The streets of Hellington teemed with life, but not the joyful kind of a peaceful city. The crowd flowed like a raging river: people walking fast with lowered gazes, shoulders bent, as if even breathing cost effort.

Shouts, horns, the roar of machinery and the smell of burnt oil saturated the air.

It was life.

But without a single smile.

Sky walked beside Shark, neck stretched forward, eyes darting everywhere in wonder. He suddenly stopped, pointing at a long line of metallic objects jerking along the road.

«Do people really live like this? Nobody’s laughing… they all look like they’re running away! Hey! What are those things with wheels? I’ve never seen them before!»

Shark stared at him with tired eyes, like someone watching a child who had just discovered the world.

«They’re cars, idiot. They move people around. And yeah… of course you’ve never seen one. Look where you come from.»

Sky made a face, scratching the back of his head, more confused than offended.

The Land of Windmills, where he had grown up, was completely different.

A wide countryside where fields swayed with the wind and small farms of wood and stone dotted the land.

In the village everyone knew each other: farmers, fishermen, blacksmiths, shepherds… each with a simple but essential trade.

Life was modest, but no one went hungry, and everyone learned to stand on their own when hard times came.

Sky remembered the distant snow-covered mountains and the scent of damp grass in the morning.

There, silence was broken only by birdsong or the slow turning of the windmill blades.

It had been his home.

A place he knew well… but one he had always dreamed of leaving behind.

The noise of Hellington pulled him back to the present.

Shark walked with rigid shoulders, his gaze sliding across the crowd as if searching for trouble before it arrived.

Sky, instead, kept bombarding him with questions, eyes bright with curiosity.

«Why does it smell so bad here?»

«Smog,» Shark replied without taking his eyes off the crowd.

«Factories. They burn stuff all day. See those pipes? That’s where this stink comes from.»

Sky coughed, wrinkling his nose.

«Bleah… and what do they work themselves to death for? What do they even make?»

Shark answered sharply, as if the question itself annoyed him.

«Warships. They build Imperial stuff here… assault boats, whatever you want to call them. Fast, armed, made to invade. Everything here runs on war. End of story.»

Sky fell silent. He swallowed, looking again at the people around him —

but this time with different eyes.

He realized none of them were truly living.

They were gears.

Gears in a massive, cruel machine.

«It’s… terrible,» he murmured. «No one looks happy here.»

Shark curled his lip.

«Happy? Here you survive. Either you dominate… or you get used.»

Sky lowered his gaze.

A thin unease began to grow inside him.

It didn’t have a name yet… or maybe it did.

Slavery.

They kept walking through the crowd without a word.

And as they crossed those oppressive streets, they didn’t notice they were already being watched.

Across the road, hidden within the shadows cast by the industrial buildings, a motionless figure followed their every movement. It didn’t move. It didn’t speak. It seemed like part of the city itself, an outline trapped between iron and smoke.

For a brief instant, silence cut through the chaos.

Then the crowd closed in again, swallowing every trace.

As they walked through Hellington’s streets, drowned in the merchants’ noise and the constant roar of machines, Shark felt something that made his blood run cold. A subtle sensation. Irritating. Like an invisible scratch at the back of his neck.

It wasn’t fear. It was instinct.

Someone was following them.

He shifted his gaze slightly —

without truly turning —

and saw him.

A man dressed in dark clothes, face half-covered by a scarf. Walking in the same direction, always keeping the same distance. Never too close.

Never too far.

Too precise to be just another passerby.

Shark’s brow tightened.

His voice came out low, tense.

«Someone’s on us.»

Sky’s eyes widened, ready to turn —

But Shark stopped him sharply.

«Don’t look. Keep walking. Act normal.»

«Huh? How am I supposed to know who it is if I don’t look?!»

«Trust me. He can’t know we noticed.»

They picked up the pace, blending into the crowd. But the man kept following. Agile. Silent. Relentless.

Hellington wasn’t just any city: a maze of alleys, mud and smoke. Perfect for tailing someone. Perfect… for trapping them.

Shark’s heart began to pound. It wasn’t a coincidence. Someone was tracking them… and he hated it.

«This way. Move.»

They turned sharply into a narrow, suffocating alley where light barely reached and the smell of mold and garbage filled the air.

They sped up.

Almost running.

Behind them — footsteps.

Fast. Precise.

It was no longer a suspicion. He was chasing them.

They saw it suddenly: a rusted iron ladder climbing along the side of a building.

Tall.

Narrow.

Dangerously vertical.

It led to the upper floors of an old apartment complex.

«Up there! Move!» Shark growled.

Sky hesitated, pale.

«Wow! That’s high!»

«You want to fall or get caught? Move!»

There was no time to argue. They threw themselves onto the ladder, climbing two steps at a time.

The old metal creaked under every movement.

As if it could snap at any moment.

Behind them — footsteps getting closer.

Fast. Incoming.

Every creak was a warning.

Every breath, too loud.

Six floors later, breathless and with hearts hammering, they reached a small terrace. Ahead of them, an open window.

Dark.

Like an invitation… or a leap into the unknown.

«Inside. Now.»

They vaulted over the sill and landed heavily on the floor inside the building.

For a moment, only silence.

Outside, the city kept breathing iron and smoke. Inside, the air stood still. Heavy. Unfamiliar.

The escape wasn’t over.

It had just begun.

—

Next Episode — Without Direction