**In the Auction Hall, still collapsed from Kran and Laticia's battle**
The heels of Laticia's boots clicked against the fractured floor as she walked away from Kran's dying form. "Sounds like there are multiple battles going on. I should've known the stupid government would try to use this opportunity to capture us both. But it seems one of your subordinates is dealing with whoever they sent," she said, her face twisting into an evil grin of anticipation.
"And down below, my little toys are fighting your brats. Your assistant went down with them, right? 'Diamond Fist' Clara? That could be an issue, but no matter—I have a special weapon to deal with her. A bio-engineered humanoid killing machine!" she announced, throwing her arms up as if conducting a choir of blood and screams instead of song.
Kran coughed, blood bubbling at his lips as he strained to look up. A struggling smirk remained on his face, annoying Laticia. "U-unfortunately for you… they'll all win," he exhaled, still clutching the grievous wound on his side. "Typically I'm logical… but that boy, Riko… he started a strange feeling in me. One of belief. B-but *cough*… it may also be wishful thinking. A cope for my failure."
Laticia gritted her teeth. "OH, SHUT YOUR BITCHY MOUTH, YOU HALF-DEAD BASTARD!" She raised her hand to kill him, then paused as a realization hit. Her expression softened into a cruel grin, and she lowered her arm. "No. I want you to sit there and suffer with that gaping wound. Thank the vitality of Marked Ones for why you're not dead already. But it's only a matter of time."
She leaned closer, her voice a venomous whisper. "Your bleeding is only slowing, not stopping. Your tissues aren't repairing at a decent rate. The physical regeneration of Marked Ones depends on our will to follow our passions. It's clear you barely have any interest left in thievery, so I'm not surprised. Just know your death is guaranteed within the next hour or two. Meaning I've had my revenge. Hahahaha!"
Kran managed one last, weak smile—a final taunt. "You're right about me… but not about them."
**The mid-level chambers of the underground fortress**
Albert paced through the wooden halls, leaping from pillar to pillar. Kiera ran behind him, the two having slipped into a narrow passage minutes earlier with the intent of navigating upward.
Albert's Passion Mark glowed a vibrant gold as blocks of the wall dislodged at his command, forming stepping stones as he bounded ahead. *The architecture in this fortress… it's overwhelming. Suffocating. So much gold, so much mural, so much jewelry and extravagant material. Only someone filthy rich would dare build like this.*
Kiera kept pace, clutching her bandaged weapon. Her purple hoodie and jeans were practical, her headphones dangling unused around her neck. Her eyebrows were narrowed in a mix of focus and anxiety. *It doesn't help that I know nothing about my teammate. But oh well. My unmatched power is more than enough,* Albert thought arrogantly, landing beside her as they advanced.
Suddenly, a group of Laticia's henchmen—neat in tuxedos but with predatory gazes—blocked the corridor. "That's the end of the line, pretty boy!" one shouted, opening fire.
Albert's Mark brightened. A section of the metal flooring tore upward, shielding them in a curved wall of steel. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly away.
"The fuck?! The bastard can control the floor?!" another henchman yelled.
Albert smirked and raised a finger, pointing upward. The men looked up, their faces twisting in horror as the ornate ceiling morphed. Gilded ornaments sharpened into blades and rained down; sections of plaster and wood solidified into heavy blocks that crushed the assailants beneath them. Their screams faded quickly, replaced by the sickening sound of crushing weight and the slow seep of blood from the rubble.
Kiera's eyes widened in disgust and fear. She took a step back, visibly shaken.
Albert looked back at her, his expression softening slightly as his Mark dimmed. "You're a Marked Mercenary. You've been one longer than me. This shouldn't be new. It was necessary."
Internally, Albert didn't take killing lightly. He felt disgust and pity, but he knew sentimentality toward those who showed none was a liability.
Kiera nodded, looking ashamed. She clutched her weapon tighter.
"I manipulate the architecture of this place. It's more my domain than Laticia's. We must keep moving. The others are likely locked in fierce battles. Our objective is to reach the Auction Hall above and eliminate Laticia," Albert declared, turning to lead the way.
Kiera was almost impressed by his conviction.
**The upper fortress, central monitor room**
"The mistress set us up! She knew what we were up against!" a man vented, staring at surveillance footage of Jetore and Seracore's battle with the Clortisax.
Beside him stood another guard wearing the same vest, but also the telltale iron collar of Laticia's enslavement. Tears streaked his face. "I just wanna be free again! I wanna go back to my kids and wife, goddammit!" he yelled, punching the wall in helpless frustration.
Before the first man could reply, the floor beneath them liquefied. Ren erupted from within, locking his arms around the man's head and executing a flawless suplex that knocked him cold.
"I-INTRUDER!!! AHHHH!!!" the collared guard screamed, fumbling for his pistol.
Ren flipped through the air, snatched the weapon mid-twist, and slammed the handle into the back of the man's head. He crumpled to the floor.
Ren landed smoothly, smirking beneath his black diver gear. His swimming goggles gleamed. "And that, ladies and gentlemen… is how it's DONE!" he exclaimed, as if bowing to an invisible crowd. *Good thing I wore those fake blood bags. Made it look like I was fatally wounded when that Emma girl shot me.*
He noticed the collar on the second man's neck. His smirk faded. *So even among her henchmen, she has slaves. People stripped of their will. That's just sick.*
A glowing monitor bank caught his eye. *This must be the control room. Cameras, trap controls… let's see…* He mashed buttons, scanning the digital feed.
