Zen sat there, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling like it had all the answers. The mysterious guy in black had dropped his truth bomb and vanished, leaving Zen to stew in his own confusion.
What was this power inside him? Why did that damn voice disappear? He had told Crime about it, hoping for some wise, all-knowing guidance. Instead, Crime had stared at him like he was an idiot.
"Are you sure you're good in the head?" Crime asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Zen scoffed. "Oh, of course I am. Not like I've been kidnapped, slapped, and dragged into a rebellion to kill God or anything." He threw up his hands. "Seriously, 'Let's go kill God!' Who even says that?" He made a ridiculous face, mimicking Crime's voice.
Crime, unfazed, leaned back on his chair, propping his feet on the table like he had all the time in the world. "You'll understand soon enough," he said, voice carrying a rare hint of seriousness.
Zen squinted at him. "Yeah? And when exactly is that?"
Crime smirked. "Oh, you'll know."
This was how most of their days went—sitting around in the hideout, doing a whole lot of nothing.
Zen sighed, kicking a stray pebble as he walked through the narrow streets of the outskirts. This is so boring. For someone who had apparently been dragged into a grand rebellion, things sure were moving at the speed of a dying snail.
Ingara was a massive highland, shaped like a giant ring. At the very edge was the entrance—nothing but a long, grueling staircase carved into the rock. That led to the outskirts, the lowest level of Ingara. To reach the next highland, travelers had to make their way to the opposite side and ascend yet another brutal climb.
The Highlands themselves were massive. Not just tall, but towering. Think stacked stones, but on a scale so ridiculous that the top was barely visible, forever shrouded in mist. Each highland had its own settlements, some thriving, others abandoned, and the higher one went, the more dangerous things got. The topmost regions were spoken of in hushed whispers—untamed lands where strange beings roamed, where the air itself felt heavier, and where only the strongest dared to move.
Zen wasn't sure how far up Crime intended to drag him, but one thing was certain—his legs were going to hate him for it.
Zen groaned. Just when he thought he could enjoy another uneventful day of doing absolutely nothing, Crime had to ruin it.
He stepped into the hideout, half-hoping for the same mundane routine, but something felt... off. Crime was nowhere to be seen. That alone was weird. That man barely moved unless it was absolutely necessary.
Zen wandered into the living room, only to be met with the sight of Muki, happily munching away at her food. Except—wait. Had she grown again?
The once-small creature was now nearly as long as Zen himself. Her wing-like ears, which had started as soft flaps, were becoming more defined, their structure hinting at something far more… unnatural. A knot tightened in his chest. If she kept growing like this, someone would notice. And considering what had happened to her family—something even he had conveniently shoved to the back of his mind—that was a problem.
But as soon as she ran up to him, flapping those strange, furry wings and pressing herself against him, all his worries melted away. No matter how miserable his life was, Muki had a way of making him forget.
"Oye, Zen!" Crime's voice came from upstairs, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"What?" he called back, already annoyed.
"Pack up, we're moving."
Zen blinked. "Huh?" Moving? Since when? Where? Why?
Crime appeared at the top of the stairs, smirking. "It's our first raid," he said casually, as if he had just announced a grocery run.
"Master wants us at the Black Market, across from the entrance. A few carts from the Highlands are coming through, and we're going to… borrow some things."
Zen stared at him. "Borrow?"
"With force," Crime clarified.
Oh. So they were stealing. Great. Just great.
Zen sighed and rubbed his temples. "Yep. Definitely a rebellion now."
Zen held up the map, squinting at the mess of scribbles and jagged lines. It looked like a drunk toddler had tried to sketch a maze.
"Great drawing, Crime," he said, dripping with sarcasm.
"Thanks, boy!" Crime grinned, entirely missing the insult. His excitement for the raid was borderline disturbing. He saluted Zen—fist to chest, then forehead, repeating the motion.
Zen copied him without thinking. Might as well get used to whatever cult rituals these guys have.
"I'll go ahead. Make sure you catch up in two days," Crime said, his voice already growing distant. And just like that, he vanished.
Zen stared at the empty space where Crime had been.
"Two days? How far am I supposed to go?!"
Muki meowed—or whatever weird noise she made these days—completely unbothered.
Zen sighed. No point in complaining. He adjusted his bag, patted Muki's head, and started walking. Hopefully, this trip would be smooth—no voices in his head, no assassins trying to kill him, no existential crises.
Of course, fate had other plans.
The further he walked, the hotter it got. The air was thick with heat, like he had stepped into an oven. Fires blazed all around him, their glow reflecting off rows of sweating, muscle-bound workers hammering away at metal. The sharp clang of metal against metal rang through the streets.
Zen wiped the sweat off his forehead. How many tools are these people making? The sheer scale of the operation was overwhelming. Weapons, armor, giant mechanical parts he couldn't even begin to name—this place wasn't just a market. It was a war machine.
This is a different world, Zen thought, watching a blacksmith lift a blade longer than his entire body. And I'm walking right into it.
First raid huh? I actually am excited for this, a little bit of change from my mundane life.
Zen looked at Muki, I swear I will protect you at any cost Muki.