The heavy mahogany doors had barely begun to close behind Elias and his companions when my brother suddenly paused, his hand tightening on the brass doorknob. The ambient shadows that always seemed to cling to his trench coat pulsed with a sudden, restless energy.
He turned back around, his sharp, analytical gaze sweeping over the room one more time before he walked right back toward the couch. My throat went entirely dry beneath my cloth wraps. For the second time in less than ten minutes, my brother approached me, navigating the narrow space of Chief Anton's office with a fluid, lethal grace. He sat down right beside me on the leather cushions, while the high-ranking mage, Catherine, and the paladin, Patricia, flanked his sides.
I sat utterly paralyzed, forcing my breathing into a rhythmic, undetectable pattern. I couldn't risk a single stray movement. I couldn't let the hem of my heavy canvas cloak slide apart to reveal Luke Granhart's polo or the three high-caliber firearms strapped to my spine.
But to my profound, icy relief, Elias didn't gaze directly into my face. His attention remained fiercely fixed on the Bureau Chief.
"Hey, Chief, before we head out, can you tell me exactly where Lulu City is? With all the overlapping distortion in the outer sectors lately, I completely forgot the safest navigation route."
Chief Anton didn't miss a beat. He smoothly reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a tightly rolled regional chart, and threw the map across the mahogany table straight at Elias.
"It is located at the eastern waters, Shadow Walker, the Bureau has already dispatched a formal decree for your party to investigate the Dodorant Citadel. As you might have read in the Caria Times this morning, the authorities over there just caught the escaped prisoner, Inmate 345. They need an investigator of your caliber to verify the security breach."
As Elias caught the map with a practiced flick of his wrist, the paladin sitting right next to him shifted her heavy armor. Patricia's sharp, disciplined eyes locked directly onto my heavily bundled, silent figure. A look of recognition suddenly flashed across her face.
"Wait… Isn't that the silent bounty hunter from last week? The one who wouldn't say a single word during the cartel debrief? What is she doing back here so soon?"
I slowly tilted my hooded head toward them, ensuring the jagged edges of my Glasgow smile and my hollow, charred right eye-socket remained buried in absolute, impenetrable darkness. I locked my single, piercing jade-green eye dead onto the two girls.
Catherine, the mage, looked between me and Patricia, shaking her head with a sigh.
"I don't know... Honestly, I didn't even know her name back then either. She just collects her gold and vanishes."
Seeing the party's intense curiosity beginning to creep dangerously close to my true identity, Chief Anton immediately stepped in to shield me. He slammed his hand flat against the desk, his voice echoing through the office in a loud, commanding tone that brooked absolute authority.
"Hey! The three of you, have some respect for that bounty hunter! You're wondering what she's doing here? Earlier this morning… less than an hour ago, in fact… she single-handedly dismantled the entire arms trafficking guild. And she didn't just smash their vault..."
To prove his point and permanently silence any skepticism in the room, Anton reached across his desk, grabbed the cloth-wrapped bundle, and aggressively pulled back the dark fabric. He lifted the charred, severed head of Don Anthony up into the ambient light of the office, giving the entire party a clear, unmistakable view of the dead mafia kingpin.
"She took the supreme leader's head all by herself," Anton declared, letting the grim trophy do the talking.
Beside me, Patricia and Catherine completely froze, their eyes widening in absolute, breathless shock as they stared at the rugged, explosion-scorched features of one of the most powerful crime lords in Andromeda. Elias's single eye narrowed to a razor-sharp slit, his gaze shifting from the severed head directly to my silent, cloaked form, his mind instantly recalculating the sheer, terrifying threat level of the mercenary sitting right next to him.
Elias stared intently at the blackened, grisly visage of Don Anthony, his analytical mind visibly connecting the pieces of a rapidly shifting underworld puzzle. A low, appreciative hum vibrated in his chest, and the shadows swirling around the hem of his long coat seemed to settle into a rapt, predatory stillness. He slowly turned his head back toward me, his single, piercing eye locking onto the dark void beneath my hood with a profound level of professional respect.
