Friday night. Dark Town District.

Fyar ran. Each breath was hot and painful in his lungs. The throbbing pain from his injured left shoulder now spread through his entire upper arm.

He turned sharply into a narrow alley between two tall, decaying stone buildings. This alley was dark, lit only by the dim glow from the crystal lanterns on the main street far behind him. The air here smelled foul, a sharp mix of ammonia, rotting garbage, and a clogged sewer.

He stopped, leaning his tired back against the cold, damp stone wall.

I have to get out of the city. I have to move to the second plan. I have to contact Zaefal... no. That might be risky. I have to execute the second plan first!

Fyar narrowed his eyes slightly behind the mask. There are two possibilities. It was Whitening or Martis. But Martis... why? Whitening... she was clearly Whitening. Her goal? Who hired her?

"HE'S THERE! DON'T LET HIM ESCAPE!"

Shouts heard from both ends of the alley, bouncing off the narrow stone walls.

Damn it!

Fyar straightened his body, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. On both sides, at the dark ends of the alley, silhouettes began to appear, blocking his exit. Five men from one side, five from the other. Ten men. Fyar recognized some of them as members of the Iron Fangs Gang from their clothes; the rest were rough-looking bounty hunters.

"That five-hundred-gold prize is ours!" one of them shouted.

The ten men ran, attacking Fyar simultaneously from both directions. The sound of their hurried footsteps was heard in the alley.

Fyar quickly drew his katana. The blade reflected the dim light from the distant lanterns.

Fyar took a long breath and muttered, "Whatever happens... happens."

The first two reached him. One swung an axe, the other thrust a dagger.

Fyar ducked under the axe swing, letting the man's momentum carry him past. At the same time, he stepped forward,

SST!

The blade slashed the dagger man's neck. A quiet tearing sound was heard, followed by blood sprayed onto the stone wall beside him.

Fyar spun, thrusting his katana backward, piercing the back of the axe-man who had just turned.

He pulled his blade out and kicked the corpse into the three other men who had just arrived, making them stumble over their companion's body.

"GO HOME IDIOT! VALUE YOUR LIFE!" Fyar shouted, his voice hoarse from anger and exhaustion.

But the words meant nothing. Five hundred gold coins had blinded them.

They're fucking crazy man... Why do they keep coming? They should know they can't win after seeing me!

Three men from the Iron Fangs Gang attacked him from behind. Fyar turned, his katana moving quickly.

He parried one sword slash, sparks flying as the metals met. He spun his body.

SST!

He cut the man's hand off at the wrist.

"FUUCKKK! IT HURTS, YOU DOG!"

The man screamed, clutching his severed arm. Fyar continued his spin.

SST!

He slashed the second man's leg, making him fall to his knees. He ended the motion with a straight thrust through the third man's chest, who died instantly.

The remaining crowd stopped. They hesitated, their gaze fixed on Fyar, who stood in the middle of a pile of bodies, his katana dripping blood onto the wet ground.

"He must be tired...KILL THAT BITCH!" one of them whispered, trying to convince himself.

Fyar lunged forward.

A thrust to the eye.

SST!

A slash to the neck.

SST!

SPLASH!!

A cut to a femoral artery.

In less than three minutes,

the remaining five mean death

The narrow alley was silent. Ten men lay on the ground, their bodies cut apart and incomplete. Their pooling blood began to mix with the dirty sewer water.

Fyar stood in the middle of it all, his breathing slightly heavy. The metallic smell of blood now overpowered the foul stench of the alley.

He muttered in a hoarse voice, his emotions overflowing. "Why... why are you all so stupid, just for gold coins! You could have just gone to sleep, and tomorrow you would live your normal lives and go back to gambling! You idiots!"

After taking a deep breath to calm himself, Fyar flicked the blood from his katana and sheathed it. The scabbard made a soft click. He walked out of the alley, leaving the massacre behind him.

