Today, a brilliant turquoise hue blankets the mesmerizing underwater landscape of Ordan, casting a vivid glow along a yellow cobblestone road. A young Walteran girl, fresh out of school, skips along its path, whistling a cheerful tune as her thoughts drift back to the events she savored earlier in the day. In the distance, her family cottage peeks over the hill, though an unusual stillness clings to the air around it, making the place feel strangely empty. As she reaches the door, she carefully nudges it open, tossing her backpack by the shelf before sliding into a seat at the table. The tantalizing aroma of a steaming hot pie fills the room, almost lifting her out of her chair with excitement— it’s the unmistakable scent of her favorite meal. A pie filled with Monstra syrup, known for its ridiculous sweetness, but…

She takes a bite, and a zesty citrus punch dances across her tastebuds.

Margaret "IT IS SO GOOD! All-Mother, why doesn’t granny show me how to make that sour extract? I bet Jaco and the girls would absolutely love it!"

An uneasy silence settles over the room as she finishes the pie, not leaving a single crumb behind. Her eyes flicker around, ensuring the coast is clear before she quietly slips into the kitchen and grabs a knife. Margaret heads to the left side of the bed, the one nearly pressed against the wall, and carefully slips the blade into a gap between the floorboards. With a quick twist, she pries up a wooden plank, revealing a hidden diary. Clutching it tightly, she hops onto her bed and begins writing with glee…

Dear Diary,

Today, Jaco insisted that I join the acting club, and at first, I refused, but I couldn't resist those adorable puppy eyes of his. Little did I know, today was a big day for the club— they were putting on a play in front of the entire school. I wanted to say no, but everyone kept insisting I’d be perfect because of the costume I made yesterday. I was so nervous since... acting was a whole different beast to tackle. But Jaco promised he’d take responsibility if I messed up. In the end, I gave in, and Jaco did a fantastic job guiding me to play the role of the sidekick to 'Fishhood', the hero in that classic fairy tale about a vigilante thief who steals from the rich and gives to the poor, with his loyal sidekick always by his side. The play went off without a hitch, mostly thanks to Jaco's incredible acting skills that captivated the audience. It was hilarious seeing him blushing afterward, surrounded by adoring fans.

She snaps the diary shut, tucking it back under the floorboard with care, and quickly secures the plank in place. With a satisfied sigh, she snuggles under the covers, reaching for a book on the nightstand.

Margaret "Time for Azan and Dave's third act...

With a sudden woosh, the windows fly open, flooding the room with light and rousing Azan from his slumber. His tired eyes narrow at his companion, Dave, who meets his gaze with a brief chuckle before turning to take in the view of Dia'Co. The scene below— dirty backstreets, rising smoke from small fires, and the chaos of street fighting— stirs memories of the hood he once called home. Azan rises from the bed, smoothing out his outfit, and Dave mirrors the action, both donning their masks as they make their way down the inn’s creaky stairs. They halt mid-way, overhearing a tense conversation— it's the couple they saved, embroiled in an argument over money. A shadow of sorrow crosses The Dealer’s Mask, and without a word, he tosses a pouch of gold fins their way as the pair descend to the bottom floor.

??? "Sir, we can't possibly accept this. You've already saved our lives."

Dave "No worries, bro. Just take it. Think of it as a gift, not payment."

Azan "There are about 500 gold fins in there. I’m not sure how far that’ll go for your business, but I hope it keeps things running for a while."

??? "500 gold fins! That could keep us afloat for three months! That’s more than enough time to get our business back on its feet. Thank you, Master...

Dave "The name's Dave Icarus."

Azan "Azan Abara. A pleasure to be your acquaintance."

Joz "My name is Joz and this is my wife, Bina. We run this Inn called 'The Sleeping Clam'."

Bina "Hi, and I hope the rooms were to your liking."

Dave "That crib was dank as hell. I'll rate it 10/10, dudes."

Azan "We were about to head out and explore the city, but I’d like to know more about this region first. What’s it really like here?"

Joz "..."

Bina "This place is a shit hole. Misery lurks in every corner. Poor folks and struggling businesses collapse by the dozens every day. Everyone’s looking for an opportunity, but they’re all too scared to take risks. If I had to sum up this city in one word, it would be ‘Struggle'."

Azan "You two seem to be holding up better than most around here."

Joz "That’s because Bina’s brother is a big shot in Dia’Ro. And a colossal jerk. Also, this Inn is kinda famous."

Bina "That jerk is the only reason we’re still safe, darling."

Joz "Didn’t feel too safe yesterday, though. Bottom line, Master Abara... having strong connections with the right people is the key to survival here."

