Jean felt consciousness before he opened his eye. It was as if the darkness behind his eyelid had a crack in it, showing the light of what he hoped was day. Bracing himself for reasons he didn't quite understand, he opened his eye, only to calm almost immediately. He laid upon a bed in the sickbay of the Cellar. Softly, he exhaled. It was good to be home, yet it was also...wrong, somehow. Something was off.

He turned his head to the left, then blinked. He jolted upright, his eye wide, and fear spiked to his throat along with a strange, heart-clenching feeling of shameful relief.

Standing over Trevor's sickly body as he laid in a bed was Celezar, a hand on the man's forehead. Jean took in little more than this image before warring within himself. He should scream. He should alert someone. But his voice caught in his throat.

Literally. He couldn't speak, even if he wanted to. He grasped his throat, swallowing and blinking with confusion. Then he realized it had to be Celezar. Celezar was preventing him from speaking.

The relief he felt steadily faded to confused fear, but then he saw Trevor's deathly complexion become a healthy peach. Following this, the technician also began to breathe easier in the mask over his face. Lips parting, Jean stared from the supine form to Celezar.

What in the world...?

Moving away from Trevor's bed, Celezar looked at him, then glanced away. "Sorry. I just wanted to heal everyone."

Blinking, Jean stared a moment more. Then his eye glanced around the room. Artie, Butch, Hugh, Lucas, and Raphael were all lying in beds, their skins healthy shades and were breathing with ease. It wasn't hard for Jean to believe they didn't originally look like this...but why?

The sound of movement brought his attention back to Celezar, who was walking down the aisle. This further confused Jean, bringing a slew of questions to his mind. Why would Celezar walk towards the antechamber? Did the other men know he was there? That couldn't be...

Hell, why was Celezar there at all—healing everyone, at that?

Abruptly, Jean's expression dropped as he recalled what happened. Just as his gaze began to glaze over, he felt his thoughts forcibly return to the present. He almost shuddered at the beginning tingles of fear in the back of his head. Blinking again, he looked at Celezar, who had turned to look at him with a frown on his face.

"No. Don't remember. It's best that way. Least of all to remember that entity." Celezar then seemed to realize what he was doing, his shoulders slumping as he turned away again.

"That was you, wasn't it?" Jean blurted before he could stop himself. The call of his name was faintly audible in his ears, and he remembered the mighty roar.

The tall form stopped, causing him to tense. Tentatively, Celezar glanced back at him. Jean closed his eye for a moment, trying to recall what happened again. Instead of all the events leading up to falling unconscious, he saw a spade-tailed, horned creature in his bleary mind's eye that stood at least twenty feet tall. At least. How he could even remember such details was a mystery to him.

Steadily, the memory seemed to slip from his grasp. The details remained. He gazed at Celezar, who continued to look back at him. "Why...?" He swallowed, a familiar feeling gripping at his heart. "Why did you...?"

Celezar merely stared at him, making him uncomfortable.

Jean had to wonder. Why hadn't he called for help, yet..?

The double-doors to the antechamber suddenly opened, and his heart jumped to his throat in sudden panic as he looked at them. The moment he did, he saw Celezar disappear from view, which both calmed him and brought about the unwanted feeling of dejection. He brushed it away.

Verne was entering, his head lowered while looking at something on a clipboard. The doctor didn't seem to realize Jean was awake. He approached the closest occupied bed near him, which belonged to Butch.

He blinked. He squinted, lips parting in surprise. "How in the...?"

Jean opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and rapped his knuckles against the side of his bed.

Verne's head snapped up to look at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Jean!" He came swiftly to Jean's bedside, looking him over with a critical eye. "You were all in some sort of...deathly stasis just moments ago. How are you possibly...?" Shaking his head, he blinked a few times in confusion.

"I...don't know. I just woke up." Jean took a moment to digest his own words.

He just lied about the actions of an inhuman.

That was a dangerous first.

Clearing his throat, he leaned back against the pillow. "What happened? Last thing I remember is...Something appeared." He frowned, trying to find the words for his last vivid memory. Celezar wasn't letting him remember. Strangely, perhaps alarmingly, he didn't feel resentment or fear. Only relief.

