The Truth newspaper, our free-press publication, is your guide to the truth about the world around you. It is the voice of the Fourth World Order, and it is the only source of information that you can trust.

The Truth exposes the lies and deceit of those who seek to harm us and our way of life. It exposes the corruption and greed that plagues our city, and it shows the true nature of those who seek to exploit and oppress us.

The Truth is also a call to action. It is a call to all citizens of Garbrandt to rise up and take control of their own destinies. It is a call to join the Fourth World Order and to become part of something greater than yourself.

Join us, and help us create a better world for all. Together, we can make Garbrandt a shining example of what a truly just and prosperous society can be.

Read The Truth, and learn the truth about the world around you.

~ A newspaper clipping from the religious cult, the Fourth World Order

Lucas screamed in agony, cradling his broken digit. He was a simple grunt affiliated with the Twilight Bandits. Designated to collect the protection fees from the merchants around Strofil South, he didn't stand out much from the thousands of members the gang had.

"Mercy-! Please!"

In his mind, he wondered why he was being pummeled by an enforcer. Not just any enforcer, but one of the most brutal ones that the organization had to offer. Oliver Wood looked coldly at the beaten thug, holding up the tattered remains of a robe. More specifically, the one Damien stole from Lucas earlier.

"Where is Chester?" Oliver asked again. A small, burning sensation spread from his belly as he recalled the child who humiliated him in public.

"I really don't know! He-he forced me to do it! He took my robe! I haven't seen him since!"

The enforcer was significantly shorter than Lucas, but it didn't mean a thing. The bald bandit trembled violently, refusing to meet the man's cold gaze. Oliver's voice remained even, which made him even more terrified. In the darkness and rain, the enforcer's figure looked more menacing than ever.

"You're not answering my question."

A grotesque noise occurred, a wet popping noise, followed by an unearthly scream. Lucas cradled his injured leg, knowing it was snapped clean in half. The enforcer's boot struck the wall beside the incapacitated man's head, making him flinch and cry out harder. Putting a hardened criminal into such a state was easy for Oliver.

"The bloodhounds don't fucking lie. You were with him," The shaggy-haired man's face quickly distorted and he grabbed Lucas by the scalp and smashed him into the wall. "FUCKING TELL ME! WHERE HE IS!"

He fell into the fetal position, covered in blood and barely conscious. Lucas moaned in pain, no longer able to form words. He couldn't feel resentment, only overwhelming fear and the threat of death.

The enforcer's robes widened to reveal a set of blades glinting underneath. Sensing his impending death, Lucas pathetically begged for his life. Even with a broken leg and finger, he crawled onto the dirt and buried his head before the enforcer.

Oliver withheld the urge to kill him. Not because he was merciful, but because he knew the hapless man's pain would be prolonged if he were to leave him there. Instead, he kicked the prone man in the gut and left him there oozing in his own blood. If he didn't receive help in time, he would surely perish. But Oliver didn't care.

The enforcer knew that if Lucas actually had information regarding the boy's whereabouts, he would've given it a long time ago. It was simply an excuse. A weak justification that allowed him to exert dominance over another. Oliver knew that even without it, he could have killed the man with little backlash from his superiors. They wouldn't care about another body on their list so long as it wasn't anybody important, and he knew it well.

But seeing the hopelessness in the man's face as he asked him a question he couldn't answer amused the enforcer greatly.

'Ha, even after all that I'm still fucking pissed. Useless fucker.'

Adrenaline pumped through his veins after committing the brutal act. It was akin to sexual pleasure, deriving joy from the pain he inflicted on others. After being beaten so callously by a small boy, he needed some sort of release and the bald Twilight Bandit was the perfect target.

"Kelzar, I'm done playing here. Let's keep going."

A hooded figure poked his head into the back alley where Oliver tortured the man. An inhuman face revealed itself. Slightly elongated like a dog's snout, with short, spiky hair that connected their sideburns to their beard. A demi-human with the blood of a hellhound in his veins. The bloodhound, Kelzar, crinkled his nose upon smelling the urine and blood from the back alley. Oliver's face had droplets of blood, although the man didn't seem perturbed by that fact whatsoever.

Turning his yellow eyes away from the half-dead thug on the floor, Kelzar spoke quietly. His voice was deep and gravelly. In his hand

"The trail runs cold 'ere. But from wot 'e said, the bloke ye be lookin' fer was close to the markets. We should go from there."

"Lead the way," Oliver said gruffly. He knew that the wolf-man's expertise laid in tracking and detection, so he didn't make too many demands. He hired him for a reason. So long as it lead to his target, Oliver was willing to do anything. He handed over the robe containing the target's scent to the Kelzar as they resumed their search.

'I wasn't on a schedule for turning Gello in, anyway. I'll deal with this shit before I go.'

