Inside the bar, the air was thick with tension. Blitz stood still, his fingers playing with the dice like a predator tapping his claws. Across from him, twenty men loomed—silent, coiled, waiting for a spark.
He could've struck first. But Blitz wasn't just looking to win—he was guarding Cole and the others. So he waited.
Then it came. One man burst forward, aiming a wild punch at Blitz's head.
Big mistake.
The dice's magic still lingered. Blitz swayed back like a shadow, then launched a brutal uppercut that cracked the man's jaw and sent him flying backwards, spine snapping like a whip.
Two more rushed in, fists blazing.
Blitz ducked low, their punches cutting air. As he rose, he flung the dice across the floor.
4–5
Not perfect. But more than enough.
A third man lunged, trying to grab him. Blitz caught him by the back of the neck and slammed his head through the edge of a nearby table. Wood splintered. Teeth flew.
The first two turned back, but Blitz met them head-on, grabbed both by the collar, and smashed their skulls together with a sickening crack. They dropped like ragdolls.
Four down in under ten seconds.
The rest froze, eyes wide, doubt flickering in their minds.
Blitz grinned, blood on his knuckles. "What's wrong? The ladies got shy?"
No one moved.
He let out a breath, relaxed his stance. "Fine… I'll go first."
He charged. As he ran, the dice reappeared in his palm—no one saw how—and he flung them again across the bar floor.
2–3
"Shit," he muttered.
His legs snapped under him like twigs. He hit the floor hard, chin first, blood painting the ground.
The men swarmed like wolves.
Boots stomped. Fists rained. Blitz vanished beneath a hailstorm of violence. Blood sprayed with every blow—he didn't move.
Then, from under the pile, something rolled free.
The dice.
5–5
The game was over. With a growl from the earth itself, Blitz's hand shot out and caught a man's foot mid-stomp. He twisted—bones shattered. A scream erupted.
And Blitz rose. No longer bloody. No longer broken. As if the wounds had never existed.
The men backed up in disbelief—but it was too late. The man whose leg he'd shattered got a brutal punch in the gut, doubling over, just in time to take a knee straight to the face. He went flying. Another came from behind—Blitz blocked his punch with an elbow, then knocked him out with a backhand that could've dropped a horse.
Then the real fight began. It was no longer a brawl—it was a dance.
Blitz moved through them like wind through wheat. Duck. Weave. Elbow. Spin. Every movement precise. Every strike final. One by one, the men fell. Some groaned, some didn't get back up at all. The floor of the bar became a graveyard of broken ribs and shattered pride.
He didn't roar. He didn't brag. He just moved—silent, efficient, unstoppable.
Near the bar, Nina and Katie stood frozen, wide-eyed, as the fight drew to an end. The room around them was wrecked—tables overturned, glass shattered, men groaning on the floor. Yet neither girl could bring themselves to speak. The words were there, stuck behind dry lips, buried under shock and adrenaline.
"Damn…" Katie finally whispered, breaking the silence like glass underfoot.
Nina's voice came out hoarse. "Who is he, actually?"
"I don't know," Katie replied, eyes still locked on Blitz. "He comes here so often, but… he never talks about himself. I didn't know he could do that."
"That guy's the real deal."
They both turned at the sound of the voice and found Cole leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a cocky smirk on his face. Nina gasped and ran to him, tears springing from her eyes before she could even think to stop them.
"Cole!" she sobbed, throwing her arms around him. "I thought you died!"
Katie stepped closer, concern replacing awe. "Here, let me take a look at your—"
She stopped mid-sentence. Wounds. That's what she meant to say. But when her eyes scanned him, her face changed. He looked… spotless. Like he had just stepped out of a shower. His shirt was clean, his face unbruised. No blood. No scratches.
"Um…" she stammered, confused. "Cole… how come you're... fine?"
Nina pulled away slightly, inspecting him for herself.
"She has a point," she said, blinking. "That man almost killed you."
Cole frowned, clearly offended. "The hell he did! I was just waiting for him to get close so I could poke his eyes out. But you had to play hero…"
"I just… I wanted to save you…"
"I just wanted to save you," Cole repeated mockingly. "Don't. That's my job." He jabbed a thumb against his chest with pride.
Nina raised an eyebrow. "Your job?"
