The sun struggled to slip through the narrow slits of the barracks, crawling along the stone walls and staining them with a tired orange glow.

Sky sprang up, almost leaping out of bed.

He was hungry.

Truly hungry.

Glorious images were already forming in his mind—warm bread, fragrant pastries, meat still sizzling over open fire. After days of relentless training, breakfast felt like a sacred promise.

That promise died the moment he stepped into the mess hall.

Lined up across the tables were nothing but bowls filled with a grayish sludge. A thick, lifeless mash of potatoes and beans, dense and dull, carrying a stale smell. The recruits ate in silence, heads lowered, like resigned prisoners.

Not far away, separated by a long, polished table, the veterans laughed and feasted on colorful plates—spiced meats, golden bread.

Another world entirely.

Sky dropped onto a bench and stared at his bowl.

“Seriously?” he muttered. “This is animal feed…”

A thought crossed his mind, sharp and sudden.

If I stay here too long, I’ll either go insane… or starve to death.

The idea of escaping Castel Rock began to feel surprisingly reasonable.

The mess hall doors slammed open.

A red-haired recruit strode in, his steps firm. His gaze was dark, his shoulders stiff—the look of someone already fed up with the entire world. Without a word, he grabbed a tray and shoved it toward the cook.

When the same gray slop landed in his bowl, his face twisted.

“What the hell is this shit?!”

The bowl flew across the room, exploding against the counter with a wet, disgusting sound.

The mess hall fell silent.

The cook stepped forward, veins bulging in his neck as he snarled. “You wanna say that again, brat?!”

“You heard me just fine.” The recruit shoved him hard.

In an instant, they were face to face. Someone tried to pull them apart, but it was useless. A table overturned. A bench collapsed. Fists began to fly.

Chaos.

Sky watched the scene for a moment… then smiled.

“Oh. Finally, some action.”

He jumped into the brawl without hesitation.

Not out of heroism.

Not to defend anyone.

Just because he was bored.

Wild punches, knee strikes, bodies hitting the floor. Sky moved through it all laughing, like he was playing a game only he understood. Every blow that missed him was nothing more than wind to slip through.

His only goal was simple: to have fun.

A sharp crack thundered through the air.

Everyone froze.

He stood in the doorway.

Captain Sharlok.

His imperial uniform was flawless, not a single crease in sight. The dark green cloak draped over his shoulders like a living shadow. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

His cold gaze sliced through the mess hall like an invisible blade.

In one fluid motion, without the slightest sign of effort, he grabbed Sky by the collar with one hand and the red-haired recruit with the other. He lifted them off the ground as if they were empty sacks and dragged them outside.

The soldiers parted instinctively as he passed, as if their bodies had decided before their minds.

Only inside his office did Sharlok speak. His voice was calm, measured. Every word weighed like a verdict.

“You two… have a remarkable talent for trouble.”

The red-haired recruit jerked violently, anger flashing in his eyes.

“My name is Barron Shark. And I won’t tolerate being treated like trash.”

Sky, on the other hand, smiled as if nothing had happened.

“I’m Sky Light! Nice to meet you!”

Sharlok stared at them. No emotion. No reaction.

“Perfect,” he finally said.

“Sky and Shark. From this moment on… you are punishment partners.”

—

Next Episode — The Gallows of Balance