The last time Yosen stood in rain without cover, Tomzius told him it would wash the pain away.
And for this moment, it did.
Until the rooftop door slammed open, and a figure stepped out, joining him by the ledge.
"Commissioner," Yosen said. "You're late."
Commissioner Jol Maxine tugged at the buttons of his coat. The fabric strained. He stared ahead, at the city beneath them.
"I watch this city bleed every day," he said. "And my officers keep it from dying. You won't get better timing than this."
Yosen studied him. The hum beneath his voice hinted at agreement. The Londro Federali had done its job. Without them, the absence of Agents would've torn the city apart.
"You've done well," he said. "The city owes you."
"It has to." Maxine reached into his coat, pulled out a holo-drive, arms halfway out to hand it over, then froze. "I just had to tell a wife of thirty years she's a widow now. At least tell me what happened to Mr. Rone. For her sake."
Yosen took the holo-drive, saying nothing. He tapped the device. A hologram flared to life. Mr. Rone's face appeared, as youthful as ever.
"Is this everything?"
"There was more? You know, you ought to say thank you sometimes."
"Thank you, Commissioner."
Maxine scoffed and walked away. The rooftop door slammed shut behind him, its echo drowned by the rain.
Yosen tapped his ear. "My Agents. New data has been sent. We were right. Someone's replaced Mr. Rone. You must find this new Raxten supplier. The lives of Londro City depends on it."
❂ ❂ ❂
Freedom had a walk. A look of confidence when met with vulnerability. Or an arrogance when kissed by ego.
Barzo saw one of it from the dark blue Model 25 Driveacle. Windows tinted, eyes fixed on the city of Londro. One man caught his attention, cuffed by a Federali Officer as a crowd shouted around him. And in that moment, Barzo wondered.
Was he truly ready?
Ready to face the Vexo Wielders, for this city?
He turned back to Vidiax, straightening his black tie, and listened as she briefed them on their first mission.
"I know you expected more for your first day," she said, eyes narrowed. "But collecting intel is how we ensure success. Mr. Rone was our best asset. Without a Raxten supplier, tracking the Relion Lord is nearly impossible. And without that, the Vexo Wielders continue unchecked. We do this part right—find Vard Paxon, end him—and Tophora becomes safer. For years. Maybe decades. Until they replace him."
"Vard Paxon…" Barzo repeated, slower this time. "He's the one who ordered my father's death, isn't he?"
Vidiax's eyes squinted. She didn't answer immediately. She saw more than just his need for answers. She felt his desperation for revenge.
"It's important you understand that—"
"This mission is still part of training," Barzo said with a sigh. "Yeah I haven't forgotten. It's obvious you still think we're not ready."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Vidiax inhaled. "We're not doing this here. You have a complaint, take it up with Leader Sift."
She looked away. Barzo gave her a bitter glance. Volena tapped his shoulder. Her silent stare made him flinch.
"Okay…" he said. "I'm sorry."
Vidiax watched him. Quiet, but seeing. The Driveacle halted. They had arrived.
"Do well on this mission," she said. "And I'll accept your apology."
The streets of Londro saw Barzo for the first time. He should've kept walking. But there was a man on the floor, soaked by the rain.
And it caught Barzo's eye.
Was this the reality for people in Londro?
"Barzo!" Volena called.
He gulped, then followed them into the building.
It was a grey door Vidiax had knocked on. It creaked open, revealing a woman with long red hair. Her lips matched the colour.
"Hello, Mrs. Rone," Vidiax said. She wore a skirt for this disguise. "I'm Oria Vain, Londro News. I emailed you a few days ago."
Mrs. Rone paused. Her eyes lingered on Barzo and Volena, both dressed in black trousers and white shirts.
"These are my interns," Vidiax explained.
Mrs. Rone gave a soft nod. The lines on her face were heavy, still shaded with faint makeup. She had been crying, the crumpled tissue in her hand made that clear. At last, she opened the door wider, and they stepped in.
Barzo scanned the walls. The paintings were snapshots of a life far removed from his own. Mr. Rone had a taste for style. Orange was his favorite color, it framed every piece of furniture. And the view of the city, when Barzo caught it from a new angle, it seemed more beautiful than the last.
"May I use the restroom?" He asked.
Mrs. Rone stared for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"Down the hall," she said.
