The sun's rays had softened.
Not gentle.
Just… less cruel.
Far from the echo of a daughter's scream, buried somewhere behind walls and distance, the green-haired man walked through the underbelly of the city.
The shadows here were thicker.
He stepped over broken pavement.
Looked around.
This wasn't just poverty.
This was neglect.
Illegal immigration stacked into crumbling blocks.
Corruption layered over decades.
Policies written for headlines, not people.
Underaged girls sat on staircases.
Makeup smudged. Clothes too bright for the grey around them.
Some stared blankly.
Some avoided eye contact.
From the cracked windows of old apartments, silhouettes shifted.
Curtains moved slightly.
Watching.
Always watching.
The man inhaled slowly.
"This place…" he murmured, almost amused.
"…is perfect for criminals."
He kept walking.
Eyes scanning.
Looking for something.
Anything.
Then,voices.
Loud.
Rough.
A group of men gathered by the roadside.
A broken plastic table between them.
Cards slapped down hard. Coins scattered. Crushed cigarette packs used as markers.
One man rolled dice on a piece of cardboard.
Another argued loudly,
"I told you that was my turn, you blind bastard!"
"Your turn? You don't even know how to count."
Laughter erupted.
Someone coughed violently.
Smoke hung thick in the air.
The green-haired man approached.
Pulled out a photo.
"Excuse me," he said politely. "Have you happened to see this person?"
He held up Kal's picture.
One of the men didn't even look.
"Get lost, you fucking brat," he snapped, eyes still on the cards. "We don't have time."
Another one leaned back, half-drunk.
"Show me money first, then I'll show you my memory," he laughed.
More laughter.
A bottle clinked against the ground.
The green-haired man tilted his head slightly.
"Should I kill them?" he muttered under his breath, scratching his cheek lightly.
A pause.
Then a faint smile.
"Nah. I don't want to cause a scene."
He lowered the photo.
"I'll find him eventually."
He stepped away.
"If I cause a scene, it might make them more alert."
He moved through the streets.
Person to person.
Some ignored him.
Some denied it without even listening.
The watch on his wrist had already slipped past 4:30, its hands moving with quiet indifference,as if time itself had decided not to wait for him.
Then,a voice.
Smooth.
Measured.
"Looking for someone?"
He turned.
A woman leaned against a rusted street light.
Dress tight. Color loud. Eyes sharp.
Not drunk.
Not careless.
Calculated.
She had been watching him.
For a while.
He raised the photo again.
"Have you seen this person?"
She glanced at it briefly.
Then back at him.
"I might have."
A small smile played on her lips.
"But why should I tell you?"
Her tone wasn't playful.
It was business.
The man reached into his coat.
Pulled out a few small red sachets.
Neatly sealed.
Clean.
Not street trash.
"Because," he said calmly, holding them up, "this is not the garbage they sell around here."
Her eyes flickered.
Just slightly.
"High quality," he continued. "Uncut. Pure."
She straightened a little.
Now interested.
"How much?" she asked.
"Enough," he replied. "For information."
She stepped closer.
Took one sachet.
Turned it between her fingers.
"Looks expensive," she muttered.
"It is."
A pause.
She looked at the photo again.
Then back at him.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I've seen him."
The green-haired man's smile didn't change.
But his eyes sharpened.
"Where?"
She leaned in slightly.
Close enough to smell the faint chemical scent from the sachet.
"Go straight down this road," she said, pointing lazily ahead. "Then take a left. You'll see a few rundown apartments. I've seen him there, with a woman."
The green-haired man followed her gesture, his gaze narrowing as he studied the direction. "What do you think he does there?" he asked quietly.
The woman tore open a small sachet with practiced ease. She inhaled, her body shivering faintly before she let out a slow, unsteady breath.
"What everyone does," she muttered, her voice edged with something hollow. "Probably selling that girl,for business."
"Anything else?"
She shrugged.
"That's all you get for this."
He handed over the rest of the sachets.
She took them quickly.
Tucked them away.
"Pleasure doing business," she said.
He turned to leave.
Then paused.
