Getting to Bunchy’s house is a nightmare, mainly because Rika spends two whole hours talking about herself. The worst part? She makes sure I hear every single word.

“Finally,” I mutter as we reach the door.

“Is this your apartment?” she asks, glancing around like the place offends her.

“A friend’s apartment,” I say, knocking on the door.

She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t actually expect me to sleep in a stranger’s house, do you?”

“Well, you can always go back home. In fact, it is still not too late,” I shoot back.

“No, my future is written in stone. I am destined for the big leagues. I am not retracting, not even you will stop me, Daryn.”

She points her finger at me with an exaggerated pose.

I knock again, harder this time, but there is still no answer.

“So your friend isn’t here,” she says, arms crossed. “Great. Why don’t we talk about salmon now?”

“What?” I blink, too tired to process her nonsense.

Before things can spiral any further, the door opens.

“Bunchy!” I say, relieved. “Hey, man, what happened?”

He sighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, stepping aside to let us in without much of a greeting. That’s when I notice—he isn’t eating a hamburger. Weird.

“So,” I start as he grabs a beer, “what’s going on?”

I think it’s his first for the night, but I can see a few cans on the floor, while Rika is trying not to change her sweet expression because I know inside she is thinking this place is junk.

He starts drinking the beer really fast. My mind is hoping this is not going where I think it is.

“I had time, so I went and paid for the mess you made with my car, and to pay the knights for the disaster on the road,” he says, popping the can open.

My stomach sinks. “Ah… yeah, about that—”

“And now,” he interrupts, taking a long sip, “it’s almost the end of the month. The car repair cleaned me out. I don’t have enough for rent, and food’s looking pretty tight.”

I watch him finish the beer in one go and reach for the third.

“Even if we get paid, the money won’t come in time, Slimmy,” he says, cracking open another can.

I don’t know how to respond. His words are more real than anything—not even the monsters I face can compare to the fear of not paying the rent.

I rub the back of my neck, thinking. “Hmmm…”

“How many days until the month’s pay?” Rika asks.

“Like four days.”

“Hmm, and Daryn, you work tomorrow?”

“No, in fact, no.”

“And you are a miner?”

“Yes, I think that is obvious, Rika. What are you trying to say?”

“Huhu, I have an idea!”

“What?”

“Going to the caves to collect rocks!”

Bunchy snaps his fingers.

“That is a good idea, but to find quartz, actually, will be in special caverns to get money fast, and time is not on our side.”

Rika thinks deeply and raises her hand again.

“Your betting skills.”

“I don’t think betting is a skill… besides, I don’t have money to bet.”

“What about this?” Rika suddenly pulls a pendant from her pocket, holding it up for me to see.

“What is that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s from my mom. What if we bet on it?”

I stare at the small trinket. “That looks like a piece of—”

“Thanks, Rika, right?” Bunchy interrupts with a sigh. “But I don’t think they’ll accept anything that isn’t cash.”

“But we have to try! We don’t have any other choice!” Rika insists, her voice filled with determination.

She keeps pressing, nagging us until we have no choice but to give in.

“Fine, Rika. We’re going. You coming, Bunchy?”

“Hmm… I’m good. I don’t think I can handle going outside again.” He leans back with a weary look.

“Alright, suit yourself.”

----------------------------------------

The moment we step outside, the cold hits us like a wave. Every breath we take is visible in the air, and each step makes the chill sink deeper into our bones.

“We better hurry,” I mutter, pulling my coat tighter.

Rika simply nods, her body trembling as she shivers.

We move quickly, making our way to the heart of the city where shops and market stalls line the streets. The warmth of the crowded space is a stark contrast to the bitter cold outside, but our goal isn’t comfort—we’re looking for a casino.

Rika, using her ever-effective puppy eyes, sweet-talks an adult into giving us the information we need.

Didn’t think it would work, but it does. She’s telling us that we are nearby the casino.

“Don’t mention this to anyone.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t, hehe.”

