Zacko knocked on the fancy wooden door, waited for a moment then knocked again, harder this time.

Something shuffled on the other side.

His foot started tapping and the sound echoed far in the endless hallways. He grunted and banged at the door with full force.

The orange wood cracked under his fist and the door opened.

“What is it--”

“Where is she?” Zacko asked, his voice rough.

The headmaster--a bald old lady in a magenta nuns’ outfit--frowned. “Learning. For her future.”

“It’s almost night,” Zacko said. “I'll ask again -- where is she?”

“You have no matter in here.”

“Firstly, she’s my sister.” Zacko stepped forth and the headmaster flinched. “Secondly, I know what you do in there, crone.”

“In the name of--”

Zacko barged in, pushing the woman away. He didn’t have time for nonsense

She limped after him, but a few moments later, grabbed her knee and groaned.

He passed dozens of kids’ drawings in red that hung on the room’s weathered walls and dodged sickly children that laid on the ground.

You fools! Zacko thought, turning into a damp corridor. Why would you make a kid go here and bind them with a contract?!

The Geijo orphanage was the worst place in Company’s Heart. Not the worst orphanage or the worst school. The worst place. Underground fighting rings and shady distilleries had established themselves under the streets, but nothing in the massive city made Zacko as sick to the stomach as Geijo.

He reached the other side of the hallway and faced a section of the wall made from stone bricks. He kicked it. A bang echoed behind the wall. He ran his hands across the bricks.

Here.

Zacko tugged on the brick until it popped out and the wall began shifting. As the entrance opened, he dashed inside.

In the tiny chamber, ten kids, chained to one another, ran in circles, chanting while two fought in the middle. In the corners, ladies in magenta outfits watched.

Nila wasn’t here. Zacko was relieved knowing the old crones didn’t force her to do that. Then, a bit of fear gripped him -- what if they made her do something worse?

He rushed out into another corridor. This one led to a different room whose secret entrance had already been opened. Zacko got in and a grin rose on his face. The kids in the tiny chamber had beaten down the ladies and broken into a fight. Nila was in the midst of it all. She used Zacko’s trick, slicing everyone who neared her with razor blades hidden under her nails. Time was running out, yet Zacko stood still.

Beautiful, he thought.

A pair of boys ganged up on Nila. One jumped on her back while the other grabbed her forearms and kicked her.

Zacko sprung to life, smashing one boy then punching the other senseless.

“You alright?” He asked.

Nila wiped the sweat off her brown forehead and nodded. “It’s happening?”

Zacko shook his head. “Yes… no… No time to explain. We gotta get out of here.”

Nila started running, but Zacko grabbed her. “I’ll carry you. It’ll be faster this way.”

Nila hesitated, but then jumped up. She weighed a lot more than the last time he had her on his back, but he could still manage.

Zacko covered his head with the green hood of his tunic, put on white gloves and handed Nila a cloth. The company didn’t discriminate--everyone equally faced Guardian’s wrath--but foolhardy and angry peasants did.

He ran out into the almost endless halls of the Educationary Palace, reached the stairway and slid down the railing. On the third floor, the Geijin orphanage managed to remain cold whether it be winter or summer. Though the first floor was different - reflected the true heat of the day.

Zacko, exiting through the grand arch, struggled to breath -- he fought the urge to take off his hood and gloves.

His steed waited by the statue of a bookshelf.

Zacko put Nila on, unwrapped the rope from the statue’s leg and jumped atop the horse himself. He pulled and he kicked, and they rode off into the hectic and tense streets of Company’s Heart.

***

The calm of the night forest engulfed them. Zacko took off his hood and Nila unwrapped the cloth from around her face. She shuffled her hair -- half of her head was shaven while the other was curly and caused heaps of trouble with hats.

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“You know I haven’t been on your horse since parents died,” she said. “These animals are amazing.”

“I only joined the company after you got sent out to that orphanage.”

“Then whose horse was it?”

“Lerlaim’s…”

“Oh…” Nila sighed. “Well, this horse is amazing too. Why are we going now?”

“I had a better idea,” Zacko said. “When all hell breaks loose, everyone will be panicking and rushing. So, I decided we leave now. The tension is high and the commanders are preparing. It’s perfect: not too calm and not to chaotic. Guess I was right. We slipped out and no one noticed.”

“What if we get caught up in the middle of a battle? Why couldn’t’ve we ran after the first rush finished?”

“Cause my idea is better.”

They approached a convoy of carriages and lowered their heads until they passed.

“Where are we going? Still to San Aro?” Nila asked. “Or did you have a better idea about that too?”

“Nope, San Aro it is.”

“Long journey ahead.” Nila sighed.

“Long? Yes, but also shorter than you think,” Zacko said. “By the next nightfall, time will stop making sense. Trust me, I’ve had many long journeys.”

"I still don't understand why you left -- didn't you have only twenty quests left?”

