Chapter 21 – A Clue in the Ashes

【Alfred PoV】

The Soulbinder Sword came out clean.

It always did. That was the point of using soul-cutting magic instead of regular steel. No blood, no mess, no physical evidence that screamed murder scene. Just a kid’s body going still, his chest no longer rising, his eyes staring at nothing.​

I wiped the blade anyway, force of habit.

The motion gave my hands something to do while my brain processed what just happened. Fred was dead. The harmless kid from Chapter Two, the one I’d dismissed as not a threat, was now a corpse cooling in the ruins of a city he’d destroyed.​

Preventable.

That was the word stuck in my head like a splinter. This whole nightmare had been completely, utterly preventable. If I’d done my job right the first time, if I’d stuck with him instead of sending him off alone, if I’d recognized the warning signs.

But I hadn’t.

I’d gotten lazy, arrogant, and now a thousand people were dead because of it.

“Is it done?”

Brendon’s voice cut through my spiral of self-loathing. I glanced back at him, still holding his sword like he expected Fred to jump up for round two. The guy’s paranoia was honestly refreshing after dealing with so many naive idiots.

“Yeah. He’s gone.”

I sheathed the Soulbinder, the blade disappearing into its hidden compartment along my belt. The weight of it felt heavier than usual, like it was judging me for the mess I’d made.

Brendon stepped closer, his armored boots crunching over broken glass. He stared down at Fred’s body with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Disgust mixed with something else. Relief, maybe. Or just exhaustion.

“You made it look easy.”

“Practice.”

The single word hung between us, loaded with implications. Brendon’s eyes shifted to me, studying my masked face with new intensity. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out who I really was.

“Who are you? Really.”

There it was. The inevitable question.

I could’ve given him the full spiel, explained the Elysian Order and my role as cosmic janitor to superpowered teenagers. But honestly? I was too tired for exposition dumps. This chapter was already running long, and I had things to do.​

“Just a guy who hates overtime.”

I kept my tone light, casual, like we were discussing weather instead of justified homicide. Brendon didn’t look satisfied with that answer, but he also didn’t push. Smart guy. He knew when to leave well enough alone.

I turned back to Fred’s body, crouching down beside it.

Otherworlders were weird when they died. Sometimes they just stayed dead like normal people. Other times they’d dissolve into particles of light, returning to whatever cosmic recycling program spawned them. And occasionally, they’d leave behind items.​

Loot drops, basically.

I hated that I thought of it that way, but after years in this job, you developed a certain clinical detachment. Fred’s body was already starting to shimmer around the edges, that telltale glow that meant he was fading.

“Looking for something?”

Brendon had moved closer, watching my search with suspicion.

“Evidence. These kids usually carry stuff from their old world. Helps with identification, paperwork, all the boring admin work nobody thinks about.”

My hands moved efficiently, checking Fred’s pockets. Lint, some copper coins, a handkerchief embroidered with initials. S.L. Sylvia’s, probably. My jaw clenched.

Then my fingers brushed something cold and metallic.

I pulled it out slowly, holding it up to the fading light. A pendant, silver chain with a small charm attached. The charm was shaped like a wolf, intricately detailed, definitely not from this world. The craftsmanship was too modern, too precise.

But that wasn’t what made my blood run cold.

The pendant was glowing faintly, pulsing with residual magic that felt wrong. Not Fred’s magic. This signature was different, sharper, more controlled. And etched into the back of the wolf charm were initials.

K.R.

“Found something?”

I ignored Brendon’s question, turning the pendant over in my palm. My mind raced through possibilities, connecting dots I really didn’t want to connect. Fred had been carrying this, but it wasn’t his. The magic signature didn’t match. Which meant it belonged to someone else.

Someone Fred had been with.

The Missing Hero.

The second Otherworlder who’d gotten separated during the summoning, the one I’d been planning to track down. Fred had mentioned a friend in his rambling back in the forest. I’d assumed they’d just gotten split up during arrival, dimensional turbulence or whatever.​

But what if it wasn’t random?