Verne pursed his lips in understanding. He glanced back at the closest person to Jean's bed which belonged to Artie. "As it was told to me, Nicholae received a call here during your hunt yesterday from the helicopter. It was Celezar."

Jean stared intensely at him, listening with full attention.

The doctor shook his head. "When Nicholae's team arrived, you were all unconscious and Celezar himself was nowhere to be found."

Jean's gaze wandered as he struggled to understand. It was difficult to understand. Celezar called for help on their behalf? Healed them all from what was likely the brink of death? What was he doing...?

A part of Jean already knew the answer. He wanted to believe that answer was the truth. But he couldn't...

Could he? Should he dare to?

The double doors opened again as Ulrich and another man with a scarred cheek entered the room. Immediately, their initially somber expressions changed to ones of shock.

 "Jean...? Jean!" Ulrich exclaimed, swiftly entering the room, and approached his older brother's bed. "You're...you're awake? How?" He looked at Verne as if for an answer.

Verne just slightly shrugged. Then he seemed to realize something as he raised a brow. "It would appear to me that Celezar healed you all," he said with surprising ease.

Both brothers looked at the doctor as if he had grown dual heads for two completely different reasons. Ulrich looked gobsmacked as he realized the others were also healthy, whereas Jean was surprised and impressed Verne had figured it out so easily.

Nodding towards his cousin, the other man in the room, Jean managed a minute, vaguely amused smile. "Kegan. How are you?"

The scarred man gave an exaggerated scoff, looking him over. "I should be asking you that."

As Jean conceded, Verne walked around to check his heart monitor.

A small smile formed on the doctor's face before falling rather abruptly. "Yes. Yes, it is so. Your heart is no longer failing. You are obviously of sound mind. Or so I hope."

Again, the brothers and their cousin gave the doctor an almost exasperated look. Jean slanted his eye. "I think I'm of sound mind."

"Most people who aren't think that."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, doc." To his brother and cousin, Jean asked, "What happened yesterday? I know you were dealing with the authorities."

Kegan frowned. "I see we're just going to ignore the fact that you were healed again by an inhuman?"

"I don't see how there's anything to say about it. How am I supposed to know why?" Jean briefly closed his eye, irritated at where this was going. His thoughts were already antagonizing him. He didn't need this.

To his relief, both Ulrich and Kegan easily relented. Ulrich's expression then dissolved into a harrowed look of gratitude mixed with sober disbelief. He looked away, a crease forming between his brows. "We saw everything. The...That creature, how your magic was nullified. We had the government quarantine the district. No one's going in or out until that monster is gone."

Jean watched as his younger brother raised his head, shame evident in his expression. Jean figured Ulrich had his group move out before he and his men went unconscious. At the look of pain in his brother's eyes, he pursed his lips in understanding, much as he wished he didn't. If he couldn't do anything against such a creature, Ulrich never would have had a chance.

Ulrich diverted his gaze again, turning so he was in the motion to walk away. "After we saw the footage, Nicholae contacted Holloway. A devil, Jean. You came into contact with a fucking devil..." His words broke off as he shook his head and pinched his nose bridge, clearly distressed by what he witnessed.

Observing him and Kegan, whose expression mirrored Ulrich's, Jean frowned with concern. "It was better for your group to have left instead of trying to take on that thing, Ulrich. I have nothing against your decision."

Lowering his hand, Ulrich glanced to the ceiling. "Mother said otherwise."

Jean opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of those words. How his mother could remain to be callous despite what had happened was yet one of the many things he and his brothers had to contend with. "Don't let her ignorance get to you," he finally stated. He brushed off the slight heat of uneasiness that moved through him at his words.

Ulrich quickly glanced at him but managed a nod after a moment.

Kegan tapped the footboard. "I'll let you be, then. I would tell the men about your...miraculous recovery...but I'll leave it to you." He gave a nod at his cousins and Verne before turning and walking down the aisle to leave.

