"Bang! Bang!"
The revolver roared in Galad's hand, each shot jolting through his palm and webbing as sparks flared in the underground range.
When the cylinder clicked empty, he lowered his arm and exhaled, eyes narrowing on the target ten meters away.
Three bullet holes.
Only fifty percent… still not enough.
Galad's lips twitched at the result. With a practiced motion, he flipped his thumb against the release, swung the cylinder open, and tilted the revolver down. Six hot casings clinked onto the floor.
The sealed range was empty but for him. This corner of the police department's training grounds belonged exclusively to the Nighthawks a quiet place to practice, and to think.
He set the revolver down, drew a folded handkerchief, and began carefully polishing the weapon. The smell of powder still clung to the barrel.
Old Neil gave me this gun…
His thoughts pulled him back to that day. The sight of that monstrous eye behind Old Neil had shaken him so badly he ran straight upstairs to Dunn, not even bothering to claim the weapon he had been anticipating for so long.
At first, he had feared Dunn wouldn't believe him why should he? Neil was a veteran comrade; Galad, a one-day recruit. But once he described in detail the cold, lashless eye clinging to Neil's back, Dunn's expression shifted.
According to Dunn, the description matched perfectly the image of the evil god at the apex of Neil's Pathway something Galad could not possibly have invented without prior knowledge.
That left one question: what to do?
Dunn's answer was simple. Wait.
Until he made his move, Galad had to keep silent, keep steady. Attend classes. Sit with Neil. Pretend nothing was wrong.
The days that followed were grueling. He forced a smile, listened to lectures, endured the gaze of the unseen eye, and even traded jokes with Neil as if nothing was wrong. It was enough to crack a man's sanity. If not for the shred of trust he still held in Dunn, he would have suspected even the Captain of being complicit.
That pressure drove him to the firing range. Each evening after work, instead of going home, he came here to practice half an hour of repetition to steady his nerves.
Tonight, at last, the waiting would end.
He finished wiping the revolver until it gleamed, loaded each chamber with demon-hunting rounds, and slid the weapon back into the shoulder holster beneath his arm. Dusting off his clothes, he shrugged on his overcoat, left the range, and stepped into the fading daylight.
The streets were alive with the bustle of rush hour, horses and carriages weaving through crowds of people. Galad blended in, stopped at Old Will's Restaurant to pick up the dinner he had ordered, and caught a public carriage home.
By the time he arrived, the tang of gunpowder had mostly faded from his clothes.
Pushing open the door at 6 Narcissus Street, he found his younger sister, Cecilia, bent over her homework at the living room table. Her long black hair was tied into a neat ponytail, exposing a graceful, swan-like neck. She looked up as he entered, smiling brightly.
"You're home on time today."
Her ponytail swayed as she turned, a small detail that made her seem all the more lively.
"Not really."
Galad set the food box on the table. "I'm on duty tonight, so I'll be staying at the company and won't be back to sleep. Eat well, lock the door, and if anything happens, go to number 2 and find the Moretti family."
"On duty?"
"Mm. We take shifts. Tonight's mine," Galad explained. Seeing her smile falter, he added lightly, "The silver lining is that I'll get extra pay."
"I see."
Cecilia lowered her gaze and took the box. "Then tell me earlier next time… I was waiting to eat with you."
Her quiet obedience left a pang of guilt in him. He fussed over her a little longer before finally leaving, reluctant.
— — —
By the time he returned to Blackthorn Security, the sky had sunk fully into night.
The late-summer air was pleasantly cool, and a faint breeze drifted through the lobby as he stepped inside.
"Oh! Galad, good evening."
Rosanne waved from behind the desk. Once wary of him, she had grown surprisingly warm over the past few days.
"Good evening. Have you eaten?"
He smiled faintly, offered the greeting, then slipped into the lounge. Stretching out on the sofa bed, he closed his eyes, feigning rest.
He had told Cecilia he was on night duty, but in truth, this had nothing to do with guarding Charnes Gate. Dunn had specifically summoned him tonight and told him to wait quietly.
The door opened. A woman with long black hair and a cold expression walked in..... Seeka.
"Ms. Seeka, you're recovered?" Galad asked. Her steps were steady, though weariness still lingered faintly in her eyes.
"Mostly." She sat opposite him, studying him curiously.
The last time they had spoken here, he had been nothing more than a civilian under protection. Now, he was her teammate.
"I think I still owe you thanks," she said softly. "If not for you, I might not be here."
Galad shook his head. "At the time, I was just trying to survive. But we're teammates now. Protecting each other is natural."
She nodded at that.
Before either could say more, the door opened again. Dunn stepped in, clad in his black trench coat and hat.
"Galad, come with me… Ah, Seeka, you're here too. Good. You'll come as well."
"Captain, where to?" Seeka asked, half-curious, half-surprised.
"To Tingen train station," Dunn said calmly. "A High-Ranking Cleric has arrived."