Fellas, I'll keep it short.

I took up a new internship the past few days and it's eating up my weekdays time.

Anyways, I tried really hard to make this as fast as possible.

I'm gonna get it out of the way: sorry it's shit. It has all the core elements I wanted to add but I'm gonna need to edit it later to have all the styles. I also wanted to add a lot more pictures but time. Eh.

His First Evolution

The rhythmic hum of machinery filled the dimly lit laboratory, a constant, mechanical whisper that never ceased. The air was thick with the scent of sterilizing agents and metallic tang, underscored by the occasional flicker of sparks from unfinished projects scattered across the room. The walls were lined with an array of devices, many half-built or in a state of disrepair, tubes and wires snaking across the floor like the limbs of some slumbering beast.

Stylish stood at the center of it all, hands folded neatly in front of him, his expression unreadable behind the gleam of his glasses. He had spoken the words with a crisp finality, letting them settle in the air between them.

"I'm sorry."

The sentence carried a strange weight, despite its clinical delivery. He allowed the silence to stretch, a moment for it to sink in before continuing.

"I've simulated the poison's behavior the best I could and implanted every known combination of immunization techniques and beyond… but 2 days is far too little to come up with anything meaningful."

Another pause, this one even heavier than the last. Stylish was not a man accustomed to failure. And yet, here he was, admitting defeat.

Across from him, Esdeath stood like an unmoving statue of ice, her arms crossed, her expression impassive. Only the sharp glint in her eyes betrayed the gravity of the situation. When she finally spoke, her voice was devoid of emotion, as smooth and cold as polished steel.

"What do you have then, Stylish?"

Her demeanor betrayed not even the slightest amount of concern, even if those words worried her deeply. "You didn't call me here to tell me you failed… did you?"

Stylish didn't respond immediately. Instead, he lifted a gloved hand, straightening the collar of his coat with an air of deliberation. His sharp eyes glimmered behind his glasses, reflecting the cold glow of the laboratory's lights.

"Although it utterly shames my honor as a scientist, I know when I must throw in the towel and find an alternative solution…"

His coat flared as he turned, striding toward the back of the room where a large, unfinished pod stood. Unlike the other machinery in the lab, this one had yet to be fully assembled—exposed wires dangled from its open panels, and the metallic interior gleamed under the sterile lighting. The sight of it sent an involuntary chill through Tatsumi's spine.

Stylish walked to its left where a table was. On it, he picked out a small vial of a bluish liquid - it's color similar to Esdeath's hair.

"Do you see this, Tatsumi?" He asked.

Tatsumi, who was sitting in the lab, nodded.

"This, you see, it's a culmination of years of scientific effort. Scientists long before me have meticulously sampled the source of our commander's strength - the Demon's Extract." There was a brief pause, as if Stylish were savoring the moment.

"But we have utterly failed to understand its properties. It is like true magic… yet components such as these… are the fruits of many mighty minds working together to understand it. We call this liquid… the Ageless!"

"The Ageless…?" Tatsumi echoed.

"Indeed… its a popular and extremely expensive wonder drug known only among the elites of the elites of nobility… It's effects, simply put, massively slow down your heart rate while reducing the rate of cell division… you would get to live much longer. Even the prime minister partakes in this luxury."

'Of course.' Tatsumi thought bitterly. 'No wonder he so brazenly claims he can live to 130.'

"What I therefore propose is this… have either of you heard of the practice of cryostasis?"

Esdeath's brow raised. "You want to freeze Tatsumi?"

"And the poison as well." Stylish finished. "We'd extend his time in the living by completely immobilizing his bodily functions - until I can develop a cure for this dreadful toxin."

He gestured toward the pod with a dramatic flourish. "Here, he will be kept frozen from the clutches of time!"

A sudden sharp jolt of pain flared in Tatsumi's right eye, causing him to wince.

'Yeah, yeah.' He thought to himself. 'I know.'

Esdeath, meanwhile, brought a hand to her chin, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against her skin.

"From the clutches of time…" She repeated.

Stylish turned back to Tatsumi, his voice solemn.

"Tatsumi… as a scientist, I say this with full confidence: this is your only ticket to survival. This is a very costly procedure made only possible due to commander Esdeath's heavy contributions… a commoner could never dream to have such an operation performed on them."

Esdeath, standing beside Tatsumi, beamed him a radiant, almost smug smile.

"Well… gee… thanks so much…" Tatsumi stammered, rubbing the back of his head.

He had long since learned to tread carefully around Esdeath's affections. Her presence alone was overbearing, but when she was feeling particularly fond, it was suffocating.

"Even so, you must wait nearly 2 days for the completion of this pod. Not to worry, it should be done early on the day and I predict you should have plenty of time to spare and extend."

Tatsumi nodded solemnly. "I see."

Esdeath placed her hand on Tatsumi's shoulder, making him flinch. "I don't like the idea of sealing you away for an unknown amount of time, Tatsumi… but if it means you live, I would have to tell you to do this."

"I… uh… thank you…?"

Stylish adjusted his glasses once more, the lenses flashing as he observed the interaction.

By now, it was no secret among the Jaegers that Esdeath harbored an overwhelming fascination—no, an adoration—for Tatsumi.

And Stylish… well, he could not comprehend it.

To him, Esdeath was the epitome of ruthlessness, a force of nature unburdened by sentimentality or weakness. She was a stylish character, bold, untamed, and utterly commanding.

Yet here she was, openly displaying affection for this boy.

Stylish did find Tatsumi interesting, yes. The young warrior possessed remarkable tenacity, and there was no doubt he had potential. But to capture the heart of Esdeath herself? That was beyond his understanding.

In truth, he disliked it.

The idea of Esdeath succumbing to something as mundane as infatuation disgusted him. It was unseemly. It detracted from her presence, from her style.

Shoving those thoughts aside, Stylish turned back to Tatsumi, his voice brisk.

"So, I will give you my assignment, Tatsumi: return here in two days."

Anthelm's knuckles whitened as he gripped the letter, the paper crumpling slightly under the force of his grip. His breath came in slow, measured huffs, but the slight tremor in his hands betrayed the fury roiling inside him. His facial muscles tightened, knotting into an ugly mask of barely concealed rage as he read the words over and over again, each sentence stoking the fire burning in his gut.

