The Gifted Divide

"The definition of justice swirled and faded into exceptions, loopholes, and vengeance under the mask of vindication." - Irene Daniels (Blood of Dragons)

* * * *

Sera has no idea what time it was anymore.

Perhaps just a few hours until dawn peeled back the horizon and flooded the sky with diluted gold, but the darkness outside still clung to the boathouse windows like a second skin.

It had been nearly three in the morning when the others had finally drifted off to bed, but Sera knew her people well enough to know that none of them would truly sleep.

Not after what Alexis had dropped on them. Not after hearing that. The weight of it still pressed on the air, invisible but dense, like fog over the sea.

As for herself, Sera had given up trying to sleep an hour ago.

She'd tossed and turned beneath the thin blankets, haunted by too many half-formed questions and a gnawing dread she couldn't name. Eventually, she'd gotten up, wordlessly slipping away into the main lounge of the boathouse and burying herself in the only thing she could cling to: research.

She'd scoured the databases she had access to. Cross-referenced every shady route known to the Abyss. Crawled through Black Network chatter, hoping for even a whisper. Nothing.

Not a trace. Not even a whiff of smoke where there should've been fire.

But Sera knew better.

If someone was running a human trafficking operation targeting Gifted children, in Eldario, of all places, they'd need to be clever. Insanely so.

It wouldn't be some amateur ring operating out of basements. Not here. Not when Larissa's entire rule was built on two things: silence and unbreakable laws.

And yet…

Even Zest had come up short, though he promised to keep listening. And Ethan, of all people, hadn't been able to find anything, either. That alone unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

Sera leaned back against the couch now, a slow, restless sigh leaving her as she pressed her fingertips against her temples. "Is there even a ring?" she murmured aloud, her eyes fixed on the ceiling above. "Or are we chasing ghosts?"

She knew how the underground worked. She'd been raised in it. Lived and bled through its politics. For something this heinous, something as volatile as child trafficking involving Gifted, even rumours should have bled out by now.

Whispers. Half-lies. Dirty secrets passed through trembling lips.

But there was nothing. Just silence.

Sera raised a hand above her head, partially obscuring her view of the ceiling. Her left wrist twitched slightly, the small blade tattoo barely visible in the dim light.

"…Chris…"

A whisper of memory. A name that hadn't touched her lips in years.

"…My name's Chris—"

"…How much time left?"

"Nine hours…"

"…Let's make a promise. You have to live. No matter what, you have to. And should we both survive, let's meet again on the outside…"

The past clawed up like seaweed from the ocean floor—tightening, pulling, and threatening to drown.

A muffled knock at the front door pulled Sera violently back to the present.

"Sera?"

She blinked, disoriented for a beat. Her heart stuttered before settling again. She hadn't even noticed how deep she'd gone.

"Sera, you in there?" The voice was unmistakable—low, muffled, but wry. "The lights are on, so I know someone's still awake."

"Hang on."

Sera unlocked the door and opened it, revealing a familiar figure she hadn't expected to see again tonight.

Alexis Flores stood there, looking thoroughly exhausted.

There were dark circles under his blue eyes—sharp, sea-dark things that flickered over her face, then softened. His chocolate-brown hair, as always, fell messily to his nape, concealing his left eye behind thick strands. His signature black choker, marked with a modest iron cross, gleamed faintly in the hallway light. A fur-trimmed jacket hung from his lean frame, open at the front, his collarbone barely visible beneath the rumpled grey shirt beneath.

Sera gave him a once-over and raised an eyebrow. "It's nearly five in the morning. Have you slept at all since leaving?"

"Pot, meet kettle," Alexis muttered dryly, brushing past her as he nudged the door shut with his boot and practically collapsed into the couch. "I've been investigating."

Sera moved without thinking, already preparing coffee for him. She handed him the mug quietly, and he accepted it like a man who had just been handed the key to life itself.

"I also got Ethan on board," Alexis added after a sip. His expression twisted into something sharp and reluctant. "Don't like it. Never have. But he's still the best when it comes to info."

Sera looked at him, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, her dark coat catching the amber flicker of the lamp. "I know you don't like him."

Alexis scoffed. "The guy's a snake. He plays both sides. He sells to everyone—even the ESA. You know that, right? He's not loyal to anyone but himself. Makes a profit off of death and secrets."

"And yet, he still won't work with hunters," Sera replied, her voice calm but firm.

That earned her a sharp glance.

Sera met Alexis's gaze head-on, her eyes gleaming. "Yes, Ethan sells to the ESA. Yes, he plays the game. But even he has lines he won't cross. There's information he'll never sell, no matter how much they offer. And the hunters? He won't touch them. Not for all the gold in Eldario."

Alexis said nothing for a long moment, simply staring into his mug, as if hoping the coffee might offer a rebuttal. "…He still makes my skin crawl."

Sera let out a quiet breath. "I'm not asking you to like him. I'm asking you to trust that I know how far he'll go, and where he'll stop."

"Fair," Alexis muttered reluctantly.

They fell into silence for a while. The clock ticked softly in the background, a metronome counting down to something neither of them could name.

Then Alexis set down his cup and spoke again. "Hayder got in contact with me earlier. We might've caught a break."

Sera looked up sharply.

"There's an informant. Not from the usual networks. They claim to have the details we need—number of smugglers, their operations, their base rotation schedule. Even locations of the kids being held. But…"

"But?" Sera prompted.

Alexis sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "They'll only meet in a place of their choosing. And they'll only meet with you. Alone. No team. No trackers. No backup."

Sera blinked. Her eyebrows slowly lifted. "…Am I the only one smelling a rat?"

Alexis laughed under his breath. "Oh no. I smelled it the moment Hayder told me. I think one of the Enforcers might've passed the info to him through back channels."

He leaned back into the couch, shaking his head. "But this is how a lot of informants work. Secrecy. Paranoia. Ethan's the weird one for being so open with his name and face. Then again…" Alexis glanced at her, smirking faintly. "That man can take care of himself. I've seen him turn five ESA agents into mulch with nothing but a collapsible baton."

"That sounds like Ethan," Sera muttered.

Alexis's voice darkened slightly. "Thing is, the top-tier informants? They don't need us. They pick their clients. Set their terms. Because information? It's more valuable than gold now. Maybe even more than blood."

Sera nodded once, slowly. "If this intel is real… If someone's out there, buying and selling Gifted children like cargo, we don't get to ignore it. Not this time."

Her voice was quiet, but final. Alexis recognised that tone. The tone of a decision already made.

He didn't argue.

