The towering gates of the Graves Safe Zone stood ahead, reinforced with thick steel plating. Guards patrolled the walls, their eyes scanning the approaching group. Bob cracked his knuckles as he pulled up in their worn-down pickup truck, their mobile safe zone, scarred more by miles of travel than any recent fight.
Iris and Sly had already gone ahead, escorting the rescued Orphans into the city. Bob pulled up to the gate in their pickup truck, with Gabe seated beside him.
Bob let out a sigh, stretching his arms. "Finally, a proper place to rest. More importantly, food!"
A figure stepped forward, blocking the path.
Dante Graves.
His coat barely moved in the wind, but there was weight behind his presence. He wasn't some random guard standing on orders, he was the man who ran this city. And right now, he looked like he wanted to strangle someone. His gray eyes locked onto Bob, cold and unreadable.
"You're not coming in."
Bob blinked. "Why?"
Dante's jaw tightened. "Because you wrecked my business."
Bob scratched his head. "Wait… do you own a butcher shop?"
Gabe sighed from the passenger seat, arms crossed as he glanced at Bob. "Bob, he's talking about the bounty system. The slavers. The underground network you tore apart. I think that's Dante Graves the leader of Graves City."
"Oh, that." Bob shrugged. "Yeah, they sucked."
Dante's fingers curled into a fist. "You have no idea what you've done. The bounty system wasn't just about hunting people—it was control. And now, it's chaos."
Bob wasn't listening. He was staring over Dante's shoulder at a food stall inside the gate, his stomach growling.
Dante exhaled sharply. He had worked for months to maintain order in this city, making sure the right people held power, that the streets functioned his way. Then Bob smashed through it all in one day like it was nothing. And now, he stood here like it didn't matter.
"You think this place runs on kindness?" Dante's voice was low, controlled. "I should kill you right here."
From the safe zone gates, Iris stepped forward, arms crossed. "So that's how you run your city? Killing people at the gates?"
That was when Dante finally saw her. Iris.
His focus shattered.
For a moment, everything else faded.
She was still the same Iris, but not the one he remembered. Her presence was different. Sharper.
Dante had been a fan from the very beginning, watching Iris rise from a talented hopeful to a star. He had even arranged sponsorship deals for her, ensuring she had the right connections. Back then, he admired her from a distance, impressed by her fire and the way she commanded attention.
Then, the scandal struck. While he was abroad studying, the media tore her apart, branding her a disgrace. By the time he returned, she and her entire family, had disappeared. He had tried to bury the worst of the rumors, suppressing the false claims about her being a drug pusher, but it hadn't mattered. The damage was done, and she was gone.
And now, she was standing here. Alive. Strong.
His fingers twitched. He almost said her name again. Almost let that moment slip through.
Instead, she spoke first.
"…Dante,"
It was a simple acknowledgment, but it carried weight. A flicker of recognition, no warmth, no smile.
Once, there might've been something between them. Not spoken. Not defined. Just a quiet current beneath shared glances and unspoken words, too fleeting to name, but impossible to ignore. Before everything changed. Before she rose through the ranks, and he left for his studies abroad.
Maybe, in another version of their lives, that something could've become more. But time had moved on and so had she.
And standing there, looking at her now, he felt it, that whatever once lingered between them… it wasn't there anymore.
That stung more than he expected.
Then his gaze snapped back to Bob. The irritation tripled.
Why was she standing up for this idiot?
He pushed the thought away. He had a point to prove.
"Fine." Dante rolled his shoulders, his tone shifting. "If you want in, you prove your worth."
Bob yawned. "That sounds like work."
Dante ignored him. He stepped forward, toward the edge of the fog. The Pink mist curled around his boots, wrapping up his arms. He let it settle—ten seconds was all he needed.
Dante's Glint form, Blood Revenant, activated the moment the Pink Fog clung to his skin. His veins darkened, glowing faintly with a deep red hue as if his blood itself was shifting. His breath steadied, muscles hardening as raw strength coursed through him. His entire body felt lighter, faster, deadlier. The longer he fought, the stronger he became, a relentless force that refused to slow down.
It was instantaneous. Controlled. Not like Bob's wild bursts of strength, this was refined, precise. This was why he thought he was better.
Iris's eyes widened slightly, her usual composure slipping for just a moment. "That fast..." she muttered under her breath.
Beside Bob, Gabe straightened in his seat, watching with newfound interest. "So he's like Bob? Almost no delay?" he mused, rubbing his chin.
This wasn't normal. Most Glint users needed time. But Dante had stepped into the fog, and his transformation had snapped into place like second nature.
Dante stepped up onto a broken bench on the side of the road near the entrance, a ruined bus stop waiting shed with no roof. From his elevated position, he let his transformed presence settle over the crowd, ensuring everyone could see the shift in power. His aura flickered red as he locked eyes with Bob. "Still want in?"
Bob tilted his head. "You got taller."
Dante's smirk twitched. "That's not the point."
The crowd murmured as the full weight of Dante's transformation took hold. His presence was different now, heavier, more dangerous. Even the guards began to shift uneasily, sensing the change in the air.
