Justice was a fickle thing in the Hollow Market. It slithered through the underground bazaar like a whisper, threading between honest traders, cutpurses, and relic merchants who swore on their mothers’ graves that the Abyss-touched trinket they were selling wasn’t cursed (it absolutely was).

But some crimes were too great to ignore.

And night wasn't over, Aether, Automaton of Justice, had set his sights on a beast among men. Or rather, a beast among beasts.

A creature so elusive, so mysteriously hairy, that even the most hardened criminals spoke his name in hushed tones.

The Walrus

With his unnaturally thick beard and impossible ability to disappear into thin air, he had evaded capture for far too long. That ended tonight.

The Hollow Market pulsed with its usual chaotic energy—street magicians peddled illusions, vendors shouted about their wares, and somewhere in the distance, an argument over the legitimacy of a so-called "dragon egg" was escalating into a full-blown brawl. Aether ignored all of it, his target was near.

His sensors had locked onto a disturbance in the natural order of things, a beard where no beard should be. He scanned the crowd, calculating movement patterns, checking heat signatures, analyzing fur density, and then, he spotted it. A massive shape, hunched over a crate of fish, grumbling in a voice like distant thunder.

There he was.

A walrus, a very large, very round, very heavily bearded walrus.

His tusks were curved like ornate daggers, his hide scarred from a thousand battles. And his beard—oh, his beard—was a thing of nightmares. It defied physics, cascading in impossible tufts of thick, icy fur that swayed slightly despite the lack of wind. Some said it could block a blade. Others whispered it had swallowed lesser men whole.

Aether had seen many things in his time. But this?

This was a mystery that needed solving.

"CRIMINAL IDENTIFIED," Aether boomed, landing directly behind the towering mass of blubber and mystery. "SURRENDER NOW."

The Walrus did not react.

Instead, he continued bartering with the fishmonger, inspecting a particularly large trout with the scrutiny of a scholar reviewing sacred texts.

Aether recalibrated.

"REPEAT: SURRENDER NOW."

The Walrus sighed. Slowly, deliberately, he turned.

And Aether was struck with a force he had not anticipated.

That beard

Up close, it was a nightmare of tangled impossibilities. Aether’s optics could not determine if it was fur, hair, or some kind of eldritch moss. It was so thick, so absurdly dense, that it cast its own shadow.

The Walrus snorted: "Mm. Machine."

Aether recovered quickly. "YOU HAVE EVADED JUSTICE FOR TOO LONG." The Walrus arched a single, bushy eyebrow. "I have?"

"CONFIRMED. YOU ARE WANTED FOR MULTIPLE INCIDENTS OF SMUGGLING, UNLICENSED FISH TRANSACTIONS, AND—"

Aether’s optics flickered as it hesitated.

There, in his files on Callistas most uncanny discoveries, sat the most damning charge of all. Aether braced himself.

"…BEARD FRAUD."

The Hollow Market fell silent as Aether remained unwavering. "REPORTS INDICATE YOUR BEARD SHOULD NOT EXIST."

The Walrus chuckled. A slow, deep sound—the kind that could shake glaciers apart. He leaned forward, massive tusks gleaming under the flickering frostglass lanterns. "Is that so?"

"YES."

"Well then," The Walrus said, stroking the monstrosity of hair that lived upon his face, "you’re welcome to prove it."

Aether’s optics whirred furiously.

He had examined thousands of structural anomalies. He had calculated complex physics. He had tracked down criminals using the most advanced technological processes ever devised. And yet—this beard defied all logic.

There were no seams. No adhesives. No signs of arcane tampering. It was, against all known science… real.

"IM… IMPOSSIBLE," Aether finally whispered as the Walrus grinned.

Aether ran every analysis available.

Nothing.

No fraud

No trickery

The beard was… genuine.

And worse still, The Walrus knew it. "Well then," the massive beast rumbled, giving the beard one last majestic stroke. "If you’re quite finished, I have dinner to attend to."

Aether locked up entirely.

He had lost, Justice… had been denied.

The Walrus turned back to the fishmonger, unconcerned, his massive bulk shifting as smoothly as a creature far too accustomed to avoiding consequences.

And Aether—Aether knew this would haunt him.

This case was not closed: One day, he would return. One day, he would solve the mystery. But for tonight?

The Walrus (and his unfathomable beard) waddled free.