Sebastian's jaw dropped in shock. He had never anticipated that Emma would run into the ritual at precisely that critical moment. Glancing at Charles and Joseph, he saw they were every bit as stunned.
"Emma! How did you get in here?" Joseph asked in a shaky voice.
Tears welled in Emma's eyes. "I… I wanted to see my father…"
Charles felt a pang of pity for the little girl, but pity alone couldn't mask the very real danger of her reckless action. He exchanged worried looks with Joseph and Sebastian—every plan they'd carefully laid was now in jeopardy because of her sudden intrusion.
Charles fixed Emma with a stern gaze. He understood her feelings but realized how risky her choice had been. "Listen, young lady. What you did is incredibly dangerous. I know you want to see your father, but he's… he's not the same person right now. It's very risky if you get too close."
Tears spilled down Emma's cheeks, and she sobbed softly. Joseph rushed to her side and gently patted her head.
"It's all right," Joseph said gently. "We'll help your dad. Just stay behind me, all right? Don't wander off."
Charles let out a resigned sigh and turned to Sebastian.
"Mr. Sebastian—do we have any way to get Emma out of here? I really don't want her stuck inside. It's too dangerous."
Sebastian shook his head, clearly troubled. "I could try repeating the concealment ritual, but given how little time we have, I'm not sure it would work as intended. It might fail entirely."
All three of them exchanged looks. Charles was the first to speak again.
"In that case, we'll have to keep Emma with us. We can't leave her alone, and we certainly can't send her back out. Joseph, stay with her. Sebastian and I will handle the rest."
Joseph nodded and held Emma's hand firmly.
Sebastian pulled out a handkerchief and gave it a sharp snap. In an instant, it transformed into a gleaming sword. Joseph, on the other hand, chose not to manifest a weapon. Since he had to keep Emma close, carrying both a sword and his cane would make it difficult to protect her properly. Charles gripped his revolver with both hands, took a deep breath, and tried to steel himself for the coming battle.
"Stay in a group," Sebastian said firmly. "There's just one enemy here, so splitting up will only expose us to more danger."
Charles led the way, with Joseph guiding Emma in the middle, and Sebastian bringing up the rear with his sword. As they moved through the workshop, Joseph discreetly covered Emma's eyes to spare her from the horrific sight of butchered corpses, especially the remains of her own family, scattered across the blood-soaked floor. Joseph could feel her warm tears trickling onto his hand, and his heart clenched with sympathy for her unimaginable loss.
For Joseph and Sebastian, such gruesome scenes—bloodbath, tragedy, dismembered bodies—were horrible but not unfamiliar. In a world where supernatural powers defied complete understanding, catastrophic incidents happened again and again. That was precisely why the Department of Supernatural Suppression and Defense existed: to watch over, contain, and prevent horrors from spiraling further.
But for Charles, new to the organization, the carnage he now witnessed was beyond anything in his prior experience. Although he had seen death and dealt with corpses in his detective work, he had never encountered something so ruthlessly brutal. One question burned in his mind: he, Joseph, and this carpenter, James, were all Elevation Bearers. Yet Charles and Joseph had not been devoured by their powers—so why had James lost control? The horror before him made Charles deeply aware that this path of "elevating one's existence" could become a terrible downfall. It was never truly safe.
A strange sobbing sound echoed from the back of the workshop—part human cry, part animal wail. It was enough for Emma to recognize her father's voice. She whispered, trembling, "Dad…"
Joseph heard Emma's quiet gasp and addressed her gently, though his tone was serious. "Emma, that sound at the back of the shop—what's behind that room?"
Emma swallowed hard, voice shaking and tears still streaming. "Th-that's… that's my father's workroom. He used it for carving. He'd stay in there for hours, working."
Joseph nodded and patted her head softly. "Thank you for telling me." Then he turned to the others. "That's probably where we'll find him."
Charles and Sebastian nodded in agreement, each gripping their weapons more tightly.
"Joseph," Sebastian cautioned, "keep Emma safe. Don't let her anywhere near the danger."
Joseph acknowledged him, guiding Emma closely at his side. He whispered to her, "Stay by me at all times. If something happens, I'll protect you—but don't wander off."
Emma gave a slight nod, still sobbing quietly but trying her best to hold it in.
They knew they were facing a great threat, and each step they took closer to the workroom made their hearts pound harder. A ragged snarl came from behind the door—pained and animalistic, yet somehow sorrowful.
Charles swallowed and turned to Joseph and Sebastian. "Are you both ready?"
They nodded, faces set with grim resolve.
"Then let's do this."
Charles lifted his revolver, pressing it close to his shoulder as he led the way into the room without hesitation.
The interior of James's workroom was cluttered with woodworking tools, wood shavings, and half-finished carvings. The smell of lumber and polish hung in the air, and the walls were lined with beautiful carvings—testament to a craftsman's passion for art. By the far table, a man sat hunched with his back turned to the door. His features were a disturbing blend of human and beast, a body twisted and broken. From his trembling throat emerged a sound that was both a human sob and an animal growl.
