Once dressed, he slipped on a layer of Kevlar body armor. A series of magical glyphs adorned the vest, supposedly offering protection against black magic. Much good it had done against Necron’s attacks. A studded belt crossed his massive chest, holding fast his scabbard behind his powerful right shoulder. As a final touch, he donned a black trench coat, which would allow him to move among civilians without drawing undue attention. Regarding his reflection in the changing room’s mirror, he found he looked identical to the other hunters under Nyssa’s command but for one crucial difference—a demon resided within this monster hunter. Artan buttoned up the coat and stepped out of the changing room. The computer team was busy monitoring the bank. Data and images slashed across the screens as they probed the mystery of Rhianna’s cryptic message. “Did you learn anything new?” Artan asked Nyssa in a sober voice. “Did any of your men make it out of the museum alive?” “Some of them were taken to the hospital.
