You've survived your probation, Agent. Most wash out before they banish their first demon. You've earned the rank of Sleuth. Don't let it go to your head.

Five cases closed. You're getting the hang of the spectral trace. Keep it up.

You're seeing the patterns now. The spectral trails, the lies, the glamour. You're operating with a higher clearance level. Congratulations, Private Eye.

Ten confirmed banishments. You're becoming a reliable asset to this Bureau.

The Aristocracy knows your name now. That makes you a target, but it also makes you a threat. Wear the badge of Investigator with pride.

Twenty-five artifacts returned to their rightful place. The Aristocracy is starting to feel the pinch.

I've only seen a handful of agents reach this level in my career. You aren't just following the Protocol anymore; you *are* the Protocol. Congratulations, Ace.

Fifty cases. That's a lot of paperwork you've generated, Agent. But it's also a lot of history saved. Good work.

Seventy-five. You're dismantling their collection one piece at a time. I suspect they have a bounty on your head by now.

One hundred cases closed. You are a machine, Agent. A relentless, demon-hunting machine. The Bureau salutes you.

One hundred and twenty-five. I remember when you were just a rookie trying to figure out the database. Look at you now.

One hundred and fifty. At this rate, we might actually empty the Underworld's vaults before the millennium turns.

Two hundred cases. You don't sleep, do you? Good. Neither does evil.

Two hundred and fifty. You are a legend in these halls, Agent. If I ever retire, I know who's taking my chair.