Prologue

Drip... Step... Drip... Step...

The rhythmic sound of my blood dripping onto the cold concrete floor echoes through the empty corridor, a morbid metronome marking each step I take. My name? David. No last name because no one ever bothered to give me one. Faceless in a crowd, unremarkable, just another guy. Scars crisscross my body like an intricate roadmap of my past, each one telling its own story, bearing witness to the battles fought and won. I've never been particularly handsome or tall, but I never give up. How did I find myself in this strange place, bleeding everywhere, being chased by a crazed group of murderous psychos? It all has to do with my job. Ever since I can remember, I've had the gift - or curse - to see and interact with the unseen world. Just yesterday, I saw a manically grinning imp shit in a woman's coffee right before she drank it. She spat her coffee out everywhere, going full Karen on the bistro staff, proclaiming they made her drink wrong. That's just another day in my life. These things are invisible to most people but that doesn't mean they don't affect them. In general, the unseen world likes to remain that way, hidden from sight. I do odd jobs involving dealing with the unseen world for a living. Some are worse than others. The worst one I've done was probably de-haunting a house after a demon orgy took place. Never again will my sense of smell and taste suffer through such an experience. My life isn't all glamor, but it keeps me fed and gives me purpose. I've been mostly successful at this line of work, now the opportunity I was waiting for has finally arrived - the opportunity of a lifetime. It's time to put all my experience to the test. No matter what challenges lie ahead, I won't back down. I'm David, the guy currently bleeding everywhere, and today, I face my greatest challenge yet.

Prologue

My name? David. No last name because no one ever bothered to give me one. Faceless in a crowd, unremarkable, just another guy. Scars crisscross my body like an intricate roadmap of my past, each one telling its own story, bearing witness to the battles fought and won. I've never been particularly handsome or tall, but I never give up. And apparently, I am a mage. I guess I kind of knew that already, but not really. Ever since I can remember, I've had the gift—or curse—to see and interact with the unseen world. Not an uncommon ability for the more permanent residents of Undercity to possess. I didn’t realize I was even special until I visited Earth for the first time, where I stumbled upon a group of small, winged creatures resembling bats but with the faces of elderly women. I stopped and watched them while everyone else around me carried on, seemingly oblivious to the scene unfolding before them. They were engaged in a lively argument over the finest tea leaves in town—quite an unusual debate for beings so diminutive and seemingly insignificant. As I watched from afar, one of them caught my eye and winked before flitting away into the night sky, leaving me to wonder about their purpose and intentions within the strange new city.

In addition to my ability to see the unseen, I possess some affinity for magic—albeit on a much smaller scale than the grandiose displays often associated with those who wield such power. Nothing as impressive as flying or casting lightning bolts; no, my gifts were far more subtle and nuanced. I couldn't heal others of their wounds, but that didn't mean I was entirely helpless in a fight. One such talent involved affecting the sight of others—manipulating what they saw and how they perceived reality around them. It was as simple as reaching out with my mind and adjusting their perception just enough to throw them off balance or create an opening for me to strike. And believe me, I had taken full advantage of this skill in countless fights against various foes who underestimated the danger posed by someone like me—a seemingly ordinary individual hiding behind a facade of weakness. Over the years, I had learned to use my unique abilities to my advantage, honing them into deadly weapons capable of turning the tide in my favor.

I’m not from Earth, at least not in the conventional sense. I was born in Undercity and fled to Earth one day when I was out of options. I didn’t plan on going back to Undercity; I didn’t think it was possible if I wanted to keep my head on my neck. I made a decent enough life for myself on Earth, doing jobs that involved my particular gift for various secret societies and shadowy organizations that were in a constant power struggle for control over the world. Occasionally, word of their antics got out, giving rise to rumors about the Illuminati and other such groups. But the truth was far more complex than that—a tangled web of schemes and hidden agendas playing out behind closed doors, away from prying eyes. In reality, the real movers and shakers of the world had been in control for centuries, using governments as tools to be manipulated according to their own whims. These were the secret societies that ran things—a shadowy cabal of individuals who believed power and control was their birthright.

This was nothing strange to me; after all, I had grown up in Undercity. Ever wonder what a place that has everyone's desire looks like? Welcome to the Undercity. The most dangerous and fascinating city you will probably never return from. Whatever you’re looking for, Undercity has it—just don’t cry when it's not what you expect. Sorry, no refunds; it doesn’t matter that the love potion made them so obsessed they stopped eating. Don’t cry on the way out; everyone will just point and laugh. The Undercity is a place but has no location. Every reality and plane is connected to it somehow. Meaning you're just as likely to see a panhandling elemental down on their luck as you are a legendary knight of the round table riding his horse down the street in full regalia. Everyone who's anyone has been to the Undercity for one reason or another. Occasionally, normal people can find themselves in the Undercity; the smart ones leave, hopefully still with a soul.

The Order of Magi was a collective of mages well known for recruiting and training promising individuals, with a perpetual desire to outshine their rival magic collectives. A long time ago, I took the drastic step of ending my father's life, a member of the Order. In response, they dispatched Alison to track me down. As I wasn’t eager to find out what they wanted, we played a never-ending game of cat and mouse, earning the respect of one another—not as friends, but as a foe worth chasing, or running from in my case. My last job ended up with me back in Undercity; and on death's door. I agreed to turn myself in to the Order of Magi. In exchange, they helped clean up the mess I found myself in. It all worked out well enough—the alien invasion of the Xylothor was repelled, and I managed to stay alive in the process. As for what the Order of Magi wanted, well, for some reason, they offered a forceful invitation to join their ranks and be trained as a mage. My life isn't all glamor, but it keeps me fed and gives me purpose.