The time hovered between day and evening.
The sun was neither high nor fading, casting a pale, indifferent light over Novara.
It illuminated the city without warmth, as if observing rather than protecting it.
The sky remained still, colorless and restrained.
White towers and sacred walls stood firm, their shadows short and sharp
orderly, precise, untouched.
The streets moved as they always did.
Guards at their posts.
Systems operating flawlessly.
Citizens passing by, unaware.
Yet beneath this controlled calm,
something was missing.
A silence had been altered.
A balance disturbed
not by chaos, but by absence.
The Barrier Operators were stunned.
The gate had been sealed locked completely
yet moments later, it had been breached… and opened from within.
That wasn't just an intrusion.
It was control.
Orders flooded the system.
Emergency protocols activated.
Teams worked relentlessly to isolate the malfunction, to trace its origin, to understand how it had happened.
But there was nothing.
No signal.
No trace.
No source.
The barrier responded as if it had obeyed a legitimate command.
Elsewhere
Luneth sat calmly in her position, fingers idly dancing across her compact computer.
Streams of data flowed endlessly, meaningless to anyone but her.
She smiled.
"This cloak doesn't just hide me," she thought.
"It erases my existence… even the possibility of being found."
No scan could lock onto her.
No system could acknowledge her presence.
Only one thing could expose her
removing it herself.
Her smile sharpened.
"I really should ask Number One,"
"how they managed to obtain something like this."
Luneth called Theron again.
"What's taking you so long? Hurry up!" she snapped.
"We're not in a normal area—we're in the rich district! One mistake here and we're dead!"
Theron panted as he replied,
"I'm almost at the place we agreed to meet. Where are you?"
Suddenly, something struck his foot and he fell to the ground.
He grabbed his leg, wincing.
"Ouch! What the…?"
Luneth held her head, sitting on the ground,
"Oww! You idiot, Theron! You know we're wearing something that hides our appearance,
and yet you run like a fool!"
"You kicked me with your stupid foot!"
Theron got up, sensing her presence but unable to see her.
"You're here, huh?"
He reached out with his hand and accidentally touched hers.
Her cheeks flushed red.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?!" she snapped, furious.
Suddenly, Theron grabbed Luneth's hand tightly.
From his grip, she realized he was anxious… terrified.
A moment later, a figure passed by them, moving a short distance away.
A stranger—carrying a sword strapped across his back and holding a phone—appeared out of nowhere.
They were exactly in the wealthy district, a place usually empty.
Few people ever passed through here.
The sudden appearance of this stranger made both Theron and Luneth shiver,
even though he couldn't see them because of the cloak.
The stranger spoke quietly into his phone.
"Yes… the Seal Stone was stolen. The Church hasn't issued any orders yet."
He glanced around the empty street, then continued.
"There's also someone breaching the systems from an unknown source. Whoever it is… they're skilled."
He walked a little farther away, still talking.
"The middle-class district is under attack by someone from a gang, and none of our people were sent to deal with it."
He suddenly fell silent for a moment, listening.
"Oh? Really?"
A faint scoff escaped him.
"At least they did something useful and sent a few guild members."
He paused again.
"But why didn't they send any leaders… or even vice-leaders?"
Another silence.
"This is strange. Very strange."
His voice lowered.
"I sense a hidden conspiracy behind everything the Church is doing."
"They don't care about anyone in this city except the wealthy."
"If even the smallest harm came to someone in the rich district, they'd send every soldier they have to kill the culprit."
Theron and Luneth listened in silence.
They both felt it.
This man… was not ordinary.
Luneth spoke only in her thoughts.
Is he a guild member… or a leader?
Strange. I've never seen him before.
The stranger continued speaking.
"Me? You know I'm being watched from every direction here."
"They know even the smallest details about me."
"I'd bet you're one of those assigned to monitor me as well."
A few seconds passed.
Then suddenly—
the stranger laughed softly after hearing the response on the phone.
Behind him, Theron tightened his grip on Luneth's hand and gently pulled, signaling her to stand.
He spoke in a voice barely above a breath.
"We have to go. This is our chance…"
Just as Theron and Luneth shifted their feet—
The stranger stopped.
