Oracio—known simply as "Boss" to his men—hadn't always been a bounty hunter. He had once been a respected guard of the Alliance, spending years protecting its people with honor and quiet duty. Until the day a high-ranking official assigned him a routine escort mission. He accepted it out of loyalty to the city.
The journey went smoothly… until the handover. One crate slipped. It cracked open. Hundreds of imperfect black gems spilled across the ground—gems strictly forbidden by Alliance law.
Furious, Oracio stepped forward to demand answers. Under the hooded cloaks, he glimpsed imperial armor. The Empire never left witnesses.
That night, a magical blast struck him full-force. The unstable gems detonated in a chain reaction. Imperial soldiers burned alongside him… or so they believed.
Oracio survived. Barely. His body was riddled with black gems fused to flesh and blood. Every heartbeat felt like a dull blade twisting inside him. He crawled back to the city on pure rage and unbreakable will. The Alliance's finest healers did the impossible: they saved his life. But the gems remained. Embedded. Painful. Alive.
The official responsible? A short prison sentence. For Oracio, it was the final insult. He quit the guard, vanished for five years, and returned a different man—stronger, colder. The gems had changed him; some whispered they had corrupted him. He gathered outcasts, the forgotten, the discarded, and founded Gamma: a bounty-hunting crew operating from the docks. They helped locals when it suited them… but mostly they hunted. Criminals. Fugitives. High-value targets.
Today his prey was Maven, the fugitive dragoness. But an imperial rat had wandered too close. Oracio caught him, searched him. Photos. Compromising documents. A feral grin split his face.
"No wonder you bastards were so cocky, you filthy rat. A special soldier and a priority target living right under our noses… and my target is staying with them. Haha… you really drew the short straw."
He leaned close to the trembling prisoner.
"Tell me, little rat… what's the most important thing? The one thing that comes before everything else?"
The soldier whispered in panic:
"Love…?"
A glacial silence fell. Then the sharp crack of a mana-powder shot. The rat slumped, permanently asleep.
Oracio holstered the weapon, calm—almost gentle.
"Another idiot who spoke before thinking. Still… he was a good informant. Thanks to him, I don't have one bounty. I have three. Good thing I didn't kill those three clowns yesterday."
"Boss… what do we do now?" Tyr-A-Nyk stammered, uneasy. "They've got a dangerous robot, the kid scorched us with fire… We already barely trapped the dragoness…"
Oracio burst into a hearty, reassuring laugh.
"No panic, boys. A good hunter doesn't charge in blind. They don't know Gamma. That's our edge. I've watched the robot: nothing special on the surface… but he wasn't really fighting. I can't judge his full strength yet. What we need is preparation. And Gamma has never lost a prepared fight, have we?"
Cheers erupted. Absolute trust.
Days passed. Oracio observed discreetly. Liora trained relentlessly—her magic growing stronger every day. Maven joined Eishen's mercenary jobs when she wasn't teaching Liora. Zirus turned their house into an impregnable fortress, cobbling together defense systems from scavenged parts. And Eishen himself was becoming a local legend: the steel-armed mercenary.
Across the continent, the Empire seethed. Prince Adrien and Zero suspected Eishen had eliminated their informant. Larra meditated in silence, waiting for the perfect moment to reclaim her sister.
Oracio gathered his crew.
"Everyone here? It's been a week of watching. They have routines that never change. They care too much about the long-eared kid. I'll send a team to grab her. I'll draw the other two into a trap. Everything's ready. Follow the plan and we win. According to my intel, only three of them have left or entered the house in a week. If everyone knows their role… we move. The bounties are ours. The Empire's money is ours!"
Soon after, a trio lurked outside the Noctaveil house.
"Grik: Bro… I'm not sure. Last time she hurt me real bad. I cried from the pain. What if we just… ignore Oracio? He's strong, but I'm not…"
Don stared at him, surprised. Van chimed in:
"Van: Grik's right, Don… If she's mastered her magic, we're dead. I don't wanna die."
Don placed a hand on each shoulder.
"Don: Don't forget, brothers. Paid or threatened—no job is too hard. One lucky kid isn't gonna make us eat dirt. Come on—let's go!"
The brothers nodded, morale restored. But above them, a discreet camera recorded everything. In the basement, Zirus—working late—watched the feed with a predatory smile.
"Well, well… uninvited guests. Perfect timing to test the defense grid."
With a dark chuckle, she activated the first protocols.
The infiltration had begun.
End of chapter.