"Be careful," she added casually. "People like you don't survive long here."
He didn't respond.
Just walked away.
Toward the location.
Where the hunt was narrowing.
The green-haired man smiled.
A slow, patient smile.
"Time to collect the price I've been waiting for."
He tapped his wrist device.
The line connected.
"Did you find anything?" a voice asked from the other end.
The man's gaze drifted towards those apartments.
"I did."
...
Away from those apartments,
In front of the broken church,
Kal stood bent forward, hands on his knees.
Sweat soaked through his shirt.
His breathing was uneven.
"One minute…" he muttered. "That's all I can manage."
He straightened slowly.
Wiped his face.
"I don't even know how this is supposed to help us."
He started pacing.
Back and forth.
Restless.
"I've got a bad feeling about this. We're screwed, both of us are screwed."
He ran his fingers through his hair.
"Fuck, I shouldn't have trusted her."
Inside the church,
Clare moved calmly.
She removed her outer clothes and changed into something simple.
A plain, long skirt.
Muted grey.
A soft cream blouse with full sleeves.
Loose. Modest.
The kind worn by ordinary women in quiet neighborhoods.
Unnoticeable.
She tied her hair back neatly.
Then placed a green-haired wig over it.
Adjusted it with precision.
When she stepped out,
She wasn't Clare anymore.
She looked like a young woman you'd pass on the street without a second glance.
Calm. Approachable.
Almost, middle aged.
Kal looked up.
And froze.
"What?"
He blinked.
Took a step closer.
"Stay here," she said. "I'll come back and pick you up. No matter what happens, don't leave this place."
He stared at her.
Confused.
Alert.
"Where are you going?"
His eyes scanned her again.
"And what is this look?"
"I'm going to get us a vehicle," she replied calmly. "We're heading to the eastern sector of this Dominion."
Kal let out a dry laugh.
"Are you serious?"
He stepped closer.
"If we use a vehicle, there will be checkpoints everywhere. Surveillance. Random inspections. We won't even make it out of the capital."
His voice sharpened.
"We can't escape like that."
Clare smiled.
Calm.
Unshaken.
"That's exactly why we will."
Kal frowned.
"What?"
"That's the reason you practiced your ability," she said softly.
Before he could respond,
She tossed a bundle of clothes at him.
"Change."
Then she turned and started walking.
Kal caught the clothes awkwardly.
"What about our belongings?" he called out. "Aren't we going to take what's left in our rooms?"
Clare stopped.
Just for a second.
Then slightly turned her head.
"What do you mean? We had rooms?"
Her tone was flat.
As if the idea itself didn't exist.
Kal opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
By the time he looked up again,
She was already gone.
Blended into the street.
Leaving him standing there,
Holding clothes.
"Did she destroy our rooms? What about my money?"
The clothes dropped where he stood, his legs already carrying him forward.
...
The clock ticked five.
The minute hand moved with quiet certainty beneath the fading gold of the evening sun.
Doffy stood on the rooftop of an abandoned apartment,north of the target building. Not directly opposite, but several blocks away, separated by rows of decaying structures. Close enough to watch. Far enough to remain unseen.
From above, the place looked fractured.
Broken roofs. Cracked walls. Narrow alleys choking between them.
At the center of it all,
Clare's apartment.
To the south, on another rooftop, the green-haired man stood with hands in his pockets. Relaxed. Watching.
To the east,Sylas.
Tall. Still. His black hair stirred slightly in the evening wind, eyes reflecting the dying sun like dim glass.
And beside Doffy,Rhett.
Silent.
His posture slightly bent forward, as if his body had long forgotten what standing straight felt like. A dull metal collar rested around his neck. Not tight,but present.
His eyes remained lowered, waiting for a command.
Doffy raised his hand.
Two fingers. A small motion,yet enough.
Sylas dropped to his knees instantly. Both eyes shut, his breathing slowing as if forced into submission. Then, deep inside the apartment, at the basement level, a wet sound echoed. From the wall, an eye emerged,pulsing once, alive,before leaping forward.
