**In the Marked Mercenary base of operations, in the primary plaza**
A young woman with gorgeous long green hair stood watching the raid report on television. She wore a neat reddish dress with pink flower patterns. It was Carmalitta, watching with hopeless worry, her fingers interlaced as if in prayer. *Please, everyone, be safe,* she pleaded in her mind.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Jerak, who stepped in shaking his microphone, his grey jacket reflecting some light, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes. "Don't need'a worry so much, Carms. They got my boy Kran, and he's never failed. They'll teach that red witch woman a lesson and escape fine!" he said casually, dismissing the idea of failure.
Carmalitta didn't make eye contact, but she nodded regardless. "I know, but I can't help but be scared. Those rookies are with him and Clara, including that boy Riko. What if something goes wrong?" she asked, her expression showcasing her concern and fear.
Before Jerak could reply, a calm yet condescendingly careless male voice joined the conversation. "You raise a fair concern."
Jerak and Carmalitta quickly turned to see Yura standing there, tall as ever, a pristine white cape with golden outlines hanging from his back. His blond hair was now braided and flowing downward as he read a book in his hand.
"M-Master Yura?!" Jerak and Carmalitta spoke in unison, bowing respectfully—something Yura ignored as he retained a tiny faint smile, his cheeks shifting as he chewed a piece of broccoli.
"I've already sent for Void Eye to fetch the other Crimson Stains. How long Clara and Erenor can hold out is what we should be worried about," Yura said.
**In the Mid-levels of the fortress**
The countless halls of the wealthy mansion-like layout only irritated Seracore more as he moved through them, his shield stained with blood from the countless henchmen of Laticia and otherworldly beasts he'd killed.
Shortly after Riko, Rennet, and Jetore ascended to the upper levels, leaving him behind, he made an effort to continue and had managed to ascend to the second level, pacing through dining halls, quarters, and control rooms with records, though his frustration continued to grow as he felt as if he were running in a loop.
*GRAH! I hate this dumbass place, and those bastards just left me here! I'm their senior! Arrogant pricks,* he thought.
Suddenly, Albert's voice could be heard. "Where's Riko?"
Seracore looked ahead to see Albert and Kiera. His mind hit instant relief as he saw Kiera relatively unharmed. "You! You better not have done anything! I'll murder you!! That's my sister you're messin' with!" Seracore shouted, eying Albert as he stepped between them protectively.
The reaction made Albert scoff as he moved some of his pale silver hair out of his face. "Of course I didn't. I have no interest in that. Now, I asked you a question—where's Riko? Do you know?"
Seracore grit his teeth, about to shout, until Kiera gently and softly touched his shoulder and offered a shy but kind smile as she shook her head, seemingly calming him.
"That guy with the stupid goggles on his head? He's makin' a break for the top. He went with that shitty bomber and that ginger brat," Seracore said.
Albert's expression narrowed and then softened, as if relieved. "We should do the same. Kiera and I faced one of Laticia's top *slaves*—though it pains me to call him that. He was a sadistic murderer dressed as a clown. We were lucky to have survived. Regardless, it seems all of your rampages have severely damaged the architectural support and layout of the fortress. I guarantee the instability will cause a collapse soon," Albert claimed.
Much to Seracore's concern, he wanted to shout at Albert, even yell at him for putting Kiera in danger, but he couldn't deny he agreed. The cracks on the walls surrounding them were spreading every minute; a couple of rooms had collapsed, and the lower level was likely breaking and collapsing in on itself.
"Tck, fine then. Lead the way if you're such a genius," he replied.
**With Riko and Trish in the business room, at the highest point of the top level connecting to the surface and the Auction Hall**
Riko's eyes widened slightly as he stepped closer. "Are you one of that woman's slaves?" he asked.
Trish scowled in offense. "Do I look like I have a stupid collar on my neck?! Of course not!" she yelled before calming herself and smirking. "Are you gonna answer my question? Who are you?" she continued.
Riko stared at her blankly for three seconds before grinning with a determined look as the lens on his goggles gleamed. "Riko. I'm a Marked Mercenary, but also just a guy that likes making things," he said casually before walking past the cage, dismissing Trish much to her shock.
"H-HEY! Don't ignore me! …Riko, huh? So I'm guessing the rumors were true—you idiots came for Laticia's head. Do you really think you can win?" she asked, skeptical and distrusting.
Riko turned to look at her, his blue eyes crystal clear. "I don't think—I know. She's made people suffer so much, and I hate it, because in my books, the biggest crime is to separate people from their loved ones forever," he said, his eyes deep in thought, remembering flashing memories of Zephyr.
The words surprised Trish, who found herself softening for a moment before shaking her head and glaring at Riko. "And how would a Marked Mercenary like you know what it's like to lose people?! Or are you just trying to sound righteous? 'Cause you should give it up! In this world, everyone's selfish!" she claimed.
