Ka-nar's lungs burned as he and the Protector dashed through the dimly lit corridors of the facility. The alarms were still blaring, though more distant now, like the cries of a wounded beast echoing behind them. Red emergency lights flickered across steel walls, painting everything in pulses of blood-like glow. The silence between those pulses was suffocating, filled only with their hurried breaths and the faint metallic hum of machines that never slept.
They turned a corner, and Ka-nar almost stumbled when he saw the long stretch of corridor ahead—a gauntlet of doors, half-open rooms, and surveillance cameras that buzzed faintly as their lenses rotated.
"Stay close," the Protector whispered, his voice firm but calm, the way someone who'd done this a thousand times might sound. His dark coat swept behind him like a shadow. Even in the red glow, Ka-nar could barely make out his face. Only the faint shimmer of his aura gave away his presence—an invisible pressure in the air, subtle but unmistakable.
Ka-nar swallowed hard and nodded. "How much further?"
"Far enough."
That wasn't an answer. But Ka-nar didn't press. Not yet.
They slipped past the first few cameras unnoticed. The Protector moved like water, his movements precise, almost rehearsed. When they reached the third camera, Ka-nar felt his pulse spike as its lens tilted in their direction. Before Ka-nar could panic, the Protector raised a gloved hand, and a faint static crackled through the air. The camera's red light blinked, fizzled out, and then… nothing.
"EMP surge," the Protector murmured. "Temporary blind spot. Move."
Ka-nar forced his legs to obey, but his thoughts were spinning. Every step deeper into this facility, every glimpse of documents and secrets they'd stolen—it all pointed to something far larger than he imagined. Exoskeleton projects. Hiyoro Goto's warnings. The Neno Lens' mysterious arrival.
But one question refused to leave him.
Finally, as they ducked into a narrow passage lined with pipes, Ka-nar blurted out:
"Why? Why do you work for Sato Akira if what Hiyoro Goto said is true? That he's greedy, selfish—someone who'll use everything and everyone to get what he wants?"
The Protector didn't stop walking. His boots rang against the steel grates, steady and unshaken. For a moment, Ka-nar wondered if he'd even answer.
Then, without turning back, the man spoke.
"It doesn't matter."
Ka-nar felt irritation spark in his chest. "How can it not matter? You're risking your life. Fighting people like Satsujin. Rescuing me when you didn't have to. If Akira's just another manipulator—then why follow him?"
The Protector finally slowed. His broad shoulders cast a shadow under the red emergency lights. He turned slightly, just enough that Ka-nar could see the edge of his face—a sharp jawline, lips pressed in a firm line, eyes that gleamed with something unreadable.
"You think loyalty is simple," the Protector said. "It's not about who's right or wrong. Not always. Sometimes…" He paused, almost as if weighing whether to reveal more. "…sometimes loyalty is the only thing left to a man."
The words lingered, heavy.
Ka-nar frowned. "Loyalty to what? To Akira? Or to something else?"
The Protector didn't reply. He simply turned and kept walking.
Ka-nar clenched his fists. It was like trying to hold water in his hands—the more he tried to grasp who this man was, the more slipped away. But something about his voice, his movements, the way he had shielded Ka-nar again and again—it wasn't the blind loyalty of a mercenary. There was something personal. Something buried.
They descended another flight of stairs, the air growing colder and damper. The sound of running water echoed faintly through the pipes, mixing with the distant thrum of generators. At the bottom, they reached a blast door. Thick, iron, and sealed.
"Great," Ka-nar muttered. "Now what? We're trapped."
The Protector didn't flinch. He pressed his palm against the metal, his aura flickering faintly. Then he looked at Ka-nar. "Step back."
Before Ka-nar could ask why, the Protector's aura surged—a low, vibrating hum that made the very air quiver. With a controlled exhale, he drove his hand into the lock mechanism. Sparks exploded. The steel bent and groaned like an animal in pain, until finally, with a shriek of tearing metal, the blast door caved inward.
Ka-nar's jaw dropped. He had seen strength before, even from Satsujin's exoskeleton, but this was different. This wasn't technology—it was raw power. Controlled. Human, yet not.
The Protector glanced back at him. "Move."
Beyond the door was a tunnel—a service route, unlit and damp, stretching toward faint moonlight in the distance. Freedom.
Ka-nar's legs moved, but his mind refused to quiet. As they hurried down the tunnel, the Protector's words echoed in his head.
Sometimes loyalty is the only thing left to a man.
Who was this man really? And why did it feel like—somehow—that loyalty had less to do with Sato Akira… and more to do with Ka-nar himself?
The tunnel spat them out into the open night. The facility loomed behind them, a fortress of steel and shadows against the horizon. For the first time in hours, Ka-nar breathed fresh air. The stars stretched above, indifferent to everything that had happened below.
Ka-nar doubled over, resting his hands on his knees, panting hard. "We… we made it."
The Protector stood tall, scanning the treeline, the road, the sky—always vigilant, always ready. "For now."
Ka-nar looked up at him, frustration and gratitude tangled inside. "You keep saving me. You keep fighting for someone like Akira. And yet you say it doesn't matter." His voice broke slightly. "But it does matter. To me. Because if I can't trust the people around me, then how am I supposed to fight what's coming?"
The Protector didn't answer immediately. His silhouette was framed by the pale moonlight, unmoving. Finally, he said, quietly, "Trust is dangerous, Ka-nar. More dangerous than any exoskeleton or weapon you've seen." He turned his head just slightly. "But maybe… it's the one thing you'll need the most."
And with that, he started walking into the woods.
Ka-nar stood frozen for a moment, heart pounding, before forcing his legs to follow. The night swallowed them both, leaving behind the ruined blast door, the alarms, the secrets still buried inside the facility.
But for Ka-nar, one truth had surfaced in the chaos:
The Protector wasn't fighting for Akira. Not really.
And someday soon, Ka-nar was going to find out who he was truly loyal to.