Outer City Marketplace, Imperial Capital
A thug wearing a wide-brimmed hat kicked open the door to a rundown fishmonger's home.
"Old Jack! It's already the second day—how long are you planning to delay?"
On a shabby wooden bed, a limping old man struggled to sit up. His face was full of pleading.
"Boss Harlan, there must be a mistake… Yesterday I gave all the money to your man, Daniel. He said we were square."
"Bullshit!"
Harlan's eyes gleamed with cruelty as his brow arched.
"Old Jack, don't tell me you're trying to get out of paying?"
Without waiting for a response, he stomped on old Jack's face.
"Speak! Where are you hiding your money?"
Old Jack cried out in agony, clutching Harlan's boot with both hands.
"Boss Harlan, I swear! I have nothing left—please, show mercy!"
"I only borrowed two gold coins from your Blackfish Gang, and I've paid back twenty! Isn't that enough?"
Harlan sneered coldly and drove his heel down again.
What followed was a scream so bloodcurdling it made the neighbors flinch behind their doors.
But suddenly—
From under the bed, a small figure darted out, lunging straight for Harlan and biting into his arm with all her might.
"Let go of my dad, you villain!"
Harlan let out a strangled howl and looked down in shock.
"Well, well! So your daughter's already grown up, huh?"
He grabbed her arm and sneered, "Let me borrow her for a few nights, and we'll call your debt settled."
Ignoring old Jack's desperate pleas, he dragged the crying girl out of the house with a swagger in his step.
All around, the neighbors kept their heads down, not daring to interfere.
They knew all too well the price of crossing the Blackfish Gang.
This kind of scene was tragically common. In fact, this time they thought the gang had gone easy.
Usually, if the Blackfish Gang set their sights on someone, it was a full package: robbery, kidnapping, and a whole-family slaughter.
For the fish-selling couple to survive this long? That was mercy—by the gang's twisted standards.
Scenes like this played out daily in the outer city.
Blackfish Gang Headquarters
The gang's deputy looked nervously at the bald brute sitting across from him.
"Boss… aren't we going a bit too far?"
"This is still within Cardinal Austin's territory. If we keep this up, won't we draw his ire?"
The bald gang leader just scoffed.
"What's there to be afraid of? You think the one who sent us here didn't know about Cardinal Austin?"
"My guess? Either he already worked something out with Austin… or he is Austin."
"Besides, if they really wanted to stop us, how would they keep getting emergency funding from the Ministry of Finance?"
The deputy still looked uneasy.
"What if they're just using us? Once we've served our purpose, they'll cut us loose without a second thought."
The bald man went silent, clearly mulling it over.
But just then—
A crisp, mocking voice echoed from the entrance.
"Bennett, you're overthinking again."
"You're weak as a pigeon and scared like one too."
Three men strolled in, dressed in luxurious silk robes.
Their appearance instantly changed the atmosphere in the room. A crushing pressure settled over everyone present.
The bald man and his deputy immediately lowered their heads and bowed.
These newcomers were no ordinary men.
They hadn't revealed their identities, but the aura they exuded left no doubt: they were awakeners.
Even the bald gang leader—who ruled the underworld with an iron fist—didn't dare show disrespect.
It was thanks to these three that the Blackfish Gang had been able to seize so much territory in so little time.
The leader of the trio, a cold-eyed youth with chestnut curls, spoke plainly:
"Your job is to keep stirring chaos in the outer city. When the time is right, you'll be allowed to leave."
"So long as you stay obedient, I'll make sure you're rewarded."
His words carried a casual arrogance, yet it only made the gang leader more submissive.
"Yes, sir," the bald man said with a flattering smile, though a flicker of caution flashed in his eyes.
He knew how awakeners treated normal people. He'd grown up in the slums, seen their cruelty firsthand.
But refusing wasn't an option. Not now.
The youth continued,
"In the next few days, escalate your activities.
If the capital descends into chaos, the Minister of Finance will be forced to unlock the military budget."
"And that decrepit Secretary-General Winston will have to beg for funds from the palace."
"Which means the royal family's situation becomes even more precarious."
The bald gang leader bowed again.
"Rest assured, sir—we've already deployed men throughout the city. As soon as the time is right, we'll strike hard."
"I promise, you won't be disappointed."
The youth nodded slightly, a wicked grin tugging at his lips.
"The royal family is finished. They're just pawns now, waiting to be sacrificed."
"But it's always fun to toy with them before they die."
The bald man chuckled along, ready to flatter him again—
But he never noticed the faint breeze that had just begun to stir.
And in the very next second—
A dagger pierced straight through the deputy's heart!
Blood gushed across the floor as the room froze in collective shock.
No one had seen the attacker. No one understood what just happened.
Another breeze.
Another flicker of motion.
The youth's face twisted with sudden tension.
"Assassins!" he shouted, lightning crackling around his arm as he chased toward the vanishing blur.
He took one step—then stumbled.
A faint chill spread from his left thigh.
Before he could react, blinding pain exploded through his leg.
"AAARGH!"
He collapsed with a shriek, blood spraying like a fountain from his torn muscle.
The other two awakeners moved to defend themselves, channeling their power—
But before they could act, two shadows emerged behind them.
In an instant, both had their legs severed at the knees.
The trio of awakeners writhed on the floor, screaming in agony.
The bald gang leader turned pale, paralyzed with fear.
"What the hell is happening?"
"Ghosts… are these the legendary ghosts?"
His forehead was soaked in cold sweat.
How could assassins infiltrate a guarded base like this?
And not just any assassins—ones that moved like phantoms, as if born of wind itself.
He ran.
He ran like the coward he was, desperate to survive.
But he barely took two steps—
Before a dagger plunged straight through his throat from behind.
As he collapsed, choking on his own blood, he finally glimpsed the figure that had killed him.
A shadow—hidden within the breeze itself.
Who were they?
Whose men could strike so silently, so ruthlessly, without leaving a trace?