Introduction

During a TRANSCENDA team strategy meeting, the team discussed the intense security measures of Shadowbane, and Quincy's behavior was especially suspicious. He fidgeted, his fingers trembling slightly, and wore a strained expression as if he were about to say something.

After the meeting, Harold happened to catch sight of Quincy on the security cameras, heading toward the back exit. Driven by instinct, Harold decided to follow him. In a deserted back alley, he saw Quincy meeting with a man in a black suit. It was there that Harold discovered the truth—Quincy was a spy for Shadowbane and had been ordered to recruit Harold into the organization within 48 hours.

1.Quincy's True Identity

A heavy silence filled TRANSCENDA's command room. The three large monitors displayed the latest intel on Shadowbane, casting an icy glow across the tense expressions of the team members.

"Shadowbane's defenses are impenetrable," Roy said, studying the map intently. "A frontal assault is out of the question."

As the discussion continued, Harold couldn't help but notice Quincy's unusual behavior. Lately, he'd been acting strangely, but today, his expression was clouded more deeply than ever, as though shadowed by a weight only he could feel. Every time a facility blueprint appeared on the monitor, Harold saw Quincy's fingers tremble ever so slightly—an almost imperceptible movement that no one else seemed to notice. It reminded Harold of a cornered animal, edgy and desperate.

"There might be a chance if we approach from the rear," Harold suggested, typing rapidly to display the building's blind spots on the screen. "We could exploit the security system's weaknesses."

Quincy glanced up, his gaze reflecting a conflicted, almost haunted look that Harold didn't miss. He seemed on the verge of speaking, but the words never came. This was not the Quincy he once knew.

When the meeting ended, and the silence of the night settled over the city, Harold found himself shutting down the equipment in the command room. A flash of movement caught his eye on one of the security feeds—Quincy heading toward the back exit. His steps were slow, as though burdened by something invisible. Acting on instinct, Harold quickly powered down and followed his friend out into the night.

Keeping a safe distance, Harold shadowed Quincy down the darkened streets, careful to avoid the pools of light cast by the street lamps. Heart pounding, he studied the tense set of Quincy's shoulders, noticing a hint of urgency in his stride. Finally, Quincy entered a deserted alley where a man in a black suit waited, his figure shadowed by the dim glow of an old building. Harold slipped into the shadows, listening closely.

"You're late," the man's cold voice broke the silence.

"My apologies," Quincy replied, but it wasn't the cheerful tone Harold knew. It was filled with a tension that seemed foreign coming from his friend. "The strategy meeting ran long…"

"No excuses," the man cut in, his tone harsh. "Orders from above are clear. We're running out of time." He paused. "And Harold?"

Quincy's voice faltered. "I need more time…"

"No more delays," the man said coldly. "You have forty-eight hours to deliver. Fail, and you know the consequences."

Harold felt a chill run down his spine. Just then, a small stone rolled beneath his foot, echoing faintly in the alleyway. In an instant, the man in the suit vanished into the shadows.

Quincy turned slowly, his face illuminated by the faint street light. His gaze met Harold's, dark and burdened, a look filled with resignation. It was a face Harold barely recognized.

"Harold…" Quincy's voice wavered in the night breeze. A heavy silence hung between them. The time for secrets had come to an end.

2.The Confrontation

The cold night wind swept through the alley, intensifying the tension between them. The streetlight flickered, casting shifting, fractured shadows on the ground between them.

"What's with the look, Harold?" Quincy tried to keep his tone light, but his voice betrayed him, strained and uncertain. "Did something happen?"

Shaking fingers. A forced smile. Every gesture screamed desperation.

"That conversation… what was that about?" Harold took a step forward, watching as Quincy averted his gaze. His face, caught in the streetlight, seemed to waver at the boundary of shadow and light.

Harold paused, then took another step closer. "Quincy, are you really one of us?" His quiet voice pierced the night. "Or… are you a spy for Shadowbane?"

The words cut through the silence, and in that instant, Quincy's strained smile vanished, replaced by a look of raw anguish. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words caught in his throat.

"Am I supposed to take your silence as confirmation?" Harold's voice grew colder. "You've been lying to us all this time… to Tria, to everyone, and to me!"

"Shut up!!" Quincy's shout tore through the darkness. "What do you know?! I never wanted any of this!"

His voice was laced with emotions he had kept hidden. His fists trembled, and his eyes shone with the beginnings of tears.

"If I betray Shadowbane, they'll kill me! And if that happens… if that happens, I'm…"

"How long are you going to let them control you?" Harold's voice rose, fury igniting within him. "Quincy! Are you really okay with that?"

In that moment, something broke in Quincy's eyes. With a roar, he charged at Harold. But as he closed the distance, Harold saw the tears streaming down Quincy's face—tears that held all his suffering, his fear of Shadowbane, his guilt toward his friends, and, above all, his self-loathing.