"

Captain Anthelm of the Southern Districts public safety,

The ministry holds high regard for your excellent work in keeping the order of the Capital. Your diligence served the Empire wonderfully allowing the citizens of our city to live in secured peace.

The Empire is forever indebted to your tireless efforts in preserving the Empire's standard of living. The ministry shall remember your efforts in gratitude but must now insist that your position be handed over to another in light of the recent crisises. So that you may be rewarded with a peaceful retirement for your efforts, you are hereby, with the authority of the crown, commanded to find a replacement for your position and to be relieved by the end of the second month-"

Relieved.

Anthelm's vision darkened with fury.

With a sharp exhale, he slammed the letter onto his desk, the impact sending a tremor through the wooden surface. The ink jar beside it rattled slightly, a tiny drop spilling over the rim like the overflowing rage inside him.

He didn't need to finish reading.

He already understood the message loud and clear.

Honest was kicking him out.

And more than that—he was allowing him to live.

The thought made Anthelm's stomach churn.

He knew how things worked under Honest's rule. When the Prime Minister decided someone was no longer useful, they weren't simply retired—they were erased. Silenced. Buried. The fact that Anthelm had received an official letter rather than a dagger in the night was, in its own twisted way, a gift.

But he wasn't grateful.

He had clawed his way up from nothing, sacrificing everything to secure his place in the Capital's political sphere. Friends had been discarded. Family ties severed. Countless lives had been taken—so many that he could no longer remember the faces of those he had ordered to their deaths.

And for what?

To be tossed aside like some loyal dog who had outlived its usefulness?

His fingers drummed against the desk, his mind a whirlwind of calculations and possibilities.

Was it over? Was this truly the end of his career? Was he expected to fade into obscurity, to sit idly by while others—less competent, less deserving—occupied the seat he had bled for?

No.

He would not allow it.

He had worked too hard to be thrown away like this.

Anthelm knew better than anyone that fighting Honest outright was suicide. The man was a master manipulator, a spider who spun his web so thick that even the strongest warriors fell prey to it. But there were ways to fight back—ways to resist without openly rebelling. If he played his cards right, he might still salvage this situation.

It was suicide to go against Honest, Anthelm knew. But he would have to fight in his own little way. If… if… he could take out Chouri… if he could exchange the safety of his position for the life of that stubborn minister, then perhaps there may be a chance to salvage this situation.

Anthelm reached under his desk. He slowly drew back a drawer where he kept it. He had kept it here ever since that dreadful party where everything went wrong. Perhaps it was to remind him of his failure or perhaps he instinctively suspected he would need it soon.

If he wanted to survive, he would have to play his cards right. Such was the life of a politician. Even if life were an endless path of freedom and choices, in politics there was only one way to go about living: strategically.

He had devoted his life to this. He had taken so many risks in the face of death even. Even before the wrath of the Empire's Mightiest, he had chosen to risk death to be strategic, his talent for politics smelling an opportunity. In this, Anthelm was at least respectable, someone truly to regard as a great tactician.

Near the back of the drawer, where he had subconsciously placed it - perhaps due to fear that he may be caught - there was a tiny bottle. He had paid good money to have this conceived. He hired a great scientist to conjure this solution and promptly killed him right after.

No one as strategic as Anthelm wouldn't keep a failsafe.

In the entire world, perhaps this was the only cure to 'Poseidon's spirits'.

The bets were off and the cards were down. Anthelm took a sheet of paper and began writing a letter.

He wouldn't tell Honest about this. That would risk getting leaked to Esdeath, who would likely come to kill him once she knew he lied pretty brazenly towards her. No need for middle men.

He had the perfect bait for Chouri anyways.

Red. Perhaps the chicken?

The green was definitely from the peas.

Tatsumi gazed down at the liquid listlessly. Even though it was gross, he felt way too empty to care about it now. Both metaphorically and literally.

He stood up from the base of the toilet he had just puked into and flushed. As the water swirled away, Tatsumi walked over to the sink and turned it on, scooping up the water to gargle.

His body couldn't even process solid foods anymore.

His meals were to entirely consist of broth from now on. Time was running out. Sooner or later, he'd be too much of a husk to function anymore.

Training, physical exertion… any type of exercise was too much for him now. At maximum, he could draw out 80% of his strength, though not for long.

He really had to seriously consider it now even if Tyrant was against it. Would he take that procedure? To freeze his bodily autonomy until Stylish could develop a cure… that would sound nice. But how much time would he lose? It would mean lending his body over to the Jaegers, which Tatsumi felt uncomfortable with.

Maybe he ought to just find Night Raid already and borrow Incursio.

Tatsumi sighed as he stumbled out of the bathroom. He felt so incredibly dispirited. He wondered if he might even accept the march of the poison. At least that might give him a little peace.

His right eye spiked with pain. Tatsumi winced.

'I'm fucking kidding, dumbass.'

Tatsumi strolled slowly outside of the building. He felt too weak to train but he didn't want to rest yet. He thought he might get some fresh air, revitalize his failing body with some of nature's virtues.

He would visit Radus' grave again. He really liked the idea of simply walking for the time being.

His brain kept whirring with a loud emptiness - something he thought he could clear with the thought-provoking environment provided by the presence of many graves.

So Tatsum took his time to walk leisurely north, to that lonely stone. Pay his dues while he may since he left quickly to let Chouri reminisce to his utmost last time.

Unfortunately, Tatsumi came to see that he wouldn't get the chance to be alone at the grave. A blonde girl was already there.

"Hey." Tatsumi breathed when he got there.

"Hey." Spear answered.

That was the end of that. No more conversing. No more need to.

Tatsumi was aware that he hadn't seen Spear ever since Radus passed. She had reserved herself, pulling away and out of company. Tatsumi knew that there were many who processed grief in such a manner. He did it himself too, when he first came to the Capital.

Sometimes, loneliness tasted sweet.

It was a drug, when one can indulge in the sensation of tragedy, when individuality feels so prominent upon one's soul. To further wallow in that, many wade into the darkness, away from the light of the company of others - diving away from reality. All so that their thoughts may breed, that the fantasies of their inner could wash away the grief.