Just as we turn away, the commotion around us grows louder. A sudden outcry ripples through the crowd.

“A thief! Stop him!”

From the corner of my eye, I see a figure darting through the streets at a ridiculous speed, clutching a pouch tightly in his hands. Someone lunges at him, trying to tackle him, but the thief spins past with the agility of a seasoned running back.

He’s heading straight for us.

“Move!” the boy shouts, his voice sharp and urgent. He sounds close to my age.

Before I can react, Rika is already in motion. Her fireflies zip through the air, dazzling the thief and making him lose his footing. He stumbles, his ankle twisting awkwardly before he crashes to the ground.

Rika flashes me a mischievous grin, making a subtle gesture that practically screams: We just caught a thief—there’s definitely a reward, tie him now. Don’t screw this up.

“…Fine.”

I grab the boy by the collar and snatch the pouch from his grip. The crowd surges around us, furious murmurs echoing in every direction. Their anger is almost tangible—they despise thieves.

But as I hold the boy, hesitation creeps into my thoughts. Does he really deserve to be thrown to this mob?

Then, the crowd parts as someone steps forward.

A girl.

She has long blonde hair, and her expression is unreadable as her piercing gaze settles on me.

I blink. “Cantheris?”

She doesn’t respond. Her hollow eyes widen slightly, but there’s no confirmation. Just silence. She has the kind of presence that makes everything around her feel muted, like the world has momentarily paused just for her arrival. Her golden eyes, sharp and unyielding, lock onto me with a gaze that sends a chill down my spine. Those aren't the eyes of someone easily swayed—they carry weight, wisdom, and something unreadable, like a page from an old book I’m not allowed to open.

She wears a black cloak, its fabric flowing around her with subtle grace, trimmed with silver patterns that hint at a noble lineage—or at least someone with a sense of power. Even her stance speaks of discipline, an unwavering posture that tells me she isn’t just some ordinary elf wandering through the streets.

Don’t tell me I just mistook Cantheris for some random elf. But it’s so hard to identify them when both of them are blonde.

Rika sighs beside me, arms crossed. “I don’t think it’s her, Daryn.” Her tone drips with disappointment. Like, seriously?

I stand next to the elf, realizing she’s slightly shorter than me. “So this must be yours.” Before I can pass the pouch to her, Rika snatches it from my hands.

“Let me handle this, Daryn.” She turns to the elf, skepticism etched into her face. “How can we be sure this is actually yours?”

The elf looks at us but says nothing.

“Hello?” I ask, waving a hand slightly.

Rika, usually so blunt in situations like this, just silently hands the pouch over without another word.

“Thanks,” the elf says softly, offering a faint smile. She feels like someone reserved.

The crowd around us murmurs, wondering if she plans to punish the boy who stole from her. But her expression is unreadable—no anger, no malice.

“In fact, this guy steals from me,” she finally says, “I will show him the true way. I will make him my apprentice.”

“I don’t—”

Before I can even react, Rika grabs my arm and pulls me out of the crowd.

“What— You’re acting weird.”

“Daryn, I don’t know, but that elf is not normal.”

“She’s a little off, but that doesn’t mean she’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be so rude.”

“No, I mean... How do I say this? It’s a woman’s sense.”

“Woman’s sense?”

“Yes.”

I roll my eyes. No way I’m buying into whatever vague intuition she’s talking about. But as we walk away, I hear the boy growl in protest as the elf drags him off against his will. Yeah, she’s strange, but that doesn’t mean she’s special.

Curious, I activate my skill—Eye of the Intern—to analyze her. But the moment I try to focus, my vision blurs.

Then she turns her head. Right at me. Like she felt my skill probing her.

Now I’m feeling something is off.

“Well, you know what? You’re right. Let’s go a different path.” I try to shake off the weird feeling

We’re walking in an alley that leads to beautiful channels of water, or more like rivers.

Nobody is around here, and is a nice shortcut, until it isn't.

As we walk by the edges, we can hear the steps behind us.

“Is she following us?” I ask.