"What a fascinating bounty hunter, last week, I personally saw the aftermath of your work when you brought in Oksana's head and shattered the Emerald Spire cartel. Now, a mere seven days later, you walk through these doors carrying the severed head of Don Anthony himself. You are systematically decapitating the apex predators of Andromeda's underworld faster than the Capital Knights can even draft their mobilization orders."
He leaned in closer, the subtle scent of high-grade leather, old parchment, and the sharp, metallic tang of his custom revolver wafting over me. By a stroke of absolute, agonizing theater, my own brother was treating me like a legendary peer, entirely blind to the fact that the silent assassin he was praising was the exact same girl who used to burn the family stews back in Town Allure.
"Tell me, bounty hunter, would you consider joining my party for our next contract? I have a deep appreciation for individuals of your caliber and efficiency. Right now, my vanguard is actively hunting a catastrophic anomaly known as the Crimson Phantom… a ruthless, blood-sucking winged demon who currently carries a staggering sixteen-gold bounty on her head. If you bring your unparalleled lethality to our ranks, I promise we will give you an equal share of the glory and split the prize money seamlessly, guaranteeing you a clean four gold pieces upon the beast's execution."
The sheer, breathtaking dramatic irony of his pitch nearly made me let out a dark, ragged gasp. The absolute absurdity of the universe was on full display in this very office. My own flesh and blood, the brilliant Shadow Walker, was sitting mere inches away from me, offering to pay me four pristine pieces of kingdom gold to help him track down, violently dismantle, and execute myself. He was looking at the Crimson Phantom, sitting right next to her, breathing the same air, yet inviting her to a hunting party dedicated to her own slaughter.
If I accepted, we would march up into the jagged peaks of Caria, and the moment he finally cornered his demonic quarry, he would find nothing but an empty echo… or a horrific, bloody realization that would shatter his sanity into a million pieces.
I couldn't risk letting this conversation drag on for another second. Every moment Elias spent analyzing my posture increased the astronomical odds of my cover blowing up in my face. The dense, baked desert tan of my skin, the slight contour of my hidden wings pinned painfully against my spine, or the distinct, heavy weight of the Death Chant Shotgun resting against my lower back could spark his hyper-trained investigative instincts at any moment.
Remaining entirely stoic and refusing to utter a single sound that might betray the feminine pitch of his little sister's voice, I reached into my purse with my remaining right hand. I grabbed the stubby, heavily sharpened pencil and firmly pressed it against the worn page of my notepad. The graphite scratched loudly against the paper in the suffocating silence of the room as I scrawled three blunt, uncompromising words:
"I'm working alone."
I tore the scrap of paper from the ledger with a sharp, definitive rip and slid it across the mahogany desk, letting it rest right beside the charred face of the dead mafia don.
Elias leaned over, read the frantic handwriting, and let out a soft, dismissive chuckle as he straightened back up to his full, towering height. He adjusted the collar of his trench coat, his expression shifting from calculating curiosity back to his standard, professional detachment.
"A lone wolf girl, hm? Well, I can respect that. The strongest predators usually prefer to hunt in isolation. Forgive me for wasting your time, and have a good day, bounty hunter. Just ensure our paths don't cross in the mountains if that demon decides to get between you and your next contract."
With a fluid, synchronized movement, the three elite operatives turned on their heels. The heavy thud of their armored boots and the rhythmic clinking of the paladin's holy plate armor gradually receded down the high-arched corridors of the LKBA headquarters until the heavy mahogany doors finally clicked shut, locking the outside world out once more.
The moment the latch engaged, the suffocating tension evaporated from the room. I let out a massive, ragged sigh of relief, my shoulders sagging heavily as the sheer adrenaline rush of surviving my brother's interrogation began to cool in my veins. I reached up, loosening the tight, suffocating grip I had kept on my canvas cloak, ensuring my hidden wing-joints could finally breathe against my spine.
Chief Anton let out a long, heavy breath of his own, sliding his spectacles down his nose and wiping his brow with a silk handkerchief. He looked across the desk at my heavily scarred, hooded form, his expression filled with a profound, unspoken understanding of the madness we had just navigated.
"Don't worry, Eirene,"
Anton said, his steady voice dropping into a comforting, low register as he slid the classified Vanessa Katt files and the pouch of five bounty gold pieces securely toward my hand.
