“Leave now? Are you out of your mind—?”

  X’s words died in her throat.

  She staggered back, eyes quivering as her gaze flicked between Adam and the crushed beetle at his feet.

  “W-what are you trying to do?”

  She turned to flee.

  “You’d better stay still if you want to live.”

  Adam’s voice was cold.

  X froze mid-step. Her arms trembled, lips quivering as though she were staring down a predator that had already chosen her fate.

  Adam paid no heed to her fear. He seized her wrist. Through his heightened vision, he saw it clearly—crimson mist, identical to the aura emitted by the slain Xyrath, seeping out from her body.

  Was she infected too?

  His frown deepened. No. That shouldn’t be possible.

  X struggled, trying to wrench herself free, but Adam didn’t relent. He watched as the crimson trail reversed course, flowing into him instead—Devour consuming every last fragment until nothing remained.

  She was unknowingly marked, he realized. By the rapist… back then.

  A second trail caught his attention. Adam’s grip loosened instinctively.

  X stumbled back, retreating in panic, but Adam’s gaze remained fixed on the distance.

  Is that…?

  Far beyond the clouds—hundreds of meters away—a second flying ship hovered faintly into view. Yet it wasn’t the vessel that seized his focus.

  Five figures wearing animal masks soared through the air, cutting straight toward their ship.

  “Fuck.”

  Adam exploded into motion. He grabbed X around the waist.

  “Wait—please! I’ll double whatever they paid you to—”

  “Shut up,” Adam snapped. “We’re being chased.”

  “What? By whom?” X gasped. “Wait—why are you running toward the edge?”

  Adam didn’t slow.

  “Are you insane?” she screamed. “We’ll die if we fall from this height!”

  He reached the balcony in a blink. Without hesitation, Adam hurled himself—and X—over the edge.

  Her scream tore through the night.

  System. Bring out Nokum and Salma.

  The summons manifested in silence.

  “Demons!” X shrieked. “There are demons—!”

  “Salma,” Adam commanded mentally, “protect her. Do not let her die.”

  He threw X toward the Familiar. Nokum seized Adam, shielding him with massive hands as they plummeted.

  The ship above shrank rapidly, vanishing into the darkness.

  Then came laughter—an eerie blend of an owl’s hoot and a human cry.

  Aboard the flying ship, Pavani and his companions landed beside the crushed beetle.

  Lankesh, clad in a tiger’s skull, dropped to his knees, sobbing.

  Pavani laughed softly. “Oyioooo… escaped. They killed Majkar and escaped.”

  “They jumped,” Lankesh whimpered, peering over the edge. “We must chase.”

  “…can you still see them?”

  “They’re falling,” Lankesh said. “One male. One female.”

  “They will die,” Pavani said calmly. “Let’s go.”

  They prepared to leap, only to find their path blocked by five men in tailored suits and crimson-white masks. Glowing swords hummed in their hands, masks shimmering with a blood-red sheen.

  “Gentlemen,” one of them said pleasantly, “haven’t you heard? Hijacking a conductor’s vessel is considered… rude.”

  Pavani’s cackle wavered. “Oyioooo… another conductor?” He bowed slightly. “Stronger than the last. Unfortunately, we cannot play. We must kill Scavs.”

  With a flick of his hand, the masked group blurred past them.

  They leapt without hesitation.

  The conductor rushed to the edge, scanning the abyss below.

  “Sir,” Korg reported, “I can’t find the guests.”

  “Did you check everywhere?”

  “Yes. No signs of struggle either. Either they were taken—or they were part of the group. If so… we aided their escape.”

  The conductor stared into the darkness.

  “Are we giving chase?” Christopher asked.

  “Absolutely,” the conductor replied, eyes flashing. “Harald will manage in our absence. If all goes as planned, we regroup at Wrathriver Necropolis in one to two weeks.”

  He paused. “Do you have your Hert rocks?”

  They nodded, producing glistening purple crystals.

  Without hesitation, they swallowed them. Violet light engulfed their bodies.

  “Let’s move,” the conductor growled. “Remember—only the Demonkin matters.”

  He stepped off the edge. The others followed.

  Ten minutes later, space warped near the balcony.

  Cataclysm—Adam’s familiar axe—burst into view, twin drag-lines embedded deep into the hull. Two figures dangled beneath the ship.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Adam clung to the handles. X wrapped herself around him, eyes squeezed shut.

  “I’m climbing up,” Adam groaned. “Hold tight.”

  Her grip tightened painfully.

  With a roar of effort, Adam hauled them up. They crashed onto the deck, chests heaving. X lay atop him, shaking. Sweat soaked them both.

