I sit alone in my cell. The walls echo with silence.
"Lunchtime," a guard mutters, sliding a tray of mush into my room.
I don't even look.
But then, the guard pulls off his helmet… revealing a smirk I know all too well.
"Tell me, Ren…"
Zane's voice echoed through the dim chamber like a low, haunting requiem. He stood beyond the cold steel bars, cloaked in black, his violet eyes glowing with an eerie intensity that cut through the dark like sharpened glass.
"…When all is said and done—what will you have?"
I could barely lift my head, let alone answer.
Zane continued, voice calm, yet venom laced every word. "A few thousand dead corpses at your disposal? Blood on your hands? Voices from hell whispering reminders of what you are… what you've become? You can't ignore them forever. They'll touch the very essence of your soul until there's nothing left but guilt."
I grit my teeth, the chains biting into my wrists as I clenched my fists. My body was weak, bruised, starved—but my spirit, while flickering, hadn't gone out.
"You chose this path," Zane said coldly. "You pretend you're fighting for something pure—but you don't even know what that something is. Change? Love? Happiness? Purpose? You can't feel any of it, not truly... not when you've already given up on feeling."
He paused.
"…But maybe it was never your choice to begin with. Maybe fate decided for you."
His words hit harder than any punch.
I tried to stand. My legs trembled. My vision blurred.
"Zane… listen to me—!"
CRASH!
The tray in my hand flew across the cell and shattered against the wall.
"Evander, you bastard!" I shouted, voice cracking. "I did abandon you… but I tried to find you! I searched for you for years! Please—listen to me, brother!"
Zane stormed toward the bars, gripping them tight, purple sparks dancing along his fingertips.
"You think I wouldn't find you eventually?" he growled. "You and your idiotic friends went crawling to the very man who started it all!"
I staggered back, my eyes wide in disbelief.
"…What are you talking about?"
Zane narrowed his eyes.
"Quinn Rome."
"…No. No, that can't be."
"Quinn was Kenji's mentor when he was young. That's why he trusted him. That's why you trusted him. It's pathetic… mistaking loyalty for naivety."
His voice carried no warmth. Not even hatred—just bitter resolve.
I looked at him—not the boy I once knew, but the man standing before me.
What had I done to him…?
"You're not my brother," I whispered, voice hollow.
Zane tilted his head, a smirk ghosting across his face.
"Oh, but I am. And whether you like it or not… you'll learn to respect me when I take over the Fallen City."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving me alone in silence.
Alone with the weight of my sins.
I collapsed to my knees, the cold stone floor embracing me like a grave.
Elsewhere — The Hideout
"Four months," Akito muttered, throwing a beer bottle across the room. "Four goddamn months! He's probably dead!"
Jun didn't respond, only kept punching the training dummy harder—flesh meeting canvas with sharp, angry thuds.
"And that Quinn bastard…" Jun growled. "There's no way the guards knew we were headed to his place unless he planned it."
"It's my fault," Kenji said for what felt like the hundredth time. He sat on a bench, eyes hollow. "I trusted him. Because he used to be my mentor…"
He trailed off into silence, the guilt choking every word.
"I've mapped out every possible way to break Ren out… but there's just no opening. It's impossible."
No one replied.
The room was heavy with frustration and helplessness—until the door creaked open.
A breeze swept in. Cold. Unfamiliar.
We all turned, hands instinctively near our weapons.
A man stepped through, pulling down his hood.
"I mean no harm," he said, raising both hands slowly. "My name is Haruto Whitlock. I heard about Ren's capture."
We eyed him with suspicion.
"Your point?" Kenji asked flatly.
"Ren was a friend of mine… once," Haruto said. "Before he joined your group. I want to help him. That prison… it's tightening the borders around my business. But more than that—I owe him."
Akito stepped forward, getting right in his face.
"How can we trust you?"
Haruto didn't flinch.
"Because I want the same thing you do—Ren's freedom. And I have someone who can help."
"Let me guess," Jun said, peeling off his gloves. "Another shady friend?"
"Liam Yearwood," Haruto nodded. "A Lunaris guard. He's stationed near the central border. But he doesn't serve them—he works there because the Rebellion forced his hand. His family would've starved otherwise."
Kenji raised a brow, lighting a cigar.
"You smoke?" Akito and Jun said in unison.
Kenji exhaled slowly.
"I do now."
The tension faded just slightly, but one question still lingered.
"What about Quinn?" Kenji asked, his tone sharp.
"Quinn's lost everything," Haruto replied coldly. "The people down here hate him. He's no longer a player. Just a coward hiding behind suits and ghosts."
Akito sat down heavily, dragging his fingers through his hair.
"There's a war looming over us, and we don't even have a leader…"
"You're wrong."
Haruto stepped aside—and a tall figure entered.
A man dressed in a crisp suit, his brown hair brushing the bridge of his nose, eyes sharp as daggers.
"Rander," Akito breathed.
"So they chose you," Jun muttered. "Can't say I'm disappointed."
"I can't lead this city alone," Rander said. "But with you—the Fallen Liberators—I believe we can build something strong. Together."
He laid a blueprint on the table.
"Our first priority is taking out Lunaris cargo. That serum is a threat to all of us. But more importantly—we rescue Ren… and take down Aragon Hunter."
Later That Night – Beyond the Border
The rooftops were slick with dew as we moved under the veil of moonlight.
"Window's open," Haruto whispered. "Go."
We slipped inside, hearts pounding. Each second could be our last.
Down below—chains.
And there he was.
Ren.
Pale, gaunt, hair to his shoulders. Barely able to lift his head.
"That's… impossible…" he muttered, voice hoarse. "I thought… you weren't coming…"
Akito stepped forward, eyes hard.
"We're getting you out of here."
Jun grabbed the chains, muscles straining. Haruto and Kenji stood watch by the door.
"…How the hell did you get in?" Ren asked, blinking in disbelief.
"What do you mean? It was easy," Kenji smirked.
"…Yeah. Sure. Easy," Akito muttered, eyes narrowing. "Because open windows are just lying around in a place like this…"
That's when we felt it.
A chill swept through the room.
We were not alone.
A voice from the shadows.
"How nice of you to drop by. Though honestly… I would've left the door open. Depends on your preference."
We all turned.
A figure stepped into the light.
Brown hair slicked back. Cigar between his fingers. Eyes—piercing crimson.
A smirk curled his lips.
Aragon Hunter.