Instead, he gave her the details—the meeting place, the time, and the warning to come unarmed, but knowing full well she wouldn't.

And Sera, in turn, simply nodded.

* * * *

~Pandemonium Bar; Zalfari~

The air inside Pandemonium was thick with the mingling scents of varnish, old wood, and bitter coffee—the perfume of a place still half-built and half-lived-in, breathing life into itself one slow day at a time.

Leroy sat slouched at the edge of the half-polished bar, one hand nursing a ceramic mug of coffee gone lukewarm, the other pressed over his brow in what could only be described as existential fatigue.

Across the table from him, Sera Kroix perched on a crate pulled in as a makeshift stool, her arms folded over her chest, her expression unreadable save for the shadow of fatigue clinging to the edges of her eyes.

At the other end of the bar, Alisa Frazier leaned her weight against the counter, one boot braced on the wooden support beam, arms crossed and a sardonic brow raised as she exchanged a knowing look with Leroy over Sera's head. Her raven hair was pulled into a loose tie, damp at the ends from the earlier rain, and her ocean-blue eyes were locked onto Sera with wary scrutiny.

"So let me get this straight," Leroy said finally, dragging his hands through his already-messy reddish-orange hair until it stuck out like wildfire around his head. "I don't see you for nearly a year, and the moment I do, you come waltzing in here, talking about an untraceable smuggling ring involving children, one that no one in the damn underground has heard even a whisper about?"

He groaned, burying his face in his hands again, and Alisa couldn't help the short laugh that slipped past her lips.

"Sounds like her, doesn't it?" she said, clearly amused. "Always the easy ones, huh?"

Sera offered a wry half-smile, but it faded almost immediately. "I know how it sounds. Believe me, I've gone through every angle of this." She glanced at the dusty, half-finished walls of the bar, noting the hammer and nails abandoned in a corner beside the open supply crates. "Raul came up with nothing. Not even the Black Network has heard of this. And if that's not worrying enough, Ethan turned up dry, too."

That drew Leroy's attention back up. "Ethan?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "You went to him?"

Sera didn't flinch at his tone, though it did sharpen. "Yes. He's still a reliable contact, regardless of what you think."

"You mean regardless of the fact that he's a rat who plays both sides and sells information to the highest bidder?" Leroy shot back, his voice low but biting. "Come on, Sera. You know exactly what kind of man Ethan is. I don't trust people like that. Never have."

Alisa didn't interrupt. She was watching Sera now, carefully, as if searching for cracks beneath the woman's calm facade.

Sera exhaled slowly, folding her arms tighter. "I know Ethan's reputation. I'm not blind. He does sell information, yes, but he has his own code, even if it's twisted. There are lines he won't cross, no matter how much the ESA is willing to pay him. He doesn't work with hunters. Ever. And there are certain pieces of information he won't sell to the ESA, even when they try to buy him."

"And you believe that?" Leroy asked, skeptical.

"I know that," Sera replied quietly. "He's not clean. But he's not a monster, either. I'm not asking you to trust him, Leroy. I'm asking you to trust me. Ethan won't betray me."

Leroy didn't argue the point further. His silence said enough.

It had been nearly a year since the fall of Whirlwind, since Larissa had approached him privately and asked him, no, entrusted him, with becoming Zalfari's new guardian.

It was a title that came with no badge, no fame, and no fixed duties, only responsibility. And it was responsibility that Leroy had embraced, slowly but steadily, rebuilding a town that had nearly torn itself apart in the wake of the hunters' attack.

Zalfari had always walked a line between survival and savagery, but in the last year, it had begun to change.

Together with Alisa, Leroy had poured everything he had into it—bartering favours, negotiating with rogue vendors, even striking cautious agreements with Black Network operatives, and offering refuge to Gifted, Normals, and the exiled alike.

What was once fractured and feral was now becoming something close to stability—still tangled in the underground's grip, but no longer strangled by it.

And Pandemonium—the bar they now co-owned, was proof of it. Built brick by brick from scavenged materials, half-constructed with their own blistered hands, it stood as a testament to the change they were trying to create.

Which made the sudden mention of a smuggling ring involving children all the more chilling.

"Even now," Leroy said slowly, "Zalfari's still a hotspot for black market trades. We've made it safer, yes, but let's not pretend it's an utopia. That said, we would know if something like this was happening here. Someone would have slipped up. There'd be whispers, rumours, and even disappearances we couldn't explain. But we've heard nothing. And I don't like that."

Sera nodded. "Neither do I. That's what makes it so suspicious. Hayder reached out to Alexis with this, but even he didn't know where the intel originated from. Supposedly, it came from an informant with ties to one of the Enforcers."

"Convenient," Alisa muttered, her tone as dry as dust.

"And this informant wants to meet you, and only you, in some undisclosed location," Leroy added, his jaw tight. "Tell me how that doesn't sound like a setup."

"I never said it didn't," Sera murmured, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her scarf. "But if there's even a chance—even a chance—that it's real…"

"You have to check it out," Alisa finished for her, tone softening despite herself. "Because if you don't, and something is happening, then you'll never forgive yourself."

Sera's silence was answer enough.

Across from her, Leroy leaned forward, his chestnut-brown eyes thoughtful. "You know, we've spent the better part of this year making Zalfari a haven. A place where people like you can breathe without watching their backs every second. A place where the underground might still be shady, but at least honourable in its own twisted way." He gestured to the quiet bar around them—the heart of that dream. "And if someone's trying to use that haven to run a child smuggling ring right under our noses…"

Alisa straightened, her blue eyes hard now. "Then we'll burn their entire operation to the ground."

Leroy smiled, slow and grim. "Just like old times."

Sera gave a tired chuckle, but the weight of what she was about to walk into lingered like a storm cloud just outside the door.

"Then I guess I'd better go find out what the hell I'm walking into," she said finally, standing and adjusting the scarf at her waist.

Neither Alisa nor Leroy said anything. They didn't need to. They'd walk with her as far as they could. But after that, it was up to her.

And whatever waited beyond that clandestine invitation.

* * * *

"Well, we've laid out the bait," came the low murmur, cold and steady. The voice was void of tension, absent of emotion, as if this were just another tactic in a game played too many times. "Now we wait. See if she takes it."

A quiet huff answered her, followed by the bitter crackle of a match flaring to life. The acrid scent of burning tobacco joined the stale, metallic tang of old blood and damp stone that clung to the underground corridor like rot. Smoke drifted upward in lazy spirals, ghosting through the faint light leaking from a rusted vent overhead.

