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3 days later..
On the twelfth floor of Jenny's towering skyscraper—known to all as the New Dawn Guild—the city stretched out below like a patchwork of light and shadow.
Today, Sinn moved slowly, his usual energy dulled by a rare laziness, even though he knew his mission was drawing near.
Jenny had promised him riches beyond imagination if he succeeded as her Commissioned hunter, enough wealth to last several lifetimes.
The reward for this hunt would be enormous, more than enough for Sinn to finally gather the last ingredients he needed.
One was called the blood of fairy flowers—a name that sounded magical and grand, but in truth, its value was rather ordinary.
The other ingredient, the ash fruit of Satar, was far more important.
It could help other purebloods awaken, giving them a deeper understanding of their bodies and minds.
Yet, it was a painful fruit to digest for anyone with a normal body.
Food in this world was never simple or square-shaped; each dish was unique, often described in old books as red foods born from ancient cooking or farming methods.
But now, in the year 2912, almost everything from the past had vanished.
History was treated more like a myth than something to learn from.
No one truly understood why the world had changed so much.
Some ancient texts spoke of mythical beings—vampires, dragons, and others—while critics dismissed these stories as fake legends from the 1400s. Once, emperors ruled the land, but now only council members held power.
Even the way leaders were chosen had been abandoned, replaced by government policies that left people feeling lost.
Contamination was a constant threat, creeping through the population and claiming lives one by one.
No one knew when it might begin, or when a new realm would appear.
In this world, realms weren't fantasy portals leading to dungeons.
Instead, they were gateways into someone else's history—a glimpse into fragments of a planet long destroyed.
Sometimes, two people lived within these realms, but it was unclear whether they were real or just echoes of the past.
The cause of these strange phenomena remained unknown, but everyone understood the danger:
if a realm wasn't conquered in time, its energy would leak into the real world, slowly changing people's DNA and blood over generations.
That was how halflings came to exist.
Some halflings were born intentionally, inheriting special powers.
In earlier times, contamination was feared—one mistake could cost a life.
Realms were seen not as treasures, but as diseases needing quarantine.
Anyone who entered a realm couldn't leave until they succeeded.
Time inside was unpredictable, and no one ever knew what awaited them—sometimes a monster of unimaginable size.
This uncertainty was why people gave up trying to conquer the realms.
Perhaps, long ago, when realms were first discovered, people made the mistake of trying to control them, only to lose their history and themselves.
Sinn's room overflowed with books—stacks of novels, histories, and common knowledge filled every corner of his living space and bedroom.
He spent hours expanding his vocabulary and understanding of the world, relying on more than just his own memories.
Ancient books whispered secrets about forgotten languages, skills, and signs, most of which were no longer used.
Now, the common language was Eclion—a simplified tongue built from the remains of English and Russian, shaped by the needs of the present.
A sudden knock at the door, followed by the ring of the doorbell, pulled Sinn from his reading. Setting his book aside, he left his room and opened the door.
He wore black pants, a black shirt, and a flowing black coat that gave him an air of mystery, almost like a character from one of his novels.
His red eyes glowed faintly, adding to his intimidating presence.
He never removed his mask, hiding his insecurities and refusing to let anyone see him as a freak.
Standing outside was Luther, with Max close behind.
Their gazes didn't linger on Sinn, but instead drifted to the three other purebloods sitting quietly on the floor inside.
They were spaced apart, neither close nor distant, and seemed barely aware of their surroundings—as if sedated, not truly alive.
Sinn had grown used to this silence after spending so much time with them.
Whatever happened in that factory, whatever experiments they endured, had changed them forever.
Though Luther wished he could help, he knew it wasn't his place to interfere.
Sinn had already promised he had a plan to save them.
To Sinn, the future was still unwritten.
To Sinn, a storm of conflict churned beneath his calm exterior.
He remembered all too well that, in the past, only Nel had survived among the purebloods.
Yet, through his actions—whether by fate or design—he had managed to save not just one, but three purebloods this time.
Responsibility weighed on him; he had given them a chance at life, and now their survival was partly his burden.
Though Sinn could eliminate anyone who threatened his path, he wondered if he could truly abandon the last purebloods besides himself.
