The night air in Solymaria was thick with smog and silence. In a dim alleyway tucked between rusted high-rises, three men huddled together, tattoos marking them as members of the notorious Velcrassa gang. Shadows clung to the walls as they whispered hurriedly about their next move.

  "Everything's set," one of them muttered. "But we need to move fast."

  Then, without warning, a figure stepped into the alley — tall, cloaked in a brown overcoat, face obscured by the brim of a low hat. The man raised a sleek, matte-black pistol and pointed it at them.

  "Shit!" hissed Shawn, the youngest of the trio.

  Before any shots could be fired, a thick mist erupted from Nick's hands, enveloping the alley in a cold haze. They darted away as their pursuer calmly walked forward, his eyes glowing an eerie blue beneath the shadow of his hat. It wasn’t ordinary sight — it was his Divine Power. One glance was all he needed to know where his targets were headed.

  Silently, he pursued them through the veil of mist, weaving through the night like a phantom. He tracked them to a crumbling, long-abandoned house in the outer sector. As he crouched beneath a broken window, he overheard the gang's frantic conversation.

  "Fuck! That was close," Shawn growled. "We can't let some shady bastard catch us now. That guy wasn't normal."

  "He came out of nowhere," Nick muttered, still panting. "It doesn't make sense."

  "Enough whining," snapped Jamie, the leader, brushing soot from his jacket. "Our mission takes priority. Move it, you bastards."

  Inside, they shifted an old lantern onto the wall. A soft click echoed through the silence, revealing a secret passage that opened beneath a wooden panel. The investigator narrowed his eyes.

  "Jackpot," he whispered. Then, pressing two fingers to the communicator in his ear, he murmured, "HQ, I got what we need."

  A crackling voice responded, "Copy that. Return immediately."

  The agent, now revealed as Johnny, entered HQ under the veil of night. The facility, hidden beneath what appeared to be a decrepit apartment complex in Sector 7, buzzed with quiet energy. His sharp buzz cut, defined jawline, and piercing blue eyes gave him the look of a seasoned operative. At six-foot-two, he carried authority with every step.

  Waiting for him was Agent Alexia — blonde, sharp-eyed, holding a glowing data tablet in one hand. She looked up and grinned.

  "Johnny. You did it. This data… it's more than we ever hoped for. Took our other agents years. You? One week."

  He gave a faint smirk. "Guess my powers aren't just for show."

  "Tracking, right? You analyze movement paths with just one glance. You didn't mention that in your last report."

  "Surprised you caught that," Johnny said, eyeing her. "I thought I was being subtle."

  Alexia smirked. "It’s my job to notice everything."

  Together, they headed into the meeting chamber — a regal-looking room lit with golden fixtures and decorated in relics of a bygone age. At the center was a polished wooden table surrounded by six high-ranking officials. Commander Eugene sat at the head, pale-skinned with slick white hair and hawk-like eyes. Beside him, General Nicolas rubbed his temples, clearly unimpressed.

  Eugene sighed. "You followed the Velcrassa gang to an abandoned building, but didn’t inspect further? What if it was a decoy? A trap? You're either reckless or naive."

  Johnny remained unfazed. "If I'd approached, I would’ve alerted them. The location is real. I guarantee it."

  General Nicolas scoffed. "And now what? Do we send another agent to clean up what you wouldn't finish? Are we expendable to you now?"

  Agent Bahamas crossed his arms. "If you're so confident, why not go back to yourself? Or are you only good at hiding in shadows?"

  Johnny clenched his jaw. "I told you — I’ll take full responsibility. No one else goes in."

  Eugene leaned forward, gazing like steel. "Then what's your solution? Come back and report? Wait for applause?"

  Johnny smirked. "Actually, I have someone in mind. Someone who can go in and out without leaving a trace. A hitman.

  "Who?" the room asked in unison.

  Johnny leaned back in his chair. “Let’s just say, the mission is as good as done!”

  The scene shifted to a dim, low-rent apartment. The floorboards creaked as Arthur sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his baggy eyes. His messy black hair stuck out at odd angles. For five minutes, he sat in silence, staring at the wall, wondering what day it even was.

  Eventually, he shuffled into the bathroom, lifted the toilet lid, and relieved himself. Standing at six-foot-three, he had to bend over to look into the low-set mirror. His reflection stared back — pale skin, jet-black hair parted down the middle, sharp hunter-blue eyes with slitted pupils, and fanged teeth that glinted under the flickering light. His muscular, chiseled body flexed slightly as he adjusted his hair.

  "Arthur!" came a shout from the kitchen. "Get your ass in here. Dinner’s ready."

