CRACK!
The heavy iron-rimmed wheel of the merchant carriage slammed violently against a jagged mountain rock, sending a brutal shockwave up through the wooden frame. The sudden impact threw me forward, my forehead cracking hard against the edge of a nearby supply crate before I bounced back onto the canvas grain sacks.
A sharp spike of pain shot through my skull, jolting my single green eye open behind the dark slit of the Leech's Hollow Mask. I hissed silently, my elongated fangs cutting slightly into my lower lip as my pale right hand instinctively flew to my forehead to check the calcified bone of my mask. It was intact. Below my ribs, a faint, protective pulse of mana rippled through my core… a quiet reassurance from the heretical life expanding inside my womb that the sudden impact hadn't compromised the volatile, accelerated pregnancy.
I looked toward the back of the wagon. The canvas flaps were leaking a deep, heavy violet gloom. The half-day ride through the western passes was officially over; twilight had already burned away, leaving the world enveloped in the pitch-black security of midnight.
"Wake up, Bounty Hunter! We've arrived at Balka!" the merchant's gruff voice called out from the driver's box, accompanied by the loud, scraping groan of the leather brakes pulling the horses to a halt.
I adjusted the thick cloth wrap over my gouged right socket, threw the heavy hood of my tattered crimson trench coat low over my face, and slid the strap of my leather purse… containing the Registry of the Condemned and Snow's coded letters… securely across my shoulder. Grabbing the edge of the wooden frame with my singular right hand, I hoisted myself up and vaulted out of the back of the wagon, my heavy leather boots landing with a solid, silent thud on the damp, mist-shrouded earth.
I turned back to the merchant, offering him a sharp, silent nod of my hood to thank him for the passage. The man offered a nervous, hurried wave before quickly driving his horses toward the commercial docks, clearly eager to get away from the lethal aura radiating from my silhouette.
I turned my head, my solitary green eye locking onto the massive, sprawling threshold ahead.
Town Balka.
Even in the dead of night, the neutral border settlement was suffocatingly alive. Built directly along the roaring, misty currents of the great continental divide river, the air here was thick, heavy, and rank… smelling of salt, rotting river weeds, cheap tobacco, and the unmistakable, bitter tang of unwashed demi-human sweat. Towering, mismatched timber-and-iron structures leaned over the narrow dirt roads like crooked teeth.
As I marched toward the heavy, iron-reinforced perimeter gates, the sheer diversity of the lawless zone became immediately apparent. A pair of towering, mammalian beast-kin mercenaries clad in rusted chainmail leaned against the wooden palisades, their wolfen ears twitching as they watched me approach. Down by the visible riverbank, the bioluminescent webbed skin of a dagon dockworker shimmered faintly in the dark as he hauled heavy shipping crates from a moored barge.
This was the lawless crossroads where the rules of the Holy Bureau carried no weight. I pressed my right hand against the handle of my hidden Death Chant firearm beneath my trench coat, ensuring the 12 kg of weaponized tear gas in my spatial ring was ready for deployment. The Crimson Phantom had officially crossed the threshold into enemy territory, and Laulif Flower's human trafficking syndicate was finally within arm's reach.
The damp, misty river air clung to my tattered crimson trench coat as I approached the looming iron-reinforced gates of Town Balka. Standing guard at the threshold was a beastkin… a common sight given that we were officially balancing on the precarious edge of the demi-human continent.
But as I stepped closer into the flickering, amber light of the perimeter torches, my single green eye widened behind the calcified lines of my Leech's Hollow Mask.
The guard wasn't some low-tier, mercenary thug or a standard tribal watchman. He was clad in the distinct, polished, and meticulously maintained armor of a Luminous Knight.
A cold spike of tactical alarm rippled through me. This border region was a lawless, neutral melting pot; it absolutely should not have had an official order of knights patrolling the perimeter. If the Luminous Knights were stationed directly at the gates, it meant the Holy Bureau's reach had extended much further into the continental divide than the capital registries had indicated. The town wasn't just a lawless haven; it was actively being monitored by the state.
"Toll, please," the guard requested, his voice steady, disciplined, and carrying an underlying air of calm authority.
