The lights flickered once more—then stabilized.
For a second, no one moved.
The third guard tightened his grip on the glowing bone mace, eyes flicking between the flickering bulb above and Zane's expression. The second guard shifted slightly, raising his shield a few inches higher.
Zane remained seated. Calm. Poised. As if this entire situation were unfolding on his terms.
"Problem with the power?" he asked lightly.
The lead guard didn't respond. His eyes narrowed, gaze sharp. Suspicious.
"Try anything," he warned, "and you'll be a stain on this floor."
Zane glanced down at the dried blood already crusted beneath his chair.
"Not the most original threat," he murmured.
The lead guard had had enough.
"Restrain him."
The two moved in fast—bone mace swinging in a brutal arc, shield ready to slam.
Zane didn't rise.
He vanished.
One moment he was there.
The next—gone.
The mace cracked through empty air, momentum slamming it into the wall. Concrete chipped. Sparks flew. The shield swung sideways instinctively—but hit nothing.
A low whisper echoed behind them.
"Wrong move."
The third guard turned—just in time to see a blur pass by.
His shield flickered, activating a reactive defense—too slow.
A fist struck his throat—not just forceful, but surgically precise. The air caught in his lungs. He gasped, dropped the mace, and stumbled back, choking.
The second guard raised his shield to defend, but Zane was already there—low, silent, inside the guard's reach.
One hand twisted the shield arm, forcing the guard to open up. The other slipped something thin and metallic from Zane's inventory—
Click.
A flash.
The guard collapsed, convulsing as electric current surged through his body.
Stun shard. Temporary. Efficient.
Zane stepped past him.
Now only the lead guard remained—still sitting, eyes wide.
"...You're not from around here," he muttered.
Zane didn't answer. He reached over and picked up the clipboard. Calmly tore it in half. Then into quarters.
"You made three mistakes," he said quietly.
The lead guard didn't move. Sweat beaded his brow.
"First..."
A pause.
"Thinking I was weak."
"Second..."
"Assuming I was desperate."
Zane stepped forward.
"And third..."
His voice dropped.
"Bringing me into a place where no one can hear you scream."
The lights flickered again.
And this time—they went out.
A second passed.
Then came a scream.
And after that… silence.
Zane brushed the dust from his hands as he ascended the narrow steps, each bootfall a soft echo in the concrete tomb.
"I didn't even have to draw my sword," he muttered, a faint note of amusement in his voice. "So this is the difference in level, huh."
At the top of the stairs, just before the basement door, he paused.
Still... did I make the right move?
The thought crept in, quiet but persistent.
The crowd saw me walk in with them. If I'm the only one to come out, and someone checks... I'll be on every list in this zone by tomorrow.
He stared at the door for a beat longer, then shook his head.
"No point pondering," he said aloud, low enough for only himself to hear. "What's done is done."
He pushed the door open.
Light spilled in. Warm. Natural. The scent of dusty wood and distant city air replaced the sterile chill of the underground.
Voices hit him instantly.
"He's out?"
"There isn't a scratch on him."
"Wait—that's the guy who went in with the Red Mace unit!"
"No way... I remember the last one they dragged in. Never came out."
Zane stepped through without hesitation. His posture was relaxed, his expression unreadable.
The crowd parted slightly as he walked. Some took a step back. Others leaned in, whispering.
He didn't look at any of them. Didn't need to.
To them, he was either a survivor—or something worse.
And in this world, both carried weight.
---
Kai watched from the back of the crowd, his fingers tight around the straps of his messenger pack. He wasn't important—just another errand boy for the Zone Watch. But he had eyes. And more importantly, instincts.
He'd seen that man go into the building with the Red Mace unit.
He was the only one who came out.
No blood on him. No limping. No fear.
Just… calm.
Controlled.
Predator-level still.
Kai backed away slowly, disappearing into the alley before the whispers grew too loud. He tapped the discreet badge on his collar—activating the relay.
It chimed once.
"Boss," he whispered, "there's this guy. I think he's new. Followed the Red Mace squad down into the East Zone checkpoint basement."
A pause.
"And?" came the gruff reply—worn, annoyed, distracted.
"He's the only one who came back out."
Another pause. Longer.
"Maybe he cooperated easy."
Kai shook his head, though the boss couldn't see it. "They've been down there a while. He walked out clean. And the Mace team… none of them have surfaced."
Silence.
Then the boss's voice turned sharp. "Check the basement."
Kai swallowed. "You sure—?"
"Now."
He groaned inwardly but obeyed. Slipping through a service entrance, he found the basement stairs, heart pounding with every step. The metal door groaned open.
And then he saw them.
Three bodies. Unmoving. One against the wall, another slumped over a cracked table, the third curled near the emergency exit. No blood. No wounds. Just the kind of stillness that never moves again.
Kai didn't need to get closer to know.
They were dead.
He tapped his badge again. "Boss… confirmation. They're all down. No survivors."
"…What?" The line was quieter now. Tense. "You're saying a kid—"
Kai winced. "He looked young, yeah."
"Beat three of my men? Level 40 and above?"
"Looks like it."
For a long second, there was only static.
Then the boss's voice returned, low and cold. "Tail him. Don't engage. I'm sending someone in to help bring him in."
Kai exhaled shakily. "Understood."
He ran back above ground, and to his relief—he spotted the man. Zane. Still walking, blending into the crowd like nothing had happened.
Kai followed.
Through alleys. Across rooftops. Always at a distance. Always in the blind spots. Zane moved with that eerie grace of someone completely unaware—or so it seemed.
Until he turned into a dark alley.
Kai rushed to the edge of the roof, crouching low. He scanned the ground below.
Empty.
Zane had vanished.
"…Huh?" Kai blinked, leaning forward slightly. "Where did—?"
Not a sound. Not a flicker. Then—from his own shadow—a whisper of movement.
Kai turned—
Too late.
A hand clamped over his mouth. Another rested just beside his throat, not pressing—but letting the threat hang.
Zane stood there—still, precise, and utterly calm.
"I'm flattered," Zane murmured.
"But next time… try not to be so obvious."
Kai didn't even dare breathe.