It moved from wall to wall with unnatural speed, precise and searching. It scanned everything,corners, cracks and shadows. Nothing escaped it.
Above, Doffy stood waiting, hands crossed.
The eye climbed.
Ground floor,empty rooms and broken furniture.
First floor,nothing.
Then it reached the next level.
The air shifted.
Something was wrong.
The eye slowed,not by command, but by instinct.
On the rooftop, Sylas's brow twitched slightly. "Strange," he murmured.
The eye continued down the hallway of Clare's floor and appeared along the wall.
Then suddenly...
Above, Sylas screamed.
A raw, violent sound tore through the evening. His right eye snapped open, blood spilling instantly,fast and uncontrolled. His body collapsed forward as his hands clawed at his face.
"AHH..."
Doffy moved in a blur, reaching him before the echo faded. Gripping Sylas by the collar, he forced his head up.
"Tell me the floor and the hallway, quick," he said calmly.
No hesitation. No concern. Only precision.
Sylas gasped, choking on his breath. "Fi… fifth…" he forced out, voice breaking. "Fifth floor… second hallway."
Behind them, the green-haired man had already arrived,silent, watching and interested.
Doffy released Sylas immediately and turned.
Rhett stepped forward without being told obedient, ready.
"Move."
And they were gone.
They leapt across rooftops, closing the distance in moments.
The hallway door trembled slightly. From the narrow gap beneath it, steam spilled out not violently, but constantly, like the room itself was breathing.
Doffy stepped closer, fingers pausing at the metal knob. "The steam is still rising, they can't be far."
" Recent," he muttered, stepping aside. "Rhett."
Rhett moved forward slowly, almost reluctantly. His fingers hovered over the knob before finally touching it. Then he leaned in and inhaled.
Once.
Twice.
His body stiffened.
"A… female," he said quietly. "Young. Around twenty… twenty-three…"
Doffy's gaze sharpened. "Where is she?"
Silence.
Rhett's breathing turned uneven. "I… I can't smell her anymore."
Doffy didn't blink.
"She's out of range," Rhett whispered. "Thirty meters… she's beyond it."
A pause.
Then Doffy kicked the door open.
It shattered inward. Steam burst out,hot, thick and blinding for a moment, before clearing.
And what remained was wrong.
The room itself stood intact,walls, structure untouched but everything inside had lost its form.
The floor moved, soft and unstable. Black liquid spread slowly across its surface like thickened lava, stretching and clinging, dripping from edges that should have been solid. Even the ceiling sagged slightly, as if reality itself had melted.
As if guided by the same silent instinct, everyone stepped away from the hallway.
Sylas entered, one eye covered with a blood-stained handkerchief. The other scanned everything.
Rhett was dragged forward by the chain around his neck.
"Find her," Sylas said, his voice low but sharp enough to cut.
Rhett stumbled. "I… I can't," he said, gripping the chain desperately. "There's nothing left. Her scent is gone."
"When did she leave?" Sylas snapped, yanking the chain harder.
Rhett choked. "I don't know."
"Then expand it."
Rhett froze. "No…"
Sylas slammed him to his knees. "Do it."
"I can't!" Rhett's voice cracked. "If I push it, I lose a year, for every hour. I only have ten left, please…"
A kick struck his side, and he collapsed.
"Please…" he whispered. "I just want to see my child grow, just a little longer…"
Silence.
Then a hand grabbed his hair.
Doffy.
He pulled Rhett's head back slowly. "Your child?" he said softly, a faint smile forming.
"Then listen carefully."
His voice dropped,cold.
"If you don't do this, your wife will be next."
Rhett went still.
"No…"
"Then do it."
Silence thickened the air.
" I will," Rhett whispered.
His head lifted slowly. His nose twitched once, then again. A deeper inhale followed, almost reverent.
" Master Doffy," he said softly, "I smell someone."
"Not her?"
Rhett wiped his face. "No."
A pause.
"He's a man. Young. Around nineteen…"
Another inhale.
" And he's coming toward us."
A slow smile spread across Doffy's face.
"Interesting."
