The night was cool, and the sky was beautiful. While Campers brooded under the Spire, a song was carried on the wind. It was not a song from any generic musical instrument. It was gentle—a soft, airy melody that calmed the heart and chilled the mind.

Night in the Base was always dark and heavy, with adventurers drinking away their fatigue within the insulated walls of the city’s plentiful taverns and storekeepers fast asleep in preparation for the bustle of the next day.

But the streets were graced with a song, one accompanied by a fittingly elegant dance—but no one was there to appreciate it. Only flickering shadows hinted at patrolling Guards and the silent stares of yawning alleyways.

One man and his sword—as one, they moved in a unified rhythm. With the help of the night breeze, the blade cut through the air and produced a soulful melody.

The dancer moved as he danced through streets and past alleyways until he arrived at the Guard House. There, he stopped.

He filled his lungs with one deep breath of the cool air, but a sharp pain in his chest forced him to stop and sputter. Blood bubbled from his lips. The man beat his chest lightly until the coughing stopped, then sighed.

“In the end, with these shackles on, I am too weak.”

Upon his arrival, the Guards gave him only two options: receive the shackles or die. It hadn’t been the time to fall out with the Spire, so he allowed them to restrict him. Now, he had failed his mission because of it.

If he had been unrestricted, President Richard Thompson would have been no more by the end of the night,

He inspected the steel sword in his hand. The blade reflected the faint moonlight.

It was a weak weapon, far inferior to those the Spire made and distributed to the Legions and the Camps, but with it, he was certain of slaying the President within two strikes. The attack this night... . He would consider it as one meant to probe the President’s abilities.

The swordsman entered the gates. The many Guards in the shadows did not stop him. Soon, he was walking into his apartment.

Leaving the door open behind him, he went to the wall, placed the sword on its hook, and bowed. A few seconds went by. He raised his head.

“Come in, Phantom,” he said without looking back, “and close the door. It’s about time you mentioned why you’ve been tailing me. Don’t ask how I know; the stench of defeat all over you was too strong for me to miss.”

The door swung closed. The swordsman smiled and turned. Phantom stood there, his Bone-embroidered robes torn and bloody. Errant moonlight lit the room enough to show the bruises and blood stains that marred his dark skin.

Phantom spoke after a brief pause. “You were the other one.” His tone was final. There was no doubt in his heart.

“Yes.” The swordsman was straightforward. “But unlike you, I’m in good shape, mostly whole.” He smiled. “Is it that you’re only strong but not smart?”

Phantom was as impassive as ever. “I was overconfident. The President seems to have some ability. It won’t be the same when I face him again.”

“So you say,” the swordsman intoned. “However, with such a dull mind, you won’t win even if your bonds were released.”

Phantom bristled, but the swordsman raised a hand. “You’re in my presence. Tell me why this is so.”

Phantom stared at him with narrowed eyes for a long moment, but he eventually took a deep breath. “Listen. I—”

“If you have come here with a proposal of treason, I suggest you leave this instant.”

Phantom’s eyelids twitched. “Don’t pretend like you’re any better—”

“You don’t understand.” The swordsman shook his head. “I’m not interested in explaining it to you. Leave.” He gestured at the door.

“I—” Phantom started speaking again, but the swordsman interrupted again.

“Black Peak Organization." Phantom flinched. “Legendary swordsman. The revered Shadow Sage.”

Phantom was silent, but the swordsman could see the fire behind his eyes, building up within him. He smiled.

“The Shadow Sage was a great warrior, one of the strongest abnormals in the world... pity he was gutted like an animal and fed to the dogs right in the center of his territory.” The swordsman laughed.

Phantom vanished. The swordsman smiled. A silver half-moon bloomed.

His ambush thwarted, Phantom retreated from the swordsman’s vicinity and vanished before the swordsman could do anything. However, the swordsman stood straight, not worried at all. A moment later, he slashed at what should have been empty air. Sparks burst as the sword met a curved dagger once, twice, then several times in rapid succession.