Dante took a step forward. "You fight. You win. You—"
Bob pushed open the truck door, stepping out as the Pink Fog swirled around him. The moment his boots hit the ground, his Glint form, Goliath, surged to life. His body expanded, muscles thickening, and his skin took on a faint metallic sheen. The air around him grew heavy with raw power.
Without hesitation, he strode toward Dante, who was still standing on the ruined bus stop bench, soaking in the attention. Bob stopped in front of him, sizing him up for a moment.
Then, as casually as lifting a grocery bag, he grabbed the entire bench—Dante included—and hoisted it off the ground.
The movement was so casual, so effortless, that Dante barely reacted until the bench was off the ground, tilting slightly in Bob's grip.
People stared. Silence. Then a snicker. Then more laughter.
Dante barely caught himself before falling backward. His feet hit the ground, stumbling slightly before he righted himself. His jaw clenched as his red aura flared violently.
The crowd was watching him, not in awe, but in amusement.
Iris rubbed her temples. Gabe shook his head. "Here we go again."
Bob looked at Dante, still holding the bench. "You looked really serious up there. Thought I'd give you a better view."
Dante ground his teeth. "Put. Me. Down."
Bob shrugged and dropped the entire bench with a loud thud. Dante barely held his footing. Somewhere in the crowd, someone coughed to hide a laugh.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Dante was the one who had trained, who built the city's control, who held the power.
And yet.
Bob stretched his arms, glancing at the sky. "The sun's been up for a while now. Feels like breakfast time."
The tension lingered, Dante's red aura still flickering, stronger than before, but Bob had already lost interest.
Gabe leaned against the truck, shaking his head. "You just can't help yourself, huh?"
Bob shrugged. "What? He was standing on a bench. It looked weird."
Dante clenched his fists, rage burning behind his eyes. This was supposed to be a display of power. Instead, Bob had turned it into a joke.
Then, the murmurs in the crowd shifted, pulling attention away from their standoff. A procession of figures emerged from inside the gates, moving in a slow, deliberate march toward the fog. They walked in single file, their steps synchronized, as if they were being guided by an unseen force. Their clothing was mismatched, some in tattered rags, others in old worker uniforms or coats too large for their frames. Their faces were eerily vacant, eyes unfocused, mouths slightly parted but silent. There were men and women of varying ages, from young adults to middle-aged survivors, but no children. None of them spoke, not even to acknowledge those watching. Their silence was more unsettling than any chant or prayer could have been.
Dante stepped back, his glare shifting toward them. "Again?" he muttered under his breath.
Bob stepped forward, finally closing the distance to the entrance. The guards hesitated, but the looming presence of the pilgrimage forced them to shift aside, allowing him to pass.
Just as he was about to enter, the eerie procession caught his attention. He raised an eyebrow. "What's their deal?"
The guards stationed near the entrance stiffened as the procession passed, but no one stopped them. There were no shouts, no protests. Just the eerie shuffle of boots and soft whispers as more people took notice.
"The second pilgrimage," a voice said behind Bob.
He turned to see a young girl standing near the truck. Elise. Gabe had already driven it inside during Bob's earlier standoff with Dante, ensuring their mobile safe zone was secured within the city. Her arms were crossed tightly, her expression grim.
"They're going out again," she said, watching them disappear into the mist. "More than last time."
Bob frowned. "And that's bad because…?"
"They're not acting like themselves," Elise muttered. "They don't talk. They barely react to anything. Even the ones who came back, they're… off."
Dante scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he pushed past Bob. "Let them go. It's their choice."
Elise shot him a glare. "You say that now, but what happens when half the city starts following them?"
Bob squinted at her. "Wait a sec. Who are you? You've been talking to us for a minute now, but I have no idea who you are."
Elise blinked, then sighed, running a hand through her short, messy hair. "Name's Elise. I've been keeping an eye on these pilgrimages. My brother was in the last one. Never came back the same."
Dante didn't answer, though his jaw tightened slightly. He turned his attention back to Bob, but before he could say anything, another voice cut through the uneasy silence.
"They're just believers," a man called out from the crowd. "They're showing that the fog chooses who it protects."
A few others nodded, murmuring in agreement. The Fog Walkers had become more than just another cult in the city. They believed the Pink Fog was divine, a force that chose who was worthy to walk through it. By stepping into the fog in human form, they believed they were offering themselves for judgment, trusting that those who returned had been accepted.
The first pilgrimage had been small, only a handful of believers who stepped into the Pink Fog in human form, their faith unwavering. Without waiting for their transformations, their glint forms, they walked deeper, moving between the ruins and broken streets, testing the fog's supposed protection. When they returned unscathed, rumors spread quickly. No Fades attacked them, no harm came their way, and their belief that the fog chose who was worthy solidified. The city took notice.
The second pilgrimage had just begun, larger and more organized than the first. As they stepped into the fog in human form, they followed the paths of those before them, trusting that the fog would protect them as it had done before. The first pilgrimage had proven their belief, those who had walked the same path days ago had returned unharmed, untouched by any creatures. That success had emboldened them. Now, with even more followers stepping forward, their influence was spreading rapidly, drawing more to their cause with each passing day.