James was fighting desperately to keep his sanity, to hold back the murderous instincts that threatened to consume him. His body was covered in wounds from what seemed to be repeated attempts at self-harm—perhaps out of a wish to die rather than remain a monster. Yet those injuries hadn't reduced his monstrous craving; if anything, they fueled an even darker madness. Now he sat there, waiting for someone—anyone—to end it all for him.
Charles stepped forward, with Joseph guiding Emma behind him, and Sebastian entering last, sword in hand. They moved carefully, hoping not to provoke him. But James sensed their approach, calling out a trembling plea.
"Please… kill me…"
Charles immediately raised his gun toward James's head. Though it felt cruel, James's words betrayed a desperate longing for release. Perhaps James believed it would be better to die than risk harming Emma again—or anyone else.
However, the power inside him refused to grant a quick, easy death. Instead, it roared in his mind, surging in the moment he tried to resign himself. Fierce impulses reignited, contorting his body all over again, muscles coiling, as though an enraged predator were preparing to pounce.
Charles was about to pull the trigger—then James turned and spotted Emma behind Joseph. She stood there, frightened yet filled with heartbreak. That sight sparked the last vestige of humanity in him, the part that was still a father. For a fleeting second, James was no longer a ravenous beast.
A faint smile curved his ruined face just as Charles used his power to make him lose focus for a split second—the perfect moment. Charles squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
A single shot pierced James's skull. He slumped to the ground with that final hint of a smile, while Emma's wail tore through the air. His last glance at his daughter was full of love, an unspoken blessing and a final plea for forgiveness.
Though Emma was safe from the beast he had become, the tragedy would remain a scar on her heart. Charles, Joseph, and Sebastian knew they had done their duty—yet bitter sorrow weighed on them. They would all be haunted by this outcome.
It was over so quickly. In the end, James relinquished life almost willingly, held back only by one final longing: to see his daughter safe. For one last instant, Charles had sensed James's lingering humanity in those tortured eyes.
Charles's gaze drifted to Emma, and he recalled Joseph's earlier advice, back when Charles had first gained his powers
"In the worst moments, the only thing that can save you is the strength of your own mind. You have to find something—anything—that keeps you grounded. That's up to you alone."
Mental fortitude and something to hold onto… That was the key to resisting the overwhelming power. In his final moments, James had found that anchor in his daughter, Emma. That love had briefly restored his humanity, even if only for the blink of an eye.
Sebastian rushed forward and knelt by James's lifeless body. His voice rose in a low incantation:
"Eena shamu ilumma, nurma uchelu. Ersetu shuluguma, seru nabtaru!"
Tiny lights, like stars glimmering in a night sky, appeared above James's corpse. Something drifted upward—like droplets twisting in midair. Sometimes they looked round, sometimes jagged. Then they split and merged again, writhing and ever-changing.
James's soul rose into the shimmering glow, coalescing until it was sealed into a clear Soulstone. Sebastian exhaled, picking up that newly-formed crystal and placing it into a small metal box he carried. The ritual to crystallize James's soul was complete.
Nodding at Joseph, Sebastian stepped aside so Emma could move forward.
Her legs trembling, Emma crossed the room and sank to her knees beside her father's lifeless body. Her small hand reached out, touching his now-cold cheek. His eyes were frozen open, but in them lingered a distant tenderness, and a faint, ghostly smile on his lips—like he was imparting his final apology and love.
"Dad…" she whimpered, the words quivering from her trembling lips. She laid her head on his still chest, tears spilling onto the blood-stained clothes. "I love you… please don't leave me…"
Charles and Joseph looked away, respecting her grief. They both felt that awful ache of watching a child lose someone they loved so brutally. Sebastian held the small box tightly, feeling the warm energy radiating from within. It was as if James's spirit still wanted to send a last surge of love to his daughter.
Emma's sobs filled the silence, echoing off the workshop's walls. She let her sorrow pour out in the hope that her tears might wash away the pain in her chest, though some hurts never truly vanish.
Joseph, Sebastian, and Charles stood with heads bowed, mourning the man who had lost himself to power—and the fragile child who had lost nearly everything. Though they had saved many from further harm, Emma's world was now shattered.
The silence lingered, disturbed only by Emma's sorrowful cries. Eventually, Charles took a step toward her and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Let's go, Emma…" he whispered softly.
Because no matter how harsh the future might be, she had to step out of the darkness of this day and face the light of tomorrow. Charles believed that as long as there was hope, Emma would find a way to stand again, even if it took all her courage. From this moment on, she would have to grow. Tragedies like this were the sort of cruel lesson no one should ever have to learn—but everyone experienced loss in some form or another, sooner or later.