Ethan stands alone before Kyle's pyre atop a flat rock in the vast desert. The flames cast a flickering light over the desolate landscape, where only the distant glimmers of boats and planes can be seen. He left his phone in the car, hoping to be truly alone, free from anyone’s prying ears.

A knot tightens in his chest, but his face remains stoic. Russ, lying nearby, whines softly as he half-heartedly gnaws on a camel's bone.

"Kate survived… we both did thanks to you," Ethan begins, his voice breaking the silence. "One had potions that healed her, and now she's resting with a view of the sea. And One had to leave; he didn't want Tombstone angrier than she must already be."

Ethan stands motionless, the words spilling out into the solitude of the desert. "I always kept my distance, you know?" he says, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "It was easier that way. I thought getting too close meant having something to lose. I convinced myself that it was the only way to avoid getting hurt again."

He pauses, his throat tightening. "But it disturbs me that I don't feel much of anything. You are the first of us I've seen die, and yet I felt nothing but seconds of rage," Ethan admits. "This isn't right. I should be overwhelmed with pain, sorrow, or even hatred. But all I have is a vague knot in my heart."

"Standing here… I realize how little I knew of you. It wouldn't have made things more painful; my heart is too cold for that," Ethan says. He approaches as the flames die down. He takes a deep breath, the hot air filling his lungs. "I'm sorry I didn't try to know you better. Maybe if I had, I would have realized earlier that you weren't ready, and you might still be alive."

The fire dwindles as Ethan replays the mission in his mind, imagining it without Kyle, only to conclude that if it wasn’t Kyle, it might have been Kate. Ethan lets out a bitter laugh. "Listen to me," he mutters, shaking his head as if to dispel his thoughts. "Who am I kidding? It's not like I'd suddenly let Kate or Tombstone in, not like I'd break down those walls. She might lose interest if I did anyway."

He paces around the dying ember. He stops, staring down at the last remnants of Kyle's pyre; the flames are now nothing more than faint glows. "Tombstone told me your father is still alive and that you kept in contact. It won't be easy for him, but we'll tell him you were killed in a fire. We couldn’t let your body out of our supervision; protocols, you’d understand."

Ethan carves the mark of the goddess of death along the stone. "I don’t know which god you prayed to, if any. But if Maelor’s memory serves me right, this should protect your soul from necromancers and other fuckery. … I’ll let you rest now."

Ethan turns away as the ashes are swept away by the wind. He enters his car just as his phone buzzes. He picks up.

"Is it done?" Tombstone asks, her voice weary even through the voice changer.

"Yes," Ethan confirms, the word rasping in his throat. "I'm going back to check on Six."

"The higher-ups finished discussing your report," Tombstone says. "It seems they’ve finally realized how much our world has changed. The whole world has. … They’re thinking of bringing everyone home to focus on the system and its dungeons, even if it will cost us a fortune in delayed contracts."

"I’ve only seen posts and news about the bombs. But how are things on our side? Did we get exposed?" Ethan asks.

"Our system caught a few blurred footages taken by witnesses in the yard. But they were purged from social media and their phones. You can thank Cypher for that," Tombstone replies. "I’ve read a few police reports, but they couldn’t describe any of you with any accuracy."

"Good," Ethan says. "That was a mess. Share my apologies with Cypher; he must be working around the clock to cover everything."

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"We both are. We’re trying to pin the bombs on China," Tombstone says. "The local government is already questioning them anyway. They fear being dragged down with them as they authorized their intervention."

"Sorry," Ethan says. "Did you find anything on Tatiana’s potential son?"

"It appears her child is battling an unknown illness in the U.S.," Tombstone informs Ethan. "His symptoms began four years ago, around the time she started working for your target."

"I assume it’s safe to say the Plague Merchant may have poisoned him," Ethan says. "She mentioned a bank account she wanted her son to inherit. You must have a lot on your hands, but when you have the time, could you look into it? That was her dying wish."

"If only Four hadn’t taught you to respect them… The account is empty," Tombstone says. "It seems someone drained many of the funds related to the Plague Merchant."

Ethan’s throat tightens. "How much was in there?" he asks.

"Around three million," Tombstone informs with a detached tone. An account report appears on his screen, showing the last transactions draining the funds.

Ethan falls silent, staring at it for a moment. He brings the phone back to his ear. "Take that amount out of my pay for the Plague Merchant and use that instead. … It isn’t much after all."

He hears her sigh through the phone. "I will."

"If that’s everything, I’ll drive back to Six’s hotel," Ethan says.

"I had a hit on Christopher Hayes; he still looks exactly like his portrait," Tombstone informs. "He landed a private plane in Turkey and left alone. I lost him in a rental car, driving southeast near the frontier of Iraq."

Ethan’s heart pounds in his chest. "Then I might be going there after leaving Six," he says.

"Iraq is a big country, even if it’s mostly empty," Tombstone says. "I’ll tell you when I find more on him, but for now, you’ll probably both be called back home. Good night, Five."

'She’s right; finding him in this desert will take an eternity. I should check in with Cole before going back to base,' Ethan thinks. The call ends, and Ethan starts the engine. He opens the passenger seat, and Russ, who was waiting behind, leaps in.

Ethan pushes open the door of the hotel where he left Kate, finding her at the farthest edge of the bar. Russ walks off to a dark patch of grass outside, nibbling on his bone. Only a few patrons are present, eating their dinner as they watch the news.

"The latest reports estimate the number of victims to be as high as sixty thousand," the TV chatters. "Rescue teams are still unable to enter the center. The Ether there destroys drones and specialized robots in mere seconds. Here are images of the scene with our local reporter."

The bartender switches the channel, struggling to find one that doesn’t speak of the tragedy. He settles on a soccer game and places down the remote.

Ethan sits down beside Kate and flashes predator's sight to ensure that no one is paying attention to them. "How’s your head?" he asks, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

"Just a small scar," she answers. "It’s my leg that got the big one. Who would want me now?"

Ethan puffs at her remark. "I’m sure you’ll find a way to remove it if you want to. A light Ether crystal would suffice; I should have kept one of those."

The bartender approaches and pours a glass of whiskey for Ethan. The man is visibly tired and sad. He leaves without a word and returns to cleaning glasses.

"I thought spirits were prohibited here," Ethan remarks as he sips the glass.

"They loosened the regulation for foreigners. And tonight, everyone is drinking," Kate says. "Don’t beat yourself up over Nine. He isn’t the first to die on one of our missions, and I doubt he’ll be the last."

"He was the first to die on one of mine," Ethan admits. "Most likely because I rarely work with others. And I think our four missions together make up most of the times it happened."

"That probably was the last time," Kate says as she sips her own cocktail.

"What do you mean?" Ethan asks. "Are you thinking of quitting?"

"Do you know why Valeria was my target?" Kate asks.

"Because she was gay," Ethan answers without hesitation.

"… Well, yes. But mainly because it shouldn’t have required a bloodbath and the destruction of a city. It should have been a quiet accident in a hotel room or at one of her homes," Kate says.

"You could say it was exceptional," Ethan says, half-reassuring himself. "But it could also become the new norm."

"And now our targets come back from the dead. What do I do when I’m alone with them?" Kate says. "I’m not like you; I would die if that happened to me."

"I only survived because she made a mistake. She summoned a demon that was infinitely stronger than me, but by chance, she broke the pact she made with him, and he turned on her," Ethan says. He finishes his glass and motions to the bartender for another one.

"Ding," the system chimes. Ethan scans the bar, realizing that everyone heard that noise again. "The nine primordial labyrinths will now manifest in your world."