Niko and Iri walked side by side on the winding dirt road that led into the heart of the city. As they passed through the weathered gates, the world around them shifted into something almost surreal—sunlight poured from the false sky above, casting golden rays on cobblestone streets lined with bustling market stalls, crooked brick buildings, and tall towers built of pale stone. The scent of spices, smoke, and livestock mingled in the warm breeze. Children ran laughing through the alleys, chasing each other with wooden sticks, and the chatter of traders echoed from every direction.
Horses trotted past, pulling carts of hay or barrels, and goats wandered freely near the corners of the market. People shouted prices for fruits and cloth, chickens fluttered across the road, and in the distance, a giant brass bell rang from the tallest tower, marking what must have been midday in this ring.
It felt… normal.
Niko was stunned by how alive the place was. Not just functional, but vibrant. This wasn't like the rest of the House—there were no looming threats, no blood-soaked walls, no invisible hands pushing him toward death. For a moment, it felt like they had entered a true world.
"Wow…" Niko murmured, his black eyes scanning everything in awe. "This is the House?"
Iri chuckled softly. "It's still part of it. Just a different kind of place."
Eventually, they came across a wide wooden building nestled between two flowered alleys. It had a weathered sign above the door shaped like a slanted bed, and smoke curled lazily from a chimney at the top.
"A tavern inn," Iri said, casually. "This'll do."
They stepped inside to the scent of baked bread and candle wax. The floor creaked under their boots, and the walls were lined with faded tapestries and wooden beams. The front desk was a simple slab of polished oak, behind which stood a man with shaggy gray hair and kind green eyes. He looked up from his papers as they approached.
"Two rooms, please," Iri requested, casually flipping a small chipped coin onto the counter.
The clerk took it without even glancing, then looked at both of them with a warm smile. "Two rooms, of course." He turned and plucked a pair of iron keys from a rack behind him and set them down. But as he slid them across the counter, his gaze lingered on Niko.
"You two are from the House, right?" he asked casually, though something strange flickered in his voice. Like quiet recognition.
Niko blinked in confusion. "How would you—?"
"Yes," Iri answered plainly, cutting him off.
The clerk's eyes lit up slightly, and for just a second, his smile seemed to tremble—equal parts wonder and unease. "Well then," he said, voice softer now, "enjoy your stay."
And with that, he turned and walked away without another word.
Niko picked up the keys slowly, eyebrows furrowed. "Okay… what was that about?"
Iri started up the old wooden stairs, and Niko followed. As they reached the hallway lit with wall lanterns and warm light, she answered.
"Some people in the Pale Arc weren't dropped here like us," she said. "They were born here."
Niko looked surprised. "Born? Wait, people live here? Like… whole lives?"
Iri nodded. "Long enough, and if you're lucky—or strong enough—you can survive. And if you survive long enough, you can build. Some started families. Others joined together to form cities. Communities."
Niko paused outside his door, still stunned. "So there's generations of people who've never seen the real world?"
"The House is the real world to them," Iri said softly, leaning against the wall. "They've never seen the sky outside the corridor. Never walked on a planet. This ring is their universe."
"That's… crazy," Niko whispered. "And kind of sad."
"It's both," she admitted. "But it's also peaceful—for now."
Niko opened the door to his room and glanced back at her. "They're afraid of us though, huh?"
"They respect us," Iri corrected. "Fear's just part of that respect."
With that, she gave a tired sigh and walked into her room, the door clicking softly behind her.
Niko stood there for a second longer, staring at the old metal key in his hand, before he stepped into his own room. The bed was stiff, the floor dusty, but it was safe. For now.
Niko sat quietly on the bed, leaning back against the wall as the golden-orange hue of the setting "sun" cast a warm glow through the window. The breeze from the open shutters stirred the air, and the sounds of a bustling city winding down filled the room—merchants packing up, children laughing in the distance, livestock clomping over cobblestone.
His eyes were locked on the sky above the towering buildings, the clouds unmoving like painted art. The beauty was surreal, but Niko wasn't focused on that. His mind drifted—trying to remember. Anything. A face. A voice. What he did before the House took him. But all that came up were flashes of darkness and pain. He sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.
Then he saw it.
Movement down below. A girl—young, maybe thirteen—being dragged into a side alley by four cloaked figures. His eyes narrowed. The way they moved… It wasn't casual. It was predatory.
In a heartbeat, Niko was on his feet. He didn't hesitate—he dashed down the stairs of the inn, past a sleepy-eyed clerk, and burst into the street, scanning for them. He caught a glimpse of the last cloak slipping behind a stone arch. Niko followed.
The alley was long and dim, framed by stacked crates and rusting barrels. He heard them first.
"Heh… she'll fetch a good price."
"She's got clean skin, too. No marks. Rich types like that."
"You think the House even cares about one girl?"
Niko turned the final corner. There they were—four men circling the girl, who was tied at the wrists and ankles, trembling and backed against a wall.
Niko didn't wait for them to notice him. He moved. Fast.
One of them turned just in time to see a black-eyed blur before Niko's fist shattered his jaw. The man collapsed before a sound could leave his throat.
"Who the—!"
Another swung at Niko, but he ducked low, spinning into a sweeping kick that knocked the attacker's legs out. As the third moved in, Niko grabbed the second by the collar and flung him straight into the third like a sack of bricks, both of them crashing into a crate.
