The Southern Nations were lands of dust and blood where loyalty was bought by coin, and names meant nothing once steel was drawn. The taverns here never slept, and the smell of smoke, ale, and iron hung in the air like an oath.

Ryn walked through the crooked streets, his black cloak fluttering under the desert wind. His eyes were sharp, sleepless the eyes of a man who had failed once and would not fail again.

He stepped into a crowded hall a den of mercenaries. Dozens of killers, hunters, and shinrei-users sat around, boasting, laughing, or sharpening their blades.

The door slammed shut behind him. Silence rippled through the room as his presence spread cold, heavy, deliberate.

Ryn's voice carried, calm but commanding:

"Who among you… is the strongest?"

A thick-bearded man stood first, towering over most. His armor was dented but proud, his sword longer than a man's arm. He laughed, slamming his blade into the ground.

"Strongest? You walk in here with no name, no scent of fear, and you dare ask that?"

The others snickered, watching.

Ryn's expression didn't change. He looked at the man then at the others, one by one.

"I'm not here to drink or boast. I'm here to hire killers. The Hollow Nine calls."

The entire room stiffened.

A whisper cut through the tension "The Hollow Nine…?"

Even the drunkest mercenary sobered. The name carried weight. Darkness. Power. Those who worked for the Hollow Nine didn't come back as heroes,they came back as whispers, as corpses, or as legends.

The bearded man sneered. "Hollow Nine? You expect us to follow those freaks? What's your proof, kid?"

Ryn slowly lifted his hand and from his palm, a faint black sigil ignited, pulsing with Shinrei energy so dense the air warped around it. The Mark of K.

Gasps filled the room. A few men stumbled back. Others gripped their weapons, uncertain whether to bow or run.

Ryn's tone was like iron dipped in ice.

"I serve Lord K — the Tactician of the Hollow Nine. Fail to answer, and I'll assume you're not worth his time."

A faint laugh echoed from the corner low, female, and dangerously amused.

A woman stood up, her red scarf fluttering behind her like flame. Her eyes burned like molten gold, and her twin daggers gleamed with faint Shinrei light.

"Then maybe you're looking for me."

Ryn's gaze shifted. "Name."

"Sierra Vance," she said with a smirk. "Ex–Crimson Veinwalker. Mercenary now. Price depends on who you want dead."

Murmurs spread again — a former Veinwalker? Here?

Ryn raised an eyebrow. "Crimson Veinwalker? Then you know what it means to fight emotion with purpose."

Sierra leaned forward. "I do. And I know what it means to kill without one."

Another voice cut in deep and heavy. A man with silver eyes, shirtless despite the cold wind, the symbol of the Ironclad Order tattooed across his chest. His arms were as thick as tree trunks.

"Sierra, you talk too much. If he wants strength, I'll show him."

The ground shook as the man stood, cracking his knuckles. "Name's Garron. Rank—Ex-Eclipse Vanguard. You pay, I break mountains. Simple."

The entire tavern went silent again.

Ryn's lips curved faintly. Not a smile more like a calculation.

"An ex-Vanguard and a fallen Veinwalker… interesting."

Sierra's eyes narrowed. "So who's the target?"

Ryn turned, cloak swaying like a shadow.

"You'll know when we move. For now, gather whoever you trust. The Hollow Nine doesn't take weaklings."

Garron's deep voice rumbled. "And the pay?"

Ryn looked over his shoulder.

"Gold, blood, or redemption. Take your pick."

He left the tavern, his footsteps echoing through the southern dust.

Behind him, the mercenaries exchanged looks fear, greed, excitement.

Sierra grinned, flipping her dagger. "He's dangerous. I like that."

Garron cracked his neck. "If he speaks true… this job might just make us gods."

As …the sunlight bled softly through the temple's cracked windows, scattering golden rays across the marble floor where Master Vince sat in silence. Before him rested a small, dark crystal — the Shard of Flesh — sealed within a circular sigil of light. The air around it hummed faintly, alive, as if the shard itself breathed.

Vince's lone hand hovered over it, tracing the faint runes glowing across its surface. His expression was calm… but his eyes, sharp and heavy with memory, betrayed the storm behind that calm.

He muttered quietly, almost to himself.

"This thing... has caused more death than any weapon I've ever seen."

A soft voice interrupted him.

"Master Vince…"

He turned.

Standing by the doorway was Mari her green cloak swaying gently, hair glinting in the light. She looked tired, but her eyes held a gentle steadiness, something like quiet determination.

Vince nodded slightly. "Mari."

She stepped closer, hesitating for a moment before speaking again.

"The twins are now… a little bit okay."

Vince's lips lifted in a faint, weary smile. "A little bit, huh?"

Mari crossed her arms, letting out a sigh. "Well, what did you expect? They were brainwashed by the Hollow Nine. It's going to take a while before they stop glaring at us like we're monsters."

Vince chuckled a deep, warm sound that seemed out of place amid the quiet tension.

"Heh. You're right. But it's good they're still fighting to exist. That means there's something left inside worth saving."

Mari leaned against the pillar beside him, her eyes shifting to the shard on the table. The sigil's light reflected in her pupils cold, mesmerizing.

"The shard of flesh" she whispered.

Vince nodded, expression sobering. "One of the Seven Forbidden Fragments. This one feeds on life on emotion itself. Even a drop of Shinrei can make it react."

Mari's brows furrowed. "And yet you keep it that close. Isn't that dangerous?"

"Everything worth protecting is," Vince replied softly.

His gaze remained locked on the shard. "When this fragment beats... it remembers. It carries pain, hunger, and every emotion devoured by it."

He clenched his fist, the muscles in his arm twitching a faint reminder of the arm he no longer had.

"That's why the Hollow Nine wants it. To them, these shards aren't curses. They're keys."

Mari stayed quiet for a long while. The faint hum of the shard filled the room like a heartbeat.

Then she said, voice low but steady:

"Master Vince… if they come for it again, what will you do?"

Vince smiled faintly not in joy, but in that tired, knowing way of a man who had already seen the end of too many wars.

"I'll do what I've always done, Mari."

Mari looked at him, her expression softening. For a moment, the stoic man before her didn't look like a legend or a master. he looked like someone carrying too many ghosts.

She said quietly, "You're a fool."

He smirked. "That's what keeps me human."

Outside, the bells of Tashi rang softly the sound of life returning after chaos.

And in the quiet hall, the Shard of Flesh pulsed once more faintly, rhythmically as if listening.

To be continue

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