He turned back.
Theron and Luneth froze in pure fear.
How…?
How could he sense them without seeing them?
The stranger remained still, staring directly at the space where they were standing.
Slowly, he drew part of his sword from its sheath.
His eyes were sharp.
Focused.
Silent.
Listening.
Waiting.
Ready for even the smallest sound.
The stranger slowly returned his sword to its sheath.
He turned away and began to walk off.
"I must be imagining things…"
Only after he disappeared from sight—
Luneth and Theron broke into a sprint.
They held onto each other's hands tightly, using the contact to keep track of one another,
unable to see each other because of the cloaks that erased their presence completely.
Theron spoke as he ran.
"We need to get out through the rich district gate—fast."
"We have to reach Number One!"
Luneth ran beside him, listening, her grip firm.
"Tch—damn it!"
"We need to be faster!"
A few minutes later, they reached the gate.
It was about to close.
Without warning, Theron scooped Luneth into his arms, causing her to freeze in embarrassment.
"Hey—! W-what are you doing?!"
Theron didn't answer.
He charged his energy, his steps growing heavier and faster,
then leapt forward—
clearing the gate just seconds before it slammed shut behind them.
A guard stood nearby, speaking into his radar.
"The gate has been sealed as ordered."
"Begin a full search for the Seal across every inch of the rich district!"
Outside—
Luneth let out a relieved breath.
"Good… we made it out in time."
Theron was still carrying her in his arms.
They had already passed through the rich district and reached the middle-class zone,
Theron sprinting at full speed.
Luneth looked at him, puzzled.
"Where did you put the Seal device?"
Theron answered calmly, eyes fixed forward.
"I hid it inside my cloak."
"Alright… but put me down. I can run on my own."
Theron replied without slowing.
"Don't worry. There's no need."
Luneth grabbed his hair and tugged hard.
"I said put me down!"
Theron winced, shutting his left eye.
"Ow—ow—ow! That hurts!"
Luneth released him for a moment.
Her expression shifted—serious now.
She brushed her short blue hair back and finally decided to ask.
"What will you do after you give the Seal to Number One…?"
Theron answered without hesitation, his tone firm.
"I don't really know."
"Maybe I'll try to convince him that there are better ways."
"Ways that don't destroy Novara… that don't kill people."
He paused briefly.
"He promised me he wouldn't kill the innocent."
Luneth clicked her tongue, clearly displeased.
"You're really naive."
"You trust his words just like that?"
"Just because he's… what? A little kind?"
Her voice lowered.
"I only joined because of you."
Theron froze.
His expression shifted—shock, tension, a hint of embarrassment.
"W-what?!"
Luneth scowled at his reaction.
Even without seeing him, she knew exactly what his face looked like.
"Why do you always focus on the words that please you, you idiot?!"
Her expression softened, sadness flickering across her face.
"I'm just… afraid he might hurt you."
"Or worse…"
Theron suddenly stopped.
He lowered the hood from his face, letting his features show.
The alley was empty—only a few stray cats nearby.
"Luneth, don't worry."
"I'll be fine. I promise."
She kept staring at him.
Hearing his words…
Seeing his usual smile again…
Hope quietly settled in her chest.
She slipped down from his arms and stood in front of him.
"You're such an idiot…"
She looked away, then back at him.
"But you know… I really lo..."
💥 BOOM!
A powerful explosion echoed nearby.
Both of them flinched.
Theron immediately pulled his hood back over his head and looked around.
"That must be Deton."
"Come on—quick!"
They rushed out of the alley, running toward the source of the explosion.
And what they saw…
Left them completely stunned.
Theron and Loneth reach a long street.
When they look ahead, they see Deton standing proudly,
with Deton's twins lying motionless on the ground behind him.
Theron looks at him and whispers:
"It's clear he won't notice our presence because of the cloak…"
Loneth replies calmly:
"Yes."
Deton stood there, feeling proud after defeating the twins and completing his mission successfully.
He muttered quietly to himself:
"The rest is up to you, Number Seven… I hope you've reached the leader…"
His muscular body remained upright despite the exhaustion.
His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling slowly.
The wind played with his brown hair,
two long strands swaying across his face.