“I think so…” Rika mutters.

The footsteps grow louder, closing the distance. I turn back.

“What?!”

“You helped me, so willing to offer a reward,” Lars says.

“Then why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I don’t speak much of the language.”

“Huh?” Rika and I say in unison.

“I’m from an old town. Elf’s old language.”

“Okaaay... Let’s start simple. Your name?”

“Lars.”

Rika grips my arm, whispering, “Isn’t Lars a male name?”

“Shhh. Don’t criticize their culture.”

I turn back to the elf. “Alright, back to the main topic. We don’t really want any reward.” I try to sound polite, but this whole situation is getting weirder by the second.

“You… say Cantheris.”

“Yes. You know her?”

“Yes. She is my sister.”

I blink. “I don’t remember her mentioning a sister.”

Rika pats my shoulder. “You barely know her, Romeo. Don’t expect her to spill her life story overnight.”

“Shut up, Rika.”

“So, Cantheris’s sister,” I mumble. It still feels awkward, even with Rika here. Lars stares at me, then shifts her gaze between us.

“Reward.”

“No, no. We don’t want money, we’re fine.”

“No. Reward is not money.”

“Then what is it?”

She starts speaking in a thick accent, but I catch the worst part.

“Bewer.”

“Be where?”

“Bewer.”

“I think she means ‘beware,’ Daryn,” Rika says, frowning.

“Oh. Beware of what?”

“Your life is full of suffering. Pain. You.”

I laugh. “My life is fine, thanks. Pain doesn’t bother me as much as you think. You know, I almost bled out yesterday, and I’m still standing.”

She just looks at me with those same unreadable eyes, like she doesn’t fully understand what I just said.

“Well, and where is the boy?”

The boy appears from a corner since he might hear us, with a collar around his neck.

“And does being an apprentice come with a collar?”

“No, but he must be trained.”

It’s like she’s talking about that boy like he’s a dog.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

The boy starts speaking, or should I say barking? He’s actually barking.

I’m afraid to ask, so I just look into her eyes to see if she can understand me by looking.

She seems even more confused than I am because of my staring.

“I hate to be the one to ask, but why is he barking?”

“He talk much, a lot of.”

He’s still barking. His expression is like begging and wanting some compassion, but I’m not sure if he deserves it. But stealing is a crime, and this boy committed it. Doesn’t matter why he did it; at least for the authorities, it doesn’t care why he did it.

Now, focusing on Lars, it seems she’s a magic user, and might be an average or advanced one. Though, because she got robbed, she might be average.

Without much to say, I notice something on the boy’s arm—like a bracelet.

“Oh, beautiful bracelet, futuristic with LEDs and such. Is this to make him like your property?”

“No, it already came with the boy.”

“Hehehe, wow, a boy with a bracelet that looks like a GPS—”

As soon as my words leave my mouth, the chill comes to my body like I just realized what I was saying.

"Rika..."

"Yes... Daryn..."

"Did I just say that thing is a GPS?"

"Something like that—"

"Then why is it beeping red now...?"

From all corners, men in dark glasses, smoking cigars, emerge. Tall, robust, and exuding an air of authority. One of them steps forward, his gaze locked onto the boy.

"That boy is ours."

Lars doesn’t seem to comprehend what’s happening. In fact, I don’t think her brain is even in this world right now. I just hope she chooses her next words carefully.

"No, he is my apprentice."

The robust man shoves her aside, sending her tumbling into the river.

"Wait—"

Before I can react, a sharp jolt of electricity courses through my body. A taser. My vision blurs, and everything fades to black.

----------------------------------------

When I wake up, I find myself in a casino. But not just any casino—this place oozes wealth, extravagance beyond my imagination. I have no idea where Rika is. The fear that something might’ve happened to her grips me, and I quickly rise to my feet.

Around me, players are engrossed in poker and various other games, the clatter of chips and murmurs filling the air. A bodyguard approaches and gestures for me to follow. Fighting here, without knowing my surroundings, could cost me my life. I grit my teeth and comply.

