Last time, Alya and Nolan were handed a so-called “Loss Task” by Deadsmoke—yep, because “certain death” apparently qualifies as an errand now.
The rain had finally stopped.

But in Velrian, silence never meant safety.

Alya stretched against a rusted wall, eyes scanning the flickering neon signs above.
“I swear,” she muttered, clutching her stomach, “I’m one day away from selling Mou for snacks.”

Mou, lounging on a crate, blinked—slow, savage, unimpressed.

Nolan tossed her a ration bar without looking.
“Try that, and he’ll trade you for a steak.”

She smirked, tearing it open. “Still a better trade.”

They leaned against the wall, side by side. Mou’s warmth pressed against their legs. For a brief second, everything stilled—no hunger, no fear. Just breath and heartbeat.

Ping.
Alya’s wrist screen lit up.

“Package confirmed. Core Zone.”

Nolan’s jaw clenched.
“You’re joking.”

“Nope. Real deal.”

“That’s a black zone. We walk in there, we don’t walk out.”

She stood. “Then we run out.”

Mou rose with them—silent, focused.

Flashback: Years Earlier

They had no blood ties.

No parents, no papers, no past.
Just two kids left to rot in Velrian’s gutter.
When Mou found them, they were barely alive.
When they found each other, they became a reason to live.
Mou is the only one who knows them better than themselves.
He take all wounds and pain to protect these two kids from the 
snakes of Velrian.

Not together by birth.
But bonded by survival

The skyline of Velrian zipped past as Alya and Nolan sprinted across the rooftops like shadows. Boots slammed metal. Rust groaned beneath them, but neither faltered.

“Left—gap incoming!” Nolan called out.

Alya was already airborne, flipping over a broken railing and landing hard.
“Still with me, slowpoke?”

Nolan landed beside her without a sound. “Barely trying.”

Alya snorted. “Mou jumps better.”

Right on cue, Mou launched over a ten-foot gap with feline grace. Nolan side-eyed the beast.
“Royal pain, that one.”

They reached a rooftop edge—five-meter drop. Alya jumped.

She nearly slipped—Nolan caught her wrist and hauled her up.
“Try not to die before the mission.”

Alya winked. “Would ruin your night, huh?”

They pressed on—vaulting chimneys, sliding under beams, dodging shattered neon. The Core Zone loomed ahead—cold steel, sharp edges, guards posted like statues.

They ducked behind an old airship dock. Two guards.

Alya moved first—clean and brutal. One down.

The second turned—Nolan’s blade found his throat. Silence.

“Let’s deliver this damn package,” Alya whispered.

Inside.

Cold light. Sterile halls. Humming silence.

A man waited beside a cryo capsule.
“You’re early,” he muttered.

“We don’t wait,” Alya replied.

He reached for the case. “It’s ready, just—”

CRACK.
His skull split.

Blood sprayed the wall.

Both teens froze.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Slow. Surgical.

Six figures emerged—dark armor, mirrored visors. The front one wore silver plating, a platinum jaw gleaming like death itself. His presence didn’t speak. It devoured the room.

Nolan’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Alya… those are not guards
 they are-ee Nexus Hunters!”