  Our gamble paid off.

  A smile tugged at Adam’s lips.

  Then he felt hot tears against his neck.

  X sobbed quietly.

  “So,” Adam said lightly, “you mentioned paying me. I am not cheap…”

  She looked up at him.

  He grinned. “You’re really ugly when you cry.”

  She sniffed, lips twitching. “You’re an idiot.”

  Under the moon’s glow, their laughter echoed across the deck, the kind only survivors could share.

  Wrathriver Necropolis, two weeks later

  “This place is a mess,” X muttered, arms crossed as she surveyed the pristine port. “How are we supposed to get out of here?”

  “Stop complaining,” Adam replied flatly.

  She punched him.

  Adam sighed, studying the surroundings.

  The port was enormous—larger than Gido’s and Dratol’s combined—yet utterly devoid of life. Shops stood open, glass polished, marble floors immaculate.

  Too immaculate.

  This feels like the backrooms, he thought.

  He shook off the unease and turned to X. “We’re changing disguises again. We can’t be careless.”

  Their appearances had already been altered from when they first boarded the flying ship. X looked less striking now, but more mature—her beauty subdued rather than erased. Adam matched her perfectly.

  “I know I don’t need to remind you,” he said quietly, “but do everything within your power not to stand out.”

  X shot him a glare, then nodded without a word.

  Adam released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  They headed toward a nearby restroom. X branched left; Adam went right.

  Less than twenty minutes later, they regrouped—each wearing a new face. X relied on makeup and skin-tight masks; Adam reconfigured bone, muscle, and posture through Manipulator, reshaping himself with surgical precision.

  They settled into a food court overlooking the port. Through the wide glass windows, the flying ship loomed—the only vessel present in the entire Necropolis.

  They’re still waiting for the conductor, Adam mused.

  He couldn’t help wondering how the clash with the masked assailants had ended.

  Across from him, X lounged lazily, touching up her lipstick with a small mirror. Catching his stare, she raised her head—still glaring.

  He smiled. She rolled her eyes and returned to her makeup.

  Adam chuckled softly. Angry or not, we’re alive. That’s enough for now.

  He turned his attention back to the ship.

  Footsteps approached.

  Adam turned, his brows knitting together.

  The conductor emerged into view, flanked by Korg and another masked assistant. All three moved stiffly, clothes shredded, scorched, or stained with dried blood. Only their masks remained mostly intact.

  They’d suffered badly over the last two weeks.

  A soft kick tapped Adam’s shin.

  X leaned in, whispering, “What now? Should we leave?”

  Adam shook his head. “Act natural,” he murmured. “It’s normal to stare.”

  They’d changed their appearance completely. The conductor had no reason to suspect they’d remained aboard rather than leaping earlier. Indifference would be more suspicious than curiosity.

  The conductor suddenly lifted his head.

  For a heartbeat, his gaze met Adam’s.

  Adam looked away immediately, leaning closer to X as if deep in conversation—subtly angling his chin toward the battered trio.

  “Korg,” the conductor said quietly, “did you find anything?”

  The massive man winced, shaking his head. “Nothing, sir. He’s not affiliated with the Demonkin.”

  The conductor turned. “Christopher?”

  “Same,” Christopher replied, voice barely audible.

  The conductor halted. “We’ve investigated everyone who disembarked,” he muttered. “One of them must be connected to that Demonkin.”

  Silence followed.

  After several seconds, Korg spoke. “Sir… should we investigate the couple in the food court?”

  The conductor glanced toward the elderly pair whispering over a table. He shook his head. “Leave them. This isn’t a place where one interferes lightly with others.”

  Korg nodded.

  “Sir,” Christopher added, “should we return to the ship? We don’t know if those beasts followed us.”

  The conductor clenched his fist, then exhaled slowly. “We return. We’ve lost enough already.”

  They moved toward a particular terminal.

  As they walked, the conductor cast one last glance toward the food court, but only empty chairs greeted him.

  If only I weren’t injured…

  He shook his head and continued without pause.

  Adam watched them retreat from a concealed corner.

  That bastard is at least B-rank, he thought. And he still suffered that badly…

  Only now did the magnitude of their gamble truly sink in.

  If those masked monsters had caught us, we’d be dead.

  “So,” X whispered, voice subdued. “What now?”

  Adam turned to her. She understood now—the scale of how close they’d come to dying.

  “We wait,” he said. “Hopefully another ship arrives within a few days.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, then sighed and shook her head. Without a word, she took a seat.

  Adam lingered, eyes drifting back to the empty launch field. Once the ship departed, that was it—they’d be at the mercy of fate.