The last one reached for a blade—Niko grabbed his wrist, twisted it hard until he heard a snap, then kneed him in the gut and slammed his head into the alley wall. The man slumped.
Breathing hard but focused, Niko turned to the girl. She flinched as he approached.
"Hey…" he said softly, kneeling beside her. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise. You're safe."
She didn't answer, just stared at him with wide, scared eyes.
With slow hands, Niko untied her wrists, then her ankles. He checked for bruises or injuries, gently inspecting her arms and neck.
"You're okay now," he said again, trying to smile. "They're not gonna touch you again."
The girl sniffled, still too stunned to speak.
Niko sat beside her for a long while, letting her calm down. The sun dipped further behind the buildings. A shadow blanketed the alley.
Eventually, he stood and dragged the unconscious men into a pile and used their own belts and ropes to bind them—hands behind their backs, ankles crossed and tied. He propped them up so when they woke, they'd see each other and know they were done for.
Then he returned to the girl's side. She was sitting now, hugging her knees.
"Do you live in this city?" he asked gently.
She nodded once.
"I'll walk you back after they wake up," he said. "You don't have to be alone."
She looked at him now, a bit of trust in her eyes.
Niko leaned against the wall next to her, gazing at the stars beginning to pierce the illusionary sky above.
"I wonder," he murmured to himself, "how many others were taken, and no one was around to stop it."
The girl didn't answer. She just leaned slightly closer.
And so Niko stayed there, eyes open, waiting in silence for the monsters in human skin to wake up—to face justice, or something close to it.
…
The low groans of the men echoed through the narrow alleyway as they began to stir. One by one, their eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the pitch-black shadows that wrapped around them like a suffocating shroud.
Then they saw him.
Niko was crouching just a few feet away in the darkness—still as a statue, unmoving. The faint starlight overhead barely touched him, but what they could see sent a spike of dread down their spines. His black eyes gleamed like bottomless voids, his face unreadable, cold, detached. His presence didn't feel human.
One of the men yelped and tried to crawl backward, only to jerk in place—the ropes around their arms and ankles held them all fast, tightly bound.
"Who were you selling her to?" Niko asked quietly, his voice like stone scraping against steel. "Why do this?"
The men looked at each other, hesitating. Then one of them scoffed weakly, trying to bluff courage.
"It's easy money, man," he muttered, forcing a grin. "Why wouldn't we?"
Another added with a chuckle, "What, you gonna kill us for that? Come on…"
In an instant, a sharp whistle sliced through the alleyway.
A clean line of silver. Then a thump.
One of the men gasped—then collapsed. His head hit the ground a full second later, rolling a few inches before stopping, eyes wide open in lifeless shock. The remaining three screamed in unison, jerking violently, their bonds keeping them in place. Niko stood, his blade now drawn—its surface sleek, reflective, almost too clean.
His eyes still hadn't blinked. They stared straight into the hearts of the men.
"I'm going to ask again," he said, voice steady, unforgiving. "Who were you selling her to?"
They shook. One stammered, "W-we don't know! Swear! He never gives a name—just money."
Another added quickly, "He wears a cloak! Hooded—comes at night!"
Niko stared.
"He's a regular, b-but he stays anonymous!" the third pleaded. "Never talks, just takes 'em and vanishes."
Niko let out a slow, disappointed sigh, sheathing his blade with a quiet shkkt.
"You're going to die for this anyway," he muttered.
The men began to tremble harder.
But then—one of them shouted desperately, "Wait—wait! There was something else!"
Niko paused, head tilted slightly.
The man swallowed hard, voice quivering. "He wore… a jacket. Not a cloak. And it had a crest on the back—a red dragon, curled around a tower."
Niko's eyes sharpened. That caught his attention.
He crouched down again, slowly, so close now the man could see the thin silver scar on his cheek.
"Say that again."
"A red dragon," the man repeated, nearly choking on the words. "He… he's got this sigil. He comes often. If you give us time—maybe a day or two—we can… we can arrange a fake meet. Draw him in."
Niko raised an eyebrow, lips curling faintly.
"Now that… is a good plan."
He stood, dusted his palms, and turned away from the group. The shadows clung to his back like a cape.
"But here's the thing," he added, voice dropping to a near-whisper, laced with venom, "you're going to stay right here. If I shows up and you're not here…" He glanced over his shoulder, eyes burning in the dark. "I'll kill you in ways I don't even want to imagine."
The threat hung in the air like smoke.
The men nodded quickly—sweating, whimpering, practically praying.
Without another word, Niko turned and walked off, leaving them shaking in the dark.
The girl was waiting just outside the alley, her arms still wrapped around herself. When Niko saw her, his expression softened a bit.
"Come on," he said gently. "I'll walk you home."
She nodded silently and followed. The two of them walked side by side under the still twilight sky. No more words were exchanged. She led him to a small home on the quieter edge of the city. Her mother rushed out in tears, scooping the girl into her arms.
Niko stood back, nodded once, and turned to walk away without a word.
The stars were brighter now.
By the time he returned to the alley, the men were still bound—silent now. Watching Niko with the eyes of prey.
And Niko just sat on a barrel beside them, arms crossed, thinking patiently.
The hunt had begun.