was gasping for breath.
“You shouldn’t have come. It’s almost time for me, and you’ve ruined my opportunity,” the man said faintly, and then he collapsed.
As Keiro and Grovan rushed to his side, they watched in astonishment as his pale skin gradually turned purple and began to shimmer with a subtle glitter. His short blond hair grew longer and turned black; his body transformed into a long and slender form. The man had completely metamorphosed into another creature.
“What the heck is this?” Grovan scoffed. He crouched down and checked the creature’s pulse. “It’s still alive. Is it an alien?”
Keiro shrugged. “I have no idea. But I think I’m onto something.” He sighed. “Why isn’t Cress here yet?”
“I heard my name. What’s going on?” Cresson’s voice chimed in, coming from the door, still dressed in his black pajamas. He had a stethoscope draped around his neck and held a medical briefcase in his hand. He quickly descended the stairs and approached them. His forehead creased as he caught sight of the purple creature. “What is that?”
“This creature was once a man,” Grovan answered.
“That’s right. And I think this creature is of the same kind as the President,” Keiro added.
Grovan and Cresson reacted simultaneously. “What do you mean?”
“Just like the President, this creature also has an allergic reaction to my perfume. They both cannot tolerate the scent.”
Grovan made a face of disgust. “Just so you know, Kei, even we don’t like your perfume. It smells like a sick grandpa.”
“How dare you compare my perfume to an ointment? Did you know that my perfume has the highest ratings among all others?”
“Highest ratings?” Cresson asked, raising an eyebrow.
Keiro nodded confidently. “Yes, it’s the only fragrance that received one star!”
Grovan burst into laughter. “Don’t tell me you thought having a one-star rating means it’s the best?”
“Isn’t it?”
Cresson joined in the laughter, unable to contain himself. “Keiro . . . one star actually means it’s the worst,” he clarified, speaking in a measured tone.
Suddenly, their attention was drawn to the creature who regained consciousness, though still gasping for breath. He crawled over to the boxes placed in the corner, which took up almost the entire space of the basement. Strangely enough, as he reached the boxes, his breathing started to stabilize.
“What happened to me? They didn’t inform me about this side effect!” he grunted, his eyes bulging out like those in cartoons. Then, he turned his gaze to the Veilbreakers. “What is in these boxes behind me? How did you acquire them? And who are you?”
“What’s with those unsettlingly large purple eyes? They almost seem like they’re about to pop out like a pug!” Grovan exclaimed. “You must be an alien, right?”
Keiro and Cresson exchanged puzzled glances and looked at the creature, unsure of how to respond.
“I recognize this scent! It’s Elthier! I know it because it’s our lifeline!” the creature exclaimed. He stood up, ready to open the boxes, but Keiro swiftly used his strings to prevent him.
“Don’t touch anything here.” However, to their surprise, his strings suddenly snapped, rendering his power useless. He attempted to activate his power again, closing and opening his hands, but to no avail. “So, those boxes really do contain Elthier, huh? No problem, I can handle you with my combat skills.”
The creature raised his hands in surrender. “I won’t fight back. I’ll do whatever you say, just spare me and allow me to stay close to the Elthiers.”
The Veilbreakers agreed to his request. They began to interrogate him, eager to learn about his origin and purpose on Earth.
“I am Garo Lat, an Arcanian from the Arcane Cosmos, more specifically from Planet Arcanum. Our primary objective is to locate the descendants of the Lennox Family.”
Keiro and Cresson exchanged bewildered glances. A moment of silence hung in the air before Keiro broke it with a question, “When you say our, does that mean there are many of you? How many have been dispatched for this mission?”
“I don’t have an exact number, but I would estimate that there are approximately a million of us per country. But, here in Ranace, I believe there are around two million. Also, we weren’t all deployed at once; we were sent out in batches.”
The Veilbreakers were shocked by the staggering number. Ranace had a population of approximately four million, so if Arcanians had infiltrated the country, it meant that half of the population were Arcanians disguised as humans. This was a concerning situation, as it implied that if more Arcanians were to invade Ranace, the true citizens would be gradually replaced by them.
Cresson, with a serious tone, questioned, “Why is it necessary to search for them to such an extent that millions of you have been sent out?”
“I don’t know. We were simply given orders to locate them and bring them back to our planet.”
“All right, let’s assume you’re telling the truth. But why were you attempting to kill that person earlier?” Keiro asked.
Garo Lat hesitated before finally revealing, “It’s the only way for us to survive. Without Elthier or a human sacrifice, we cannot sustain ourselves.”
Grovan scoffed. “So, you’re saying that for you to survive, someone must be sacrificed?”
“Yes.”
“So, when you mentioned that it was almost your time, you meant your time to die? And the opportunity you were referring to was killing that man to steal his identity?” Keiro asked to confirm; Garo Lat nodded in response. “It all makes sense now. Bernard Dale is an Arcanian. He’s an impostor.”
“That means the real President is already dead. But how is the impostor able to imitate everything about him?” Cresson asked, puzzled.
“Because when we kill humans to steal their identity, we also absorb their memories.”
“I see. . . . Thank you for sharing that information. One more thing, to understand why you’re allergic to menthol, I need to take a sample of your blood. Can I proceed with that?”
Garo Lat agreed and extended his arm, allowing Cresson to inject the needle and draw his purple blood into the syringe.