"Whatever you're thinking about, say it." Tatsumi spoke. "I'll lend you my ear."

No change occurs as long as one runs away. Spear may find comfort in the dark right now, but eventually, she would have to find her way back. Tatsumi wanted to encourage her, to pull her back.

"... I always looked up to him like my older brother." She sighed. "He was always there for as long as I can remember…"

She paused to reminisce. She let out a small laugh.

"When I was young, I thought he was quiet since he didn't like me. So I didn't like him. I thought he was weird. It's strange how you learn how to see and hear twice as you grow. He was always kind to me but I had to grow up before I could see it. He always said caring words to me but I needed to grow up before I could hear it… I was such a brat when I was a kid…"

Tatsumi smiled. Something felt really nice about hearing her spill her heart out. It felt so genuine. So very human.

"... I gradually started looking up to him as my big brother, even if we weren't related. He had something about him that was just respectable… something strong…" Spear's eyes lowered, her smile fading. "You have that too, Tatsumi. Father does as well…"

A cold pause hit the conversation. The sun went behind a cloud and peeked out before Spear opened her mouth once more.

"Tatsumi… how do I become strong like you?"

Out came the words Spear had been holding in. It came from the fear that rooted in her deepest core.

She wanted to break free from being weak.

Tatsumi thought about speaking many times, but each time, he felt as though he couldn't find the right answer for her. But now, her words resonated with Tatsumi. He suspected he knew what Spear was feeling right now precisely because he felt it before. Back then, he had people to support him, people who gave him hope in a purpose to be found in the sacrifice of those he lost. Here, he would do the same for her.

"Tatsumi… have a strong heart."

'The words you gave to comfort me, I'll relay them to her, Radus.'

"You don't."

That broke the tension of the moment. Spear's brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

"You don't understand what 'strength' is, Spear. You're asking how to attain it like its a weapon or a title. Sure, you can get stronger by training and working out…" Tatsumi gave Spear a kind smile. "... but that's not the kind of strength you're talking about, right?"

Spear didn't answer.

"I've met… too many people until now who want strength like that. Strength to end their enemy's lives. Strength to oppress the other. What they really want is violence. I don't think… I don't think that's real strength." Tatsumi looked down and placed a fist over his heart. "Real strength comes here."

"..." Spear mirrored Tatsumi's action.

"There's nothing else to it. Be yourself. Stick to being yourself. You know who you are more than anyone else in the world. Don't betray that."

Tatsumi squeezed his fist resolutely, holding it out towards Spear. "I'm sure Radus believed you could do it. Become who he expected you to be."

Chouri set his hand down over the paper, almost as though to cover its contents. He looked around at his surroundings making sure he was alone before slowly withdrawing his hand, cautiously rereading the simple letter.

"I have the cure. Come alone to the 53rd warehouse of the eastern Merideth district tomorrow.

-Anthelm."

He wasn't even hiding it anymore that there had been an assassination attempt. That Tatsumi had been poisoned. Now… just a day before Tatsumi's seemingly eventual demise, he called out a bold declaration, dropping all pretenses to draw him out once more.

Likely, the cure was a bluff and not even real.

Chouri had expected a sly message with hidden intent. He never thought Anthelm would be this open. But that's why Chouri could tell there was something else going on. Anthelm smelled desperate.

Chouri leaned back in his chair, gazing upwards.

If it was desperation, then Chouri was also feeling it too. Tomorrow… that would mark the 14th day since the party. In other words, it would be the final day Tatsumi had to live.

The conditioning plan didn't seem to work, Tatsumi hadn't gained the miraculous immunity that Chouri had hoped for. If there was another plan, Chouri wasn't aware of it. There wasn't much of an option left for the boy now.

Anthelm was inviting him into an obvious trap.

"..."

Chouri considered the option of ignoring this.

Tatsumi, by all fairness, was a little more than a stranger. They had only known each other for the better part of a month - and there were still immense secrets unspoken between them. Perhaps he might've saved his and Spear's life, but asking for Chouri to sacrifice it willingly was beyond what most men could do.

But most of all… Chouri was tired. Ever since Radus' death, the spark of boldness that Chouri held faded. He felt comfortable in the quiet.

He was a minister.

A minister with the power to influence the entire Empire. It wasn't just Spear, too many lives were upon him. Through him, laws could be passed for the good of the people - this entire corrupt system would have a stopgap. There was so much good he could do.

All he had to do was just throw out this letter and ignore it.

Chouri stared unblinking at the ceiling. He gazed as though he were having a secret conversation with the heavens.

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't ignore it. Something beyond him compelled his soul.

All men have the voice of the good spirit within them. That calling from the beyond which guides all souls. Many have grown to suppress that whisper, to ignore its teachings and go against it.

Chouri was a man who listened carefully to that voice. He was blessed with a better reception to its guidance than most. And right now, that voice told him, "the praise of thousands will fall before the ears of your eternal soul. Yet the sorrowful cry of one will resound forever with you."

Chouri sat up quietly as he affirmed the resolve.

His heart resonated strongly as he made his decision.

He would go.

…

Twilight had faded, making way for the night as Spear made her way back to her resting chambers. Training had consumed her time and she found that she was pushing sleep back further and further. Even now, she hated how she had to humbly relinquish her body to the waiting arms of sleep.

That was why she was surprised to see someone was still up as she returned to her home. Accompanying the light of a burning lamp, Spear witnessed Chouri was sitting in his favorite Venetian chair, gazing into the beyond. His eyes were unfocused and he did not seem to notice Spear as she approached.

"Father?" Spear ventured to call.

Chouri shook a little as he fell from the spiritual, reentering the physical. He turned to look at his daughter. His face sprouted a warm smile.

"Ah, Spear."

He rose from his seat and drew upon her, embracing her. Spear was drenched with the sweat produced from her exercising. She smelled rank of overspoiled ammonia.

Nevertheless, Chouri took his daughter lovingly in his arms.

"F-Father?"

"Spear… I'm glad you've grown well." Chouri murmured. "From a tiny infant… you've grown so big… You're strong, Spear."

'Strong enough to keep going without me.'

"Father… is something wrong?"

Chouri stepped back, meeting Spear's worried face with a smile.

"Of course not. Why, a parent would want to hold their little child every now and then." Chouri chuckled.

