Volume 0—Part 1—Chapter 3: The Night Hunt
The large modern bourgeois city was still sleeping.
Psira stretched out beneath the night, crossed by suspended and superimposed roads, crossing each other in all directions like an aerial labyrinth. A perfect model of a modern A-type city, radically different from contemporary B-type cities — two bourgeois visions of progress, but separated by an aesthetic and technological gulf.
Above her, the night shone.
Black — and yet clear.
A new moon dominated the sky, surrounded by sparkling star clusters. The wind carried a cold breeze capable of making anyone exposed to it shiver. The universe seemed visible from the earth itself – an almost unreal, magical spectacle.
But on one of the perfectly straight roads…
The silence was broken.
A transporter truck sped through the darkness.
It didn't roll—its tires had been replaced by smooth, glowing circular thrusters embedded in the chassis.
In the sky, a silhouette was twirling.
Passing from shadow to shadow, imperceptible — Thirteen was approaching.
Within range.
He threw a small sphere, the size of a ping-pong ball.
It lodged in the slot in the rear gate of the vehicle.
A sharp explosion tore through the night.
Taking advantage of the shockwave, Thirteen jumped up and ran through the cloud of smoke.
And was immediately captured.
Web shooters erupted from all sides.
Ambushed, he was pinned to the ground, immobilized without the possibility of retaliation.
Before ceasing all movement, he breathed calmly:
— Bad loading… no goods.
---
Observers
In the park, on the bench, the scene was commented on.
—Is it over yet? Black asked.
Oz smiled.
— What if we made a bet?
A ceasefire for our victory.
Black tilted his head.
—If you succeed without damage... we will be friends.
Otherwise, you will become my toys.
Oz's last words echoed as perspective returned to Thirteen:
— You haven't seen anything yet… what ignorance.
---
Multiplication
The captured body liquefied.
He became a shadow.
Living ink.
Across the city, other identical figures—twelve copies—were simultaneously attacking other shipments.
Each captured clone dissolved...
Except three.
Three exploded suddenly.
Perfect diversion.
The real Thirteen escaped, leaping from shadow to shadow.
Floor, walls, corners — every dark area was his absolute domain.
But he was not alone.
The Light Wolves were chasing him.
Men in black cloaks with gold ornaments, transformed into hybrid werewolf forms. Their speed rivaled his own—they leapt with power, closing the distance despite his shadowportation.
Stuck, Thirteen transmitted:
— Need help... fifteen seconds.
---
Intervention
The message reached Third—Luó.
Thirteen accelerated further, breaking the sound barrier, his movements becoming almost impossible to follow. Black ink marked its wake, disrupting the pursuit.
The Light Wolf howled, dispelling the smoke.
They saw it — parallel to them, separated by several buildings.
At this moment...
A sphere of air, launched earlier, came into play.
Third and Thirteen synchronized their techniques.
Third:
— Winds and storms… Ascending tornado.
Thirteen:
— Sixth demonic art… Ascending demon.
The tornado amplified the momentum.
Thirteen spun around and was propelled skyward, so high that he was silhouetted against the moon—before disappearing into a rabbit's foot portal hidden in the clouds.
Second later, Third had already disappeared.
— He really came close to meeting the man in the moon.
---
The other players
A voice intervened:
— No need for your drafts... look at the expert.
Nine got into position.
— Nine tails — Kitsune form.
Nine tails appeared, spinning like propellers.
He dove at breakneck speed.
— The Casa is mine.
---
On a nearby roof, 63 jumped up.
Wings of blood formed on his back.
— I'm coming, sister... the scarlet stone will be recovered.
---
Further — First observed.
And in the middle — Third remained behind.
In an instant, Aliss disappeared.
A card — Nine of Spades — fell into its place.
His words floated in the air:
—This tiara that they think they took from me... already belongs to me.
---