Early morning. Two days had passed since K.P.R. began his trek.

At a roadside diner in the western countryside of the Iota Territory, several local police cruisers pulled into the lot. An officer stepped out of his vehicle, followed by his partner. He moved with a calculated swagger—the kind of arrogance you only find in men who have spent far too much time in the filth of criminal back-alleys. The locals nodded to him as he passed, a clear sign that he was a man well-known in these areas.

He gestured to the other units to stay back, signaling that only he and his partner would enter. With a mocking smirk, he looked at an old man sweeping dust in the parking lot.

"Look at that. Ali, the old man still sweeping after a thousand years," he chuckled.

Old Ali lifted his head, his face a mask of indifference. "Good to see you too, Officer Nadeem," he replied quietly.

Nadeem gave a single, condescending laugh and pushed through the diner doors.

Inside, the officer froze. K.P.R. was waiting for him, tucked into a booth in a far corner. He was a wreck—covered in grime, his uniform tattered as if he had just crawled out of a high-speed collision.

Nadeem walked toward him with slow, deliberate steps, studying the man’s haunting features. "You look like hell," he said, his tone turning serious. "I can call an ambulance if you need one."

"I'm fine," K.P.R. replied with a chilling calmness, though the shock of the accident still lingered in his eyes. "Did the Administration send you?"

Nadeem scoffed. "What else would bring me out to this dump?"

Suddenly, the tattoo on K.P.R.'s neck began to glow. Nadeem stared at it, visibly stunned. He set his cap on the table and signaled for his partner to step outside.

"This is a first for me," Nadeem said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’ve never dealt with someone with this level of clearance. You really have a Class A Mind_walker. The director's office ain't lying after all."

"Then you know why you're here," K.P.R. said.

"Yeah, but the real question is, what are you doing here anyway?"

"Trying to stay off the grid. People here in Ben Ghasheer don't care about new faces. Everyone’s too busy looking out for themselves."

Nadeem sneered. "That’s because this town is crawling with travelers. Drifters, mostly."

"maybe that's why It’s easy to blend in."

After a momentary silence, Nadeem leaned back. "Things are spiraling out of control out there... ever since they broadcast the news of Governor Solomon Atherdeen's death yesterday. But don't worry, my team is already investigating the incident. What kind of monster kills dozens of people like that? You’re lucky to be alive. Reports say the Western Magnum Tower was practically leveled by the blast."

"Is she okay?" K.P.R. interrupted.

"Who?"

"She said her name was Sara. The little girl I carried to the hospital."

Nadeem sighed. "Oh, the little girl. Yeah, it was a hell of a thing you did, pulling her out from under the rubble. I was at the hospital yesterday. The doctor said they might have to amputate her leg."

K.P.R.’s battered fist slammed onto the table, his grip tightening in rage. "I promised her she’d be okay. She looked at me with those big innocent eyes... she believed me."

"You did what you had to do," Nadeem said, exhaling slowly. He turned to look out the window. "And take it from me... don't make promises you can't keep. Out here, nobody knows what’s coming. Death doesn't knock before it enters. That’s the first thing I learned working in this city."

A waiter approached the table, his hands trembling as he set two glasses of water down. "Anything else, sir?" he asked Nadeem.

Without looking at him, Nadeem waved him away. "Enjoy," the waiter muttered before retreating.

K.P.R. stared into the stillness of the water in his glass. "I was heading for the Epsilon Territory. It happened so fast. One minute I was approaching the tower, the next I was airborne. Then I hit the ground."

"You think the Separatists were behind it?" Nadeem asked, shifting his gaze back to K.P.R. He glanced down, noticing the man's hand trembling as he gripped the glass.

"Most likely," K.P.R.replied, his eyes fixed and vacant. "The industrial territories have been seeing a lot of sabotage lately. Three utility buildings rigged with explosives so far, not to mention the failed attempts. Why else do you think they’ve locked down the territories and restricted travel for this long?"

"Maybe it’s the same group that took out Governor Solomon."

"Maybe."

"people thought his last speech would actually calm things down," Nadeem muttered.

"We need to finish the mission. Fast," K.P.R. said.

"If it’s this bad here, I can’t imagine what Epsilon looks like. I can’t even fathom how we’ll end up in those nightmare zones... I wouldn’t have taken this job if the pay wasn't so damn good."

The glass in K.P.R.'s hand began to creak. Spiderweb cracks spread across the surface, but he remained motionless.

"And what would a man like you know about Epsilon?" K.P.R. asked coldly. "Have you ever even set foot there, or are you just talking trash like everyone else?"

Nadeem saw the cracks in the glass. He realized his words had hit a nerve. He forced a fake cough to de-escalate. "Actually, no. I’ve never left Iota. But let me tell you something crazy... I heard from my grandmother that the shores of Epsilon are the most beautiful shores among all other territories"

The moment the last words left his mouth, the glass shattered. Shards sprayed across the table. K.P.R. stared at his hand as if the sound had suddenly woken him from a trance. He looked up at Nadeem, who sat perfectly still, calmly lifting his hat so the spilled water wouldn't touch it.

The diner fell into a dead silence. Every head turned toward them. The waiter rushed over to dry the table.