  His thoughts returned to the masked assailants.

  I hope they suffered setbacks too… and that they don’t have another way to track us.

  He joined X, sitting beside her in silence.

  Moments later, a deep horn echoed through the port.

  Adam snapped his gaze upward. The flying ship was rising, slowly lifting into the sky.

  X sighed.

  “Let’s change disguises again,” Adam said.

  She nodded.

  Minutes later, they returned—new clothes, new faces. Adam now wore the face of a handsome man in his late twenties. X appeared as an elegant woman of similar age.

  They reclaimed their seats, staring out at the now-empty port.

  Footsteps sounded behind them.

  Adam turned as a lanky man in brown attire passed, nodding politely.

  “Excuse me, sir,” X called.

  Adam frowned but didn’t interrupt.

  The man stopped, subtly appraising her. A smile bloomed.

  “Are you speaking to me, miss?”

  She nodded, approaching with effortless grace and practiced charm. She bowed, but he stopped her with a laugh.

  “Please—no need. One bows only to kings or gods,” he said warmly. “I’m Obane.”

  “I’m Anita,” X said, smiling brightly.

  “A beautiful name,” Obane replied. “Perfectly suited.”

  X laughed lightly. “Sir, you must hold a position of authority here, yes?”

  Obane chuckled, stroking his goatee. “Thirty years in this port,” he said proudly. “But don’t mistake me for old.”

  X clapped her hands softly. “I knew it. My eyes never lie.”

  Obane beamed.

  “Sir,” X continued, hesitantly, “you must know the flight patterns well?”

  “Everything worth knowing,” Obane said, chest puffed. “Perhaps over a drink—”

  “Do you know when a ship bound for Vohmir will arrive?” she interrupted, gently gripping his arm.

  Obane’s smile widened.

  “Is it… confidential?” she whispered.

  He swallowed, adjusting his tie. “You only just arrived, didn’t you?”

  She nodded eagerly.

  He glanced around, then leaned in. “You didn’t hear this from me.”

  X leaned closer.

  “The Knights of Bordon escorted a ship in last week,” he whispered. “Not dignitaries. Corpses.”

  X blinked. “Corpses? Why?”

  “Shh,” Obane warned. “No one knows. And if they do, they won’t tell.”

  X frowned, lost in thought.

  “Corpses are everywhere in Wrathriver,” Obane said quietly, “but I’ve never seen anything like what we witnessed that day…”

  He trailed off, brows knitting as if prying open a door best left shut.

  “Over three hundred mangled bodies,” he continued after a moment. “Children among them.” His voice faltered. “It was—”

  He stopped abruptly, shaking his head, as though trying to dislodge the memory.

  “A fair lady shouldn’t hear of something so abominable,” he said at last. “Long story short, it’s unlikely another vessel bound for Vohmir will pass through Wrathriver anytime soon. Not for a couple of months, at least.”

  X’s breath hitched, but she said nothing.

  Obane noticed. “You seem in a hurry to leave.”

  She nodded. “I can’t afford to be stuck in Wrathriver for months,” she said, her voice cracking, perilously close to tears. “Obane…” she added softly. “Is there truly nothing you can do?”

  He coughed, turning away slightly to hide his smile. “The Knights haven’t departed yet,” he murmured. “They’re finalizing burial rites as we speak. They should return within a day or two—and they wouldn’t mind escorting you to Vohmir.”

  He pointed toward another section of the port. “You can’t see them from here. But there are others waiting in the east wing as well. They intend to travel with the Knights.”

  “Oh…” X murmured, understanding dawning.

  Obane hesitated, then smiled. “So, Miss Anita… what are your plans for tonight? We may not have anything fancy here, but I know a place with a decent meal.”

  X smiled warmly. “I’m flattered,” she said gently, “but I’m married.”

  She gestured toward Adam. “That’s my husband. Thank you—for everything.”

  Before he could respond, she leaned in and gave him a light hug, then turned and walked away.

  “You know,” Adam said, smiling as X returned, “you’ve got all the essential traits of a professional scammer.”

  He’d caught fragments of the conversation and couldn’t help feeling a flicker of sympathy for the middle-aged man.

  X rolled her eyes as she sat down. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  “Good news first.”

  “There’s a chance we can continue on to Vohmir in two days.”

  Adam’s brows shot up. Fuck yes. He barely managed to suppress his reaction.

  “And the bad news?”

  X’s lips curved into a sardonic smile. “The vessel belongs to the Knights of Bordon.”

  “Fuck,” Adam muttered.

  She wasn’t finished. “If we miss it, there won’t be another one for three months.”

  “Fuck.”