"What the hell…" Zay muttered, exhaling sharply, unsure of what to even make of what had just happened. He glanced down at his arms, hands, legs, stomach—anywhere he could see.
'No wounds. That's good. But who the hell was that?' he thought, unable to shake the question, and his curiosity on who that person really was.
He sank down onto the blood-soaked floor of the train, the sticky warmth seeping through his clothes slightly as the wind whipped his hair in all directions. One leg was folded beneath him while the other remained bent, his right foot flat against the trembling metal floor. His right hand rested on the hilt of his katana, the blade lying quietly along his thigh, its edge stained faintly with crimson. His left hand held tightly onto the sheath.
Zay inhaled deeply, then exhaled—slow and steady. Around him, the world churned with noise. Steam hissed through cracked pipes, gears clanked and shifted with rhythmic groans, and the rushing wind howled through the broken walls. The chaos was constant, but strangely distant, as if muffled beneath layers of silence.
He stared through the broken wall, watching the world blur past in streaks of color and shadow. It all looked the same—dark trees, endless plains, and occasional flashes of distant lights.
Tilting his head back slightly, Zay noticed the moon had dipped lower in the sky. The pale light it cast washed over the landscape in a soft silver glow, outlining the horizon in quiet stillness. His eyes narrowed as he studied it, just for a second, before returning his gaze forward.
Several hours passed before the train finally began to slow. Through the broken wall, Zay saw it—the outer wall of Cindra, a towering barrier made entirely of steel reinforced with aura. Its surface pulsed with a deep crimson glow. As the train approached, the massive gates parted with a low mechanical groan.
The train continued its descent in speed as it passed through the threshold of the outer wall. Zay activated [Shadow Hide], and his figure melted into the shadows, vanishing from sight. Yet each time the train passed under flickering lamps along the tunnel ceiling, his silhouette briefly reappeared—outlined for only a second before slipping back into the dark.
Four more colossal walls followed, each humming with a different aura. First blue, then green, followed by purple, and finally orange. Each emitted a subtle hum. Only after breaching the final wall did the train come to a full stop.
Cindra's Steam Station greeted them with silence. The lights were off, leaving the entire platform submerged in shadows. Steam clung to the floor, rising from vents and cracks in the ground. Steam hissed in the distance like whispering serpents.
Zay slipped off the train unnoticed, his form cloaked in darkness. He moved quickly but carefully, ducking beneath crates stacked higher than his head, then squeezing through narrow spaces in the steel architecture—just wide enough for his body and katana.
'I need to get the hell away from here... find clean clothes... then Rei Alvor. Everything else comes after,' he thought grimly, eyes sharp and unwavering as he disappeared deeper into the city.
Zay moved swiftly through the shadows, his form gliding silently between alleyways and fractured light. Eventually, he came upon a small building tucked between larger structures—no sign above the door, no signs of life within. But with his [Night Vision] passive, the darkness was no barrier. Inside, he saw racks of clothing hanging in still silence.
He crept toward the entrance, eyes flicking to the chain looped tightly around the handles. With a fluid motion, he unsheathed his katana. The steel shimmered faintly in the moonlight as he raised it and—shhk—cleaved through the chains in a single stroke.
The door creaked open as he stepped inside and sheathed his blade.
Dust floated through the air like idle spirits, disturbed only by his movement. The shop was silent—too silent. But it was filled with clothing: suits, trench coats, robes, gloves, trousers, leggings, skirts, dresses, hats, glasses, shoes—everything arranged neatly, untouched for what looked like years.
'There was a building like this. Locked up tight, untouched for years. It wasn't opened again until they found the bodies... a kidnapping case. The kidnappers hid them in a place like this. Could this be it?' Zay frowned beneath his breath. 'I don't remember exactly where that building was. Could be wrong. Might not be.'
Still, his hands moved.
He reached for a pair of black gloves—fine silk threaded with supple leather—and slipped them on. A tight but perfect fit. Then, eyeing his blood-soaked leggings, he found a new pair—plain black, flexible but durable. He stripped quickly, stepping out of his stained ones and into the fresh pair with silent efficiency.
His search continued until his fingers brushed against a long black tunic. The fabric was smooth, unmistakably silk. Zay ran a hand across it for a moment before pulling his blood-splattered white tunic over his head. He slipped into the black one. It fell across his body smoothly.
Zay stepped out of the shop, the door swinging closed behind him with a soft creak. The streets of Cindra greeted him with a haze of steam and the constant hum of machinery. Towering buildings rose around him—some forged from steel, others of aged brick and reinforced metal—pipes jutting out from their sides, releasing hissing plumes of steam into the air. The kingdom pulsed with life, but it was the kind born from industry.
He kept walking, eyes scanning every detail. Vents released rhythmic bursts of vapor, and faint echoes of gears turning could be heard from deep within the infrastructure. It felt like the very bones of the city were alive and grinding.
Eventually, his gaze was drawn upward.
In the distance, five castles dominated the skyline, all built high above the city's core. Four of them slowly rotated around a central, unmoving fortress—a monolith of obsidian black and deep crimson banners.
'The king of Gyro... Varnem.'
Zay exhaled quietly, then he turned away and kept walking, weaving through clusters of people moving through the midnight-colored streets.
As he rounded a corner into a wider plaza, he noticed a group of people gathered near a bench. They wore tunics and trousers, each one armed with swords at their hips. The tension in their posture caught his eye, so he took a seat nearby, close enough to hear but far enough to go unnoticed.
"Today's the day…" one of them murmured.
A heavy silence followed, stretching long enough to feel like a minute passed.
Then another spoke, his voice more serious, weight dragging down every word. "You all realize there's no returning. The moment we leave these walls, none of us are coming back alive. Are you sure you're all ready?"
Another pause. Then came the answer—unified, rehearsed, like a vow.
"Then let's die with a smile."
The way they said it... These were not green recruits. Their voices carried pain, resolve, and something darker—a thread of hopelessness sewn into each syllable. Men who had lost everything but pride. Or perhaps revenge.
'What are they planning?' Zay wondered, narrowing his eyes. But he didn't linger long.
He rose to his feet and walked away, disappearing into the surprising flow of foot traffic. One of the group members glanced over briefly and noticed the katana at his side, but dismissed it—just another shadow passing through a city full of strangers. No reason to look twice.
Zay muttered under his breath as he crossed into a new district, guided by memory and instinct.
"Now, Ironcloud Detective Agency... that's where I'll find Rei Alvor."
Ahead, a massive bridge stretched over a body of water that shimmered unnaturally. Sparks arced across its surface—electrified, ensuring no one could swim across even if they tried. Zay paused for a moment on the edge, the hum of energy vibrating beneath his feet.
Then he stepped forward onto the bridge.