He was clearly tired…
yet standing was the only option he allowed himself.
Number Three looked around calmly, then spoke quietly to himself:
"As for me… I suppose my time here is almost up.
But really… man… I'm practically in the city center, and they haven't sent anyone strong yet.
They must be mocking me.
I guess I should head to the area they call the Wealthy District…
Surely, the strongest are there!"
At the Guild Agency,
Ravena, the head of the agency, continued to watch the events unfold through the cameras in silence.
Her long black hair swayed gently over her shoulders as her eyes tracked every movement in the city.
Suddenly, she smiled softly:
"They've finally arrived…"
Outside, Deton took a single step forward, then stopped, glancing around, his hair glinting with the energy radiating from his body.
Then a loud voice called out to him:
"Behind you, you fool…!"
A mysterious figure appeared, holding a spear aimed directly at Deton.
The figure looked at the fallen police and Fenrir twins on the ground and spoke coldly:
"You will deeply regret what you've done."
Deton smiled and stepped closer:
"New faces… finally! Some fun! Come, face me!"
Suddenly, Deton felt another surge of energy beside him.
He glanced to his left and spotted another figure.
The person stood there, wearing a strange mask:
"I will finish you as quickly as possible."
Deton grew even more excited—it seemed his opponent was not just one person.
A little further, atop a distant building, a man with red hair and black glasses raised his hand toward Deton, emitting a yellow beam.
He smiled faintly.
Deton hadn't noticed him yet, but he was clearly intrigued by the spear wielder.
Then suddenly, behind him, without warning, the Fenrir twins appeared, struggling, their faces full of anger:
"Wait… wait… it's hard to decide who to attack first like this…"
The Guild members had arrived.
Far away, Theron watched the situation with Deton, clearly worried.
He whispered softly:
"D… Deton…"
Luneth placed her hand on Theron's shoulder and said:
"Theron… we're not here to waste any more time. Let's go. Don't worry about this human monster… he'll be fine no matter what happens."
Theron and Loneth continued running, leaving everything behind them, far from Deton's battle.
Their hearts raced, each step bringing them closer to their goal, every moment heightening the tension.
Meanwhile, Deton stopped for a moment, surveying his opponents around him.
He smiled with excitement, his muscular body radiating immense energy, ready to face all of his foes at once.
In his heart, there was no fear—only the thrill of the challenge.
Every opponent before him was an opportunity to display his power, and every move they made would be met with a faster, stronger response.
The long street had become a stage for the upcoming clash, the air thick with tension, as if the entire city itself was witnessing a battle that would be remembered in history.
Theron and Luneth reached the poor district from a nearby alley.
The scene was chaotic
Police filled the streets, while groups of troublemakers were restrained, handcuffed, some shouting, others staring at the ground in silent defeat.
Theron paused, a faint sadness crossing his face.
They weren't monsters…
Just people trapped on the forgotten side of Novara.
Then suddenly
He looked up.
Toward the rooftops.
Above the rooftops of Novara, the battle had reached its peak.
The air was saturated with energy, and the gray mist still drifted between the buildings like a lingering shadow.
Scars of darkness and ash marked the walls, silent witnesses to the ferocity of the clash.
Kryne stood his ground.
A Guild Agency employee who usually sat behind surveillance screens—
now standing at the very heart of the fight.
His build was lean but solid,
wearing his practical coat and brown cap, his hair partially hidden beneath it, a few strands sticking out carelessly.
A cigarette burned between his fingers, its smoke blending with the gray mist.
His expression was calm, slightly tired, but his eyes were steady… as if this were just an unexpected overtime shift.
Across from him stood Noir.
His body leaned forward,
gripping two dark swords, their blades gleaming amid the distorted energy.
He wore a black mask, completely concealing his face, leaving only two eyes glowing with terrifying dark power.
Every movement he made was sharp and aggressive, as though darkness itself flowed from his body.
The energies collided once more.
A gray spark crashed against dense black energy,
and the rooftop trembled beneath their feet.
Kryne was breathing heavily, his breaths uneven, yet he remained standing firm.
He looked at Noir and spoke calmly despite his exhaustion:
"You're very strong… unbelievably strong."
