Judgment Squad now crept through the moonlit alleys, the light casting long shadows against Riche’s marbled streets.

  The faint howl of the wind was the only company they had, trekking through the maze of tightly constructed buildings and structures. They continued through, eventually reaching the end of the Riche docks. As planned, a stretch of stone path extended outward past a clearing of trees.

  “That way,” Danzo whispered, pointing to the path. He led, they followed in stride.

  The stone path curved endlessly, eventually leading to a large mansion surrounded by luxurious fencing.

  “Sure doesn’t try to hide he’s got money, eh guys?” Knoxx said, twirling one of his daggers as he walked.

  “Well, when you take a solid portion of a district's income by underground means, not really anything to fear,” Geo muttered. “He’s got the APC’s backing too.”

  Danzo and Tsuki led the charge, with Azumi, Knoxx and Geo falling just shortly behind. Hatori still gimped forward slightly—clearly injured but adamant.

  They made their way to the gate, eyeing any easy way of passage.

  “Not a hole in sight,’ Azumi said, kneeling to the ground.

  “I guess we’ll have to go over?” Knoxx responded.

  Tsuki’s brain clicked. The darkness covered the ground around her. She summoned shadow hands—five of them, and assigned one to each member. Without a word, she dove into the abyss first, before signaling for the hands to grab their person. Each member was caught off guard, before being dragged into the darkness below.

  Knoxx entered the shadows, screaming as he fell.

  “WHAT THE HELL! NO GET AWAY!”

  His voice echoed across the shadows. Tsuki stood in front of him, arms crossed. His eyes peeked open moments after his scream.

  “You done?” asked Tsuki, chuckling and shaking her head.

  Knoxx’s face flushed as red as a tomato. “Let’s not tell the others about that, okay Tsuki?”

  “Too late,” called Azumi, raising herself. “You yell like a baby.”

  Knoxx drooped his head in embarrassment. Danzo made his way over to Tsuki, dusting off his coat.

  “You want to tell me what this is about?” he asked.

  Tsuki nodded. “My shadows bypass structures in the shadow plane. Meaning, as long as there's a shadow on the other side of that fence…”

  Danzo rubbed his chin, a smile poking at his lips. “...Then we can emerge. Tsuki, you’re a genius.”

  She shrugged slightly, accepting the praise expressionless, but inside, the compliment meant something.

  “Alright, let’s get moving,” Danzo said. “Is the distance about the same as the real world?”

  “Yes. It should be just a few feet this way.”

  She launched herself upward, emerging on the manor-side of the gate. She summoned the hands again to lift the others.

  They rose together, plopping down on the damp night grass. They now sat in the middle of the estate’s courtyard. Guards lined the front of the manor armed with spears and shields.

  Danzo pressed his back against the stone wall, peering past the corner of the estate. White-armored silhouettes paced near the front entrance—too many and too alert.

  “Too many at the door,” he muttered. “We’ll need another way in.”

  Tsuki followed his gaze, then shifted her focus upward. Moonlight spilled across the manicured lawn, broken by statues and trimmed hedges. The light pooled unevenly, leaving long stretches of shadow where the night clung tight.

  Perfect.

  “I can carry us in,” she said quietly. “Through the shadows.”

  Before Danzo could respond, Knoxx squinted toward the upper floor and lifted a finger.

  “Second floor,” he whispered. “Left window’s cracked open.”

  Geo turned to him, incredulous. “You actually saw that?”

  Knoxx shot him a look. “Yeah, genius. I’ve got eyes.”

  A low chuckle escaped Danzo despite the tension. “Good eye, Knoxx.”

  Hatori stepped forward without ceremony, already adjusting the wraps on his hands. His presence was calm—focused.

  “I’ll go first,” he said. “Silent entry.”

  Tsuki nodded once. “I’ll elevate you one by one.”

  She exhaled slowly, grounding herself. The shadows at her feet stirred, responding like living ink. One by one, the squad stepped into the darkness—and vanished.