Barzo strode down a vast hallway, almost like walking into another dimension. A glance over his shoulder, Vidiax and Volena kept Mrs. Rone occupied. She was fully distracted. Now was his chance.
The floor creaked, too loud for the stillness around him. Barzo slipped into an office. Mr. Rone's life split before him. One wall white. One black. Both lined with books that fed a hunger. An obsession masked as curiosity. The kind that made a man dangerous. The room mirrored a life unreconciled. White for the intern Barzo pretended to be. Black for the executioner he became.
The Agent of Death.
His eyes swept across the room, searching. There had to be a clue, a whisper of where the newest Raxten supplier was. His gaze landed on the desk. A mess of documents scattered across. It seemed Mrs. Rone had been searching for answers too. Answers about who her husband truly was.
"D.P.," Barzo whispered. "Which one stands out?"
"The letters from Vrokin Bank may provide some valuable insights."
Barzo's eyes caught the name. Stamped neatly on a worn envelope. He leaned, fingers lifting the letter from the pile, eyes scanning its contents. His brows rose.
Was this it?
Volena and Vidiax spotted Barzo again. He gave Mrs. Rone a smirk as she patted at her wet eyes. None of this was easy for her. He sat down, pulling his notes in front of him, slipping into the role of the intern he was meant to be.
Vidiax reached out, gently laying a hand over hers. "I understand how difficult this may be. But with your help, we can understand what happened to him."
Mrs. Rone pulled her hand away, her gaze steady and cold. "You people have harassed us with your headlines and lies for years."
Vidiax stiffened. "I'm sorry? But you—"
"You're only here because I can't stop you." Mrs. Rone's eyes blinked slowly, memories flickering behind them. "I told him once… that our beautiful life was the cost of imagination."
The interns exchanged a glance, a silent understanding of the tension.
"He asked me, 'His imagination or mine?' And walked away." Her lips trembled. "I couldn't answer. That's when I knew."
She paused, her voice steadying. "He never lied about what he did. Or who he was. I lied for him."
The air got colder, as though Mr. Rone's ghost had descended, judging the moment itself.
"I have a good idea what happened to him." A deep breath from Mrs. Rone. "So from now on… leave me be."
The Agents stood. Once the door shut behind them, the hallway felt smaller.
"I hope you have something, Vieldem," Vidiax said.
Barzo nodded faintly, reaching into his pocket and handing her the envelope.
Vidiax took it, opened it. "Apology accepted."
She and Barzo smirked at each other.
Was this victory?
❂ ❂ ❂
Fortune yawned as he and Bayla stood before a manufacturing factory.
Its red paint had long been stained by time.
Steam vents on the roof hissed no more. Only silence, and the faint sounds of dust settling.
"Alright," Bayla said, putting away her holo-device. "Looks like this is the last of Mr. Rone's factories."
"Do we have to?" Fortune asked.
"Yes, Fortune, we do."
Their footsteps echoed. The farther they walked, the less light followed. Fortune flicked on his torch.
"Still afraid of the dark?" Bayla teased, the torch lit only half her face, just enough to see her smirk.
"Haha, so funny," Fortune muttered.
Bayla chuckled. Tall pipes lined the walls like ancient towers. In a short turn, Fortune found a door.
"There it is," he said. "Let's get this over with."
They stepped forward slowly, Waypnaries drawn. Breaths low. Whispers counted down from three.
CLANK!
The door flung open, splitting the quiet with a metallic shriek. Bayla exhaled at the sight. It was empty.
"Great, it's gone," she said. "They moved it all."
❂ ❂ ❂
Yosen had forgotten how long it had been since he last drank tea. The cup rose to his lips, but he paused.
For what, he wasn't sure, only that waiting felt right.
Then the first sip, a quiet sigh of refreshment. He placed the cup down, and the café's voices returned, no longer muted by thought. Across from him, an old woman smirked. Yosen gave a subtle wave. Her cheeks flushed red. He chuckled to himself.
"Leader Sift," Bayla said. "We've completed our objective."
He leaned back, fingers lifting to his ear.
"Agent Bayla. What's the report?"
"We've checked all the factories. None of them contain an armory room. It's been moved to another location."
Yosen's jaw tightened.
"I think we found where," Vidiax cut in. "Well, Vieldem found it. Sending it over now."
His holo-device beeped. Yosen opened the file, eyes scanning the screen.
He scoffed. "Financial records show Mr. Rone transferred all his funds to a single account before his last meeting. A location not found in his public records. 'G Manufacturing.'"