As we reach the center of the casino, I see the boy from earlier. Sitting across from him is another man, slightly older, but clearly distressed. Standing beside them is a man who seems to be the boss of this place. He wears a cowboy hat, a pistol resting casually on the table beside him. His attire resembles a dandy from old times—only drenched in gold.

"Come on, Tim. Your brother’s life depends on you. Are you betting or not?"

Tim stares at his cards, hands trembling. Fear grips him.

Then—he bolts. Cards scatter through the air as he dashes toward the exit, screaming.

The dandy exhales, as if he expected this. Without hesitation, he raises his gun and fires. Repeatedly.

Tim’s body crumples, riddled with holes.

The man sighs. "I was willing to forgive the debt, you know. You just had to win. But not only did you run, you left your brother behind. Disappointing." He flicks his nose in mild irritation.

I don’t know the initial debt but judging by the chips on the table, there must’ve been an extra 50,000 gold coins in debt.

The dandy turns to me. "I have to thank you two for bringing the boy back. And sorry about the elf, but you know—casino policy. Gotta kill at least one per day. Nothing personal." He takes a slow drag from his tobacco pipe, as if this were just another Tuesday.

One of the bodyguards tosses a pouch of gold coins at me. My hands catch it on instinct, and put it in my pocket, but my mind is elsewhere.

"Reward for bringing the boy"

I take it the reward a pouch bag with golden coins, but that doesn't matter.

"Where is my sister?"

The dandy smirks. "Who?"

"The girl who came with me."

"Oh, her? Heh. She had more balls than anyone I’ve talked to in a while. Nice girl. I almost forgave her... but then she spat in my face. Na-ah."

A chill runs down my spine. "Just tell me she's fine..."

His smirk widens. He’s enjoying this. He wants me to ask. He wants to drag out the punchline.

"So where is she?"

He finally leans in, grinning. "Your sister is entertaining our clients."

His face is no longer human in my eyes. He’s a pig. Filth. A carcass waiting to be gutted.

I summon my pickaxe, ready to turn his skull into tomato juice.

The weapon swings—

—But one of the bodyguards takes the full impact to the chest.

Before I can react again, more men rush in, at least three put their weight on me, slamming me onto the floor, restraining my arms.

One of them sneers. "Don’t you know who he is?"

"NO—RIKA, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

The dandy chuckles. "Daryn, let me tell you a little story about this boy..."

He knows my name.

He notices my reaction and grins. "Oh, you realized? Don’t worry. When you have contacts like mine, information flows easily. This capital is rotten, you see—works in my favor. But back to the story."

He presses the gun to the young boy’s head.

"The older brother on the floor? He borrowed money from me. Naturally, I accepted. He was a damn good shooter, one of my best. But then—he failed to pay up. So, as the generous man I am, I told him, 'If you don’t pay, your brother’s brains will decorate your ceiling.' "

He chuckles, pulling the boy’s cheek.

"And this little guy? Last night, he ran away. Cold. Calculated. But he didn't know who he was dealing with—me. Big Bruno Bambino. You don’t run from me. Sooner or later, I always collect."

I grit my teeth. "Idiot—he was stealing others to free his brother!"

Big Bruno shrugs. "Oh, he was? Well, I didn’t find a single coin on him."

The boy thrashes against his captors, muffled screams filling the room.

Without hesitation, Big Bruno pulls the trigger.

A final muffled cry.

Silence.

Big Bruno exhales, his massive chest rising and falling like a war drum. “A promise is a promise,” he mutters, as if reminding himself. “My old man always said, ‘Fulfill your word, and you’ll earn respect.’ Looking at me now, I’d say he was right.”

I have no time to care about his damn principles.

“Rika!” I roar, my voice raw with desperation.

A sleazy voice cuts through the air.

“Can you shut up already? Your sister’s fine. Just making sure our client’s sons have their first time, too.”

