Gareth moved through the crowd with ease.
Then he slipped into a narrow alley—
—and vanished.
No one followed.
No one noticed.
The alley branched into others, twisting into a maze of narrow paths and broken stone. Gareth didn't hesitate. He moved with familiarity, taking turn after turn without slowing.
Until—
A dead end.
Dilapidated shanties leaned against one another, barely standing. Makeshift shelters built from scraps. People with nowhere else to go had claimed them as home.
Gareth didn't belong here.
He stood out.
Clean. Composed.
Yet—
No one looked at him.
No curiosity. No suspicion.
It was as if he didn't exist.
He walked to the last shack at the far end and knocked lightly.
The door creaked open.
An old man stood there, leaning on a staff.
No greeting.
No question.
He stepped out.
Then turned—and began walking deeper.
Gareth followed.
They moved in silence, weaving between broken paths and uneven ground until the old man stopped near a cluster of loose stone.
He tapped the ground once with his staff.
Then pushed aside a small rock.
A narrow hole revealed itself beneath.
The old man unscrewed the top of his staff.
Inside—
A metal crest.
Intricate.
A woman seated beneath a bridge.
He inserted it into the hole and held it in place.
For a few seconds—
Nothing happened.
Then—
A low shift.
Stone moved.
A section of the ground ahead lifted slightly—false bricks separating from the rest. From below, it was pushed upward.
Then it slid aside.
A hidden staircase revealed itself, descending into darkness.
Two men stood beneath it.
Hands still on the stone.
They looked up.
Saw Gareth.
And nodded.
Gareth stepped forward and began his descent.
The moment he passed them—
The two men pulled the false floor back into place.
Stone slid.
Locked.
Sealed.
Perfect.
Above, the old man removed the crest, reassembled his staff, and pushed the rock back into position.
The entrance disappeared—
as if it had never been there.
And he walked away.
Back in the Silver Moon Inn—
Nero sat on the edge of the bed.
Arms crossed.
Jacket hanging on the wooden stand.
Protector and Oblivion secured at his sides.
His belongings were laid out in front of him, neatly arranged on the floor.
Ammunition boxes.
He stared at them.
"I've got 107 rounds left for Protector… 110 for Oblivion," he muttered.
Angelo replied calmly,
"Then we count every shot from now on."
Nero lowered his gaze slightly.
"…That's not nearly enough if those creatures start showing up."
"They were never meant to kill them," Angelo corrected. "Even a heavy machine gun would only slow those things down. These—" a pause, "—are for self-defense."
Nero exhaled slowly.
"…Then what were those wolves?"
He leaned back slightly, thinking.
"Gareth called them Lightning Wolves. He talked like they were normal here."
A brief silence.
"…Could they be related to the Corrupted King's creatures?"
Angelo didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"No."
Nero dropped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"…Yeah. You're right. They didn't feel the same."
Another pause.
Angelo spoke again.
"We need an alternative. We can't rely on guns for everything."
"…A sword?" Nero said.
"Yes."
Nero let out a quiet breath.
"I've never trained with one. Only knives."
"How hard can it be?" Angelo replied.
Nero raised his hand toward the ceiling, fingers stretching lazily.
"…Or I could just use my powers."
Angelo's tone sharpened slightly.
"You shouldn't."
A beat.
"Only in emergencies. You remember what Grant said—extended use drains you."
Silence.
"…And we don't want anyone seeing it."
Nero didn't respond.
For a moment—
He remembered.
The fear in people's eyes.
Strangers.
Family.
He reached into his shirt and pulled out the locket.
Light from the window caught its surface.
His expression softened—
Just slightly.
Then it was gone.
Nero sat up.
Packed everything back into his bag.
One by one.
Clean. Efficient.
By the time he finished—
Knock.
"Coming."
He grabbed his jacket, slipped it on—hiding both weapons beneath it—and walked to the door.
He opened it slightly.
Elena stood outside.
"Your food is ready, sir. Would you like to come downstairs, or should I bring it up?"
Nero glanced past her.
The inn was busy.
Voices overlapping.
Movement everywhere.
He looked back at her.
"You should help downstairs. I'll come."
She nodded quickly and hurried off.
Nero stepped out, locked the door behind him, and made his way down.
Joe noticed him immediately.
"Only one table left," he said, pointing toward the back corner. "Sorry about that."
"It's fine," Nero replied. "Looks busy."
Joe nodded.
"Want anything specific?"
Nero shook his head.
"Anything's fine."
He walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
Quiet.
Still.
People noticed.
Whispers spread.
"Who is that…?"
"Never seen him before."
"White hair…"
"What is he wearing?"
Nero ignored it all.
He picked up the wooden cup—
Turned it slowly in his hand.
Studying it.
Simple craftsmanship.
Elena arrived shortly after, setting down his meal.
"Please don't mind them," she said gently while pouring water. "They're just curious."
Nero set the cup down.
"It doesn't bother me," he replied. "I stand out. That's expected."
Before she could respond—
"Elena!" Joe called out. "Three beers—table five!"
"I'm coming!"
She hurried off.
Nero picked up the spoon and took a bite.
…Good.
He continued eating.
Quietly.
Listening.
Watching.
Learning.
Coins exchanged hands.
Orders called out.
Patterns forming.
After a while—
Angelo spoke.
"One loaf of bread—one iron coin."
Nero nodded slightly as he drank water.
"A pint of beer—two iron."
"A bucket of milk—five," Nero added.
"A room—one copper and one iron," Angelo continued.
Nero set the cup down.
"…And you get a full day if Gareth vouches for you."
A pause.
"…He's not just some random guy."
Nero's eyes shifted slightly.
He had noticed.
A man approached the counter, placing a silver coin down.
Joe handed back change.
Eight copper.
Nine iron.
Angelo processed instantly.
"One silver equals ten copper. One copper equals ten iron."
Nero finished his meal.
"…Good. Now we know the system."
A brief pause.
"A standard meal costs about three iron."
Angelo replied,
"We should gather more information outside."
By the time Nero stood up—
The inn had emptied.
The lunch rush over.
He walked up to the counter.
"I want to explore the city," he said. "Do you have a map?"
Joe shook his head.
"No maps here."
"…Alright."
Nero turned to leave.
"Wait."
He stopped.
Joe nodded toward Elena.
"Why not let her guide you?"
Elena looked up from cleaning the tables.
Surprised.
Then—
She nodded.
"If you don't mind… I can show you around."
Nero considered it.
Then gave a small nod.
"Alright."
Elena wiped her hands.
"Give me a few minutes to finish here."
"I'll be in my room," Nero replied.
And turned—
Heading back upstairs.