  They reappeared beneath the second-story window, the transition so smooth it barely registered. A soft breeze fluttered the curtains above, carrying the faint scent of incense and polished wood.

  Tsuki raised a hand.

  Shadows stretched upward, solidifying just enough to support weight. Hatori rose first, lifted soundlessly as if the night itself had claimed him. He slipped through the window and disappeared inside.

  A heartbeat later—movement.

  A soft thud. A body lowered gently to the floor.

  One by one, the others followed. Geo. Knoxx. Danzo. Each placed inside with careful precision, shadows cradling them like unseen hands.

  Last was Tsuki.

  She ascended in silence, shadows coiling beneath her boots. As she crossed the threshold, her eyes caught the dim interior—corridors bathed in lanternlight, unaware of the breach.

  Her feet touched the floor and the shadows withdrew. The squad was in, and the hunt for Mushira had begun.

  Tsuki’s boots brushed slightly over the waxed wooden floor. The inside was decorated with a plethora of plants and overhanging chandeliers. Knoxx was about to mouth something, but Azumi hushed him.

  Silk-draped walls and ornate carpets lined every corridor, their richness suffocating in its excess. For a neutral district official, it was obscene.

  At the far end of the wing, the squad stopped. A door stood before them—thicker than the rest, reinforced with iron bands and edged in gold trim. It didn’t belong to a guest room, that was clear.

  Azumi placed a hand against it and pushed gently. There was no resistance. She glanced back with a silent question. One that there were no answers to, at least, not yet.

  Danzo gave her a nod, and Azumi eased the door open. Inside, the room swallowed them whole.

  The chamber was vast—its ceiling high, its space deliberately open. A velvet-draped bed sat near a towering window overlooking the city. Bookshelves climbed the walls, packed tight with leather-bound volumes and ledgers. Incense burned from a silver brazier, thick and cloying, masking something sharper beneath.

  At the center, a single man stood—short, portly and balding at the crown. His body stayed upright, hands clasped behind his back. His chin was lifted, accustomed to being obeyed.

  “Who’s there?” The man called. His voice carried no tremor or panic—merely irritation.

  Hatori and Geo slipped in last, slowly shutting the door behind them. The latch clicked softly.

  Geo turned the lock.

  Danzo stepped forward, boots stopping just short of the carpet's edge. “Mushira, I presume?”

  The man studied them—eyes flicking from face to face, lingering on weapons, masks, and posture. He took in the room like a man assessing odds, not danger.

  A long second passed, then he nodded once. “Yes,” he said calmly. “And you’re trespassing.”

  Azumi’s lips twitched.

  “Not even going to pretend?” Knoxx asked, a faint grin sprawled on his face.

  “You made it this far… I suppose it warrants some honesty.”

  With a lazy stroll, he walked over to a small lever mounted on the side of his bed.

  Danzo’s voice dropped a level. “Careful, we didn’t come for theatrics. In an instant, he raised his hands, and the members all jumped to the side, expecting a sort of trap.

  “Relax,” Mushira chuckled. “I’m not so petty to put a trap in my manor. Too much money and effort.”

  He pulled the lever. Inside the wall, a clank sound echoed through the room, before opening a large hidden stash of APC uniforms behind his bedframe. To the right were a collection of shipment ledgers, flags and medals. To the uniforms’ left, armory crates, and documents stamped from the council itself.

  “There it is. Your big reveal,” he said, almost calmly mocking the squadron.

  He turned to face them, his arms wide.

  “I’m The Lantern you’ve been chasing! I handle everything that flows through these docks—grain, medicine, weapons, soldiers—you name it! The APC lets me keep my cut.”

  Danzo gave a pitying scowl.

  “In return,” Mushira continued, “I give the council unlimited access to whatever they want. I own this damn district. Ability users are pathetic, letting men like us gain this much power!”

  He laughed, clearly unfazed by Judgments’ presence.