A surge of blind fury courses through me. Strength I didn’t know I had ignites in my limbs as I throw off the three men pinning me down. Their bodies hit the floor like discarded sacks of meat. But there are more of them. Too many.

Rika is my only priority.

I bolt forward. Gunfire erupts—Big Bruno’s pistol barks behind me—but I weave through the chaos, moving in an erratic zigzag, survival and rage guiding my steps.

Doors. Hallways. The sickly stench of alcohol and sweat. The realization strikes me—I’m in the casino’s underground levels. A subterranean hell where monsters parade in human skin.

Then I hear her through the corridors. It’s low, but the voice I’d recognize from miles away.

“Daryn!” Rika’s voice. Terrified. Screaming.

I sprint toward the sound, my grip tightening around the pickaxe in my hand.

Time to work.

Steel clashes against wood as I demolish the doors one by one, my blows echoing through the corridors. The noise draws attention. Heavy footsteps. More guards. Let them come. Let them all come.

The walls vibrate with muffled cries, moans, and the revolting sounds of suffering. I hear Rika’s voice, but it’s buried under obscene noises. The closer I get, the harder it is to find her.

Then—laughter.

A young man’s voice, filled with amusement and cruelty.

“Who the hell is Daryn? You only need to think about me.”

A muffled scream follows.

My blood runs cold.

I swing the pickaxe with everything I have, shattering the door like my life depends on it.

A sickening crack. The scene before me sends my stomach into freefall.

Rika lies chained to the bed, her clothes torn—not by blades, but by hands that treated her like property. Syringes litter the floor, along with obscene “toys” on a table. The air reeks of chemicals and sweat. He’s been taking his time with her.

But she’s still awake. Still alive. Her eyes tell me it’s not too late, but the sight makes my blood boil.

The bastard standing over her turns, annoyance flashing across his face before recognition sets in.

“Who the hell are you?!” he sneers, wiping his mouth like I interrupted his meal. “I already paid half a million for the night with the virgin. If you’re here for more money, I am not paying a single more coin because you know. I’m Smitch Mac Junior—you don’t shake me down, you serve me.”

I don’t reply.

I swing the pickaxe.

His skull caves in like a rotten fruit. A spray of red paints the walls, and his body collapses before he can utter another sound.

My breathing is ragged. My hands tremble.

Did I just kill someone?

No, I’ve killed before. The rats. The bodyguard.

But this is different.

It’s like I wanted to.

The weight of it presses against my mind. But as I look at Rika—her body still shackled, her eyes wide and barely processing what’s happening—I know it’s worth it.

I shatter the chains with a few more swings, then strip off my shirt and hand it to her.

“Put this on,” I say, voice hoarse.

She nods weakly. No words. Just silent obedience.

We have to move.

But the moment we step out, the bodyguards are already waiting.

Rika’s legs tremble. She’s not going to make it far.

And it’s all my fault.

I should have taken her back to the city, no matter how much she resisted. But no—now we’re here, drowning in someone else’s debt.

Kill or be killed.

That’s the only law now.

I fight like a demon. The pickaxe swings, crushing bones, shattering skulls. My hands drip with blood, but my heart beats with only one purpose—

Protect my family.

No matter the sin. No matter the cost.

For the first time, I have something to protect. Something to fight for.

And I will never let anyone take that from me.

Swing.

Swing.

CRASH.

The guards are relentless, but pain fuels them more than fear. I’m not fighting warriors. I’m fighting desperate men, clinging to life like rats in a sewer.

Then—electricity surges through my body.

A Taser.

My vision goes black.

----------------------------------------

When I wake up, the stench of blood and sweat fills my nose.

I am chained to a chair.

Big Bruno stands before me, a hulking shadow of inevitability. Beside him, a well-dressed man—older, refined, but with the same cruelty in his eyes.

“The father of the boy you killed, this is Mr Smitch” Bruno says, voice even. “He wants revenge.”

The man—the “father”—is crying.

But there is no grief in his face. Only rage.

“A son for a sister.” Big Bruno smirks.