"Aye, I think that guy pissed on ye, he did." Kelzar said, pointing his jagged thumb at the hem of the enforcer's pants, slightly wet with urine. Oliver's face darkened. "Figured I should let ye' know."

The two quietly roamed the alleys of Strofil South under the moonlit sky.

Damien looked at Bentham and immediately laid his sword down. The armored vampire's shoulders, which held so much tension after being pursued for the entire day, lowered slightly. HIs gaze, which had steeled itself in preparation for what he was going to do, softened immediately.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, obviously!" Bentham said in an incredulous tone. "Come on! We need to get to the house quickly. There's too many patr-"

"I can't," Damien interrupted him, shaking his head. "They're after me. Not you. I just needed to find one of you and let you know where I'm planning on going."

"Are you insane?! You think you can escape the Twilight Bandits that easily? Where are you even gonna go?"

"I'm heading west. To Magellan. I won't stop looking for my brother, but I'll lay low. I'm looking into some sort of rendezvous point for us in the neutral zone so we can keep in contact, but I haven't figured it out yet."

"Mister Rose, don't take this the wrong way," The brown-haired adolescent took a deep breath before continuing. "But do you have nuts and bolts for brains?! Those bandits won't stop! You pissed off Oliver Wood! Even if you're in the neutral zone, there's a chance of you getting whacked in your sleep! You need to come with us!"

Damien looked affronted by the insult, but in the end, he knew they were saying it out of concern. The Shadow Knight placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'm strong. Trust me. I don't want to put you guys at risk. I'm a wanted man. Just tell Chester this,"

The boy continued to tell his plans and thoughts to Bentham, from the length of time he was planning on staying at Magellan and ways to contact each other. He proposed an ingenious idea of using Maxwell as a messenger to travel between the gang territories, as he was a magical creature that was both agile and highly intelligent. Bentham still looked unconvinced and even tried to guilt-trip the vampire by using Sheila, the girl whom he spent the most time with amongst the orphans.

"But can't you at least see us one more time? Sheila misses you. We're worried for you."

Despite only knowing each other for a small amount of time, the bond they created was strong. Not only did the adventuring duo save them, but they also taught them skills and knowledge to aid them in their daily lives. Bentham was looked at as one of the main leaders of their group, but he did the same for Damien; his maturity and poise were well beyond his years, making him akin to an older brother despite them looking the same age.

Damien gave a long-suffering sigh. He pursed his lips and shook his head, knowing any further contact would only heighten the children's chances of being found as an accomplice.

"Just tell her to keep it up. I'll see her soon. This isn't a goodbye, after all."

The vampire didn't know when he'd be able to meet with them again. if they remained in Strofil South, there was no chance of him coming back without the illusionist's help. That was the only way he figured he could stay. But Chester was away, and it would be difficult to maintain the spell at all times while looking for his brother.

'I don't want to rely so heavily on him. He'll make me feel like I owe him, anyway.' Damien said sarcastically.

In his mind, the true reason he didn't ask was that Chester had already helped him so much. Through every step of their adventure, the illusionist had been instrumental in solving problems just as much as he was in causing them. Asking the man to be his personal spell-casting sidekick when he was already helping look for Braham was too much in Damien's eyes.

Not that he would admit such a thing. No, he knew very well the illusionist would use it as an excuse to twist his arm even further.

"I hope you understand. This isn't something you guys should have to deal with."

The vampire didn't want to involve them in his troubles. He knew it was his fault and it was up to him to deal with. And to a certain extent, the same applied to his curly-haired companion.

"We don't have to, Mister Rose! It's because we want to help you! Please, just come with us. I swear we're better off as a team!"

Damien shook his head again, his expression determined. "I appreciate your concern, Bentham, but I need to do this on my own. I can't put you and the others in danger. I'll be careful and I'll make sure to keep in touch. I promise."

Bentham looked at Damien with a mix of frustration and understanding. He knew the vampire was stubborn and had a strong sense of responsibility. But he also knew that Damien was a skilled warrior and had a good chance of succeeding on his own. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't force the older teen to follow.

"Fine," Bentham said with a sigh. "But you better stay in touch. We're going to lose it if we don't see Maxwell for more than two days."

"I won't," Damien said, giving Bentham a firm nod. "Thank you."

"Just be careful," Bentham said, before turning to leave. "I'll tell the others what's going on and make sure to keep an eye out for Maxwell. Good luck, Damien. I really hope you'll be alright."

Damien watched as Bentham walked away, feeling a mix of sadness and relief.

'If he kept going, I would've had to force Maxwell to sit on him while I ran off. But it's all over with. I can focus on getting out of here.'

He knew it was the right decision, but it was hard to leave his friends behind. He picked up his sword and slung it over his shoulder, before turning west and heading towards Magellan with a map in his hand. He had a long journey ahead of him, but he was determined to see things through. Beckoning his shadow servant by his side, Damien left the abandoned building and went out into the barren streets of Garbrandt.