"She will," The second man replied, his voice gravelly. "If she's truly the one pulling the strings behind this…Aegis operation, then she'll show herself. They always do, the bleeding hearts. Especially when children are involved." A smirk crept into his tone. "That's the thing about people like her and that demon she used to run with. They're predictable."

"You mean the Death Reaper and the Black Demon?" The woman asked, dry amusement dancing on her tongue. "What a joke. Two self-righteous criminals who decided to play heroes. Drug-trafficking, child smuggling—it's all the same currency to people like us. But to them? It's a line in the sand. A moral limit. How quaint."

A scoff echoed off the damp walls.

"And they were once the leaders of Blade—Eldario's most feared gang? It's laughable. One went soft. The other went missing. No one even knows if the Demon's alive."

"Don't be stupid," came the curt warning. "Underestimating them won't be a mistake you'll make twice. Nearly the entire squadron we sent to Elvryn two years ago ended up dead at their hands. We haven't recovered from the losses we took in those last two years."

"They're rogues," The other snapped. "They've been thorns in our side for years. And just when we thought we were finally rid of them, this Aegis outfit appears like a damn parasite, and we're back at square one. Someone is resurrecting their ideals. And I'm going to bury them again. This time for good."

The man crushed the cigarette under his boot, grinding it slowly into the floor like a dying ember. His expression twisted into a sneer.

"You set the bait," he said. "We'll handle the rest. Six full squads. Veteran hunters. Armed and conditioned for Gifted suppression. It won't matter if it's her. It won't matter if the Demon's with her. They won't stand a chance."

The woman didn't answer. Not at once. Then, in a voice laced with finality, "Don't underestimate them, Mathis. That's not a warning. That's a fact."

And with that, the pair drifted into silence, their footsteps vanishing into the echo of distant mechanical doors slamming shut, somewhere deeper within the bowels of the facility.

Unseen, a shadow detached itself from the wall.

Tucked into a narrow alcove veiled by shadows and flickering light, a lone figure remained perfectly still. Cloaked in black from head to toe, he was little more than a silhouette etched in darkness. But his chest rose and fell with growing urgency, breath held in as fragments of the conversation looped in his mind, looping over the names—Sera, Aegis, six squads, the Death Reaper.

His hands were clenched into fists so tight they trembled, nails biting into scarred palms. Beneath the edge of his collar, a faded sigil—half-burned, half-inked, peeked from his neck, the last remnant of an identity that should have died long ago.

"…Sera…" he whispered, barely more than breath. His voice cracked at the edges, hollowed by the weight of years buried under blood and silence. "I won't lose anyone else. Not again."

His eyes, once dull with purpose lost, now burned with something sharp and dangerous.

Resolve.

Because if what he'd just heard was true, then the war they thought they'd ended had only been paused.

And this time, he would not stand by while the people he cared about were hunted again.

This time, the blade would not remain sheathed.

* * * *

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Sera could practically hear Leroy's mocking voice echo in her mind, laced with that infuriating smirk of his, "I told you so."

She had known, deep down from the beginning, that this was a bad idea. Meeting an informant alone, without so much as a word to Letha, Raul, Laura, or even the old remnants of Blade, went against every hard-earned instinct she possessed. But she'd done it anyway.

She had wanted to believe.

And now, surrounded in a clearing deep in the northern forests—five miles east of Zhane City, her misplaced trust was closing in like a noose. Thirty hunters, clad in combat black, their eyes gleaming behind masks and visors, rifles, knives, and energy-charged batons bristling in their hands, were drawing their net tighter.

Sera remained perfectly still. Slouched, hands tucked loosely in her jacket pockets, her mismatched gaze calm and unreadable.

"I really wish I could say I'm surprised," she said, her tone flat, voice ringing clear across the tension-thick air. Her eyes found the only familiar face among the hunters. "So, Ale. How much did they pay you to be the bait?"

'Ale', an informant she'd once trusted enough to meet alone, shrugged and accepted a thick envelope from the lead hunter without shame.

"I need to eat. I need a roof over my head," he said blandly. "Don't blame me for surviving. Most wouldn't do any different."

No, they probably wouldn't. But that didn't make it forgivable.

Selling out anyone to the hunters was one of the highest crimes in Eldario's underground. The kind that made your name echo down alleyways as a curse. It had happened once before—Dragonfly's betrayal of Raul, and the scars it left on the underground had never healed.

Sera's voice was almost gentle as she spoke next, deadly calm. "You'd better find a hole to crawl into, Ale. Or better yet, leave Eldario. Tonight. Because I will find you. And if I don't, Leroy or Alisa will. If Zest finds you first…"

She let that thought hang. Everyone knew the reputation of Zest—the Black Demon. Even the hunters. Part of the reason why Blade was so feared is partially due to Zest's own reputation.

The informant paused, the crunch of dead leaves beneath his boots faltering as her words sank in. Still, he walked away without looking back.

"You talk like you're going to leave this place alive," Someone muttered from among the hunters.

Sera said nothing. But her eyes didn't blink. "Oh, I will," she murmured at last, low and razor-sharp. "No hunter has ever bested me. And today, I'll remind you all why I earned the name Death Reaper."

"You talk like you can beat us all," Another hunter said. A young voice. Nervous.

"New recruit," Sera guessed aloud, her gaze locking on the boy who flushed under his mask. "Hmph. Let's make this quick."

Her finger hooked the loop of her dagger's sheath. The blade whispered out, twirling once in her hand before she stilled it in a reverse grip. Her eyes gleamed with fire.

"Let's get this show on the road."

No one knew who moved first. But in the next second, the forest erupted.

The hunters surged in, their weapons raised, moving like a pack of wolves with teeth bared, and two dropped before they got halfway. Their bodies crumpled with bloody slashes across their throats, eyes wide and glassy.

No one had even seen her move.

"Surround her! Gun her down!"

They tried. But bullets slowed mid-air, caught in a net of invisible force, then reversed course with deadly precision, streaking back toward their senders. A second later, they joined the growing dead.

"You think numbers give you an edge?" Sera sneered, slipping between two hunters as effortlessly as wind through leaves. She twisted beneath a baton swing, pivoted, and hurled a knife into the chest of the man behind her without looking. "Idiots."

The rookie charged at her again. She stepped into his swing, hand snapping to his throat and twisting. His body dropped, limp.

"Damn it! How the hell is she—!?"

A sudden BANG silenced the rest.

A hunter behind Sera dropped mid-step, his head half-blown apart, his body twitching on the dirt.

Sera turned, and so did the remaining hunters.

Two figures stood poised atop a thick bough overhead, silhouetted by the light filtering through the canopy.