The bastard grabs Rika by the hair and drags her forward.

“You killed my son,” he hisses, his voice breaking. “For this cheap slut?”

I thrash against my chains, my arms burning with fury.

Big Bruno passes the man a gun.

“Feel what it’s like,” Smitch exclaimed. “To lose family.”

The father raises the pistol, his hand shaking. Tears fall, but his eyes burn with hatred.

And yet—

All I can think about is how much I want to rip his eyes out and make his suffering last for eternity.

The metallic click of a revolver being loaded echoes through the dimly lit room.

“Dandy Smitch and BBB,” a voice calls out.

It’s Lars. Her tone is as hollow as ever, her words floating without weight.

The bodyguards tense up at her presence.

“Boss, she was the one who we threw in the river.”

Big Bruno takes a slow drag from his tobacco pipe, his thick fingers tapping against the wood as he mulls over the situation.

“There’s no way,” he mutters. “We’ve got cameras, security—no one gets in unnoticed.”

Lars steps forward, her expression unreadable. “Big Bruno, I am Lars, an agent of the kingdom. You are the prime suspect in the disappearance of a noble’s daughter.”

Bruno exhales a thick cloud of smoke. “Relax. I find bodies where no one’s looking. That mistress or whatever? If she’s missing, she’s not with us. My people don’t mess with nobles—we help them.”

Lars doesn’t flinch. “So you won’t cooperate? According to our detectives, she was last seen near this very district, close to where rumors say your operations take place. That means I’m obligated to inspect your rooms myself.”

Bruno chuckles. His laughter grows, deep and guttural. A nod from him, and the guards spring into action. One of them slams Lars’ head against the table.

“Do you really think coming here alone was a good idea?” Bruno sneers. “But hey, not my problem. Fresh meat is always in high demand, especially noble blood. It’s just business, keeping our clients happy.” He leans back, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “Imagine their delight when they hear tonight’s special—an agent of the kingdom, stripped down, putting on a show with a happy ending.”

The guards laugh as they press a taser against Lars’ side. Her body jolts violently before she collapses to the ground.

“It’s over for her,” Bruno sighs. “Strip her and send her to the special chamber—make sure she’s properly tied up. Erase any evidence.”

The guards move without hesitation.

“You bastards—”

“Oh yeah, Smitch,” Bruno interrupts, glancing at the old man. “Keep going. Sorry for the distraction.”

Without a word, Smitch tosses his revolver aside.

“What?” Bruno raises a brow.

But it’s a trick. Smitch suddenly lunges at Rika, fists flying. His knuckles crash into her face, again and again, his laughter growing with every hit.

“STOP!”

My scream tears through the room, but it only fuels their cruelty.

A new voice cuts through the tension. “Boss, the authorities are here.”

Bruno clicks his tongue. “Those money-hungry leeches? Fine. Give them this—should be enough to keep their mouths shut.” He tosses a hefty pouch of gold to one of his men before turning back to me.

He throws me the floor, breaking the adjusting ties of my arms, but the men got on the floor with their weights.

He plants his boot on my head, pressing me into the cold floor.

“Can you believe it? Being a knight in the Gray District doesn’t pay well. Even if I lived there, I’d go broke in a week.” His smirk widens as he looks me directly in the eyes. “Don’t take it personally. Life is a cycle. What’s happening to you will happen to me eventually. The difference is—I’ll make sure it only happens when it’s my last day as an old man.”

"Ahhh!!!"

A roar of war I free from my throat, pushing all the three guards in top of me, like rag dolls.

Electricity courses through my body as they try to tase me again. But this time, the shock barely fazes me.

The guards close in. I swing, fists meeting flesh, but knives slice into my arms in return. I keep fighting. I have to.

Then—click.

The familiar sound of a gun being cocked freezes me in place.

Bang!

Pain explodes in my leg.

“FUCK!”

Bruno lowers his smoking pistol. “Sorry, but I can’t let you go breaking my men. They’re expensive to replace.” He glances at Smitch. “You done yet?”