"Father! I'm already 19!" Spear complained.

"It doesn't matter how big you grow." Chouri laughed. He remembered fondly of the times his late parents doted on him long into adulthood. "You'll always be my little girl in my eyes. Once you have a kid yourself, you'll understand…"

Spear noticed that Chouri seemed to gaze back into the beyond again.

"That's love, Spear. That's love…" He hugged Spear once more, patting her on the back. "I love you, Spear."

Spear accepted her father's moment of bursting parental love. The boundary between their souls was weak at this moment and Spear could feel the warmth of her parent's care.

Then Chouri stepped back.

"You're tired, aren't you? I've kept you. Wash up and rest."

"Alright…"

Chouri smiled and stepped away, going to his own room.

These could very well be the last words he shared with her. He could not have it that he would leave her without telling her he loved her one last time.

…

The sky was still dark when Chouri left the palace. The first hints of dawn had barely begun to lighten the horizon, and the city remained in a state of quiet slumber. The streets were largely empty, save for the occasional patrol guard and the few early risers beginning their daily routines.

This was intentional.

Chouri needed to move unnoticed—but not too unnoticed. His presence in the city had to be felt just enough. A subtle touch, like a painter carefully applying strokes to a masterpiece, ensuring that the right details stood out while the rest blended into the background.

As he walked, he made occasional friendly greetings, just enough to plant seeds of awareness in the minds of the people. If something happened to him after this meeting, he wanted the public to remember seeing him alive and well, moving through the city before he met Anthelm.

If the people knew he had walked into a meeting with Anthelm, only to turn up dead soon after, suspicion would be immediate. The common folk had no love for corrupt officials, and Anthelm's name was already muttered in hushed tones by those who feared him. Chouri needed that quiet, simmering distrust to be stoked into full-blown outrage should the worst come to pass.

Still, he had to be careful. Drawing too much attention would be equally dangerous. If the wrong ears caught wind of his movements, his ability to negotiate could be compromised. If Honest's network of spies caught on, if Anthelm got the sense that this was some kind of elaborate trap, then the meeting could collapse before it even began.

And if that happened, the cure might slip through his fingers.

So he struck a balance.

He moved through the streets at a leisurely pace, pausing every so often to acknowledge a passerby.

He smiled at a petite woman as she carefully selected vegetables from a vendor's stall, her basket filled with fresh produce. She returned the gesture hesitantly before averting her gaze.

A lanky man strolled by with his child, the boy skipping beside him, humming a tune. Chouri gave them a casual wave. The father hesitated, then nodded in return. The child, unaware of the weight that hung in the air, grinned up at Chouri before tugging at his father's sleeve and continuing on.

A blonde woman stood at the entrance of a bar, leaning against the doorway. She looked particularly pepper for the morning. Perhaps a heavy drinker. Chouri nodded as he passed. She blinked at him, recognition flashing in her gaze.

Some recognized him. Some did not.

That was fine.

He had done enough.

As he moved closer to his destination, the city's liveliness faded behind him. The laughter and murmurs of early morning workers gave way to a quieter, more desolate part of town. The roads became less refined, the scent of damp wood and rusted iron filled the air, and the presence of the Capital's splendor faded into something more industrial—more covert.

Eventually, Chouri left the protection of the open public entirely.

The 53rd warehouse loomed before him, a towering structure of darkened stone and rotting wood. Its sheer size suggested wealth, but its poorly maintained state revealed the nature of its owner.

This warehouse belonged to one of Anthelm's trusted patrons, a merchant who had long operated under his protection. A slaver.

Chouri's jaw tightened.

The 53rd warehouse was not used for storing goods or trade materials. It was not filled with textiles, grain, or weapons.

It was filled with people.

The merchant's most valuable assets—human lives, reduced to commodities.

A deep sense of disgust curled in Chouri's gut, but he did not let it show on his face. He had spent too many years in this world to waste energy on visible outrage.

He had come here with a purpose.

And before this meeting was over, he intended to see it through.

"So it's this?"

"Yes." Stylish answered.

The laboratory was silent, save for the faint hum of machinery and the occasional beep of monitoring devices. The air smelled sterile, tinged with the faint scent of chemicals and metal. The overhead lights cast an eerie glow over the room, reflecting off the smooth glass of the cryostasis pod.

Tatsumi stared up at the pod filled with its strange bluish liquid. There was something unnervingly familiar about it. The color, the stillness, the quiet cold it seemed to radiate—it reminded him of her.

A chilling cold.

Esdeath placed a firm yet gentle hand on his shoulder. Her touch was warm despite the icy presence she exuded, a stark contrast to the frost of the liquid awaiting him.

"It's ready for you, Tatsumi… I promise it will be a quick moment for you. Before you know it, we'll have the cure ready."

Her words were meant to be reassuring, but Tatsumi couldn't shake the weight pressing against his chest. He forced himself to breathe evenly, but the tightening in his ribs made it feel as though the very air around him was resisting him.

The pod stood there, waiting.

Welcoming.

Or perhaps it was devouring.

Tatsumi's heart pounded in his ears, his pulse thudding in time with the steady beeps of the machines around him. His fists clenched at his sides.

He didn't want to go in.

"Well, Tatsumi… let's finish this procedure. Don't worry, it will be completely painle-"

"Wait."

The scientist and the general turned to look at Tatsumi.

"Before I go… let me say goodbye to my colleagues."

Stylish paused. He adjusted his glasses, his sharp gaze flicking between Tatsumi and Esdeath before deferring the decision to her.

Esdeath regarded Tatsumi for a long moment.

Esdeath contemplated for a bit.

"Do make it quick."

A well-built man stood before the doors of the warehouse. He looked over at Chouri and grunted. He swiveled his head around, checking the area, confirming indeed that he had come alone.

"Inside." He spoke, opening the door.

"The cure?" Chouri asked.

"Inside." The man answered again, though not exactly answering his question but ordering him to go in.

Chouri relented, entering into the opening. He took a brief few steps inside before hearing the click of the man locking the door. It was to be expected.

Chouri grimaced as he saw men and women and children in chains; caged while their barely covered bodies provided attestation of violent treatment and lack of nutrition. It was an ugly place for a man of virtue.

