It had been three days since Death Hand hit the café. Three days, and the sound of his severed arm smashing the tile still echoed in my head. He wasn't on my mind because he was a threat—he wasn't. Death Hand was your typical villain of the week. A guy like that just breaks furniture, maybe kills a person or two.
What bothered me was the other thing. The way the air changed, the overwhelming presence I felt when he arrived.
I'd heard stories, everyone had. "The Nightmare of Berlin." A name like that tells you everything you'd need to know about him. But what was he doing in a hole-in-the-wall café cutting down bottom-feeders like Death Hand? Someone with that rank doesn't move without being ordered to. Which meant… what?
I grabbed my phone and pulled up the Peaceguard site. Black and gold interface, boasting sharp lines and perfect symmetry. "Grand Coalition Front Peaceguard: Protecting Germany, Preserving Peace." Right.
The high-ranking operators were paraded like celebrities. "Guardians of Order," the caption read. Each profile pulsed with color-coded ranks and varying symbols:
Novizens – deep crimson, a single blade in a circle. Essentially the recruits, they made up the bottom rung, and were the bulk of the GCF Peaceguard forces.
Wächter – steel gray, a small shield marked with the Sunko sunburst. The faces you see on every street corner, these are your standard operators, and are far more capable than Novizens.
Hochwächter – midnight blue, twin swords crossed over a laurel. Riot breakers, purge dogs, elite specialists. The ones who hunt down rogue shapers that are more dangerous than usual.
Oberwächter – molten gold, a skull with a dagger clamped in its teeth, crowned with a civic wreath. The apex. The best of the best; there are only five of them.
And there he was. Shogun.
The site didn't list stats or kill counts, nor did it need to. The symbols that Oberwächters carried spoke for themselves.
I locked the screen and let the phone drop into my lap. If someone like that was moving over small fry… something was off.
My jaw tightened. I didn't like questions without answers and yet, that's all I'd been getting the past few years.
The apartment hummed with the low buzz of the radiator that barely worked. My place wasn't much. A couch worn thin, a coffee table with one leg shorter than the rest.
I stared at the ceiling again, following the same cracks. Anything to keep from looking at the counter, at the bright pink slip sitting there. Rent was due in four days, and I didn't have enough Sunkos to cover half.
I'd thought about gigs and ways to make quick cash. But everything decent ran through the GCF's systems, and the last thing I needed was some scanner peeling through my history. Every job wanted credentials I couldn't give, and required IDs I didn't own. I considered working for the black market, but that came with its own set of problems.
I dragged a hand down my face. Loneliness was heavier in moments like this. I told myself I liked it, and that quiet meant safety. That it was better this way.
But the quiet never really stayed quiet; not in my head.
"You could at least try to look alive," a voice said.
It wasn't the room, nor was it from the street outside.
"Three days of brooding. That's a new record for you, champ."
I sat up slowly. "Leo," I muttered. My throat felt dry.
"That's the name. Glad you remember." His voice had that tinge of lazy confidence I'd come to hate. "You know what they say: speak my name and—"
"I didn't speak your name."
"Details. So, what's the plan, Abital? Because from where I'm sitting, you're doing a great impression of a dead man with rent due."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You haven't said anything these past few days. I forgot, were you always this talkative?"
"Only when you make it this easy. Honestly, I'm impressed. It's been three days since a live re-enactment of a Japanese horror show tore through your favorite café, and your ass is still parked on that couch like it's going to sprout Sunkos."
"I don't need your commentary, Leo. I've got it handled."
"Sure you do. Otherwise, who's going to tell you that everything's circling down the drain while you sit here and mope?"
I dragged my eyes back to the slip on the counter. "What do you want, Leo?"
"Me?" he laughed. "Nothing. You, though—you need to start thinking past rent and barely getting by. Here's a reality check you keep dodging: you're not built for this life. Never were. In fact, I'd say the way you live now is an antithesis to what you were made for."
I didn't answer.
"Face it. you were designed for war, and last I checked, war's over."
I stared at the wall. He always knew how to cut deep.
"War's done," I said. "So am I."
"Cute lie. You almost had me convinced. Except… you're still breathing, aren't you? And unless something changes, you're still stronger than ninety-nine percent of the poor bastards walking out there."
"Strength alone doesn't matter."
"Tell that to the guy who got diced in front of you."
"That wasn't my fight," I said flatly. "I only got involved to protect Alarie."
"Not your fight, hm?" Leo asked. "But it's about to be. You think Oberwächter Shogun was there for him? For that joke of a threat? No. He was there because he smelled something heavier. Something that shouldn't exist anymore."
I clutched my head with my hands. "Stop."
"Operation Grand Citizen," Leo continued, ignoring me. "Ring a bell? The GCF spent two years convincing the world that the Warforged were gone. Dead. Every last one purged. And yet here you are, hiding in an apartment that could collapse if you sneezed too hard."
My stomach turned sour.
