“A bike accident? Well, I have no clue why you’re coming here of all places for such an occurrence. Shouldn’t you be able to treat such wounds at your own place?”

  The doctor's question hung in the air. Aizawa found himself unable to answer for a short period of time, but he managed to compile something in a matter of seconds—something mildly believable.

  He coughed quietly before responding. “When he came to us crying, he complained about pain in his lower back and neck… we theorize a sprain is possible.”

  The doctor—a gaunt woman with neatly trimmed hair, wearing medical attire and a protective face covering—looked at Shinso, who awkwardly sat on a wooden bench beside Aizawa, silently playing with his hands.

  Shinso’s cheeks flushed as he looked up at the doctor; he knew damn well that as much as the story seemed juvenile—borderline embarrassing—it was better than saying something much more worthy of being locked up in a detention center.

  “I didn’t cry, dad.” Shinso cringed so hard he swore his face would peel off; he never knew he’d call Aizawa ‘dad’ at any moment in his life.

  Aizawa let out a quiet groan, rubbing his temples. The doctor stood up, gesturing for Shinso to do so as well.

  “Strip.”

  Those words were like ice on Shinso’s skin. His face got even redder as he began removing his garments without question. After he was fully bare, Aizawa immediately left the room, running a hand through his hair to deter the sheer embarrassment and absurdity of the situation. Well—in a sense—it was better than saying: “we’re here to see if this boy wasn’t beaten too badly by a group of political figures with animalistic features.”

  “Where’s Shinso?” Olivia asked, heading down the hallway.

  Aizawa looked back at the door, sighing. “In there. The doctor’s checking his wounds.”

  Olivia glanced down at her watch, her eyes widening slightly. “We better get back quick. If we are to get to that meeting by the designated time, we need sleep.”

  Aizawa scoffed. “When I worked on night patrols back home, I’d often return late, only sleep an hour or two, and tend to a rowdy class for the next seven hours. I’d say I’m pretty used to a lack of sleep.”

  “What about Shinso? He’s still growing; he’s only about fifteen years old.”

  “If I was told that my friend who was presumably shot dead was actually alive, living under a new identity in a place miles away from here, I’d personally not sleep for a while—either trying to find them or too excited under that prospect.”

  “Shinso. Excited?” Olivia arched an eyebrow.

  “I know he’s not the most eccentric person, but since he’s met that boy, he’s been noticeably more tolerant of certain things… like the lack of coffee in this place.” Aizawa chuckled dryly without a hint of enthusiasm.

  …

  Catherine, with Humphrey’s lantern in hand, raised it to gaze at particular patterns lining the walls of the underground structure. For the most part, the entire space was a deep gray, almost black, with traces of crimson seeping into the cracks of the space. The cracks of crimson glowed very dimly in the darkness, not enough to provide ample lighting.

  She ran her hand along one of the stone pillars, humming under her breath. “The existence this underground structure is dedicated to is most likely malevolent. In most spirituality texts—”

  “Red symbolizes malice and disorder.” Humphrey finished her sentence.

  “Correct…” Catherine’s voice softened, a small smile forming on her face.

  “You assume I don’t know some things too?” Humphrey folded his arms over his chest.

  Catherine shook her head. “I assume you know plenty.”

  She turned back to the stone pillar, leaning in closer to gaze at the crimson cracks in the surface. They were only about three or four inches deep, crawling with a strange glowing energy that flowed upwards.

  “This entire structure has this dark energy… it appears chaotic and unstable to an extent.”

  “With that scale, it’d be near impossible to purify without something at the level of a demi-god.”

  “Well, none of us are demi-gods.” Catherine sighed.

  Catherine felt another chill course through her body. She habitually snapped around, looking up. Her body tightened up like a defense mechanism, ready to spring or attack at any moment if any problems arose.

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  “What is it?” Humphrey looked into the darkness above as well.

  Catherine remained silent for a moment, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I hope you packed any cleansing artifacts… I believe we’ll need one shortly.”

  “I have this,” Humphrey reached into his pocket, taking out a thin necklace with a green jewel at the end.

  “Mother Nature’s Amulet, it gives the user immunity to negative influence for a random interval of time… synonymous with nature’s unpredictability.”

  “That’ll either be helpful or a detriment.” Catherine clenched her fists.

  At that moment, an illusory knife appeared in her grip, made of dazzling purple energy. Seeing this, Humphrey’s eyes widened.

  “What pathway are you on?”

  “Why didn’t you ask that when your organization put that seal on me and Carter? Additionally, that’s not important,” Catherine barked as she raised the weapon into the darkness.

  A pair of beaming crimson eyes appeared in the darkness, followed by a low growl and reverberated off the ancient walls. The inky darkness above them seemed to quake and mutate, tendrils of shadow hanging down like vines. A deafening hiss sounded from the shadows as a figure leapt from them—it had ink-black hair, and its entire form was composed of darkness.