Riko seemed rather bored by Trish's sudden words. He knelt down and began to open and rummage through the drawers, something that made Trish's eye twitch.
*Who is this guy? And…isn't he listening?!* she thought.
Finally, Riko looked up, having found nothing useful in the drawers of the office table. "You say that as if you're not sayin' no to that Laticia. You don't have a collar, you're not a slave either, and with a mouth like that, it's pretty obvious *you* haven't given up," Riko said with a knowing look that silenced Trish. It was true, after all—the hypocrisy in her earlier statement.
Trish's expression hardened, her blue eyes carefully scanning Riko with a hint of respect. "Fair enough. But then…are you some kind of naive idiot that talks about justice while killing people?" she asked.
The question seemed to gain Riko's attention before he grinned lazily. "Nah, not really. I've never killed people…and honestly, I don't like to think about it either. But…I told myself I'd kill whoever the bastard was that killed someone I saw as family," Riko said, looking thoughtful for a moment.
The statement seemed to have shaken Trish before she spoke. "Revenge… it's the same with me. I'm out for revenge, too. I don't care about you Marked Mercenaries or the stupid failure of a government. I just want… to destroy the Shadow Wounds," she said, her fingers gripping the bars of the cage tightly as emotion washed over her.
"The Shadow Wounds? What's that?" Riko asked before casually taking out a chocolate candy from his pocket and unwrapping it, his expression ignorant and clueless—something that mildly infuriated Trish before she reluctantly answered:
"A criminal group with influence over Cryohara and dealings with neighboring countries. They… well… they orphaned me and destroyed the place I called home… I want nothing more than to kill them all!" she said, emotion leaking out as if stirring painful memories.
***
**6 years ago, on a small rural town on the borders of Cryohara**
A ten-year-old Trish was smiling brightly in adoration as she watched through binoculars atop a cliffside on endless, beautiful grassy plains filled with an expanse of flowers and a few small farms producing food for the local community. That secluded town was known as Flowmouth, situated atop the grassy plains and forests at the far reaches of Cryohara's eastern border.
"Still bird watching, Trish?" a feminine voice spoke, causing Trish to turn.
"Dorothy!" the young Trish shouted, a warm smile growing on her face as she ran into the arms of her older sister, Dorothy.
Dorothy chuckled softly and gently lifted Trish's bangs before speaking. "I'm going to the city again tomorrow to buy some things. Wanna come with me?" she asked with a wink from her right eye, a small bit of mischief in her voice.
Trish immediately raised her arms in excitement. "Of course!! City! Yayyy!!! I wanna go there and help provide for our town!... and also to see what it's like… if that's okay," she said.
The words caused Dorothy to blink as her eyes seemed thoughtful for a moment before she grinned and kissed Trish's forehead. "Of course it's okay, silly! We just need to tell Mum and Dad," Dorothy answered.
Trish lived her childhood in relative peace. The town of Flowmouth was small and separated but bright as ever, its locals getting by on local crops they'd sell to the mainland, with Trish's older sister Dorothy overseeing and visiting a bustling city from time to time to make the business possible to support the community. The people of Flowmouth, despite technically being within Cryohara, had little knowledge of the political shifts or struggles in the country; they lived a simple but honest and peaceful farm life.
Trish, in particular, was special because she always had a particular talent with sight—having impossibly good vision. From a young age, her older sister Dorothy noticed how Trish seemed able to notice details in what she saw with terrifying accuracy. The reason for this was the high amount of strange energy bound in the flora and fauna of Flowmouth's farmlands, given off by otherworldly beasts found in the forest nearby. Their presence stained the area with strange energy—the same energy that fueled and formed the supernatural powers wielded by Marked Ones.
The orange light of the sunset bathed the town as Dorothy walked across a bridge overseeing a waterwheel. The moans of cattle could be heard in the distance, but they were overshadowed by Trish's soft giggles as she clung to Dorothy's back, being supported from below.
"What do you wanna be when you grow up, sis?" Dorothy playfully asked with a smile.
The question caused Trish's eyes to widen and fill with excitement as her small hands embraced Dorothy's neck even tighter. "Isn't it obvious?! I wanna help people just like you! Using my talent!" Trish answered enthusiastically, pointing toward her eyes, something that made Dorothy chuckle.
"Really? Then you can use those eyes for so many things! You could be a doctor! A microbiologist! A pilot! Anything!... Just promise me you won't stay behind in Flowmouth forever…" she suggested, a hint of sadness in her voice.
Trish seemed to pause for a moment before she head-butted Dorothy from behind.
"OW! What was that for?" Dorothy demanded.
