"Hello there. I'm Investigator Noel," the man said as he pulled a small chair out from under the desk.
"Oh—Investigator. Nice to meet you," the other man replied. His eyes darkened, as if someone had just drained the color from his face.
"You said you had information about the notorious group called the Centipedes, correct?" Investigator Noel asked, placing a notebook and pen onto the table.
"Yes, Investigator," the man said, trembling.
"Alright. What does this information consist of?"
"Well… two nights ago, me and a group of ten security guards were on watch duty at the old ruins in Mark New City. During patrol, I heard a scream coming from the left side of my post."
"As I ran toward it, I saw a man—pitch-black hair, markings all over his face. He was holding one of the new guards hired that same day. And while he held him, I swear I felt a monstrous wave of what I could only describe as demonic energy pass by me."
"In that instant, the guard in his hands was ripped into tiny pieces. No hesitation. No sound. Just gone."
"The man turned, looked at me, and smiled. Then he turned away again. That's when I saw five others appear behind him—led by a man with a white bandanna. One of them called them 'the Centipedes.' When their leader noticed me, a wave of energy hit me so hard I could barely breathe. Then they walked away and vanished into the night without a trace."
As he finished speaking, the man trembled, eyes darting around the room as if expecting death to follow his words.
"Hmm… interesting information. This is truly quite—" Investigator Noel stopped mid-sentence.
He looked up—and froze.
The man he had been questioning had been silently cut into dozens of tiny pieces. His mouth still moved, as if trying to finish the story even as life slipped away.
Far away, deep in the slums, the Centipedes sat around a small table playing cards.
"Boss," the tattooed-face man said, glancing up. "He completed his task. Then died."
"Good," the boss replied, closing a small black book. The eyes on its cover shut