Ulrich lingered for a moment. He sighed, the stress somewhat easing from his body. "This is the second time I've had to see you so badly injured in such a short time, Jean," he said softly. "Please take care of yourself."

Jean kept his gaze forward. "I try."

It looked as if Ulrich was going to say more, but he let it go. He nodded at Verne, then walked down the aisle and past the double-doors.

As soon as he was gone, Jean shut his eye with a deep, tired exhale. "I'm not staying on bedrest."

There was a small chuckle from Verne. "Yes, I imagine so. I'll only give you one thorough checkup before allowing you to leave."

"Fine."

"I'm afraid you have no say in the matter, Jean."

"Yes, sir."

Verne went into his office to procure a cart with two shelves carrying things for a general checkup. Said checkup consisted of what any doctor would check for: blood test, blood pressure, vision, etc. By the time Jean was about to leave to wash up in the bathroom, Butch and Raphael were also beginning to awaken. He let Verne take care of them before entering the washroom.

He took a change of clothes and his boots that were left out for him, per the usual, inside. He intended to use the moment to contemplate.

As the water beat down upon his body, he idly ran a hand over the scar on his chest. It was almost the same sinewy texture as his skin. He could also feel that his eye wasn't completely closed, anymore. He was still healing much too rapidly. Placing a hand on the tiled wall, he softly exhaled.

What sort of thrice-accursed inhuman creature was that thing? He couldn't remember it but could remember bits and pieces that gave him enough of a reason to wonder. Then, that devil.

Devils weren't real, anymore. They couldn't be. They were sealed away over two thousand years ago. Yet, what else was it that he saw? Only devils supposedly had that exact description. The hooved feet were a dead giveaway. He unintentionally shuddered.

Shakily, he looked between his wet hair to stare at the wall. What was going on in Clovure? What the hell was happening in Clovuria?

He spent some time in the shower, thinking about what had happened and what he saw after awakening. What was Celezar up to?

And why the hell was Jean letting what he did earlier go so easily?

After a while, he washed up, then exited the shower. He dressed into the fresh clothes before entering the sickbay again. To his surprise, all of the men were awake.

Artie wore an expression mirroring confused irritation. He didn't say anything to Jean but did give his cousin a nod.

Jean returned it. "Good to see everyone alive," he stated, walking further into the room.

Verne came back from Lucas' bedside with several vials of blood in a vial holder upon his cart. "Hm, yes. I wonder why..."

"Who's side are you on, Verne?" Lucas snapped, looking entirely miffed as he sat with his arms crossed.

Not even looking at him or fazed by the remark, Verne walked towards his office. "The side that keeps my patients alive."

"Wha...?" Lucas blinked, then huffed and looked away.

Watching after Verne while he disappeared into his office, Jean considered this. But only for a moment. "Does anyone remember anything?" he asked.

"No," Lucas muttered.

"Nada," said Raphael, who was staring at the ceiling.

"Sorry, Boss," Trevor sighed.

Butch crossed his arms. "I wish I did."

Artie only grumbled.

Hugh looked confused. "I don't think I want to."

Understanding perfectly, Jean nodded while walking down the aisle. "Take it easy, men. Meet me in the antechamber once Verne gives you all the okay."

"Sent," came the chorus behind him.

He exited the sickbay to hear an argument in the antechamber, or close enough to it. He tilted his head to the side as he left the short hall, but no one was there. His gaze went to the window to see the outside.

It was a late afternoon by the look of things, almost evening. It was spring, so the breeze was a bit cool. From where he stood, he could see the open land of the isle and some water in the distance. He spotted his uncle Friedrich and a young woman dressed similarly to a hunter, both standing some distance from the outpost's entrance. Upon seeing her, he leaned on the doorway to listen to what was happening this time.

"For the umpteenth time, go back to the manor," said Friedrich, his voice tense with irritation.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "I'm one of the family's best alchemists. I can be useful if you give me a chance!"

"Alchemist or no, this isn't the right place for you!"

"Are you housing an inhuman for interrogation?"

"No?" He sounded confused.