He returned to the slightly busier main street of Dark Town. The people who saw him. a man in a white mask, his black coat wet with blood, screamed in panic and ran away, bumping into each other.

"THERE HE IS! STARFALL!"

A man with short blond hair stood in the middle of the street with three companions. Fyar recognized him from the bar: Jax, the Level 16 Lightning Hunter.

Fyar's expression behind the mask turned grim again.

"Jack... go home, Jack! I don't want to kill you!" Fyar shouted again, his voice sounding tired.

"Die, you murderer! You are the scum of the earth! You killed the man who fed you! You ungrateful bastard!" Jax yelled. He raised his hand, and orbs of bluish-white electricity began to form in his palm, crackling and emitting the smell of ozone.

Fyar bit his lip. Slowly, he walked forward and muttered, "Neutralize."

He coated his katana in a faintly pulsing purple energy. As Jax shot his lightning orb, Fyar slashed it in mid-air.

SST!

The purple energy touched the lightning magic, and the orb vanished, with no explosion, just a soft hiss.

Jax's eyes widened in shock. "W-what..."

Before he could cast a second spell, Fyar was already in front of him.

SST!

Jax's head flew from his shoulders.

Jax's three remaining companions shouted in shock and quickly charged at him. Fyar kept walking.

SST!

SST!

SST!

He passed right through the three men. All three fell to the ground in separate pieces. Fyar's white mask was now almost completely covered in splatters of dark red blood.

Two other gang members tried to attack him from a nearby tavern; one was a large Orc. The Orc swung its massive wooden club at Fyar.

Fyar ducked under the Orc's swing.

SST!

He slashed both of its legs, then thrust his sword into its heart as it fell.

He kept moving. Every bounty hunter or gang member foolish enough to block his path ended up with the same fate. The street behind him was now filled with corpses.

the remaining citizens who were there ran in fear, witnessing their fight, leaving Fyar standing there alone, staring up at the sky filled with stars.

No Hunter above Level 16 has shown up yet. I might be lucky. I have to get out of this city soon, Fyar thought.

Fyar continued his run and finally reached a quiet intersection. He was injured, covered in blood from head to toe, and completely exhausted. He knew he couldn't keep this up.

He looked down, toward the sewer grate at the edge of the street. Carved into the sewer wall was a small, almost invisible symbol of a rat. The contact Zaefal had suggested.

With no other choice, he took the pouch of gold coins from inside his coat and dropped it into the dark sewer opening below the symbol. A soft splash was heard as the pouch hit the water below.

"I need a hiding place," he whispered into the darkness. "And I need to send a message."

Friday night. A luxury suite at the Outgal Inn.

The room was silent. Moonlight streamed through a large, arched window, illuminating the cold marble floor. Illya was in her spacious bedroom, standing in front of a silver-framed mirror. Laid out on her large bed was a new, elegant, jade-green gown, complete with white silk gloves.

She was preparing herself for an important meeting tomorrow morning. It was a private "tea party" she would be hosting for the first time with her new allies: Lord Emeric, Mister Valerius, and Lady Amara. In her hand, she held a sheet of paper containing notes on the price war strategy that Zaefal had prepared.

She took a slow breath, trying to calm herself. Focus, Illya. This is the first step.

SLAM!

The sound of the suite's main door being slammed open was extremely loud, shattering the silence.

Illya flinched in shock.

In the suite's living room, Rasie, who had been sharpening his sword on the sofa, instantly leaped to his feet.

"THE FUCKKK?!" Rasie yelled, his hand grabbing for his sword.

Zaefal burst into the suite, panting heavily. His usually calm face was now pale and tense. He was not wearing his formal guard uniform, just a plain shirt, slightly damp with sweat.

"Zaefal?!" Illya ran out of her bedroom, stopping in the doorway to the living room. "What is it? You were supposed to be..."

"Forget the meeting," Zaefal cut in, his voice fast and urgent. "Everything has gone wrong!!."

Rasie lowered his sword slightly, but remained on guard. "What do you mean?"

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