The walk home was short, but the air felt heavier than usual. The sun was setting, casting long, bruised shadows across the streets of Nairn.
Rebecca walked close to Lencar, her hand resting protectively on Luca's shoulder. Marco and Pem trotted ahead, oblivious to the adult tension, chasing a stray dog.
"Do you think they'll catch him?" Rebecca asked quietly, so the kids wouldn't hear. "The person doing... those things?"
Lencar looked straight ahead. "The Magic Knights are strong. If this person is bad, they'll catch him."
"I hope so," she shuddered. "I don't like thinking there's a monster walking around our town."
Lencar tightened his jaw. A monster. That was what he was to her. If she knew that the hand holding her grocery bag was the same hand that had turned ten men into dust, she wouldn't be walking this close.
"Don't worry," Lencar said, his voice firm. "I won't let anything happen to you. Or the kids. Or the restaurant."
"I know," Rebecca smiled weakly. "You're our bodyguard, right? The Potato Knight."
Lencar chuckled, but it sounded hollow in his own ears.
They arrived at the house. The transition from the fearful streets to the chaotic warmth of the home was jarring.
"DINNER!" Marco yelled, tackling Lencar's leg.
"I want stew!" Pem screamed.
"I want Lencar to pick me up!" Noah demanded from his crib.
Lencar switched gears instantly. He picked up Noah with one arm and swung Marco onto his shoulders with the other.
"Stew it is," Lencar announced. "But only if you wash your hands. If I see dirt, you get raw onions for dinner."
"Ewww!"
The evening proceeded with the comforting noise of a family. Lencar cooked. Rebecca fed the babies (Noah and Mia). Luca helped set the table. For a few hours, the Forensic Research Department didn't exist. The Eye of the Midnight Sun didn't exist. There was only the clinking of spoons and the sound of Pem laughing because he blew bubbles in his milk.
After dinner, it was story time.
They gathered in the living room, the fire crackling in the hearth. Even Rebecca sat on the rug, listening.
"Tonight," Lencar said, sitting in the armchair, "we finish the story of the Little Mermaid."
"Does she get legs?" Luca asked, wide-eyed.
"She does," Lencar nodded. "But magic always has a price. To walk on land, she had to give up her voice."
He told the story, weaving his [Illusion Magic] subtly to create shadows on the wall—ships, waves, the silhouette of a prince. He softened the original ending (the one where she turns into sea foam) and blended it with the Disney version, giving them a bittersweet but happy conclusion.
By the time he finished, Pem, Noah and Mia were asleep in a pile. Marco was yawning so wide his jaw cracked.
"Bedtime," Rebecca whispered.
They carried the children up the stairs. Lencar tucked Marco in, pulling the quilt up to his chin.
"Night, Lencar," Marco mumbled. "You're cool."
"Night, Marco."
Lencar walked out into the hallway. Rebecca was waiting by her door. She looked tired, the stress of the day finally catching up to her.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For handling the investigators. And for... everything. I was really scared back there."
"You did fine," Lencar said. "Go to sleep, Rebecca. Tomorrow is another day."
"Okay. Goodnight."
She closed her door.
Lencar went to his room. He locked the door and placed a [Wind Magic: Sound Barrier] over the cracks.
The warmth vanished from his face.
He sat on his bed, the moonlight illuminating his hands.
"The Forensic team is tracking the disappearances," Lencar analyzed, his internal voice cold and sharp. "They aren't tracking me specifically, they are tracking the anomaly."
In the world of Black Clover, when a mage dies, their grimoire disintegrates. It vanishes into dust. This was a universal law.
However, when Lencar used [Replica Magic: Absolute Replication], he didn't just kill the mage. He consumed the source of their magic. He took the Soul Gem.
This process caused the grimoire to vanish, yes. But it also left a residual mana void. It left traces of unnatural mana dispersal. And because he burned the bodies to ash to hide the physical evidence, he was leaving a pattern.
Problem: A pile of ash with no grimoire residue implies unnatural death. If I keep doing this, the pattern becomes a beacon. Marx Francois is smart. He will eventually deduce that someone is doing something with their magic.
"I need a cover," Lencar thought. "I need to make their deaths look natural. Or at least, magically consistent with standard combat."
He pulled out his grimoire. He flipped to the pages detailing his [Replica Magic].
"If I absorb the soul... the connection to the world is severed instantly. That's the tell."
He needed to experiment.
"Hypothesis: Can I replicate the magic without shattering the Soul Gem immediately? Can I create a delay? Or can I forge a fake mana signature to leave behind?"
He pulled out a small, trapped rat he had caught in the alley earlier (a grim necessity for testing). It wasn't a mage, but it had a tiny spark of life force.
He placed his hand over it.
[Replica Magic: Partial Syphon]
Instead of ripping the life force out, he tried to copy the structure of it while leaving the core intact.
The rat squeaked, thrashing. It grew weaker, but it didn't die. Lencar felt a faint impression of its "magic" (biological instinct) enter him, but it was hollow. Incomplete.
"Absolute Replication requires the whole soul," Lencar muttered, releasing the rat. "I can't copy the software without taking the hardware."
This was a fundamental limitation of his cheat. To gain the power, he had to consume the source.
"Then I must change the disposal method," Lencar decided. "I can't just leave ash anymore. I need to stage the crime scenes."
He thought about his new arsenal. [The Calamity Spheres]. [The Starfall Scepter].
"If I use overwhelming force... if I vaporize them completely with a Stage 1 attack... there is no ash to analyze. There is no residue because the mana itself is obliterated."
But that drew even more attention. Explosions were loud.
He sat back, frustrated. This was the problem with being a glitch in the world. The world noticed when pixels went missing.
"Wait," Lencar paused. "The Dungeon."
The Kiten Dungeon. It was filled with ancient traps. Golems. Curses.
"If I lure my targets into the Dungeon... or places with high ambient interference like the Grand Magic Zones... the forensic traces would be washed away by the environment."
He nodded slowly.
"Nairn is too clean. I need to hunt in the mud."
He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
"The investigation is a warning," Lencar whispered. "I have been sloppy. I got greedy with the bandits. From now on, I don't just kill. I curate."
He closed his eyes. The image of Rebecca's fearful face flashed in his mind.
"I will need to solve this," he promised the darkness. "I will either become a ghost that leaves no footprints or create new footprints. But if they find me... they find me... I can't hide for long either way."
Lencar was ready to face this reality.
But he would never let anything happen to Rebecca and the kids or his parents.
Because Lencar Abarame, the Heretic would burn the world down before he let that happen.