Benedict, still reeling from the girl's sudden awakening, carefully set her down.
Robert blinked rapidly, fumbling to push his sunglasses back onto his face, trying to mask his shock with forced calm.
Without hesitation, Kara moved. She formed a crimson knife from her own blood, pressing it close to the girl's throat, her gaze unyielding.
The towering bulk of a man known as the Pursuer—Bob to the group—took a heavy step forward. He looked ready to charge, but Kara didn't shift her focus from the child.
"Don't stop me, Bob. We don't know if this thing's an Abyssal," she said, her voice sharp, almost like an order.
The air grew thick with tension. In the blink of an eye, Kara dodged as Bob slammed his head into the ground, the impact cracking the dirt beneath him.
Chains, bandages, and a heavy mouthpiece bound his massive frame, restraining whatever monstrous force he held inside. He had no weapon but his own body—yet that alone made him terrifying.
Squelch!
Blood burst from Kara's back, sickening and wet, shaping into five crimson blades that hovered in the air, all aimed directly at Bob. The group froze in silence.
Until—
"Threatening to kill a child? Not your brightest move, Atelier."
The voice came from behind Bob. Earl stood there, arms crossed, cigar smoke curling in the air.
Kara's eyes flicked toward him. His calm expression carried a hint of tension, and his dry chuckle only fueled it.
"And what would you have me do? Gamble with all our lives for the sake of one brat?" she shot back, her tone edged, tilting her head as though mocking him despite her flat expression.
A cough broke the stand-off. Xini cleared his throat, sweat sliding down his cheek. His voice wavered as he forced out words.
"W-Well… she's just a kid. And if you look closer… doesn't she match the description of the brat we're supposed to find?" He swallowed hard, his face pale.
Whoosh!
The knives cut through the air, slamming into the ground beside him. The sound rattled his bones. Shivers ran down his spine as he coughed again, trembling under Kara's glare.
Most of the group exhaled in relief. Viktoria, however, sighed in disappointment, muttering about how much fun it would have been to experiment on a sinner's corpse.
For a moment, Kara stood silent, her eyes closed, steadying her breath.
"...Fine. But the moment she does anything suspicious, her head's off. Understood?" she said, brushing past Earl. He smirked and drew another drag from his cigar.
One by one, the others followed. Bob lowered himself, letting the girl climb onto his shoulders. Beneath his restraints, the brute allowed himself a faint smile, relieved she hadn't harmed anyone.
"So, kid… mind telling us your name?" Chance asked with a welcoming smirk, flipping a coin between his fingers.
The girl perched on Bob's shoulders tilted her head before answering. "…Alice."
Atalanta's eyes narrowed. Beneath Alice's dress, she caught sight of a bulge—two plush white feet and a pair of rabbit ears poking out. Her lips curled into a mocking smirk.
"Well, would you look at that. You almost killed the main target of our first task. Tsk, tsk… what would our guide say, Ms. Lefthand?"
Xini's eyes widened in fear, Robert's in surprise, and Earl's in quiet amazement. Earl chuckled, the sound only feeding the fire between him and Kara.
Whoosh!
Atalanta tilted her head just in time, dodging a knife aimed at the back of her neck. She let out a dry laugh before swinging a punch at Kara's cheek.
The strike stopped short—Earl had stepped in, grinning with his cigar hanging from his lips.
"Easy there, little lady. Deep breaths. No point fighting each other," he said, gently pushing her aside.
Atalanta huffed, holding herself back. Robert clapped her on the back with a snarky grin.
"Come on, walk it off. Helps you cool down faster," he laughed.
She shrugged him off, shoving him lightly before chuckling under her breath.
As the group broke through the edge of the forest, the bus came into view, parked squarely in the middle of the road.
"How utterly despicable! What if our grand vehicle had been damaged?! And worse—what of my clothes?!" Ret cried, throwing his hands up.
