POV: Shared (Nogare / Hana / Kuroba)
The morning air was heavy with soot and silence. From the ridge above Bustleburg, the city sprawled below them — a maze of blackened rooftops and crooked alleyways, still half-shrouded by the fog of dawn. Thin plumes of smoke drifted upward like dying prayers, rising from chimneys and burned carts.
Nogare stood at the edge of the cliff, his expression unreadable as he studied the distant walls. The others crouched behind him, cloaked in muted colors, their breath forming small clouds in the chill air. No patrols moved along the main road. No guards called from the gates.
"It feels… wrong," Hana whispered. Her bow was half-drawn, her gaze flicking between the empty streets and the stillness that clung to the city. "It's too quiet. Like they're avoiding us."
Nogare didn't answer immediately. His gloved hand rested lightly on the hilt of his katana. Behind them, Ryuji adjusted his cloak, muttering under his breath as if to chase away his own unease.
"Or," Nogare finally said, "we're moving exactly where we're meant to."
The others exchanged uneasy looks. Only Kaito seemed indifferent, standing apart from the group, his eyes locked on the distant northern gate.
Nogare turned toward him. "You'll stay by the northwest gate. Anyone who passes — kill them. No exceptions. Use any method you like."
Kaito gave a short nod, his voice low. "Understood." He pulled the scarf higher over his face and began descending the ridge, disappearing into the mist like a shadow swallowed by its source.
Nogare turned to the others, his tone becoming brisk, surgical. "Zentake — that tall cobblestone building near the plaza. Go inside. Have fun."
Zentake grinned, already slinging his pack of strange bottles and scrolls across his shoulder. "Fun, huh? Don't have to tell me twice."
"Kuroba," Nogare continued, "the long structure opposite it. Scout it from the inside. Kill anyone wearing a black cape."
Kuroba tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "No witnesses?"
Nogare's eyes flickered, reflecting a sliver of light. "No survivors."
The rogue nodded and melted into the fog, his twin blades glinting once before vanishing into silence.
Finally, Nogare turned to Hana. "You'll track the movement in the northern alleys. Focus on black-caped individuals. Don't engage unless necessary."
"And Ryuji?" Hana asked.
Nogare's faint smile returned — one that carried neither warmth nor cruelty, just inevitability. "Ryuji prepares the fireworks."
Ryuji scoffed but began pulling small bottles of black powder and rune-etched orbs from his satchel. "Fine. I'll try not to burn the city before you're done killing everyone."
Nogare didn't respond. His gaze swept over them one last time — six figures poised on the edge of something greater than themselves. Then, with a single motion, he drew his hood and stepped forward. "Move."
The team split, vanishing into Bustleburg's northern cliff paths, each taking a different route down the jagged rock face.
---
[Hana's POV]
The descent into the city felt like stepping into a graveyard.
Hana's boots landed softly on cobblestone as she moved through the shadowed streets, her breath steady, bow in hand. The buildings loomed tall and narrow, the alleys tight enough that sound barely traveled. Every step echoed faintly, swallowed by distance.
She kept her eyes sharp. There were signs of life — a shutter creaking closed, a faint murmur behind a door — but no soldiers. No guards.
Her instincts prickled. The Valerians weren't gone. They were hiding.
She climbed onto a low roof and scanned the area. Across the plaza, she caught sight of movement — a dark shape slipping into a tall building. Zentake. Opposite him, another figure moved along the shadows near a long structure — Kuroba. Both in position.
Her pulse steadied. Everything was unfolding as Nogare intended.
Or so she thought.
---
[Kuroba's POV]
The window latch gave way with a soft click. Kuroba slipped inside the long, narrow building, the air thick with dust and the faint scent of oil. Rows of bunks lined the walls — a sleeping quarters.
He moved like smoke, blades drawn. Only one figure slept inside, his black cape folded neatly beside him.
Kuroba didn't hesitate. Two flashes of silver crossed in the dark. The man never woke.
Blood pooled quietly on the wooden floor. Kuroba wiped his blades on the dead man's sleeve and exhaled through his nose. "Too easy."
He crept to the doorway, scanning the corridor. The silence beyond felt unnatural — the kind that comes before something breaks.
---
[Nogare's POV]
From his vantage point on a rooftop overlooking the northern plaza, Nogare watched the operation unfold. Zentake's building — cobblestone walls, shuttered windows — flickered with faint light from within. A sign of struggle. Good.
Kuroba's building remained still. Efficient.
He could already sense the tension coiling through the city, invisible threads pulling tight. The Valerians were there — waiting, calculating.
Nogare's hand brushed the hilt of his blade, the whisper of steel almost audible against the wind.
"The city breathes differently today," he murmured. "Let's see how long it lasts."
Far below, Ryuji's first rune flared in the dark — a faint, pulsing glow that painted the stones red.
Bustleburg, the sleeping beast, had just begun to stir.