Leroy, smirking like a devil, his gun already aimed for his next kill. Alisa beside him, her weapon drawn and eyes sharp.

"I told you to stop taking solo missions, Sera," Leroy said, his voice light, almost amused. "And are you sure you aren't losing your touch? These guys shouldn't be a match for you, even without your Gift."

"We got Ethan to keep tabs on Ale for us," Alisa answered, eyes flickering around. "He won't let Ale escape our net."

The remaining hunters froze. At least half recognised them. The Shark and the Phantom Blade, infamous in every street whisper that ever spoke Blade's name.

"What are they doing here?" The lead hunter growled.

"Blade doesn't abandon our own," Alisa said, flicking the safety off with an audible click. Her smile was cold. "You got lucky once. But Blade never repeats the same mistake twice."

"And we brought backup," Leroy added with a wolfish grin. "You really thought three squads would be enough?"

As if summoned, three bodies dropped from above—hunter uniforms shredded, their throats carved open. One hit the ground with a wet crunch.

Then he landed.

Zest dropped beside Sera with a silent grace, his dagger loose in one hand, eyes glowing faintly red in the dim light.

His presence hit like a wave.

The lead hunter paled. "Zexter Mifaelen…" he hissed. "The Black Demon. You're really still alive."

"I stopped going by that name a long time ago," Zest replied flatly. "But if you know it, then you know what I'm capable of."

The lead hunter's hand trembled on his trigger.

Zest tilted his head, smile calm and without mirth. "So what's it going to be? You still want to try your luck?"

Some of the older hunters visibly recoiled. They knew. They remembered what he'd done. Zest had earned a place on their internal blacklist for a reason—high bounty, kill-on-sight, flee if alone. No one ever forgot the defector who slaughtered his own unit in a single night all by himself.

"You're a traitor—!"

"To be a traitor, I would have had to believe in your cause," Zest said coldly. "I never did. You're filth. All of you."

"We're the survivors of Blade," Leroy added, stepping forward. "The inner circle."

"You really want to fight us?" Alisa's eyes glittered. "We don't leave witnesses."

"No one's walking out," Sera confirmed. "And I hope for your sake that you all have your affairs in order."

The hunters hesitated for one brief heartbeat. And then chaos returned.

All four moved as one.

Zest surged forward, his dagger a blur, slicing two throats in a single movement before flipping sideways over a baton swing. He rolled through a hunter's legs, drove his blade into their spine, and spun again, knocking a pistol out of another's hand with a savage kick.

Leroy's gun barked once—twice—clean and efficient. He moved with surgical precision, dodging bullets by inches, letting momentum carry him from kill to kill. A knife flashed in his off-hand, slashing open a throat before he pivoted and shot another dead.

Alisa was shadow-fast, ducking beneath a swing, snapping a wrist, and firing point-blank into a hunter's chest. Another tried to flank her—he caught a bullet to the temple.

Sera danced through the fray like a spectre. Every movement was brutal grace—twirling, weaving, and slashing, one dagger in her hand, the other floating beside her with her Gift, moving with sentient, terrifying precision.

The screams didn't last long.

Blood painted the grass. Bullets failed. Blades snapped. And soon, the only sound left was the shallow breathing of the dying and the soft crackle of Sera's scarf in the breeze.

It was over in less than three minutes.

The clearing was soaked red. Not a single hunter was left breathing.

Zest knelt by one of the bodies and wiped his blade clean. "Not as messy as I expected."

Leroy exhaled and cracked his neck. "We're getting rusty."

Alisa didn't answer. She was already walking over to Sera. "You okay?"

Sera nodded, silent. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes burned.

"I told you it was a trap," Leroy said.

"I know." She looked down at the corpses. "They were going to sell children again. I saw it in their eyes. Same kind of scum who ran the hunters' so-called 'research' facilities."

A chill passed over the group.

The hunters hadn't changed. Not truly. Behind all their reforms and new banners, they were still the same beasts. Traffickers. Torturers. They still whispered about 'cleansing' Eldario. Still experimented on the Gifted. Still took children for testing.

And this time, they had nearly baited her.

"They've gotten bolder," Zest said quietly. "And there's more of them. Stronger. Better trained."

"Then we'll remind them," Leroy said, his voice sharp. "Blade never died. We're still here. And if they keep pushing, we'll burn them all."

The first lights of dawn were starting to creep over the horizon, casting soft gold over the bloodstained forest clearing. Birds began to stir, unaware of the bodies scattered among the dead leaves.

Alisa, meanwhile, idly nudged one of the corpses with the toe of her boot, her expression unreadable. The body didn't move. She didn't expect it to.

A few paces away, Zest leaned against a tree trunk with his arms folded, speaking in low tones with Sera, their words quiet but edged with something unspoken, even as Leroy stood a little off to the side, speaking in hushed tones into his phone—calling in the Cleaners, an elusive unit in the underground world whose sole business was erasing the mess left behind by street-level warfare.

For the right price, they'd make even a massacre disappear.

"I'd say 'I told you so', but I think you've already learned your damn lesson," Zest said dryly, the edge of exasperation in his voice softened only by the slight arch of his brow. He looked every bit the part of the battle-worn phantom—lean, tall, and unsettlingly composed.

Sera flushed slightly, scratching the side of her cheek with a guilty finger. "Sorry."

Zest sighed, the sound more tired than frustrated. "I'm not gonna scold you. There's no point. This is just how you are. You take everything onto your own shoulders, like the world will fall apart if you don't. I get it, I'm the same." His red eyes flickered. "But, Sera… You're not alone anymore. You don't have to be."

His words lingered in the morning air.

Alisa called out from her post by the body. "He's right, you know." She straightened and dusted off her jacket, her eyes sharp. "I haven't met your new crew yet, but if Raul and even Letha are with you, I can make a good guess about the kind of people they are. If they're anything like we were back in Blade, then trust me, they'd throw themselves into hell if it meant helping you." She crossed her arms and fixed Sera with a pointed look. "We told you this over and over, back then. You don't have to carry it all. We're here. We want to help. So stop shutting us out."

Sera let out a breath and dragged a hand through her raven-black hair, slightly tangled from the earlier fight. It was a terrible habit of hers—this stubborn independence. Leroy and Zest had chided her about it more times than she could count back when Blade was still whole.

"I really should stop repeating the same damn mistakes," Sera muttered, half to herself. "Though if I know my guys, they probably already figured out what I was doing. I'll be in for it when I get back."

She could already picture Raul's disapproving stare, Laura's exasperation, and even Letha's silent disapproval. And if Alexis or Ethan had caught wind of it? Well… She'd be lucky to walk away with just a lecture.