"Your secret is absolutely safe with me. The Shadow Walker will continue his hunt in the peaks, completely blind to the ghost he's chasing, and your family back in Town Allure will hear nothing but tales of their quiet, ordinary sister. Now, take your gold and your intelligence… you have a long day of deadlines ahead of you."
Chief Anton's office, usually a sanctuary of high-level bureaucracy and quiet tactical exchanges, felt exceptionally still in the wake of the Shadow Walker's departure. The heavy mahogany doors stood firmly shut, locking out the rowdy, alcohol-fueled boasting of the lower-rank adventurers in the main guildhall. The air still carried the faint, bitter tang of soot and localized heat from the charred, severed head of Don Anthony resting on the desk, a grisly testament to the contract I had just fulfilled.
Anton reached out with a sigh, sliding the heavy leather pouch containing my five hard-earned gold pieces alongside the highly classified intelligence folder on Vanessa Katt across the polished wood. His weathered face was lined with deep exhaustion, yet his gaze remained uncommonly steady, reflecting the ironclad integrity that had kept him at the apex of the Luminous Knight Bureau Association for decades.
"If anything happens to you, Eirene… if the remnants of the arms guild or the cartel somehow pierce your anonymity… the Bureau will promise to keep you safe, you have single-handedly purged this city of two S-rank plagues in a fortnight. We protect our assets. Especially the ones who fight from the dark."
Beneath the shadow of my heavy canvas cloak, a rare, genuine smile tugged at the corners of my lips, pulling slightly at the jagged, sensitive scar tissue of my Glasgow smile. Anton wasn't just a powerful administrative tool; he was a truly good man, a rare bastion of loyalty in a world where information and blood were traded like common currency. I offered him a slow, respectful nod of my hooded head, absorbing the comfort of his words.
BOOM!
The heavy mahogany doors didn't merely swing open… they violently shattered inward against their brass hinges with a deafening, explosive crash. The brute force of the impact caused the floorboards beneath my boots to shudder violently.
Startled entirely out of my stoic composure, a violent jolt of adrenaline shot through my spine. Because my tongue had been brutally excised long ago, the sudden, reflexive gasp of terror in my throat couldn't form actual words. Instead, a horrific, wet, gurgling scream tore from my throat as a sudden burst of pressurized air puffed uselessly past my scarred lips, spraying a faint mist of saliva against the interior cloth of my mask. My right hand instinctively flew to the hilt of the custom Death Chant Shotgun strapped to my spine, my single jade-green eye widening in absolute panic.
Stalking through the ruined doorway like a physical manifestation of a thunderstorm was Elias Rynd.
The ambient shadows of the corridor didn't just follow him; they writhed and boiled around his shoulders like a living, predatory cloak, lashing out against the doorframes as his staggering, high-tier magical pressure flooded the room. His face was twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury… a terrifying contrast to the cold, analytical detachment he usually maintained as the legendary Shadow Walker.
He didn't even glance at me. He completely ignored my gurgling scream and my defensive posture, his singular, piercing eye locked entirely onto Chief Anton with lethal intent. In his tightly clenched, gloved right hand, he was clutching a crumpled copy of the Caria Times …Wednesday Edition, the newsprint tearing beneath the immense pressure of his grip.
Elias marched straight to the massive desk, his heavy leather boots leaving faint, shadow-burned prints upon the antique rug. With a violent, snapping motion, he slammed the crumpled newspaper flat against the wood, right next to the charred head of Don Anthony.
"Anton! Explain this. Immediately!"
My eye darted down to the open pages of the crumpled print. My heart stopped. It was the exact investigative column I had secretly read back at the safehouse… the heavily leaked expose featuring the bold, damning headline:
CARIA TIMES- WEDNESDAY EDITION
SHADOWS UNVEILED: BUREAU'S LEGENDARY 'SHADOW WALKER' HARBORS SECRET FAMILY IN THE COUNTRYSIDE.
The article lay exposed under the bright magical lanterns of the office, detailing the precise existence of my brother's deeply loving wife and his precious young daughter, completely stripping away the anonymity he had spent a lifetime building to protect them from the vengeful blades of the criminal underworld.
