The trees creaked in the wind, their branches rustling like whispers.

  Hans limped through the thinning forest, one hand gripping his crutch, the other shielding his eyes from the shafts of fading sunlight.

  “Lin…?” he called hoarsely.

  No answer — only the echo of distant wind and the faint scent of ash on the breeze.

  He cursed under his breath and kept moving. He'd seen the flash from the town — heard the boom that split the air like a god’s hammer. Whatever happened, it was big, and Lin had run straight into it.

  He pushed forward, each step slower than the last, until—

  His heart stopped.

  There she was.

  She was dragging something. No—two someones.

  Bruised. Dirt-streaked. Hair disheveled and clinging to her sweat-soaked face. Her knees wobbled beneath her, arms trembling, but she kept pulling.

  One body slumped behind each hand.

  Knife.

  Matsu.

  “Lin!” Hans gasped, half limping, half stumbling toward her. “What are you doing?! Are you out of your damn mind?!”

  She dropped to her knees, gasping for air. “We need to help them.”

  Hans looked down at the battered faces of the two unconscious boys. One wanted criminal. The other is a bounty hunter. Both looked like they’d just crawled out of hell.

  “These two?” Hans spat. “Lin, they’re criminals—both of them! Look at that one!” He jabbed a finger toward Knife.

  Lin didn’t flinch.

  “Please!” she said. Her voice was low, steady—despite the tears welling in her eyes.

  Hans opened his mouth—but said nothing.

  He looked at Lin closely.

  She was standing her ground.

  He sighed deeply. “You’re just like your mother, dammit,” he muttered, rubbing his temple.

  Then, with a resigned groan, he slung one of Knife's arms over his shoulder. “Fine. But if either of them stabs me in my sleep, I’m haunting you.”

  Lin smiled weakly and went back to dragging Matsu.

  The forest was quiet again as the four of them disappeared into the dusk.

  ***

  Captain Iron stood in the command center, arms crossed, listening intently to the report. The room was dim, lit only by a handful of flickering lanterns swaying gently from the ceiling.

  The soldier before him stood rigid at attention, visibly nervous. His voice trembled as he spoke.

  “Captain… Corporal Asio Stryx and his unit were defeated by Knife the Sharp. He has since vanished completely from our radar. The Gravedigger was also not located.”

  Iron’s expression remained unreadable. His cold eyes narrowed just slightly, but there was no anger, no surprise. He simply nodded.

  “It seems he was more troublesome than I anticipated,” Iron said calmly. “Our primary objective is the defense of the border, but allowing a man of his threat to roam freely—”

  He paused, then spoke with quiet conviction.

  “I’ll capture him myself.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?”

  The new voice echoed through the chamber. An elderly man stepped forward—bald, with a mustache so long it nearly brushed the floor.

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  Captain: Prudehomme Shepard. Nearing retirement.

  “Master…” Iron muttered, turning toward him.

  Wally stood in silence for a moment, studying the old man.

  “Long time no see, brat.”

  “I see you finally crawled out of your room, old man,” Iron replied dryly.

  “I couldn’t resist,” Prudehomme said with a smile. “I heard there was turmoil, so I thought I’d have a look.”

  “That ‘turmoil’ is nothing more than a few lowlife bandits,” Iron dismissed.

  “Still,” Prudehomme said gently, “you have your ceremony tomorrow, and you’re the main attraction, after all. Royals will be attending, so it would be wise not to cause a scene before then.”

  Iron remained pensive, still unconvinced.

  “Captain—if you don’t mind, allow us.”

  He turned slightly, casting a glance toward two shadowy figures standing nearby. Both wore blue feathers, their presence quiet but unmistakable.

  “Are you up for the task?” Iron asked, his voice low as he gave a subtle nod in their direction.

  “Of course, sir,” the smaller one replied, stepping forward with quiet confidence.

  Beside. stood a much larger figure, unmoving, silent. The soft hiss of his breath echoed from behind his helmet.

  Very well,” Iron said after a beat. “Begin the search immediately.”

  “Yes, sir,” they answered in unison as the two figures melted into the shadows, already moving.

  With a deep breath, Iron straightened his posture and stepped out of the command center, his mind already focused on the next challenge. The Iron Wall would hold, no matter what.

  ***

  Matsu groaned as his eyes slowly peeled open. His entire body ached—shoulders, ribs, even the tips of his fingers. He could barely tell where the bruises ended, and the bandages began. His vision swam for a second as he tried to sit up.

  CRACK!

  A sudden jab whipped toward his head.

  Matsu’s instincts flared—he ducked just in time, rolling off the bed with a grunt. He hit the wooden floor hard, gritting his teeth against the pain.

  “Stand still so I can kill you,” came a familiar, annoyed voice.

  Matsu looked up, still panting. Knife stood across from him, arms wrapped in the same kind of thick bandages, cuts still healing across his jaw and neck.

  “You again?” Matsu muttered, annoyed.

  Knife grinned, almost feral despite the wrappings on half his face. “This time, no interruptions.”

  Just as the tension was about to boil over—

  CREEEAAK.

  The door swung open.

  Hans stepped in first, slightly limping, with a tray of food. Lin followed behind also with a tray, beaming as soon as she saw them.

  “Ooh! You’re up!” she said brightly.

  She placed the trays on the nearby table and hurried toward Matsu, throwing her arms around his leg. “I was so worried, dummy!”

  Then, without hesitation, she sprinted over to Knife and hugged him, too. “And you to”

  Both boys stood there—one stunned, one confused—as Lin backed away, grinning.

  Hans cleared his throat nervously. “You two weren’t fighting again, were you?”

  “It’s this guy! He started it!” Matsu snapped, pointing straight at Knife. “He wants to kill me!”

  “Exactly, so stand still,” Knife said flatly, brushing Lin’s hand off his side. “If I kill him, I will have enough money to get to Level 3. ”

  Matsu rolled his eyes. “So, I just need to beat you up for you to stop chasing me.”

  The air tensed again as both boys stepped forward, fists clenching.

  Suddenly, Lin's face crumpled.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. Her shoulders shook.

  “ BIG BROTHERS ARE FIGHTING AGAIN!” she bawled, her voice cracking.

  Both men froze.

  A long silence followed. Knife’s fist dropped slightly. Matsu’s jaw unclenched.

  Then Hans stepped in behind her, took one look at her tear-streaked face—and exploded.

  “HOW DARE YOU MAKE MY DAUGHTER CRY!” he roared, his voice thunderous.

  The room seemed to shake.

  “SHAME ON YOU BOTH!”

  He stomped forward, grabbed Lin gently but firmly by the shoulders, and turned her away.

  “You two fools can break each other’s bones whenever you want to,” he spat, eyes burning. “But if either of you even thinks of raising a fist under my roof, especially while she’s in the room—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  He slammed the door behind him, leaving Knife and Matsu alone in a thick, guilty silence.

  The air felt heavier than before.

  Neither one spoke.

  “Fine,” Knife muttered, slumping back into the bed. “I’ll wait to kill until you recover. The taste of victory will be better.”

  Matsu scoffed, dropping back onto his pillow. “You’re a psycho, you know that.”

  The rest of the day passed in a tense but peaceful truce. Lin served food cheerfully, doing her best to pretend the two idiots weren’t constantly glaring at each other. Knife kept his word—barely—gripping his spoon like a weapon at every mealtime, but resisting the urge to lunge.

  Hans grumbled but tolerated them, mostly because they were both doing chores to pay back the massive debt of food and bandages they'd racked up.