The city's underground sewage system was exactly as the name suggested: a filth-infested den littered with mold, grime, and the sickening smell of rot.
Creatures roamed this filth, but do understand that one does not speak of the creatures that crawl, nor does one speak of creatures that slider or squirm.
What we speak of is a creature that stood on its own two feet, lurking dangerously in the shadows, like a beast.
In an especially shadowed recess of the sewage system, the creature waited—humanoid, hunched, its thick, sinewy limbs radiating a predatory aura, yet it did not hunt.
Rather, it watched, as though entertained by the boundless filth before it, its golden claws shimmering faintly as if poised for revelation.
But it was not alone, rather, it stood with a man or... woman that looked less like a woman and more like an Amazonian, her breath steady, breathing in the disgusting fumes of the underground sewage system.
She sat motionless beside the beast, her eyes a vibrant, glowing red visible in the gloom.
Her once-beautiful robes hung torn and tattered, stained by grime and disgusting filth that she could not begin to identify.
And on her form—on her chest, was a gaping wound, a claw mark that pushed aside flesh and exposed bone.
"Why... why don't you just kill me already?" the woman, short of breath but still filled with vitality, spoke softly.
She spoke as if the beast before her could understand, as if it could answer.
But the beast did not reply, it did not even acknowledge her; rather, it stayed, and waited, and waited, and waited even more before it trembled.
And then it muttered, its voice strangely warped but coherent, "What---intelligence?"
At that question, she chuckled bitterly, followed by a sharp cough, "Haha... and here I thought you would say something ha, d-different." Her eyes dimmed slightly. "I.... I suppose it's... my fault for going after you with my team, who knew you would evolve so quickly."
By the sound of her voice, one could discern that she was fatigued, sick—her condition worsening.
The beast, upon hearing her speak did not react, its form trembling a bit as it asked again, "What is... Intelligence-"
"I don't fucking know man," she snapped suddenly, fury rising from her pain. "You won't fucking understand it if I fucking told you, you're not fucking human."
And yet her words fell upon unfeeling ears.
A moment passed, and the beast trembled again, but this time, when it spoke, the improvement in its voice was undeniable.
"What it is mean to be f-fucking human?" It asked once more, surprising the red-eyed Witch, who with a raised brow turned slightly, truly observing it, and in that moment she felt it.
She was afraid.
Frightened by the intelligence of this Skilion, but she did not show it.
She had followed its trail alongside her companions—E-rank Witches like herself, but they had underestimated it.
It's strength.
It's intelligence.
Her companions were gone now, all killed by this abomination, and yet, after dragging her to this corner of the sewage system, it hadn't finished her off, not even when she begged.
Instead, it watched.
Mimicked.
Learned.
She had tried to lie, to trick it, to escape but Nothing worked.
At first, she had been fearful, but a few days had passed, and no matter how she spoke, it seemed to have no intention of harming her more than it had already done.
And yet it refused to let her leave, sometimes copying her speech to form coherent words.
It seemed to be using her to fill in the blanks of what it already knew.
"What dose it mean to be fucking human?" The beast asked again, smoother this time.
Not wanting to give the beast a reason to turn violent, the red-eyed Witch spoke of the first thing that came to mind without really thinking of the consequences, her eyes still looking for a way to escape.
"Well, first you have to look human, b-but other... Than that there's nothing special about it, we look up to each other, support each other, love each other."
"Love?" The beast asked, before asking again, "What is love?"
"Well, I-I don't know what love is," the red-eyed Witch spoke before saying, "it's when you would do anything for another human, I guess."
"Anything? To any human?" The beast intoned, becoming scarily adept at keeping conversation with each passing moment.
But the red-eyed Witch did not mind; rather, she preferred it as it took her mind off the pain of her infected injury.
Sitting up, she chuckled, not minding the pain it caused her, "haha... I'm not gay, so I like men, now that I think about it what are you? Are you like a man or a woman?"
The beast grew quiet for a moment, in such a way that it seemed to ponder what it was, but then it spoke, and it was not mimicking this time.
"Love is a beautifully engineered delusion—neurotransmitters hijacking logic to serve evolution's goals. It is not profound; merely biological blackmail dressed as poetry."
The string of words that poured out of the beast's mouth shocked the red-eyed Witch, who looked back, "Where did you hear those words?" She asked.
