The forge lights dimmed.
Even the spiritflies tucked themselves into the shadows, as if they could sense who had just walked in.
Kaien Voss.
He wasn't dressed in armor. No glowing aura rings. No grand entrance. Just a sleeveless coat, pale skin marked with spiral-white tattoos, and eyes that looked like they'd been carved from dead stars.
Tali stepped beside Braken, whispering:
"He didn't come through the front."
Braken adjusted the strap of his backpack — leather-stitched, charred at the seams, patched with mana-proof threads. Inside it was his weapon, his soul, his answer to the world:
The Draco.
Handcrafted. Short-barreled. Fused with four copper heat coils, a side-fed aether capsule, and runes that only lit when his blood pressure spiked. He didn't carry it on his hip. He earned it every time he pulled it from the bag.
Braken unbuckled the flap, slow.
Kaien finally spoke.
"I heard you call yourself a king."
Braken shrugged.
"What's it to you phony."
Kaien took one step forward, like a shadow deciding to breathe.
"King of what?"
Braken zipped open the side of his bag. Pulled the Draco free.
"Ashmark. This city. The kids bleeding in the alley. Soon to be the world. The people I'll make sure you bow to me once all set and done and make you kiss my boot lil bitch ."
The gun's veins lit orange-red. Slow pulse. Just enough.
Kaien tilted his head, voice hollow as gravel in a tomb.
"I'm not here for your jokes ."
"What jokes I'm deadass?" Braken asked, stepping onto the forge's landing smirking .
Kaien's eyes didn't blink.
"Lets if you're worth it."
They walked under silence.
The sky stretched wide — stars like faded ink, hills dusted in frost, silence so deep it made Jett hold his breath.
Crett had joined them. So had Mira. Even Rask trailed behind, soul-knife humming like it knew a moment mattered.
They stopped at an old windmill ruin, surrounded by flat dirt and broken fences. Long enough from the city that no one would interfere.
Braken dropped his pack in the grass. Kneeling, he slid the Draco onto his wrist rig — it clicked into place like a second spine. He rolled his shoulders. Eyes never leaving Kaien.
"You sure about this?"
Kaien didn't answer. He just took off his coat and folded it neatly onto a rock.
No armor. No cloak. No visible rings.
Just that pressure — the kind you feel when a cave goes quiet before something crawls out of it.
Braken didn't yell.
He didn't charge.
He fired.
Boom.
A red-hot mana round snapped from his Draco and tore a trench through the earth beside Kaien's foot — on purpose.
Kaien's eyes narrowed. Then he moved.
Not fast.
Not flashy.
But clean. Fluid. Like his body skipped everything in-between.
Braken pivoted, fired again — this time aiming for the shoulder. But Kaien spun around it, closing distance.
Braken's Fighting Style:
Trick shots.
Feints.
Blood-heat-guided bursts.
He reloads not with clips — but with resonant pumps, pulling extra mana from his own body.
He ducked, spun, knee to dirt, fired up at Kaien's gut.
Miss. No — Kaien twisted around the bullet like it was water.
Then struck.
Not with fists — but fingers.
A pressure point jab straight to the side of Braken's neck. Braken staggered, choked. Fired a blind round from the hip.
Kaien sidestepped it, no sound, no tension. Just void.
Braken grit his teeth, blood in his mouth.
"You fight like a coward weak."
Kaien answered:
"You fight like a zombie just recklessness no thoughts ."
Braken slammed a new vial into the Draco's chamber. The coils hissed and glowed brighter. Orange, then white.
Overheat mode. One shot could melt a demon drone.
"Let's test that," Braken whispered.
He fired at the ground — kicked up smoke — vanished in it.
Kaien squinted.
Then ducked just in time.
Braken had leapt through the air from behind, flipping midair, firing downward, three shots in tight spread.
Kaien raised his forearm — some kind of ancient void-shell rune glimmered along his skin.
Two bullets hit and melted in midair.
The third grazed his jaw.
He smiled.
"Finally."
Now they were close.
No tricks.
Braken tried to grab — Kaien twisted.
Kaien went for the ribs — Braken elbowed his wrist, then slammed the butt of the Draco into Kaien's gut.
Both gasping.
Both bleeding.
Kaien tried a final pressure strike to the temple.
Braken pressed his last bullet to Kaien's throat.
Silence.
The windmill groaned in the wind.
They stood — frozen.
Then both stepped back at the same time.
No winner.
No pride.
Just sweat. Blood. Fireflies returning.
Kaien wiped his jaw with his thumb.
"You're not strong."
Braken raised a brow.
"… kill yourself"
Kaien looked at the stars, not the man.
"You're stubborn. That's harder to kill."
Braken smiled, barely.
"So you will join my gang right ?"
Kaien answered " what a gang do you mean guild plus it's not even a official one".
Braken said "so"
But he walked toward Ashmark with them.
That was enough.
Back in the forge, crett sat on the bench next to Jett.
He nodded toward Braken.
"He'll die for any of us."
Jett snorted. "He just almost died."
Rask also said "let's see how far we go with this new team our last guild was wiped out"says rask with serious tone and expression .
"Still counts."
Tali admires braken and the corner braken ask kaien "what's your goal" kaien says "my goal huh" all he do is smirk braken says "you creepy lil fuck" both bruised but both standing together "ashmark the beginning of something special says" vye she smiles Mira stands mysterious and the corner arms crossed silent but deadly.