Smitch chuckles. “Not satisfied… where’s your recipe?”

“That’ll cost extra. Five grand.”

“I don’t care. Give it to me.”

A syringe appears—its contents swirling with a deep purple hue.

My blood runs cold.

“What the hell is that?”

Bruno grins. “A little something special. A poison, a drug. Let’s just say…it’s one of my best sellers.”

“You can’t—”

Bang!

Another shot rips through my other leg.

“Stay on the ground and enjoy the show.”

Smitch forces the syringe into Rika’s arm.

“It’s hard to watch, believe me,” he says with mock sympathy. “But hey, it’s your own fault for killing his son. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself—and this rotten city.”

I watch in horror as parts of Rika’s skin begin turning purple.

“She’s not your sister anymore,” Big Bruno chuckles. “This drug is my masterpiece.”

Before the syringe can fully inject, an explosion shakes the entire building. A deafening boom sends a group of bodyguards flying through the walls, their bodies crashing like ragdolls. The sheer force sends Smitch stumbling, and the syringe slips from his grip, clattering onto the ground.

A familiar voice cuts through the chaos.

“Finally, I have permission to destroy this place.”

Lars.

Beside her stands a terrified young woman, barely covered by a tattered towel. From the way Bruno’s expression darkens, I know—this must be the noble’s missing daughter.

Gunfire erupts.

Lars raises a hand, and an invisible force flickers into existence. Bullets stop mid-air, harmlessly dropping to the ground. But she is not moving, soon she will run out of mana, and she will get shot. It’s over for her.

Amid the chaos, I see it— The syringe.

Smitch lunges for it. So do I.

We hit the floor, struggling for control. He has the advantage—I feel it in the weight pressing down on me, in the hands clawing at my throat, squeezing, choking the air from my lungs. But I refuse to let go. I shift my weight, using all my strength to turn our position.

"You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone!" Smitch snarls, his grip tightening.

"No," I rasp, fingers searching, desperate. "And I’m not here to find out!"

With a surge of will, I jab my fingers into his eyes. He screams—a guttural, wrenching sound—as I push harder, feeling the sickening pop beneath my fingertips. He thrashes, rolling away. I gasp for air, scrambling to destroy the syringe before he can reclaim it.

“This is what your son saw in his last moments!”

Gunfire rattles in the distance, the grunts and screams of bodies hitting the floor echoing through the space. But the bullets aren't stopping.

I feel it—fear.

Big Bruno’s fear.

He’s retreating, slipping through the back exit. I push myself up, trying to go after him, but I’m bleeding too much. My body sways, my vision blurs.

"I won’t let that bastard escape," I growl.

I force myself up, ignoring the pain. I can chase him down—no, I will chase him down. But then—

Rika’s cry of pain roots me to the spot.

She writhes, her body trembling, purple veins creeping across her skin. Her lips part, but no sound comes—only a silent plea.

I move to her side, gripping her shoulders. "Rika, stay with me. Talk to me!"

But she can’t. She can’t.

Her fingers twitch, weakly grasping at my arm. If she had the strength, she’d be squeezing tighter. Too tight.

The drug—she wants more.

My eyes flicker to the gun lying near Smitch’s limp body. My hands move on their own, picking it up, pressing it against her forehead.

This isn’t her anymore.

And more importantly—she is in pain.

Her lips move again, forming a single word.

"More."

My hands shake. My mind screams at me to stop. But the rest of me—numb. Cold. The sounds of the battlefield fade into a distant hum.

"Rest in peace," I whisper.

But before I can pull the trigger—

A force slams my head to the ground.

Like gravity itself has decided to pass judgment.

"Adrenaline can be a double-edged sword," Lars murmurs.

I blink through the haze, lifting my head. Around me—bodies. Every guard, every soldier—gone. Their heads driven through the walls.

"You’re losing perspective," Lars says, stepping forward. "Too much trauma—you’re seeing things differently. The bruises will heal, but the main problem is the drug."