Azan "Hmph. It seems that concept holds true no matter where you go. Anything else we should know?"

Joz "Occasionally, wealthy Tradens from other cities come here just to toy with the poor. Some folks see it as a disaster, others as a goldmine... but those who do are usually dead now."

Dave "Chillax, brother. We ain't are a bunch of dumbasses who would pick fights for no reason. Anyway, I’m starving. So, Adios!"

Dave gives a casual wave and heads out the front door.

Azan "Damn it! Don’t just take off like that! Sorry, but I’ve got to keep an eye on him. I wish you both a good day and hope business goes well."

Before the couple can respond, Azan bolts out of the building, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. Stepping outside, he’s met with a chaotic scene— people brawling in the streets and looting abandoned shops, the aftermath of yesterday's conflict. Scanning the chaos, he spots Dave, sprinting toward a group of thieves attempting to raid a food stall and delivering a couple of heavy punches. Without hesitation, Azan leaps over and intercepts Dave’s assault, giving the remaining terrified stragglers a chance to flee.

Azan "Dave! What’s gotten into you?! I know they’re thieves, but they’re just ordinary civilians—

Dave "Shush. Look over there, bro."

Azan’s eyes widen as he spots an unconscious old Traden lying on the ground, her stomach brutally slashed open.

Azan "Jesus Christ! Did those guys do that?!"

Dave "Yep, dude. Seems like not all of them are cowards after all."

Azan "They only prey on their own kind. The poor eat the poor, while the rich eat the poor."

The Dealer kneels down, swiftly applying two bandages to the old Traden’s wound, stopping the bleeding. As they turn to leave, the old woman who is regaining her consciousness, tugs weakly at Dave’s pants. She gestures toward her food stall, offering them a few squid sticks in gratitude. With shaky hands, she unlocks the mobile stall and hands them four sticks, two each, before hurrying off to safety. The pair, now gifted with their unexpected snack, lift their masks slightly to eat as they walk away. The groups of robbers watch from a distance, wisely steering clear of the dangerous duo.

Dave "For some dried squid, this shit is seriously delicious, bro."

Azan "It’s been a while since I’ve had seafood. I’m curious what kind of spice they used in this snack."

Dave "No clue, maybe some magical all-spice powder from the land beyond or something. So, bro... what’s the plan now? Jebait more of those assholes?"

Azan "I don’t want to stir up more trouble for the locals, so let’s put that plan on hold until we find a suitable spot. I’m thinking we should go hunting pigs."

Dave "Wait, pigs? You mean actual pig-pigs or... some rich fat fuck to screw over, Azbro?"

Azan "Bingo! So, where do you think we should start?"

Dave "I got this, man. Earlier, I saw a wild sight, like something straight out of Goonies. Follow me, dude."

Dave launches himself onto a nearby roof with a powerful leap, and Azan quickly follows. From their vantage point, Dave points towards a distant location. Azan pulls out his map, noting the direction is northwest, close to what appears to be a church. The two leap from rooftop to rooftop, steadily closing in on their destination. As it comes into view, any doubts vanish— their target is in clear sight.

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A group of soldiers, clad in shiny armor adorned with religious symbols of impaled fish, burst through the floor door of the church, followed by a chorus of terrified, feminine screams. The soldiers drag a group of female Orden nuns, who Azan assumes migrated here, out into the open. The scene unfolds with brutal clarity— the raiders begin tearing at the nuns' clothing, leaving them nearly naked, before dragging them toward a massive wooden cart. The cart itself is a grotesque wooden mess, with screaming faces carved into its sides, and is pulled by a horde of chained female Ordens dressed in filthy rags, their bodies scarred, and their faces etched with hopeless despair.

Azan clenches his teeth in anger, appalled that no one is stepping in to help. Just as his fury builds, Dave nudges him out of it and points toward the monstrosity on the cart. At first, it appears to be a massive blob of flesh, but as they get a clearer view, they realize it's a disgusting, obese humanoid with a face resembling a blobfish, dressed in garb similar to a pope's. The creature clutches a book in one hand and a cross-shaped staff in the other. Surrounding the abomination is a group of knights, their helmets removed, revealing heads composed of a translucent blue membrane with a pulsing red core at the center.

Dave "Bruh, Is that a Discord mod in a pope costume?"

Azan "Whatever that creature is, it’s pure evil. It seems to specifically target Ordens, and with that church attire, I’m guessing it’s part of some fanatical, racist group that hunts down anyone who isn’t a Traden."

Dave "Plus, they are all girls too, bro. The fat fuck is real freaky."

Azan "Before we charge in, let’s study our enemy first."

