Nordica was one of the three major provinces in the Kingdom of Ardair. The northern half of the province was covered in treacherous mountains hiding rich mineral veins and troves of rare earth minerals. Its southern half was more tropical and diverse, blessed with meandering lakes, vibrant forests and arable flatlands suitable for farming.

The capital city of Nordica, Dannan, was located at the frontier of these two halves. Unofficially, it was called the City of Metals due to its massive industrial district built on metallurgy and metalworking. It was estimated that over ninety percent of kingdom’s metals and minerals pass through the city at some point during its circulation.

Dannan was a city of two faces. Its upper district housed the royal family, along with a number of powerful noble houses and wealthy institutions. But its lower districts were sprawling with slums, mired in poverty and violent crimes. The ruling class had no interest in policing these areas. Thugs, criminals, and orphans proliferated these parts of the city—all individuals who had no income and assets to tax, and therefore, devoid of value.

With the absence of a police force to enforce the laws, the slums of Lower Dannan became the home of several powerful crime syndicates who ruled the area with an iron fist. For the longest time, they were allowed to do as they pleased.

***

Ronny

Ronny leaned back against his chair, indulging in the fragrant smell of aged scotch in his hands. His mind danced with a light buzz as he admired the view on his shelf. A vivid collection of skulls from various animals lined the rows, adorned in dazzling jewels and colorful paint. He grinned, basking in the drunken glow, satisfied—until a slight itch in his nostrils knocked him out of his bliss.

Irritated, Ronny opened the drawers and tossed a pouch of white powder onto his marble desk. Opium—cultivated and produced on the ground floors of this facility that he operated on behalf of the Grenze syndicate. Just one whiff of this fine product would send him into an indulgent realm filled with the most wonderful fantasies.

He opened the pouch with one hand, ready to go under—when all hell broke loose.

“Boss!”

The door to his office slammed open with such force that Ronny nearly fell off his chair. With as much dignity as he could muster, he composed himself and sat back upright, while trying to ignore the scotch dripping from his stained wool vest.

“What?” he snapped, not bothering to hide his anger. Normally, he would have already called for the head of the person who just barged in without warning—if not for the fact this person was wearing the vest of his personal bodyguards.

The guard who intruded had a boyish face at the frontier of adolescence and adulthood. A few nasty scars smeared along the curvature of his jaws, tainting his youthful face with a savage look. His eyes were large; their dark bluish hue gave off the impression of someone intelligent. His hair, jet-black and coarse, nearly dangled to his shoulders—abnormally long for a man.

Ronny narrowed his eyes, trying to fight off the effects of the alcohol. What was his name again? The guard was one of the newer recruits. Apparently, he made quite the impression during his evaluation.

“…Miles, was it? You better have a good reason for barging in unannounced.”

“Yes, Boss! The facility is currently under attack!”

Fuck. Ronny shot up from his seat, kicking off the wool vest wet with scotch. Miles’s words snapped him out of his stupor. Now that he was alert, he could hear the chaos rampaging outside the office.

“Who’s attacking?!”

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“Just one person. An Exalted,” Miles said, oddly calm, “We think it might be a Cleaner.”

Ronny froze. The mere mention of the word made his blood run cold. “Y-You idiot! Shit! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!” His hands were trembling uncontrollably as he rushed out of the office in a panic.

Why the hell is one of Steiger’s hounds here?! Ronny mumbled obscenities as he tried to figure out the next course of action.

He was at the basement level of his drug-manufacturing facility. As one of the executives of the Grenze syndicate, it was his job to oversee the syndicate’s money-making operations. His focus was opium processing and distribution. This facility was one of the largest under his purview.

If a Cleaner is here, then this place is as good as gone.

The Cleaners were a special task force under Steiger’s command, notorious amongst the syndicates for their brutality. Colloquially, they were called Steiger’s hounds. Each one of them was apparently an Exalted. Ronny never encountered one himself, but he had no intention of discovering if the rumors were true.

It’s a shame that I’ll lose three months of shipment, but— he shook off his regrets. There was no amount of money in this world that can buy him a second chance at life.