"But why do you keep fighting, even though most of your allies have already fallen?"
"If I were in your place… I would've surrendered by now."
In front of him, Noir gripped his two swords tightly, breathing heavily as well.
Blood dripped from beneath his strange mask, while terrifying dark energy poured out from his body, warping the air around him.
He replied in a low but sharp voice:
"I have a goal… and I'm very close to achieving it."
"I won't surrender so easily."
Kryne exhaled slowly, then reached up and adjusted his cap on his head once more.
He spoke quietly:
"Pride… then."
Suddenly
Kryne's phone began to ring.
An irritated sound escaped him, as if he were saying without words:
"…This is not the right time."
Kryne looked at his phone—
and froze for a moment.
Celestine.
He answered quickly, his voice filled with surprise:
"C… Celestine?"
Her voice came through the line, exhaustion clear in her tone:
"K… Kryne… how are things on your end?"
Kryne's tone shifted instantly:
"What happened to you? Are you okay?!"
She replied quickly, trying to reassure him:
"Don't worry, don't worry… we're fine."
"Our opponent is just extremely strong… terrifyingly strong."
After a brief pause, she continued:
"I just wanted to let you know about that boy… Milo."
"We left him fighting that criminal named Toxivar."
Kryne tightened his grip slightly, then spoke firmly:
"Give me about ten minutes."
"I might head straight to their location afterward."
Relief could be heard in Celestine's voice:
"Alright… thank you so much."
Kryne ended the call before finishing his last words, murmuring:
"…You're welcome."
He lowered the phone slowly.
Then lifted his gaze back toward Noir.
The mist still surrounded them.
And the battle… was not over yet.
Kryne stepped forward toward Noir, his movements calm but confident.
The casual indifference from before was gone—
there was now true determination in his eyes.
He muttered in a low, firm voice:
"Damn… looks like I really have to fight seriously this time."
"My friend… needs me."
Noir sensed the change instantly.
His body tensed as his thoughts raced with a silent warning:
"…His energy flow has changed."
"It's stronger… heavier than before."
Kryne slowly raised his hand,
clenched his right fist,
and gray energy began to coil around him with unprecedented density.
He looked straight at Noir, his gaze sharp and unwavering, and said with absolute seriousness:
"I'll finish this… in ten minutes."
The air trembled.
The mist stirred once more.
At the same time,
Theron and Lonith were still running nonstop,
their breaths uneven,
their cloaks continuing to conceal them as they neared the poor district.
Suddenly—
a faint ringing echoed inside Theron's ear.
He tightened his grip on Lonith's hand,
pressed a finger to his ear,
and opened the connection.
"H-Hello?"
A familiar voice answered.
Calm… confident.
Number One:
"Have you arrived?"
Theron replied while running:
"Almost. I'm near the poor district. Where are you?"
The voice shifted slightly—
then Number One's image appeared through the call.
He was standing beside a massive gate—
the exit gate of Novara.
Armed guards surrounded it,
all of their eyes now fixed on him.
He wore a brown cloak,
standing firmly as if the entire place meant nothing to him.
Number One:
"I'm at Novara's exit gate…"
He paused briefly before adding,
"…but it seems it's closed."
Theron's eyes widened with concern.
"That's a problem…"
"How are you supposed to leave like this?"
"We can't breach this gate—it doesn't use the same system as the rich district gates."
The reply came instantly, without hesitation, strangely reassuring:
Number One:
"Don't worry… everything will be fine."
"Trust me."
Then he smiled faintly—
a smile with no fear behind it.
"Goodbye for now."
"Hurry up… I'm waiting for you eagerly."
The call ended.
Theron froze for just a moment…
his heart pounding.
Lonith squeezed his hand.
"Come on… we don't have time."
They resumed running.
Somewhere nearby,
a sealed gate,
tense guards,
and Number One standing alone…
As if he were waiting for something very big to happen.
Number One stood still,
his eyes scanning the surroundings,
sensing the guards' energy nearby even though no one could see him—
the cloak he wore concealed every feature of his body.
Yet, his presence alone raised suspicion,
and a few guards slowly stepped forward, whispering among themselves:
"What is he doing here?"
