God's Tower System

Jackson woke as the sun started to rise after a few hours of sleep. He quickly cleaned himself up from the previous night's festivities and departed the inn with the black letter in hand, leaving the girls to their own tasks.

Morning came and passed before the women had woken up, and he had too much to accomplish before departing for Paradise Falls, and this letter was his ticket to seeing it completed.

"Mr. Seraphin, we are The Order of the Hidden Mask. There is something urgent we must discuss before we can proceed further. Come to the Scragakord Bazaar. -The Voice of the Matron."

Jackson quickly strolled through Ashbourne as he made his way toward the location of the meeting, shocked at who he was meeting with. He knew Natane had strong ties to the underworld, but to have a relationship with The Hidden Mask was a surprise.

He entered the Scragakord Bazaar, looking around the large and cramped marketplace, overfilled with stalls and their merchants peddling their wares.

He slowly began walking around, glancing over at the people passing by. He wandered around, window shopping and declining assistance from the merchants for ten minutes before a man bumped into him, grabbing Jackson's back and pulling him close.

"Alley, behind." The man whispered before exclaiming loudly and throwing his hands into the air, repeatedly bowing as he backed away, "Excuse me, sir! It was an honest mistake!"

He stared at the strange man as he turned and disappeared into the crowd before staring at the alley across the bazaar, squinting his eyes. Before approaching the passage, Jackson looked around him, not catching anyone's gaze.

Three hooded figures stood, wearing all black, their faces hidden as Jackson approached, "Are you The Voice?"

"No, you cannot meet with The Voice currently. You have been branded by The Syndicate; it's too dangerous to agree to work with you." The man explained, extending his arms to each of the hooded figures behind him, "I am one of The Eyes; these are two of my Hands."

"I'm trying to rid myself of The Jackal and his gang. They are becoming a thorn in my side. I am also looking for information." Jackson replied.

"The Syndicate knows you're in Ashbourne; we already took care of one of their spies yesterday. According to our books, you're already indebted to us; why would we continue business if you still have an open tab?" The Eye asked, extending his arm wide across his body.

"I wondered where they disappeared to. I would have made contact earlier if I had known that it was you guys. You'll have to forgive me; this urban legend at the orphanage I grew up in made me hesitant to agree to a meeting with The Hidden Mask." Jackson explained, smiling slyly as he shrugged his shoulders.

"How much do I owe you guys?" He continued, "I have pretty deep pockets, and they're getting deeper by the minute."

"There is still one more Syndicate spy in Ashbourne. Kill him." The Voice declared, reaching into his robes before throwing a manilla folder onto the dusty stone street.

"We will know when it's done and get in contact with you." He chuckled before turning around and departing the alley with the two hooded figures following behind him.please visit

Jackson watched the three hooded men disappear before reaching down and picking up the folder. He opened the end, grabbing the stack of papers and pulling it out enough to see the photo attached.

"Valentin Dillinger..." He muttered, reading the name next to the photo. The man was an average blonde man with blue eyes. He was muscular with a strong face and short hair.

Jackson stuffed the papers inside the manilla folder, departing as his fingertips began glowing brightly, the folder instantly catching alight as he dropped it, burning to ashes in the center of the alley.

'Was he the one I sensed yesterday, or was he their partner..?' He thought, casually strolling through the streets. He wandered around the city for hours, unable to detect any presence following him.

Since he couldn't immediately ask The Hidden Mask about his roadblock, he attempted various Martial Training Halls, Mystic Shops, and Skillbook Emporiums, going so far as to risk it by involving The Climber's Association themselves, but none would give the answers he required.

Exiting the association's massive office, he noticed a presence across the street. It was momentary and immediately vanished, but Jackson smirked.

He ignored it for now, strolling through the streets while waiting for the perfect time. Now that he had located his second pursuer, he knew what to look for and quickly identified Valentin a dozen meters behind him.

Jackson began to aimlessly wander around Ashbourne, keeping an eye on his tail while being inconspicuous while counter-surveilling him. He walked through the stalls, haggling with the merchants, and even bought things from merchants as he started carrying more bags and shopping for miscellaneous items.

ραпdα nᴏνɐ| сom He headed to a nearby plaza, resting against one of the sandstone fountains, interacting with a device in his hands that he had recently purchased half a dozen for him and the girls.

Another technological marvel, the MagiTek Device, or MD, was similar to a touch screen cellular phone; however, unable to replicate the power source of batteries, they were retrofitted to work utilizing a specialized card that slid into the bottom of the device.

The card is a battery known as a Spirit Battery, created from liquid Spirit Cores that have been superheated utilizing the pressure of one's own Force. The Core's quality would affect how much life the MD would have, with the lowest having a lifespan of around a month with the highest for nearly a year.

"Time for the cat to become the mouse..." Jackson grinned, placed the phone into his pocket, got off the fountain, walking out of the plaza into an alley. Valentin quickly rushed ahead, peeking down the passage only to see nothing.

"Huh!?" He exclaimed, rushing into the dead end and looking toward the skies.

"Hello, Valentin..." Jackson said coldly, announcing his presence behind him, dropping the bags.

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