The room still burned with the breath of death.
I hadn't cleaned my blade. Blood still dripped from its metal edge. But in front of Vassago, I didn't need added intimidation.
He knew who I was.
We sat on two rusted metal chairs, in a backroom lined with frayed cables and flickering monitors that pulsed dimly. Maeve would've hated this place—too primitive, too noisy. But this was Vassago's domain—and in the world of shadows, sometimes information crawled out from holes like this.
He lit a cigarette slowly, staring at me in silence.
"I should've sent cannons, not men," he muttered. "But even that might not have been enough, huh?"
I didn't answer.
"There's only one person who can cost me this much and still live," he continued, "and he's sitting right in front of me now."
I slid a small case toward him. The scrape of it echoed sharp and clean.
"Cash. Digital gold. Level-3 access to the Singapore black market. It's all yours."
Vassago raised an eyebrow. "And all this just for... a name?"
"Not just a name," I replied coldly. "But a living shadow. I know The Emperor was behind the crash. I know they wanted me broken before I could return. And I know you know where to start looking."
Vassago laughed—not with joy, but like a long-buried fear trying to hide behind sarcasm.
"You're insane," he said. "The Emperor isn't just an organization. He's a system. A ghost behind the entire architecture of the underworld."
"His name," I demanded.
"I don't have one," he replied quickly. "No one does. Even I only know him through the scars he left behind. But..."
He opened a small terminal, scanned his finger, and a grim screen flickered to life.
"...I have a location. One place. No one comes back from it. I sent three teams. None returned."
He looked at me with eyes darker than before. "But you... you're not them."
The screen displayed coordinates. Cold. Remote. Nameless. That's where, according to Vassago, The Emperor breathes.
I memorized that point—not just on the map. But in my heart.
"I don't care if it's a trap. I just want answers."
Vassago crushed his cigarette. "Then," he said softly, "may you die in spectacular fashion."
I stood. No thanks. Just shadows. Only one thing remained:
to destroy the darkness at its highest root.