It had been three years. I stood on the highest floor of a hotel suite, overlooking the expanse of the Capital City. The skyline was bathed in the warm hues of a setting sun, casting long shadows over the bustling streets below. My reflection stared back at me from the glass window—a man in a suit, disheveled and marked by the remnants of yet another mission. The tie felt like a noose, a constant reminder of the dual life I led as a Hunting Dog.

The Hunting Dogs were a shadow organization, an elite special force of Hunters operating under the sole command of the Hunter Association’s president.

Secrecy was paramount in this organization; every operative had their memories wiped clean after a mission. Most of them didn’t even know they were part of the organization, living their lives oblivious to the blood on their hands. I was the exception. I had applied for this job voluntarily, making me aware of my affiliation. But there were limits even in privileges. Like most ‘Dogs’, my memories were wiped after every mission.

Behind me, Selena idly leaned on the sofa, her dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders. She was dressed casually, a stark contrast to my formal wear, yet there was a sharpness in her eyes that never dulled. She was more than a bodyguard—a companion, a confidante, someone I could trust in this chaotic life.

"The Prophet is dead," Selena said, breaking the silence. Her voice carried a mixture of relief and lingering irritation. "And it looks like only the Saint remains. I never took the Prophet for such a slimy bastard. Can you imagine it? Even after exposing his public identity, it took this long for him to die?"

I turned away from the window and loosened my tie, letting out a sigh. "The Prophet was always the most problematic. Despite being unmasked, he had too many layers of protection, too many loyalists willing to die for him."

Selena snorted, folding her arms. "Slimy bastard indeed. But now the Elsewhere Cult is practically finished. The Saint might be formidable, but he’s alone. The power structure has crumbled. It’s only a matter of time before he gets what’s coming to him."

I nodded, though her words didn’t bring the sense of finality I’d hoped for. The Cult’s influence had loomed over my life for years, and while this was a victory, it felt hollow. Too much blood had been spilled, too many lives shattered in the pursuit of bringing them down.

“Do you think it’s really over?” I asked, more to myself than to her.

Selena tilted her head, studying me. “The Prophet was the brains behind the operation like you said. Without him, the Saint’s just a zealot with no direction. We’ll get him too, Reynard. This ends with us.”

Her confidence was reassuring, but I couldn’t shake the unease that clung to me. Every mission as a Hunting Dog left me with an uncomfortable sensation, a hollow emptiness that no amount of victories could fill. Memories of faces, of screams, of things I’d done and witnessed—they never truly faded, even if the Association’s mind-wiping technology ensured that most of my comrades didn’t carry the same burden.

Selena’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “You’ve been staring into space for a while now. You’re not going to brood all night, are you? We’ve got reasons to celebrate.”

I gave her a small smile. “Celebrate, huh? How do you suggest we do that?”

She grinned, leaning back into the sofa with a casual air. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ditch the suit, have a drink, and actually act like a human being for once? Or we could just sit here in silence while you overthink everything. Your call, King of Favors.”

Her teasing tone made me chuckle despite myself. “Alright, alright. Maybe I could use a break.”

Selena reached for the bottle of wine she’d brought earlier, pouring two glasses. As she handed me one, her expression softened. “We’ve come a long way, you know. Don’t lose sight of that. The Cult’s grip is weakening. You’ve done more than most could ever dream of.”

I took the glass and had a sip.

“Just a little bit more and I will be free from this lifestyle…”

I’d specialized in bounty hunting for a while now. The pay was good, great even. I’d been rolling in dough for months, but no matter how much I earned, it never felt like enough. The Elsewhere Cult was bigger than I’d ever imagined. Their reach extended beyond borders, beyond even the World Wall. Their influence was like a shadow, creeping into places I’d thought untouchable.

I leaned against the suite’s window, the cool glass pressing against my forehead as I stared out over Capital City. The twinkling lights stretched as far as I could see, but none of them held the warmth I craved.

“I’ve accumulated enough merits to request the Association’s resources in full force,” I muttered, almost to myself. My reflection in the glass looked tired, older than I remembered. “With their active participation, things should quickly change. The kill order for the Elsewhere Saint has been raised a few levels now. It won’t be long before the Saint kicks the bucket, and I can finally go home.”

Home. The word tasted bittersweet. It had been three long years since I’d held Leora in my arms or heard Leon’s laughter in person. My boy should be five years old by now. Five. I couldn’t even picture what he looked like anymore. Had he gotten taller? Did he inherit his mother’s stubborn streak? Did he still cry out for me at night, or had he learned to forget his father, the man who left to fight monsters?

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Selena stretched on the sofa, her posture lazy but her eyes sharp. “You know,” she said, her voice cutting through my thoughts, “you could always delegate this. Plenty of capable hunters in the Association would jump at the chance to bring down the… Saint. It isn’t every day hunters get a chance at fighting a shadowy cabal. I mean, you could just sit back and wait for the news, right?”

I snorted. “One wrong move, and we’re back to square one. I'd rather stay on the field juts to make sure he dies with finality.”

She smirked, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Always the perfectionist. You sure you’re not just stalling? Afraid to face the missus after all this time?”

Her jab hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. “She knows why I’m doing this,” I said, my voice firm. “She might not like it, but she understands. This is the only way to keep them safe.”