"Then it should be alright!"

He raised a hand over his face. "Please, Elaine. I only let you in to see your brother. Don't make me regret that."

Her eyes flickered to look at Jean, who gave a careless shrug. Narrowing her eyes to the point that definition was impossible to make out, she spun on her heels and turned away with a loud sound of outrage.

There was a horse nearby, and she climbed onto it. In a few seconds, she was galloping away, but not towards the manor. Instead, she was heading towards the main port at the southwest of the isle.

Jean's lips tightened. Elaine, his painfully audacious older cousin. All she wanted was to be an inhuman hunter. But women in their family simply didn't do such things. Shaking his head, he came to Friedrich's side. "Looks like she's going to the mainland, again."

His uncle sighed. "Yes, and I always wonder if I should have one of the servants follow her." He then seemed to realize who he was speaking to and spun to look at Jean. "Wha—?"

"I'm fine, Friedrich." Jean patted his shoulder. "Seems like Celezar healed everyone. Unfortunately," he added on.

His expression darkening, Friedrich narrowed his eyes. "Did Verne check you?"

"Is that even a question?" Jean lowered his hand and turned to walk back into the outpost. Boots thumped behind him as his uncle followed.

"This isn't normal, Jean."

"I know."

He stopped when his uncle placed a hand on his shoulder and turned around. Electric blue eyes identical to his stared hard at him. At first, nothing was said, and he waited patiently for the older man to choose his words.

Friedrich removed his hand. "You should take some time off."

Scoffing, Jean didn't respond and walked away. Such words weren't in his vocabulary. Worse yet, it sounded to him that his uncle was trying to say he was currently unfit to lead. All the more reason to ignore him. He heard a huff of irritation but didn't bother. Irked and still confused from earlier, he didn't need his uncle's stern consternation tacked on to his emotions.

He entered his office. Dinner would be soon, and he wanted to check over the report before he ate. He only noticed the older man sitting at the desk when the brown eye looked up at him.

"Jean-Luc...!" Nicholae stood and swiftly moved around to approach his nephew. He didn't hesitate to give a hug, and Jean reciprocated it freely.

Before he could say something, Jean nodded. "I'm fine. I'm glad you're here, actually. I need to speak with you." He glanced at the bergères.

Nicholae clearly wanted to ask more questions, but he complied with sitting down. They sat beside each other, and Jean tilted forward in his seat.

"Celezar healed us." He stared forward. While he couldn't see his uncle's reaction, he imagined it was one of surprise.

There was a soft chuckle. "Why am I not surprised."

Or not. Jean's gaze went to the floor. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Indeed." Nicholae leaned forward, parroting Jean's pose. "It doesn't make a lick of sense...according to what we think of inhumans, that is."

Brows furrowing, Jean risked a quizzical glance up at his uncle.

Nicholae shrugged. "Celezar was one of us for six years. To our knowledge, he didn't have any ulterior motives, and we've all passed the tests checking for inhuman influence. So, then. Why did he save your lives?"

Jean softly huffed, but it was one of simple fatigue. There was a reason he liked talking to Nicholae instead of Artie. Unlike all members of his mother's family, Nicholae had a more experienced and unique view on the world. He simply knew things, things that would make every member of the Lowell family, including Jean, squirm uncomfortably or yell in outrage.

But Nicholae was a Redfield, his father's family. That made Nicholae...different.

Testing his limits, Jean heaved a heavy sigh while sitting upright. "He cares?" he asked with a bite of sarcasm.

Once more, Nicholae shrugged while glancing away. "Wouldn't exactly be anything new. He seemed to legitimately care greatly for you. For all of us. You two were like brothers."

Jean's jaw locked. He felt himself grow warm from self-consciousness. Trying to play it off for his own sake, he unhinged his jaw. "That means nothing. Inhumans have their ways to influence, to sway," he said, and he hated himself for it. He sounded like his mother, a terrifying thought. "Why would Celezar be an exception?"

All Nicholae did was stare at him. "You doubt it, though, don't you?" he asked softly.