"I can't…!" Quincy's voice trembled as he swung, each word heavy with despair. "I can't keep…!"

3.The Fight for Real

In the deserted alley, two shadows clashed with intensity. Quincy's charging punch was barely caught by Harold's forearm, and the impact made him gasp. Trained by Shadowbane, Quincy's punches carried the weight of real combat experience—but Harold could feel the hesitation within that strength.

"What the hell are you doing, Quincy?" Harold yelled, delivering a punch of his own. "Are you really okay with this?"

"Shut up!" Quincy's voice was raw and frayed. "What else am I supposed to do?"

Their fists collided, each blow bringing a jolt of pain. But the ache in their chests was even worse. Quincy's fists held anger and sorrow; Harold's held disappointment and despair.

"We trusted you!" Harold's left hook grazed Quincy's cheek. "We believed in you!"

"You think I don't know that?" Quincy's right hook struck Harold in the chest. "Of course I do!"

The fight went on, their shadows bending and shifting in the streetlight's glow. Sweat flew, blood seeped from scrapes, and the sound of their fists cutting through the air and their ragged breaths filled the quiet night.

"Shadowbane… it was everything to me," Quincy muttered, his movements slowing. "But…"

"It's not anymore, is it?" Harold seized the moment, throwing his full strength into a punch. "You have us now—you have real friends!"

His fist struck Quincy square in the face, sending him staggering back. But the look in Quincy's eyes wasn't one of hatred; it was a look of deep sadness.

"I know…" Quincy's voice quivered. "I know, but…!"

As they both threw one final punch, their fists landed on each other's faces at the same time. The impact sent both of them reeling backward, bodies momentarily airborne before crashing to the ground together.

Lying there, staring up at the night sky, they panted heavily, blood trickling from their lips and aches radiating throughout their bodies. Yet, amid the pain, they each felt something heavy begin to dissolve within them.

"Haah… haah…"

Only the sound of their labored breathing disturbed the silence. Turning his head, Harold saw Quincy beside him, also out of breath. The anguish that had shadowed his face moments ago was gone, replaced by deep exhaustion and a sense of resigned acceptance.

The night breeze swept between them, and they both felt something shift—something unspoken that had finally taken a new shape, forged in the honesty of their fists.

4.True Friendship

After a moment of silence, Quincy was the first to start laughing. At first, it was just a small chuckle, but it grew louder and louder until he was laughing so hard he had to clutch his sides, almost rolling on the ground. It was a laugh tinged with a bittersweet release, as if a weight he'd carried for years had finally lifted.

"What's so funny?" Harold asked, trying to sound exasperated, but somehow Quincy's laughter was infectious. Slowly, Harold found himself smiling, and before he knew it, the two of them were laughing together under the starlit sky.

"Haha… what the hell are we even doing?" Quincy said, wiping away tears. He couldn't tell anymore whether they were tears of laughter or something deeper.

"Why are you so damn stubborn, Harold? Anyone else would've just left me behind by now. That would've been the smart thing to do."

"Who says?" Harold replied, looking up at the stars. "Who decided that's how things are supposed to work? We've been through too much together. From the day we met in Velforia, you were my partner. My friend."

The word "partner" struck a chord deep within Quincy. No one in Shadowbane had ever called him that. There, everyone treated each other as tools, mere means to an end.

"You idiot," Quincy said, his voice trembling. "I was a spy. I tricked you and tried to pull you into my world. Someone like me…"

"So what?" Harold looked him straight in the eyes. "Yes, you were a spy. But I know the night we swore to protect this city, you meant it. I can feel it—there was something real in that promise."

Quincy felt a tightening in his chest. All the coldness and detachment he'd learned at Shadowbane, the mask he wore as a spy—it all felt like it was melting under the warmth of Harold's sincerity.

"Damn it…" Quincy muttered, covering his face with his hand. "Why… why do you have so much faith in me?"

"Because," Harold answered softly, with a gentle smile. "You're my friend."

With those words, the last wall within Quincy's heart crumbled. The distrust and fear instilled in him since he was a child, the lesson that no one could be trusted—all of it fell apart.

"Harold…" Quincy managed to say, still smiling. "You're the best partner anyone could ask for. I swear, I'm done with betrayal. I'm done being Shadowbane's tool. From now on, I'm going to live by my own will."

A cool night breeze ruffled their hair, and the stars above shone brighter than ever. Quincy's resolve felt like the first light of a new dawn.

"Alright." Harold stood up, extending a hand to Quincy. "Let's go. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Quincy took his hand and rose slowly to his feet. They looked at each other and nodded in silent understanding. No words were needed anymore. They had forged a true bond—a friendship that had survived the clash of fists and revealed a deeper connection than either had ever known.