Chapter 195: Phasing, Pages, And The Past

Kane glanced at the empty containment unit, then back at Rina.

"Remember when you were under the influence of those binding agents? You could dissolve through walls, pass through solid matter like it didn’t exist."

Rina’s eyes widened. "You think someone used the same principle?"

"The containment fields are designed to stop conventional spirit energy and physical intrusion. But if someone could phase through matter at a molecular level..." Kane gestured at the intact wards. "They’d leave no trace."

Just like how they took me from Cyrus’s penthouse, Kane thought, his hand unconsciously moving to where his pendant should be.

Those intruders didn’t breach the dragon wards—they phased right through them. Elias’s men have perfected what happened to Rina by accident.

"That’s highly advanced manipulation," Rina said slowly. "The kind of control I had was unstable, barely manageable. To do this deliberately would require—"

"—extensive experimentation on spirits with specific affinities," Kane finished.

"The BSA database might have records of spirits with rare phasing abilities," he continued. "But those powers are so uncommon, most cases would be classified as anomalies rather than documented abilities."

Rina nodded, her enhanced senses already picking up trace energies in the empty containment unit.

"I can cross-reference incident reports with unusual manifestation patterns. Look for spirits who’ve displayed molecular manipulation or matter phase capabilities."

"Can you access the restricted files without raising flags?"

"My clearance got upgraded after the... mountain vacation incident." Rina’s smile was knowing.

"Commander Qi signed off on enhanced forensics access. He thinks I’m being extra thorough after my ’traumatic experience.’"

Kane felt a flicker of relief. At least one advantage had come from their ordeal.

"I’ll help where I can," Rina said. "But Kane—if Elias has perfected this technology, nowhere is truly secure anymore."

Kane’s fox ears flattened against his head.

"That’s exactly why we need to move fast. Elias is definitely planning something big—that lab we raided is probably just the tip of the iceberg."

"Agreed. If he can phase through any security system, he’s had access to places we can’t even imagine."

Kane pushed away from the empty containment unit, his mind racing through possibilities. Each one worse than the last.

"I’ll head to the BSA library, see if I can dig up anything." Kane paused at the lab door. "Text me updates, yeah? And Rina—"

"I know. I’ll be careful. No solo heroics."

Kane nodded, then headed for the elevator. He exited the BSA headquarters through the rear entrance, following the covered walkway to the archive building.

The Spirit Research Library sat tucked behind the main complex—a converted Victorian mansion with towering windows and ivy-covered walls.

Unlike the sterile government building, this felt welcoming, designed for spirits who needed specialized resources.

Kane pushed through the heavy oak doors, and was immediately hit by the familiar scent of old parchment and brewing tea.

The vast space stretched before him—three stories of polished marble floors, carved wooden shelves reaching impossibly high ceilings, and soft golden light filtering through stained glass windows depicting various spirit clans in peaceful coexistence.

It should have been beautiful. It was beautiful.

Kane’s stomach still twisted every time he walked in.

Spirits of all kinds occupied the reading alcoves: a group of water nymphs huddled over anatomy texts, their blue-tinted skin shimmering under the lamplight; a young phoenix carefully turning pages with taloned fingers; several fox spirits like himself clustered around strategy manuals, their ears twitching with concentration.

This place represented everything Kane had fought to achieve—and everything he’d barely scraped by to earn.

He’d spent countless nights here during his BSA training, cramming for exams that seemed designed to prove he didn’t belong.

Constitutional law, spirit rights precedents, containment protocols, tactical analysis—subjects that came naturally to spirits from established families but felt like climbing mountains in concrete shoes for a street fox with gaps in his education.

Kane had claimed the same corner table every night, surviving on vending machine coffee and stubborn determination.

While other trainees formed study groups, Kane had taught himself to read legal texts, memorized procedure manuals, and practiced writing reports until his hand cramped.

Now he walked those same marble floors as Agent Ashwood, but the imposing shelves still made him feel like that desperate trainee who’d barely passed his final exams.

Kane trailed his fingers along the familiar wooden banister as he climbed to the second floor. ℯℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

He passed the history wing first—towering shelves of thick volumes detailing centuries of spirit treaties and realm migrations.

Kane slowed at the linguistics aisle, running a hand across the spines of books written in ancient runes. Spirit Grammar of the Second Age, The Syntax of Divine Tongues, Vocal Harmonization in Hybrid Spirits.

Once upon a time, he’d struggled just to pronounce the words correctly. Now he could translate half of them by instinct.

"Still the same smell," he murmured.

He took a detour down the general reading wing—the section that had kept him sane during training.

The titles were eclectic: mythologies, mortal literature, and the occasional novel written by spirits who had decided fiction was a safer way to tell the truth.

Kane’s steps slowed as his gaze landed on a familiar shelf. The fantasy fiction section.

He smiled.

There it was—Tales of the Wandering Kitsune.

The same edition he’d hidden behind when he was supposed to be studying for tactical exams. He pulled it free, the faded cover soft with age.

"I must’ve read you a dozen times," he murmured, brushing his thumb over the embossed fox on the front.

The story had been ridiculous and heartfelt—about a trickster fox who traveled the mortal world collecting stories in exchange for favors. The ending had always stuck with him: Even tricksters need a home to return to.

He closed the book and placed it back.

Then a smaller book on the bottom shelf caught his eye.

The Majestic Myths of Dragons: Separating Fact from Fantasy.

The cover illustration was laughably wrong—a Western-style dragon with stubby wings, breathing cartoonish fire while hoarding gold coins.

Kane smirked, picking it up. "Oh, Cyrus would love this."

He flipped it open, scanning a passage:

It is said dragons were once the guardians of balance, but as mankind’s myths grew, they faded into legend—symbols of power, pride, and vanity.

"Pride and vanity, huh?" Kane murmured with a grin. "Accurate enough."

He continued to skimming through the pages, but something about the page numbering was odd. There was jagged, uneven cuts near the back.