The sky was still painted in the last strokes of night, soft hues of deep blue bleeding into the warm orange of approaching dawn. The city was quiet. Empty streets whispered nothing but wind. No footsteps. No voices. Just the low hum of silence that only comes right before the world wakes up.
Leo stepped out of the alley with Zama close behind. He stretched once, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of everything that had happened inside that dreamlike world. His gaze lifted toward the fading stars.
"…Ahh," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I need sleep."
Zama, still barefoot and shirtless, stepped beside him. His golden eyes were calm now, no longer burning with conflict.
"My Lord," he said softly. "You should rest. Just tell me… where is your home? I'll take you there myself."
But Leo shook his head. "Nah. It's okay now."
He looked up again. The sky was blooming, the sun beginning to rise behind the edges of Rustalia.
"Our journey's just beginning," he muttered with a tired smile. "Let's make it memorable."
Without waiting for a response, Leo's body lifted off the ground—light as wind. The air shimmered with mana as he rose into the sky, the dawn light catching the edge of his black cloak.
He hovered there and glanced down. "You flying or what?"
Zama gave a small smile. "Yes, my Lord."
From his back, two large black wings unfolded—fierce and imposing, the scales along their edges catching the light like obsidian blades. They flapped once, kicking up dust and wind.
Leo whistled. "Nice. Good-looking wings."
Then he smirked.
"But hey… don't open those things when you're wearing a shirt, alright? You'll rip it apart like some kind of brute."
Zama chuckled quietly. "As you wish."
Leo gave a half-laugh, then looked him up and down. "Though… come to think of it, you don't have a shirt right now, do you?"
"No, my Lord."
Leo turned, floating backward through the sky now. "Yeah, yeah. I'll buy you one. Something badass. Now come on—keep up."
They flew high, higher than the rooftops, over the capital walls, their silhouettes slipping through the pale morning mist. Below them, Rustalia looked like a sleeping beast—stone buildings stacked tightly, roads curling like veins, glowing gently under the breath of the rising sun.
Leo pulled his wolf mask back over his face, hiding the weariness in his eyes. He slipped his right hand into his pocket, feeling the cold metal coin he'd taken earlier still there.
His voice was quiet now—lower, distant. "Zama…"
Zama flew beside him, looking over. "Yes?"
"…I've got a lot of work to do. Too much. I can't explain everything right now, but…"
He paused, the wind brushing against his mask as the light broke over the horizon.
"For now, just call me Hades."
Zama smiled as the wind rippled through his dark wings. "As you wish, my Lord."
The morning sun peeked over the rooftops of Rustalia, casting long golden shadows across the quiet streets. Feren hummed as she twisted the key in the café door, pushing it open with a creak. She stretched, glanced up at the sky—
—and nearly dropped her keys.
From the far end of the street came Leo—no, Hades—walking like he'd just crawled out of a battlefield. His mask hung crookedly on his face, one hand lazily shoved into his pocket. Beside him walked a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark skin, long white hair, and the kind of stoic expression that made people change sidewalks.
Feren's eyes went wide.
"Hey! Hades!" she called. "Where the hell were you all night?!"
Leo stopped just in front of the café and exhaled deeply. "Didn't sleep. Lot happened."
Feren crossed her arms, her gaze shifting to the giant next to him. "And who's this? One of those silent, brooding mercenary types? Or… did you pick him up from a cursed statue museum?"
Leo chuckled. "This is Zama. He's my friend. He's gonna stay in my room for a while."
Zama gave a slight bow, his wings now gone—vanished before they entered town, thanks to Leo's warning.
Feren's eyes drifted down Zama's bare chest and immediately snapped back up. "Wait. Where's his shirt?"
Leo blinked. "Oh. Right… I forgot. I'll give him one."
Her face turned red. "You brought a half-naked colossus into my café first thing in the morning?! Seriously?!"
Before Leo could respond, she grabbed the nearest chair and hurled it at him.
"GET UPSTAIRS!"
Leo barely ducked in time, dragging Zama along. "Let's go before she throws the whole café!"
Upstairs, Zama glanced around curiously. "My lord—"
"Hades," Leo corrected, slipping his mask off and tossing it on the bed.
"But—"
"Hades."
Zama hesitated, then gave a small nod. "As you wish, Hades. But… what about her? Should I kill her?"
Leo stared at him for a long second, then pushed him into the room. "Don't say things like that! She's just a little… fiery."
Zama tilted his head. "She threw a chair at you."
"That's how she says good morning."
Just as Leo was about to shut the door, Feren's voice echoed from downstairs.
"HEY! If you're listening—and I know you are—get your lazy butt to the coliseum and register for the tournament! Go early, or you'll be standing in line all day! And give your 'stone giant friend' a shirt, for heaven's sake!"
Leo sighed. "Alright, alright! Thanks, Feren! First, let me find him a shirt so he doesn't get us arrested!"
He shut the door, turned to Zama, and muttered, "You might be an ancient warrior or whatever—but for now, let's make sure you don't cause a fashion crisis."
Zama blinked. "I still don't understand why my body is a problem."
Leo opened the drawer. "Let's start with shirts, then work our way up to manners."