While Henry and Elara's conversation still lingered in the dawn's quiet, the others scattered into Vanterra's arteries, each searching for something they hadn't yet named.
Emilia Bruma walked beside Jack with her hands folded into the pockets of her long coat. Emilia had—like always—her moody presence. Jack didn't complain; he had grown used to her presence, her strange duality of warmth and distance.
They passed through the open markets, their neon signs flickering advertisements in dozens of languages. The air smelled of spice, fried food, and ozone. Above, the holo-ads looped endlessly:Vote Ronnie Vayndrin—Protector of Neoterra.
Jack (muttering): "Ronnie's face is everywhere now. Looks like he's more popular than ever."
Emilia glanced at one of the ads and tilted her head.
Emilia (coolly): "Power attracts shadows. Fame paints a target brighter than neon."
Jack raised a brow. He didn't always understand her metaphors, but he understood the weight behind them.
Jack: "You think someone's after him?"
Emilia didn't answer. Instead, her gaze drifted across the crowd. Something stirred in her chest—an unease she hadn't felt for a while now. Her eyes swept past the merchants, the children with glowing candy sticks, and the corporate suits rushing between hover-trams. It wasn't the people themselves. It was the weight of a stare—hidden, sharp, lingering too long.
Jack noticed her slowing.
Jack: "What is it?"
Emilia: "… We're being watched."
Jack's shoulders tightened.
Jack: "Soul Reapers?"
Emilia shook her head.
Emilia (quietly): "No. Different. Quieter."
The mist around her swirled subtly, her instinctive defense forming without thought. She caught only flickers—a figure in the reflection of a shop window, a shadow that seemed to move against the crowd's flow. But each time she turned fully, nothing remained.
Jack (half-joking, half-serious): "Are you sure it's not just paranoia? You do radiate creepy mist everywhere."
Emilia smirked faintly, but her eyes didn't soften.
Emilia: "You know, someone once said that mist hides what people don't want to see. I've learned to trust it."
They moved on, but the tension remained. The watcher—whoever it was—kept their distance, always out of reach.
Elsewhere, Lenny and Ichiro found themselves walking along the neon riverfront, the water below reflecting the skyline in fractured, shifting colors. Lenny leaned against the railing, eyes shining as he admired the city's energy. He had always loved places like this—loud, alive, buzzing with possibilities.
Lenny: "Crazy, huh? A year ago, we were fighting for our lives against vampires. Now we're standing here in Vanterra."
Ichiro didn't reply at first. His gaze wasn't on the skyline but far away, across oceans, back to the Kagetsu Kingdom.
Lenny noticed his silence.
Lenny: "Oi, you, okay?"
Ichiro's hands gripped the railing tighter. His reflection in the water was sharp—too sharp for someone his age.
Ichiro: "I keep thinking about home. My father. My uncle, the shogun. And… my sisters."
Lenny tilted his head, listening carefully. Ichiro rarely spoke of his family unless pressed.
Ichiro: "The Taketa Clan. People call us legendary. Warriors who carry generations of pride. I was raised to believe our name meant strength, discipline, and honor." His jaw clenched. "But what good is all of that when I couldn't even stop villains from almost killing us? Or when Henry had to save me?"
Lenny: "Ichiro…"
Ichiro: "The people of Kagetsu see me and instantly think that I will be as great as my ancestors, but the truth is that those are big boots to fill."
Ichiro's golden-brown eyes hardened.
Ichiro: "I should be with them. Protecting my sisters. Standing beside my clan. Not wandering foreign streets chasing after shadows."
Lenny leaned forward, elbows on the rail.
Lenny: "You know… I don't think your family would want you to give up on yourself like that."
Ichiro glanced at him.
Lenny: "You're here because Henry needs you. Because we need you. That doesn't make you less of a Taketa—it makes you more. You're learning, fighting, and getting stronger. You'll bring all of that back home one day."
Ichiro looked back at the water, the neon reflections twisting in its currents. Slowly, his fists loosened.
Ichiro (quietly): "Maybe you're right. I just… I don't want to fail them. Not like I failed myself before."
Lenny grinned.
Lenny: "Trust me, bro. You're not failing. You're leveling up."
Ichiro snorted despite himself. The heavy weight in his chest eased, just a little.
Back in the markets, Emilia and Jack kept moving through the crowds, but the feeling of being watched never faded. Emilia's mist swirled subtly at her heels, tracing air currents, mapping movement invisible to normal eyes.
She stopped suddenly near a row of holo-posters, her eyes narrowing.
Jack: "What is it now?"
Emilia (whispering): "They're still here. Whoever it is… they want us to know they're here."
Before Jack could respond, a figure detached from the crowd and vanished into an alleyway—just fast enough to catch Emilia's trained eye.
Her lips curled into a dangerous smile.
Emilia (to Jack): "Finally."
Jack growled low, his eyes flashing with draconic sparks.
Jack: "Let's hunt."
Meanwhile, Lenny and Ichiro's walk was interrupted when a sudden siren wailed from above. A patrol drone zipped past, its spotlight flashing across the riverfront. On its screen appeared the headline everyone was already whispering about:
"Ronnie Vayndrin—Neoterra's Favorite for President."
Lenny whistled.
Lenny: "Guess our guy's moving up in the world."
Ichiro frowned.
Ichiro: "Moving up… means more enemies. You know that, right?"
Lenny shrugged, but his smile didn't fade.
Lenny: "Yeah. But that just means we'll have to be stronger too."
Ichiro stared at the neon skyline again; his thoughts were caught between the weight of family and the uncertain road ahead. For the first time in days, however, he felt a flicker of resolve.
The night in Vanterra deepened, its lights shining brighter against the creeping shadows. Each member of Henry's group wandered the city with their own burdens, their own thoughts—but the underworld had not forgotten them.
Unseen eyes watched from alleys and rooftops, whispers passing between lips that never showed their faces.
And as Emilia and Jack followed their mysterious watcher into the maze of Vanterra's backstreets, the city itself seemed to hold its breath.