He understood all too well how cruel this world was.
Perhaps protecting them until they found their footing wouldn't be such a significant setback.
He wasn't inherently evil—just a pureblood driven by goals and dreams, willing to shackle or sacrifice anything necessary to realize his vision.
He knew exactly what rare item was needed to bring them back to consciousness.
But if they wished for true intelligence, for self-awareness, they would have to fight for it themselves.
After all, if Nel could achieve an average level of thought and awareness, perhaps these others could as well.
In Sinn's mind, good pawns were those who believed they'd been rescued.
He stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
He had entrusted Jenny with the care of the others—not out of indifference, but from a quiet fear of growing too attached to his kin.
Though they were altered, their essence still mirrored his own.
The risk of forging bonds ran deep; it was safer to keep his distance, allowing Jenny to nurture connections he dared not form.
Yet, in the shadows of his mind, Sinn considered planting a sense of belonging within them—a subtle tether that would make them loyal, reliable pawns.
With such ties, achieving his ambitions would become all the more attainable.
He pushed these thoughts aside as Luther and Max waited nearby, their conversation drifting through the hallway.
"Sinn, looks like you're finally heading out on a mission today," Luther called, his voice bright with laughter.
"Jenny must've found something better for you than rotting away in your room."
Luther's relentless cheerfulness grated on Sinn's nerves, making his efforts to remain detached feel almost pointless.
No matter how hard he tried to separate himself from the group, Luther's energy always seemed to pull him back in.
Sinn needed money, knowledge, and a deeper understanding of this world—and, though he hated to admit it, he needed protection too.
Still, outwardly, he remained composed, his expression unreadable.
"I honestly never thought Jenny would give you another job after how things ended last time," Luther continued, glancing at Max.
"Right, Max?"
Max stood quietly, his broad frame imposing yet gentle.
Despite his intimidating appearance, he was known for his kindness—a reputation helped along by his soft, animal-like ears.
He shrugged indifferently, but a subtle smirk betrayed his amusement.
Sinn's irritation simmered.
Not only were they mocking him, but they also reminded him that he'd left them waiting for three days.
Sensing Sinn's growing anger, Luther quickly changed the subject.
"Anyway, about your mission," Luther said, his tone turning serious. "You're taking on a bounty hunter job.
The prize is ten million zel for the head of someone named Lamar."
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle before continuing.
"Lamar's a halfling, protected by someone on the Vestige Path. He's got a gang—loyal allies who rarely leave his side."
It was unknown who the vestige was, but he was extremely dangerous.
He could condense fog to obscure one's senses as well as distort energy manipulation.
Soon after, Luther paused before taking action and asked a simple question: "Sinn, you don't know what a vestige is, do you?"
Although Luther believed Sinn knew what a vestige was, he was not willing to gamble another person's life on a mere assumption.
Sinn stared intently at Luther, pausing briefly in hesitation and contemplating his answer before finally speaking.
"I do."
His response was straightforward, and he was unwilling to elaborate on how he knew
Realizing this, Luther and Max moved on and continued discussing the mission.
But soon Luther's face darkened as he explained further.
"The crime? Lamar raped and used multiple girls as sacrifices, all to gain power for some twisted, evil element. No one knows exactly what he gains from it, so the danger level is high. The ten million zel is just the starting payment."
"If the risk outweighs the reward, the commissioner is willing to raise the price to thirty million—as long as you deliver Lamar's head."
Luther hesitated, then added softly, "If you're wondering, the commissioner was a victim too.
His daughter was nearly sacrificed, but thankfully, she wasn't harmed in that way."
He looked at Sinn, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "So, what do you think? Are you up for the challenge?"
Sinn studied the file in his hands—the details, the payout, the list of enemies.
This mission would be difficult alone, but not impossible. Nowhere did it say he had to face Lamar by himself, nor that Lamar had to be the first target.
The only requirement was that Lamar's head be delivered. That left room for strategy, for finding another way in.
Perhaps one of Lamar's people had family. Perhaps there was another path.
A slow, sinister smile crept across Sinn's lips, hidden safely behind his mask.