The Neutral Zone wasn't a city.
It wasn't a kingdom.
It wasn't even a place people could truly call home.
Stretching between the territories of the Dark Alliance and the Holy Federation, the land was nothing more than a vast, desolate wasteland scarred by the remnants of a war that had ended centuries ago.
The soil was dry and cracked, patches of lifeless earth extending as far as the eye could see, while the skeletal remains of collapsed fortresses and forgotten villages stood silently beneath the endless sky.
The Hundred Years' War had ended long ago.
The land, however, had never recovered.
Even after generations had passed, traces of overwhelming darkness and divinity still lingered beneath the soil, leaving behind a barren landscape where very little life could flourish.
It was a land abandoned by nations.
Which also meant...
It was a paradise for those who wished to disappear.
Mercenaries.
Bounty hunters.
Smugglers.
Information brokers.
Bandits.
Criminal organizations.
People with nowhere else to go eventually found their way here, carving out temporary settlements among the ancient ruins without ever truly claiming the land as their own. Some camps lasted only a few weeks before disappearing overnight.
Others gradually grew into rough gathering points where caravans, hunters, and travelers exchanged supplies, information, or simply rested before continuing across the wasteland.
Laws meant very little here.
Strength meant everything.
Knox adjusted the hood covering his head as he walked across the uneven stone road leading toward one of those settlements.
Calling it a "settlement" was already generous.
Most of the buildings had clearly been repurposed from centuries-old ruins. Cracked stone walls leaned against one another, wooden planks covered collapsed rooftops, and several large tents had been erected wherever proper buildings no longer existed. It wasn't beautiful.
It was practical.
And that was all anyone living in the Neutral Zone cared about.
Although Kizen had already provided him with preliminary information regarding Gideon's whereabouts, Knox had no intention of blindly relying on a single source. Rumors spread quickly in places like this, especially among bounty hunters and information brokers who made a living selling them.
As Knox made his way through the settlement, his crimson eyes quietly swept across the surroundings.
Weapons were displayed more openly than food.
Bundles of monster materials hung from wooden poles outside abandoned buildings that had been converted into makeshift trading posts. Nearby, several mercenaries loudly argued over the value of a monster core while a caravan prepared to leave before sunset.
Nobody paid much attention to the masked young man walking past them.
Not because masks were common.
Simply because everyone here looked suspicious in one way or another.
Compared to the scarred veteran carrying an oversized battle axe across his shoulder, or the hooded woman openly negotiating the price of what was almost certainly contraband, a masked traveler barely deserved a second glance.
Knox, meanwhile, had a much more pressing concern.
"...I'm hungry."
His gaze drifted toward a small roadside stall built beside the remains of an old stone watchtower.
A middle-aged man was grilling skewers over a charcoal fire, the aroma drifting surprisingly far despite the constant wind sweeping across the wasteland.
Knox stopped.
"...One, please."
A few moments later...
One skewer disappeared.
Then another.
"...Not bad."
He glanced toward another nearby stall where flatbread was being cooked inside a clay oven that looked older than the settlement itself.
"...Might as well."
Several minutes later...
The flatbread disappeared as well.
Knox stared thoughtfully at the empty paper wrapping in his hand.
...Am I investigating a mission... or reviewing Neutral Zone cuisine?
He quietly threw the wrapper into a nearby bin before continuing deeper into the settlement.
Eventually, a weathered wooden sign came into view.
The tavern looked as though it had survived more fistfights than renovations. Half of its stone walls belonged to a structure that had likely stood there since the Hundred Years' War, while the remaining sections had clearly been patched together over the years using whatever materials people could find.
Despite its worn appearance...
Business was thriving.
Mercenaries entered and left freely.
A pair of bounty hunters argued over a notice board beside the entrance.
Several caravans had parked nearby, their guards taking turns resting before setting out again.
Knox stopped for a brief moment.
Good food attracted customers.
Good information attracted even more.
If there was anywhere inside this settlement where rumors, requests, and secrets naturally gathered...
It would be here.