“Thirty quests. I don’t want to take the risk of being sent out to the frontlines if this mess turns into a slaughter like everyone says. I’d rather collect my wage, take this risk and run away with you.” Zacko slowed his horse and petted it. “And... I'm tired of this continent... I'm tired of it hating us.”

Nila hugged him from behind.

Through the woods, a sign came into view. Center-Sword, it read.

“Gotta stop in this town.” Zacko turned his steed towards the sign.

“What? Why?”

“I took money, but didn’t think about supplies. We’ll be in and out in five minutes. I promise.”

***

He left the horse in the middle of the desolate, circle shaped town and headed towards a tiny store. It was like a concoction gone wrong: a part of its walls were red, a part wooden and another one black.

Zacko entered through the open entrance and pinched his nose. The smell hit him instantly. It wasn’t terrible. No, it was too sweet for him.

The shoppe contained everything: fruits, pastries, clothes, horse goodies and weapons.

Zacko opened his bag of coins. All that saving up was worth it.

He grabbed salted meats, breads, a pair of shoes and a dagger then headed towards the darkest corner of the store. There, the salesman sat and smoked.

“Oh, we have a buyer,” the man said. “Oh, a not-so-small purchase I see.”

“A not-so-small journey’s ahead of me.”

“Oh, that dagger’s good,” the salesman said. “But it’s not what I’d buy. Oh, I offer you something better. Oh, something cheaper and many times more effective. Something unique and incredible!”

Zacko rolled his eyes. “Right, what overpriced southern steel sword are you trying to sell me?”

“See, that’s the thing: it’s not a sword,” the man said. “It’s not a gun as well. No, it’s better.”

“I don’t have time.” Zacko grunted. “Just say it already!”

“Gword!”

Zacko furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Gword!”

“Are you choking?”

The salesman shook his head, crouched and took something out from under his shabby table. It was a sword with a complete revolver as a handle.

Zacko’s jaw dropped. “Gword,” he uttered.

“Indeed, my great invention!”

“Does it work and how much are you charging?!”

“Oh, this baby works and it’s yours for only twenty five.”

Zacko grabbed his coin bag, took a bunch of coins and threw them on the table.

The salesman grinned, swiped the money into his hand and handed Zacko his new weapon. “Oh, I wish you an easy journey,” he said. “Oh, and I wish you kill lots of bandits with my baby!”

Zacko pocketed everything and walked out of the tiny shop, observing his impulse purchase.

Damn, buying this was a mistake.

It’s just a revolver I can stab myself with.

What bullets does it even use?

Ah, no time to ask.

Zacko raised an eyebrow. Nila wasn’t on the horse. He opened his mouth to shout her name, but he froze.

Under a tall pine, Nila talked with a man who sat on a boulder. In fact, calling that thing a man was like calling the Ocean of Continents a dirty puddle of blood. Similar in nothing except shape.

The black void had a bulky humanoid figure and sucked all the life from the surrounding area, filling it with bleakness. The creature got into Zacko's mind as well, pumping it full of terrible ideas and awful sights. The things in his head weren't lies or visions meant to make him mad -- they were all true and dark secrets of the world.

He wanted to scream to his sister, grab her or do anything to keep her safe. But an invisible force pushed down on him from every direction. After a moment, his mind cleared from awfulness. Still, he could only stand and stare with painful lucidity.  

“What are you?” Nila asked the blackness.

“I am Throck,” the blackness responded with an uncanny voice, “the one who thinks.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I think.”

“About what?”

“Things I cannot change. I am old. I have made so many mistakes that they should not faze me anymore, but I think nonetheless.”

“Why are you like this? All black and everything?”

“Because I am frail and I cannot hide who I am.”

The force pushing on Zacko vanished and he bolted. With shaking hands, he grabbed Nila and stumbled away from the black figure.

“What are you doing, Zacko?” Throck said.

Zacko ignored the voice, dashing towards his steed.

“I asked a question!” Throck roared.

The force returned, squishing Zacko.

“I am saving my sister.” He growled.

“You think I’ll hurt her?”

“I do.”

“She is incredible. I see things in her. I won't hurt her, though I’ll hurt you.”

The force disappeared and Zacko gasped for air. He dropped Nila, pushed her towards the horse and turned to Throck.

The creature stood up, stepped forth and molded into four. Then it turned to sixteen and eventually to thirty two clones.

The black figures circled Zacko and marched towards him.

He slapped his horse and drew his gword. Nila cried out from behind. He glanced at her then focused at the terrifying sight in front.

Zacko took a deep breath and charged, swinging his sword. Then, he collapsed to the ground, his ears ringing. He grabbed the huge wound in his chest.

His shaky hand had slipped on the gword's trigger.

“You think you can change anythng?” Throck asked and let out a quick laugh. “You are nothing more than a mercenary of a puppet, my friend.”