Mr. Atlas, apparently, ran the store. And all the battle-hardened murderers, all the warring factions, paid him money for goods.

"...But…how?" I asked. "Why don't they, the Bounty Hall, just take over your store?"

Mr. Atlas went over to a cooler and fetched himself a can of soda. "They've got money. What's the point of being rich if you never spend it?"

That made some sense, I suppose. To them, Atlas's products probably cost mere chump change. Maybe it just wasn't worth the risk of fighting him.

"And I see you've heard of them," Atlas added.

"The Bounty Hall?" I asked. "Yeah. Fought them even."

"Thought you'd be more cautious than that. They're dangerous enemies."

I exhaled a solemn sigh. "I was cornered. Had to do it."

"Mhm," Atlas said. "Take anything you want, by the way." He gestured towards the store's shelves. "Don't be shy–"

"They took Saber."

His hand halted in the air. His finger twitched, visible through his gauntlet.

"I see," he said.

A lump caught in my throat.

"They took Saber," I repeated. It was the first time I told anyone. And it hurt so, so much. "They took her life."

I knew that wasn't true technically. Jack killed her, and the Bounty Hall forced his hand. Which was worse. Not only did they take Saber, but even Jack too. He was now dead to me.

I had grown weary of grief; instead, I channeled my pain into anger.

"I'll make them pay," I swore.

Mr. Atlas nodded. "Alright. So be it."

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He confessed to me that he had considered joining the Bounty Hall. Being a shopkeeper wasn't horrible, he admitted, but life was perilous here without powerful friends.

"Sounds like I won't be doing that anymore," he said.

"Have you considered joining the Liberation's Call Syndicate?" I asked. "They seem a bit nicer."

"Oh," Atlas propped his table on the cashier's counter. "They're no less power hungry. No less willing to kill. Arguably shadier, too."

"If I join a faction, it's the only option left," I pointed out. "I killed Bounty Hall people. I bet they want me dead now. Though…purely hypothetical, but is there any chance the Bounty Hall and LCS wipe each other out eventually? I mean that would be ideal, if we can somehow nudge them in that direction."

"The Bounty Hall can be dismantled," Atlas said. "But not the LCS. Their chain of command goes beyond Gold. Their presence here is just a shadow of their core organization."

"Bummer. You think so?"

"Heard enough to know." He checked his phone for a brief moment. "Sophia. The next Seasonal Challenge is coming up in 15 days. I'm sure you've heard of the PvP mechanic by now."

"Yeah. In place of an arena battle against robots, we can fight other humans."

"Right. If you want to fight, now's the time."

I began to pace about as I pondered his words. I grabbed a bottle of apple juice from a shelf and took a swig.

"As in? Kill a couple Bounty Hall members, then use that to prove our allegiance to the LCS?"

I wondered if that would even work. They were rival factions, right? If I offed a couple Bounty Hall members, maybe that'd buy me enough favor with Jal, that druid, and his colleagues.

"It's a risky maneuver, admittedly. I know I brought it up, but it's likely safer to just do a normal Seasonal Challenge. Find a third party member, go for 3v3, that'd work out. And we won't have to shed blood."

"We're killing killers," I pointed out. "Who can we take out to earn the most brownie points? Actually, who's the Bounty Hall leader? Don't think I ever found out."

A frown crossed Atlas's brows. "An elusive man. The deadliest hunter of them all, they say. Impossible to track, impossible to avoid, and impossible to defeat."

"I mean, if they're that good, why are they in Gold and not Platinum?"

"Who knows. Not a single target ever survived his hunt. He's good enough at killing to move up from Gold. But he's also good enough at killing to want to stay.

"Does the leader have a name?" I asked, taking another sip of apple juice.

"He's an enigma. Few know of his name, though I've heard rumors in my dealings." Mr Atlas scanned the area outside the shop. Seeing no one there, he leaned in and lowered his voice. "That man goes by the name of Cirrus."

I spit my drink, laughing.

"Oh," I wheezed, and Atlas fetched me a napkin to wipe my chin.

"OK then," I said. "That probably makes things a lot simpler."