Alisa gave a sharp laugh. "You definitely got that coming."

"Cleaner squad's thirty minutes out," Leroy announced, slipping his phone back into his jacket. "Told us to stay put until they get here."

No one needed to say why. A clearing full of butchered hunters wouldn't go unnoticed for long, and if any civilians happened to stumble onto it, there'd be questions no one in the underground wanted to answer.

Best-case scenario: rumours. Worst-case? War.

Zest exhaled slowly, glancing toward the perimeter. "Seems like this whole 'request' was just a pretty little trap." He raised his hands and mimed air quotes.

Sera gave a small nod. They'd all suspected something was off from the moment Alexis handed down the mission. The intel had been too vague, and too lacking in context. Raul had called it out first, and Laura hadn't trusted it either. Letha, as always, had simply said nothing, but her silence had been confirmation enough.

"The hunters are making their move," Alisa said grimly. "And they know you're alive, Sera."

Zest's gaze sharpened. "Which means the rest of us need to be very careful." His voice was quiet now, and more contemplative. "If the massacre of Blade was the opening move, and what happened to Whirlwind and Dragonfly after…" He trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "They're tightening their grip. Quietly."

"Shocking," Leroy said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "The hunters scheming something? Colour me surprised."

Sera's tone was clipped, all business again. "Right now, we clean up. Then we figure out what the hell's going on. If someone high up in the Abyss passed along this phantom request, it means they've been compromised. Larissa will need to find the leak. Because if the hunters are infiltrating the underground, too…"

The words didn't need to be spoken. It was enough to remember what had already happened to the ESA. And to the Council. Eldario might still be officially run by the Eldario Council, but the truth of the matter is that it is the hunters who are in power.

"There'll be nowhere left for the Gifted to run," Zest murmured, his voice distant, almost hollow. A bitter cold spread in his chest at the thought.

Then Leroy's voice broke the silence again, sharp and wary. "Hold up. Didn't you say the request came from Hayder?"

Sera nodded slowly.

"The Hayder? Head of the Enforcers? Larissa's second-in-command?"

Another nod.

Leroy paled. "Shit. If he's compromised, if Hayder is working with the hunters, then this isn't just infiltration. This is a full-scale takeover."

Sera groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her head was pounding now, from adrenaline and frustration and the sheer weight of implications piling higher and higher. "This whole thing's a fucking disaster…"

A sound reaches her ears just then—a shift in the air, soft movement at the edge of perception. It cut through her thoughts like a blade. Instinct kicked in. All four of them turned sharply in unison.

A hunter, blood-slick and barely clinging to consciousness, was staggering upright.

He shouldn't have been alive.

One side of his face was mangled with gore, and yet his grip on the gun was steady—shaking, yes, but determined. His hate-filled eyes locked onto Sera and Zest with manic clarity.

"Shit—!" Alisa reached for her weapon instinctively, but her motion was too slow.

"Sera! Zest!"

"Die, abominations!" The hunter shrieked.

Sera dove to the side, with Zest doing the same. The gunshot cracked like thunder, loud enough to send birds scattering from the trees.

Sera rolled and sprang back to her feet, ignoring the stinging scrape of bark and dirt against her palms. Her eyes scanned the scene—no new injuries—but then she caught it. The hunter was howling in pain, the gun now several feet away. A gleam of silver jutted from his right hand.

A knife.

It had pierced clean through the flesh, forcing him to drop the weapon.

A gunshot mark was now embedded in the trunk behind where Zest had just stood.

Someone had saved them.

Alisa didn't hesitate. Her face twisted into a scowl as she raised her gun and fired. "Not today, you bastard."

The final shot rang out like judgment. The hunter's body slumped forward and hit the ground with a dull thud, a neat hole drilled clean through his temple. His eyes remained wide in death, frozen in disbelief.

Leroy's voice cut in from behind. "You two okay?!"

"We're good," Zest coughed as he stood, brushing himself off.

Sera was at his side in an instant, worry flickering behind her mismatched eyes. He was still recovering. He wasn't ready for this level of strain again.

"That knife, though…" Zest's voice trailed as he stepped toward the hunter's corpse.

Sera knelt beside him, her eyes narrowing. The blade had been thrown with incredible precision. A single strike, cleanly disabling the threat without killing. She recognised the craftsmanship.

"Tell me I'm not the only one who's seen that knife before," Leroy said, his brow furrowed.

"You're not," Alisa said quietly, her gaze now on high alert.

Zest studied the angle. The knife had to have come from above—high up, concealed in the treetops. He grasped the hilt, pulled it free, and wiped it on the hunter's shirt. The design, the balance—it was unmistakable.

Sera's eyes drifted toward the canopy.

And for a brief second, just before the shadows swallowed it, a figure slipped away through the trees.

Silent. Fast. Familiar.

Zest's eyes locked with hers. "…Jamie?"

* * * *

Hayder Beck had expected a relatively quiet morning. Some paperwork, a few strategic meetings, perhaps a spat with Larissa about reorganising the Enforcer patrol routes.

What he had not expected was for the remains of Blade to come crashing through his door—quite literally—with weapons drawn and eyes burning with the kind of fury that didn't just demand answers, but retribution.

The door had been kicked off its hinges.

Ale, the snivelling informant who had orchestrated half the underground's secrets for the last two years, now lay writhing on the floor in a growing pool of blood, clutching the stump where his right hand used to be.

His whimpers were pitiful, barely audible over the heavy silence that had descended in the room. And yet, no one looked away. No one showed mercy.

Those familiar with the underground understood what had just happened. The mark of the Oathbreaker—an ancient punishment from the days before the Abyss had laws, when loyalty was enforced not with rules but with blood.

Ale had broken the unspoken code that held this shadow world together. And now, he would wear that betrayal for however long he managed to survive.

Hayder's golden eye flicked to the four intruders. No, former comrades. But the difference was trivial. Right now, they weren't acting like old allies. They were acting like executioners.

Zest stood over his desk, one hand splayed against the wood after slamming it down with a force that made the whole thing tremble. His hair fell across his eyes like a curtain of shadow, but those crimson irises bore into Hayder with the cold clarity of a killer who had survived one ambush too many. His black hoodie, still smudged with soot from the forest fight, looked like it had been torn straight from the flames he carried on his sleeves.

"I'm going to skip the pleasantries," Zest said, his voice a low, dangerous drawl. "Perhaps you'd like to explain, Beck, why a 'non-existent' request sent Sera straight into a hunter trap? Thirty—thirty—armed bastards lying in wait, and you sent her in blind."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Then…

CRACK.

