The Baika

"I won't leave here empty-handed," Arkhan said, and the air seemed to freeze around me. My heart suddenly hammered in my chest. I had no doubt who he was talking about: Ken.

His bounty could pique the interest of any commander... and Arkhan wouldn't spare anyone with a price on their head. Although my body screamed at me to stop, I gritted my teeth and gripped my sword with what little strength I had left. I wasn't going to let him take Ken, Zayen, or Rhok. Not while I could still hold a weapon.

Then Arkhan looked at me. Cold, calm.

And he said something that stole my breath: "Do you remember the deal we made?"

⚫ Flashback – Two days earlier

Right after my fight against Chakal, Cruz, and Mano Dura, when I could barely drag myself away from that hell, something—or rather, someone—had been following me from the shadows. I didn't know it then, but while I was escaping, they were getting trapped. A shower of red lights, laser pointers, and shiny helmets surrounded the ruins. Elite soldiers descended like armed specters.

And then, coming down from the sky like a divine sentence, Arkhan Draevos arrived.

"Not bad," he said, observing the beaten bodies. "Three of the N-13... with pathetic bounties."

"Lackey," he called to one of his soldiers. "How much are these parasites worth?"

The soldier checked his digital terminal.

"Chakal: human trafficking, illegal motorcycle smuggling, murder, armed robbery. Dead or alive: 300 Draks. Cruz and Mano Dura: same charges. 100 Draks each."

"In the name of the Elite who enforces justice to protect the weak, you are under arrest," the soldier declared.

Arkhan shook his head, barely interested. "Not worth arresting. Kill them. Burn the bodies. The one who matters... is the kid on the motorcycle."

"Wait!" Chakal screamed, desperate. "You're looking for Nilo, right?! I can hand him over to you! We know where he's going! Just... let us live."

Arkhan looked at him the way one steps on an insect. "An interesting gamble... But if you fail, you'll pay with your life."

⚔ Present

And now we were here. Face to face.

And Arkhan was looking at Chakal's dying body with that calm that hurts more than fury.

"I warned you what would happen if you failed," he said, approaching as his staff began to glow. "You failed."

Chakal's eyes opened, half-stunned by the dust. "Please! No! I can fix it! Just... don't kill me!"

I... I thought about it. I swear. I wondered if I should help him. After all, he tried to kill me. He sold me out. But... I'm not a killer.

The problem was, I couldn't even stand.

Arkhan rested his staff on Chakal's forehead. He said nothing more. A vibration cut through the air. I felt the blow in my stomach, even from a distance.

Chakal convulsed, just once.

And then... it was over.

Arkhan turned to his soldiers, who were already starting to get up awkwardly. "Load the body. Cuff Cruz and Mano Dura."

I don't know if he did it for justice, for order... or out of boredom. But there wasn't a drop of compassion in his voice.

He approached me. His cold eyes were two blades. "You were lucky today, Nilo. But we'll meet again."

And then, his eyes—if that man still had anything human in him—locked onto Ken.

"I'll be back for you, too. I'll finish what I started with your master."

And with that, the man who claimed to dispense justice, with a corpse at his feet and his hands stained with power, turned and walked away.

Armored bikes. Rusted trucks. Machine guns silently spinning.

Everything receded into the dust, like a storm that retreats after laying waste to everything.

I... couldn't take it anymore.

I put away my sword. I let myself fall to the ground next to Ken.

"First we will heal our wounds," he told me with that firm gaze, lit by rage. "Then we'll talk."

And then, as if the entire sky could hear him, he screamed with brutal force: "I, KEN VOLKOV, SWEAR I WILL KILL THE SPECTER!"

I stayed there watching him.

And despite everything...

I felt hope.

And fear.