  He grinned. "Finally! I’m starving like a bear going into hibernation."

  In the kitchen, Yumi stood in an apron, holding a pan of pancakes. He was shorter than Arthur by a few inches, slim but fit, with messy blond hair and icy blue eyes.

  "You could help with cooking once in a while, you know," Yumi muttered.

  Arthur plopped into his chair. "Nah. You do it better. Plus, I do plenty... I think."

  Yumi rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

  Just then, Yumi’s phone buzzed. He picked it up. On the other end, a gruff, irritated voice barked, "Yumi. You and that bastard roommate of yours got a job. And this one's a big one. Real risk. Get here. Now."

  "Big risk?" Yumi said, frowning. "Since when do you give warnings?"

  "It's a Code Red. No jokes. Get moving."

  Yumi hung up and turned to Arthur, who was midway through devouring his stack.

  "Stop eating, fatass. We’ve got a Code Red. Move."

  Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh, damn. That serious, huh?"

  Minutes later, they walked through Neo Tokyo's underbelly. Midnight was loud — gamblers, drunks, and neon signs buzzed with life. They passed through the red-light district where trouble brewed in every shadow.

  A woman leaned out of a doorway. "Hey, cutie. You finally going to say yes?"

  Yumi groaned. "For the last time, no."

  Arthur chuckled. "Man, girls dig you. Say yes for once. Might do you good."

  "It's serious this time, Arthur. Focus."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The pair turned a corner, headed toward a steel building disguised as a failing bar — the secret office of their employer. Inside, answers waited, and Arthur couldn’t help but smirk.

  "Code Red, huh? This might actually be fun."

  In an ambiguous room, dimly lit and lined with wooden furniture, two men in black suits stood guarding the door. Their sharp eyes scanned Arthur and Yumi with suspicion, as if they were strangers. Of course, they weren’t—Arthur and Yumi had walked through this very door hundreds of times before. Still, protocol was protocol.

  These inspections weren’t for show. They existed to prevent infiltrators from disguising themselves and slipping inside. After all, this business had earned thousands of enemies over the years—people who would do anything to see the boss’s head roll.

  After the inspection, the two were cleared up to enter.

  Inside waited the man who had summoned them. This was no ordinary businessman. He was Tony Chigago, the head of the largest hitman syndicate in Velcrassa. His very appearance carried the weight of a man who had seen everything: a large burn scar across his right eye, which had left him blinded; a short and stocky build; a mildly cold, irritated expression; and piercing hunter-like eyes. His bald head gleamed under the lights, his red suit contrasting sharply against his presence.

  For Tony, this was more than work—it was respect for his field, a craft built on danger and survival.

  Arthur and Yumi stepped in, and the bodyguards were dismissed, leaving only the three of them in the room. Confidentiality was absolute. The conversation began.

  Tony leaned back with a dead-serious expression.“...Well then, you’re both fired.”

  Arthur’s eyes with a nonchalant expression of unconcern and worry felt no sense of feelings towards the comment as if he simply couldn’t care less.

  Beside him, Yumi frowned, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and concern. “What’s happening? Did we do something wrong?”

  Tony scratched the back of his head with one hand and waved the other dramatically, his lips curling into a grin.“HAH! I’m joking, I’m joking. Just wanted to scare you two. Lighten up a bit.”

  Arthur and Yumi let out long, annoyed sighs in unison. Their thoughts overlapped perfectly.

  Once the mood settled, Tony’s expression sharpened again. “Listen up. This mission is one of the most crucial I’ve seen in years. Originally, I was going to send Chase and Picasso, but they’re both tied up with association tasks.”

  The Association. That single word carried weight. It referred to the special enforcement unit dealing with “humanitary weapons”—in simpler terms, beings with extraordinary spiritual abilities. The military and police could handle criminals, but they were powerless against the malice, monstrosities, and ever-growing number of powerful species threatening the world.

  That was the Association’s duty.

  Within it, combatants were classified by rank: E, D, C, B, A, S, SS, and above them all, the dreaded Calamity Threats. Members of the Association, known as the Royal Elites, were the only ones capable of subjugating such threats. Among them, only three SS-ranked warriors existed across the entire globe.

  Tony sighed, clearly unimpressed.“You two refusing to join the Association still baffles me. But hey, it works for me, so whatever. Anyway, back to business. This time, we’ve received a special request from the Coalition of Duty themselves.”

  Yumi’s eyes widened. The Coalition? Requesting us? That doesn’t make sense... They’re one of the most powerful, dangerous groups in existence. Why would they ask a hitman syndicate for help?

  He glanced at Arthur, hoping for a reaction, but found only a blank stare pointed at the ceiling. That irritated him even more.

