The sun completed its path toward the horizon, allowing the stars to appear in the sky as the clouds faded with the coming darkness.
During all that time, Takeshi kept wandering through the dim districts, searching for any information that might help him about the White King Skull Gang. But the criminals who lived in those alleys rarely came out during the day.
For that reason, Takeshi looked like a madman roaming aimlessly at first glance—yet he never lost his way, nor did he return to the same place unless he had chosen a different path.
Once he returned to the lively, ordinary districts—where merchants sold their goods and crowds of people walked, hiding among them the rats of the gangs—the sun had already set, and the moon's light replaced it in the sky.
He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch of coins. His stomach had been growling the entire time, but he endured it. In fact, he decided to hold on a bit longer and postpone eating.
Amid the overwhelming crowd, he stopped a man and asked:
"Excuse me, do you know where the police headquarters is?"
The man pointed north and said, "This way."
Takeshi headed toward the police headquarters. The plan he had formed after hearing the mysterious detective Farlok entirely depended on reaching that building. He tried not to blend into the crowd, thinking to himself while staring at the ground, his eyes carrying a faint, passing gleam like white ash.
'I can still talk to people despite everything that happened. I managed to escape that cursed isolation… even though the years keep replaying in my head without stopping or fading, my hands and tongue can still handle things I haven't done in so long…'
After a few minutes, he caught sight of a large, modern-style building. It was the size of a small palace, painted black with deep blue accents that gave off the aura of law enforcement. Takeshi approached it and stopped near the corner, staring at the massive three-meter-tall gate. People nearby deliberately avoided walking close to it. He kept thinking:
'Should I do it now?'
Before he could decide, he heard loud shouting behind him—coming from within the crowd. It wasn't a scream for help or a call for rescue; it was the excited chorus of fans. The voices grew louder with each passing second until a tall man emerged from the masses.
He wore luxurious, high-class clothing and walked with a proud gaze, his sharp hazel eyes fixed ahead. His hair was long and bright orange, and his physique was clearly defined even beneath his clothes.
At first, Takeshi thought he was just a model or something similar. But with every step the man took, an intense pressure—like burning flames—struck Takeshi.
"Please look at me, Mr. Rick Ziffer!!"
"Over here!"
"Wait, just a second!"
In an instant, the crowd behind him turned into fans begging for autographs. Five police officers rushed out of the headquarters to surround Rick Ziffer so no one could get close to him.
Among the crowd, Takeshi spotted Sota—the merchant who had brought him to the city earlier. Without warning, Takeshi grabbed him by his worn shirt and yanked him out of the chaos.
"Hey, what are you doing, you bastard?!"
When Sota turned to see who had pulled him, he froze for a moment; realizing it was Takeshi softened his irritation a bit—likely irritation caused by failing to get an autograph.
"Takeshi! It's been so long!"
"It's only been one night and one day!"
Sota didn't waste a second. He pulled out the newspaper that the scorpion merchant had shown him earlier, opened the article about slave traders appearing in Eldra Village, and shoved it in Takeshi's face while panting.
Takeshi grabbed the newspaper in confusion. Ignoring all the written text, he looked straight at the drawn portrait.
"Who's this supposed to be?"
Sota froze. Sure, the drawing was terrible and made Takeshi look like a skinny horse, but anyone should at least recognize themselves.
"That's you, Takeshi!"
Takeshi quickly pulled the paper away, staring at the picture with his mouth wide open.
"That ugly thing is me?"
"Not exactly…"
It wasn't entirely surprising. Takeshi had not properly seen his own face for years. Yes, he occasionally caught a glimpse of himself when drinking from a lake, but he never paid much attention.
Sota's eyes drifted toward Takeshi's injured arm. He pointed.
"What happened to your arm?"
Takeshi raised it casually.
"Just a slight fracture. Anyway—who was that guy you were all following like idiots?"
A faint smile formed on Sota's face as he sighed.
"Idiots…"
Then he turned toward Rick Ziffer, excitement filling his eyes.
"You really don't know him? That's Rick Ziffer, one of the members of the C.P.O organization, ranked S! Damn it, I wanted his autograph so I could sell it!"
The officers and detective Farlok had indeed mentioned someone from that organization earlier, but Takeshi had brushed that part aside. Now, he sank deeper into thought.
He tilted his head.
"What is this organization?"
Sota froze again, shocked. Accepting that someone didn't know Rick Ziffer was possible—but not knowing the organization itself? That was harder to believe. He sighed and answered reluctantly:
"Well… you could say they're like superheroes who take on dangerous missions to save people. I think the slave traders who fled Eldra Village are being hunted by some of their members. As for why Rick Ziffer is here… I have no idea—"
Takeshi interrupted:
"And what about the S-rank?"
Sota closed his eyes, scratching his chin as he thought, then opened them lightly.
"Well, just like the police have three categories based on the number of stars on their uniforms, C.P.O members have four ranks, from C to A. The more skilled and experienced the member, the higher their rank. But S-rank… only a few ever reach it."
Takeshi lowered his gaze to the ground, thinking:
'According to the police, this man is here to retrieve the aura source—which means my sword. Damn it… more obstacles. First that cursed gang, then the mysterious guy who stole my sword from Yamikaji, and now this person. And judging by his fame—and the pressure he radiates—I'm nowhere near ready to face him…'
While Takeshi was drowning in thought, Rick Ziffer had already entered the police headquarters. The reception hall was shabby and disorganized, the walls decaying, insects crawling in the corners, and the smell of rotten food rising from the trash bins.
Even the police officers, not just the townspeople, swarmed around him begging for autographs. But then a tall woman stepped forward—Anastasia. She had silky brown hair and wore a blue scarf with three stars, marking her as first-class. Behind her stood a trembling young man in his twenties, staring around nervously, with two stars on his uniform. His name was Lucas.
"Follow me to the office, Mr. Ziffer."
Anastasia spoke firmly, but the crowd prevented him from moving. This drove her to scold them all—terrifying even Lucas behind her.
"Move aside, you idiots!"
They obeyed instantly, allowing Rick Ziffer to pass. His smile widened and he laughed:
"Ahahaha! A strict woman everyone fears! Anyway, I don't want to go to your office—I want all the details right here and now!"
She turned her back to him without looking, walking forward in silence. Lucas followed her, still trembling, glancing nervously at Rick.
Rick sighed."Fine, fine, I'll follow you. But I sensed that aura from outside the city… this is going to be one hell of a mission."