"Sorry," K.P.R. said, rubbing his temple. "I didn't mean to do that."

Nadeem eyed him warily, his brow furrowed. He stood up. "Anyway, even if we head for the Southern Magnum Tower—which is our best shot—we can't use our official clearances. Not after what just happened lately. This operation has to stay black. The original plan was to transport you to Epsilon as a 'prisoner,' but they’ve delayed the transfer until next week. Waiting might be our only option. Even Astrolabe Adminstration hasn't given us a backup plan yet."

"We don't have time to wait. We need a solution, and we need it now," K.P.R. insisted.

Nadeem raised an eyebrow. "You seem more worried about this than the Administration itself."

K.P.R. turned to snap back at him, but they were interrupted by a commotion across the room. A delinquent teenager was screaming at the waiter. The kid grabbed the waiter by the hair. "If you put meat in my soup like you claimed, then why can't I see any?!"

"But I’m sure it was there when I brought it out!" the waiter stammered.

"Oh yeah? How about I shove your head in the bowl so you can look for it yourself, you dirty robot," the teen spat. "You took our faces, you steal our jobs, and you can't even serve a decent meal."

"Husam!" Nadeem barked from across the room. His face was a mask of cold fury. "Leave him alone. Don't make me kick your ass for the twentieth time just so your mother can come crying to the precinct again. How many times do I have to warn you?"

Husam, the arrogant youth whose face bore the scars of a hard life, clearly respected Nadeem. He let go of the waiter, who scrambled back toward the kitchen. "Officer Nadeem, he’s trying to lie to me!"

"Drop the act," Nadeem said. "Everyone knows you eat the meat first and then pick a fight just to get a free meal."

Husam grinned widely. "Hey, at least I tried."

"You're still an idiot."

Husam hesitated. "Am I... in trouble?"

"Just get out of my sight," Nadeem replied, waving him off.

Husam retreated to his friends, a group of young outcasts dressed in strange, colorful gear, looking like they were headed to some kind of carnival.

"A pack of morons," Nadeem muttered, watching them.

"You know that kid?" K.P.R. asked.

Nadeem looked down. "Yeah, unfortunately. His father was in my unit. One of the best men I ever knew. A few years back, he was transferred to a training unit for some new android cops. A freak accident happened—a simple mistake by one of the units—and he bled out on the floor. Husam thinks it was a cover-up to replace him. He’s hated 'Rust-buckets' ever since. I’ve arrested him and his friends more times than I can count, but sometimes I feel bad for the them. This town doesn't show mercy to anyone. Still, those punks are talented on those bikes... at least it keeps them busy."

Nadeem leaned against a pillar near the table. Husam approached again, more slowly this time. "What now? More trouble?" Nadeem asked.

Husam laughed, pulling a ticket from his pocket. "No, relax. I just wanted to give you this. It’s a pass for the Annual Inter-Territory Motorcycle Festival in Epsilon. I’m gonna win the cup this time."

"Heh... yeah, just like last time, right? When you competed on that pile of scrap metal?" Nadeem mocked.

"I’ve been training!" Husam said confidently.

Nadeem froze. "Wait a second. Wasn't the festival suspended because of Governor Solomon's death?"

"Haven't you seen the news? For some reason, they approved it. They’re saying it’s a 'tribute' to the Governor."

"A clever move to bleed off public anger," Nadeem whispered to himself, stunned. "But don't get your hopes up. The Magnum Towers are all locked down. Transport is suspended indefinitely."

"And I thought the police knew everything," Husam smirked.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"They’re allowing all registered race-transporters from every territory to pass through the Southern Magnum Tower," Husam explained. "There are hundreds of participants heading there. You have no idea how big the prep for this festival is. Our transport was actually delayed; that’s why we’re stuck here. We move out in a few hours."

"Why give me this ticket if only participants can go?" Nadeem asked.

"I don't know... aren't you a cop? Use your connections."

Nadeem murmured to himself, "Believe me, kid... you have no idea."

K.P.R. had been listening intently. He looked at Husam. "You said only participants can pass through, unless for now, right? What does it take to be a participant? Is there a permit?"

"Basically, if you have a bike, you can enter," Husam said. "The permits are issued at the gate, not here."

K.P.R. looked at Officer Nadeem. "What do you think?"

Nadeem smirked. "I think... I’m going to request two bikes and some identity modifications."

"No, I'm taking my own bike," K.P.R. stated.

"They told me it was totaled in the crash."

"Don't worry about my bike. It’s seen much worse than a tower explosion. I sent it for repairs yesterday; it’ll be ready for another round by the time we leave."

"Wait, you two are entering the race?!" Husam asked, eyes wide.

Nadeem grabbed the boy by the ear. "If I hear you breathe a word of what you heard here, I will put you in a cell for the rest of your life."

"Okay! Okay! Let go!" Husam yelped.

the boy scrambled back to his table. K.P.R. let out a short, dry laugh. "I think I need to change these clothes. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us."

"Yeah," Nadeem replied. "To Magnum Tower."

"To Magnum Tower," K.P.R. repeated.

Magnum... the gateway where all territories connect.