Dave "Bro, you’re the one looking like you’re about to pop a blood vessel."

Azan takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

Azan "Yeah, my head wasn’t in the right place. I expected a more advanced species to evolve beyond such backward ideals."

Dave "I don’t know, man. Their society’s so fucked up that a giant Cthulhu monster begged us to come fix it."

Azan "Ha. Anyway... We can assume these guys are wealthy and have a kind of power derived from their 'business'. Still, it’s hard to believe you can run a profitable business solely through religion. Humans did it, but it was mostly through donations, with nothing tangible to sell."

Dave "Maybe it’s for the other racist peeps in this town."

Azan "An elimination service? Possible, but it seems unlikely. Most folks here are too busy scrambling for cash to worry about something like that. Did you notice any small details with your so-called talent?"

Dave "Yo, I was waiting for you to ask that. So, for a split second, I caught one of those dudes’ armor blinking out of existence like Houdini. It’s all tentacles under there, my guy. And when they were tearing off the nuns’ clothes, the bastards' armor was phasing right through their skin."

Azan "Well, color me surprised, Dave. That gives us a better picture of what we’re dealing with— wait, is that thing holding a megaphone?"

The pair watches as the knights finish tying the nuns to the cart before forming an organized line in front of the gathered crowd.

??? "Hear ye! Hear ye! Be joyful, for you are graced by the presence of Malabut Pulworth, the grand pope of The Tourist Extermination Church, hailing from the distant land of Dia'Ro! Bask in my magnificence! I have come to cleanse this land of the scourge that taints it— these wretched non-Tradens who dared to live among us, defiling the purity of our sacred land! Our holy service will rid you of their filth and usher in an era of purity! But remember, such divine services do not come free. I demand a payment of 300— no, 500 gold fins from each citizen! Your payment will prove your loyalty to our righteous cause but...

He suddenly points at a Lobster-type Traden, who’s attempting to sneak away from the scene. With a cruel smile, he directs his finger at the man. Instantly, the line of soldiers manifests spears in their hands, and with ruthless precision, they turn the unfortunate citizen into a pincushion. The crowd begins to tremble in terror, and Azan notices the soldiers’ armor glowing with a reddish tint. Sharp, menacing spikes start to protrude from their shoulder pads and helmets, transforming their appearance into something more demonic and terrifying.

Azan "It’s clear now— these soldiers draw strength from intimidation and fear. The whole religion shtick is just a cover, a convenient excuse to justify killing people."

Dave "I'm not following bro."

Azan "Think about it. Traden is a city of wealth, and you want to get rich quickly. The easiest though morbid way is to kill someone and take their belongings. But if that were allowed, everyone would be doing it. There’s got to be some law or power in place that prevents such chaos, so people must operate under the guise of business."

Dave "So we’ve got Mister Fraud Pope here, creating a bogus religion to pressure people into giving him money. That’s disturbing as hell, bro."

Azan "Exactly. To pull it off, he has to make it seem authentic and instill fear, which, in turn, powers up his soldiers. When you saw their armor disappear earlier, I’m guessing it was before they entered the church, right? I assumed that part of the crowd thought that they were fake and weren't serious."

Dave "Yeah, it was before they went inside. Makes sense now... so, what’s the plan?"

Azan "We need to make the public see them as nothing more than laughingstocks. I’ve got an idea, but there’s a risk that some of the soldiers are actually wearing real armor and carrying real weapons. We’ll gamble that the ones guarding the pope are the real deal."

Dave "Got it. You make them do the silly, and I jump in to kick their asses. Perfect— I've been itching to try out a new technique, bro."

Azan "Alright, I'll tell you when to go in."

His mind clears up and sharpens, focusing on the scene as it unfolds, painting every detail with precision.

Malabut "THROUGH UNITY WE SHALL VANQUISH ALL— AUGH!"

The grand speech is abruptly cut off as the cart beneath Malobut’s massive form creaks under his weight, the wood frame splintering and breaking apart. The crowd and soldiers watch in stunned silence as the entire vehicle collapses, sending the enormous pope crashing into the concrete ground with a thunderous slam. But that’s not all— the impact causes the ground beneath him to shake violently, cracks spiderwebbing outward until a colossal crater forms, trapping Malobut's limbs within the jagged fissures. All of the soldiers nearby are caught in the cracks as well, unable to move.

Meanwhile, the prisoners, now free from the cart’s chains, seize their chance and bolt toward the nearest alleyway. The soldiers, desperate to regain control, hastily conjure more spears. But as they hurl them toward the fleeing captives, the spears vanish into thin air— along with some of their armor, revealing the deception to the crowd.