“We’re moving to the escape route!” he said to Miles as he ran down the corridor. The occasion echo of destruction thundered from the upper levels of the facility. Ronny winced with every cling and clank, imagining his precious facility get ripped apart into pieces. Steadily, the sounds grew louder. The Cleaner was getting close.

“Boss, you’re here!”

Footsteps rumbled from the other end of the corridor. There were three men, out of breath and drenched in sweat. Ronny recognized them as his other guards.

“What’s the status on the Cleaner?”

“He’s sweeping the entire upper levels. It won’t be long before he finds this place.”

“Then let’s go! We’re escaping to the tunnels!”

The opening to escape hatch was just up ahead. Ronny had already mapped their route in his head. The hatch led to the underground sewers of Dannan. Its sprawling networks of tunnels and passages was as disorienting as a labyrinth. Someone who was unfamiliar with its layout would get lost immediately.

I’ll need to inform the other executives. Steiger is raiding our—

The ceiling above and in front of him suddenly caved in. Ronny felt a hand on his shoulders dragging him back—just as black tendrils descended from the opening. The shadowy projections snapped down like spikes, resounding with a powerful crunch as they stabbed into the floor of the basement.

Immediately, the tendrils retracted.

Ronny broke out in cold sweat. Massive, horrific claw marks were left on the floor layered in concrete. If his guards had pulled him back a second later, then he would have been eviscerated.

Someone dropped from the ceiling. It was a man covered in an ebon cloak. His mouth was shrouded by a black cloth, weaved with the grotesque drawing of a hound’s fangs.

The Cleaner.

His guards immediately went on the offensive. Knives and machetes were unsheathed. Without an ounce of hesitation, they lunged at their foe.

“Cleave.”

Ronny’s eyes went wide. Black tendrils ruptured from the Cleaner’s shadow.

Squelch!

The speed was lightning fast. Ronny couldn’t even follow the trajectory. It was only when he heard the horrific sound of flesh and bone being torn apart that he realized the attacks landed. He stared, mouth agape, dumbfounded. His guards had been bisected vertically by the shadowy claws. Blood exploded like a fountain as their bodies split into halves, collapsing into a grotesque puddle of entrails.

M-Monster…

“Boss, get back!”

Miles was still beside him. The young man bravely stepped forward to face the Cleaner. Ronny fell on his knees in despair. W-What can you even do?! The bloodied remains of his guards painted a gruesome picture. In the face of the Cleaner’s overwhelming Gift, the young man won’t even be able to buy him time to escape.

“Such a heartwarming sight,” the Cleaner suddenly said, tearing off the cloth covering his mouth. The man had a plain appearance, sullied only by the playful smirk smeared across his face. Slowly, he approached, his footsteps echoed menacingly across the corridor.

“Ronny Kroller. An executive of the Grenze syndicate. Your offenses are almost too long to list. Violent crimes. Production of illegal substances. Distribution of illegal substances. But the most heinous of them all—” the Cleaner giggled, “—Tax evasion. That one is just unforgiveable, don’t you think?”

Ronny stood there, frozen. There was nothing for him to say. If the destruction of his facility wasn’t enough, the Cleaner had taken off his mask, revealing his appearance. The Cleaners did all of Steiger’s dirty work. As such, their identities were a closely guarded secret.

He would not leave this place alive.

“Lower Dannan might become a better place freed of your existence,” the Cleaner said, “So, convince me. Is there a reason why I should let you live?”

H-He’s giving me a chance? Ronny glanced up. His eyes brimmed with a desperate hope.

“I…I can—”

Something hot ruptured from his neck. Ronny felt the warm, sticky rain of blood splutter out of his body. He choked, gargling, suddenly unable to speak. Huh?

The attack came not from the Cleaner in front of him, but to his left. Slowly, he turned. Miles was staring him down. In his right hand was a blood-stained knife. His deep blue eyes gleamed dispassionately—cold as the abyss.

Ronny’s consciousness waned.

I see. I got played.