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  “Us?” Tsuki asked with a raised brow. “Who else were you meaning?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know, sweetheart!” Mushira responded. “I’ve more than learned that keeping your mouth shut in moments like this, always proves better.”

  “Why not take the stage?” Danzo questioned, his hands fiddled behind his back. “Show the public the truth. The real Riche. A district leashed by the council.”

  “Because I already control the narrative.”

  He took a step closer, that smug grin carved on his face.

  “You won’t find evidence. We burn what matters. I am the evidence, and I control what’s real! I report to the council, and tell them what they want to hear. That’s how I got this throne!”

  He leaned in, just enough to be disrespectful. Knoxx put his hand on a dagger, but Danzo swung his arm out to prevent any action.

  “...And don’t think you can kill me,” Mashira laughed. “Or take me in. Harm me, and you tarnish Memento’s image in a district we still have sway in. You’ll push Riche right into the council's arms.”

  He turned away.

  “Now, be good little rebels and get out.”

  The room was silent, and eerily so. Tsuki clenched her fists. Azumi and Knoxx both looked seconds from drawing their blades.

  But, Danzo smiled. Calmly.

  “...You’re right.”

  Tsuki’s eyes snapped to him. “What?”

  Danzo turned to the others, waving them to follow.

  “C’mon. He won.”

  “You serious?” Asked Knoxx, jaw dropped.

  “Let’s not cause a scene,” Danzo responded.

  Mushira let out a loud laugh, from the pits of his stomach. “Now you’re catching on. Shoo. Shoo, before I call my guards,” he muttered, returning to his irritated voice. His hands flicked outward like he was swatting a bug.

  With narrowed eyes, and clenched jaws, the squad exited from the same window they came. Tsuki’s shadows carried them silently across the lawn, and back under the gate. Her heart pounded with frustration, and the others felt the same.

  Once they had reached the roads back to downtown Riche, Hatori started the questioning.

  “Danzo… what the hell? We had him!” He asked with a sharp addition to his voice. Tsuki had never seen Hatori so worked up, and even then, he didn’t raise his voice.

  “He just admitted it all, and we let him go!” Azumi followed up.

  “You all doubt me too much,” he said chuckling. “You really think I’d walk into a snake-pit unprepared?”

  “What are you talking about?” Tsuki asked.

  Danzo pulled a rune from his back pocket, flaunting it in front of the others.

  “Cool, a rune. What’s it got to do with this?” Geo sighed, still his hands in tightly held fists.

  “An echo rune,” Danzo corrected. “Watch.”

  He tapped it lightly. The swirls carved on the stone began to glow, and a voice followed. Mushira’s.

  The squad froze. Azumi’s jaw dropped abnormally low.

  “Danzo… you genius bastard,” Knoxx said, pumping a fist in the air. “Maybe we’re not complete failures after all!”

  Danzo tucked the rune away deep in his pockets. “Maybe now we’ve got all we need,” he said, a smile still pulling at his cheeks.

  Tsuki gave a quiet and genuine laugh, wiping sweat from her forehead. The last hour or so had been stressful.

  The energy had changed drastically. What just a few minutes ago held edge and a blade's sharpness, now held relief and the normal banter.

  They vanished into the dark of the night, aiming for the inn for some good rest. The wind tagged along, carrying the whispered confession of a man who thought he was untouchable.

  They returned to the inn, quieter and tired from the night. Each said their goodnights, before heading into their rooms, resting well for the next morning.

  It came in the blink of an eye. Judgment met in Riche square, usually bustling with trade and laughter. Today, it was not.

  The crowd gathered at the sound of a bell toll—one reserved only for matters of civic importance. Word spread fast: Memento has something to say.

  Children sat on windowsills. Merchants left their stalls and eyes gathered on the raised stone platform at the center of the square—usually a place for celebratory purposes.

  But today, it’s judgment.

  Danzo stepped forward, cloak drifting slightly in the wind. Behind him, Tsuki, a bandaged Hatori, and the others in Judgment stood tall—calm and focused.