"The question is, how long do you think your secret lasts?"
Silence stretched between us after that. For a moment, I thought Leo had finally shut up. Then, the pressure hit.
It started in my temples, dull at first, then sharp. It felt like someone was driving nails into the back of my eyes. I grabbed my head.
"Finally."
The voice wasn't Leo. This one was scraping against the inside of my skull, every syllable felt like it was splitting my head apart.
"Find them."
I staggered forward, my hands on the edge of the counter. "Who—"
"Find them before it's too late."
Blood began to drip from my nose. The walls seemed to tilt as shadows stretched longer than they should.
"Leo—"
"Not me", he snapped. His tone was sharp in a way I'd never heard. "This isn't me, Abital."
The pressure spiked. My vision blurred, black creeping at the edges.
"They're waiting. Follow the pull. You know where."
And just like that, it was gone. The weight lifted, leaving only the pounding in my skull and my own ragged breath.
I stayed there for a long moment, my palms pressed flat to the counter.
"…Leo?"
Leo stayed silent for a moment. I thought he'd vanished again.
"…You okay?"
"No," I said.
"Define 'no.' Because right now I'm picking up either shock or homicidal intent."
"They're alive."
"What?"
"The voice." I sat back. "It wasn't lying. I can't explain how I know for sure, but… I know that voice was telling the truth. There are others out there."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do." My fists tightened on my knees. "If someone wanted me dead, they wouldn't waste time whispering in my head, Leo. They'd send half the GCF Peaceguard forces to kill me. Hell, they'd send their entire army! All five Oberwächters would be tearing this apartment to atoms by now."
Leo didn't respond. I could feel him thinking, though—whatever counted as thinking for him.
"So, what? You want to chase ghosts now?"
"Not ghosts." I pushed off the couch, moving to the window. The city felt like a blur; bright lights and endless motion. A world that would be happy if I dropped dead. "If they survived… if even one of them survived, then they've been doing what I've been doing. Hiding, waiting, maybe even building a new life."
"And you think this is your cue to what—play recruiter? Form a little club?"
"Yes."
"That's…insane. I thought you were a little smarter than that, Abital. Perhaps what little faith I had in you was far too misguided."
"It's something more purposeful." I turned from the glass and grabbed my jacket from the chair. "You said it yourself; I wasn't built for this life, and you're right. I wasn't."
Leo let out something like a sigh. "You realize what happens if the GCF catches wind of this. They'll put a target on you big enough to blot out the sky. I wouldn't be surprised if Shogun carved you into bite-sized pieces himself."
"Then I'll just have to move faster." I slipped the jacket on. "The GCF took everything, Leo. My people. My purpose. My war. My memories. What's worse, they made it all seem like they did everyone a favor. If they're still breathing, I'm not leaving them to rot in this city."
"And when you find them? What then? Create an uprising? A grand rebellion to take back all of Germany?"
I didn't bother to answer right away. I glanced at the counter—at the slip, the cracked ceiling…all of it. It was the culmination of the pathetic life I'd pretended to build. All of it is worthless now.
"When I find them," I said quietly, "we take back what they stole, and expose the truth."
Leo laughed under his breath. "Damn. You've got that tone. Haven't heard that since—" He cut himself off. " ...Fine, Abital. You want to go hunting? Be my guest. I'm not stopping you. Don't fool yourself, though. Don't pretend you're doing this for anything but blood."
"Maybe I am," I said, pulling the door open. "It's like you said, Leo. That's what they made me for, isn't it?"
"Old District."
I froze mid-step.
The voice again, the one that wasn't Leo.
"Find them", it said louder. "The Old District. That's where you'll find what you need."
My throat felt like sandpaper. "Who are you?"
I didn't get an answer; just a low, vibrating hum. Then it was gone.
"Great," Leo broke in. "Now you're hearing two voices. That's healthy. Totally healthy."
I pressed my palms to my eyes. "You heard it too."
"What I didn't hear was a reason to listen to any other voices that aren't me. It's not like they pay rent to stay in your skull, or give you helpful advice like I do."
"It said to look in the Old District."
"Yeah, and maybe next time it'll say jump off a bridge. You gonna do that too, Abital?"
I didn't answer. I was still dwelling on those words. The Old District.
"Abital. Listen to me. Just… stop. Think this through before you do something stupid."
But I was already thinking, already dissecting the situation.
Three scenarios; none of them ideal.
First: a flaw in Solarius' devastating masterpiece, Operation Grand Citizen. A gap wide enough for some of us to slip through. Doesn't sound like him. He didn't miss. Still… even precision cracks when things are rushed.
I shook my head. No. Counting on Solarius making a mistake is suicide.
Second: underestimation. Maybe he sent in his hunting operators, thought it was enough, and the Warforged chewed through them before the noose tightened. That sounded like us. If a handful stayed sharp, they could've carved out survival.