Elias leaned over the desk, his hands pressing into the wood as his shadow-imbued aura began to manifest physical frost along the edges of Anton's paperwork. The sheer, protective fury of a father and a husband radiated off him in suffocating waves.
"I have given years of my life to the Bureau's darkest operations, I have liquidated syndicates, hunted monsters, and buried secrets deeper than the foundations of the Citadel itself. And in return, your administrative channels leak the exact coordinates of my wife and daughter to the public? If a single low-life cartel runner or vengeful mercenary sets foot within the boundaries of that countryside estate, I won't just burn the journalist who wrote this, Anton. I will dismantle the entire Knight Association block by block."
I sat completely frozen on the edge of the leather couch, my right arm still trembling slightly against my chest as I watched my brother unravel. The dramatic irony of the situation pressed heavily against my chest; Elias was standing two feet away from the very "winged demon" he intended to hunt, completely blind to my presence, because his soul was entirely consumed by the sudden, terrifying vulnerability of his hidden family being thrust into the merciless light of Caria District politics.
Chief Anton didn't flinch, even as the localized frost from Elias's shadow aura began to nip at the edges of his desk blotter. He raised his hands slowly, palms outward, maintaining the steady, unshakeable composure of a veteran commander facing down a rogue tempest.
"Elias, breathe for a second, I have absolutely nothing to do with this. I wasn't involved in this leak, and the Bureau's internal networks remain secure. Don't blame me, blame the tabloid journalist who sniffed out the trail. You know damn well I would never compromise your sanctuary."
Behind my brother, the two elite operatives stepped through the shattered doorway, their expressions tight with a mixture of defensive anger and deep concern. Catherine, the high-ranking mage, gestured sharply at the crumpled front page of the Caria Times.
"Look at the absolute mess they've made, Elias spent years burying his tracks. Now, because of some sleazy reporter looking for a headline, his entire family is in immediate danger." Catherine said, her voice laced with bitter resentment toward the media.
Patricia, the paladin, stepped forward, her heavy plate armor clanking softly as her holy aura flared just enough to push back the encroaching shadows in the room. She locked a stern, uncompromising gaze onto the Bureau Chief.
"Anton. We need an immediate media blackout and a tactical extraction team deployed to the countryside. Now."
I stood up slowly from the leather couch, keeping my left sleeve pinned flat to hide my missing arm, my heart still thudding from the sheer chaos of the intrusion. The office had transformed into a powder keg of family crisis and high-tier military panic.
Elias let out a sharp, ragged breath, masterfully reining in his volatile shadow aura until it settled back into the folds of his trench coat. He turned his single, piercing eye toward my cloaked figure, his expression tightening with a flash of professional embarrassment.
"Forgive the second commotion, bounty hunter, this is a private, high-alert security matter. Would you care to leave us for a while?" Elias said, his voice strained but polite as he gestured toward the ruined threshold.
I offered a single, stiff nod of my hooded head. Without making a sound, I snatched the thick folder containing Vanessa Katt's classified coordinates and the pouch of five gold pieces from the desk, slipping them securely beneath my canvas cloak. I stepped over the splintered remains of the mahogany door, exiting the executive office into the long, arched corridor of the LKBA.
As I walked away, the muffled, heated voices of Elias, Patricia, and Chief Anton continued to echo from the room, discussing emergency defense protocols and counter-intelligence strikes against the publishers. Though a deeply personal part of me desperately wanted to eavesdrop and learn the exact location of my sister-in-law and niece, I simply didn't have the luxury of time. The heavy deadlines of the seventh day were ticking down relentlessly.
I bypassed the rowdy, oblivious crowds of the main guildhall and marched straight out of the grand entrance of the LKBA, stepping into the bright morning sun of the 4th District. My mind immediately shifted back to my tactical ledger.
With Don Anthony's bounty claimed and Vanessa's files secured, my next stop was the chaotic commercial markets of the 6th District. It was time to hunt down the high-end apothecaries and alchemical vendors to buy the raw chemical ingredients and medical supplies needed to brew Maine's volatile tear gas.