Since receiving the mission, Kaleem had been busy gathering every scrap of information he could about Blackwater Lake.
The lake, as it turned out, was a well-known local attraction in the newly renamed Blackwater Town. Once plagued by pollution from a massive chemical plant, the town had endured economic collapse and decades of social decay. But after the plant's dramatic destruction—thanks to an undisclosed federal intervention—a crater remained. Over time, it filled with water, transforming the ruined industrial zone into an eerie yet oddly beautiful lake.
Now, it drew tourists and curious visitors alike. A symbol. A mask over a scar.
Kaleem recalled this history as he sat quietly in the back of a taxi, gazing out the window. Buildings passed by in a slow rhythm, blurring into a stream of brick, glass, and flickering neon. The town's fresh air filled his lungs—so different from the stale atmosphere of his training room. He realized then how long it had been since he'd stepped outside.
For all his evolution as a Mystic, he was still human.
"This place is truly breathtaking," he muttered.
The driver overheard and chuckled. "You're not wrong, sir. Got a beautiful fishing spot, too. Nice viewing areas. Ever since that cursed factory went down, life's been a lot kinder to us locals."
Kaleem's attention perked. "Any rumors about the lake recently?"
The driver stiffened. For a moment, he seemed hesitant—as if recalling something he'd hoped to forget.
"Well... I don't know if you're fishing for stories, but they say someone saw a floating hand in the lake. When they pulled it out, what came with it was a mangled, twisted mess."
"Mangled?"
"Some say it was a crocodile. Others, a demon. But a few folks—especially the old ones—whisper that it was the ghost of a widow who drowned herself in that lake. Just rumors, if you ask me. Personally, I think it's the young ones pulling stunts for online content."
Kaleem frowned. He hadn't expected that. Rumors were common in places like this, but this one felt heavier. Too specific.
As they neared the lakeside, the taxi slowed to a stop. A group of police officers had blocked the access road.
"This area is off-limits," one officer—mid-thirties, stern—said firmly.
Kaleem opened the door, stepped out, and paid the driver without a word. Approaching the officer, he reached into his coat.
"My name is Kaleem. Special Investigator of the Special Crimes and Detective Unit."
He presented his badge—freshly minted for this very mission.
The officer glanced at it, then at Kaleem, then back again. His expression tightened with contempt.
"Go that way," he said curtly, pointing toward a narrow gravel path leading to the lake.
"Thank you, sir," Kaleem replied evenly, ignoring the disrespect in the man's tone. He turned and walked toward the shoreline.
Behind him, a younger officer leaned toward his superior. "Sir, is there a problem with him?"
The older man's face darkened. "That kid? People like him only move up through connections. While we bust our asses in the dirt, they float on paperwork and silver spoons."
The others said nothing. But from the silence, it was clear—they understood.
The lakefront was eerily silent.
No tourists. No curious locals. Not even the chirp of a bird. Kaleem stood at the water's edge, eyes scanning the still surface. Nothing stood out to the naked eye.
He bit his finger, drawing a thin line of blood across his left palm. Then he closed his eyes and raised the marked hand to his face. Placing the back of his hand over both eyes, he whispered in a low, vibrating voice:
"Leth val zaru echka."
Mana surged from his throat into the blood-drawn line. It pulsed red—then shimmered.
The skin of his palm split apart, revealing an embedded, mystical eye. It flickered blue, darting frantically before stabilizing into a crimson pink hue, with a vertical, serpentine pupil that mirrored Kaleem's own.
[Ocular Line]—one of the Seven Basic Strange Arts he'd learned in the past week. A technique designed to reveal residual mana, mystery traces, and entity trails invisible to the normal eye.
Through the Ocular Line, his vision changed instantly.
Footprints—thousands—glowed across the area. Leading from the shore into the lake, and back out again. Broad. Unnatural.
"Big," he murmured. "That's at least a Class 3 Entity… unknown grade."
The eye shut. Kaleem opened his own.
With his senses heightened and the lake's shallow clarity, he stepped closer. What he saw beneath the surface made his breath catch.
Bodies.
Dozens, maybe more, piled beneath the water.
Some were curled into fetal positions. Others reached upward, frozen mid-swim, eyes wide in horror. A few were completely still—offering no sign of struggle. Like offerings.
"A burial site," he whispered. "Old ones… and recent too."
Several corpses had nearly intact skin. No sign of decay. Which meant—this phenomenon wasn't over.
He turned to leave—when he heard a splash.
Fog crept in—thick and unnatural. It rose too quickly, too quietly.
His face stayed calm, but his heart began to pound.
When did I get caught?
Something gripped his wrist.
Reflexes kicked in. Kaleem spun and caught it—a cold, blue hand. Corpse-like. Frozen. Drained of blood. Its skin felt like damp stone.
Before he could react further, something else moved.
Fast.
He dodged—barely in time.
Looking up, Kaleem saw it.
A figure hovered above the water.
It looked like a woman—but wasn't.
Its eyes glowed pale blue. Its skin had a fish-scale texture, the same shade as the lake. Gills slit the sides of its neck. Translucent fins fluttered from its back and ears. It had the shape of a female, but none of the parts a human should have.
This wasn't a mutation.
This was something else.
The cause of the disappearances.
Definitely a Class 3 entity, at least B-Grade.
And in its glowing eyes, Kaleem saw only one thing:
Hunger.
The creature trembled—barely restraining itself—then let out a howl.
A metallic scream, like steel sheets grinding against one another.
Blood burst from Kaleem's ears. He staggered, clutching his head to block the sound.
The creature lunged, jaws wide open—revealing a circular ring of spinning, saw-like teeth.
Kaleem dropped low into a fighting stance.