The city breathed in silence.
Above, neon lights flickered like dying stars. Below, the streets pulsed with unseen movements—shadows shifting, eyes watching, whispers threading through the cracks of a world that Korir Hiroto barely understood.
He and Zero moved like ghosts through the back alleys, their bodies aching, their clothes torn from the battle. The cold air stung against Korir's sweat-drenched skin, but he forced himself to keep up.
He had to.
The fight with Leo wasn't over in his head. The way Zero moved—the precision, the merciless efficiency—it haunted him.
And worst of all…
They had been watched.
Zero stopped at a rusted door, nearly hidden between two crumbling buildings. He knocked—twice, a pause, then three times.
A deep, metallic click.
The door swung open, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling downward into the abyss.
Zero glanced at Korir.
"Inside. Now."
Korir hesitated for only a second. Then he stepped through.
The door slammed shut behind them.
A single light flickered above. The room was wide, but the low ceiling made it feel suffocating. Old maps, weapons, and files lay scattered across metal tables, and a large board on the wall was covered in photos and red string—a hunter's web of connections.
Zero dropped into a chair, exhaling. He pulled out a knife, spinning it between his fingers.
Korir, still catching his breath, stared.
"That wasn't normal." His voice was hoarse. "None of that was normal."
Zero smirked, his sharp blue eyes glinting. "Welcome to my world."
Korir clenched his fists. "No. I need to understand. Who the hell were those guys? And why do they want us dead?"
Zero tapped his knife against the table. "Not 'us.' You."
Korir stiffened.
"But you fought them too—"
"Because I don't like their kind breathing."
Zero leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His tone dropped.
"You don't get it yet, Korir. Mombasa Mabas isn't just a gang. It's a kingdom. A hidden empire that controls more than you can imagine."
He pointed at the board behind him. Dozens of faces, names, and symbols were pinned in chaotic order.
"They're divided into troops—seventy-six of them."
Korir frowned. "Seventy-six?"
Zero nodded. "And the lower the number, the more terrifying they become."
Zero lifted a finger. "Troops 51 to 76? Still deadly, but they're more like foot soldiers. Trained killers, but not irreplaceable."
Another finger. "Troops 31 to 50? They start to get real nasty. Some of them have abilities that make them walking disasters."
A third finger. "Troops 11 to 30? These are the ones you run from. War criminals, assassins, freaks who shouldn't exist."
His expression darkened as he lifted a fourth. "Troops 1 to 10?" His voice turned cold. "They're legends. No one even whispers their names unless they want to die."
He leaned back, spinning the knife again. "Leo was from Troop 8. And he was far from the worst."
Korir's stomach twisted. Troop 8.
Zero's cold smirk returned."And you impressed him."
Korir's heart skipped a beat.
"What… does that mean?"
Zero tossed the knife, embedding it into the board with a dull thunk.
"It means you've just become their favorite prey.
A deep silence settled between them.
Korir exhaled, gripping his knees. "Then I need to get stronger."
Zero raised an eyebrow.
Korir's fists clenched. "I don't want to be hunted. I don't want to run forever."
Zero studied him for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. I'll teach you the basics of Timeshift."
Korir blinked. "Wait—seriously?"
Zero's smirk widened. "You survived a chase from a troop leader. That's worth something."
He rose to his feet, walking over. "Close your eyes."
Korir hesitated but obeyed.
"Feel the air around you. Time isn't a line. It's a storm. Most people drift through it like leaves."
His voice lowered.
"But us?"
A shockwave pulsed through the room.
Korir's breath hitched. His body froze—but not because he was scared.
Because for the briefest second…
The world stopped moving.
His heart hammered as the sensation faded.
Zero stepped back.
"That was your first taste of the battlefield."
Korir's breath was shaky.
"I want more."
Zero grinned. "You will. But not tonight. You're not ready."
Far above the city, standing on a rooftop bathed in moonlight, a figure watched.
His black coat billowed in the wind.
Golden eyes glowed faintly against the darkness.
His lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.
Beric.
Troop 19's leader.
He had seen everything.
And now?
He was interested.
"Zero… you're more troublesome than I thought."
He turned.
And in a blink—he was gone.