Phantom lived up to his name and reputation. He disappeared and reappeared anywhere at will, moving like a true inhabitant of the netherworld. The swordsman was impeccable, his sword thrusting at the most efficient moment to interrupt the attack. As the seconds wore on and the luminescent sparks spread across the surroundings, it was increasingly obvious that Phantom couldn't gain the upper hand.

He still has a bit of skill, the swordsman thought idly. No matter how he attempted to attack Phantom after his ambush, he could only slash through an afterimage.

Still, it ends here.

A silver glow suddenly emanated from the sword, accelerating it beyond its previous limits. Phantom, who had been in the middle of stabbing his dagger into the swordsman’s neck, could only fend off the first strike. The second one dug into his flesh. Blood sprayed.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

A moment later, Phantom disappeared, but the damage had been done. He reappeared a short distance away, clutching his side. Tendrils of blood seeped through and over his fingers.

The swordsman made a grunt of surprise. “You managed to avoid a lethal hit? You have my respect.”

“You... How did you crack my skill?” Phantom tightened his grip on his blade, baring his teeth.

“You are weak,” the swordsman said nonchalantly. After wiping away the blood thoroughly, he returned the sword to its place on the wall again. “Your skills are laughable in my eyes.”

Phantom’s eyes flashed. Rise, the swordsman thought. Let it rise even further.

The tension in the air was thick. On one side was the Phantom, who cut a sorry sight with his ragged robes and dripping wounds; on the other side was the swordsman, who seemed unable to sense Phantom’s rising anger.

“You want to join my team?” The swordsman said abruptly. “Very well. I’ll allow it. Even though you are weak, your goals are worthy, insignificant as they are. Revenge is such a weak reason for existence. I, on the other hand, am after something far superior.”

Is it falling now?... No, he is only suppressing it.

Phantom heaved a sigh and relaxed his stance. “I had heard stories of the skill of the Chasm Sage of the North but never understood it fully until now. When I’m healed, we will have another battle. But for now...” There was a pause. “For now, I will do as you say.”

The swordsman nodded. “As it should be. I know how prone you are to revenge, so I’ll only advise you this once. That thought of getting back at me... You’d do well to put it away. For your own good.”

Phantom snorted. “I’ll make that decision.”

Shrugging, the swordsman said, “Up to you. Don’t say I did not warn you then.”

Phantom scoffed. He turned to leave.

“By the end of tomorrow, I want the rest of the team here. I trust your eyes are, at the very least, observant enough to do that.”

Phantom slammed the door. The swordsman—Chasm—was not bothered by this show of arrogance. Instead, he calmed his breathing and slowly began his sword dance, this time barehanded.

The banquet never came to a definite end. If one had to pick an exact time it ended, it would be the moment the last Camper left the hall and returned to their room.

Eldon and Zachary did not see this happen, naturally, as they had long since left the banquet. At the moment, Eldon was crouched on the roof of a residential block, staring hard into the darkness below.

No matter how hard he stared, his mind could not help but wander back to the words Zachary had spoken to him some time ago.

“It’s easy. I promise. You agree that we can only survive this if we join an S-rank team, right? Then trust me on this.”

“But... How do we know that this S-rank will take someone like... Will take a D-rank into their team?” Eldon had clearly expressed his uncertainty.

“Oh, I know. That’s why I say you should trust me. Look, among all the Campers of Robin Camp, let me assure you that I am the closest person to him.” He had puffed out his chest at this point. “Nobody else has entered his dorm, only me. You can’t even call it a dorm with how furnished it is. You remember when I told you I'd seen furniture like the ones in our room before, right? That’s where I saw it—in his apartment. Do you believe me now?”

And, given that Zachary had surely been unaware of the mission when they had just arrived at Spire’s Base, Eldon had no choice but to believe in him. Maybe he had a connection to this S-rank. Just maybe...

Light footsteps jolted Eldon out of his memories. He turned. Zachary approached him, his Bone-embroidered robes blending with the dark of midnight. The elegant bones on the robes shone, standing out in the darkness like omens of impending death.