Zest's hand slammed down again, the wood groaning under the force. Outside, curious eavesdroppers flinched and ducked away from the shattered doorway, though a few lingered, too spellbound, or too stupid, to leave.

Leroy's voice cut in like a whip. "And this piece of shit," he spat, planting his boot down on Ale's back with enough force to draw another scream, "had the audacity to sell us out to hunters? We don't forget that. You remember what happened the last time someone in Blade got sold out? Because I do."

Hayder didn't flinch, but it took effort. Leroy's voice had that deadly calm to it—the kind that told you violence was the only thing keeping him stable right now.

Sera stood apart from the others, her coat still damp with morning dew, strands of raven-black hair brushing against her cheeks. The two-tone stare of her eyes were colder than the steel glinting beneath the scarf tied at her waist.

"If I don't like your answers, Hayder," she said softly, her voice like ice, "then I hope you had your affairs in order."

Hayder raised his hands slowly, trying to speak through a dry throat. "Look, it's not me. Do you really think I'm suicidal enough to go after you, Sera? I've got enough enemies without making you one."

But Blade didn't back down. Not even a twitch. The members of Blade had always been infamous across Eldario, even before the group shattered and scattered into whispers. Their unity now, after years apart, was more terrifying than ever.

They didn't need to threaten. Their silence did it for them.

"Swear on the Goddess," Zest growled, his voice low and vibrating with restraint. "Swear you didn't send Sera in to die. Swear you're not in bed with the hunters."

Hayder met his eyes, his back rigid with tension. "I swear on the name of the Goddess, and on the honour of the Abyss, that I didn't plan that ambush. I never betrayed the underground. Never."

There was a stillness in the room as they gauged him. Sera, watching his face like a hawk. Alisa, with one hand still resting on her sidearm. Leroy, his boot still digging into Ale's spine. And Zest…waiting.

Finally, Sera gave a curt nod. "He's telling the truth."

The tension didn't ease, but weapons lowered. Slightly.

"It seems we've all been played," came a calm, composed voice from the shattered doorway.

Everyone turned in unison.

And there stood Larissa. The Premier of the Abyss.

Regal even in the chaos. Her dark auburn hair curled gently over bare shoulders, the dark navy dress she wore flowing elegantly over her frame. Her brown eyes, however, were devoid of warmth—sharp, unreadable, and infinitely dangerous.

Even Blade stepped back instinctively.

Because Larissa was not simply a leader, she was the law. In a world of backstabbing informants and secret wars, she was the one person even the most ruthless dared not cross.

There were whispers of what she'd done in the early days of her career, how she'd clawed her way to the top not through brute force, but through precision and iron control. She had dismantled entire factions with a single word. Buried secrets under concrete. And made traitors vanish before their second breath.

Even Sera, no stranger to blood and fire, nodded with a hint of deference. "Larissa. It's been a while."

"Too long," Larissa replied with a faint smile. "We'll have time to catch up later." Her gaze slid to Ale, still whimpering under Leroy's boot. "Do you mind if I handle him? I'd like to know exactly how deep his dealings with the hunters go. And punishment is due."

Sera's lips twitched, but she nodded. Self-preservation was a rare trait among leaders, and one she wasn't willing to ignore.

With a flick of Larissa's fingers, two guards appeared behind her. Dressed in dark combat gear with the insignias of the Abyss—the hydra, stitched in blood-red thread, they moved without a word, hoisting Ale up as he screamed, begging, grovelling.

None of it mattered. By the time the doors shut behind them, it was already clear: Ale would not be seen again.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Sera broke it with a rasp in her voice. "I heard it was you who asked me to take the request," she said to Hayder, stepping forward again. "So tell me, who gave you the intel that led me into a trap?"

Hayder hesitated. His eye darted to the doorway, then to Larissa.

The Premier's expression sharpened. "Answer her."

Hayder grimaced, his jaw tight. "It was…one of the Enforcers," he said slowly. "Ebis. She's a covert. She's never failed us before. Never fed us false info. I had no reason to doubt her."

Larissa's expression gave away nothing. "Where is she now?"

"Should be in the East Wing. Resting after her return."

Larissa turned to the nearest guard. "Bring Ebis here. Now."

The guard vanished.

The others remained quiet, but beneath that silence was a storm. Not just betrayal, but the possibility of betrayal.

The very idea that Hayder might have been compromised had sent Blade back into their most violent instincts. They had lost everything once. They weren't going to let it happen again.

And if Larissa—ruthless, cunning Larissa, felt the scales beginning to tilt beneath her feet, then the entire underground might soon tremble in response.

Because if the Abyss was leaking…

"Ebis. Ebis…" Zest murmured under his breath, his arms crossed and head tilted slightly as if trying to dislodge a splintered memory. "That name's familiar…"

"I met her once," Leroy offered, his tone laced with unease. "Over a year ago, when Larissa summoned me to the inner district of the Abyss. It was my first and only time meeting her. Something about her gave me the creeps. Felt off."

"If you're the one saying that, Leroy…" Alisa's voice was low and cautious, her eyes narrowing. Her words trailed off, as if even speaking them aloud might invoke something poisonous.

The sound of approaching footsteps cut off further speculation.

The same Abyss guard from earlier returned, this time escorting a young woman with sleek black hair falling just to her shoulders, and cold, ocean-blue eyes that flickered briefly across the room. Something unreadable passed behind them. Whatever emotion flickered there vanished before it could be named.

"You called for me, Premier?" Ebis asked with an easy, professional tone, though the sharpness of her gaze betrayed a guarded edge.

Sera frowned, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the woman. Her instincts stirred, honed from years on the run and sharpened even more under Blade's violent fall and Aegis's hidden war.

Something was wrong.

"I've heard quite the interesting story today, Ebis," Larissa said smoothly, her voice tinged with a certain polite softness that never fooled anyone who knew her.

Sera recognised it instantly. Beneath that silk was steel, and it had cut many before.

Hayder, who had remained uncharacteristically silent throughout, stood slowly from his chair, his movements deliberate and cautious, as if trying not to provoke a beast whose claws were already halfway unsheathed.

"It appears you fed Hayder false intel," Larissa continued, her tone still pleasant, smile perfectly in place, but her brown eyes had gone ice-cold. "Information that led him to send Sera, alone, into a trap with thirty hunters lying in wait."

SLAM.

The desk groaned in protest as Larissa's hand cracked down on its surface, the sound like a gunshot in the silence that followed.

Everyone in the room flinched—even Zest's lips twitched slightly. The air had gone still, thick with a palpable sense of danger.