"My own opinions don't matter against the truth."

"Do they?"

"If you're going to say something like that, how can you possibly continue to hunt?" Jean evenly argued.

Nicholae momentarily closed his eye, but when he opened it, he was looking away. His expression was a smooth, unfaltering mask. "See as much shit as I have and you manage to detach yourself from such things. This is simply a single case." He glanced back at his nephew. "If Celezar had done it only once, it would be one thing. Yet he did it for all seven of you, Jean, and twice for you alone. From all that he's done and managed to do, we have to consider how powerful he is, what he could have done but didn't. He has a spotless history with us. It gives me reason to pause."

Jean shook his head with disbelief while looking away. This wasn't what he needed to hear at the moment.

Holding his hands up, Nicholae relented. "But that's just my opinion. I'm merely telling you what I would consider if in your shoes."

Oh, Jean would love to see what Nicholae would do if he were in his shoes. He held back a strong scoff, opting to huff softly again instead.

Nicholae rested back on the armrest and exhaled. "So, then. The district is under lockdown. It's a damn shame those bodies—or remains, rather—are going to have to rot, likely being eaten by Creator knows what. But we don't have a choice. I saw the footage obtained from the men's cameras. It's shaky and unreliable after the appearance of the second creature before going black, but I saw enough to know it's nothing we've ever encountered before, even with all my thirty years as a hunter..."

When his uncle suddenly went silent, Jean glanced at him to see he was staring blankly at the floor. Steadily, however, Jean noticed signs of horror on the older man's face. "Nicholae?"

Startling, Nicholae looked at him, slightly pale and his eye disoriented.

Concerned, Jean placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Nicholae swallowed. "When I saw the footage...When we saw the footage...we all had nearly the same reaction as Artie, Hugh and Butch. Fear, Jean. It was...unnatural. Demanding."

His eye widening, Jean lowered his hand. He didn't know what to say in response but solemnly nodded with understanding.

Nicholae shifted in his chair. "Additionally...according to Ulrich, your magic didn't do anything to it. It was nullified, in fact. It is something far beyond any of our abilities. It may also be mated to the devil."

"What makes you say that?"

"In the footage, when the devil is climbing out of the apartment, its middle is visibly distended. I believe it's pregnant, which makes this attack ten times worse than it's become." Nicholae tapped the upholstery with his fingers as his expression darkened. "The second creature arrived almost immediately after Butch, Hugh and Artie attacked the devil. Since there wasn't another devil or other creature in the area, we can only cautiously assume the tall one is its mate. And we all know how dangerous mated pairs are."

Jean inclined his head in agreement. Even during normal hunts, hunters were leery of assumed or confirmed mated pairs. Infamous for their dire tenacity, the sire would give their life to protect their expectant or otherwise subservient mate. It wasn't common to find mated pairs, but what limited experience Jean had told him to be extremely wary.

If the devil was mated, horrendous as the thought was, to the tall creature...

He frowned at the thought of what sort of deranged offspring they would produce. From Celezar's reaction earlier, this new creature didn't seem to be of the Infernal variety. He called it an entity.

"That's why Holloway's getting involved," Jean said, his face carefully shifting to a neutral expression. "I'm so excited."

"It's necessary," Nicholae reminded. He cracked a small, understanding smile. "Try to get along with him."

Scoffing, Jean looked to the floor. He and the government inhuman hunter Caden Holloway hadn't seen each other in eight years, not since Caden departed from his group during a fall-out. Jean had hoped he wouldn't have to so much as consider the man again. "No promises."

Nicholae shifted again as he nodded. An exasperated expression then crossed his face. "On a lesser note, you can imagine your aunt Elise and your cousins wanted to come by and see Artie. Despite the norms, we let them."

Jean shrugged. He understood the circumstance. Women weren't normally allowed in the Cellar, either. "Saw some of it. How did it really go down?"

Nicholae smiled a bit. "Elaine was at it, again. She said this incident proves why she should learn how to fight. Said it's not too late; the usual spiel."