His eyes widened at a recording of Jetore and Seracore's victory. *They actually beat a Clortisax? Together? Damn. I didn't think Seracore had it in him to work with anyone, let alone that punk Kran recruited.*
He continued digging. Files flashed by, each labeled "Item" but displaying human beings—slaves, numbered one to four hundred. *Bingo.* The screen displayed a map with a marked location: the holding cells for the trafficked slaves, kept in cages like livestock.
**Mid-level fortress, with Albert and Kiera**
"Restraining Asylum!" Albert declared. His golden Mark flared. The wooden beams in the lounge quarter bent and twisted; the floor transmuted, trapping a squad of Laticia's armed henchmen. The walls shifted to a stark white, sealing them inside a soundproof box until their screams dissipated.
Albert clenched his fist as the deed was done, breathing heavily. "This isn't beneficial. Kiera, you have to step out of your comfort zone. I understand fear, but it's necessary for us to work together."
Before she could answer, a hidden speaker crackled to life with an eccentric, enthusiastic voice.
"HEHAHAHAHA!!!! Welcome to today's show!! Today's stars: a pompous Architect prodigy and a shy little angel! Grab your popcorn, but try not to laugh! You'll choke!!"
A section of the wall dilated, forming a vacuum hole large enough to swallow a person. With a powerful *whoosh*, it sucked the air—and Albert and Kiera—into its maw before they could react.
*Shit! A trap! Was this part of the fortress's design, or was it planned for us?* Albert thought frantically as they plummeted down a dark tunnel.
They spilled out the other end, landing gracefully on a raised, circular stage. The room was vast, separated from the fortress's drab halls. It was designed like a circus tent, complete with bright stripes, spotlights, a high-wire tower, and dangling ropes. A giant, spinning dart board occupied one wall.
Unhinged laughter echoed. A figure dressed in garish clown makeup and a rainbow-colored costume stepped into the light. A shimmering, ethereal collar was visible on his neck—Laticia's mark.
"Well, well! I was hopin' for a flashier entrance! Full of crying, screaming, or fiery explosions! But you two bored me!" he said, juggling colored balls.
Albert stepped forward, eyeing the man with disdain. "Who are you? And what's with the ridiculous outfit?"
The clown smirked, flourishing with a bow. "I'm your show runner! Jackky the Clown! Yes, ladies and gentlemen! Hell yeah! I used to be a well-known clown—my circus shows toured the country! Until that witch Laticia captured me and forced me to work under her. I don't mind, though! If it means I can have even more FUN!"
In a fluid motion, he hopped onto a unicycle and produced four knives, clasped between his fingers. He pedaled forward and threw them with alarming accuracy.
Kiera reacted instantly, dodging to the side. The knives whizzed past her and thudded into the wall behind.
Albert's Mark glowed. The floorboards beneath Jackky ripped loose and slammed into him, knocking the wind from his lungs and smashing him against the wall. A gash opened on his forehead.
"A pathetic display," Albert said, fists clenched. "And you're fine with being a slave? You're just a pawn to Laticia. That collar proves it. Sometimes she lets her slaves keep their sense of self, it seems. But why accept it?"
Kiera's eyes widened. It was true. Jakky had the same collar as the other slaves, yet he retained his manic personality.
Before she could ponder further, Jakky struggled to his knees, coughing blood. His creepy smile never wavered. "Gah… heh! Expected that from you, Albert Erecus! I know I can't beat any Marked One like this. You're all super fuckin' strong! With your wacky powers… but—" His grin widened. "Look behind you. Those knives the girl dodged… know where they landed?"
Albert and Kiera turned. A spotlight snapped on, illuminating not a wall, but a woman strapped to a wheel. She was no older than thirty, dressed in tattered circus attire, her mouth sealed with tape. The four knives were buried in her torso. She was utterly still, a dark stain spreading across her costume.
"HAhAHAAHAHAHA!!! That's right! She was alive seconds ago! Until you dodged! You killed her! WHAT A SHOW, HUH? FUHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Jakky laughed psychotically, dancing a jig amidst the grotesque stage.
Kiera's hands flew to her mouth. She fell to her knees, horror and guilt washing over her.
Albert's composure shattered. With a roar, he dashed toward Jakky, a kick aimed at his chest.
Jakky spat, his tongue lolling. The room itself seemed to come alive. Hidden traps triggered—blades swung from the rafters, spinning saws emerged from the floor, giant beach balls dropped from above. A macabre wheel of corpses began to spin in the background, accompanied by the cheerful, tinny music of a children's cartoon.
Jakky leaped back, grabbed a rope, and swung into a mid-air flip, landing precariously on a small wooden tower. "I heard traps were your thing, Architect! Let's see how you deal with MINE! And with such a hilariously shaken mute girl on your team!"
**Back in the collapsed Auction Hall**
Laticia sat on a half-broken, gold-plated throne, eyeing Kran's defeated form. Her chains slithered around her like serpents. "My apologies, Erenor. I forgot to mention that your brats will probably come across Jakky the Clown. You've heard of him, right? He's hilarious!"
Kran's single open eye widened weakly. He conserved his breath.
"He was a popular clown. His shows brought joy and laughter across Cryohara… until he revealed himself to be quite the sick little bastard. Murdered fellow performers. Used their body parts in his acts with no one the wiser. Oh! Just my type, hah!" she said, clapping her hands softly. "Even after I enslaved him, he didn't care, as long as he could continue his hobby. So I let him keep his personality. He's got a nice little death dungeon in my fortress that he calls his circus. I'm sure your brats are going to have quite the fun."
Kran could only grit his teeth, his fading consciousness filled with a new, icy dread.