What if someone had intercepted them deliberately?

I stood up, pendant clutched tight in my fist. The implications were bad. Really bad. If a third party had grabbed the second hero before I could reach them, that meant someone else knew about the summoning. Someone with resources and knowledge to interfere with interdimensional arrivals.

The Church, maybe. They had the magical infrastructure.

Or worse, one of the darker factions that operated in Eldoria’s shadows. Slavers, cultists, rogue nobles with delusions of grandeur. Any of them would love to get their hands on a fresh Otherworlder with no support system.​

“Damn it.”

The word slipped out before I could stop it. Brendon raised an eyebrow behind his helmet, but I was already moving, standing up and looking out at the ruined city. Smoke still rose from collapsed buildings. Bodies still littered the streets. And somewhere out there, another ticking time bomb was waiting to explode.

My vacation was officially over.

Not that I’d been having much of a vacation to begin with, but there’d been a brief, shining moment where I thought I could handle this job without major complications. Track two heroes, keep them stable, file my reports, maybe grab a drink at that tavern with the cute bartender.

Instead, I got a city-destroying love triangle and a missing person case.

“I need to go.”

I pocketed the pendant, adjusting my mask to make sure it was secure. Brendon watched me prepare to leave, his expression unreadable behind all that armor.

“What about the survivors?”

“That’s your department, hero. Do your thing. Help them rebuild, give them someone to believe in, all that inspirational stuff.”

I gestured vaguely at the ruins around us.

“I’ve got to find the other half of this disaster before they pull a Fred and level another city.”

Brendon didn’t argue. He just nodded, accepting his role in this cosmic mess. Good guy, that Brendon. Rough around the edges, but his heart was in the right place. The survivors needed someone like him right now, someone who understood loss and could stand with them.

They didn’t need me.

I was better suited for the shadows, for the dirty work nobody wanted to acknowledge. For hunting down problems before they became catastrophes.

Even if I was a bit late on that front today.

The sun was setting behind the ruined skyline, painting everything in shades of orange and red. Poetic, in a depressing way. End of a chapter, literally and figuratively. Fred’s story was done, closed with brutal efficiency.

But the Missing Hero’s story was just beginning.

I started walking, picking my way through the debris toward the city’s edge. My mind was already racing ahead, planning next moves. I’d need to contact my sources, check in with the Guild, maybe shake down some information brokers. The pendant was a clue, but I needed more.

Names, locations, motives.

Behind me, I could hear Brendon calling out to survivors, his voice carrying across the ruins with authority and compassion. He’d do good work here. Give them closure, help them process the trauma, maybe even start rebuilding.

Meanwhile, I’d be doing what I did best.

Cleaning up cosmic vomit before it stained the carpet permanently.​

I pulled out a small notepad from my pocket, flipping it open to today’s checklist. The pages were covered in scribbled notes, crossed-out tasks, and sarcastic commentary I’d written to myself during boring stakeouts.

I found a blank space and wrote in clean letters:

One down. One missing. Zero sanity left.

Then I added below it:

Find K.R. before they go full protagonist mode.

I snapped the notepad shut and tucked it away. The pendant felt heavy in my other pocket, a reminder of my failure and my next mission rolled into one uncomfortable lump of metal. Somewhere out there, a scared kid with god-like powers was either being manipulated, tortured, or groomed into becoming the next Fred.

Or maybe they’d already snapped.

Maybe I was already too late again.

“Time to find the other half of this disaster.”

The words came out quiet, meant only for myself and whatever cosmic force was writing this mess. The mask hid my expression, which was probably for the best. I didn’t want anyone seeing the mix of guilt, determination, and bone-deep exhaustion on my face.​

I had work to do.

The ruins of the city faded behind me as I walked toward the horizon, toward whatever fresh hell waited in the next chapter. The pendant bumped against my leg with each step, a constant reminder.

One down.

One missing.

And me, stuck in the middle, trying to keep the peace while everything burned.​

Just another day in the life of Alfred von Schmidt, cosmic janitor.

Lucky me.