Revan carried the fragile Jack on his shoulders—who had his right foot destroyed—even if he disliked it. He did not want to become a dog to the rich, but if he got himself injured while helping him, then he could not even consider leaving the crimson haired fool to rot. He even offered to let him into the inner city, so he had to be nice, right?

He had told him that his left arm would not move for a while, so he had to wonder what would cause such a thing. He still refused to take ghouls as an answer. Why would there be ghouls here? Nonetheless, there was a talking spirit giving him superpowers within his head, so he had no choice but to believe him.

It was getting late. Luckily, they were out of skull territory; their destination took them to a dark servant controlled area which they needed to pass through to get to the gates. The dark servants were dangerous enough to force even the isolationists marked to come and get rid of their previous leader. Ever since then, they have been quiet, leaving their territories as the most populated and richest of the markless.

He wished he could live here, but he suspected there was more to it so he never committed to it. It would not be an easy life, but it would just be a less harsh one than the one he had right now.

“We’re here,” Jack informed him.

Revan saw the gateway to the inner city. The entrance was guarded by a good number of marked guards armed with firearms. One of them looked different than the others, wearing a red band on his arm with a symbol he couldn’t read, but someone with a lot of education probably could.

“What does the symbol on the red band say?” he asked his ally. Jack turned to the direction where he pointed to. But instead of an answer, Revan got nothing but a stunned grunt from the disabled boy.

“What?! Why is there a scarlet bearer out here?”

Jack immediately turned his attention to the soldier with a red band. It must’ve meant something very important, but Revan still could not understand. Reading is a trait orphans like him don’t get to enjoy.

They made their way forward to the gates and, as expected, they were stopped by the guards who paid no heed to their own kind’s wounds. Cruel as they always were. From his surroundings, Revan observed that there were fifteen people armed with guns watching him in particular.

“Scar! Why are you assigned to a pitiable job such as guarding the left gateway? Isn’t this a waste of your time?” Jack rudely asked.

“Young Ashward? Judging by your injuries, you’re probably the reason for why I was called here.”

“About that, can you umm… let my new friend pass.”

The scarlet bearer seemed sickened. He probably could not stand by the idea of letting a markless in their rotten city. Many others seem to share this face with him—some even hid their faces while making such a face. As expected from the marked.

If only I didn’t need the marked to hide, I would be kicking all of their asses right now, Revan thought to himself.

“I don’t do those, but a request is a request. Don’t tell anyone I allowed it though. The gossip might even reach the superiors.”

“The money is yours, although I don’t have any on me right now.”

“That’s fine, just show us your mark to confirm that you’re actually young Ashwood.”

Jack presented his mark—a weird white symbol on his left shoulder—to the guards. Revan waited patiently, until they finally decided the mark was real. They were given the right to pass, but he had to change into white clothing for him to continue in. So they took them both into their custody.

That man...

The Guardian in his head muttered something, but he did not care to listen. There were more important things to focus on. He was given a pair of pants and a white shirt and was directed to a restroom within the walls; Jack was taken to an infirmary, or so they say.

Revan came out of the gate walls, fully dressed in white and out in the inner city. He had finally made it in, even if it was a little earlier than he had expected. He could still feel their gazes on him, waiting just for the right moment for when he gives them a reason to detain him. Of course, he was stronger than them all now, but now was not the time to prove that.

“Yo, they fixed my arm and leg pretty easily.”

The rich fool came out of the walls without any sign of the injuries he suffered, walking towards his new servant without a care in the world.

“We’re gonna have someone following us for the rest of the day to make sure we do the thing. I say we head to my home first and then get you a hoax mark.”

“Fun. I get to play the role of the privileged.”

“Would it hurt to say thank you?”

“This is only temporary. Once we beat the gangs, I’ll be taking over the inner city next,” he boldly announced.

“That’s… a goal, alright.”

Three corpses lay near the elegant man wearing a red cloak and a black pair of pants were still visible. He walked through the blood filled floor—his bare feet soaked in the crimson liquid—to reach one of the bodies. This one had its face busted open, brutishly.

The assistant of the very stoic man could not hold back his discomfort at the scene. As someone who appreciates life, Halis would rather such things never happen, even if it was for a greater cause such as theirs. His associate however seemed to love the atmosphere of this room as he gazed upon the corpses deeply.

The strangely dressed boss of his stuck his hand inside the corpse’s brain, probably to study the memories of what happened. He usually wants to abstain himself from committing such an act, but did they really have an alternative? This was an assignment only they could complete.

“This one got taken out quickly, I’m gonna need to check a different one.”