Without another thought, Knox pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside.
Pushing the heavy wooden door open, Knox stepped inside and was immediately greeted by a wave of noise.
Conversations overlapped with laughter, arguments, and the occasional sound of mugs slamming against wooden tables. Mercenaries occupied most of the room, while bounty hunters, caravan guards, information brokers, and travelers from all walks of life quietly exchanged rumors in the corners. A few people sat alone with their drinks, silently observing everyone else.
Those were usually the ones worth paying attention to.
Knox walked toward the long counter and took one of the empty seats.
The tavern owner glanced at him briefly before continuing to wipe a mug with a worn cloth.
"What'll it be?"
"Something non-alcoholic. And whatever snack is popular here."
The owner raised an eyebrow.
"You don't drink?"
"Not interested."
A few minutes later, a mug of chilled fruit juice and a plate of fried snacks were placed before him.
Knox picked one up.
Crispy. Not bad.
Still, if he had to choose...
He'd still give the victory to the flatbread outside.
As he quietly enjoyed his food, he listened to the conversations drifting throughout the tavern.
Most of it was exactly what he expected.
A bounty hunter grumbled about a client who disappeared without paying the promised reward.
Another insisted he had discovered the entrance to an ancient ruin hidden somewhere within the Neutral Zone.
Meanwhile, an obviously drunk mercenary loudly claimed he had once wrestled a wyvern to death with his bare hands.
Nobody believed him.
Including the friends sitting beside him.
Then...
The tavern door opened once again.
The atmosphere didn't suddenly freeze.
Nobody stood up.
Nobody greeted the newcomers.
Even so, a number of people instinctively glanced toward the entrance before returning to whatever they had been doing.
Three figures wearing hooded cloaks stepped inside.
Their faces remained hidden beneath deep hoods, revealing little more than the lower halves of their faces.
Perhaps it was their bearing.
Perhaps it was their confidence.
Or perhaps it was simply because attractive people remained attractive even while trying to hide.
The three quietly walked toward the counter.
Unfortunately for Knox...
The only available seats happened to be right beside him.
The first figure sat directly to his right.
The second occupied the next seat.
The third took the seat at the end.
A small pouch landed softly on the counter.
"We need information."
A girl's calm voice broke the silence.
The tavern owner accepted the pouch without hesitation.
"What kind?"
A folded piece of paper was placed on the counter.
The owner unfolded it, scanned its contents, then gave a small nod.
"I'll need a few minutes."
Without another word, he disappeared through the back door.
The four customers remaining at the counter were left in silence.
Well...
Mostly silence.
Knox casually glanced to his right.
Almost at the exact same moment, the hooded girl beside him happened to turn in his direction.
Their eyes met for only a brief second.
Then her expression immediately hardened.
"What are you looking at?"
Her voice was sharp enough to cut paper.
"Wanna die?"
"Pfft."
A small laugh escaped Knox.
"I see."
He casually raised one hand.
"My bad."
Then he simply returned his attention to the snack in front of him, looking far more interested in finishing his food than continuing the conversation.
The girl continued staring at him for another few moments.
Perhaps she expected him to argue.
Perhaps she expected him to become offended.
Unfortunately...
Knox appeared much more interested in deciding whether the fried snack deserved a second order.
Eventually, she clicked her tongue and turned away.
"Hmph."
The blonde girl sitting beside her tilted her head slightly.
Meanwhile, the silver-haired young man remained silent, calmly observing the tavern.
The brief exchange ended there.
Or at least...
It should have.
Unfortunately...
Taverns had an uncanny habit of attracting trouble.
Several tables away, a group of rough-looking men had been observing the counter for quite some time. At first, their attention appeared focused on the three cloaked newcomers.
Then they noticed the masked figure sitting beside them.
Somehow, Knox became part of the equation despite doing absolutely nothing.
Life truly worked in mysterious ways.
The largest man among the group stood up and stretched his neck.
Another cracked his knuckles.
A third drained the remaining alcohol from his mug before rising to his feet.
One by one, they began walking toward the counter.