"You did that deliberately," Larissa whispered, her voice cutting and precise. "Didn't you?"

Everyone in the room understood exactly what was happening now.

The Enforcers—agents of law within the lawless, the ones who enforced the Abyss's underground code with an iron fist and discretion sharper than any blade, were not prone to accidents.

A mistake on their part meant a head rolled.

And Ebis wasn't just an Enforcer. She was their covert agent, chosen for her ability to operate in shadows and extract truth from whispers.

There were no mistakes here.

Ebis huffed and turned her gaze to Sera, who remained leaning against the edge of Hayder's desk, her arms crossed, watching silently with narrowed eyes. "To think thirty hunters couldn't even kill you," she said bitterly. "I suppose your title as the Death Reaper is…well-earned."

Her words slithered through the room like a snake.

"Ebis…" Hayder's voice was hoarse and incredulous, though the edge of fury in it was undeniable. "So it's true. You tried to have her killed."

"She's a Gifted!" Ebis spat the word like it was something filthy. "A freak. An abomination. What does it matter if one of them dies? What does it—"

CRACK.

The slap rang out like a lightning strike.

Even Sera, who had grown used to sudden violence, blinked. It wasn't the slap itself that stunned them—it was who had delivered it.

Larissa. Calm, elegant, composed Larissa, whose fury never showed on her face, but instead moved like a riptide underneath her control, had struck Ebis hard enough to leave a mark.

"Boss…" Hayder's voice was a whisper now, full of disbelief. In all the years he'd followed Larissa, in all the times he'd seen her operate with quiet ruthlessness, he had never seen her lose control. And yet, here she was, trembling with barely-restrained fury.

Larissa's voice was cool, but her eyes burned as she turned to Sera. "You have my sincerest apologies, Sera," she said, with the grave dignity of a monarch acknowledging failure. "This was done with my seal, by someone under my command. I will take responsibility for that failure. But you were the one endangered. You were nearly murdered. And so, I will allow you to decide her punishment."

"You're leaving my fate…to a freak—"

"The only freak I see here is you," Hayder snapped suddenly, his golden eye gleaming with fury. "You walk among the very people you despise. You live under the same roof, breathe the same air, and yet, this is how you repay that trust?" He looked nauseated. "How many have you sold out over the years, Ebis? How many Gifted have vanished because of you?" He turned away, hands clenched into fists. "I trusted you. You were supposed to protect our people. You made me a damn fool."

"That's not the worst of it," Zest said quietly, his voice unnervingly calm as he took a step forward. "Tell me something, Ebis."

Ebis turned toward him, stiffening.

"When exactly did you start working for the hunters?" Zest asked, his tone even. "Or… Were you always one of them?"

The question hit the room like a thunderclap.

"What?!" Leroy's eyes widened, stunned.

"You think she's a hunter?" Alisa breathed.

"She doesn't just hate the Gifted," Sera said, her voice like a scalpel. "She fears them. That kind of hatred isn't born from one bad encounter. That kind of hatred is taught—indoctrinated from the time you're old enough to speak." She pushed off the desk and took a step forward. "The only people who truly believe that the Gifted are monsters down to their bones…are the hunters."

She let the words hang in the air like a blade waiting to fall.

It's part of why the Gifted is so ostracised in Eldario right now, mainly due to the propaganda by the hunters for decades. The only place where they could be safe at the moment is just the Abyss.

Sure, there are always certain members of the underground who also dislike Gifted, but unlike the civilians and the hunters, they don't harbour extreme hatred for them. The people of the underground values power, and most Gifted have that in spades.

"There's a reason why propaganda has shaped Eldario into what it is. But even civilians, as fearful and misinformed as they are, know better than to go out of their way to kill a Gifted. They fear the consequences. They fear what happens when you push a Gifted into a corner. Hunters, on the other hand?" Sera's eyes narrowed. "They call it cleansing."

Ebis was silent now, her mask slipping. She seemed…tense. Not defensive, not fearful. Just exposed.

"You're not just a sympathiser," Sera said softly, her voice deadly. "You're one of them. Ebis Ivanor."

The name struck the room like ice water.

Leroy paled. "I-Ivanor?" he echoed. "That Ivanor? The hunter family?"

Hayder's face twisted with horror.

"Hayder, you brought a hunter into the Abyss?" Larissa was outraged. Though it now explains the leak and even the problems that the Abyss and the underground have been having in recent years.

Hayder's voice broke, full of shame. "Boss, I didn't know—"

"Clearly," Larissa growled, her words low and venomous. "But that doesn't absolve the failure." She looked at Ebis with a gaze so sharp it could've sliced skin from bone. "The leaks. The disappearances. The failed operations. The increase in hunter presence in the northern districts. I thought it was a shift in tactics. But no. It was you. All along."

"I should've killed you when I had the chance," Hayder spat.

But Zest wasn't done. He leaned in, his red eyes burning into Ebis's. "I remember that night two years ago. When Blade fell. You were there."

Sera nodded, her voice quiet. "I couldn't place it until now. That night was chaos—storm, smoke, and blood. But I never forgot the face of the one who looked at me like she wanted to tear me apart. Like I was filth." She turned toward Ebis, her gaze hard. "It was you. You were one of the hunters that attacked us."

There was no denial from Ebis now. Just silence. A silence far more dangerous than anything she could've said.

And in that moment, every person in that room understood one thing: This wasn't just betrayal. It was infiltration.

It was rot, sown from the inside.

And it had worn their face.

Hayder raised a single brow, his expression a mixture of confusion and calculation as his gaze swept across the room. The claim lingered in the air like a poisonous fog.

The attack on Blade and the torching of Elvryn was, according to every whisper in the underground, an unsanctioned ESA operation—reckless, covert, and unapproved.

And yet here stood Sera Kroix, claiming the attackers were hunters?

From the steely silence and unmoved expressions of the remaining Blade survivors, it was evident that none of them were surprised.

"They knew," Hayder realised aloud, though his voice barely rose above a murmur.

"Sera doesn't forget a face once she's seen one," Alisa cut in, her arms folded tightly, her eyes fixed on Ebis with quiet scorn. "And sanctioned or not, no ESA agent would've dared to touch Elvryn. Not back then. Just like how Zalfari was off-limits. So yeah, we suspected hunters from the beginning." She paused, her voice dropping. "Not even the dumbest ESA officer would willingly pick a fight with the underground's street gangs. They'd need a death wish."