Shaking his head, Jean glanced back at the floor. "I don't think she should become a hunter. Not readily, anyway."

"Why not?"

"I'm fine with women becoming hunters. That's a given" Jean glanced up. "But women of this family just aren't cut out for it."

Nicholae was quiet for a moment. He then laced his fingers together. "That is likely because they were never given a chance to prove otherwise."

Brows slightly furrowing, Jean took this perceptive answer into consideration. He never once thought of it like that.

He was about to continue when a sudden commotion broke out in the antechamber. He and Nicholae stood at the same time, and Nicholae opened the door for them to enter the larger space.

All of the men were in the room, but several of them seemed to be in the middle of an argument. Robin, the youngest of them, appeared to be at the center of it, shouting and pointing at Friedrich while being held back by Musa.

"...and you of all people should be advocating for this!" he shouted.

Lucas stared at his younger brother in disbelief. "Are you serious? What the hell else are we supposed to do, remain on bedrest until this whole thing blows over?"

"Not fucking happening!" Hugh exclaimed in outrage. As he looked as if he was ready to strangle Robin, he was being held back by Gulliver.

Turning on his microphone, Jean shouted, "Enough!"

His voice rose over theirs, and they steadily quieted, albeit with grumbling. Hugh shrugged Gulliver off him, and the older man cast him a warning glance before turning to focus on Jean. Musa let go of Robin without being told and also looked at his leader.

Arms crossed, Jean's gaze swept over them. "What's all this about?"

Stepping forward, Robin didn't hesitate to explain. "I think something should be done about you who were healed by Celezar. What if he's done something to you?"

"Why should we if everyone's passed the tests?" Hugh immediately snapped. "The tests don't lie!"

"But this is Celezar, an unknown creature of an unknown calibre! We don't know what he's capable of!"

"You make good points," Jean acknowledged, turning the volume on his microphone to a normal setting. He stared hard at the younger man. "Don't like your attitude about it."

Robin went still, his eyes widening as he caught himself. He briefly glanced away while some of the other men cast him pointed looks.

Jean continued. "While on this topic, I truthfully don't know how you all have taken this situation with Celezar."

The room went pin-drop silent. Jean looked at each of his men, waiting for someone to talk. Their expressions told him enough, however. "Very well. You are disgruntled, confused, angry. We had an inhuman in our midst for six years."

Several nods were made as his men agreed with him. However, Friedrich had a sudden look of disdain in his eyes. "These things happen."

Raphael scoffed. "Do they really?" he asked in a surprisingly calm tone.

"The bonds hunters make aren't broken so easily," Jean said in support. He looked his uncle in the eye. "We laughed with him, cried with him, hunted with him...for six years."

"Yes. But these things do happen."

"Not for six years," Nicholae added.

Upon seeing the look of anger directed at the older veteran, Jean shook his head. Tensions in the room, and amongst his men, were abnormally high. The last time it was like this was seven years ago...

He briefly closed his eye, lingering on that day, before looking at Robin. "What do you suppose we do, then?"

The younger man blinked. He clearly hadn't expected to be asked such a question. "Well...I'm...not sure about everything else...but maybe you seven should be monitored...Something like that."

Near him, his brother raised his hands in outrage, shaking his head while staring at the ceiling. "That's fucking absurd. What do you think's going to happen? We sprout wings and a tail?"

"Technically, taking things into consideration, you could have something happen to you that is undetectable."

All eyes went to Verne, who stood against the wall near the sickbay. The doctor wasn't looking at them, his hand held underneath his chin in thought.

Calvin scoffed. "Not helping, Verne."

"I'm only considering the unknown."

"All the more reason you should keep your mouth shut," Lucas snapped with a glare.

"Whoa, whoa!" Trevor came between Verne and the younger man as Verne slowly looked up at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. To Lucas, Trevor said, "Let's not be vicious, here."

Robin rolled his eyes. "Listen, we're suddenly dealing with devils and gods knows what else. Can anyone see the logic?"

