The night was cold and damp, lit only by the pale moonlight that filtered through the mist. A quiet stillness hung in the air—until it was broken.
"Mr. Hunter."
A voice echoed in the room. A young man stood stiffly at the doorway, addressing the man seated across from him—elegant in a buttoned-up shirt, grey trousers, and a loosely tied black ribbon. A cigarette glowed between his fingers as he exhaled smoke into the still air.
"What is it?" Aragon Hunter asked without looking up, his tone indifferent. He leaned back into the chair, a picture of composed authority.
The young man hesitated. Then, finally, he spoke.
"It's… the Fallen Liberators, sir."
In an instant, Aragon's demeanour changed. He shot up to his feet, the chair scraping against the polished floor. His hands slammed down on the desk.
"...Elaborate."
"They attacked a cargo truck on the eastern border... They stole the Moonris Serum," the man said quickly, then sighed—either in relief or dread.
Aragon's crimson eyes narrowed, simmering with hatred. His fists clenched at his sides, fingernails digging deep into his palms as he began pacing the room.
"And how exactly do you know this?" he growled.
The young man flinched. "I was on shift that night, sir. I saw them—four of them, taking down the guard squad like it was nothing. And I also saw… someone else."
Aragon paused.
"Zane," he said, turning to him sharply. "You know I trust you, don't you?"
Zane met his gaze, his voice steady but confused. "Of course. Why the sudden doubt?"
"Don't play dumb with me," Aragon snapped. "I know who you thought you saw. The man in that group... you believed it was your elder brother, didn't you?"
Zane's breath hitched.
Aragon turned away, staring out through the tall window overlooking Lunaris. "Your brother is dead, Zane. You know that."
"But it looked like him…" Zane murmured, his voice fragile.
"That's enough."
Aragon's tone was final—sharp as steel. Zane understood. He lowered his gaze and turned to leave.
"My apologies… sir."
The doors closed behind him. But he wasn't the only one who'd heard the conversation.
A pair of amused eyes had been listening from the shadows. A smirk played across glossy red lips as the door swung open again.
"Amara," Aragon said smoothly, reclining into his seat once more. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
He poured two glasses of wine without waiting for her response.
"You know," he mused, "this is one of the finest vintages Lunaris has to offer."
Amara accepted the glass, the deep red liquid reflecting in her hazel eyes. Her skin was a rich bronze, her flowing sapphire gown catching the dim light as she sat across from him.
"I don't mean to pry," she said, swirling the wine, "but some of your people are starting to question your grip on control."
Her tone was laced with mock sweetness—a viper's smile hidden behind a velvet glove.
"You mean Zane," Aragon replied, his voice low. "He's been this way since we pulled him off the streets after the fire. A child with unchecked power, crying over his dead parents. He'll fall in line."
"He was taken from the Tanaka family, wasn't he?" Amara asked. "After his father failed the mission. His brother vanished. His parents... slaughtered by our own."
She took a sip, the red of her lipstick staining the rim of the glass.
"And you told him," she continued, "that if he worked for us, you'd find a way to bring them back. What a sweet little lie."
Aragon chuckled darkly. "Those were the days. When that part of Lunaris was still the Fallen City. I remember Zane screaming for his brother, sobbing over his parents' corpses. And Ren… Ren was too broken, too guilty to even look his brother in the eye. So he ran."
Amara's expression darkened.
"And if Zane ever learns that his brother's still alive? What then, Aragon? He's your right hand. Your loyal hound."
"I'll keep him on a leash," Aragon said, leaning back with a sinister grin. "And if he slips... I'll make sure the dog remembers who feeds him."
The Fallen City was alive with chaos. Stalls bustled with traders selling everything from cloaks to contraband. The air stank of sweat, alcohol, and desperation.
Inside a dimly lit cabin, Kenji was sprawled on a tattered couch, stuffing his face with fried fish.
Jun knelt over the scattered cargo, rummaging like a child with a new toy chest. He picked up a glowing blue vial—the Moonris Serum.
"Careful with that!" Akito barked, snatching it out of his hands. "This stuff could kill you."
At the corner of the room, Ren was buried in a pile of notes, muttering to himself.
"The guard said it cancels our abilities. But we don't know if it's permanent," Ren said, flipping through pages like a detective on the verge of a breakthrough.
Akito stepped over and plucked the papers from his hands. "Ren, you're missing the point. What if he was lying?"
Ren looked up, brows furrowed. "What are you trying to say?"
"If that serum really works, wouldn't Lunaris already be using it? Where are the suppressed rebels? Where's the panic?"
Jun nodded. "Exactly. My ability is just enhanced accuracy. If I aim, I don't miss. But you guys… you're stronger. Ren, you have fire and speed. Akito? You're practically untouchable with a blade. Kenji? Genius-level strategist."
He picked up the vial again, unscrewing the lid with a click.
"I'll take the risk."
"Are you insane?!" Akito lunged, but Kenji held him back.
"We need answers," Kenji said calmly. "This is the only way."
Jun paused, vial inches from his lips. He glanced toward Ren.
"Hey, by the way… what was your brother's name?" he asked casually. "You've never said."
"Jun, that's private—" Akito began, but Ren raised a hand.
"It's alright."
He exhaled.
"My younger brother… I haven't seen him since the fire nine years ago. I assumed he was dead."
He looked away, voice quiet.
"His name is Zane. Avander Zane."