"That's on Vine Street," Bayla said. "We're thirty minutes out."
"An hour for us," Volena added.
"Very well," Yosen said.
His head tilted slightly as he watched the crowd of Londro citizens rushing in every direction, excited voices rising under the newly dry sky.
"Enter only once you're all together. I'll join you shortly."
He cut the comms and stood. His cape swept the concrete behind him as he stepped into an alleyway. With the flick of his hand, metal curved and hardened, forming a board beneath his feet, hovering.
"Operation Guide. Show me the way to Vine Street."
❂ ❂ ❂
The Lyriax roared above the treetops, scattering leaves like feathers in a storm.
The doors slid open mid-air.
Jodium stepped out first, Naydian to his right, and Vard Paxon at the center, his visor gleaming with the factory's rusted reflection. He tilted his head slightly, then turned. They followed. The Lyriax cloaked as they touched down, vanishing above them.
"My lord," Jodium said. "It's straight ahead."
He took the lead. Their footsteps were quiet…yet somehow echoed. They walked no more than ten minutes before a massive door loomed before them, its metal corroded and choked by age.
"Behind here," Jodium added, his voice more warning than statement.
Vard Paxon gave no reply. Only a gesture.
The door groaned, screaming as it opened. Lights flickered to life. He stared into the hollow beyond.
The Armory Room.
Lava flowed through pipes that curled into the center, converging at two massive, circular arm-holes suspended above the molten core. This was where Mr. Rone had forged every Vexon weapon. And now… it belonged to the Relion Lord.
Vard Paxon stepped forward, his fingers brushing the edges of the arm-holes.
"Prepare the ceremony," he said.
The Vexons moved at once, carrying a green, glowing bone, Traxa Steel. It was the size of a full-grown person, and it took five of them to manage the task. A material of destruction, gathered in reverent silence. And then, they threw it into the molten lava.
Vard Paxon raised his arms.
Without a word, the Vexons closed in. His upper armor peeled away under their hands, piece by piece, until only his chest remained. A red pillow was brought forward. He laid his visor onto it gently. The curve of his face still unseen, hidden behind flowing curls.
Jodium and Naydian stood before him, silent, hands behind their backs. The orange glow of lava lit their faces, flickering like firelight on stone. Vard Paxon placed both arms into the sockets. A hiss roared. The Traxa screamed. Pipes trembled. Chains twisted.
The forging had begun.
Sword blasters tapped in unison, the ritual.
The Vexons chanted, voices rising in a dark hymn.
Smoke thickened as molten lava fused with metal. Then, one final strike. A deafening clang shattered the air, forcing Jodium and Naydian to their knees. Sweat glistened on Vard Paxon's chest as he turned.
The weapons were born.
And the heat sneered through his breath.
The green hue of the Traxa Steel no longer present.
He approached. Light caught in his gaze, pink pupils shimmering like cursed stars. The eyes of Raxtens.
"The Guidax Vension begins."
The Vexons brought forth the creations. The first, a curved blade. Vard Paxon extended his hand. A Vexon offered a Raxten. It crackled across Paxon's skin, but he didn't flinch. He embedded it into the blade. Lightning surged. The metal screamed as power filled its core.
Next, the gauntlets. He did the same. Forged in Raxten soul. When it was done, he faced Jodium and Naydian, still knelt at his feet.
"The blood of our homes spills in the name of survival. The fall of Tophora is victory. And the capture of the Expansionals… an oath."
He paused. "The shadows have touched your weapons. As have I."
Sword blasters tapped again. Naydian's arm stretched out. Vard Paxon raised the curved blade, hovering it over him.
"I accept it, my lord," Naydian said.
The blade dropped into his grasp.
"ARGHH!"
Electricity bolted through his veins. He dropped to both knees, trembling, but he held it.
No reaction from Paxon. Only a step forward to Jodium.
He nodded, firm. His hands slid into the gauntlets, and the fire gripped him, searing up his arms. He gritted his teeth. But stayed silent.
Then, Vard Paxon smirked.
"You are now my elite… Retaliacs."
They rose. Vard Paxon's gaze lifted to the ceiling above.
"Let's give our guests… a warm welcome."
❂ ❂ ❂
The Agents arrived at the open gate of G Manufacturing. Their Driveacle veered off silently.
Barzo scanned both sides of the road.
"Where are the others?" Volena asked.