Chance snorted, patting him on the back as he boarded first. "Relax, your highness. No one cares about your clothes."
Ret mimicked his voice mockingly, cursing under his breath as he followed. The bus frame stretched open to let Bob inside, the brute needing more space than the others.
Inside, Hektor clapped his hands in dry applause before sighing.
"Good job, you sorry louts. Now, pay attention. Earl's going to explain exactly who Alice is."
Earl chuckled, scratching the back of his head as he pulled the cigar from his lips.
"Damn… boss, didn't have to put me on the spot like that."
He exhaled a thin plume of smoke, turning toward the girl seated beside him.
"Well, this little lass here is our ticket to gathering all twenty-six Seeds of Light. That doll she's carrying—it isn't normal." His tone dropped lower. "It's an Abyssal. We don't know what disaster class it falls under, but we do know this: it can revive us. A limb, an organ… even the whole damn body."
Silence fell.
Viktoria's grin stretched wider, twisted, almost splitting her face. The news thrilled her, but her excitement soured the moment she caught Hektor staring at her.
Chance groaned beside her, flicking his coin in and out of his fingers. "Unbelievable…"
"Oh, for fuck's sake! So everything's smooth sailing now, yeah?" Xini said with a crooked grin—only to let out a sharp grunt when Atalanta rammed her shoulder into his chest.
"The hell was that for?!" he snapped, glaring.
Atalanta rolled her eyes. "Because you're an idiot. Just because we've got some miracle reviver doesn't mean this job got easier. You think there's no catch? You're dreaming."
Earl smirked, snapping his fingers. "Bingo. There is a catch. Every time Alice revives one of us, she feels the pain instead. All of it. At once."
Bob stiffened at that, a low rumble escaping his chest, eyes narrowing with concern.
Earl raised a hand. "Relax, big guy. She won't die from it. Just black out."
The bus rumbled along, wheels clattering as it crossed a great stone bridge. A massive sign loomed ahead:
Welcome to District 24, Sector X. Land of Nobility and Honor!
Beyond stretched a strange blend of modern glass towers and dark-age stonework. Street vendors barked out prices from their carts, while smoke from frying pans curled into the air. A handful of rusted cars sat idling farther down, but here at the sector's edge—the lower-class quarter—it was mostly horses, wagons, and mud roads.
"Well," Earl muttered, his calm demeanor faltering as his gaze swept the city. "Here we are. Sector X. Our first stop."
"The Seed of Light here… it's at the center of the city. The monarch holds it," Earl explained, his voice trembling. He shut his eyes tight, swallowing hard before letting out a slow breath.
Placing the cigar between his lips, he forced a chuckle, then slung his coat over his left shoulder.
As the group filed out of the bus, John paused beside him, resting a hand on his back. His tone was calm, though his expression carried quiet grief.
"Whatever's weighing on you… it'll be alright. It's our job to save this home of ours."
Earl didn't answer. John sighed softly and walked ahead.
Pitter… patter… pitter… patter…
Rain began to fall, dampening the cracked cobblestone streets as the group huddled closer together. Robert shivered and muttered a terrible pun about the rain. Ret smacked him on the back of the head while Benedict chuckled at the exchange.
"I thought we were here to find thirteen Shards?" Chance asked, walking between Kara and Viktoria.
Earl didn't hear him—or rather, his words drowned beneath Earl's own storm of thoughts. Every step felt heavier. He wanted nothing more than to turn back, to sit on the bus and pretend this place didn't exist. But he couldn't. Not here. Not now.
No one could see what was twisting inside his head. Of course they couldn't. He would never allow his comrades to know that the right hand of their guide was unraveling the moment they entered this sector.
"Macbeth. Mikey's talking to you," Robert said, snapping Earl out of it with a slap to the back of the head.
"Huh…?" Earl muttered, blinking before quickly masking his unease. He forced a grin, turned to Chance, and spoke evenly.