"Yeah. You're my partner. I have to take care of you. Not the other way around."
Nina opened her mouth, but no words came out. She just stared at him, stunned. Katie chuckled softly at the exchange.
Cole turned his eyes back toward the center of the room. "Looks like it's about to finish."
The girls followed his gaze. Blitz was standing tall, breathing steady as the final attacker staggered to his feet—only to be lifted clean off the ground and hurled over a table where, somehow, one man had managed to keep sleeping through the chaos. The airborne body landed with a crash, spilling the man's untouched pint. The sleeper jolted awake, blinked at the carnage around him, and began to weep.
"The fuck is wrong with you people?!" he shouted through tears. "Can't a man just rot in peace?!"
Blitz stood above him, expression unreadable. Behind him, the large man's wife darted out of the bar in a panic, heels clacking against the floor.
"What's your problem, old man?" Cole said, sliding into the table seat like he owned it. The man wasn't that old—forties maybe, with a bit of a belly and a terrible striped shirt that looked like it hadn't seen a wash in days.
"Had a bad day?" Cole pressed.
"Why is a kid here?" the man asked, eyes wide. Then his jaw dropped. "Alex? Is that you? Am I dreaming? Am I dead? Don't tell me you got here with me too… Oh dear God—my little boy!"
He broke into uncontrollable sobs.
"Alex?" Cole echoed, confused. "Do I really look like I have such a boring name?"
He didn't get to finish the thought—Nina was there in a flash, smacking him upside the head.
The man kept crying, lost in his delusion, muttering about sins and punishments. Blitz sat down beside them, folding his arms.
"Listen," he said gently, "sorry we woke you up. You seem pretty wasted. We can take you home, if you want."
"No!" the man shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "My wife… she can't see me like this. Maybe I deserve it. For being such a loser…"
"Hey man, come on," Blitz said. "We all have bad days. You lost your job or something?"
"Worse. My… son."
The table went silent. Even the room felt quieter.
"I went to pick him up from school last week… and he never came out. I looked everywhere…" He dropped his head onto the table and wept openly. "The cops found nothing. No trace. I keep wondering if I did something wrong. He was such a good kid… never gave us trouble. This has to be my fault… what if I—what if I did something wrong?"
"Chill, old man," Cole said, matter-of-factly. "We'll find him."
"What?" The man froze, blinking away tears.
"You didn't do anything wrong," Cole added, looking him in the eyes. "This city's just worse than you think."
"Cole," Nina whispered, leaning close. "You know we can't."
"What do you mean? What do you think you did when you signed those papers?"
The others blinked in confusion.
"And Felix?" Nina asked, voice low.
"He'll be fine with it. Trust me."
The man studied Cole like he was trying to see through him. "You sure you're just a kid?"
"Yep."
"Well…" The man gave a bitter smile. "You said it yourself. About the city. Tell me, what can two kids even do?"
"We've got this guy," Cole said, pointing at Blitz. "You saw what he did."
Everyone glanced at the trail of unconscious bodies scattered across the floor.
"Yo, when did I sign up for this?" Blitz grumbled.
"You woke him up, asshole. Now it's on you." Cole smirked. "You're lucky we're willing to help you."
"You little fuckin'—"
"If you do it," Katie cut in, "your debt is cleared."
Blitz paused. His eyes lit up like slot machines.
"…I'm in."
The man's frown finally cracked. A cautious smile began to grow. "Will you really do this?"
They all nodded.
"Alright then," Blitz said, leaning forward. "You said he was last seen at school? Write down everything. His name, the school, favorite fuckin' color—all of it."
Katie handed him a pen and a napkin. The man started writing, hand trembling slightly. When he finished, he passed it to Blitz. The young man scanned it, then frowned.
"Wait a second… I went to this school."
They all glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.
"Dude," Cole said, "you went to school?"
Laughter burst from the group, light and genuine. Even the man chuckled through his tears. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn't alone in this.
And for just a moment, none of them knew what kind of nightmare this new mission would turn out to be.
The Agency headquarters buzzed with its usual controlled chaos. As always, the building pulsed like a living organism—agents in black suits strode briskly through the corridors, voices echoed in mission rooms, and glowing monitors flickered with encrypted data streams. This was no ordinary workplace.
