Shiro stood over Vanlek Omaric's lifeless body.
The drug lord's blood spread across the marble floor, painting a cruel, red art.
Shiro didn't flinch. He stared down coldly, breathing steady.
"I'm done being ignored," he muttered. "I'll become the strongest assassin this world has ever seen."
From Vanlek's ruined weapon stash, Shiro picked up a sleek black gun, its barrel still hot from the fight.
"I'll call you... Velvet Viper."
He turned, wiped the blood off his face with the drug lord's own silk robe, and walked to the bedroom.
With quiet confidence, he laid down on the bed of the man he just killed.
His mind was calm. His path was clear.
And sleep took him, like a shadow falling on a city about to burn.
While Shiro rested on a dead man's bed, Neo and Hlanya moved through the crowded, rusted streets of Sector 9. Neon lights flickered overhead, and steam hissed from every corner like the city itself was alive and angry.
Neo winced with every step—still hurting from the last mission—but he kept going.
"There," he said, pointing. "That's the post center. Let's talk to the old man."
They stepped inside. The building was old, filled with dusty screens and cracked monitors. At the desk sat an old man with cloudy eyes but sharp ears. Neo handed him a sealed envelope.
"This needs to reach the border," Neo said.
The old man gave a slow nod, placed the message inside a tube, and sent it off through a mechanical chute with a loud hiss.
"Train leaves in 10. Sector line 4," the man said without looking up.
Neo and Hlanya nodded and left. They caught the train—metal, loud, packed with tired eyes—and rode it in silence. When they reached the border station, they made sure the message had arrived.
Mission complete.
Later that night, they walked through the quieter part of the city. Neon turned to dull street lamps. Stray dogs barked. And eventually, they reached Hlanya's apartment—small but clean, full of small plants and old books.
"Was that your first mission?" Hlanya asked as she locked the door behind them.
Neo nodded.
"Yeah."
"Lucky. Easy one, just like mine was."
Neo chuckled, dropping onto the couch with a groan.
"If this is easy, I'd hate to see hard."
They both laughed.
They fell asleep fast. Neo on the couch, Hlanya in her room. The city outside never stopped buzzing.
The city was still yawning when sunlight cracked through the broken blinds of Hlanya's apartment. Dust floated in the golden glow. For a moment, it felt peaceful — like the storm had passed.
Neo sat up, groaning, stretching stiff limbs.
"Still sore," he muttered, checking the half-healed bruises on his side.
From the kitchen, Hlanya poured tea.
"Rest while you can. These quiet mornings don't last in our world."
She was right.
Before Neo could reply, a sharp knock hit the door. Not friendly. Not casual. Just three cold taps.
Hlanya opened it cautiously. A man in black stood there—face hidden behind a scarf, eyes like dying stars. He handed over an envelope, a strange device, and a sheath holding a Von Pelt sword—slim, sharp, ancient.
Then he disappeared.
Neo picked up the device, its screen already glowing red. The sword shimmered on the floor beside him like it had tasted blood already.
"What the hell is this?" Neo asked.
The device rang.
Hlanya answered.
A familiar voice slipped through the static, cool as ice and twice as sharp.
"You two are my accomplices now," said Shiro.
Neo blinked, then grabbed the device.
"Shiro?! My glorious friend! You're alive?"
A pause.
"I'm more than alive," Shiro replied, cold and distant. "I'm becoming something else."
Neo grinned.
"This mission… it's with you?"
"Yes. But there's a fourth," Shiro said.
Silence.
Neo frowned.
"Who?"
The line crackled, like the air itself didn't want the answer to escape.