"I've never seen him in this area before…"
Number One remained silent,
the shadows of his cloak shifting lightly in the breeze,
ready for the final move.
he slowly raised his hand
and pressed inside his ear four times.
— Click…
— Click…
— Click…
— Click…
He called Number Four.
Number Four answered the call in a faint voice:
"Yes?"
He was sitting on the ground,
shirtless,
his entire body exhausted after the last battle.
Beside him lay the bodies of the police, those who had tried to arrest him after his defeat against Bran.
Number One responded to zeric number four
"Are you ready?"
Number Four smiled slightly, full of confidence:
"Of course."
He stood up from the ground abruptly,
then shouted loudly:
"My muscles huuurrrt!"
Number One responded calmly through the connection, still serious:
"Zeric… I want you to come and bring Toxifar Number Five, and Crystel Number Two with you."
Zeric felt a flicker of surprise at Number One's words:
"W-what about Number Three…?"
Number One's face showed a trace of worry as he answered:
"I'm afraid he won't be coming with us this time…"
Number Four understood immediately.
He placed his hand firmly on the ground,
and began charging his dark-gray energy with intense focus.
Suddenly, a gigantic insect emerged from his hand,
with six legs and long horns,
its appearance terrifying and overwhelmingly powerful.
Zeric mounted the creature,
and with a single touch, the insect understood his commands completely.
It surged forward at incredible speed,
heading straight toward the location where Milo and Toxifar were.
Zeric shouted loudly, firm and clear:
"I'm coming… Number One!"
Number One ended the call,
placed his hands calmly into his pockets,
and scanned the surroundings with sharp, alert eyes,
waiting for his allies so they could escape together.
A few guards stepped in front of him,
asking sharply:
"You… what are you doing here?"
Number One smiled faintly,
his voice low and steady as he said:
"I… am waiting for fate to arrive."
Some of the guards started laughing,
mocking Number One's calm and mysterious demeanor.
But the guard who had asked the question grew slightly angry:
"Are you mocking me?"
Calmly, Number One raised his hand and pulled the hood off his head.
The laughter stopped immediately,
the guard froze in place,
his smug grin vanished the moment he saw Number One's face,
his eyes widening in shock.
--- Past ---
Celestine and selvara VS Number two (Crystel)
Amid everything that had happened on this eventful day,
there was one battle yet to claim the spotlight.
While Kryne and Noir clashed, Bran faced Number Four, the twins tangled with Number Three, and Milo struggled against Toxifar in every corner of Novara,
another confrontation brewed—deadlier, more intense, hidden from all eyes.
Time seemed to slow for those witnessing it up close.
Celestine stood with an effortless dominance, her long black hair streaked with subtle violet tones tied loosely at the back. A faint, mocking smile played on her lips, her eyes gleaming with calculated amusement. Her voice, even in silence, carried an almost tangible magnetism—calm, teasing, yet laden with authority. There was a lazy elegance in her stance, a sense of unshakable control, as if she knew the outcome before the first strike was even made. Yet beneath her composed exterior, her manipulative streak whispered of subtle tricks and calculated provocations.
Beside her, Silvara radiated sharp precision and unyielding determination. Her long white hair streaked with black framed a face hardened by logic and discipline. Every movement was measured, deliberate, and radiated analytical focus. Her cool demeanor masked an inner fire, a strict code of honor that respected allies and punished any challenge with ruthless efficiency. But even she bore a fragile vulnerability, hidden deep beneath layers of strength, which only those who crossed her boundaries would glimpse.
Before them stood the target of their scrutiny a figure exuding raw, overwhelming power. Number Two.
Even standing still, Number Two dominated the space. Her presence was suffocating, a quiet force that seemed to bend the air around her. Every detail spoke of lethal intent: the sharpness in her gaze, the subtle tension in her stance, and the aura of authority that demanded both fear and respect. Time itself seemed to hesitate as the three of them locked eyes across the battlefield, anticipation crackling like static between them.
The calm before the storm was almost unbearable. The city's chaos faded into the background. Here, in this hidden corner of Novara, the air itself recognized the gravity of what was about to unfold.