"I see." Larissa's voice was soft, but it silenced the room instantly. Her eyes closed briefly, her brow twitching slightly as her mind stitched together the loose threads at breakneck speed. "You joined us five years ago, claiming to have survived a gang wiped out by hunters. You rose swiftly through the ranks, earned our trust, became an Enforcer…" Her eyes opened again, sharper now. Colder. "You're the leak."

"The source of our failures. The rot in the Abyss." Hayder's voice dropped like a stone, quiet but murderous. "You let them in. Hunters. In here. We'll need to purge the network. A lockdown. Deep clean. I don't care how long it takes."

He could already feel the phantom weight of a gun in his palm.

"You couldn't let the biggest threat to you live," Hayder went on, bitter now. "Blade. They've always been the best at sniffing out hunters. Too dangerous. So, they had to fall. Not just because of Sera. Or Zest."

The two named twitched ever so slightly at the mention, but neither spoke.

"Blade. Dragonfly. Whirlwind." Larissa's eyes narrowed, her tone turning cool and unforgiving. "Three pillars of the underground. Gone or weakened in less than a year. Blade's downfall was only the beginning. Whirlwind collapsed next. Dragonfly bled out soon after."

And without them, the underground was a carcass picked clean by opportunists.

Even Leroy, now the reluctant guardian of what remained of Zalfari, couldn't shoulder the weight of a fallen pillar alone. Not without his crew.

Klein of Whirlwind, Yusa of Dragonfly, and Sera—each a force in their own right. Two dead. One hunted. The timing wasn't coincidence. It was strategy.

Zest exhaled sharply, cutting through the rising tension like a blade. "This doesn't sound like Nicolosi. Too sloppy. Too personal. Were you acting alone, Ivanor?"

Ebis's snarl came quick, like a feral dog cornered. "You don't get to speak to me, traitor!" she spat. "We raised you. Gave you everything. And this is how you repay us?"

"You turned him into a weapon," Sera interrupted, her voice icy and precise. "Don't pretend your motives were noble. You did it for yourself, not him. Hunters like you always do. You never think of the cost. Of the people you trample underfoot. You hunters just did whatever you want, not caring who you hurt or kill in the process. I'm tired of it."

"Sera…" Alisa murmured.

"How long have you been a hunter?" Hayder demanded, his tone clipped.

"They train them young," Zest said flatly. "If they're born into it, like she was, they never even get a choice."

"I've always been one," Ebis said proudly, ignoring Zest. "I was born to this legacy. I will die for it. I will honour the name of Gene Alescio."

The room froze.

Sera's fingers twitched. Leroy's face contorted in fury.

"You dare speak that name here?!" Leroy exploded, his voice rough with rage. "After everything that man did?!"

"He's a hero—!"

"He's a monster!" Alisa's hand drifted to her holster. "Don't speak his name. Not here. Not in the Abyss."

"Hold." Larissa's voice cut through like the snap of a whip, her hand gently resting on Hayder's arm as his fingers hovered near his gun.

There were names the underground despised. Names that burned like old scars. Gene Alescio was chief among them—a man whose legacy was paved in torture, in experiments, and even in the screams of the Gifted.

And Larissa had always believed his "accidental death" was no accident at all.

"You dare invoke him," Larissa said coldly. "So yes. You're a hunter. Not that I doubted it." Her gaze sharpened, her voice becoming surgical. "You played the long game. Embedded yourself within the Abyss. Fed our intel to your masters. Let others take the fall for your sins. And all the while, you grinned in our faces."

Ebis bared her teeth in a sneer. "How does it feel, Premier? Knowing you executed loyal men and women—your own people—because you believed my lies?"

The silence was suffocating.

Zest and Sera exchanged dark glances. Even they had heard whispers of those quiet purges—Enforcers dragged out of their quarters and never seen again, accused of treason with damning evidence that no one ever questioned.

And now, the pieces slid into place.

Sera's voice was tight. "You engineered it all. Got those you couldn't control eliminated. You built trust with blood."

Hayder looked sick. "…The evidence," he murmured, the realisation sinking in like a blade. "You brought it forward. You pointed fingers. You convinced us. And those so-called 'witnesses'—they were yours. Fellow hunters. Informants. You orchestrated the deaths of innocents." He swayed slightly, reaching back for the desk behind him.

Sera watched Ebis like a hawk, noting the faintest twitch in her body, the shift of her foot. Leroy and Alisa had already moved subtly, flanking the broken doorway, ready to intercept if she made a break for it.

Larissa, ever composed, exhaled slowly. Then turned to Sera. "Well?" Her voice held none of her earlier softness. "What do you want to do with her? By our laws, you have every right to demand retribution. She may be a hunter, but she wears the badge of an Enforcer. And she falls under our jurisdiction."

Ebis's face drained of colour. Larissa hadn't even used her name.

The Abyss's laws were brutal, yes, but they were necessary. Forged in blood, maintained with discipline. Every member of the underground knew and followed them. They offered structure in a world that once had none.

"You can't do this! I'm a hunter! You have no jurisdiction over me!" Ebis shouted, hysteria creeping into her voice.

Click.

The sound of Hayder flicking the safety off his gun echoed through the room like a death knell.

"Don't test me," he said, his voice like stone.

Sera didn't even blink. Still leaning casually against Hayder's desk, she addressed Larissa, not even bothering to look at Ebis. "Even if we reported this," she said coolly, "the hunters would sweep it under the rug. The ESA wouldn't touch her. She's protected. You know how deep they've wormed into Eldario's systems."

Everyone in the room knew it. The legal system in Eldario was a puppet show—and the hunters held the strings. Even parts of the ESA had fallen under their influence. The Gifted Task Force was already compromised beyond repair.

Larissa nodded grimly. "I agree. So, what will it be, Sera?"

She knew the answer already. She had seen the look in Sera's eyes—quiet, measured, and cold.

There was a long pause. Then, in a voice that sent a chill down every spine in the room, Sera answered, "…A duel," she said. "One to the death. I challenge her to the Pit."

Sharp gasps echoed like gunfire.

Even Ebis staggered back a step, her bravado vanishing in an instant. The Pit was no mere arena—it was where true justice in the Abyss was rendered.

Brutal. Final. Inescapable.

"She killed my people," Sera said evenly. "She tried to kill me. Might've succeeded if not for Zest, Alisa, and Leroy. Let's see how brave she is when it's just her power against mine." She turned to Ebis, her voice dropping to a low rasp. "You know who I am. You know what I'm capable of. I didn't earn the title of Death Reaper by luck. Get your affairs in order."

Larissa gave a single, solemn nod, showing none of her unease. "A duel to the death, sanctioned by the Premier of the Abyss," she declared. "Name your second."