CHAPTER 94: CHAPTER 10.22 : SPIRITUAL POLICE

Prabowo and his troops slowly walked away, leaving behind the battlefield that had been reduced to ruins. Dust still lingered in the air, the scent of scorched debris mixing with the metallic tang of blood. In the rear of the formation, Al followed silently, his steps measured, his expression unreadable.

Whispers began to ripple among several of the soldiers. Their voices were low, cautious, as though even uttering such words aloud might invoke some hidden curse.

"Who exactly are those people...?" one of them muttered in disbelief.

"Why does the commander appear to be so respectful and almost deferential toward them?" another asked in a hushed tone, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"That woman... she looked like a sorceress. I never imagined, not even in my wildest thoughts, that there would truly be witches or magicians existing in our world."

The sound of their murmurs carried a weight of uncertainty. The air was thick with tension, as though the very act of voicing such doubts was forbidden, a crime in itself.

Others in the group were equally unsettled. Every so often, a pair of wary eyes would glance toward Bojes and Ira, unable to mask their suspicion.

"And what about that girl whit ice powers? Are we simply going to let her go without restraint?" another officer asked, breaking the uneasy silence.

Hearing this, Prabowo, still walking at the back, lowered his voice and spoke with deliberate calmness,

"They are from a police unit... much like us."

The subordinates reacted with visible shock.

"Police?"

"But Commander, we have never once seen or even heard of them before!" one exclaimed, disbelief thick in his tone.

For a brief moment their footsteps faltered. Several exchanged uneasy glances, hesitation flashing in their eyes before they forced themselves to resume the walk. Heavy breaths could be heard between the rhythm of boots striking broken ground, breaths that carried the mingled flavor of fear, doubt, and confusion.

Prabowo exhaled deeply, then continued in a heavier tone,

"They are police officers, yes—but they belong to a special branch. A classified division, one that operates in secrecy. Strictly speaking, I should not even be explaining this to you. However... what all of you have witnessed tonight will inevitably be erased from your minds by tomorrow. Therefore, there is little harm in telling you this much."

"Erased...? Do you mean our memories?" one officer asked, his voice trembling.

Prabowo nodded gravely.

"They belong to the division in charge of handling magical and spiritual phenomena. A division specifically created to deal with such matters. To be honest, when I first heard of them, I dismissed the idea as nothing but a fabrication, a convenient excuse for the higher-ups to play their own hidden games. But once I became a commander myself, I learned the undeniable truth—their existence is real, and so too is the hidden world of magic."

His words carried the heaviness of a man who had long carried a secret, a truth he had been forced to accept against his will. His face tilted downward slightly, the dim glow of lamps casting a weary shadow over his expression. Even now, it seemed as though he had not fully come to terms with the reality he spoke of.

The subordinates froze for a heartbeat. A chill ran down some of their spines. Others still shook their heads in denial. Yet, in the end, most were inclined to believe—for they trusted their commander, and they had seen with their own eyes the inexplicable display of supernatural power that had occurred mere moments ago.

Silence weighed heavily over them. Only the faint whistle of the night wind weaving through the shattered ruins accompanied their walk. A few men gripped their weapons tighter, as if the steel in their hands could offer protection from forces beyond their comprehension.

"As for your memories..." Prabowo continued, sighing once more. "That is their protocol. I cannot claim to understand the exact mechanics of it, but know this: the existence of magic is something carefully concealed from the outside world. Anyone who should not have witnessed it will have their memories altered. That includes all of you."

"You mean to say our memories will be erased?" one officer whispered, his voice unsteady with disbelief.

"More precisely, they will be modified," Prabowo corrected firmly. "You may retain fragments of what occurred, perhaps even most of it—but not in the way you experienced tonight."

"Does that mean our memories will also be erased?" asked one of the café’s security team members, his face pale.

Prabowo nodded again. "Everyone’s memories will be modified, without exception. Including this boy here." His finger pointed at Al, who trailed silently behind them.

Al raised his head at the gesture. His gaze met theirs—brief, quiet, yet carrying an inexplicable weight. He gave a small nod, nothing more, but in that fleeting gesture was the impression of a thousand unspoken words. The soldiers who met his eyes felt, for an instant, as though a veil had been drawn aside, and something vast and unfathomable peered back at them.

Without further words, they resumed their walk, eventually arriving at the main gate.

This world... is far more complex than i realized. They no longer turn a blind eye to the existence of sorcery and magic. That, at least, should be considered a good thing... Al thought to himself.

And yet... for me and my people, this will only make matters more troublesome. His inner voice, let out a heavy sigh.

For a brief moment, his youthful face bore the sharpness of an adult, his eyes narrowing with a hidden resolve. The quiet sound of his breath stretched out in the silence, weaving together with the rhythmic steps of the people around him.

