“Well done,” Fredric said, slowly clapping his hands. “Quite a show you put on. But are you certain that much was necessary?” he asked.

“Yes,” Zeke replied. “That man was a thug, a criminal, an abuser, and a killer. Those types only speak one language, with threats for letters and strikes for symbols. There is no authority that they respect above power. And now I have shown them mine,” Zeke retorted, leaning on the bar, lacing his fingers together in front of his face.

“Most impressive,” Calisto remarked. “Boar has a reputation for being quite a sturdy combatant. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I never would have believed that a freshly minted contractor could beat someone like that,” she added, wiping her glass in a steady rhythm.

Fredric laughed. “You know, he could’ve handled Boar even if he wasn’t a contractor.” Leaning in toward Calisto, he whispered, “What you witnessed was an example of what happens when a human as talented as that becomes one.” As he locked eyes with her, his gaze was so cold it sent a shiver through her entire body. Though she couldn’t explain it, she knew: in that instant, Fredric was like a fox gazing upon a helpless rabbit. His hunger radiated outward, infecting her thoughts and making her shudder.

“Now,” Fredric cleared his throat, snapping himself and Calisto out of that unsettling moment. “I think it’s high time you explain to our little rookie how District 7 functions,” he said with a sigh.

For a second, Calisto appeared confused, almost disoriented, before quickly regaining her composure.

“Right,” Calisto began, clearing her throat. “As you might have already noticed, the Undercity is a hotbed of industry—primarily farming and ore extraction. The city depends heavily on corporations based here. In fact, these corporations are the main reason why the Undercity is so densely populated. The odds are, if you see a product on a shelf in Lower Babel, it was either produced here or had components sourced from here.”

“And yet, nobody up top even suspects the Undercity exists,” Zeke sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. “It’s treated like an urban legend, even though so many of their needs rely on it.”

“As long as they have comfort, food, and technology, those above ground rarely question where it all comes from,” Fredric explained.

“Isn’t that sad?” Zeke wondered. “Like caged animals, unaware of their own limits.”

“Us contractors are already caged animals,” Fredric remarked.

“What do you mean?” Zeke asked.

“Never mind—it’ll make sense to you in time,” Fredric replied, clasping his hands and stroking them gently, as if calming himself.

Zeke shot him an annoyed look, his brow creasing in frustration.

“Let us continue, then,” Calisto interjected, steering the conversation back on track. “There are five primary corporations ruling the Undercity: Koribon, Novatech, Heartmend, Nimid’s, and Harvest.

“Koribon focuses on mining, heavy machinery, and vehicle production. If a factory’s built, it probably uses Koribon equipment. They also handle firearms and weapon distribution.

“Novatech handles household electronics and computers. Practically any new technology that appears usually goes through Novatech in some form. They produce Knight equipment, too.

“Heartmend deals with pharmaceutical products and drugs.

“Harvest is about livestock and food, housing many smaller companies under its umbrella. It functions more like a trade union or regulatory body than a typical corporation.

“Nimid’s is an expansive conglomerate dabbling in everything from resource harvesting to medicine, but its primary revenue streams come from banking and information services,” Calisto explained.

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“That’s all interesting, but why do I need to know this to oversee District 7?” Zeke asked.

“Because,” Fredric mumbled, “District 7 is the hub for all these corporations. Most of their executives live here, and major logistics get coordinated here.”

“And it’s not only corporations,” Calisto added. “Gangs also shape how these businesses interact, often serving as private armies the corporations employ for leverage.”

“A shame,” Zeke sighed. “So down here, it’s basically the same as above—minus the self-righteous posturing. Gangs, corporations, militias: they’re all trying to outdo each other in violence. I find it sickening.” He clenched his fist. “The nauseating sight of mothers and children crying, hungry and abandoned. The world placed them here, then ignored them. I don’t see any reason to hold back, so let me say it clearly,” he declared, standing and glaring toward the far corner of the pub. “From the moment I take over, there will be no gangs left in District 7,” he shouted, then strode away from the bar, his expression fixed.

“So, what do you think?” Fredric asked, and though his face was partially obscured by his mask, his voice carried a hint of a smirk.

