Two years later.

  The basement was dimly lit, the air thick with the coppery stench of blood and something deeper—something rotting. Two bodies lay sprawled on the cold concrete, their crimson pooling around them, silent now.

  A man knelt beside one, his hands slick with sweat and desperation. His breath came in quick, panicked bursts.

  "Please," he gasped. "I’ve told you everything. You said—" His voice cracked. "You said you’d let me go!"

  His captor stood over him, unmoved. Without hesitation, the blade flashed—a swift, clean arc of silver. The plea turned into a wet gurgle. The man clutched his throat as dark blood spilled through his fingers, eyes wide with a final, disbelieving horror. Then, he collapsed, twitching once before going still.

  Viktor flinched. His stomach churned.

  Across the room, Voralis remained impassive, arms crossed over his chest.

  "He complied," Viktor said, his voice thin, barely holding back the tremor in it. "He told us everything."

  The killer crouched, wiping his blade against the dead man’s shirt. His expression was unreadable—calm, indifferent. He didn’t look at Viktor when he spoke.

  "Promises," he muttered, sheathing the knife, "are for the naive."

  A cold weight settled in Viktor’s chest.

  "There must have been another way." His voice held more conviction now. "We didn’t have to—"

  "Save your conscience for someone who cares," the killer cut him off, glancing up. His eyes gleamed with something between amusement and disdain. "You knew what this was."

  Viktor clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "This was different!"

  Voralis finally stirred, stepping between them. "Viktor, sometimes harsh decisions have to be made," he said, his tone even, though his eyes flickered with something unreadable. "We all knew this going in."

  Viktor turned to him, searching his mentor’s face, looking for even a shred of hesitation. "But where does it end, Voralis?" His voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. "How do we know when we’ve gone too far?"

  For the first time, Voralis hesitated. The flicker of doubt came and went in a heartbeat, but Viktor caught it.

  "You learn where the line is drawn with experience," Voralis finally said.

  Viktor let out a dry laugh, hollow and bitter. "Experience?" He gestured at the fresh corpses. "Is watching pointless executions supposed to teach me something?"

  Voralis exhaled, his lips pressing into a thin line.

  The killer chuckled and leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. "I thought you said the boy could handle the job, Voralis. He’s sounding a bit squeamish."

  Voralis turned to him sharply. "He can handle it." His voice carried a quiet warning, one Viktor hadn’t heard before.

  Viktor stayed silent, the weight of it all pressing down on him, threatening to smother him. There was no point in arguing—not here, not now.

  "We’re done," Voralis said, turning away. "We’ll take the samples, and sort out the report."

  The killer nodded, tucking the bloodied knife away. "I’ll finish up here." He looked at Viktor, his smirk returning. "You’ll get used to it, lad. Or you won’t."

  Viktor didn’t answer. He followed Voralis toward the stairs, his mind churning.

  As they ascended, each step heavier than the last, one thought lingered like a shadow, clawing at the edges of his mind:

  At what cost?

  Viktor and Voralis moved through the deserted streets toward the safe house. The night was thinning, the first hints of dawn creeping at the horizon, but the weight of what had just happened still clung to Viktor’s mind like a fog that refused to lift.

  He glanced at Voralis. "What the hell just happened back there?"

  Voralis didn’t break stride. "It's messy business, Viktor. But this is war."

  Viktor let out a breath, sharp and uneven. "I know, but this—this was different."

  Voralis finally looked at him, his expression unreadable. "Why does it bother you so much?"

  Viktor swallowed, jaw tight. "Because that man was pleading for his life."

  Voralis gave him a long, measured look before arching an eyebrow. "And what did you expect? Mercy?"

  Viktor’s fingers curled into fists. "I expected—" He stopped himself, his own thoughts tangled. "I don’t know. Something else. Something better than that."

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  Voralis sighed. "Better?" A dry chuckle followed. "These emotions will paralyze you out here."

  Viktor’s frustration flared. "So what? We just shut off our humanity?"

  Voralis’s gaze hardened. "Yes," he said, without hesitation. "At least when we have to."

  They walked in silence for a moment, boots crunching against the cracked pavement. The distant hoot of an owl punctuated the quiet.

  Viktor exhaled, shaking his head. "Maybe I’m naive. But shouldn’t there be a line? A point where we say, ‘this is too far’?"

  Voralis let out a slow breath, gaze shifting toward the horizon. "Lines are blurred here, Viktor."

  Viktor faltered slightly, a rock catching his boot. "And you’re telling me you’re okay with that?"

  Voralis’s lips pressed into a thin line. "No," he admitted. "But you get used to it."

  Viktor looked away, voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to get used to it."

  Neither of them spoke after that. The safe house loomed ahead, its silhouette barely distinguishable against the dim sky. As they approached, Voralis rapped his knuckles against the heavy door.

  A slot slid open. A pair of tired, suspicious eyes peered out. "What’s your business?"

  "Debrief." Voralis answered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  The guard hesitated, then unlatched the door. "Inside. Quick."

  Viktor stepped over the threshold, but even as the door shut behind them, the cold from outside still clung to him.

  And deep down, he knew—it wasn’t the night’s chill he couldn’t shake.

  Voralis approached the guard at the entrance. "Is Endric inside?"

  The guard gave a short nod towards the kitchen, his expression unchanging. "He's in there."

  Viktor and Voralis trudged into the kitchen, where they found Endric hunched over a steaming mug of tea, eyes scanning the documents spread out before him.

  Endric looked up from his work, eyes brightening at the sight of familiar faces. "Ah, Viktor, Voralis. Good to see you."

  "Hello, Endric," Viktor replied, offering a slight smile, though the weariness was evident in his voice.

