Gamma froze for a brief moment. A drop of cold sweat slid down her temple as she slowly turned her head, maintaining her composure.
This question wasn't merely about money.
It was a test—of how an organization preserves loyalty, stability, and the dignity of those who serve within it.
Because if it weren't… there would be no reason for someone like Gabriel—who could turn leaves into gold—to ask something that could be solved with a single, simple order:
"Take whatever you need."
Yet he didn't.
And that was precisely why Gamma felt this question was both dangerous and important.
She closed her eyes for a moment, calculating carefully in her mind—not just numbers, but the political, moral, and psychological implications of every gold coin that would circulate through Shadow Garden.
"…If we want Shadow Garden to become a true kingdom," Gamma said slowly, "then they must not live like mercenaries. They must live like citizens of a prosperous nation."
She opened her eyes and looked at Gabriel.
"For General Members, enough for a decent life—food, clothing, and small savings—so they never feel the need to seek money elsewhere."
"For Numbers, two to three times that. They are operational assets—specialists, not ordinary soldiers."
Gamma paused, her voice lowering, more serious now.
"As for the Seven Shades…"
"They should never have to think about money at all. Full access to funds, research, logistics, and personal needs. They are not subordinates—they are pillars."
"If they begin worrying about living costs," she continued, "their focus will split. And Shadow Garden cannot afford leaders whose minds are divided."
She lowered her head slightly.
"That is the stable structure, Ash-sama."
Silence settled between them again as Gamma waited for Gabriel's judgment.
Meanwhile, Gabriel's thoughts spun rapidly.
The organizational structure Gamma described was excellent.
With a structure like this, Shadow Garden would move forward without friction in the years to come.
A faint smile touched Gabriel's lips, satisfied with Gamma's answer.
"A beautiful structure," he said softly, "like a constellation where every star rests in the correct orbit."
Gamma looked slightly surprised, then lowered her head politely.
"Thank you for the praise, Ash-sama. I am only ensuring that the system you built will not collapse over something trivial like welfare."
Gabriel let out a quiet chuckle.
"Don't be lulled by stability, Gamma," he said, calm but firm. "You must remain cautious."
She nodded without hesitation. "Of course. I always will."
Gabriel then turned his gaze toward the mist-covered expanse.
"For now… I'm entrusting everything here to the Seven Shades," he said. "I will be leaving for quite some time. Do not search for me, and do not worry. If the world truly needs Ash… I will appear."
Gamma watched his back, her expression composed—yet filled with quiet resolve.
"Shadow Garden will endure," she replied. "When you return, Alexandria—no, Shadow Garden—will be a kingdom worthy of welcoming you."
Pale mist gathered around Gabriel.
In an instant, his figure faded, as if dissolving into the air—vanishing from Gamma's sight and from every pair of eyes nearby.
Yet in truth, Gabriel still stood right there. He had simply hacked the perception of everything around him, rendering his existence into something the world itself could no longer recognize.
Like a shadow choosing not to be seen. Like mist concealing the truth.
He walked forward at an easy pace, both hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. His eyes closed, a faint smile resting on his face.
Within his mind, something trembled—not fear, not unease, but a feeling he had not experienced in a long time:
Freedom.
Shadow Garden now stood firm, independent.
Its structure was solid.
Its chain of command clear and orderly.
Alpha, Gamma, the Seven Shades, the Numbers—even the General Members—could now act without waiting for his will every second.
The economy moved.
Logistics, defense, intelligence—everything pulsed like a fully matured organism.
With all that in place, his two main missions would continue on their own, without his direct involvement.
For the first time… Gabriel was no longer their center of gravity.
"So this is what it feels like," he murmured quietly, "to not be needed every moment."
Even so, his face remained calm, that faint smile still there—free from the weight of responsibility over Shadow Garden, he intended to savor every second of this freedom.
His steps halted.
The faint smile vanished, his brow tightening.
He remembered his farewell words to Gamma: Ash would be gone for quite a long time.
Which meant Gabriel could no longer appear openly in the Ash persona as usual.
That would break the flow. The narrative he had built would feel unnatural if he forced it.
So, to satisfy that quiet, buried desire, Gabriel would have to create a new persona—separate from Ash.
