The underground metro of Bloofort smelled of rust and damp stone. Neon signs hung like dead fireflies, their light flickering over cracked tiles and puddles. In a small, forgotten station, an elderly woman walked slowly toward a blank stretch of wall. Her steps were careful but steady; despite her age, there was purpose in the way she moved.

She reached the wall and pressed her palm against the cold concrete. For a heartbeat nothing happened. Then she lifted her other hand and whispered a single word in a language that tasted like old iron. Her fingers traced a sigil in the air. A faint glow answered — a mana signature, soft and precise. The wall sighed and split open like a door breathing out.

A voice echoed from within the darkness. "Welcome, Sofiya."

Sofiya's shoulders relaxed. She slipped through the gate and closed it behind her. Inside the hidden room, dim lamps burned along an old bar counter. The air smelled of boiled tea and machine oil. She moved to a small chair and with slow, practiced fingers began to undo a talisman wrapped around her wrist.

The charm tore apart like brittle paper. As the last threads fell away, the old skin beneath folded and smoothed. Sofiya's joints stopped creaking. Her face, weathered and lined a moment before, settled back into a younger, kinder shape. She fashioned a plain maxi over her new clothes and straightened her posture. It was a small, private miracle — one only she could perform.

At the far end of the room, a man hunched over a dusty computer. He didn't look up when she walked past, but his fingers never stopped tapping. Sofiya moved to the counter, took a glass, and poured herself a drink. She sat on the worn sofa nearby and kept her voice low.

"Justin, don't send me into another death-match," she said, leaning on the armrest.

The man glanced at her without turning his whole body. "So how is he?" he asked.

Sofiya drew a breath. "Peak Rank 4, but he's strong. If I had stayed there even a few more times, he might have killed me." She paused, swallowing the last of her drink. "He's different, Justin."

Justin took the glass from her hand and gulped down the remainder. He set it down with a soft clink and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. The monitor lit up with a clutter of windows — maps, logs, and one small profile with a single name.

"I thought so," Justin said. "Anyway, we should leave the city. Killing him now is out of the question."

Sofiya stared. "What? You can kill him. The client already offered a lot. Why back down?" She folded tighter into the sofa as if bracing herself.

Justin's fingers did not stop. "I was checking his background. I found a little, but enough."

"What did you find?" Sofiya asked, leaning forward.

Justin pushed the laptop toward her. On the screen, a simple file showed a name, a school, and a rank. " He's a student at Etherlight Academy."

Sofiya froze. "Etherlight? How is that possible? He's peak Rank 4 — if he were from Etherlight he should have graduated already."

Justin shrugged. "He's only in his first year." He looked at her. "I don't think he's taking pills or cheating. His aura is too pure. Even as a Rank 4, his power measures above Rank 5."

Sofiya's mind ran fast. "So he's a secret talent? Greater than Marcus Ardent or Daelen Voncrest?"

Justin gave a small, grim smile. "Either that, or someone at Etherlight is hiding him. There's not much more on him. I couldn't dig deeper—my hacking only goes so far." He swiveled the screen so she could see: the profile only listed Ezra's full name, his mother's name, his school, and an official cultivation rank marked as three.

Sofiya blinked, feeling a cold wind pass through her chest. The data was small, but the hole in it felt like a warning.

"So what do we do?" she asked, voice thin.

Justin leaned back and blew out a tired breath. "Return the client's money. Go underground. Leave Bloofort. We take our cut and hope we don't get caught."

Sofiya closed her eyes. She thought of the boy's eyes in the alley — bright, steady, unafraid. She thought of the way his power had moved, as if it belonged to a different age.

When she opened her eyes, her face was calm. "Fine," she said. "But if we run, we must be smart. We can't vanish without a trail. And if Etherlight is involved, staying hidden won't be easy."

Justin tapped a few more keys, setting other windows to lock. "We leave tonight. Pack light. We go to the docks and find passage south. Nobody asks questions there."

Sofiya rose slowly from the sofa. In the dim light, her younger face looked almost like an ordinary woman's — tired but determined.

Outside, the old metro station creaked and the city's distant hum pressed against the walls. Under the concrete and neon, decisions moved like ripples. A small file on a dusty laptop had changed everything.

Somewhere above, Bloofort turned, indifferent and hungry. Down here, two of its secrets planned to slip away before anyone could tighten the net.

__________________________

The room was small, square, and cold. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, its pale light spilling across steel walls that had seen too many confessions. The smell of iron and stale smoke clung to the air.

Ezra sat at the center of it all, in a chair bolted to the floor. His wrists were locked with mana suppression chains, glowing faintly with runes that pulsed every few seconds, reminding him of their strength.

The door clicked open. A woman in a sharp military uniform stepped inside. Ezra looked up and felt his heart skip for a second — in his mind he saw the name Mary Clark, Major. He kept his face blank; nothing on the outside betrayed the shock.

Major Mary Clark took the chair opposite him and folded her hands. "We meet again," she said.

Ezra did not answer.

Mary slid a folder across the table and spoke without ceremony. "You destroyed public property during that fight. Five civilians were injured, and many cars were smashed. Do you accept the charges?"

Ezra looked at her. "Yes."

For a moment, Mary was taken aback. Then she forced a professional smile. "Very well. Two years in jail and a fine of five lakh gold. If you have a defense, present it in court." She rose and moved toward the door.

Before she could leave, the door opened again. Elena walked in, eyes sharp. She stood in the doorway and said coolly, "Don't announce his guilt before he even gets a chance to defend himself."

Mary turned to Elena. "Major Elena? His crime stands — that doesn't change even if someone defends him," she said, a faint glint in her eyes.

Elena only smiled and stepped aside.

Then a third person entered — a man whose presence sucked the room of heat. Mary stopped short; she had expected him, but fear flickered across her face anyway.

"General Sergei," she said, voice thin.

Sergei looked at Mary with a hard, tired expression. "Major Clark, you filed an absence report yesterday. You are not to leave your post without permission. You went to a club when you should have been on duty?"

Mary scrambled for an explanation. Sergei's voice was cold. "And now you accuse a student from Etherlight Academy — a visiting student — without proper investigation?"

At the name 'Etherlight Academy' Mary gulped. Sergei stepped closer and let his aura press just enough to remind her of the chain of command. Mary bowed her head instantly.

Sergei's voice hardened. "You dare accuse the Disciple of the Sword Emperor without evidence?" Hearing it spoken aloud, Mary felt the bravado and her plan collapse. Her scheme to force Ezra into submission in order to 'save' him evaporated into shame.

Sergei pointed at Mary. "Return to your quarters and do not leave them until I call you. Your punishment will be severe."

Mary rose shakily and walked out. As she passed Ezra, Elena stepped forward and quietly undid one of his handcuffs, loosening the mana suppression chain enough for him to move his fingers.

Ezra's eyes flicked to hers. When she was close enough he leaned in, his voice all flat ice. "Do that again and I'll kill you. Know your place."

Elena's smile did not falter, but there was a hard edge to it.

Outside the interrogation room, Mary cursed under her breath, as if to herself. Inside, the bulb hummed and the one-way glass hid a thousand silent witnesses.

_________________--

Author's Note:

I know, guys—this chapter might not feel very satisfying since the plot isn't moving much. But trust me, from the next chapter things will pick up for real! Also, just to clear it up: Mary Clark works under Colonel Mustafa.

And hey… if you're enjoying the story, please support me with gifts. I'm honestly broke and every bit of support helps me keep writing for you all.