  Endric suppressed a yawn, setting his cup aside. "I take it you’re here to debrief on last night’s operation?"

  Viktor ran a hand through his hair, clearly exhausted. "That’s right," he sighed, the memory of the night still fresh in his mind.

  "You don't sound too thrilled about it," Endric observed.

  "It was a long night," Viktor admitted, sharing a knowing look with Voralis.

  Endric stood and stretched. "Let’s move to a proper room." He gestured for them to follow him to a small, dimly lit meeting room.

  As they settled, Viktor caught Voralis's eye, who nodded, signaling for him to start.

  "We checked out the location you marked for us—the one suspected of storing the Hollow Hand’s serum stash," Viktor began.

  "And? Was the intel correct?"

  Voralis pulled out a small bundle from his bag and unwrapped it, revealing four red vials that gleamed ominously on the table.

  Viktor continued, "The place was only a temporary storage. We found these, just four vials.”

  "Where’s the rest?" Endric pressed.

  Viktor shook his head with a sigh. "The main stash’s location is still a mystery to us."

  Endric scribbled something on the paper in front of him before looking up at Viktor again. "Any trouble?"

  Viktor nodded. "We ran into two armed men upstairs. And found another three guarding the stash in the basement."

  "Were they, uh, handled?"

  A fleeting grimace crossed Viktor's face. "We took one alive. Thought he might have information."

  "And?" Endric’s full attention was on Viktor, pen halted.

  "Fresh recruit," Viktor said with a hint of frustration. "Pretty clueless about the bigger picture. They’ve been ramping up recruitment, though. That much he confirmed."

  Endric resumed his note-taking, glancing up briefly. "And what happened to our clueless friend?"

  Viktor hesitated, then replied, "He's been handled."

  Endric’s expression remained neutral. "Noted." He turned to Voralis. "Would you like to correct or add anything to Viktor's account?"

  Voralis shook his head, folding his arms. "He covered it."

  Endric's eyes shifted from Voralis to the vials on the table. "Do we know if these are the same serums referenced in recent intelligence?"

  "No, without ingesting them ourselves we had no way of confirming," Viktor admitted. "Thought we’d leave that to you."

  Endric nodded, picking one up carefully. "Understood. I’ll have these analyzed promptly."

  As he stood, he offered them a terse smile. "Good work, both of you. I’ll wrap up this report and get it to the warden. Now go get some rest. You look like you need it."

  Viktor yawned, standing up along with Voralis. "Thanks, Endric."

  "Anytime," Endric replied, his attention already shifting back to his work as the two operatives left the room.

  Voralis glanced back as they walked. "If we pick up the pace, we’ll make it back for breakfast."

  The chilly morning air made little clouds from their breaths. Viktor fell in step beside Voralis, rubbing his hands together. "You really think we'll make it? The sun's already up."

  Voralis smirked, quickening his pace. "Depends on if you keep dragging your feet."

  "I'm not dragging anything," Viktor replied, though the fatigue in his voice suggested otherwise. His stomach rumbled loudly. "Let's move. I'm starving."

  They made their way back to the orphanage and headed to the dining hall, the morning sun bright outside. By the time they got there, most recruits had already cleared out, but they found Fenric, Soren, and Arelos still seated at a table.

  Soren had his head buried in a book, while Arelos appeared distant, lost in thought. Fenric, on the other hand, was angrily attacking the sausage on his plate, frustration evident.

  Fenric looked up. "Well, look what the cat dragged in. You look rough."

  Viktor chuckled lightly. "I feel rough."

  Fenric leaned back, crossing his arms. "Exciting assignment I take it?"

  Viktor frowned. "A bit too exciting."

  Fenric raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

  Viktor snorted. "Nice tryYou know the rules; no assignment gossip."

  Fenric grumbled, frustrated. "Always such a bore."

  Soren finally looked up from his book, pushing his glasses up. "At least you have the day off today."

  Viktor nodded with relief. "Oh boy could I use it." He looked at Voralis with concern. "Though Voralis insists we still train later."

  Voralis interjected, his gaze firm on Viktor. "We can't slow down now, Viktor, you know this."

  "Yes, yeah, I know," Viktor said, resigned.

  Turning to Arelos, Viktor tried to change the subject. "You heading out soon?"

  Arelos slowly looked up, his thoughts interrupted. He nodded, but his mind still seemed elsewhere.

  "We just debriefed with Endric. I suspect he’ll fill you in," Viktor said.

  Arelos straightened, focusing his attention. He nodded again, more firmly this time.

  Fenric protested, throwing his hands up. "Not fair! Why are both of you kept in the loop but I’m not?"

  Soren furrowed his brow, closing his book with a snap. "What about me?"

  Fenric added, "Yeah, what about Soren?"

  "Perhaps prove yourself more reliable and you would be, " Voralis countered.

  Soren snorted, leaning back with a bemused expression. "Fat chance of that, especially with this dolt," he retorted, elbowing Fenric.

  Voralis arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

  Soren’s voice positively dripped with sarcasm. "Mikos caught this idiot brother of mine sneaking into his office last night, of all things, trying to score the answer sheet for a quiz."

  Shifting uncomfortably, Fenric muttered, "If Mikos stopped with these bloody quizzes constantly, maybe I wouldn’t have to go to such lengths."

  Viktor raised an eyebrow, barely hiding his amusement. "Or, you know, you could always try studying."

  Soren laughed outright, clapping Viktor on the shoulder. "Preach it, Vik! But we both know it's a lost cause."

  Despite the earlier fatigue, the lighthearted exchange had already put Viktor in better spirits. Fenric's antics, while often troublesome, also had a tendency to put a smile on Viktor's face.