Until now, the red-eyed witch assumed that the words this beast spoke of were words it had heard other humans speak, broken fragments of human language and thought.
But this was different, this wasn't something you'd just hear on the road, this was knowledge, coherent, advanced, and chillingly articulate.
In fact, it was strange, sometimes, this beast would spew out words so humanly complex that it should not be known by any beast, and yet it said it like those memories belonged to it.
Even though Skilion possessed the ability to evolve into intelligent beings, they were still animals until after they had evolved.
"Weren't they?" The red-eyed Witch thought, hoping that she had not discovered something new about the beast they thought they knew all about.
"Where did you hear those words?" She asked again, raising her voice slightly.
To her question, the beast waited for a moment, until it finally spoke, its tone gentle, "I learnt it... from the mind of the human I love."
----------
Meanwhile far from the filth:
"Love? Hell no, I'm not a family man," Sir Smith's voice sounded out, its volume barely above a whisper.
"You don't have to become a family man after falling in love, Smith," Sir Walter added in.
"Would you be serious?" Chief Richard asked grimly as he took a step forward, his hands brandishing his shotgun.
They were in the lobby of a small hotel at the moment. The receptionist watching with winded eyes as police officers stormed into the ten-room hotel.
Chief Richard and the two Wizards were the ones leading this operation, and they attempted to end it fast.
They had shown the receptionist a picture of their target, and upon seeing it, she agreed that a man like that had been here, saying he had lodged in room number 4 a week ago.
According to her, after checking in the first time, she had not seen him again.
He also instructed her never to let housekeeping clean his room saying he loved his privacy.
"Bam!"
Chief Richard kicked open room four violently, shattering the lock. "Get down!" he yelled, sweeping his shotgun across the space.
Unfortunately, there was nobody to heed his words, except Sir Walter and Sir Smith who followed soon after.
"Where is he?" Sir Walter, who looked around, could not help but ask, but there was no response to his words.
Of course, he could tell that there was no one in the room, but with the serious expression on both of his partner's faces, you'd think they knew something he didn't.
The room was not as messy as one would expect of a hotel room that hadn't been cleaned in a week.
Rather, the bed was made nicely, and on top of said bed was a plugged-in laptop which was still turned on.
Plugged into said computer was an old phone connected by USB.
On the screen was an audio tab with lines of code running by it.
Seeing this set-up immediately gave Chief Richard suspicions which he rushed to confirm.
So he tapped play on the computer, and a new tab opened where he was directed to set a timer, so he set it for five seconds.
Then he was directed to type in a number which he did, typing in his own phone number.
One second passed, then five, and like clockwork, the phone on the bed came to life automatically dialing a number, and calling it.
Immediately after, his phone rang, prompting him to pick it up.
Then an audio in Mr. Valen's voice began playing from the computer: [Hey babe... There's something I have to tell you... I love you.]
After the message was done playing, the line cut, and immediately, Chief Richard understood what happened.
"We've been had," Sir Smith muttered.
Even Sir Walter was quick on the uptake, his eyes narrowing to slits as he muttered, "Planning this level of deception is not something a kid like him should be capable of."
"Buzz!"
Suddenly, Chief Richard felt his phone vibrate, and upon looking at the caller ID, he noted that it was Detective Harper who was at the other end.
"Chief Richard, you were right again," Detective Harper said immediately after the call was picked up.
Her rushed tone tickled Chief Richard's fancy, so he asked, "What did you find out?"
"We found out that the mall had an entrance to the sewage system that wasn't sealed properly. The K9 unit also seemed to pick up his scent from that area."
"I see," Chief Richard responded with narrowed eyes and muttered, "put a bolo out, all officers on standby should be on alert, I'll give you further instructions soon."
With that, Chief Richard cut the call and looked to his comrades, "This kid is impossible," he muttered.
And yet the evidence was right before them, that they had been playing not just once or twice, but three times.
First at the mall, where he was last seen.
Second at the sock factory.
And now again at this small Hotel where they had been fooled for the third time.
He was buying time, no he had successfully bought time to make his escape.
Mr. Valen had never been here, he might have been here a week ago, but he was no longer here.
But the question remained, if Mr. Valen was not here, where was he?
Where had he hidden?