They look up at the crowd that witnesses all burst into laughter, causing Malibut to burst into tears.

Malabut "S-S-Silence, you-you... dirty peasants! Once I’m free, I will slaughter all of you. Soldiers, get up and bring me their heads!"

However, most of his soldiers are now naked and refuse to obey. Instead, they seize the opportunity to climb out of the crater and flee west toward Dia'Ro. The remaining armored soldiers struggle, their armor causing them to become more ensnared in the cracks.

Two impeccably dressed gentlemen make their entrance, drawing awe from the crowd, who regard them as professionals from Dia'Mo. Dave glides into the crater with a smooth moonwalk, deftly avoiding the gaps in the flooring, while Azan captures the crowd's attention with his commanding presence.

Malabut "W-Who are you? You don’t look like the other peasants. Wait... that attire. Are you from Dia'Mo? Please, help me out and assist us in teaching these peasants a lesson befitting citizens of higher society."

Dave "Sorry, buddy. It seems you have the wrong idea. Fool. We are not the same."

Dave winds up a punch with all his strength, and the force is so intense it flattens the fat Traden, leaving nothing but a large blood splatter. The soldiers, now terrified, scramble to escape their armor, but it’s too late. Dave skips over to the toughest-looking soldier and delivers a seemingly gentle punch to the armor. At first, nothing happens, but then the soldier suddenly feels a sharp, agonizing sensation piercing through his entire body from within his armor. A barrage of metal skewers erupts from the inside, killing him. Dave lets out a maniacal chuckle before turning his attention to the next target. The crowd hears the chilling screams emanating from the crater, their emotions a chaotic blend of fear and relief.

Azan "Relax, dear citizens! We’re not here to impose any tolls. Instead, we're here to offer our services. We are... ‘The Twin Hats’, a foreign group from Ordan. Our business wasn’t thriving, so we moved to Tradan. We couldn't let this atrocity go unnoticed of course."

The crowd breathes a sigh of relief, their curiosity piqued as they listen to the gentleman.

Azan "We are problem solvers. No matter what issues you face, we can tackle them, and the cost of our services is negotiable."

Dave "Yo, I'm done with the bastards. Hold up, what are you doing, Azbro?"

Azan ["I’m explaining that we’re part of a foreign organization called ‘The Twin Hats’ from Ordan and that we solve all sorts of problems. This is the perfect moment to advertise our business and skills, showing our prowess. Dave, I want you to continue pitching to the crowd because I spotted something suspicious."]

Dave "Bro, wait— and he's gone."

As Azan moves off, Dave grabs the megaphone and raises it high, addressing the crowd.

Dave "YO! YO!! YOO!!! I’m Agent Red Hat, and I’m here to sell ya fine citizens our top-notch bis. We do tasks time, we fight troublesome fat fucks and people who like to do crime...

Azan bolts down the alley where the girls had retreated, kicking open a sewer hatch and leaping into the darkness below. As he moves cautiously around a corner, he hears the scratching and tapping sound of a tiny creature. The Dealer carefully sneaks forward and spots a rat holding a quill, scribbling on a piece of parchment.

His suitcase transforms into a saber, but the noise alerts the rat. Panicking, it shoves the parchment into its mouth and darts toward a hole in the wall. Azan acts quickly, extending the saber and slicing the rodent cleanly in two just in time.

He retrieves the discarded message and reads it...

Dear Master,

The targets have taken the bait without issue and their powers seem formidable but also mysterious. One of them seems to have the power to make things happen without any clear cause. I couldn't get a good picture of what the other had but he was very physically strong. They also seem to be part of a group called "The Twin Hats" so there might be more of them. I suggest we should be more cautious and do some research before approaching them any further.

Azan "So that fucker was just a bait. Damn, that was close."

Returning to the crowd, Azan is astonished to see them dancing to Dave's impromptu singing.

Azan "What the hell are you doing?"

Dave "Just working on my mixtape on the fly, my guy. Looks like the crowd's really into it."

Azan "No gonna lie... it seems effective. Now give me that Megaphone."

Dave "Sure thing, boss man."

Azan "That's all for today, folks! Here are our contacts?!"

With a snap of his fingers, a flurry of flyers cascades through the air, each bearing the logo of two hats— one red and one blue. The flyers include a detailed description of their services and contact information on their map. By the time the crowd looks back to find the gentlemen, Azan and Dave have already vanished, retreating to their room back in the inn. Azan reviews the incoming messages and is surprised to see several people have already contacted them. He skims through the messages, activating the chat with the Kanji's symbol.

Azan "Time for our daily report...