Chapter 11: The Eerie Old Man

Words : 1748 Updated : Oct 11th, 2025

"No. Something's off." Jason Yare narrowed his eyes, sensing something immediately. The Black Energy clinging to the old man seemed stable, but a faint ripple flickered across its surface. A thread of Gray Energy-so thin you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it. Two distinct currents mingled there, Black overpowering Gray, holding it down. "Hiss…" Jason's scalp tingled. He recognized Gray Energy. He'd seen it at the military camp, and again on the elderly patient he'd just treated. It only shows up on someone when they're close to dying. But the old man looked perfectly healthy. How could he be giving off Gray Energy? Unless… the old man was already dead, and what was walking here was a body animated by Black Energy-a Walking Corpse. "No, no," Jason tapped his forehead, "that doesn't make any sense scientifically…" Smack! The thought had barely formed before he covered his face with a hand. He'd already inherited King Balam's Legacy, and he was still hung up on what science would say? He took a deep breath and tailed the old man from a distance. When they reached the lobby, the nurse on duty greeted him with a smile. "Mr. Ma, out for a late stroll?" The old man waved, his voice raspy. "Heading out to grab a bite. If someone gets brought in, give me a call." He walked out of the lobby. Jason waited a moment, then slipped out after him. By the time he got outside the hospital, the street had swallowed the old man whole. It was the middle of the night; there were hardly any pedestrians. There was no way he'd just lost him. Only two minutes had passed. Even if a young guy took off at a dead sprint, he wouldn't just disappear. Jason ran a hand through his hair, puzzled, then gave up and went back to the bench in the hospital. Settling in, he opened King Balam's Legacy, searching for a case like what he'd just seen. According to the Gaze Mantra in King Balam's Medical Manuscript and the Heavenly Eye Spell in the Talisman Manuscript: Pure Energy was Innate Vital Energy, the root of all living beings-their life force. Gray Energy was tied to the six realms of reincarnation, the end of all beings-death energy. Normally, a human body only showed those two. Anything beyond that was not normal. Black Energy marked the demonic and the aberrant. It should never appear on a human. If it did, that person was no longer human. "Forget it. I'll get closer next time and see for myself." Jason rubbed his brow, letting go of the urge to chase the mystery as a wave of sleep crashed over him. He slumped onto the bench and drifted off immediately. He didn't know how long he slept before the air around him suddenly turned cold. Ding-dong! Jason's eyes snapped open. He instinctively looked toward the elevators. He spotted the old man slipping into one. The doors slid shut. "Basement Level Two-the morgue?" he muttered. "Maybe he picked up the Gray Energy from spending too much time around the dead. But how do I explain the Black?" The nurse's greeting made it clear he worked at the hospital. Just then- Marlee Juggins rushed in, looking tired and on edge. Before Jason could ask, she blurted, "I've got to take you to the military camp right now. Listen, whoever you see later-if you don't want to answer, keep your mouth shut. Wait until my grandpa gets there." She grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the hospital. An hour later. At the foot of Drakon, in front of the military camp. Jason stepped out of the car. The sharp reek of realgar hung heavy in the air. Dozens of freight trucks lined up at the gate, loaded with silkie chickens and Dragonbane Brew. A massive tent had been set up at the entrance. As they stepped inside, a chorus of reprimands rang out from within. Marlee paused and leaned in. "Remember what I said. If you don't want to answer, keep quiet. Let my grandpa make the call." Jason grunted in agreement and followed her inside. The tent wasn't crowded. An old man sat in a chair; everyone else stood off to the side with their heads down. Jordan was among them. Marlee forced a smile. "Mr. Zorn, please don't get so worked up. It's not good for your health." The old man had brows like blades and eyes bright as stars, with a depth like a rain-washed night sky. Age had silvered his face, but his spirit was sharp as a drawn sword. "With your grandpa stirring things up like this, it's only a matter of time before he kills me with stress," he said. "That's not fair." Marlee stepped forward and thumped his shoulders lightly, coaxing, "He talks about how good you are every day. Says if it weren't for you, life on the border would be unbearably dull." He shrugged, unsmiling. "If he weren't so good at finding trouble, I wouldn't be stuck cleaning up after him all the time." "Uh…" Marlee could only give a strained laugh and work harder at his shoulders. Then the old man narrowed his eyes, his gaze locking onto Jason. In a heartbeat, Jason jolted as if struck by a live wire. Those eyes were knives, probing to the bone. Under that stare, all he felt was awe-nothing else. Pressure like that didn't come from an ordinary person. Jason forced himself upright, managed a weak smile, and nodded. "Decent-looking kid," the old man said flatly. Then his tone sharpened. "But he screams trouble." "Mr. Zorn!" Marlee's fist landed a little harder on his back, her face darkening. He gave a cold little laugh, unfazed. "Same mold as your grandpa." He flicked a hand. "All of you, out. He stays." As soon as he said that, Jordan let out a quiet breath and hustled the others away. As he passed Jason, he shot him a look that said, Take care. Marlee pouted, ready to protest, but the old man pinched her ear and shooed her out. Click. He lit a cigarette, settled back into his chair, and studied Jason. "Are you going to come clean," he asked in a low voice, "or do I need to take you somewhere else to talk?" Jason frowned, confused, and pointed to himself. "Me? Come clean about what?" "Your connection to the Vemhex Society." Jason froze. How did I get mixed up with the Vemhex Society? Come on, I don't even know what that is. He remembered what Ian Juggins had said to Caleb Shirvinton, and from the look on the old man's face then, it was clearly bad news. "I'm not with the Vemhex Society…" Jason blurted, anxious. "Sir, you can't just pin that on me." The old man gave a cold smile and stared at him, as if nothing could hide from him. "If you're not a member, how is it that there was just a hex poisoning at the camp, and you just happened to show up?"

Chapter 11: The Eerie Old Man

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