"Not late like you guys," Fortune said, emerging from across the street.
Bayla waved, following close behind. But her eyes turned to Vidiax, and the smile faded.
"What is it?" Vidiax asked.
Bayla walked to the entrance and raised her hand. The space ahead rippled, fading, reforming in waves like water.
"Invisibility cloak," she said. "It was here when we arrived."
Vidiax's jaw tightened. "Ready your Waypnaries."
Weapons unsheathed with a hiss, the sound of battle answering the call. With a breath, they entered. The factory sung the lullabies of birds. Objects scattered across the haunted floor.
"Keep your eyes open," Vidiax warned.
She scanned even the slightest movement of wind, this was no time for error. The mastery of combat collected through the years had to be ready for what was coming.
Her head tilted. "Hold positions."
The concrete ground cracked, slow at first, stretching toward her like a shadow returning to its body after escape. As it grew larger, it grew faster. It stopped just before her boots. She knelt, touching the wound carved into the planet. Then her eyes locked onto the factory, more cracks emerging.
This wasn't a quake. "Get cove—"
The factory erupted, swallowed by the ground. Dust slammed into their faces. Hands flew up, the Marble Agents steadied themselves, eyes scanning through the smoke. A shadow emerged as the winds shifted.
VardPaxon.
His armor reassembled across his frame, piece by piece.
Vidiax's pulse spiked. She stared at the rookies. This was too soon. "Vieldem. Renix. Stay behind us for this."
"What?" Barzo hissed. "I don't need supervision—"
"This is not a game, Vieldem. You are not ready to go against a Relion Lord."
Barzo frowned, his grip tightened around Vone, lips pressed tight. He had become an Agent. A protector. Now, when it mattered most, he was expected to choke.
"No," he said. "He's right there…. He's right there."
Barzo rose, levitating as Vone met the shy sunlight. His muscles tensed, breath slowed, eyes locked on the heart of Vard Paxon. Then, he flew as fast as a rocket.
"Barzo!" Vidiax shouted.
But he was already charging, straight at Paxon, who smirked at his approach. The Relion Lord crossed his arms, white sparkles gathered across his visor. A tilt of the head, and the sky ruptured. A crack of reality shattered through Barzo's ears, followed by a blinding blue thunderstorm bursting from his visor.
Barzo barely gasped before it struck.
Vidiax yanked him aside just in time. They hit cover like the others. The storm tore through everything, a servant of Vard Paxon's hateful nature, driven by a will to destroy. And even when it faded, the echo still screamed.
Smoke simmered. The air felt hot, sweat beading down Barzo's face as Vidiax met his wide eyes. She gave a nod. He returned it. In this moment, silence said more than words could.
She rose from cover, stepping into the open. Bayla and Fortune joined her at the center, weapons drawn, movements calm but ready.
"Hey," Volena said. "You okay?"
Barzo gulped, the words stuck in his throat.
The power of the Relion Lord had shaken him, deeper than expected. As the rain returned, his fists clenched. Calm became command.
Vard Paxon watched the trio charge. Vidiax with her dual blades, Fortune with his spear, Bayla wielding her hammer. All activating StrengthMode. With a single press to the ground, energy surged beneath him, and a forcefield threw them away. Still, the Agents pushed forward with purpose. Until it became a dance written by death herself. They struck in turn, blow after blow, but none of it landed.
But soon, the fatigue was settling in. The battle became a matter of survival than skill. But their mistake was letting Vard Paxon see it. Their slowing movements gave them away. And with speed that felt like teleportation, he slipped between their defenses, striking at their weakest points.
Vidiax's chest felt crushed as his punch slammed into her, sending her crashing. She gasped, blood spilling from her mouth, vision blurring for two seconds.
Two seconds too long.
Fortune was next. His eyes scattered over the battlefield, trying to track Vard Paxon, only to see a blur, impossible to pinpoint. Then, a hand snatched the back of his neck. His face slammed into the wall, thrown away like a rag doll.
Bayla screamed, heart pounding at the sight of it.
The rookies couldn't believe their eyes. Barzo breathed hard, watching Vidiax struggle to rise.
"Get up… please… get up," he whispered, eyes shifting to Fortune.
"We have to help them," Volena said. "Barzo… we have to."
He looked at her, then down at Vone. Long enough to hear it whisper. To fight back. To protect his peers.
And so he stood up, brows bending in anger.
It was time….