He didn't mind.
In the world he shaped, pale mist was pure uncertainty.
Ash wasn't just an observer—Ash was that uncertainty itself.
Wasn't that perfect?
No. It went beyond the word "perfect."
Beyond beautiful.
Beyond extraordinary.
Gabriel glanced aside, eyes landing on a nearby stone. He set his right foot on it, right arm folded across his chest, left hand rising so his fingers brushed his chin.
Absolute cinema.
No—
This was the pinnacle of Ash's existential theater.
A scene even the gods would not dare direct.
The faint smile returned.
In that instant, Gabriel had found a new direction—Who he would become next.
***
The night wind howled harder, rattling the train cars and sending the black cloth over Gabriel's eyes fluttering like the wings of a nocturnal bird.
Steel wheels shrieked along the rails, their rhythm a mechanical chant grinding away the silence.
He no longer wore the persona of Ash.
Instead, he stood clad in a uniform resembling a gakuran, layered with a white hakama and long black trousers, his silhouette sharp beneath the dim light.
On his shoulder, Morgan sat with her small legs crossed, one hand holding back her long hair as it whipped in the wind, her gaze fixed on the railway line slicing through the darkness.
"You know," Morgan said flatly, her tone precise and cutting, "standing on top of a speeding train while engaging in a sword fight is an idiotic way to relieve boredom during training."
A faint smile touched Gabriel's lips beneath the cloth covering his eyes.
"Fay," he murmured, his voice carrying like a whisper crossing empty space, "this isn't an ordinary duel. It's a win–win solution."
The wind surged, making his white outer robe billow like mist given form.
"It's training. And besides becoming someone other than Ash… I want to refine Ki and Zetten, not Mana Sense."
Morgan glanced sideways, one brow lifting slightly. "On top of a train moving like an arrow, ready to throw you into a ravine at any moment?"
"All the more reason."
Gabriel's tone remained calm, but something vast lay beneath it—like a slow-turning cosmos hidden behind still water.
"Ash is the mist that watches. But this time… I'm not Ash."
He tilted his head a little, as if looking toward the sky beyond the black cloth covering his eyes.
"Right now, I'm No Name. A role without history and without destiny—just a blade, and the will to move."
Morgan fell silent for a moment.
"Suit yourself," she said at last with a quiet sigh. "If you fall from here, I'm not catching you."
"Ash doesn't fall," Gabriel replied, not a trace of doubt in his voice.
A second later, a boy leapt up onto the train car, landing directly in front of Gabriel.
He wore that familiar slime-made weapon cloak.
Cid Kagenou.
Cid went still.
Sensing Cid's Ki, Gabriel formed a faint smile.
On the other side, Cid was busy assembling the narrative he had built inside his head.
The night wind swept through his hair, the roar of iron wheels pounding like the heartbeat of the world.
To him—his eyes now also wrapped in cloth—that sound wasn't just noise.
This was… a stage.
Cid drew in a slow breath.
This… this was too perfect.
A train racing through the night.
Two young boys with swords.
No witnesses.
No history.
If someone were to write this… they would call it a legend.
But a legend must never know it is a legend.
Cid tilted his head slightly, as if listening to the tremor of steel beneath his feet.
Hmph… the right hand of shadow always knows how to arrange the stage of fate.
Cid gave a small smile—the kind that only appeared when the world unknowingly played along with his imagination.
Alright then.
I'll play my role.
The wind hissed past.
Across from him, Gabriel stood calmly, eyes covered.
Cid raised his wooden sword. At once, bluish-purple Mana flowed slowly along the wooden blade, like light seeping through cracks in the night.
"A secret training session on top of a moving train," Cid murmured, his voice sliced by the wind. "This really does feel like the beginning of something that shouldn't exist."
On the other side, pale white Mana traced the length of Gabriel's wooden sword.
He pointed the tip straight at where Cid stood.
"Shadow," Gabriel said, his voice echoing as if from the edge of the void, "if you truly exist there… then let this world forget we were ever here."
Cid grinned behind the cloth over his eyes.
"Heh… of course."
He slid one foot forward, taking his stance.
"A true legend," Cid said quietly, "always fights in places that will never be recorded."