Nevertheless, he trudged forwards into the maw of the devil. His feet took him onwards as the buff man behind escorted him forwards. Finally, at where Chouri would guess to be the center of the building, he came before Anthelm's sitting figure.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect this to work." Anthelm began. "I always thought you were far too emotional to be deserving of your position. I never knew you'd also be this stupid."

Chouri took a look around the area. Men were posted all around. He would guess 20-30 in total? Likely Anthelm's most loyal goons. Right behind Anthelm's chair… there he was. Veral, the one that ended his old friend's life.

Chouri took a calm breath in, collecting his nerves.

"The cure?"

Anthelm smirked. "Of course, it doesn't exist… is what I'd like to say. I had to have some assurance…"

He raised his hand to his breast pocket, taking out the vial of the miracle solution.

"Then, again, even if I didn't have it, you'd have come anyway trusting my lies. Honestly, why did I-"

"You're trying to sound strong." Chouri interrupted. "But you're desperate. Aren't you?"

That put an abrupt end to Anthelm's speech.

"If I had to guess, it's Honest. He's given you the boot, hasn't he? Likely due to your failure to eliminate me. That's why you drew me out so urgently… you NEED me dead. You need to show master that you're not defective. So what is it? You're going to kill me here and pin the blame on a runaway slave? Cute plan."

Anthem performed a slow swallow, his saliva feeling a tad dryer than usual as it uncomfortably fell down his throat. He had a rather faithful belief in the act of listening to intuition and currently, his instincts were on edge. For all he hated Chouri, he knew, at least, that he was a smart man. If he knew about his situation prior to coming here, then Anthelm had to wonder what that clever man had prepared.

Anthelm swiveled his head to look at three men to his left. "VAN! GERN! HACHA! Join the lookout team outside! Keep your eyes peeled for assassins!"

His immediate thought was that Chouri would have brought reinforcements. Assassins, perhaps? Some kind of professional killers that could have killed him before he laid the command to eliminate Chouri.

Anthelm raised his hand holding the vial.

"Don't forget, Chouri. I ordered you to come alone… if I see ANY sign of anyone else… I'm destroying this formula."

Chouri sighed, digging his hands into his pockets. He firmly gripped the object he had stored in his right pocket.

"You don't have to repeat yourself, Anthelm. You don't need to worry. I am alone." He answered. "Now, let's negotiate, shall we? Like proper businessmen."

"... Negotiate?" Anthelm echoed. "My good minister… you can't possibly think I called you here so we may chat like schoolgirls. I want you dead and you have done me the favor of wrapping the noose around your neck yourself. There will be no negotiations."

The armed men within the storehouse took a shuffling step towards Chouri.

Chouri took a deep breath and closed his eyes, shutting them tight. The anticipation was burning his nerves. His legs started shaking in fear and the color drained from his face. Perspiration formed on his burrowed forehead. His right hand tightened.

"... I'm sure you'd really like the deal I have, Anthelm. I can give you something worth more than that cure to you."

"Oh? Are you sure, Chouri? I can't help but see that you're shaking. Are you scared? Terrified? So you know, your life is the only thing I want more than this cure." Anthelm taunted.

Chouri exhaled slowly. "... that's not true. Anthelm… you're a greedy piece of shit scum that always prioritizes yourself over everybody else."

Anthelm tilted his head curiously, unsure of what the old man was plotting. He looked terrified, yes, but at the same time, his words resounded with a firm resolve.

Chouri slowly opened his eyes but not even he himself noticed. His eyes were looking so far away that he couldn't see anything.

'How nerve-wracking it is to truly put your life on the line…' He thought to himself. 'To think that you and Tatsumi could do this so naturally… I am truly blessed to have met the both of you… and that's why… I must be able to do it as well.'

"Anthelm… more than your pursuits… more than you want my life… you prioritize your life above everything else. That's why…"

Chouri withdrew his right hand from his pocket, taking out the small cylindrical detonator, his thumb resting on the switch. His left arm drew back his coat, revealing the array of explosives lined along the inside of his clothing. "... that's why I propose this: either you give me the cure, or none of us live."

Anthelm's entire assembly of men took a collective step back. Anthelm himself rose from his chair in alarm and panic.

"No moving." Chouri gasped. "Sit where you are."

Anthelm watched Chouri hesitantly before slowly sitting down per his demand.

From behind Anthelm's seat, Veral whistled nonchalantly. "He's got you good, boss man."

Anthelm seethed. "Bando! I told you to check him!"

The man that led Chouri in raised his hands in defense. "You told me to check if he brought anyone else, sir!"

Anthelm sighed out in surrender. "Let's be reasonable here, minister Chouri… Surely you don't mean to blow yourself up. You have a loving daughter waiting for you…"

"I am being reasonable, Anthelm. Either I die by your men or by my volition. Thing is, I prefer taking charge of my own life. The only way both of us get to live is if I take that cure and leave."

Anthelm watched Chouri's body language carefully. He was shaking all over and his face was as pale as a ghost. There were only so many men in the world who would sacrifice their lives willingly.

Chouri was not a warrior. He was born of nobility and lived in a cushy position his whole life. Anthelm took a deep breath. There was no way he'd really pull off a homicidal suicide bombing - not someone like Chouri…

"Are you certain?" Anthelm spoke with the calmest tone he could muster. "Have you ever killed someone in your life? Can you accept that weight as you go? You're not only a loving father but a minister in charge of many lives! Should you live, you could help so many-"

"Shut up, you snake." Chouri growled. No one who knew him ever heard him speak so hatefully. "Don't cast words of which weight you cannot hold. Do you believe everyone in the world has a heart as selfish and cowardly as yours? I wish that I may stay with my daughter… that I may continue serving the people of this Empire… but unlike you… I have a desire for something greater than myself. Someone like you would never understand. You have 10 seconds. Give me the cure or I will press."

Chouri's eyes blazed with challenge, daring Anthelm to go against him. Those eyes were quite close to the look of a madman.

Anthelm weighed his options. He was standing in a checked position. Even if Anthelm could somehow get out of the blast radius on time, the explosion would cause a loud stir and the public would be drawn in. Then Anthelm would have to explain what he was doing there with a dead minister, even if he accomplished his objective to have Chouri dead.