  Catherine instantly recognized the creature—a tremebrus—but this one was male. Even as she dodged the first feral swing, she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. She had known of tremebrus’s tendencies and habits for a while through research, how these organisms targeted only men. Who knew there was a homosexual tremebrus!

  Catherine swung her blade at the darkness, the weapon cleaving through the substance and severing it. The moment it hit the floor, it diffused into a thin smoke that dissipated into nothing. The tremebrus let out a low roar, snapping its torso one-hundred and eighty degrees to face Catherine once again. Humphrey’s grip tightened around Mother Nature’s Amulet as he put it on.

  A radiant green light shone from the jewel of the necklace, igniting the veins in his body with an emerald glow that tore at the darkness around him. A strange and weary infusion of knowledge seeped into his mind, letting him know how long the charm was active for—ten minutes.

  Humphrey—now imbued with the temporary boost in power—charged over to the entity. He clenched his fists, slamming one into the ground. The stone under him began to crack as large vines burst through, constricting around the tremebrus’s ankle.

  Even if Humphrey corresponded to the Justice pathway, he could still use nature-related abilities with the charms help.

  The tremebrus let out a growl as it was abruptly pulled down, the vines coiling around its illusory form.

  Catherine raised her knife to the creature's throat, smirking.

  “We handled that well,” She chortled.

  Humphrey approached the tremebrus, the jewel of the Mother Nature Amulet lighting up once more. The moment the artifact ignited, the illusory creature let out a high-pitched squealing sound, almost like a pig in a slaughterhouse, as its body was gradually worn down and dissipated by the charm. As bit by bit of the supernatural creature ebbed away, the darkness above them suddenly descended all at once—tens, if not hundreds of tremebrus rained from the ceiling!

  Caught off guard, Catherine darted to the nearest alcove in the underground structure, watching as the countless shadowy entities rained down from the ceiling above them.

  “What the hell?” Humphrey’s eyes widened as he bolted to Catherine, taking refuge with her behind a large pillar.

  “There’s… hundreds of them.” Humphrey peeked for only a millisecond, immediately ducking behind the pillar once more.

  “Why are there so many down here? Weren’t most of the supernatural existences handled during the earlier Blood Moons’?” Catherine gawked.

  “Perhaps this is an exception; it’s the underground site of a powerful entity… What if it’s the reason they happen to begin with? I’ve seen no reports of Blood Moons’ having significant impacts anywhere else.”

  In an instant, every tremebrus in the room turned their heads to look into the darkness beyond where Catherine and Humphrey had walked. In an eerie unison, every one of them kneeled together, placing their hands on their non-existent hearts.

  “What are they doing…” Humphrey watched in silence, his hair standing on end as the darkness the entities were kneeling towards suddenly warped and changed.

  Another pair of beaming eyes emerged in the darkness, and a low growl sounded through the entire structure. The crimson energy coursing through the cracks suddenly lit up, illuminating a large portion of the space.

  A figure could be faintly seen—a towering figure. It had long crimson hair, a pair of goat-like horns on their head, and they were clad in metallic gray armor. In their hand, they carried a spear twice their height. This figure—standing at a massive hieght—was perched on a blood-stained throne.

  Humphrey’s eyes abruptly glazed over, turning a blood-red color all over. Black cracks washed over the green energy that coursed through his body, and he began to cough and gag. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest with trembling hands, his breathing quickening.

  Catherine looked to Humphrey on the ground, whose condition had now marginally worsened. Her eyes widened with fear as Humphrey’s skin began to erupt with fungi and rotten, decaying matter. His dark-colored skin began to peel off layer by layer, revealing writhing plates of flesh and bone underneath.

  “G-go… now! Destroy this place!” Humphrey yelled, dragging the attention of every tremebrus in the room to his direction.

  They darted over to him, growling like feral dogs as they bit down into his rotting flesh, tearing him apart piece by piece. Blood splattered across the walls, and other bodily organs and tissues were consumed in a matter of seconds. Catherine suppressed her gasp, charging up the stairs of the underground structure, and slamming the wooden door shut.

  The crimson moonlight cast dim shadows across the yard, shining onto Catherine’s pale face. She suddenly turned around, a surge of anger washing over her as she jabbed her illusory knife into the door, screaming in anger.

  She had to destroy the place one way or another. But it only took a moment to show how dangerous it was—there were countless tremebrus’s down there, and something else—something she didn’t see, but could feel was there.

  Had Humphrey gazed at it and lost control of himself?

  The existence the underground chamber corresponds to was worshiped by the tremebrus. No wonder they were so frequent there; it was technically a breeding ground for the damn things. After all, there were hundreds of them down there.

  Her next thought was simple—head to the underground cathedral and consult the Pollinators about the issue.