  Tony chuckled bitterly.“I get it—it doesn’t add up. But apparently, this mission involves the Velcrassa Mafia. And somehow, they’re aware of the strength of our individual members. I don’t know how, but considering their line of work, I can guess a reason or two. Bottom line is—they know if they pay us enough, we’ll be their dogs for the day.”

  Yumi didn’t hesitate. He didn’t express fear or doubt—only resolve.“Sir... when can we start?”

  Tony’s cold expression shifted into a smile.“Tonight. Does that work for my finest employees?”

  As the contract was sealed, Yumi felt the weight of unease press against him. He did not yet grasp the exact position he had been placed under. In this world of three continents and six great nations, power was never evenly balanced. Each nation fostered unique individuals, each bound by their own standards. But among them thrived countless organizations that spat on order, bending themselves toward malice and corruption in every conceivable form.

  Of these, Velcrassa was infamous—its reach stretching across three nations, its influence unmatched in the underworld. It was no surprise that the fangs of the Coalition of Duty had turned their gaze toward it.

  The Coalition of Duty was no simple branch office. It was one of the primary divisions of IDTCON—the International Defense and Tactical Control Organization. Their members were never weak. On the contrary, they were elites among elites, entrusted to investigate and dismantle threats beyond the grasp of ordinary militaries or police.

  For Yumi, this request only proved one thing: this situation is incredibly risky… but why am I so thrilled? He could feel excitement burning through his veins like fire. With a devious smile—one that betrayed his normally composed personality—he whispered to himself:

  “This is going to eat me alive.”

  Tony Chigago escorted Arthur and Yumi to the designated rendezvous point. To their surprise, the location was not a fortress, nor a battlefield, but… an amusement park.

  The great city of Solmyra glittered in the distance as neon lights flickered over idle rides and rusted roller coasters. Yumi’s brows furrowed as his lips twisted into a sarcastic grin. Arthur, however, tilted his head with a dopey expression and thought to himself:

  Wait… is the mission to ride games? Did boss finally lose his mind?

  Before Yumi could scold him, a figure leaning against a wall to their left made his presence known. He casually tossed a plastic water bottle their way. In less than a tenth of a second, Yumi snatched it from the air without even flinching.

  The man’s eyes widened, then curved into a smirk.

  “Not bad. So, you’re the ones Chigago sent? Guess this might be interesting after all.”

  This was Johnny—a Coalition agent assigned to oversee their cooperation.

  Arthur blinked, nudged Yumi, and muttered in a deadpan voice:“Hey, Yumi… this guy’s talking to us. What’s the polite thing to do again?”

  “I think he’s the one who hired us, buddy.”

  Johnny’s smirk faltered. …Are they idiots? Or are they just pretending? he thought, irritated.

  He crossed his arms and said coldly, “Enough chatter. Follow me. We’ve got no time for mistakes or distractions.”

  Yumi’s thoughts churned. So… is the mission really at this amusement park? Should I ask? Before he could decide, Arthur raised his hand like a clueless schoolboy.

  “So, uh… is the mission at the amusement park?”

  Johnny froze mid-step. “...Huh?” His head tilted in disbelief. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

  Arthur scratched his cheek. “Well, I mean… why exactly are we here? Wouldn’t it make more sense to meet at the mission site instead?”

  Johnny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then, in a tone that was sharp but measured, he explained:

  “This place is crowded, and therefore, the least suspicious. Velcrassa already has their guard up. Their security has likely expanded to the point where even a single

  unfamiliar gaze would set them off. We couldn’t risk planning at the target location. Here, we blend in. And, conveniently, the amusement park is only a ten-minute drive away from the operation site.”

  He turned back toward them, his expression serious “Now, get in the car. I’ll explain on the way.”

  The ride was quiet, filled only with the low hum of the engine. Then Johnny began to brief them.

  “We’re hunting the Velcrassa gang. I’m sure you’re both aware of their reputation.”

  Arthur and Yumi nodded.

  “Good. As for myself—my ability allows me to foresee a person’s location for thirty minutes after I’ve laid eyes on them. I tracked a few of their men, followed their trail right to the heart of their base. But I didn’t engage. The mission was too risky alone. I can fight, sure—but against specialized defense abilities, I would’ve been crushed.”

  Arthur slumped in his seat, unimpressed. “So basically, you’re a coward.”

  A sharp slap! echoed in the car as Yumi smacked Arthur’s face with a comically exaggerated motion. “Idiot! He’s cautious, not cowardly!”

  Johnny chuckled under his breath. “No, it’s fine. He’s not entirely wrong. But I couldn’t afford failure. If Velcrassa caught me, they’d dismantle everything we’ve worked toward before we even began.”