"You dummy! I told you! I'm gonna help people and support like you do! So when I'm around the world, I'll be sending loads of money and other stuff back here! So Mum, Dad, you, and everyone else never have to be sad! And you won't have to take six-hour-long trips to the mainland to buy stuff to bring back here! Oh! And I-I'll be visiting sometimes, too!" Trish yelled.
The words touched Dorothy, who seemed to grow quiet for a moment, her golden hair reflecting the light of the orange sunset. "…That's… amazing, sis," she said as she pulled Trish into a warm and loving embrace. "I was worried you'd be stubborn and want to stay in Flowmouth your whole life, but I'm glad you wanna go out," she admitted as she gently placed Trish down and held her right hand as they walked through the town.
They passed by a farm; people could be seen preparing soil or harvest as the smell of meat dishes filled the air from chimneys.
"You say you wanna help people, but… as your big sister, I wanna know—what's your actual dream?" Dorothy asked as they approached a small but comfortably humble wooden home, held up by pale pillars, with a beautiful garden of different colored flowers.
Trish recoiled slightly, her face scrunched up in guilt before she answered: "Well… I… wanna see the world and… connect people."
Dorothy's eyes widened. "What do ye mean?" she asked, kneeling down to meet Trish at eye level.
The young Trish clenched her hands before looking up with a mix of guilt and reluctant determination. "T-there's so many amazing places in the world, right? Great views, giant buildings, those places called theme parks, and even wonders in the world like the Temples scattered across our country, or-or what about those waterfalls people talk about in Ishania?! You can't tell me there's no history in them. People keep fighting… and hurting each other. I hate that. I wanna see the world—all of it—and bring everyone together! So we can all hold hands and see each other's cultures and histories! I'm sure it'll be fun! Everything's built on history, right?... But I'm sorry… I know it's selfish," Trish said.
For a moment, Dorothy just sat there looking at her little sister with understanding and pride. "I see… history, is that something you're into? And… what you said about wanting to see the world through your eyes, and show it to people, and bring everyone together… I love it," she said, nothing but honesty and love in her voice.
"Y-you're not mad?" Trish asked, but Dorothy pulled her into a tight hug.
"I could never be mad at you and your amazing eyes, sis," she said before smiling kindly.
As night drew near, Trish sat at the wooden dinner table, observing as her father and mother ate in front of her. Her father looked a little brutish and wore a black tank top but had light skin and jagged brown hair. Her mother had the same blond hair that Trish and Dorothy had. Trish's eyes focused for a while on the plate of chicken and rice on her mother's plate, something that made the family dinner slightly awkward.
"Is there something wrong, sweetie?" her mother asked.
Dorothy's attention was taken, too. Trish pointed forward, her small but beautiful eyes glowing with focus. "Fifty-two thousand and two hundred!! That's how many rice grains you have, Mom!" she claimed.
At that moment, the table went silent. The thought of what Trish just did was concerning enough, but her being able to recount it perfectly wasn't human. Her mother's eyes widened as she gasped. "T-Trish, you can… count all of it? But you can't even see all of it," she said, shaking her head in denial.
Trish's father grit his teeth. "Cut the crap, kiddo. There's no way you can see all of it and count it all! Even if your sight's been freaky since you were born!" he interjected. His words were aggressive, but not because he was abusive—no, in fact, he always loved and provided for his daughters—but it was from the shock.
Dorothy watched carefully as her little sister shrugged it off and dug into her chicken, the sauce splattering on the plate. She couldn't help but worry.
During the night, as the light of the moon crept through the windows, young Trish carefully set her bed as she prepared to rest her mind and body, the excitement of visiting the city with Dorothy the next day weighing heavy on her.
Suddenly, the temperature in the small room dropped as a mysterious presence appeared behind her. She dared to look as a being best described as godly stood before her. It was Vesterious, his bat-like wings spanning across the room, reflecting the image of the cosmos. A humanoid supernatural being, its hair projected glimpses of stars, and its skin was a pale color with pristine markings. A golden halo hovered above its head as if it were an angel sent from the heavens, though divinity was a far concept as Vesterious spoke in an almost demonic tone:
"Your gift shall be honed."
Trish felt her body refusing to heed her command—unable to scream, unable to move, as if time had stopped its flow. Vesterious approached, pointing the tip of its long fingernail protruding from its right index finger forward. With a touch to her forehead, Trish felt her body become enchanted as a rush of energy forced into her, flowing through her internal organs, cells—everything. Pressure built in her eyes for a moment before a Passion Mark imprinted on her forehead—the symbol of a third eye.
Trish collapsed to her knees, struggling for breath, her small body adapting to its changes.
The door swung open as Dorothy ran in, terrified. She held a metal bat in her right hand as she stepped defensively in front of Trish, staring at Vesterious. With a loud scream, she smashed forward in an attempt to hit Vesterious with the bat. However, she felt herself repelled as she was launched into the wall. Vesterious merely smiled before fading from sight.