He regretted coming here at all or not having Bando simply killing him on the spot outside. His sinister nature failed him.

"F-Fine…!" Anthelm relented, raising the vial. His life was more important. "You can have it!"

Chouri glared straight into Anthelm's eyes. "Roll it."

Anthelm pushed off of his chair, bending his knees onto ground, placing the small cylindrical vial onto the floor before pushing it towards Chouri. The glass rumbled along the floor until it reached Chouri's foot.

Chouri tried to bend over and pick it up, nearly tripping over. He found his knees felt especially stiff. It is not easy, priming oneself to commit suicide on command. Internally, as he was accepting in his heart that he would kill himself, his brain reacted by flooding his system with adrenaline in a last ditch fight or flight response. Every muscle in his body was tensed to the highest degree even though Chouri hadn't felt it.

He wobbled awkwardly as he manually relaxed his tendons to shakily pick up the vial. It seemed almost like it wasn't happening… that he had leapt into the jaws of death and came out victorious.

He rose gingerly, focusing his gaze back at Anthelm. He wasn't sure what to do now. Should he just walk backwards slowly until he leaves? He certainly didn't feel the least bit safe in company of all of Anthelm's goons…

'Wait a second… where's the one that killed Radus…?'

Chouri's focus relaxed from Anthelm, only noticing just then that Veral was absent from behind Anthelm's chai-

"Sorry about this."

The cold slice cleanly cut through the air, hardly making a noise before Chouri heard a small thud.

"VERAL! WHAT ARE Y-!?"

Chouri didn't understand it at first. He whirled his head to his right, finding Veral standing there, his sword held low.

'How did he get there!? How did I not see or sense him!? No, I need to press…!'

Chouri was ready in heart and soul to sacrifice himself. He instinctively ordered his thumb to press the switch… yet nothing occurred.

Chouri looked down in confusion.

His eyes closed on the end of his right arm. Nothing remained halfway past his forearm. It was so cleanly severed that Chouri didn't feel it.

Veral had read Chouri's spirit. His soul was about as much of an open book to one who could read presences as well as Veral. And Veral could tell that Chouri's attention was solely on Anthelm.

When Chouri's awareness faltered, he slipped out of his range and struck from behind.

"You seem like a good leader, minister." Veral sighed, leaning down to pick up Chouri's cut off hand. He gingerly took out the detonator and placed it on the ground before smashing his foot on it. The device shattered apart.

"But you see… I have a dream that's better suited under bad leaders like boss man over there. I know that doesn't really go along with your vision but…"

Veral simply walked over to Chouri, reaching over and took the vial from his left hand as well. Chouri stood still, frozen from shock, not even putting up any form of resistance.

"... the thing about dreams is… when two dreams collide, someone has to die."

Knock, knock.

Tatsumi waited solemnly outside Chouri's door.

For the last two days, he had deliberated over and over. He tried to think up other ways to go about it.

But time was almost up now. Whether he… or rather, whether Tyrant liked it or not, Tatsumi was out of options. This was survival on the line.

He would accept being frozen in order to hopefully be cured somewhere in the future.

It was the last thing he wanted to do, really, but time was a cruel disciplinarian who whipped even the most stubborn to move.

As long as he was alive, he could make a difference. Even if he were to be frozen for a long time, for as long as he was alive, his dream wouldn't die.

It would just freeze.

That's why…

That was why Tatsumi was standing before Chouri's office. He needed to notify his boss that he would take a leave of absence. He had to say his goodbyes.

Strangely, there was no answer at the door. Tatsumi knocked again, a little louder this time.

When there was still no response, Tatsumi cleared his throat before opening the door.
"Excuse me!" He called out.

The office was empty. Tatsumi sighed.

He wanted to give his personal farewell to Chouri. Sadly, it would seem he would have to settle for leaving a message instead.

Tatsumi walked over to Chouri's desk. There was a fancy ink pen sitting openly on the counter. However, Tatsumi didn't see any paper.

SIghing, Tatsumi opened one of the drawers. Inside, there was a folded letter resting on a stack of folders. He picked it up.

"He wouldn't mind if I wrote on this, I guess…"

Tatsumi opened the letter, partly curious and partly to make sure it wasn't anything important. Thankfully, it seemed unimportant, very short and impersona-

"I have the cure. Come alone to the 53rd warehouse of the eastern Merideth district tomorrow.

-Anthelm."

"…"

Tatsumi stood motionless, reading the letter.

Surely it was a sham. A bluff. A terrible bold-faced lie.

Anthelm would never give the cure to Chouri. The only reason he would have written this letter is to call Chouri out into a trap. And Chouri was a smart man. Surely, he knew not to go… right?

Tatsumi hobbled a little.

He wouldn't have gone… he COULDN'T have gone…! The last time he left, Radus had died… he surely would have learned to take precautions by now!

Then where was he?

Tatsumi stood alone in Chouri's empty office.

Chouri was a man too passionate for his own good. Even if it was unlikely that Anthelm truly had a cure… for the slightest of chances… would he go?

Tatsumi had faith that he would.

Tatsumi took a step towards the door, tapping his hand against his waist, making sure his sword was there. He would go too. If Chouri was fighting for him, then he wou-

Pain ran through his chest, causing Tatsumi to stumble.

He was dying.

He was already on his last day, nay, his last few hours.

Stylish's pod was ready.

He was sick. He was dying. If he went, what COULD he do?

He already failed to save one of his friends.

…

It was such an easy choice. He won't be able to do anything. In the first place, it wasn't even clear if Chouri went. Chouri was a smart man. Tatsumi was infected. No one could blame him if he just… sat this one out.

"YOU ARE RUNNING AWAY!"

Tatsumi paused. Everything about him stood motionless.

But within, he was waging a terrible war with himself.

'Do I go… or not…!?'

Tatsumi felt immensely tired. He was the little boy curled up under the covers as the winter cold ravaged outside again.

He was already fighting through so much… he didn't want to take on more. He felt powerless before the world. He was but one fleeting, dying heart against everything.

"Have a strong heart."

… not yet.

Tatsumi felt strength return to his legs. He still had warm blood pumping through his veins. His muscles still listened to his commands.