"Michael, the Shards are just a cover. To everyone else in this city, we say we're searching for the thirteen radiant shards. The truth? We don't breathe a word of it—not if we want to stay alive."
Chance nodded grimly, understanding what would happen if the guards, the citizens… or worse, the monarch, learned their true purpose.
A sudden rumble broke the tension. The group turned—only to see Robert clutching his stomach with a sheepish grin. Ret stood beside him, utterly unimpressed.
"Unbelievable," Ret muttered, dragging a hand down his face. He grabbed Robert by the wrist and started leading him toward a food stall.
Atalanta raised a brow, watching the two wander off.
"Should we stop them?"
John shook his head. "Leave them. They'll catch up. We should focus on gathering information… maybe even finding a place to rest."
The others nodded, splitting off into smaller groups. Only Kara chose to slip away on her own.
Xini, Atalanta, and John walked through the busier stretches of the lower-class district. Stalls crowded the streets, vendors shouting their wares, while children darted through alleyways chasing street rats. Men slumped against walls with bottles in hand, their laughter mixing with curses.
"John, mate, you really think we'll get anything useful here? I mean, look at this dump," Xini muttered, his face twisted with disgust.
Atalanta sighed, pinching his cheek hard enough to make him flinch. "Ignore him. But seriously, why are we here?"
John kept walking, his left hand resting inside his coat, eyes scanning every passerby with practiced calm.
"There's someone I know here. Hard to track, though. He uses a skin-changing device from District 13," he said in his usual low tone.
That alone raised their brows. Skin-changers weren't cheap—three to four thousand credits at the very least. Whoever John knew was no ordinary contact.
Xini clicked his tongue and looked away, his gaze landing on a boy wrestling with a grown man over three skewers of meat. His expression softened. Jaw tightening, he shut his eyes and muttered a curse.
A firm hand landed on his shoulder. John's voice followed.
"We're not heroes… but we're not monsters either. Do what you need to."
Xini's eyes snapped open. He stomped forward and, without hesitation, drove his fist into the man's jaw. The thug flew into a nearby wall, cracking the surface before collapsing unconscious. Xini snatched up the skewers and shoved them back into the boy's hands.
A faint golden shimmer—like a band of light—flickered and faded from his knuckles.
Atalanta rushed to him, glaring. "You idiot! Why would you use Virtue here?!"
Xini winced at her tone, rubbing the back of his neck with a guilty sigh.
"Spur of the moment, alright? I lost it. Can you really blame me?"
A group of silver-armored knights marched toward them, making both Atalanta and Xini curse under their breath. One knight stepped forward, drawing his gleaming sword and leveling the tip at them.
"You three are under arrest for property damage and assaulting a citizen of our sector! Drop your weapons and follow us. Resist, and you will be executed where you stand!"
The three exchanged glances before reluctantly surrendering their gear. A barbed-wire bat, a bow with quiver, and two revolvers clattered onto the cobbled street. Another knight gathered them, tossing everything into a wooden crate strapped to a horse.
"Assaulting a citizen, my ass… I was trying to help a kid, dammit!" Xini growled, but Atalanta quickly pulled him back, trying to defuse the tension.
John stepped forward instead, his eyes scanning the knights' heavy armor for weak points. Lowering his head, he smoothed his voice and expression into something calm, almost persuasive.
"Honored knights, my companions and I were simply passing through. Surely it is fair to release us—for all we did was save a starving child." His words flowed like silk, charming without crossing into suspicion.
The knights exchanged looks, then seized their arms and shoved them forward.
"Only the knights of the Roundtable may pass judgment on criminals of this city," one said coldly, forcing Xini ahead.
Xini's jaw tightened, his eyes burning. Under his breath he muttered, "Like hell you'd ever lift a finger to help these people."
His words went unheard. Shackled by steel hands, they were marched toward the border between the middle and lower districts—the only place in the sector that held a dungeon.