“Find anything?” Zachary asked.

Eldon shook his head. “Nothing...” If I saw something, I’m sure I’d have noticed even if I wasn’t paying attention...

“Let’s move on then. He’s not on the other residential buildings, either. We have to check further away.”

“Okay,” Eldon said, rising to his feet. “Why does this S-rank like roofs, though?”

“No one knows. And it’s not just roofs; he has been found in the arenas, dungeons, and sometimes in the portion of the Robin Woods, which we’re allowed to wander through. I have never seen it happen, but it is so well-known that it must be true. No one knows why he does it. I guess that he likes open spaces devoid of people. That has to be why he wanders around at night instead of sleeping like everyone else.”

Eldon nodded slowly.

“The residential area extends vaguely that way,” Zachary said, pointing in a direction. “We started early. We should be able to check everywhere before morning.”

“What if...” Eldon began to speak but trailed off.

“Hm? What?”

What if the S-rank arrives here after we’ve left? What then?

“... Nothing.”

There was no point in asking. No, that wasn’t it... He was being too cynical. All these were realistic questions, but how much of it was under their control? There was no point pestering Zachary with these questions, especially when Eldon knew he did not have the answers.

Plus... Eldon shot a side glance at Zachary. He’s doing all this for my sake because I’m too weak.

Again, Eldon had the urge to ask Zachary a question. Why are you helping me? What is your true purpose? Are you trying to worm your way into my head and manipulate me for your benefit? What are you getting out of this?

But in the end, he held his tongue. The words Zachary had spoken earlier that day still rang in his head.

“If I am to change that and create a better world, where one’s allies are trustworthy, and where teamwork matters much more than individual strength, then I have to be that change.”

At the time, those words seemed like the words of someone too young—inexperienced with the world. Now... As Eldon looked at Zachary’s profile, those words struck him as much more than that.

There was still no proof or evidence that Zachary was genuine, but Eldon was willing to... was willing to... trust him—at least for now.

“Do you see something?” Zachary asked.

Eldon jolted. He’d been staring for a bit too long. However, he was saved from spouting a hastily constructed excuse.

Two soft glows approached from the dark that only he could see.

Vital energy! And such intensity!

Zachary noticed something wrong with Eldon’s expression and hurriedly turned around, settling into a battle stance with one hand held forward.

He must have sensed their approach somehow.

“Who’s there? Sneaking about like a rat—what bad intentions are you hiding?” Zachary called out. “Show yourselves!”

The two approaching abnormals paused, probably engaging in silent conversation. Eldon tensed. His fingernails slowly grew longer, curvier, and bloodier. His blood boiled as energy arose from deep within him, strengthening his physique and heightening his reflexes.

From Zachary’s serious expression, Eldon knew he could also sense the strength of the approaching figures. Both of them had vital energies on par with B-ranks. Even here, where so many strong Campers had gathered, B-ranks were the cream of the crop. For two people of such strength to be lurking about at midnight...

The two seemed to have completed their short discussion and approached faster than before. By now, Eldon was already half-transformed. He opened his eyes wide, hoping he would at least be able to see the attack's trajectory if one came. Unnatural heat suffused the area, and Zachary was the source. He gave Eldon the feeling of a volcano on the verge of erupting.

“If it isn’t my man, Zachary!” As soon as the two were within combat range, a playful voice cleared the air of tension, followed by a laugh. “Listen to yourself. ‘Sneaking about like a rat, what bad intentions are you hiding?’—what would you say you’re doing on the roof this fine midnight then, huh?”

Eldon saw Zachary’s face contort in surprise and knew he was no different. The voice was a familiar one.

In sync, they wordlessly agreed to keep the battle stance until they were sure.

Truly, the two abnormals emerged from the darkness and stopped a short distance away. One was a stout lad of average height whose robes could not fully hide his protruding belly, and the other was a short and wiry boy with short, stringy black hair and an overall nervous disposition.