What he was fighting for was beyond all this suffering. He wanted to see it. He had already seen the end of the path of carnage. This time… he wanted to see the end of his dream.

He still believed it.

No one had to die.

"AAAAAARGGHHHHH!"

The delayed pain rushed up Chouri's spine as he clutched the stump of his right arm. Blood oozed down his severed wrist.

Anthelm and everyone else simply watched almost in a daze.

The only one who seemed unaffected was standing over Chouri's prostrated figure.

Veral sighed.

"I really am sorry for this. You look like a really good guy."

Anthelm noticed how he was holding his breath. He slowly let it go and took quiet breaths. Then he eased into a relaxed breathing. Then…

"... heh… heheh… Hahahahaha…!"

Anthelm took a tentative step forward. Then again.

"HAHAHAHA! How pathetic, you old geezer! Looks like your luck ran out, Chouri! Come on, don't you have some other tricks up your senior sleeves?" He taunted. "You're gonna die? Then die alone!"

Anthelm smashed his foot into Chouri's side, knocking the air out of his lungs. As Anthelm leaned in to kick him again, Veral stopped him.

"Sir, it's not a good idea to kick explosives."

"... right…" Anthelm paused.

His mood soured instantly. He wanted to beat the crap out of Chouri before offing him.

"Also…" Veral spoke up. "Let me kill him. I want my name to be known as the one who ended the minister."

Anthelm grumbled. "Well… right. I guess you earned it. No more stalling with him. Kill him, Veral."

Veral stepped up to Chouri's bent figure, one hand holding onto his grey sword. His grip tightened around his sword. His knuckles whitened as he lifted the blade, its edge gleaming coldly in the faint light.

"Among all of the deeds, I have done… I guess this will be my most dishonorable." He said, almost sadly.

Chouri, kneeling on the ground, looked up at him. The dim light cast deep lines across his weary face, but his sharp eyes did not waver.

The one who had killed Radus stood over him, his expression void of emotion.

"Heh… at least you know what honor is." Chouri spat. "Do it."

Veral paused.

A heartbeat.

Maybe it was shame. Maybe it was something else. But he always gave his victims that brief moment of silence before the end. It made things easier later when he closed his eyes at night.

He exhaled. Then, with swift precision, he raised his sword, its edge poised to descend toward Chouri's neck—

TWANG!

The sharp clash of metal rang through the warehouse like a bell. Sparks flew as Veral's blade met another in a sudden parry.

His eyes widened. Someone had dashed between them.

His gaze snapped to the figure, their stance braced, their sword pressed against his.

"Father! You are TERRIBLE at hiding secrets!" The blonde girl shouted. "I knew you were up to something!"

"... Spear?"

Veral barely had time to process the situation before he instinctively jumped back, dodging her follow-up slash. His feet slid across the floor as he created distance, immediately shifting into a guarded stance.

"Spear…! What are you doing here…!?" Chouri's voice carried a mixture of surprise and worry. "It's dangerous…! Why did you come...! You can't... by yourself—"

"Father—! Your hand…!" Spear growled. Her sword did not waver. "Don't lecture me when this happened to you…! Also, I didn't come alone… well, I did come alone, but someone's also helping me."

Anthelm's face twisted into fury as he turned his attention to her.

"This bitch…! What is she doing here!? What happened to the lookout team!? Aren't they supposed to be guarding outside!?"

"You mean these guys?"

A body fell from above, landing with a thud on the ground right in front of Anthelm - a mangled but familiar corpse of the man he called 'Van' earlier. His eyes widened as he took a step back. Slowly, he raised his gaze upwards towards the ceiling…

Bright yellow eyes met his from above.

Perched atop a ledge along the ceiling of the warehouse, there was a blonde… woman? She certainly looked like a woman, sharing many familiar features - a pretty face, slender figure, and - most noticeably - a generous bosom. But she also had features that no humans had - catlike ears and beast-like limbs.

"W-Who the hell are you?"

She purred as she perused the situation below. "Hm… of course scum like you would pick a nasty place like this to do your dirty deeds."

A blur.

She dropped from the beam at blinding speed, a crash echoing through the warehouse as her feet met the ground. The impact sent dust flying, obscuring the view for a brief moment.

When the dust settled, three men were already down. A fourth dangled in her grasp, his body twitching weakly as she held him effortlessly off the ground.

She sighed, shaking her head. "There's around thirty of you in total… if you'd all do me a favor and just stand still where you are, I'd be over the moon."

For a second, a tense silence.

Then—

"GET THEMMM!"

The warehouse exploded into chaos.

Men shouted as they unsheathed their weapons, surging forward.

Spear moved first.

Her sword cut through the air in swift, efficient arcs. Quick movements, light parrying, precise strikes. Every motion was calculated, honed through hours of relentless training.

She was learning.

With every clash, every step, she understood the difference between wielding a sword and a spear. A spear gave distance, reach. A sword required precision, movement. She had taken that convenience for granted before—but now, she was forging something new.

But even with her newfound skill, she wouldn't have lasted long alone. She wouldn't have been able to stand her ground against these numbers if it weren't for her godsent partner.

It was only by chance that Leone had come here. She was ready to have a relaxing time at one of her favorite bars when she had seen Chouri pass by.

Donning Lionel, her heightened senses went into maximum drive as she nimbly smashed apart the faces of the many men charging at her.

"..."

Veral eyed Leone with a look of excitement.

That strength… that speed… It was unnatural. Her figure was unnatural, bearing many beast-like features.

That could only be a teigu.

His grip tightened around his sword. His breath became controlled. Focused.

This was it.

The chance he had been searching for.

To prove himself.

To take revenge for the weapon he held.

To—

"VERAL!" Anthelm's voice snapped through his thoughts.

The older man was retreating, his expression twisted with fury and fear.

"Guard me to safety! We're leaving!"

Veral froze.

Leaving?

His stomach twisted in frustration.

There was a Teigu user right in front of him. No interruptions. A golden opportunity—

And yet—

A rational voice in the back of his head kept him grounded. He was a realist. He didn't delude in fantasy.

There could be more coming.

The risk was too high.

He had to protect his employer.

Veral exhaled, burying his disappointment beneath duty.

"Let's go, sir."