But his thoughts were abruptly severed—when a sticky web suddenly shot toward him, striking directly at his arm.

SWOOSSHH!

Al instantly sensed the presence of the attack. He could have dodged easily. Yet he did not. He allowed it to bind him, if only because the intent behind it did not carry true malice. Even so, confusion clouded his brow.

"What exactly is the meaning of this, lady?" Al asked, shaking his arm that had been caught. The threads clung tightly, solid and unyielding, like hardened resin.

"Who are you?" Ira demanded, her steps sharp and decisive as she advanced. Her gaze was piercing, laden with suspicion, dissecting Al as though she could peel away the layers of his very essence. Her eyes did not blink, her body leaned forward, fists clenched at her sides, ready to strike again the instant she found a reason.

"Me?" Al raised an eyebrow, clearly bewildered by the question. "Do you wish me to formally introduce myself, then?"

"What is going on, Ira?" Bojes called out from a distance. He had just freed his leg from the unconscious Jogo, and now strode quickly toward Ira and Al.

"What are you doing?! Do not lay your hands on that boy!" Yura cried out, panic rising in her voice. "Devy! Protect Al!"

Devy gave a sharp nod and moved forward.

But Ira’s magic wove a shimmering wall of threads between them, blocking her path. Devy responded by summoning a sharp edge of ice, ready to cut the threads—until Ira’s calm voice interrupted.

"Calm yourselves, young ladies. I have no intention of harming this boy," Ira said evenly. Her tone was steady, but her eyes remained sharp, as if her words of reassurance were nothing more than a temporary mask.

"Then what exactly do you want?" Yura shot back, her voice raised with defiance.

Bojes frowned deeply. He sensed nothing abnormal from Al. Devy, too, stilled her movements, pausing as she simply froze the threads obstructing her, shattering them with a flick of his power.

"I suppose I was mistaken. There is nothing unusual about this child," Ira finally said, releasing Al’s hand from her sticky web. The magical strands melted away, dripping to the floor like molten wax that quickly solidified into translucent lumps.

"Hm?" Bojes muttered, perplexed.

"I thought he was a magician as well. For a moment, I distinctly felt a trace of magical energy coming from his direction," Ira continued. "But... it seems that energy originated from this ring."

Everyone present turned their attention toward Al’s hand. The dim light reflected faintly across the surface of his ring, making it gleam briefly, as if concealing a secret far greater than its unassuming form suggested.

Bojes immediately sensed the strange energy emanating from it. Devy, being far more attuned to magic, confirmed it silently with a narrowed gaze.

"Where did you obtain this?" Ira asked sharply, her grip tightening around Al’s arm as she leaned in closer, her face mere inches from his. Her breath brushed against his skin, the tension palpable to everyone watching.

Al shook his arm, freeing himself from her grasp with ease. Ira blinked in mild surprise, briefly questioning whether she had simply underestimated his strength.

"Lady... forgive me, but no matter where I acquired this, what business is it of yours?" Al replied, irritation creeping into his tone.

"What did you just say?!" Ira’s eyes narrowed, her pride clearly wounded.

"Wahaha! Bold words from such a boy," Bojes laughed, amused.

Al tilted his head slightly, folding his arms as his gaze locked with Ira’s. His eyes were sharp, cold, like the edge of a freshly forged blade. The air between them seemed to grow heavier, suffocating in its intensity. Several onlookers held their breath without realizing it.

"I do not know who you truly are, nor do I know whether you possess the authority to act however you please. But tell me—must I truly submit and answer whatever questions you demand of me, even if those questions pry into matters that are personal, private, and not yours to touch?" Al’s words cut through the silence like a knife.

Ira faltered, retreating a step under the weight of his stare. His question struck with undeniable truth. She realized she had overstepped, infringing upon the boy’s privacy without justification. Especially since the ring bore no trace of direct threat. She shook her head at herself.

"...Fine. My apologies. I admit my mistake. I may have gone too far," Ira said quietly, though the way she averted her gaze made it clear her apology was reluctant at best.

"Hahaha! Ira, did you actually just admit fault? That is rare indeed," Bojes chuckled, clearly entertained.

Al’s gaze flickered from Ira to Bojes, who was still laughing heartily.

"I heard little about who you people truly are. But from what I have heard, you call yourselves professionals. For a professional, one mistake may be forgiven, tolerated even. But two mistakes committed at the same time? That would surely cause your credibility to diminish... would it not?" Al said coolly.

"What are you implying?" Ira and Bojes asked in unison, both stung by his words.

Al merely lifted a hand and pointed behind Bojes.

Everyone instinctively turned their eyes in that direction, including Devy and Yura.

"You people... are still far from professional," Al said, his voice calm yet carrying the sting of mockery.

"How is that even possible?!" Bojes exclaimed in shock.

And whatever they had witnessed... was certainly not something that could be taken lightly.