Sakura's voice dropped low, sharp with unease as she scanned the shadows. "Someone's close."
Kavato froze, his breath catching as a familiar figure stepped into view. "Brother?" he whispered, disbelief and dread tangling in his throat.
Tora's voice cut through the tense air, laced with a cold awe that sent chills down their spines. "Well, the rumors weren't lying."
Sakura's eyes narrowed, a flicker of defiance in her tone. "there's more where that came from."
Before anyone could react, a sneer slithered from the darkness. "Hey, Kavato," a rough voice taunted, thick with menace. "Hand over that formula, and maybe your little friends don't end up dead." It was Toma, a lackey of Alki's son, flanked by two rogues itching for a fight, their blades glinting under the dim light.
Kiyoshi's frustration boiled over, his fists clenching. "What the hell's going on here?"
Tora's gaze flicked to the intruders, his patience razor-thin. "I'm not playing your stupid games," he snapped, his voice a low growl.
Toma bristled, fury sparking in his eyes. "Shut your mouth, you bastard, unless you wanna die right now!"
One of the rogues crumpled under the weight of Tora's stare, dropping to his knees with a whimper. "Please, my Lord—forgive me!" he stammered, his voice cracking as he clutched the dirt. "I didn't mean no disrespect—just spare me, please!"
Toma's lip curled, his stance rigid as he barked, "Get up, you idiot! Kavato's barely E-rank—he's nothing!"
But Tora didn't flinch. He stood there, towering and unyielding, his presence radiating a suffocating mana pressure that hit like a tidal wave. Kavato felt it first—crimson blood dripping from his nose. Then one rogue screamed, blood pouring from his eyes, ears, and nose as he collapsed, lifeless. Toma and his partner followed, hitting the ground hard, their bodies staining the earth red. The kneeling rogue bolted, sobbing as he fled into the night.
Tora turned to Kavato, his voice icy, cutting deeper than any blade. "Here," he said, shoving a stack of papers into Kavato's trembling hands. "Take them. As of tomorrow, you're done. Ramiya's family cuts you loose—you're no noble anymore. You've failed us."
Kavato's chest tightened, a hollow ache swallowing his fight. He clutched the papers, his voice barely a whisper, shaky with resignation. "Maybe… maybe it's better this way." Blood trickled from his nose, warm and bitter, a mark of the pressure still crushing him.
Kiyoshi wiped at his own bloody nose, concern etching his face as he stepped closer. "Who is he?"
Kavato's gaze dropped, heavy with old wounds. "That's Tora—my brother. The Blazing Sword of the Ramiya family. Firstborn son of our lord." He swallowed hard, the title tasting like ash.
Kiyoshi's frustration flared again, his voice rough. "I couldn't even use my Eye of Wisdom—his pressure locked me down. Couldn't move, couldn't think."
"What's his rank?" Kiyoshi asked weakly.
"S-rank," Kavato confirmed.
Kavato smiled. "He held S-rank two years ago."
________________________________________
Far away in Jamna…
Nestled between Elfior and Ramiya, the island of Heraki hid Jamna—a quiet place with secrets buried deep. Beneath the AMO region, an A-rank dungeon loomed, its entrance marked by four guards sprawled lifeless in the dirt, their blood long dried. The cavern, carved by some ancient, mighty hand, had been cleared six months back. Yet it stood untouched, its mysteries whispering in the dark.
Kariro kicked at a loose stone, his voice sharp with irritation. "Why do we always get the worst jobs? Even rookies could handle this."
Hosoki adjusted his many magical rings. "You're wrong, Kariro. These 'simple' jobs often hide the greatest secrets."
They moved through the dungeon with practiced ease, sidestepping traps that snapped and hissed—spikes here, a tripwire there. Kariro's lanky frame bent and twisted, his green suit flashing as he reshaped his body to slip past a pressure plate. The Warisus gang emblem on his chest caught the faint torchlight. Hosoki, broad and steady, adjusted the lens over his eye, his fingers brushing the mystical rings and necklaces draped across him. A tattoo pulsed faintly on his right palm as he traced cryptic runes on the wall.
"Found the passage yet?" Kariro asked, impatience bubbling up.
Hosoki studied ancient carvings through his enchanted lens. His tattooed palm glowed faintly. "This is it," he declared, turning a hidden wheel.
Kariro stretched his malleable body to peer over Hosoki's shoulder. "How'd the guild miss this?"
Hosoki smirked. "Few can read these texts. I'm... exceptional."
At the heart of the hall stood a towering hourglass, its sands shimmering with an unearthly glow—the legendary hourglass. Hosoki's voice dropped to a reverent hush, awe softening his usual grit. "A Minotaur guarding this? Fate's got a hell of a way of spinning stories."