From the outside, it looked like a cathedral—an immense, ancient structure nestled in the mountains just beyond the city. The stone walls towered with gothic pride, stained-glass windows casting colored light onto the front steps. The public knew it only as a church, open and welcoming in its front-facing halls. But the closed doors? Those were reserved for the inner workings of one of the most powerful organizations on Earth.
And beneath the surface, hidden deep underground, was where the real Agency lived.
A maze of corridors. Vaults. Labs. Interrogation rooms. Weapon caches. Medical bays. War rooms. Places that no regular visitor would ever see. Down there, the air was colder. The walls thicker. The stakes higher. Powers didn't just exist—they were studied, weaponized, and barely contained.
But not everyone wanted to spend their day below ground.
It was a rare sunny day, and Felix had chosen to escape the dim corridors and enjoy some air in the Agency's private garden, tucked behind the monolithic structure. He sat on a bench, suit jacket unbuttoned, tie loosened. The sun warmed his face as he stared up through the trees, holding a phone loosely to his ear.
"Blitz? Like the card game?" he asked, confusion creasing his brow. "How the hell do you even know this guy?"
He listened, and the answer made him flinch.
"You did what?! Nina too?!"
He leaned forward, one elbow on his knee, pressing his palm to his forehead.
"Listen to me. This is a bad idea. What if those guys come back?"
He paused again, eyes narrowing.
"Yeah, I'm sure you can beat them all," he said with forced sarcasm. "Real impressive."
Another pause.
"I don't care how strong that guy is, you're not—what? Beat me?!" His voice cracked into disbelief. "The hell he can!"
Felix nearly threw the phone. Instead, he stood up, pacing the paved garden path like a lion in a cage. Then, he stopped. Took a long breath. Let it out slowly.
"Alright. It's just a missing kid, right? That's it? No surprises?"
A small smile touched his lips.
"Okay. You can do it. Just... send me your location. In case something goes wrong. Understand? Understan—"
He looked at the screen. Blinked.
Cole had hung up the moment he heard "okay."
Felix stared at the phone for a second longer before tucking it into his pocket and muttering, "He's gonna get me killed one day…"
Kima approached only after the conversation ended, careful not to interrupt. She moved quietly, like someone stepping into a room where something delicate had just broken.
"Damn," she said, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets. "Who were you talking to? Sounded tense."
Felix let out a breath, eyes still on the screen. "Cole. He and Nina just got their first mission."
"What?" Her voice sharpened.
"They're looking for a missing kid." He waved it off like it was nothing. "It's fine. They'll probably run around for an hour, realize how hard it is, and quit."
Kima tilted her head. "How did that even happen?"
"Long story. I'll tell you later. Have something to do." He stepped off the path, ready to leave.
"Me too," she said.
Felix paused. "What?"
"Well…" she hesitated, choosing her words with care. "House Florian is coming over."
He blinked. Once. Then again.
"What? And that's how I find out?" His voice rose as he turned fully to face her. "Nobody thought to tell me about this little detail?"
"Guess they don't like you that much," she said with a teasing smile.
"You think, huh?" he replied, sarcasm thick.
He tried—really tried—not to ask the next question. But the words pushed their way out.
"Is… he coming too?"
Kima's smiled. "Yep."
Felix dropped back onto the bench like the weight of the entire day had just tripled.
"Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse."
"Why do you say that?" she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.
"It's one of the Great Houses, Kima. They don't do courtesy visits. If they're coming, something's bad. Really bad."
"Well then," she said, turning toward the building, "I'd better get back. Preparations and all."
Felix raised his hand in mock salute. "Good luck. You'll need it."
She disappeared through the doors, leaving him alone with his thoughts—though not for long.
"The day's barely begun, and you're already struggling?" said a voice behind him, calm and measured like a clock ticking in an empty room.
Felix turned his head.
Standing there was an old man in a long, perfectly tailored coat. His cane, more a symbol than a necessity, tapped softly against the ground. His presence was impossible to ignore—refined, authoritative, and cold like polished steel.
"Maybe," Felix said. "Has the time come?"
"Indeed," the old man replied with a nod. "Let's go. The meeting is about to begin. The Council is ready."
Felix left out a big smile before he rose from the bench.