Selena shrugged, the movement fluid and dismissive. “If you say so. Just don’t wait too long. Women like Leora don’t stay on the shelf forever, you know.”

I shot her a look, and she held up her hands in mock surrender. “Kidding, kidding. You’re the great Reynard Bright, King of Favors. Who could compete with that?”

“Please, you know me better than that.” I smiled.

Selena tilted her head, watching me with a lazy grin. “Who was it again that killed the Prophet? You promised something ridiculous on a live broadcast, didn’t you? A divine favor or whatever? What was the guy’s name again?”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Loki.”

“Loki gets it. Delegation, see?” Her grin widened. “Yeah, that guy. Loki from the Undead Troupe. What a weirdo. Seriously, a bunch of wackos if you ask me. He asked me to join his troupe again last week, can you believe it? Total buzzard. What do you think? Should I join?”

“Loki, huh,” I muttered, half to myself. The name conjured an image of the man—lean, sharp-eyed, and perpetually smug. Loki O. Loki. A wildcard if there ever was one. It felt like just yesterday he had appeared unannounced in my kitchen.

It had been a quiet morning—or as quiet as life could be when you were neck-deep in a war against a cult. I’d been fixing myself a cup of coffee when I walked into the kitchen and found him already there, humming some ridiculous tune while he boiled water.

“Morning,” he’d said casually, like he belonged there, lifting the kettle to pour himself a cup. And then, with that ever-present grin, he’d plopped the decapitated head of the Elsewhere Prophet onto my countertop.

I stared at it, blinking in stunned silence. “What the hell, Loki?”

He’d shrugged. “Thought I’d save you some trouble. Guy wasn’t much of a Prophet, if you ask me. Too many loose ends.” He sipped his coffee, utterly unfazed. “So, about that divine favor...”

Back in the present, Selena snapped her fingers, bringing me out of the memory. “Earth to Reynard. What’s the verdict? Should I join his merry band of freaks, or what?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’d fit right in with them, but I’m not sure the world’s ready for that level of chaos.”

Selena laughed, her voice light and carefree. “Fair enough. But seriously, Loki’s got a vibe. A little unhinged, but you can’t deny he gets results. The Prophet’s head? Classic Loki.”

I nodded, my mind drifting. Loki was a wildcard, yes, but he was also the kind of ally who could upend the board in your favor. It didn’t make me trust him, not entirely, but it made him useful. And in my line of work, useful was enough—for now.

The sound of polished heels clicked against the floor as the brunette entered the room. She was a vision in a tailored suit, complemented by a red tie and an elegant ribbon in her hair. Her features were striking—fair skin, strong oriental lines, an oval face with a beauty mark near her lips, and a figure that would make heads turn. She moved with poise, her every step measured and purposeful.

This was Reina—my Soul Doll.

I didn’t choose for her to look like that. She had just… turned out that way. Since my grueling fight with the Elsewhere Hero, she had undergone a series of evolutions, adapting and refining herself until she had developed something akin to a personality matrix. She even gave herself a name, a derivative of mine.

Reina’s voice was soft yet commanding. “Father, you have a visitor.”

And yes, she addressed me as Father. It was a little unsettling at first, but I’d gotten used to it. She regarded me with an air of deference, her tone formal but carrying a hint of warmth.

Following close behind her was a petite woman in an equally crisp uniform. Her dark hair was tied neatly back, and she carried herself with a newfound sense of purpose. Sarah Maldave—once a fervent cultist and now a devout atheist, thanks to what she called my "enlightenment."

“Milord,” Sarah began, bowing slightly. “Most of the Cult’s assets have been transferred for your use. Additionally, a significant number of our former members have been converted. All thanks to you enlightening us to the Truth.”

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Converted, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

Sarah straightened, her expression a mix of pride and determination. “Yes, Milord. Your words, your actions—they’ve shown us the path. The Prophet’s lies no longer bind us.”

Reina, ever the observant one, interjected with her usual precision. “The redistribution of the Cult’s resources will require your approval, Father. Shall I proceed with the arrangements?”

I glanced at her, appreciating how far she had come. What started as a weapon—a Soul Doll forged for battle—had grown into something far more sophisticated. Reina wasn’t just a tool; she was becoming a partner, someone who could think, plan, and act in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

I turned my attention back to Sarah. “And the Saint?”

Sarah hesitated, her demeanor momentarily faltering. “The Saint remains elusive, Milord. But with the Prophet gone and the organization crumbling, it’s only a matter of time. Your leadership has—”

“Spare me the flattery,” I said, cutting her off with a wave of my hand. “Focus on results.”

“Yes, Milord,” she said quickly, her face reddening slightly.

Reina tilted her head, studying Sarah with a curious expression. “Efficiency is key,” she said softly, her tone carrying a subtle hint of amusement.

The room fell quiet for a moment. As much as I wanted to celebrate the progress we’d made, I knew there was still a long road ahead. The Saint wasn’t going to fall as easily as the Prophet.

“Keep me updated,” I finally said, rising to my feet. “Both of you.”

Reina gave a slight nod, her ribbon swaying with the movement. “As you wish, Father.”

Sarah bowed again before turning to leave, her petite form vanishing through the doorway.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the space they’d vacated. The fight wasn’t over, not by a long shot. But with allies like these, maybe—just maybe—I’d see the end of it. And maybe, just maybe, I’d finally get to go home.