The heavy iron door groaned shut behind them, sealing away the noise of the Ashen Bazaar. Inside, the foul, freezing wind was replaced by the suffocating stench of rust, unwashed bodies, and despair.
Rina's eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering light. The stall was not selling weapons or forbidden potions. The walls were lined with rusted iron cages.
From the dark corners of the room, a weak, rattling groan of pain echoed against the damp concrete. A sudden, desperate shout flared up from one of the cells, only to be instantly silenced by the heavy thud of a guard striking the iron bars.
It was a human trafficking ring.
The informant stepped forward, completely unfazed by the horrific sights and sounds around him. He walked straight toward a reinforced cage at the very back of the room. Inside sat a small, shivering child with a heavy metal collar locked tightly around their neck.
"There it is," the informant whispered. A greedy, excited smile stretched across his face as he pointed at the child. "The expensive item I told you about. That kid has a mutated mana core. A heart made of pure, raw energy. Do you have any idea how many billions the syndicates will pay for that kind of vessel?"
He turned back, fully expecting her to pull out her spatial pouch and hand over the money.
Rina looked at the child in the collar. She did not look back at the informant.
Staring at the shivering kid, she suddenly saw her own reflection. The heavy metal bars and the cold, unfeeling concrete dragged her mind violently backward. Another pained groan drifted through the stagnant air, mingling with the rattling of chains. It felt exactly like the brutal, unforgiving halls of her childhood. The helplessness. The cold. The realization that weakness down here meant death.
"I already have buyers lining up," the informant continued to blabber, completely oblivious to the sudden drop in temperature. "But I am giving you first rights."
As he kept talking, his voice began to blur. His greedy words echoed like distant white noise against the damp cavern walls, fading into meaningless static as Rina sank deep into her own dark thoughts. The cries of the prisoners and the dripping water all blended into the roaring silence in her head.
Then, the light completely vanished from her blue eyes. Her expression flatlined.
Her eyelids dropped to half-mast, heavily weighing down her gaze as the pure exhaustion of her past caught up with her. A dark, intimidating shadow seemed to fall over her features. The atmosphere in the foul room plummeted to freezing as she stared straight ahead at the cage in absolute, unimpressed silence.
She did not yell. She did not scowl.
Misinterpreting her deadpan silence for shock, the informant chuckled. He stepped directly into her personal space, slowly leaning in until his foul breath brushed her cheek.
"What is wrong, Fang?" he whispered, a mocking grin stretching across his lips. "First time in a human traffick-"
He never finished the word.
The tactical glove on Rina's left hand suddenly flared with a blinding, icy blue light. In a fraction of a second, she retrieved a hidden blade from her spatial inventory. Without a single moment of hesitation, she swung her left arm in a vicious, diagonal arc from her bottom right up to her top left.
A perfectly diagonal line of crimson appeared across the informant's neck.
His mocking grin froze. His severed head slid cleanly from his shoulders, hitting the rusted iron grates with a heavy, wet thud. A second later, gravity claimed the rest of him. His headless body collapsed to the damp concrete, painting the floor in a rapidly expanding pool of dark blood.
Rina slowly lowered her left arm. She flicked the blood from her blade, her apathetic expression completely unchanged.
"This world," she uttered under her breath.
The biting wind echoed across the high rooftops of the bazaar, violently brushing against her face. Rina stood alone on the concrete outskirts just above the massive underground market. She looked out over the sprawling skyline, feeling utterly gloomy and exhausted.
It was an unspoken rule that evil could never be completely wiped out. Even if a person was gifted with overwhelming capabilities, trying to erase all the darkness in the world was an impossible task. That was just common sense.
But to Rina, it was not.
She firmly believed she possessed the very power necessary to wipe out all unnecessary suffering. Yet, here she was. An unimpressed, nihilistic expression flooded her face as she stared down at the neon lights below.
With no one around to talk to, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
The call connected with a sudden, sharp click.
"Hey, Viktor," she voiced out into the freezing wind. Without waiting to hear his response, she immediately continued. "If I blow up the entire underworld, would the problem be solved?"
The line was completely silent for three seconds. The faint clinking of a coffee cup shifting on a desk drifted through the speaker.
"Rina, ever since you were a rookie, you have always gotten the job done clean and quiet," Viktor finally answered. He stopped for a moment before continuing. "But, yes. You can blow it up. The problem, however, will never be solved."
Upon hearing his words, Rina's irises widened slightly. A vivid memory suddenly flashed through her mind. She pictured herself years ago, sitting across from Viktor in his dimly lit office. He had looked exactly the same back then, already older and exhausted, quietly lecturing her about the mana and magic. The heavy, nihilistic shadow slowly melted away, and her rigid features finally softened. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath.
"Let's have dinner at my office tonight with Helena and Sergei," Viktor suggested casually. "I will..."
But before Rina could hear the rest of his sentence, she let her right arm drop to her side. The phone slipped away from her ear. She did not hang up. She simply let his distant voice fade into the howling gale.
The freezing wind whipped wildly across the concrete rooftop, violently tossing her hair as if the storm itself had a mind of its own. Her entire body fully relaxed. However, the tension leaving her shoulders was not a sign of peace. It was the terrifying calm of absolute acceptance.
Of course, she thought, her apathetic gaze locking onto the neon lights of the massive subterranean city miles below. I am a product of the mafia. I will forever be exactly what they made me.
"Sorry, Viktor," she uttered under her breath, the freezing air carrying her words away into the night. "That dinner will have to wait for another day."
The sprawling, corrupt market continued to pulse with life far beneath her boots, completely unaware of the shadow looming above. Rina closed her eyes. She stopped trying to fight the cold, nihilistic exhaustion in her chest and finally let it consume her completely.
"Formula construct."