After the raid on the Trade Center, Hanna parted from the group as they reached the chapel's entrance. She wandered away, finding a secluded spot beside a set of worn stone steps. She glanced around, her breathing ragged, before dropping to her knees, her body collapsing under the weight of her emotions. A guttural scream tore from her throat, her fist shoved deep into her mouth to muffle the agonizing sound. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes wide with existential terror. Visions and memories flooded her mind—twisted, overlapping fragments of what was and what could have been. In her mind's eye, she saw the monstrous demon they had just encountered, chewing her up, grinding her into nothing between its jagged, merciless teeth.

Hanna's sobs grew more violent as she trembled uncontrollably, reduced to a small, shivering figure—like prey trembling before a predator too vast and incomprehensible to fight.

"Damn it, Zeke," she choked out through her sobs, "you're not the only one with feelings!"

She wiped at her tear-streaked face, leaning heavily against the cold stone wall beside her. Slowly, shakily, she forced herself back onto her feet, her legs unsteady, her heart still racing.

If I become a demon, will I turn into something like that? she thought, her mind swirling with doubts she had long buried. Will I still be me? Is it even worth it? Her head spun with questions, each one more terrifying than the last. The fear clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake.

Hanna stumbled through the deserted streets of the Undercity, her footsteps echoing hollowly off the walls as she made her way to District 7. The usual hum of life was missing, the residents having locked themselves away after witnessing the demonic terror that had stormed through their streets. Fear had driven them into hiding, leaving the city feeling like a ghost town.

Eventually, she reached the Gun-Barrel. The familiar warmth of the tavern was jarringly out of place compared to the cold emptiness outside. She pushed through the doors, making her way straight to the bar where Antonio sat, lost in thought.

"Oh, hi Hanna. How's it going?" Antonio asked, his tone casual, leaning in as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Hanna collapsed onto the bar, her body heavy with exhaustion. "One pint of the usual, Calisto," she muttered, raising a hand as if the simple gesture required all her strength. "And put it on the Prowler's tab."

Calisto, without a word, filled a glass with her homemade mead, the golden liquid bubbling gently as she slid it across the counter. Hanna grabbed the mug and downed half of it in one long gulp, barely tasting it.

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" he asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

Hanna shot him a tired look. "You don't know the half of it."

"So what did you guys do?" he asked, his eyes still half-lidded.

"We destroyed the Trade Center," Hanna said flatly, not bothering to sugarcoat it.

Antonio's eyes widened in shock, his drink spilling from his mouth and splattering onto the counter.

"Ahem," Calisto cleared her throat, forcing Antonio to clean up the mess with the sleeve of his jacket.

By the time he finished, Antonio had regained his composure. "By any chance," he asked, still stunned, "was it Haze who did most of the damage?"

Hanna's face paled at the mention of his name. "It was."

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Antonio's expression darkened with a touch of sorrow. "So, you saw it."

"Yeah," Hanna said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes twitched with the memory.

"He was like a father to me, you know?" Antonio said softly, his gaze distant. "A caring man. He found me abandoned under a bridge on the outskirts of town. Brought me into the city and raised me like his own. He even opened an orphanage to take in other kids like me—those he found outside the city and the ones he found inside." He paused, his voice growing quieter. "He might look terrifying on the outside, but he's gentle. At least, he used to be."

"Well, he sure didn't look gentle when he transformed in front of me," Hanna said, her voice trembling.

"I understand," Antonio sighed. "The first time I saw him like that was during the Cradle of Fools. You were unconscious then. His beastly eyes, that crazed look—yeah, it scared the hell out of me too. I had to remind myself that he was still my father."

Antonio's voice trailed off, filled with regret. "But after disappearing for months, he didn't say a word to me when he returned. Where is he now?"

"The last time I saw him, he went to see the Contractor King," Hanna explained. "Prowler and Fox were with him."

Antonio's face twisted with anger. "Prowler. It's always Prowler! He keeps taking everything from me! First, he took the victory. Then, he took you. And now, he's going to take my father!"

Hanna's eyes flashed with irritation. "Took me away? You never had me to begin with."

"I asked you out!" Antonio snapped. "You declined, but then you went with him instead!"

Hanna's fists clenched. "How many times do I have to tell you? You're not my type!"

"He's a teenager! How the hell is he your type?" Antonio shouted back, his voice raw with frustration.

"I never said he was!" Hanna shouted, her voice rising even louder.

"Is it because he's a guardian?" Antonio slammed his hand onto the counter, his face contorted with bitterness.

Seated beside them, a stranger had been silently observing their escalating argument. He was a tall, muscular man with a round face and a clean-shaven jaw, his bald head gleaming under the tavern's dim lights. His clothes were plain, but his eyes held an unsettling sharpness.

"Excuse me," the man interrupted politely, his voice calm but commanding. "Do you know where I could meet this guardian you've been talking about?"

Antonio whipped his head toward the stranger. "Do you mind? You're interrupting something," he snapped.

Hanna sighed, her frustration with Antonio now spilling over. "He's not here. And why do you want to meet him anyway?"

The stranger smiled, an almost disarming gesture. "I'm looking for work, and I heard guardians hire contractors for various jobs."

"Yeah, I doubt he'll hire you," Antonio said dismissively, turning away.

The stranger's smile widened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You seem to know a lot about the guardian."

"That's because we're his direct subordinates," Antonio said, leaning forward in a threatening manner. "Who are you really? Why are you asking so many questions?"

The stranger's smile didn't waver. "My name's Dalas. I'm a miner, born and raised here. I recently acquired a contract and wanted to explore new opportunities."

Antonio's eyes narrowed as he leaned in even closer, grabbing the man by the collar. "A miner, huh? Then why come to this district? And anyone from the Undercity would know who the guardian is and how he operates. Cut the crap—who are you really?"

Dalas's smile finally faded. "Well, this isn't ideal."

In a blur of motion, Dalas pulled a concealed energy blade from his pocket and drove it straight into Antonio's thigh. "I'm a knight, you filthy rat!" he hissed, his face twisting with rage.

At that moment, another figure emerged from the shadows—a man of average height with long, greasy hair and two deep scars across his face.

"Viktor, now!" Dalas shouted.

Without hesitation, Viktor pulled out a pistol and fired a single shot, the bullet piercing through Calisto's skull. Her lifeless body slumped to the floor, twitching slightly as a pool of blood spread beneath her.

***

Meanwhile, the Contractor King stood with Zeke and Fredric, his expression unreadable as he continued their conversation.

"How noble of you," the King said mockingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Granting a dangerous outlaw his freedom. I'm deeply moved."

Zeke's hands clenched into fists. "Are you mocking me?"

"A little," the King admitted, a sly grin spreading across his face. "But I do have some good news for you."

"Go on," Zeke sighed, his patience wearing thin.

"The knights have already infiltrated the Undercity," the King said, his grin widening. "There are four of them, though only three are of any concern. One of them, Arthur Dulley, is an angelic contractor. If you can capture him and bring him to me—alive—I'll grant you permission to return to the surface."

The King's grin became almost predatory, his eyes gleaming with cruel delight.

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