They both stared at the picture.
Uhra groaned theatrically.
"Great, so someone wants us dead."
Ruigh looked at him, questioning.
"Do you have a guess?"
Uhra grinned and slumped against the wall.
"No, not a clue, my friend. But that's not important now. We need to get to the base where the body is being kept."
Ruigh nodded in agreement.
"There we can also find out if others have been attacked."
Uhra nodded and bent down to one of the defeated opponents.
"They're definitely not supernatural," he growled.
He tucked the body of an attacker with no arms under his arm.
"Let's go then."
The base was a misshapen building in a dark alley.
Ruigh and Uhra passed through the inconspicuous door in the wall and entered a long hallway.
It was silent and smelled of metal.
A few killers came toward them. They nodded respectfully to Uhra.
The body under his arm didn't seem to surprise them.
But one of them eyed Ruigh suspiciously.
"Who are you?" he asked, grimly.
Before Ruigh could answer, Uhra stepped in front of him.
"This is no one," he said firmly and continued walking, pushing his way through the killers and pulling Ruigh with him.
"They don't know me," Ruigh stated dryly.
Uhra rolled his eyes.
"How could they? Your missions aren't exactly broadcast. Besides, the boss himself said you're not supposed to be recognized."
Ruigh snorted.
"The boss I haven't even met yet?" he asked, amused.
Uhra nodded seriously.
"Exactly him. And believe me—you don't want to meet him. That man has no sense of humor."
He let go of Ruigh and disappeared through a door ahead of them, leaving the baffled Ruigh behind.
Quietly, Ruigh followed him.
The room was large. Only a single light burned on the ceiling, illuminating the corpse on a stretcher. Behind it stood a man in a black suit with a cane.
"You have gathered here on the leader's command. He has chosen all of you because of your strength and your experience. This is a declaration of war on the Killer League. From whom—unknown."
His voice was cold. His gaze swept critically over those assembled, then returned to the corpse.
"This killer was a Special Killer," he said. "Special Killers are our elite unit. They shouldn't be so easy to defeat. That suggests our enemy is on the level of a Special Killer—or even above."
He contorted his face. "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are unfortunately too busy to help us out here."
"Who's that?" Ruigh whispered.
Uhra grinned.
"That's the leader's right-hand man—or rather, a messenger. Not very important."
The man in the suit had heard and gave Uhra a grim look.
"A good evening to you too, Uhra. I don't know why the leader chose you of all people for this."
Uhra laughed loudly.
"Let's bury this old rivalry and focus on what's essential. How about that, Aren?"
Aren contorted his face, but turned back to the corpse.
"So be it," he murmured. Then he continued:
"All killers present are part of the investigation team. Your task is to find and eliminate the enemy. It will be counted as a group mission. Any questions?"
A killer spoke up.
"Why are there so many of us?"
Aren's face twisted in a sneer.
"Because we can't gauge the enemy's strength. It could be one—or a thousand."
Ruigh leaned against the wall, his gaze resting on Aren.
The leader's right hand.
The king, as many called him.
A lump rose in his throat. A quiet premonition crept up on him.
He was going to get to know the leader.
He was sure of it.
A killer spoke up.
"Do we have any clues?" he asked excitedly.
Aren shook his head in annoyance.
"No, we don't—"
He didn't get any further. Uhra cut him off.
"Yes, we do."
He carelessly let the corpse under his arm fall to the floor.
"He and I." Uhra gestured casually to Ruigh. "We were attacked."
A murmur ran through the room.
Uhra smiled with satisfaction and continued:
"And there were eight attackers. Four for each of us."
Aren rolled his eyes.
"What kind of clue is that supposed to be? You were probably just in the territory of some supernatural criminal who recognized you as a killer."
Uhra chuckled softly.
"Well, your words would make sense—if it weren't for these two points."
He paused, took a breath, letting the tension build.
"Our attackers weren't supernaturals. But normal humans."
The killers stared at each other in disbelief.
Aren shook his head.
"That's impossible. What normal humans would face off against a special killer?"
Some killers nodded in agreement.
"Impossible!" one growled.
"They'd be dead before their next breath!" another shouted, laughing.
Uhra rolled his eyes.
"I'm not saying they didn't have powers."
Aren glared at him.
"So they were supernaturals after all," he growled.
Uhra's face grew serious.
"Exactly not. They were normal. But… changed. Greater strength. Greater speed."
Aren raised his eyebrows.
"So what you're saying is, a supernatural being kidnapped a few normies and gave them supernatural powers?"
Uhra nodded in agreement.
"Exactly. I even brought you a trophy."
He flicked the attacker's body toward Aren, who stopped it with his foot.
Aren's gaze swept over the body. Then his eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.
"That's enough, Uhra. That has nothing to do with the mission."
He wiped the sweat from his forehead. His hand trembled slightly.
Uhra didn't notice.
He just grinned and clapped his hands.
"Well... we have a second piece of evidence."
Aren clenched his jaw.
A creeping panic rose inside him as thoughts stormed through his head.
This bastard was ruining everything. Because of him, he might never see her again.
He balled his fists.
Despair choked him.
He had to stand firm.
For her.
For their future.
Uhra continued:
"This one—" He gestured to the body. "—had a picture of me and..."
Aren cut him off sharply.
"Enough."
His voice was shaky, but he forced himself to sound strong.
No weakness.
No failure.
"Focus on your work," he said, his voice firmer. "Don't disappoint the king."
Then he stomped out of the room, leaving the others behind.