Bob exchanged glances with his crew, absorbing the weight of what they'd walked into. "Yeah. Sounds like a real paradise."
The boy smirked and flipped the coin one last time. "Enjoy your stay. Just don't get caught on the wrong side of things."
Bob watched him walk away before calling out, "Hey, kid. Got a name?"
The boy paused, glanced back over his shoulder, and smirked. "What, you gonna start being friendly now?"
Bob shrugged. "Could happen."
"Name's Finn," the boy said, slipping the coin into his pocket. "Try not to forget it."
Bob smirked as Finn disappeared into the crowd. "Kid's gonna own this town someday."
Bob's stomach growled, a sharp contrast to the grim reality around them. He scowled at himself. Meat first. Problems later.
The crew found a restaurant tucked between market stalls, a modest but busy spot with open seating and the scent of grilled meat hanging in the air. It wasn't luxury, but in a world like this, it might as well have been five-star dining.
Bob dropped into a seat, exhaling. "Alright. Someone order me the biggest thing on the menu."
A waiter, barely older than a teenager, hesitated before approaching. "Uh, we have grilled Nightmare Boar… and roasted Nightmare Cow."
Though both were fully cleansed inside a safe zone before being served, it was common knowledge that most customers still avoided eating Nightmare meat. No matter how safe it was, the thought of consuming something that had once mutated in the Fog left a bad taste in people's mouths.
"Perfect. Bring both. Extra portions."
To Bob, food was food. Whether it used to be a Nightmare or not didn't matter, if it filled his stomach, that was good enough.
As they waited for their food, Bob's crew observed the city from the restaurant, now seeing it from a different perspective. Across the street, certain people were escorted forcefully through the streets, while others looked away when cages were rolled through the markets, carrying people who weren't just prisoners, they were products.
A line of chained humans was marched toward a heavily guarded section of the market. Bruised, exhausted, and barely conscious, they moved in silence. No one in the crowd stopped to watch. No outrage. No concern. Just another transaction in a city where slavery had become routine.
"That looks like the Hooks' work," Sly muttered. "Can't say for sure, but they're not exactly subtle."
"They don't have to," Iris said bitterly. "This place allows it."
Bob clenched his fists. "We should—"
"We can't," Gabe cut in. "Not yet."
Bob exhaled slowly, forcing himself to move on, but the sight lingered. He had always had a soft spot for kids and the elderly, maybe even parents, if they were good ones, because he never had any of that himself. It wasn't something he talked about, but it was there, buried under all the fighting and reckless decisions. He hadn't helped that old man back in the safe zone just for the hell of it; he'd done it because he couldn't ignore him. The same reason he had helped the Archivists, why he had agreed to find Iris's parents. The kid Mira, too.
Seeing those caged humans, it made his stomach turn in a way even the worst battles didn't.
From their table at the restaurant, something outside caught their attention. A commotion near one of the side alleys, a group of young teens, barely more than kids, were arguing with a pair of heavily armed men.
Sly's eyes narrowed. "Could be the Gloves. Fits the look... and they don't seem like the negotiating type."
"They're bounty hunters," Iris said, narrowing her eyes. "This isn't a bounty. This is a kidnapping. Look!"
A teenage girl was being dragged by the bounty hunters, her wrists bound as she thrashed against their grip. Her friends rushed in to stop them, but the mercenaries shoved them back with brutal efficiency.
One of the armed men sneered as he tightened his grip. "You Orphans are a headache. Not even blood-related—so why bother saving her? The Hooks pay extra for an Elf Glint."
The fact that she was an Elf Glint made her valuable—and not in a way that ever ended well once the Hooks got involved.
"Please!" one of the Orphans begged. "You can't take her! We'll pay! We'll do anything!"
One of the Gloves sneered. "Not your call, kid. You think you can just steal from the wrong people and walk away? The Hooks paid us, and they want her. And trust me, they have very... specific buyers in mind."
The girl's struggling intensified, her eyes flashing with desperation, but the bounty hunters tightened their hold. One of the younger Orphans pulled a knife and lunged. The bounty hunter barely blinked, grabbing the kid by the wrist and twisting with brutal efficiency. The sound of bones snapping made Bob's stomach turn.
The young thief screamed in pain as he was thrown aside. "Idiots," the hunter muttered. "You just made this harder."
The Orphans were desperate but outmatched. They weren't here to win. They were just trying to prevent more of their own from being taken.
One of them triggered a makeshift trap, a pile of debris crashed down from above, scattering the Gloves. The Orphans seized their chance, grabbing their injured friend and bolting into the alleys. But they had no time to save the girl.
"Run! Now!"
But the Gloves weren't amateurs. They recovered quickly, securing their prize and letting the others flee. The girl screamed as she was pulled into the shadows, the heavy iron doors of a transport wagon slamming shut behind her.
Bob clenched his fists, his entire body tense. But he didn't move. This wasn't his fight. Not yet.
-----
The Pink Fog swirled thick around the outskirts of the City of Graves, blanketing the ruins in an eerie, shifting mist. Inside the dense haze, a small group moved in absolute silence… The Orphans, creeping through the broken streets, their eyes locked on their prize.
She was close. Their sister. Their friend. Stolen from them.
The girl, an Elf Glint, had been transported to the slavers, The Hooks' holding site, a fortified outpost deep within the Pink Fog, just beyond the city's perimeter. Inside, Glint captives awaited their fates, each one already priced for the Black Market's most twisted customers. The Orphans knew that if they waited too long, she'd be gone, sold like an object, never to be seen again.
Tonight, that wasn't going to happen.
