A man stood near the edge of the wooden gate — calm, steady, his presence alone carried weight. His eyes were old yet patient, his beard rough and unshaven, and his coat worn from travel. He looked at Aron quietly, his figure slightly taller, but not by much — just enough to cast a shadow across Aron's face.
Aron: "Do I know you, sir?"
The stranger's lips curved slightly, his voice dry as dust.
Stranger: "Can you help me with food? I have no money."
Aron blinked once, then nodded without hesitation. "Come with me."
He guided the man through the narrow path beside his home, a faint scent of wood and dust lingering in the air. Inside, the dim light of evening fell across shelves lined with sacks. Aron opened one corner — his charitable storage — a place he'd built to help those in need. He fetched a bag filled with rice and another with wheat.
The man's eyes softened. "Thank you," he said. "This will easily last for a month."
Before Aron could reply, the stranger turned and walked away. His footsteps faded slowly… until they vanished completely — as if he had never been there.
Elsewhere.
The night was cold, the streets empty. The sound of the wind brushed against the walls of the abandoned bar — the same bar where Hikauchi had been murdered. The moon hung low, its faint glow touching the bloodstained memory of that place.
A man crouched near the floor, examining every inch with sharp eyes. Zord.
He moved carefully, wearing gloves, tracing his fingers over a thin line of dried red that had been nearly scrubbed away. It was faint, yet not gone — a slight edge on the wooden floor.
He lifted his hand closer to the light. The blood shimmered faintly under it.
Zord murmured, "This… isn't ordinary."
After a brief test using a small vial from his coat, the liquid reacted. A dark shimmer ran through it, black smoke twisting briefly before disappearing.
Zord: "Poison… mixed with blood."
His eyes narrowed. "Hikauchi's blood… but something more dangerous runs through it."
He stood up, straightening his coat. "Since Hikauchi was killed by a knife, the blade must have carried this poison — but not any regular poison. The dark energy strengthens its potency. Whoever used it… knew exactly what they were doing."
He exhaled softly, his voice almost fading with the wind.
Zord: "Something hideous is happening. This might convince Trail, but I'll need the others' blood… and their bodies, too."
The shadows thickened around him. In the blink of an eye, Zord stepped into the dark alley — and disappeared like a ghost swallowed by night.
Meanwhile, far away — inside a dimly lit office — Trail sat back on his chair. His hat covered part of his face, hiding his expression. The room was quiet except for the faint ticking of a wall clock.
Suddenly, the window creaked open. A bird swooped in, landing on the wooden desk, carrying a small message tied to its leg.
Trail slowly sat upright and untied it. The seal was unfamiliar, a golden insignia from Luxorious.
He opened the letter and read silently:
"I have found the heir of Norm."
His eyes widened slightly. He leaned back, sighing in relief.
Trail: "Thank God… at least one is safe."
The moment lingered — then came a knock on the door.
Trail's voice cut through the silence. "Come in."
The door opened slowly, letting in a gust of cold air. Zord stepped inside, his coat slightly swaying, his presence heavy — almost suffocating.
Trail tilted his hat up. "Zord?"
Trail: "Have you found anything? The meaning behind all this?"
Zord: "I have," he replied. "But it's complicated. You want to hear it?"
Trail straightened himself. "Speak." His voice turned firm.
Zord walked closer, placing a folded piece of paper on the desk. Inside was a small glass tube, holding something dark and thick.
Zord: "The recent murders — the three elites. Today, I re-examined the bar where Hikauchi died. This is what I found."
Trail squinted. "Blood? That's Hikauchi's? But it's been two weeks since his death. How is it still—"
Zord: "Exactly," he interrupted. "That's the question. Why isn't the blood dried up?"
He uncorked the vial slightly, letting a faint scent fill the room — metallic and bitter.
Zord: "The poison inside this blood allows the body to keep functioning after death, though slowly weakening everything from the inside. And with the dark energy amplifying its potency… it can be controlled."
Trail frowned. "Zord… say it in simple words."
Zord looked him dead in the eye. His voice dropped lower.
"Hikauchi was already dead long before he reached the bar. The poison killed him days earlier. The knife? Just for show — to make it look like a regular murder."
Trail's breath hitched. "So someone staged it. But why? Why not just control others… like us?"
Zord shook his head. "No. You're thinking wrong. This poison isn't just lethal — it's smart. It kills slowly, almost silently. And maybe…" he paused, his tone darkening, "maybe one of us is already infected. Who knows?"
A heavy silence filled the room.
Then Zord continued, "There's more. I examined the other bodies. Their wounds, their blood — all point to the same hand. Someone inside the government is helping the darkness."
Trail's jaw tightened. "Rogard. I knew it. I fought that black wolf once. I had the chance to kill him — to avenge her death…"
Zord's eyes flickered. "I don't care who it is. What interests me most…" he said, lowering his tone, "…is that someone is playing with us. Someone from the shadows."
He turned slightly, muttering almost to himself, "Zeiris Steins…"
The name echoed faintly in the room, cold as the wind that slipped through the open window.
He adjusted his gloves, preparing to leave. "I should go now, Trail. There's a lot I need to check. But listen — take this."
He handed Trail a small glass of clear water.
Zord: "If you ever feel weak or dizzy, drink it. It'll slow the poison down, if it's already in you."
Trail nodded slowly, taking it. "Thank you… you've been a good friend."
Zord's hand paused at the doorknob. Without turning, he said quietly,
"Remember our old talk… it's all about consequences."
Then he shut the door hard. The sound echoed like thunder in the lonely room, leaving a gust of air swirling behind him.
Trail sat still for a moment, staring at the glass in his hand — the reflection of the moon rippling across it. He muttered softly, "Consequences, huh…?"
Outside, Zord vanished into the night again, his silhouette fading into mist. Something was right. Something was wrong.
And the darkness — it was closer than they thought.