Namkhai lay in his cell after Andok’s report about the two failed missions. He replayed the words about the upcoming reprimand in his head if the third assignment also ended in failure. But what troubled him most were the words of the two government officials who had informed him of the death of his horned cellmate in solitary confinement - the same one he had met on his first day in prison.

  The monk could not imagine that after their brief conversations the man might have taken his own life. And yet what disturbed him even more was something else: why was he still thinking about him at all? They had not even been friends. He had seen him only once. Perhaps it was the injustice the man had suffered. Perhaps his pointless struggle. Perhaps the terrible wounds from the torture he had endured. Or perhaps all of it at once.

  “Nonsense,” he whispered.

  But it was not nonsense. It was a sense of duty, a desire to understand. He turned onto his side and stared at the wall.

  He analyzed his recent actions and concluded that he had made many contradictory decisions since arriving in the city. Namkhai remembered Agban and the monastery, how his days had passed there. Training with his grandfather, studying, cleaning, talking with friends. Something stabbed faintly at his heart; he missed those days a little. And along with that came the memory of his original goal.

  To gain fame, recognition, and money.

  Instead, he lay in a cell, thinking about the death of a nearly unknown prisoner. Realizing how absurd it sounded, Namkhai made up his mind to find and beat the bastard responsible for that man’s suffering, the one who had pinned the crime on him. He made himself a promise.

  ____

  Delilah sat at the desk in her cell. The room was decorated in bright colors, filled with various devices and a large soft bed. She was drawing in her notebook. It was her group the one she belonged to. She had sketched nearly all of them, including her boss, Samson. In her eyes, it was clear she missed them and wanted to return.

  But under the current circumstances, she could do nothing. If the third mission failed, her group could be in danger. She herself could be used as bait, though the government did not know how much the group valued its own members. As long as Dalila remained useful, they were not actively hunted.

  She remembered their raids together, how they cut, burned, and beat small-time criminals while fulfilling their clients’ contracts.

  Delilah made herself a promise: once she was freed, she would return to her group no matter what and do everything possible to keep them out of danger.

  ____

  Number 1991 lay on the floor of his cell. His white hair was disheveled, and trash and belongings were scattered across the room. A television hung from the ceiling at full volume. A children’s superhero program was playing: one of the heroes was beating up robbers, capturing them, while ordinary people admired and loved him.

  “Hm… so if you just get rid of criminals, people will respect you? What nonsense. To be loved, you have to inspire fear. You have to show your strength, and only then will they respect you. What a stupid show.”

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  He made himself a promise to wipe all the strongest beings from the face of the world and become the strongest of all. And then, after that, everyone would respect him and love him for who he was.

  ____

  Phobos cleaned and sharpened his katana - precisely, without a single unnecessary sound or movement. There was focus in his eyes, and only one thought in his mind: the promise he had made to his partner, and the target now endangered by a chain of events and failures.

  For years, he had been planning to eliminate his boss, the head of a hidden assassin clan, one of the most influential criminal organizations, his own father. Everything had been meant to happen immediately after the last successful contract.

  But because of a series of circumstances, everything had gone differently: Namkhai’s appearance and his interference in eliminating the target, Delilah’s group intercepting the target right before his eyes, and Andok deciding to strike a contract with him.

  Now the plan was at risk, and only God knew when he would be able to return to it. He did not even know what his partner was doing, whether she would stay with him or choose to act alone. Under constant surveillance, he could not contact her or anyone else from the clan.

  So all four of them had serious concerns, and none of them would allow another mission to fail, because that could destroy all their plans and goals.

  Meanwhile, Andok and his subordinates were at the base, busy with their work. Staff processed requests, verified data. Andok himself was searching through his records and computer. One of his subordinates approached him.

  “Sir, have you heard about the outsider who attacked people in one of the mines? He killed them. They’re talking about him everywhere now—a four armed mad giant. What do you think of him?”

  Without looking up from his work, Andok replied, “Of course I’ve heard. That individual doesn’t interest me at all. An ordinary worker. The police and soldiers will find him within days. Enough about trash. The squad has finally been assigned a new mission… in the Wanderers’ Village.”

  The staff stopped working and exchanged glances.

  “Sir, has the leadership really decided to intervene there? Won’t that cause even more unrest and protests among the outsiders?”

  “The higher ups decided it’s time to stop playing with them and granting concessions. The expansion of that village must be stopped. Serious measures are being prepared. So get those four ready. Tomorrow they’ll have a serious assignment.”

  “Understood.”

  ____

  Back at Reverentia, in the hall where the meeting had taken place, Neina and the others were still seated, waiting for Garrat and the president, who had left some time ago.

  “How much longer do you think we’ll have to wait?” asked a creature resembling both a dolphin and a human.

  “That four armed one looks like a complete weakling. How did the president even come up with the idea of choosing him as the face of an entire revolution? He inspires no confidence at all,” said a tall goblin woman.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions yet. First we should see whether Garrat even agrees,” Neina said, then looked at the shaman sitting opposite her. “What do you think, Oyun? You’re supposed to be his right hand. How does Garrat seem to you?”

  The shaman did not even look at Neina and gave no answer.

  “How polite… Only half your mouth is stitched shut, so you can still answer. Actually, why is it stitched up anyway?”

  “Don’t ask others about things like that. It’s not polite, Neina,” Gauda told her. “There must be a reason.”

  “Hm… fine.”

  Suddenly the doors opened again, and only the president entered the hall. His face was stern as he returned to his seat. Everyone at the table turned to him.

  “Well? He didn’t agree after all?” someone asked.

  The president lifted his head and smiled.

  “No. He agreed. I managed to persuade him.”

  “Seriously? What did you tell him? And where is he now?”

  “Nothing special. I simply showed him the truth, and afterward he agreed. He gave me his word that he would help us. He’s resting in his quarters now.”

  “Excellent! Then we proceed with the plan?”

  “Yes. From now on, we follow the plan exactly,” the president said. He met the shaman’s gaze. Oyun understood that things were not so simple. The president added, “Oyun, I have a feeling you’re going to have a very interesting time with Garrat. He surprised me.”

  Oyun stared at him for a few seconds, then smirked.