  Yumi leaned forward. “So, what’s the plan?”

  Johnny’s eyes sharpened. “Simple. We divide. Arthur, you’re with me. Yumi, you’ll stay on lookout. Once we locate their headquarters—most likely an underground

  complex, your job is to signal us from above. Based on intel, the HQ should be marked by an unusually large central building.”

  “Wait… intel?” Yumi’s voice spiked. “I thought you barely had anything! Where did this information come from?”

  Johnny smirked. “The Dark Market. They sell anything—for the right price. An organization like Velcrassa can’t sneeze without the Market knowing about it. And if you

  pay enough, you’ll learn what they know.”

  The car screeched to a halt. Johnny opened the door, his coat whipping in the wind. He glanced back at the two hitmen, eyes cold and unyielding.

  “Well then. This is it. Time to move out.”

  As the night passed into midnight, the town seemed dreadfully silent. Streetlights flickered, dogs howled in the distance, and the humid air clung heavy, strange for the middle of January.

  Johnny waited behind an alleyway adjacent to the location he had scouted earlier, where he tracked the gang members entering. Yet, a problem arose.

  “So… what is this security? You never mentioned this part, Mr. Detective,” Yumi said, his face drawn in a chibi-like pout.

  “Well… I expected something like this, but not to this extent. The obvious choice would’ve been to erase the entrance and craft a new one—but apparently, this was for the best. I suppose.” Johnny let out a comedic yet blameful chuckle.

  “Is it even a problem?” Arthur said with unshakable confidence. “I sense three snipers, five guard dogs, fifteen men sneaking around… and one who feels suspiciously tough.”

  Johnny raised a brow, unsure whether to be impressed or concerned. “To be honest, I’m open to suggestions here. Do either of you have abilities that could help us get through without being noticed?”

  “No, no, no—nothing like that,” Yumi and Arthur answered in unison.

  Johnny cartoonishly fell flat on his back in shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Then we need another plan, or this mission won’t even start.”

  “You know,” Arthur said casually, “we could just beat them all down quickly and walk inside.”

  Yumi smacked him on the head. “Dumbass! The point is to sneak in. If the entire guard disappears in five minutes, they’ll know something’s wrong.”

  “There must be another way,” Johnny muttered, rubbing his chin. “Well… I do have a plan. But it’s a 50/50 gamble. Are you up to it?”

  The words weren’t born from panic—rather, Johnny had prepared for all possible outcomes.

  The truth was, Johnny Vandersin wasn’t some ordinary investigator. He was cautious, meticulous traits born from his past.

  “Well, I’m not really worried about those odds,” Arthur said casually, flicking a lighter and bringing the cigarette to his lips. “Frankly, it’d be easier to just walk straight through and beat them up.”

  “All right, here’s the plan,” Johnny continued. “To put it bluntly, I’ll draw attention—taunt one of the guards stationed outside. Once every eye is on me, you two slip inside. Stay sharp. Anyone who looks your way becomes a liability.”

  Yumi frowned, unimpressed, his gaze shifting briefly to Arthur before settling back on Johnny.“That sounds flawed. And honestly… anticlimactic.”

  Johnny chuckled, as if he’d been expecting the criticism.“I’m not finished. It sounds simple, sure—but it isn’t. This isn’t a clean operation. The moment you’re detected, the Velcrassa alert system goes live. Once that happens, subtlety is no longer an option. That’s why timing matters.”

  Arthur exhaled smoke slowly.“Let’s say we make it inside without being spotted. What about you? What are you doing while we’re sneaking around?”

  Johnny’s smile sharpened.“My divine ability has two properties. First—by fixing my gaze on a target, I can track their exact location for thirty minutes. Second, I can determine the safest direction toward that target, provided there are no major obstructions.”

  He paused, letting it sink in.

  “To put it simply: if you consent—fully—I can guide you the entire way. No wrong turns. No surprises.”

  Arthur and Yumi exchanged a glance. Impressed—but cautious.

  (So that’s why it’s still a fifty-fifty… we’re relying entirely on the distraction.)

  Yumi crossed his arms.“And how exactly do you plan on taunting them?”

  Johnny shrugged.“I’ll act drunk. Loud. Obnoxious. Enough to make them threaten to kill me if I don’t leave.”

  Arthur raised an eyebrow.“And how much time does that buy us?”

  “Ten seconds,” Johnny replied flatly. “If we’re lucky.”

  Arthur smiled, unbothered.“Ten seconds is plenty.”

  Johnny’s expression hardened as he turned toward the exit.“Good. Then let’s move. Arthur—Yumi—we begin now.”