Deep within London, inside an ancient stone prison resembling a cemetery for time itself, Edgar stood under a faint light dangling from a copper lamp swaying in a high ceiling. The air was suffocating, laden with the smell of iron, rust, and old sweat, as if the very walls had imprisoned the breaths of the men who had spent their lives here.
There was no gateway to another world in the literal sense. But the prison, with its silent philosophy, was indeed another world—a world symbolizing punishment, and man's struggle with himself when trapped within walls he built with his own hands unknowingly.
Edgar stood rigidly near one of the long corridors, not yet knowing what was required of him. His mission, as indicated by the silver bracelet on his wrist, was:
"Accompany the Angry Steel."
But to where? And who was this "Angry Steel" anyway?
The place was almost empty, save for the footsteps of the guards dragging their heavy chains on the stone floor in a metallic monotony. Suddenly, the guard who had met him at the entrance—his face pale and his mustache wet with rain—entered and handed him a letter sealed with a key-shaped stamp.
He said with obvious worry:
"Wait here a little... we'll bring the prisoner."
Edgar took the letter with his usual coldness and opened it without haste. The paper contained strange instructions, a route starting from the prison to Big Ben, where the Organization was located. Only then did Edgar understand that his mission was to escort this mysterious person, nicknamed "Ronny, the Angry Steel," from the prison to there.
He raised his head towards the darkness stretching down the long corridor, his gray eyes like two mirrors reflecting the deadly stillness of the place. Then he heard something... a sound coming from the depths.
Ting... ting...
It was the sound of chains hitting the ground in a regular rhythm, accompanied by a hoarse voice counting:
"One... two... one... two..."
And from the depths of the darkness, a massive, swaying shadow emerged into the weak light. Then he appeared—a man, or rather a beast, with fiery red hair and burning brown eyes. His body was covered in numerous scars, and his smile carried enough madness to match his name. His body stood over two meters tall, his shoulders broad as if forged from steel itself.
As for the four guards accompanying him, they didn't seem to be controlling him so much as they were weights he was training with. He lifted two on one side and two on the other, while they screamed in vain as he continued counting in a booming, military voice:
"One! Two! One! Two!"
He stopped in front of Edgar, just two arm's lengths away, and looked down at him with a smile half-mocking, half-threatening.
He said in a rough voice resembling the grating of iron on iron:
"What are you looking at, boy? Do you want a turn too?"
Edgar raised his head coldly, showing him the letter without blinking:
"I'm here to escort you."
Ronny laughed loudly, making the ceiling vibrate, and said:
"Oh... good. And will you actually do it?"
Their gazes locked in a long, charged confrontation, as if the air between them had become a weapon. One was cold as ice, the other blazing with fire.
Outside, Duncan—the donkey—was pacing nervously. He thought Edgar was now inside one of the Doors, fighting a new monster as usual. He sat for a moment, then began kicking the iron gate with his thick hoof.
Booom!
A kick from a Level S donkey, but the gate didn't budge.
Duncan shouted,panting:
"Open the door, come on!"
But no one answered. After a few minutes, the door finally opened, and Duncan raised his ears anxiously, waiting to see who would emerge.
Edgar came out first,in his wet red clothes.
Duncan said with great relief:
"Oh, thank God! Did you get the key?"
Edgar replied with an unsettling calm:
"Yes... here he comes."
Then, from behind him, emerged Ronny the Angry Steel. Duncan froze in place, looked up slowly, then raised his left eyebrow and said, astonished:
"I think you brought out the monster, not the key."
Ronny let out a roaring laugh and said, slapping Edgar's shoulder with a force that made him stagger:
"Hahaha! And this is your companion? Truly different, it seems you're a lucky boy to have a royal companion!"
Then he reached into the pocket of his short red trousers—a traditional Irish kilt that barely covered his knees—and pulled out a small gray rat, placing it on his shoulder.
The giant said proudly:
"Let me introduce you to Rat. He's smarter than half the humans here."
The rat opened its mouth and spoke in a high, sarcastic voice:
"Hehe, you have a donkey companion? Does he carry you to missions? Wonderful, that'll save us fuel!"
Edgar didn't respond, merely offering a slight, sideways smile. As for Duncan, he lowered his ears and snorted with suppressed anger, feeling humiliated.
The three of them left the place together, walking down a muddy path in the rain. Ronny walked bare-chested, his heavy steps leaving deep impressions in the mud, the cold striking his massive body without eliciting a single shiver.
But after a few minutes, he suddenly stopped at a crossroads and stared at an orange light coming from a nearby tavern:
"Ooohoho... I've missed a refreshing drink, the drink of freedom."
Edgar said with rare sternness:
"We're not here to drink. The instructions are clear, we must go now."
But before he could finish his sentence, Ronny grabbed him by the collar of his coat and threw him aside into the mud as if he weighed no more than a feather.
Ronny said with an innocent smile:
"It's your mission, not mine."
The rat, "Rat," laughed from his shoulder, while Duncan ran towards Edgar to help him up.
Duncan said in a tone mixing worry and sarcasm:
"It seems we have a difficult mission this time."
Edgar replied, brushing the mud off his gray coat:
"I just wanted to get the payment and return... but it seems this giant will make the mission more chaotic."
He paused for a moment, looked towards the tavern Ronny had entered, then added in a cold voice:
"Too bad for them they didn't specify in the instructions... whether he needs to return alive or dead."