I stopped dead in my tracks. As he tilted his head up, his striking features caught the full illumination of the torchlight. Beneath his iron helm, a familiar mane of golden hair framed his face, and a pair of distinct, alert feline ears twitched sharply, capturing the ambient rustle of the surrounding river mist.
It was Mochi.
My loyal subordinate, my reliable knight, and one of the closest allies I had forged a bond with during my rise to power. He was a fierce, protective comrade-in-arms who had stood by me through the darkest tactical operations, always bowing with that unwavering, professional warmth to declare.
Because I was completely cloaked in the terrifying, nameless silhouette of the Crimson Phantom… carrying an 18-gold bounty, wearing a bone mask that completely obscured my features, and missing my left arm… Mochi didn't realize that I was standing right in front of him. To his sharp, feline senses, I was just an imposing, dangerous high-tier bounty hunter arriving from the Caria passes in the dead of night.
I stood frozen in the shadows, the absolute irony of the situation settling heavily over my chest. I couldn't dare speak to him, nor could I reveal the name Roxy without compromising my entire stealth operation. Keeping my pale right hand steady, I reached into my leather purse, bypassing the hidden Death Chant firearm and the Registry of the Condemned to pull out the required toll coins, preparing to test just how sharp my trusted knight's instincts truly were.
I dropped the toll coins into Mochi's open palm, the silver clinking sharply against his metal gauntlet. But as I pulled my pale right hand back, Mochi's golden feline ears snapped instantly upright. His nose twitched, catching the subtle, underlying scent of wild provincial grapes, old ash, and the distinct, icy metallic tang of my half-vampiric mana… a scent no tattered coat or calcified mask could completely hide from a beastkin's hyper-acute senses.
Mochi froze, his golden eyes widening in sheer, breathless disbelief.
"Roxy...?" he whispered, the name slipping from his lips before he could even process the tactical weight of it.
A shockwave of panic hit my chest behind the Leech's Hollow Mask. Before I could even figure out how to react or signal him to stay quiet, the second gatekeeper… a sharp-eared, cynical elf clad in standard Bureau scout leather… stepped forward and slapped Mochi squarely across the side of his helmet with a loud CLANG.
"Hey, you dumb cat! Do you have any idea who this woman actually is? Are you trying to get us both slaughtered?!" the elf hissed, his voice laced with absolute irritation.
The elf quickly turned back to me, bowing his head in a tense, sweating display of administrative submission. Mochi, rubbing his helmet with a sheepish grin, quickly recalibrated his posture, realizing he had almost compromised a high-tier state operative. He glanced at my empty left sleeve and my bone mask, putting on a perfectly professional front.
"Ah... you're the legendary Bounty Hunter from Caria, my profound apologies, ma'am. A lapse in concentration. I assume you are here tracking a high-value target." Mochi corrected himself smoothly, his tone shifting into that familiar, disciplined warmth I knew so well.
Seeing the sharp, knowing glint in Mochi's golden eyes, the pieces instantly clicked. Mochi hadn't just been assigned to a random border post; as a Luminous Knight, he was actively monitoring the human trafficking pipeline flowing through this lawless river port. He already knew about the local S-rank bounty on Laulif Flower.
Wasting no time, I pulled my notepad from my purse with my right hand, quickly scribbled two words in heavy, dark charcoal, and thrust it directly in front of their faces:
"BLOOM SYNDICATE."
The moment the elf read those words, the color drained completely from his face, his pointed ears pinning back flat against his head. He looked left and right into the thick river mist, ensuring no dagon dockworkers or beastkin smugglers were within earshot, before leaning in close.
The elf said to me in a hushed, trembling whisper,
"Keep your voice down, Hunter. If you're here to tear out the roots of the Bloom Syndicate, you're walking straight into a hornets' nest. Half the local authorities down at the docks are on their payroll, and the sirens in the lower sectors act as their lookouts. If you want to get to their holding cells without starting a literal war on the riverbanks, you're going to need a guide who actually knows which warehouses are rigged to blow."
He darted a look at Mochi.
"And unfortunately for you, this cat knows the layout better than anyone."