I don’t respond. I can’t.

She continues, voice steady, almost clinical. "People who take underground drugs like this never fully recover. Even if their bodies are cleansed, the trauma stays. Some never leave the hospital. But—"

"But—?"

"There’s a chance." Lars’ eyes lock onto mine. "The best healer in this kingdom might be able to cure her. But only if she accepts the treatment."

I swallow hard. "And if she doesn’t?"

"Then she’ll be lost forever."

Lars kneels beside me. "Give her to us. Our scientists and doctors need more cases like hers—most of our patients are already clean, but we need more. If you do that, I will find the healer."

I grip Rika’s trembling body, the weight of the decision pressing into my chest.

I don’t have time to process it. I carefully lift Rika. My expression is answer enough for Lars.

"Can you walk? because I’m detonating this place."

"I think I can, but more importantly, Big Bruno escaped," I mutter, still reeling.

Lars shakes her head. "No, he didn’t. The knights outside have already captured him."

She help me to press pression on my legs

"Do you have a skill of pain killers or something, you are bleeding alot"

"Something like that"

With pression and some foldings from wood clothes

"Try to walk slowly and lets go"

----------------------------------------

The girls from the rooms, still wrapped in towels, make their way toward the upper floors. The wealthy elites, once untouchable, are now being escorted out in chains. Along the walls, intricate symbols glow with an eerie light—a spell, most likely a timed detonation.

"How do we get out? These walls are solid metal." The thick, reinforced structure separates the underground casino from the upper levels.

Without hesitation, the metal bends and twists on its own, creating an open path. Lars controls it effortlessly.

We rush through, climbing three flights of stairs before finally reaching the surface. Fresh air floods my lungs, but the weight in my chest remains.

Lars turns to me. "From here on, it’s best if your sister comes with us."

I nod, exhausted. "Thank you..."

She presses a heavy pouch into my hand. Gold coins. A lot of them. But before I can take it, she tightens her grip.

"Consider this a reward from the kingdom—for your silence, you did not seem anything but." Her eyes darken slightly. "If we ever need a witness, if we ever require information about what happened here, you will answer our call. Do you understand?"

I hesitate, then nod. "When will she be back?"

Lars exhales. "I won’t lie to you. If she doesn’t recover, she could be in the hospital for years. But if the High Priest accepts her case... she might be back in a few weeks."

I watch as the knights escort the nobles away. Rika is carefully lifted into a carriage, bound for one of the most advanced hospitals in the kingdom.

I can’t move.

I don’t know where home is.

Lars touches my shoulder.

"Is no body's fault"

"How can you say that?"

"Big bruno never had plants to let you go, his hobby is torture naive guys making them think they will go out of the casino with money and even some of his employees and whoever who steps in his territories that not have connections with the kingdom, so It could have happen to anyone."

"Then its his fault"

She sighs, ignoring my last words

"Reward?"

The sudden changing topics makes more angry but right now I don't think yelling is the answer for everything.

"Forget that, I am more curious, Is this what you mean by the pain I will feel?"

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her silence is painfully long.

She is not like he is thinking, but is more like the answer is so obvious she does not want to say it.

Is like she would like to save her saliva instead of answering random questions.

"I don’t know. To me, it doesn’t seem like you’ve experienced a lot of pain or sadness."

Her voice is so cold, detached from reality.

She hands me a book.

"Hmm?"

"Reward."

"But—"

"I never said the prediction was the reward. This book isn’t a big thing, but it might entertain your mind."

"Prediction?"

"Reward"

I ignore her last words, she is so simple and so robotic, that is unlogical to argue with her so I look at the book.

It’s empty.

I don’t even feel disappointed. It’s not like this night can get any worse.

"This book can copy any book once. So if you like a book, this can copy it. Means free book."

I don’t know how she can talk about books when this night has been nothing but trauma.

She walks away. My mind sharpens, and I realize—I should have noticed earlier.

She is not Cantheris’ sister.

I don’t know who she is.

But finding her means problems.