Once more, Jean nodded. "There's plenty of it." To them all, he said, "We truthfully don't know what we're up against. We barely know what's going on, in fact. If anyone thinks the seven of us should be monitored or should get regular checkups, I'm fine with that. In fact, I endorse it."

Hugh and Lucas huffed with deep exhales, but they didn't say anything.

A small silence overcame them, and Robin began to fidget. "Well...maybe not monitored..."

"Regular checkups are fine," said Verne, "as should be the general lookout for anything unusual. Do you agree, Jean?"

"Agreed." Jean returned his hard stare onto Robin and Lucas. They fidgeted underneath his gaze. "Mind yourselves, gentlemen," he enunciated.

Abashed, the twins' heads bobbed in understanding. "Sent, Boss," said Lucas.

"Good." Jean went to grab and don his coat, then began to walk towards the armory. "I'm going to the mainland."

"You just woke up," said Nicholae from behind him.

Jean waved a hand. "I need some fresh air."

He strapped himself down with his normal gear: Valk, Sieg, Hilde, and of course Ringe. Someone approached him from behind.

"Jean, you haven't even eaten."

Briefly closing his eyes, Jean wanted to ignore Friedrich, but didn't. He turned around to look past his uncle in the doorway to see most of the men were still in the antechamber, talking amongst themselves. Some fleeting glances were given to him, ones of worry. Not that worry, the type that suggested something was happening to him. It was a type of worry Jean couldn't quite discern just yet.

He wasn't going to stay around to figure it out.

To Friedrich, he said, "I'm not hungry."

The older man frowned. "Jean—"

"Friedrich..." Exhaling softly, Jean momentarily looked away. His gaze went to the large crest of the Lowell family—an emblazoned 'L' with a canine creature curled at its bottom with thorns—high on the wall between the side entrances to the armory. "This is...unlike anything any hunter has ever dealt with. I need some time alone," he admitted, returning his gaze to his uncle.

Slowly, Friedrich nodded in understanding.

The glimmer of wariness and concern was visible in the older man's eyes. Jean really couldn't blame him. They Lowells were raised to be wary of anything inhuman-related. Watching him for a moment, Jean then turned away and left through the back entrance. He passed the shooting range on his short trek to the horse stable at the left of the Cellar. As he walked, he softly huffed to himself while turning his microphone off.

He arrived at the stable that held a total of fifteen horses. There was wide, open grassland between the nearby forest and the outpost where they could roam.

As he approached, he spotted one of the servants glance up at him from where they were standing at the stable entrance before lowering their gaze with a bow. They appeared to be a middle-aged man wearing a stablehand's clothes. In the darkness of the late afternoon, his piercing, uncanny golden-yellow eyes almost shone, flashing at Jean.

For just a moment, Jean considered the older-looking man. Briefly, he was reminded of Celezar, which brought a thought into his mind he never considered before. What did Celezar think of the Lowells, who had inhuman servants while maintaining a legacy of killing inhumans? Now that he thought about it, what did the servants think of that...?

Such a strange thing to wonder. It never occurred to him before, not even during all of his previous thoughts of the servants over the years.

"Bring my horse." His words were met by another bow. He didn't have to bother with raising his voice.

"Right away, sir." The low, melodic voice was inhumanly beautiful. It was irritating.

The feel of the man's magical bond to Jean's blood tingled through his veins, becoming faint as the man moved away. Unintentionally, he shivered. Now the feeling of their bond bothered him even more as his thoughts once more returned to Celezar.

Instead of allowing the thoughts to overwhelm him while still on the isle, he told his mind he could wallow in them later. He watched as his horse Spider approached, led by the servant. He frowned at the realization that he hadn't a clue what the man's name was.

Why was this bothering him?

His frown deepening, he also decided to let the issue drop for the moment. Without acknowledgment, he took Spider's reins and briefly looked him over. His coat was a shining, dark brown, just as it should be. Humming his appreciation, Jean climbed onto him. He led Spider into a trot, and then a gallop, off towards the southwestern port. He needed to gather his thoughts. Alone, in a safe location.

Anywhere off Isle Veni was a safe location. With this thought in mind, he urged his horse to go faster.