Just a few buildings away, Kal crouched behind a crumbling apartment, peeking toward his building. His throat was dry, fingers trembling slightly.
"I can't trust her."
His jaw tightened.
"Before she comes back, I'll take the money and return to the church."
Simple. Fast.
Goosebumps crawled across his skin. Every sound,a distant step, a shifting shadow, the clang of loose metal ,made his head snap.
His breathing grew uneven.
Too loud. Too fast.
"Something's wrong."
Above him, on the rooftop, they were already there.
Watching.
Silent.
All four of them.
Their presence completely erased,PBV shut down.
Sylas stood forward, breathing rough and unstable, fingers dragging across his face. His teeth clenched violently.
Doffy glanced at him once,not concerned, only assessing.
Behind him, Rhett stood trembling, palms pressed together, looking up at Sylas before lowering his gaze again and again.
"Don't kill him," Doffy said calmly. "We need him alive."
"I'll go after the woman."
His gaze shifted to the green-haired man. "What will you do?"
The man met his eyes. "I'll take my leave. Pleasure doing the job." A faint smile formed. "Transfer the money to my account."
"Very well," Doffy replied.
At once, all four activated their PBV.
Without waiting, the green-haired man leapt to another apartment and vanished into the distance,yet the smile remained, even as he tapped his wristwatch.
Below, Kal froze mid-breath.
A heavy warmth pressed down on him.
From above.
His pupils shrank.
"What?"
The air shifted. A tremor ran through the building.
Dust fell.
Walls groaned.
"No…"
Slowly, he looked up.
...
To the east, beyond the slum, cars stood lined like a quiet taxi stand. Drivers leaned against doors, half-awake. Behind them was a well polished shop.
Among them,Clare.
Disguised.
A long black coat draped over her frame, a rounded hat shadowing her face. Softening her presence into a man.
"I need to go to the eastern sector of this Dominion," she said.
The driver barely looked at her. "Too far. Take a hyperloop."
"I'll pay."
He hesitated.
The sun had not fully set yet, its last light thinning across the city as streetlights flickered awake,one by one,spilling pale orange over both the polished capital and the rotting slums beyond.
Clare was about to speak again when she stopped.
Something shifted.
Not a sound. Not movement.
Heat.
It was faint at first, barely noticeable, like a change in the air before a storm. But it spread quickly, multiplying, pressing in from a particular direction .
Her eyes narrowed.
They were getting closer.
The pressure built rapidly now,too fast.
She took a step back, then another.
The driver said something, but his voice blurred into the background. She wasn't listening anymore. Her attention had already locked onto the slums in the distance.
"Are they coming for me?"
"No. That doesn't make sense.
I erased the trail."
She turned slightly, scanning her surroundings, measuring exits, distances, angles.
"I should leave."
Her body shifted as if to move,then stopped.
"No."
"Running blindly would only buy time." "Nothing more."
"I need to understand them."
Her jaw tightened slightly.
"If I understand their ability, I can either kill them or escape."
A brief pause.
"Did they find Kal too?"
Her gaze hardened.
"Later."
The warmth intensified.
Closer now.
Too close.
Without drawing attention, she slipped behind the shop, her presence collapsing inward as she completely shut down her PBV. Hidden. Silent.
Her teeth clenched.
"If Kal gets caught,I won't have a choice."
The heat surged again, sharper this time.
Carefully, she leaned just enough to see.
Two figures walked down the street as if the space already belonged to them.
The first was tall, his golden hair catching the last strands of dying sunlight. There was something deeply unsettling about him
not in appearance, but in presence. Even from a distance, he felt safe. As if speaking to him would quiet every fear.
Too calm.
Too precise.
Then her eyes shifted to the second figure.
Cloaked.
His body moved in small, erratic motions. His head twitched slightly from side to side, then dipped and rose again, his breathing uneven, almost feral. Each inhale was sharp, searching like something that hunted by instinct rather than thought.
Clare leaned just a fraction further.
And in that instant, he stopped.
Completely.
His head tilted slowly, unnaturally still now.
Then he gave a small, deliberate nod.
And turned directly toward her.