Chapter 72: Area 51, Rousing Fate’s Interest, First Disaster
The inside was dimly lit, with warm orange lights glowing behind the bar and along the ceiling beams.
The air smelled like spiced whiskey and burned oak.
There were only about ten people scattered around the room, sitting in pairs or alone.
No one looked up.
But I could tell every one of them was an Exorcist.
’They must be the pub’s guards.’
A few of them were watching the door without making it obvious.
They weren’t weak either.
I could feel the pressure rolling off some of them like static on a dry day.
They tried to act natural, but to a veteran eye like me, their identity was clear.
I walked to the bar and took a seat.
The bartender came over.
He was tall and muscular, with a braided beard and silver piercings on one ear.
His eyes went straight to my mask.
He didn’t ask about it, just gave me a small nod.
"What’ll you have?" he asked.
I leaned closer and said quietly, "Zagreus has escaped once again."
He blinked once, then sighed and scratched his beard.
"Kid," he said, giving me a look, "next time you come here, try not to look more suspicious than a vampire at a blood bank. It’ll make your job easier."
I rolled my eyes.
’Yeah, because I really wanted to wear this outfit.’
I still couldn’t create fake faces, so this appearance was my only option.
He shook his head and muttered something in Greek before motioning for me to follow.
I got off the stool and went after him through a narrow door beside the bar.
The hallway behind it looked like a regular staff passage.
He stopped at the end and pressed three buttons on a wall panel.
Part of the wall creaked open with a soft metallic hiss.
"Go on," he said, stepping aside.
I nodded and walked through.
A staircase led down into the dark.
Cold, filtered air rose from below. It smelled faintly of dust, metal, and old incense.
As I descended, the wall behind me closed automatically, sealing the upper level off completely.
The stairs opened into a large underground chamber.
Thick columns stood like silent guards, stretching up into shadows.
Orange torchlight flickered across the stone, casting long shapes that moved like living things.
Ahead of me were two massive doors carved with runes and sigils.
Men in dark uniforms stood beside them, their posture straight, their eyes alert.
The first guard stepped forward. "Name?"
"Alan Veritus," I said.
"We’ll confirm your identity with a blood sample."
"Alright."
The second guard held out a syringe and drew a small vial of blood from my arm.
My shadow-tinged skin didn’t bother them. They were veteran Exorcists, and had seen far stranger things.
The reason I wore these clothes was to go into society.
Many Cursed Spirits blended into normal society. Exorcists needed to do the same.
And I couldn’t walk around in public with shadowed skin.
"Identity confirmed," one of them said.
The guards stepped aside.
I pushed open the doors and entered a vast hall.
The place looked part cavern, part meeting hall.
One side had tables filled with food. The other had barrels of drink.
A still, dark pond shimmered faintly in the center.
Far in the back, a corridor led to several smaller rooms.
The mood in the hall was a mix of calm and quiet formality.
Staff moved between the tables, glancing at me briefly before going back to work.
I followed one of them to a large bulletin board where several people were gathered.
"So these are the missions," I muttered.
Dozens of laminated sheets were pinned there, each describing something that sounded like a ghost story.
A receptionist sitting nearby looked up.
"Sir," she said, "let me give you a quick overview of the test."
I nodded.
"The missions for this test are chosen from the Underworld’s mission pool.
"They’re low-threat and suitable for applicants. However, none of these reports have been verified yet."
I listened quietly as she went on.
"If the cause turns out to be something ordinary, you’ll have to pick another mission.
"You only pass the test once you confirm a real Cursed Spirit."
She adjusted her glasses and pointed toward the back.
"As for your team, they’re waiting in separate rooms. You’ll be sent to one based on the mission you choose. Once eight people are assigned to the same mission, you can leave together."
"Got it," I said.
I turned back to the board and read the list of available missions:
...
Mission A – London, England
Report: Objects shatter in a children’s playroom.
Goal: Identify cause and confirm Cursed Spirit within three weeks.
Mission B – Vancouver, Canada
Report: Strange lights near riverbank; farmers claim livestock are sick.
Goal: Observe pattern; confirm Cursed Spirit if magical flux detected.
Mission C – Zurich, Switzerland
Report: Shadow-like figure seen at night near apartment complex.
Goal: Confirm presence and collect any physical trace.
Mission D – Street 51, Sheffield, England
Report: Local disappearances reported.
Goal: Investigate and determine if a Cursed Spirit is involved.
Mission E – Durban, South Africa
Report: Flickering lights under sand dunes; occasional tremors.
Goal: Confirm instability and collect samples if Cursed Spirit activity is found.
...
Surprisingly, there were no high-risk missions.
’All the tougher ones must’ve been taken already.’
’People probably rushed to grab them first since no one knows which mission actually has a Cursed Spirit.’
The underworld had clearly picked the weakest-looking missions for this test. Most of them seemed simple.
I went through each one carefully, reading between the lines for hints.
Sometimes the tone or wording gave away more than what was written.
Then my eyes stopped.
Mission D – Street 51, Sheffield, England.
’Street 51?’
I froze.
That was where the Cursed Spirit known as [Area 51] had first appeared.
The same one that, nine years later, would trigger the First Disaster in Europe and nearly destroy half the continent.
My family—House Daelthorn—had sacrificed themselves to stop it.
’This mission appearing here must be Fate’s doing again.’
’It’s throwing me into dangerous, but rewarding encounters.’
The presence of this mission could only mean one thing.
The Rank 5 Cursed Spirit, Fate, was already paying attention to me.
"Sir, do you have a question?"
"When did the disappearances start for Mission D?"
She flipped through her notes.
"Three months ago," she said.
I stayed silent, calculating in my head.
Three months.
That meant [Area 51] was still young, and weak.
If there was ever a time to destroy it, it was now.
But I didn’t pick the mission right away.
[Area 51] wasn’t a normal Cursed Spirit.
The method to enter its domain was simple.
Once someone became aware of it—and they were inside its range—they would vanish.
Teleported into some unknown dimension.
In my past life, its range had grown until it swallowed all of Europe.
No one could stop it. Not the clans. Not the Exorcist Union. Not even the United Nations.
People truly believed the world was ending in 2012 because of it.
Just before everything was consumed, House Daelthorn made their final move.
They used the Rank 5 Cursed Item, [Heavenly Restriction], to delay the Cursed Spirit.
For one week, they stopped it from pulling in anyone.
But it came at a steep cost.