Rael materialized in Kahinor, the teleportation node's light fading as the bustling city came into view. If Vash'kar looked like a city, then Kahinor was a literal metropolis. The stone-paved streets sprawled endlessly, lined with t structures of brid carved stone. Everywhere he looked, markets thrived, soldiers patrolled, and adventurers moved with purpose. The city buzzed with life, a stant hum beh the chatter and g of daily erce.

  He moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his low-level gear and unassuming username keeping him beh notice. The grand marketpce y ahead, a maze of colorful stalls brimming with everything from ented trio freshly roasted meats. The air carried the sts of spices, baked bread, and the tang of alchemical potions.

  Sabrina stood near a potion stall, her silver-haired avatar easy to spot even among the sea of pyers. She examined a rack of vials, her expression half-focused, half-distracted.

  "Wow, look who decided to show up," she said, catg sight of him. Her tone was light, but genuine surprise colored her voice. "Haven't seen you online in forever."

  Rael offered a casual shrug. "Nothing much. Just took a break. Figured I'd hop ba, see what's new."

  Sabrina smiled, slipping a few s to the vendor before pocketing an inse potion. "Well, you picked a hell of a time. The whole game's a mess right now."

  "Yeah, I noticed." He pyed with the edge of his worn cloak, his expression mild. "What's up with all the thefts?"

  She sighed, tug a stray strand of silver hair behind her ear. "You and everyone else are asking the same thing. I even asked my brother, he usually knows everything before it hits the forums, but even he's got no clue. Whoever's doing this left no traot in-game or in real life."

  Rael's expression remained unged, but his mind sharpened with i. "That's pretty intense. You'd think someone would have noticed something."

  "Right? But it's like they just disappeared. No one saw anything, no one heard anything. It's starting to feel like one of those ghost stories." She huffed, more frustrated than afraid.

  He hummed thoughtfully. The sheer scale of the operation—coordinatis in four cities—meant this was no small-time affair. To pull off something like this, the thieves either had a literal gold mi their disposal or had poured an obse amount of real-world money into the game to vert it into gold. Both options suggested deep pockets and a pn far more plex than simple robbery.

  "Anyway," Sabrina's voice pulled him back, "you pnning to stick around this time?"

  Rael offered a half-smile. "Maybe. But I've got something else I o dht now. Rain che the quests?"

  She didn't hide her disappoi but nodded. "Yeah, sure. Just message me when you're free."

  "Will do." He turned away, slipping bato the flow of the market crowd. His mind was already w through his move.

  If pyers weren't talking, then maybe the NPCs would. The cult's act ba Vash'kar had involved NPCs as well—the figure he'd seen on the roof had been unmistakably ohe system tags between NPd pyers were different, and anyone paying attention would have noticed. If these thieves had maniputed NPce, they could have do elsewhere too.

  Rael moved swiftly to the portal, fingers already seleg his destination. Hildrebrand, one of the cities where a Golden Token had been stolen. If there were clues to be found, he would find them there.

  "It's been a while since I've gone adventuring."

  * * *

  Ohin, lumpy mattress, Herman y staring at the ceiling, humming a low, tuneless melody. His fiapped rhythmically against his chest, the only motion iherwise still cell. Outside, the sound of rain drifted through the narrow window, a quiet patter u by the occasional crackle of distant thunder.

  "Shut up, or I'll make yret it."

  The voice came from the bunk opposite, a low growl barely louder than the rain. Herman flinched, his melody dying in his throat. He pulled his ko his chest, sighing softly.

  The cell was small, barely enough room for the two of them. Rust-staione walls closed in, damp and cold. Iron bars divided them from the hallway, where a siorch sputtered in its sce. The dim fme cast long, twitg shadows across the cracked stone floor. The window, little more than a slit in the wall, let in a thin stream of cool drizzle whehe wind blew just right. Droplets glittered ooh, mingling with the grime.

  Lightning fshed, casting the world in stark white for a split sed. The rain hissed, a backdrop to the muffled silence of the prison.

  Shouts shrough the silence. Herman's head jerked up. He slid from his cot, bare feet toug the cold floor, and shuffled to the bars. His cellmate remaiill, eyes closed, but his breathing had sharpened.

  Beyond the bars, the hallway y empty. The guard who usually slouched against the wall, half-asleep, was gone. Instead, the air hung thick with something unnameable, a tension that crawled beh the skin.

  The shouts grew, a brief swell of chaos, then suddenly cut off. Silence swallowed the sound, leaving only the rain's soft, relentless patter.