The surrounding customers noticed immediately. Some looked away. Others quietly shifted their seats.
Clearly, this wasn't the first time these men had caused trouble.
Knox followed the movement from the corner of his eye before taking another sip of his drink.
The juice was surprisingly good.
It would be a shame if somebody ruined it.
Still, looking at the group steadily approaching their seats, Knox already had a rough idea of what was about to happen.
Some things were simply universal.
No matter where you went, there was always that one group.
The group that believed every problem in life could be solved by throwing fists at it.
Unfortunately.
That group was currently heading in their direction.
The group stopped right in front of the counter.
Now that they were closer, it was easier to see what kind of people they were. Most of them looked like veteran mercenaries. Scars decorated their faces and arms, while various weapons hung openly from their belts. None of them bothered hiding the fact that they were evaluating everyone seated at the counter.
The largest among them planted a hand onto the wooden surface.
Thud.
The sound wasn't particularly loud, but it was enough to make several nearby customers glance over.
The tavern owner was still inside gathering information, leaving only the customers at the counter.
A rather unfortunate timing.
The large mercenary swept his gaze across the four seated figures.
A masked man.
A hooded white-haired girl.
A hooded blonde girl.
A hooded silver-haired young man.
Their faces remained mostly hidden beneath their hoods, revealing little more than a few strands of hair and the lower halves of their faces.
Three young people and one suspiciously masked individual.
No matter how he looked at it, they seemed like easy targets.
Or at least, that was what he thought.
"Quite the interesting group."
Nobody answered.
The mercenary's smile twitched slightly.
Usually, when he started a conversation, people reacted one way or another. Some became nervous. Some tried to laugh it off. Others immediately apologized despite not knowing what they had done wrong.
This group, however, seemed oddly uninterested.
The silver-haired young man sat calmly without even looking at him.
The blonde girl appeared more interested in the drink in front of her.
The white-haired girl looked as though she was already running out of patience.
Meanwhile, the masked guy was busy eating snacks.
For some reason, that last one was especially irritating.
The mercenary tapped the counter.
"Did you not hear me?"
This time, the silver-haired young man finally raised his eyes.
Only for a moment.
Then he returned to his drink.
"..."
A vein appeared on the mercenary's forehead.
Before he could speak again, another voice suddenly cut in.
"What do you want?"
The white-haired girl spoke first.
Her tone was sharp enough that even Knox paused briefly to appreciate it.
The mercenary looked at her and smiled.
"A feisty one, huh?"
"Hurry up and say whatever you want to say."
The girl's expression became noticeably colder.
"I don't have all day."
For a moment, the atmosphere around the counter became strange.
Several customers who had been secretly watching immediately lowered their heads and focused on their drinks.
Some instincts were developed through experience.
And experience was currently telling them that standing too close to this conversation was a terrible idea.
The mercenary, however, either failed to notice or simply didn't care.
His gaze lingered on the white-haired girl for a second before moving toward her companions.
"Nothing much. I was just curious."
His smile widened.
"You four don't look like locals."
The blonde girl tilted her head slightly.
"We're four?"
The mercenary blinked.
Then he followed her gaze.
Only then did he realize the masked man was not actually with them.
The masked man in question was currently reaching for another snack.
"..."
"..."
For a brief moment, an awkward silence appeared.
Knox calmly took a bite.
Crunch.
The snack was surprisingly good.
The mercenary suddenly felt stupid. Then he became annoyed because he felt stupid.
Unfortunately, there was nobody he could blame except the masked man sitting there minding his own business.
So naturally, he decided to blame the masked man anyway.
"You."
The mercenary pointed at Knox.
"Take that mask off."
Knox slowly swallowed his food.
Then he looked around.
Left.
Right.
Behind him.
The mercenary's eyebrow twitched.
"I'm talking to you."
"Hmm?"
Knox finally seemed to realize it.
Then he pointed at himself.
"Me?"
Suddenly, the mercenary immediately regretted asking.
For some reason, he had a feeling this conversation was about to become very annoying.