Spear spun around her opponent's thrust, her body moving with instinctive precision. The blade barely grazed her as she sidestepped, and in the same breath, she slammed the pommel of her sword into the man's face. Bone audibly cracked and the man fell in shock before blacking out from the pain.

Another attempted to flank her from behind but she was used to dealing with numbers. Disciples of the Imperial Fist were trained in regard for all kinds of situations. A combatant as well-versed in fights as Spear would fare soundly against at most three, maybe four opponents of this caliber.

She stretched her legs outward dramatically, expanding the area under her feet, stabilizing her position while lowering her center of mass. She curled her knees inwards and tucked her head down, falling low, right under her opponent's surprise slash.

Her counter was just as swift, a rising reverse kesa that hacked a line through his upper body. Spear grimaced a little as her hand tingled with the ugly sensation of metal ripping through flesh and bone.

She glanced to her left where the yellow blur flung through the air, coiling around the men's weapons, breaking apart their formation before a bone-shattering crack sounded in the air - the actual sound of bones shattering as Leone's fist struck a poor man's face.

It was a brutal yet graceful, fluid fight - one which reflected exactly what Spear lacked. Indeed, she fell way short in terms of speed, strength, and experience but what struck out to Spear's core was something far more abstract.

Resolve.

Within the flurry of Leone's movements, from each bend of her muscles to the lashing of her punch, there was an innate resolve to kill what met the other side of her attack. Spear gazed at her ally's movements as though in a trance.

She was still too new to the world of murder.

Her whole life, she had trained under mentors who were hard and rough but there was always a noticeable holding back. In turn, Spear had learned to replicate this intent.

Everything she learned was meant to harm, to incapacitate, to threaten but never kill. And she believed she would never have to.

When Tatsumi had defied the killing blow meant to sever her life, it was the first time she had tasted a life or death battle. It was the rudest awakening to the truth of the world.

She recalled that she had called the Capital "a den of vipers" once. How true it was. These people were truly trying to kill her.

Half-heartedness would mean her doom.

No, not just her doom.

Her eyes glanced behind her at the man wobbling up to his feet.

Her dear father had lost his arm.

Tatsumi was suffering from poison.

And Radus was dead.

Only her… only she was kept safe as these… vipers lashed upon her loved ones.

From the corner of her eye, she caught movement—Anthelm.

Running.

Veral trailing behind him.

Her pulse quickened. A sharp, burning anger flared in her chest.

No. They will not escape. For hurting those whom she cherished, she burned with the radiant fire for revenge.

She clenched her teeth, her fingers tightening around her sword hilt. Leone was handling the rest of Anthelm's men. Effortlessly.

"Father!" she shouted, her voice ringing over the battle. "Run away!"

Chouri's eyes widened, his lips parting as if to call her back—but Spear had already turned away, her decision made.

Another enemy lunged at her, swinging a heavy cleaver downward.

She dodged. Her blade flashed as she twisted low, slicing through the man's leg. He howled, collapsing onto one knee.

She didn't stop.

She ran.

"Miss!" she called back, glancing at Leone. "I'm sorry, but take care of them!"

Leone smirked, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement as she sent another thug crashing into a stack of crates.

"Call me 'Big Sis' instead!" she shouted after Spear.

Chouri's breath caught in his throat as he watched his daughter run.

His hands curled into fists. His entire being screamed to call her back, to demand that she stop—

But he couldn't.

His chest ached with the weight of a father's fear. But… he understood.

He, too, had staked his life on a cause.

He knew that once a heart had chosen its path, there was no turning back. Even if it led to ruin. Even if it led to death.

The only thing left for him to do was pray.

His voice trembled as he whispered after her, unheard over the chaos:

"... Stay strong, my daughter…"

For just a second, his gaze lingered on her retreating figure. Then, with a deep breath, he turned and ran.

Tatsumi huffed as he ran slovenly, his limbs crying out with weary. He felt awful to just run. He had to take multiple breaks already. People of the city gave the strange sickly boy glances, wondering if they should be the good samaritan who lends him a hand.

The boy's own desperate purposeful aura drove all approachers away, however.

Tatsumi panted while leaning against a wall, taking but a minute before going back into a sprint. He had never been to this "53rd warehouse" before but he had a rough guess. He learned how the layout of the City worked since his assassin days and he hoped that wherever he was going, there would be a commotion to draw him in.

And thankfully, there did appear to be one.

Tatsumi wiped the sweat from his brows as he neared a group of people who were huddled around. He heard calls for a doctor.

He peeked over the shoulders to see what it was all about. His gaze fell upon the horrifying sight of a rather ill-looking minister.

"Sir Chouri!" Tatsumi yelled, pushing past bystanders towards the center of the group. Only when he was closer did he see the full scale of the harm the old man bore. To Tatsumi's alarm, a very blood-red cloth was tied around the end of his right arm which ended at a stump far above natural.

The old man looked up in recognition of a voice. "Tatsumi…? What are y… You're in no condition to-"

"Sir, save your breath!" Tatsumi responded, gingerly taking the cloth off. A citizen had lent the wounded minister their fabric, it appeared. It also appeared that no one knew how to apply simple first-aid.

Tatsumi wound the cloth around the stump and tightly screwed it together, even as Chouri displayed signs of uncomfort. Stemming the bleeding was more important than causing pain, right now.

"You'll have to see a doctor soon, sir. Are you hurt anywhere else? Is whoever did this after you? No… why did you even go in the first place…? You knew it was a tra-"

"Tatsumi!" Chouri yelled over him. "They had a cure…! Spear… she went after them…!"

Tatsumi halted. Spear went too? A cure?

"Sir Chouri… where is she?"

Chouri's breath hitched as he held back the pain. He hesitated.

Arguably, the boy before him was in a worse condition than he, right now. He didn't want to send this boy into combat. Saving him was why Chouri even came here… could he throw this child into the fire?

"Tell me, sir! I need to know!" Tatsumi roared out.

Those emerald orbs still blazed with life.

"... they ran from the warehouse… there was another lady at the warehouse, taking care of the rest of his men… Anthelm ran out an exit… Spear followed him…"

Tatsumi glanced around at the crowd gathered around.

"HELP HIM, PLEASE!" He yelled before tumbling to his feet. He began running once more, towards the warehouse.