  "Where'd the guard go?" Herman muttered, fingers curling around the etal of the bars. His knuckles whitened.

  His cellmate moved. In a single swift motion, he seized Herman's colr, yanking him down. Herman yelped as his knees hit the stone, pain fring up his legs.

  "Idiot," the cellmate hissed, peering through the bars. His bulk filled the space, a dark silhouette against the dim corridor. "Something's wrong."

  Herman pushed himself up, biting back a retort. He rubbed his ag knees, casting a wary g the hallway.

  Then, footsteps.

  Light, unhurried. They echoed softly against the stone, a metronome against the rain. The cellmate stilled, his eyes narrowing. Herman shrank back, pressing himself into the er of the cell.

  A figure appeared at the edge of the torchlight. Cloaked, the dark fabric g to a frame that moved with an uling grace. The cloak was frayed at the edges, beads of water trailing from the hem. In the dim light, dark, wet stains marred the fabric—blood, though her prisoner dared to .

  The figure stopped in front of their cell, the hood tilting up just enough for the shadows to shift. Herman held his breath, his pulse a drum in his ears.

  "Hey, hey!" The cellmate's voice turned sharp, eager. "Get us out of here. e o's go. I've got tacts, money. Whatever you need."

  The figure said nothing. A gloved hand reached through the bars, fingers quick as a shey caught the cellmate by the back of his neck, pulling him forward until his face pressed against the iron. The metal cut into his skin, smearing his cheek against the rusted surface.

  "No, no, wait—"

  A bde slid through his neck.

  There was no scream, only a wet gurgle as blood spilled over the dagger and onto the stohe body slumped, held up only by the iron bars and the figure's unyielding grip.

  Herman scrambled back, pressing himself ft against the wall. His breath came in sharp, shallow bursts, eyes wide as the figure turo him.

  The figure reached into his cloak, produg a ring of keys that ked softly in the quiet. With a practiced motion, he unlocked the cell's small, rusted door, pushing it open. The hinges groahe sound swallowed by the rain and the dripping blood.

  Herman pressed himself tighter against the wall, every muscle rigid with terror. His cellmate's body slumped against the bars, lifeless eyes staring bnkly into nothing.

  The figure stepped inside, each footfall delicate yet deliberate. His cloak dragged over the stone, leaving faint trails of wetness and crimson.

  A haended, pale and gloved. Herman flinched, shutting his eyes tight. His mind raced, prayers, regrets, aangling into a wordless mess.

  When he opened his eyes, the hand still hovered there—open, waiting. His gaze drifted up, and he caught a glimpse of the face beh the hood.

  A mask.

  The mask depicted a demon's visage, its features twisted into a mournful expression. Hollow eyes, snted and shadowed, sat above lips curled into a perpetual ment. It was the face of grief itself, the kind that li the edges of nightmares.

  A sob crawled up Herman's throat, but he swallowed it dowhought of all the stories of monsters and dark things that lurked in the ers of the world. Maybe the god of death had e for him.

  The figure's fingers curled, catg Herman's colr. He ulled up with ease, his legs barely finding footing. He braced himself for the bde, for pain, for the cold embrace of death.

  "Are you Herman?"

  The voice was soft, a gentle murmur against the rain.

  Herman's lips trembled. "Y-Yes."

  The grip released him. He staggered back, knees weak, his back hitting the stone wall. His breath shuddered as the figure straightehe por mask tilting downward as if sidering him anew.

  "Follow me."

  The figure turhe cloak swirling around him, and stepped bato the hallway.

  Hermaated, his mind struggling to catch up. His cellmate's corpse hung against the bars, blood pooling at his feet. There was no time to think, no time to decide—his legs moved on their own, dragging him in the figure's wake.

  He stepped into the corridor, and the world tilted.

  Bodies y sprawled across the stone. Guards, prisoners—faces twisted in agony, throats slit, eyes vat. Blood smeared the walls, dark trails where bodies had been dragged. The torchlight danced over the age, casting shadows that seemed to twitd writhe.

  Herman's stomach ched, ed. His hands shook as he clutched his own sleeves, nails biting into his skin.

  Ahead, the figure moved with an unbroken rhythm, light-footed among the dead. The rain whispered through the window slits, a geter over the chaos.

  Herman's mind spun with questions and fear. He stared at the figure's back, at the dark, wet cloak and the mask that had no pce among the living.

  Had death truly e to collect him? Was this a punishment, or a mercy?