“He’s better than I expected,” Calisto muttered, wearing an unnaturally rigid smile that looked almost plastic.

Zeke kept walking, eyes locked on two figures seated at a table in the dimmest corner of the place. He recognized them immediately: two former enemies and contestants in the Cradle of Fools tournament—Antonio and Hanna.

“Look who it is,” Hanna said, noticing Zeke as he neared.

Antonio glanced up, pupils dilating. For a split second, he thought he saw Haze standing there. But it was just his mind playing tricks. Instead, he saw someone he had recently viewed as an enemy, wearing his parents’ mask.

“Where did you get that?” Antonio growled at Zeke.

“I wonder,” Zeke replied in a cold, robotic voice, glaring back at him.

“Give… give it back,” Antonio stammered.

“I will not,” Zeke said flatly, staring down at both of them.

Antonio tried to lunge, but before he could stand, Hanna grabbed his shoulder and whispered, “Not here, not now.”

She studied Zeke, scanning him from head to toe.

“Besides, can’t you tell?” she asked, easing Antonio back into his seat. “He’s become terribly troublesome.”

“Troublesome,” Zeke repeated, pausing in thought. “How disappointing that you see me like that.”

“Why? Would you rather kill us?” Antonio asked.

“No, I don’t hold any grudge against you,” Zeke said.

“That’s a surprise!” Hanna piped up with a smile. “Even though we never really talked, you always seemed the vengeful type. And sure, the two of us didn’t directly kill your friends, but we definitely helped bring about their deaths.”

“None of that matters now,” Zeke murmured, eyes tinged with sadness.

“How so?” Hanna inquired.

“Because, no matter how many times I tell myself some arbitrary revenge will fix everything, I know it won’t,” Zeke groaned. His voice grew heavy, his gaze turning cold and emotionless.

“Well, how can you know?” Hanna teased with a flirtatious undertone. “I’m sure it’d make sense in your twisted logic—or does it have something to do with Ludwig?” She smirked, leaning toward him.

Zeke backed up a bit.

“It does,” he said, eyes briefly drifting to the bar’s exit.

“Did you really…” Antonio muttered, “kill him?”

“No,” Zeke replied, smiling faintly with his eyes. “But I took my useless revenge more than once,” he added, his fist unwittingly clenching.

He looked at the door again, and for an instant, it felt like someone walked in—messy, outgrown, faded-blue hair wafting in a nonexistent breeze. Yet that, too, was nothing but another empty mirage. The ghost of regret pulled at him, gnawing at his heart with relentless force.

“So… what next?” Hanna asked, her smirk faltering. As she lifted her gaze to Zeke, her face showed worry, as though he were a wild beast unpredictable enough to snap at any moment.

“Nothing,” he said, sorrow darkening his eyes as he gazed at Hanna with a broken, exhausted look overflowing with hatred and self-loathing.

“Don’t pretend to be a sheep, wolf!” Antonio hollered, jumping to his feet and drawing the attention of onlookers nearby. “It won’t take you long to get over this, and when you do, you’ll go back to killing without a thought, like the monster you are!” he yelled. “I see it in your eyes—even now—a savage brutality only briefly held in check by guilt and pity,” he growled. “So cut the bullshit and give me that mask.”

“You might be right,” Zeke admitted softly, “yet I don’t want to be a monster. I’d rather be a hero, on my own terms. And so I’ve decided I will no longer treat human lives as disposable. I’ll value them and let them grow, even if their owners don’t,” Zeke said quietly, staring back at Antonio’s rage-filled eyes.

“And about the mask,” Zeke continued, gripping it in his hands. “I can’t give this to you. But I will give you something else.” Stepping closer, he leaned near Antonio’s ear. “Your master still lives,” he whispered.

He backed off, leaving Antonio standing numbly, a single tear plopping onto the grimy floor.

“What now?” Zeke asked.

“I’m not sure; it’s not like we can just leave,” Hanna answered.

“You should stick around in District 7,” Zeke suggested.

“Oh?! And why would we do that?” she asked.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the new boss,” Zeke said, walking back toward the counter. “I’m sure you’ll love what I do with the place.”