Luckily, everything was still focused on the Manus Vindictae guy, he ran as fast as he could to avoid being detected and got out of the main hall, where the other employees of the Foundation Paris worked. This was the headquarters where he had worked for a long time, it was not too unfamiliar but in the past 2 years because he had to work elsewhere so he was no longer here, everything had really changed too much. This raised a new concern about the security system when it could have been improved now.

Luckily, he was wearing the old Foundation uniform, although it still smelled quite bad from not being replaced for a long time. But he took a risk by blending in with the staff walking in the large main hall. (Regarding this, i would like to explain that for the past month or so he has only been interrogated and detained pending trial, but has not yet become an official prisoner, so he has not been issued clothes. He is still wearing the Foundation uniform because he has no other clothes to wear, but at the same time, his badge and rank have also been stripped from his uniform.)

Sure enough, no one suspected anything, they still didn't know anything about the newly expelled person, he still walked leisurely and passed the security guards in the lobby.

In fact, the Foundation's field agents always had such a distinctive smell, always had to go to many places, and hadn't showered for a long time, so everyone was used to it, and few complained. It even made the disguise more perfect and harder to detect.

But the outside door was more carefully guarded, and he needed to use the Foundation's badge to enter and exit, which had been taken away from him before being detained.

"(I guess I can't use this way)" [Anatole]

The crowd thinned out, and it was also office hours, so everyone had to return to the office. He didn't think much of it and still sneaked after these people, then he turned into another deserted path, which led to the warehouse.

A security guard was approaching, forcing him to reluctantly turn in. He also had the intention that he might be able to find something useful in there.

This place was originally just a storage place, it contained everything that the Foundation at this facility researched and preserved. Among them were quite a few Historical Artifacts with strange properties of Arcanum inside it.

Of course, for someone who used to do historical research like Anatole, it was not uncommon for him to stop by here.

He slowly pulled the door open and closed it tightly. Just as he had guessed, almost no one would come here during office hours, and it would be difficult to come here if there was nothing really important. However, this place was not very tidy, many antiques were stored in foam boxes or wrapped in tape and piled up there after being studied. They were piled up about 10 meters high, so high that it took the Arcane skill of the warehouse manager to take them out. All of these boxes were neatly numbered, named, information and identification coded.

While he was still admiring the antiques, the door suddenly opened. He quickly hid behind a shelf. About 2 Employees walked inside, one of them holding what looked like a wrapped sword in his hand.

"This damn thing, it's really nothing to worry about, you see, it doesn't have any Arcanum? Because of it, my hand got cut off!" [Employee]

The guy held his bandaged hand, looking pained.

"I thought why not just throw it in the warehouse from the beginning, it would have been easier." [Employee]

He placed the sword haphazardly on a nearby shelf.

"Just leave it here, the warehouse manager will probably take care of it later, our work is done." [Employee]

"Hey, I remember that warehouse manager just quit last month, we still haven't recruited a new one, I heard that this girl has some kind of psychological trauma..." [Employee]

His body froze when he heard this news, he slowly took out an old token from his pocket that he had hidden very carefully inside and looked at it for a while.

Flashback to about a month ago:

When the "Storm" hit, when everything seemed to stand still, a man who was in the process of transforming from Storm Syndrome still unconsciously reached out his hand, on his open hand was a small token that looked like a child's toy, but Anatole understood that it was an extremely important thing to him just like friends understand each other. Before his body was almost completely transformed, Anatole grabbed the badge in his hand, he put it in his pocket in the deepest compartment. He didn't cry, couldn't cry anymore, he was filled with helplessness. He was not unfamiliar with death but this time it was so close.

"Repose en paix mon ami (Rest in peace my friend)." [Anatole]

Present:

"(She quit her job? Well, that's difficult, I wonder what other memento she received from her late brother in the past month. I'm sorry Jean, but it's not possible right now.)" [Anatole]

He put it back inside.

"Never mind, I don't think there's anything else to do now, we've already packed this sword, just add a numbered sign and it'll be done." [Employee]

"Okay, then, when Laplace's researchers come over and want to take it, they can do it." [Employee]

Suddenly, an alarm sounded.

"Attention! Security personnel and those with duties, immediately report to Detention Area C! Repeat, immediately report to Detention Area C! Those who are not on duty, absolutely stay where you are or evacuate as instructed by the security personnel, thank you!" [Speaker announcement]

"What's going on?" [Employee]

The two employees immediately left the warehouse and went outside.

Anatole stepped out, he approached the packed sword. It was probably quite useful for self-defense, he only knew how to use a sword at a basic but it was better to have a weapon than nothing.

"(Well, those lazy people really didn't pack it properly, they even forgot to write a name tag or a code number, next time they won't know where to find it.)" [Anatole]

He slowly opened the carelessly wrapped layers of paper, a familiar image gradually appeared before his eyes...

"(This...this is...?!)" [Anatole]

A sword appeared before his eyes, with a familiar look and a delicate gold-plated design. A sword that attracted people with its flashy appearance that exuded authority and solemnity as if it could be displayed in any luxurious palace or a prestigious museum. That appearance made people even more curious about what was hidden behind it.

Anatole had to look at it for a long time, to others it was just a beautiful and mysterious sword, but to him it was also the value of time, a witness to History. How many battles had it gone through? How many unfortunate people have fallen before its sharp blade? All of it was from the things he loved the most, not because of work anymore. If others were afraid, he would just accept it without hesitation. Above all, it was the result of the lives of his comrades.

The moment he grabbed the hilt, a strange electric shock-like feeling ran through his body. He then slowly lifted it up, slowly drawing the sword out.

The blade was sharp and shiny, as if it had just been forged, despite being confirmed to be nearly 200 years old. This feature was almost rare for any antique if they were not well preserved over such a long period of time. The weight of about 2 kilograms made it even less flexible in combat because it was originally a sword for cavalry on horseback. However, it was designed for the Dragoons, a cavalry unit during the Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815) that could fight both on horseback and on foot. It was majestic in appearance but also difficult for people with normal physiques to use.

Suddenly, a loud noise like something was thrown and hit hard rang out. The shouts from outside caught Anatole's attention, he quickly grabbed his sword and stepped outside.