Inside a spacious cave, the stone floor and crates were dimly lit by stationary wood torches. The cave was glittering from all sides, as the minerals got shunned by the torches. Men sat and stood tensely across the room, each observing the others individually. Within the silent cave, only the crackling of the torches could be heard, yet the room was filled with thoughts. However, all thoughts led to someone at the farthest end. A man wearing a wooden mask sat there. His ragged, long hair looked as if it hadn't been cared for in a long time, cascading down to his knees. His right palm rested on his wooden mask, with his index finger and thumb pressing against the mask’s nose bridge.

  All eyes shifted from one another to the cave’s entrance tunnel, where footsteps could be heard.

  Four men walking, the man sitting at the tallest crate thought to himself, that must be the lanky guy's footsteps. Even the echoes of his footsteps sound lanky. This unpleasant, rhythmic walking… it must be that smelly unkempt guy. This heavy walking, it must be the heavy guy. It sounds like he's carrying something from the sound of his steps. Before the man on top of the tallest crate could guess who the fourth one was, a figure emerged from the tunnel—glasses, man-bun. Ah, that guy. What a fucking weirdo. Last time the rhythm of his walk was that of a barbarian, and now it sounds like the walk of someone who's prim and proper… shit, what a creep.

  The men scattered across the spacious cave stared at the four as they walked toward the center. As they approached the masked man, the one with glasses asked, “We did what you asked. What now?”

  The masked man rested his right arm on his leg, his green eyes visible through the narrow eye holes of the mask. “I can't seem to recall asking for anyone else besides the weakest-looking one. Tell me, I’m certain I said take only the blond-haired one.”

  “Oi, when we asked what exactly you wanted us to do, you just told us to take her and do whatever we wanted," the unkempt guy protested.

  The masked man remained silent and stared at the unkempt guy. “What?” Taking a step back, the unkempt guy muttered.

  "Very well. Lock those two in a cage. You can do whatever you want with them once I'm done with my business. However, if my plan steers off road even slightly because of what you brought… forget your payment." The masked man fell silent for a moment before continuing. "You shall pay dearly.”

  .

  .

  "Hah! That arrogant fuck! Who the hell does he think he is? If it weren't for those powders he promised, I would've slit his throat!" the unkempt guy exclaimed.

  “Powder? You mean those shits that boost your geist?” The heavy man inquired.

  “Yeah those good shits.”

  “HAH! You’re a fucking addict? People stopped using those because they’d fuck your geist up and get you high.” The lanky guy intervened.

  “That's because you losers don't know how to circulate your geist manually. You can easily take the powder without the side effects.”

  “So much of that credibility when you look like that.”

  “Manually!? Yo! We’ve got a revolutionary here!” The lanky guy shouted, calling at the crowd.

  “Huh?” “What was that?” “Something's going on?” The crowd murmured as they headed towards the four men’s direction, curious of what was happening.

  “This guy said if you manually circulate your geist the powder drugs will boost your geist without the side effects!” The lanky guy announced.

  “Holy shit, we got a Veinstein here? Enlighten us more with your revolutionary ideas!” Some guy from the crowd hailed.

  The crowd bursted into laughter, mocking the unkempt guy.

  “Hey, big guy.” The man with glasses called.

  “What?”

  “Did that masked man also promise you the same as his?” the man with glasses asked, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the unkempt guy.

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  "No. He asked me what I wanted, and I said I needed protection. Then he told me to follow him, saying he'd give me what I wanted before demonstrating his capabilities.”

  “I see…”

  “Did he ask you the same?”

  "Yeah. He said he’d give me whatever I wanted as long as I helped him. He probably told the same thing to everyone here. From what I can see, there are approximately 20 people—all of them criminals. He’s suspicious.”

  "I mean, isn’t anyone wearing a mask suspicious? We’re all criminals here anyway—what’s the harm?" the big guy said dismissively. "Or are you perhaps working for the government, Mr. Strongest Mercenary?"

  “You know me?”

  "I'm surprised. I'm the only one who knows who you are—the one some regard as the strongest man.”

  “I'm merely worried about my money.”

  “Money as always, eh.”

  "All of you, gather. I shall assign your task now. Follow my instructions perfectly, and you shall be rewarded with the best thing you could think of." The masked man's voice echoed throughout the cave, loud and clear— a stark contrast to the soft, whispery tone he had used when speaking to the four men.

  .

  .

  The supposedly unconscious Frieda opened her eyes and rose from the cold steel floor before muttering, “Is it working fine?”

  A tangerine-colored geist stuck to her neck, hidden beneath her blonde hair, transmitted Ruhig's voice. “Yeah, I can see the surroundings and hear them clearly.”

  “So, do you have any plans, Ruhig?” Bernadette inquired.

  “Frieda, make sure to record everything they say. The government doesn’t care whether these criminals are alive or dead—all they want is proof of their crimes and a record of how we take them down. Document everything well, because I have no intention of letting them live.”

  .

  .

  “I’m gonna go eat. Make sure they don’t do anything funny,” one of the men intoned.

  “Right.” The other man sat down. “So serious. It’s been hours, and these two haven’t woken up yet. What could they possibly do?”

  .

  Near the torch, a man with excellent hearing lay asleep in a hammock, using the flame’s warmth to keep himself comfortable. He was supposed to guard the entrance to their hideout, but the cold outside was unbearable. The heat from the torch was just right, so when he found the hammock while rummaging through the crates, he took the opportunity to use it.

  “Why are you slacking off? When did you find such a thing?” the man with glasses asked.

  This fucker—now his steps are subtle? “The coldness that seeps through the entrance and the warmness of this torch, anyone would want to sleep.”

  “Get out of there—it's your turn to guard the hostages.”

  “Man, why are you so diligent.”

  “About what?”

  “This supervisor thing?”

  “My employer told me to make sure all of you do your job, I'm merely doing my part.”

  “Look man, it's night time already. Besides, how would those guys know where we are? Like the rest, just take it easy and relax.” The man with excellent hearing approached the man smiling.

  "Amid all this greenery and these mountains, there’s only one lit torch outside. And what’s more, it’s burning like it’s begging to be found. Clearly, that masked man’s plan includes being discovered by the hostage’s companions," the man with glasses and a man bun deduced.

  “Even so, it’ll still take them a while to find us. Just relax.”

  The man with glasses kicked the man with excellent hearing in his bottom before ordering him, “just go already.”

  “Right, right…”

  .

  Jeez that guy, can't tell if he's just cautious or he's taking this job way too seriously… Anyways, it's not like anything will happen… hmm?

  The man opened his eyes, sensing something amiss. However, before he could speak, Bernadette's leg swept through the air—infused with Geist, extending her reach—and took out the men in the vicinity. The man with excellent hearing barely dodged, ducking just in time to avoid her attack.

  “You have a good reflex.” "Bernadette commended the man whose smile was tinged with worry.”

  “You’re good too, how did you know I noticed that the sleeping body next to you is a fake?” the man inquired as a bud of sweat formed in his temple.

  “Pure guts.”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  “You ok?” Bernadette asked as she took her stance.

  “Judging from earlier, you seem like the wild champion type. I'm not good against champions who have good instincts you know…” The man reluctantly pulled out his daggers and took his stance.

  “So you’ve fought some before. Since you're a criminal you probably won, huh? Interesting.”

  “I don't know if you're optimistic or just want to fight… as for me, I really don't want to fight you ”

  “Well, too bad.” Bernadette launched her fist toward the guarded man, tearing through the wind with force. A gust of wind followed, as if the atmosphere itself recoiled from her strength.