With hearts pounding, they spread out, setting their ambush. The Orphans, fifteen in total, had made a quick plan the moment they learned about the scheduled exchange. Each of them had transformed into their Glint forms, enhancing their speed, strength, and senses for the assault. Among them, some had taken on Shadow Striders, perfect for weaving through the fog unseen; others had become Ferals, boosting their agility and raw strength; while a few took on Gale Runners, able to burst through obstacles with high-speed strikes. Their plan was simple: hit fast, hit hard, get her out before the Hooks even knew what happened.
But the Hooks had been waiting for them.
As soon as the Orphans struck, the battle erupted in the fog. Steel clashed, bodies slammed against debris, and the air filled with the sounds of desperate fighting. The Hooks, armed and experienced, countered their assault, forcing them back almost instantly. Unlike the Orphans, they weren't just a ragtag group—they were seasoned traffickers, trained in subduing and breaking Glints.
One of the Hooks, his skin lined with cracks of glowing red, took a step forward and swung a molten fist, striking a Feral and sending him flying into a crumbling wall. A Lava Brute—his body was resistant to physical attacks, and his strikes burned hot. Another Hook member, his form flickering like a mirage, moved impossibly fast, a Blink Stepper, striking before vanishing into the mist, reappearing behind an Orphan and slamming him into the ground.
"You little rats really thought you could just waltz in here?" the Blink Stepper sneered, dodging a strike from a Gale Runner before slamming the Orphan into the ground. "You're out of your league."
"We're not here to fight you," one of the Orphans, a Shadow Strider, growled as he twisted out of another's grip, his form flickering in and out of the mist. "We just want her back."
A Hook with a jagged scar across his cheek chuckled darkly. "Oh, we know. That's why we're ready for you."
The Hooks weren't just restraining the girl, they were controlling the entire fight. They pushed the Orphans into a corner, forcing them to waste energy while the traffickers held their ground. The Orphans had speed, they had skill, but the Hooks had dominance. These men were slavers, trained to capture, trained to break, and efficient at both. Every move the Orphans made was countered with brutal precision. The Hooks fought with purpose, this was business, and she was the cargo.
Stepping from the fog like specters, the bounty hunters appeared, just as the Hooks had planned. The Gloves weren't just hired guns; they were professionals, trained to subdue, capture, and eliminate with lethal precision. Their job was simple: make sure this rescue never succeeded.
What the Hooks and Gloves didn't know was that Finn had tipped off Bob's crew about the exchange. By the time they arrived, the bounty hunters were already preparing to move against the Orphans—confident, focused, and completely unaware they were being watched.
Sly muttered, "These kids again. They really don't know how to quit."
Bob cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. "Lucky for them, neither do we."
"Gabe, Iris—help the kids!" Bob shouted, already moving. "Sly, we take the Gloves!"
And just like that, the battlefield shifted. The Orphans weren't alone anymore. Bob's presence turned the tide from a desperate escape to an all-out war. He didn't need a plan, just a direction.
Gabe took to the air, his massive wings cutting through the mist, while Iris charged into the fray, her aura disrupting the Hooks' formation. The Orphans felt the momentum shift—their struggle had become a real fight, one they had a chance to win.
Bob met the first bounty hunter head-on, his Fog Gauntlet slamming into a reinforced armguard. Sparks flashed as the impact sent both of them staggering back. The Gloves fought like seasoned Glint hunters, disciplined, efficient, and far stronger than the average fighter.
One of them, an earth Golem, planted himself in Bob's way, his body resembling hardened stone as he absorbed the next blow and countered with a devastating punch that sent Bob sliding back. Another, a Shade Dancer, flickered forward, warping short distances in the mist, striking out at Sly before vanishing again.
The fight turned into a chaotic dance of blows and counters. Bob couldn't simply brute-force his way through, each hit needed to be timed, his Fog Gauntlet shifting to a Fog Club mid-fight, countering the Bastion's defenses. Sly used the mist to his advantage, outmaneuvering the Shade Dancer and slicing a deep wound across his side before vanishing into the fog again.
Meanwhile, Gabe rained down destruction from above, knocking Hooks off their feet as Iris pushed through their defenses, forcing them into chaos. The Orphans, emboldened, fought with renewed aggression, their numbers suddenly enough to match The Hooks.
Then, in the middle of the chaos, the cage door was ripped open.
The Elf Glint girl stumbled forward, her eyes filled with disbelief. She was free.
The fight wasn't over, but the battle had shifted. The Hooks and The Gloves weren't winning anymore. They were losing. Badly.
One by one, they retreated, some dragging wounded allies, others vanishing into the mist.
They weren't wiped out, not entirely, but their hold over this operation had been shattered. Tonight, they had been beaten.
The Orphans regrouped in the ruins, the rescued girl sitting quietly among them, still processing what had happened. They had won her freedom —for now.
Gabe watched the city loom in the distance. "They're not just going to let this go."
One of the Orphans, a boy with dirt-streaked skin and defiant eyes, smirked. "They'll have to catch us first."
Bob cracked his knuckles, glancing back at the city. "Where's the fun in that?"
The sun rose over the City of Graves, its shadows stretching long over the ruins.
By morning, word had spread. Bob's crew had interfered. They had broken the careful balance of power inside the City of Graves. The Hooks had been weakened. The Gloves had been embarrassed. And the Orphans? They had just proven they weren't helpless.
But it came at a cost.
In this city, there were rules, spoken and unspoken. And one of those rules was simple: Don't disrupt business.
Dante Graves had been watching. He wouldn't ignore this.
It seemed the fight wasn't over.