But Solarius knew that too. Knew what we were. Betting on his arrogance? Bad odds.
Third: foresight. Some of them saw it coming. Faked their deaths, disappeared before the purge hit full swing. Not impossible. Some were smart. Smarter than me.
I stopped pacing. Three. Third one's the most likely.
"Faked it," I muttered. "They faked it and vanished."
Leo stayed quiet for a beat, then: "You're not letting this go, are you?"
"No."
"Fantastic," he sighed. "Alright, genius. You want to walk straight into hell? Have a plan. Because if someone hears the word 'Warforged' out there—"
"They won't."
"Sure," Leo muttered. "Because everyone in Dresden's suddenly deaf and dumb."
I ignored him and headed toward the closet. The door groaned, spilling out the same old clothes I'd worn for years. Nothing flashy—couldn't afford flashy, and even if I could, blending in mattered more than looking good.
I grabbed a black jacket, clean enough to pass. It smelled like detergent and damp air. I strapped the knife sheath to my thigh, checking the blade for the hundredth time. Still sharp.
"Wow. A knife. That'll be great when you're up against a guy who can hurl cars with his Soulforge. Big brain power play, champ."
"If things go well, I won't need to fight anyone," I said while sliding my phone into my pocket.
Leo scoffed. "Right. You're just going to waltz through a war graveyard, find your long-lost buddies, and hug it out. Definitely no murder today, or any type of conflict for that matter."
I didn't give him a reply. Instead, I pulled on my old boots, the soles nearly worn smooth. They'd carried me this far. They'd carry me farther.
"Bag," I muttered to myself, scanning the room.
"What, no magic survival kit under the bed?" Leo teased.
I ignored him again, grabbed an old canvas bag from the corner, and started stuffing it with what little I had: Sunkos, headphones, gloves. No food, and no first aid kit. I wasn't planning to camp. If this went right, I'd be in and out.
"Fantastic. You're all packed up for a suicide mission. Cute."
"Spare me."
"You know, people go missing in the old district all the time. Normal people. Now picture what happens when someone catches a whiff of what you are."
"They won't," I repeated, yanking the zipper closed. "I'll keep low."
"And if you can't?"
I slung the strap over my shoulder and glanced at the door. "Then I'll deal with it."
There was a long silence. For a second, I thought he'd dropped it. Then—
"You're an idiot," Leo muttered, and something in his tone sounded like a smile.
I reached for the door handle—then froze.
Because leaning against the wall near the window, cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, was a man.
Not just any man.
White hair. That was the first thing that hit me. It was white and shoulder-length, with the occasional strand drifting, as though they didn't care for gravity. And his eyes—those violet, sharp yet lazy eyes—looked like he'd been waiting for this exact moment to piss me off.
My gaze slid down to view the rest of him. A scarred metal chestplate strapped over a white dress shirt. His sleeves were rolled like he was clocking in for an office job, except he looked like he'd just walked out of a warzone. He wore black slacks in addition to boots that were too clean to match the rest of him, though somehow didn't feel out of place. He also wore gloves, the fingerless leather kind.
The tattoos caught my eye next. Chains that were inked into his skin coiled tight around both arms, wrapping up to his elbows and disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt.
Every inch of him looked real and solid. The only thing that gave him away was the static; his outline flickered faintly, and every time it flickered, his tattoos seemed to twitch and crawl.
And the cigarette he was smoking seemed…odd. It was still there, dangling from his mouth. The cigarette glowed faintly, but it never burned down.
He wasn't real. Couldn't be, shouldn't be real. But he looked real, too damn much.
My stomach dropped. "...What the hell."
He exhaled a puff of smoke that didn't smell like anything. "What?"
"You—" I pointed at him, words scrambling to catch up with my brain. "You have a body."
"Technically?" He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "No." He blew another lazy stream of smoke and smirked wider. "You're just seeing what you wanna see."
I blinked hard. Still there. Still leaning like this was his damn apartment. "Leo?"
"The one and only." He gave a mock bow without moving from the wall. The cigarette didn't even fall from his mouth. Show-off.
I dragged a hand down my face. "You've been a voice for years. And now you—what, just decide to show up looking like... that?"
He glanced down at himself like he had to check. "What, you don't like it? This was my best look. Back when people thought I was a big deal."
"You're not even real."
"Not physically." His grin sharpened. "But for you? Close enough."
I stared at him for another long second before shaking my head. "Why now?"
Leo casually shrugged. "You never asked."
My hand clenched into a fist so tight my knuckles cracked. "You—"
"Relax, sunshine." He pushed off the wall and walked past me, glitching faintly as he moved. "Figured if you're dumb enough to walk into the old district, I might as well make things interesting."
I groaned. "This is my life now."
"Damn right." Leo smirked.
I opened the door. Cold air spilled in. And without another word, I stepped out.
Leo grinned like the devil himself, floating on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, cigarette glowing faint in the dark. "Now then… let's go find some ghosts."