Words that Halis didn’t want to hear. Of course, things are never easy and good things sometimes require sacrifices. Staining your hands with atrocities had to be committed for the sake of others; or that, at the very least, that’s all their lives have been ever since they became a part of the scarlet sector.

“They’re gonna die either way, might as well help them out.”

“Then seek the one that led them. Leaders usually tend to let their inferiors handle such matters. This one was clearly no different, seeing as his body is the least damaged out of all.”

“Fair enough.”

Halis forgot to inform Gin to restrain himself, resulting in the death of the one most likely to survive. All he required to trigger his ability was the touch of one’s brain. He never got how it functioned, but with all things dealing with the Guardians, it’s preferable on no occasion to ever question how it operates. Unless one would sooner lose their sanity.

“This one has the knowledge we need. With this, our mission is complete.”

“Who did it?”

“Some child bearing the name Revan. Seems like he came here to rescue his friends. But he has Guardian powers, so it would be a pain to try and fight him.”

“A waste of time.”

“Hey, you there! You wouldn’t happen to be a Vessel of the bloods?” a stranger in a skull mask questioned.

“Yeah, what do you want?” Gin asked. His deep voice intimidated the skull, but he assembled the resolve to ask something so outrageous.

“Would you like to join forces with my leader in taking over the inner cities.”

Even Gin was shocked when he heard of such an act. Who in their right mind would attempt to organise such a ludicrous ambition? Nonetheless, Halis had to meet him. The insanity of it all made him curious on what kind of man this “leader” is.

“Boss, I’m kind of interested,” he whispered in Gin’s ears.

“What interests you so much?”

“His leader.”

“Fair enough. Let’s go meet your leader.”

Straight to the point as usual. Nonetheless, this was a peculiar decision for someone such as him. Gin despises meaningless formalities, so a fancy meeting may not be the finest conclusion for him. Perhaps he too is intrigued by the ambitious idea of this skull leader. The subordinate escorted them to his boss as requested.

As they made their way to their destination, Halis noticed skulls, bloods, darks and blades cooperating to fortify the area. He was dumbfounded by such an act. Why would any of those people tolerate the presence of their enemies? Was their desire to overthrow the inner city that strong?

A small group of people passed by them, carrying materials that Halis suspected were intended to be used to construct an incomplete gateway. The men in question were not worth remembering to him, but one of them held more weight than what was humanly possible when looking at his build—slender with no signs of muscles to be seen.

From what he could notice, this man was a blade, judging by the symbol on his armband. Halis tried to recall any matching his descriptions, but none seem to match the details. Odd.

“Don’t lag behind.”

“I was just observing some of our ‘associates,’ you know how it goes, right, Gin?”

He glanced onwards, as he ignored Halis’ usual troublesome practices. Knowing him, He probably also detected the obvious Blade Vessel, but not in the same way he did. Gin always recognized whether a corpse belonged to one or not, so it was right to assume they all had ways of determining who was who.

Halis also knew a few more things about them such as they have unnatural durability, strength and speed; they can not be wounded by normal means unless the force is strong enough and their brain processes information faster than normal humans giving them an insane advantage over everyone else.

I’d like to call it bullshit, but the boss saved me too many times for me to complain about it.

He laughed it off as a joke.

Black is a detestable colour. All Albalos know this. It’s an insult to everything they stand for, even the poor and mistreated would not dare and wear it. There are exceptions to this, such as hair and things that cannot be dyed white. But on clothing, it could lead to the wearer’s immediate arrest or assault from the unhinged ones.

“I have no clue who you think you are, but you’re definitely a piece of work. Do you want to die?”

Halis asked the man currently in front of him. He dressed exactly the same as the veteran general of the inner city, a slick uniform with a short cape hanging on his shoulder. The only difference was that he was wearing black; his short curly hair matched with the colour of his outfit. He stood in front of many of them in an empty, dark room in such treasonous clothes.

Many people stared at him with concern. From the skulls of his own side to the darks that used to represent the colour. Quite a few of them took their leave at the sight of such a thing.

“I haven’t seen black ages since the days of a certain dark leader. Do you plan to pull something on the size of that scale?” Gin asked the reckless man.

“Even bigger. We wouldn’t be able to beat them otherwise.”

“You’re interesting, but I need more. Do you have a plan?”

“Yes, right here.”

He searched through his pockets to retrieve some sort of crystal. It looked clear and soulless. Not that it mattered. What interested Halis was what lay in the center of it—a tiny black ball that he could barely discern. What could such a small thing do that’s worth a meeting of such a scale?

“This is a crystal made up of energy that inhabits this world. My Guardian called it a seer crystal and it’s the weapon we need to win the war,” he announced boldly.