  A hush fell over the crowd. Only the faint crashing of the waves filled the air now.

  Danzo projected his voice like a seasoned orator. “People of Riche, you’ve been told you were free.”

  His voice echoed across the stone on nearby buildings.

  “That your district was untouched by war. That neutrality brought you peace.”

  He took another step forward. “But peace bought with silence, isn’t true peace. It is submission.”

  Murmurs rippled across the crowd. Hundreds of voices, stacked. Danzo’s voice rose even higher, nearly into a shout.

  “We’ve uncovered the truth. The so-called neutrality of this district has been a lie. Your representative—Mushira—has sold you out to the council!”

  Gasps followed. Some didn’t believe it. Some did, but were hesitant, and others had already picked their side.

  “How do you know?” A voice yelled from somewhere in the crowd. Many agreed, asking for hard proof. Danzo smiled, before pulling the stone out from his pocket.

  The seal was carved into the stone and pulsed faintly with the light glow of his Solena.

  “This rune recorded his confession. His own words will tell you all you need to hear.”

  He held it up, allowing all to see, before handing it to Tsuki. She stepped forward, her shadowy Solena flickering on her fingertips. The sound of the message amplified through faint vibrations against the stone stage.

  She tossed the rune in the air. It hovered with a glowing aura—speaking in the recognizable voice of Mushira.

  “I give the council unlimited access to whatever they want. I own this damn district. Ability users are pathetic, letting men like us gain this much power!”

  “You won’t find evidence. We burn what matters. I am the evidence, and I control what’s real! I report to the council, and tell them what they want to hear. That’s how I got this throne!”

  Harm me, and you tarnish Memento’s image in a district we still have sway in. You’ll push Riche right into the council's arms.”

  The rune dimmed, now falling to the ground with a thud. Silence filled the air, until the sudden gasps of civilians. They covered their mouths in disbelief. A few guards looked at eachother with nervous expressions—one even dropped his spear.

  Danzo’s voice rose again. “We are not here to rule Riche. We are not here to conquer.”

  He placed a hand over his heart, and his eyes darted among the civilians.

  “We are Memento, and we believe your voices matter. We believe the lies you were fed are chains, and we are here to break them.”

  He turned and nodded to Tsuki. She took the lead on stage.

  “We’ve seen firsthand what the APC does to districts like Jon and Galion. Riche was next. Your ports—your land and your people.”

  Geo stepped forward. “Now you have a choice. Let the liar Mushira speak for you… or speak for yourselves.”

  More murmurs followed. Then…

  A woman in the crowd—a fruit vendor with worn hands—shouted.

  “He took my son! He said he’d give him a job… I haven’t seen my boy since!”

  Then another voice—

  “They took half my grain shipments from the season. Called ‘em taxes! I got two Aldenias for a weeks worth of work!”

  A merchant’s voice rose. “Mushira said it was a fair trade! That the Council would protect us!”

  Dozens of voices overlapped into a combined chaos. Some angry—some crying and filled with horror.

  “Think we got through to them?” asked Azumi.

  “Not yet,” Danzo responded, his eyes still scanning the crowd.

  A man yelled with a voice that sliced through the air. “We can’t stay neutral when we’ve been used! Been unintentionally supporting those tyrants in Central!”

  Under all the ruckus, a single man escapes the crowd. He wore a clean tunic with sharp eyes, fixated on Judgment Squad. He held the presence of someone who commands attention.

  The murmurs quieted down as they recognized him. He spoke with a firm but respectful tone, stopping just underneath the stone platform.

  “Memento, us people of Riche thank you for showing us the truth. For tearing a veil from our eyes.”

  Danzo gave an acknowledging nod—filled with hope.

  “I am Gheon,” the man continued. “The people look to me for guidance… have for some time now. Even under Mushira’s thumb, I tried to soften the weight of his shadow.”

  His voice grew heavier.

  “We suspected something. Many of us did… but suspicion isn’t strength. And with Mushira’s power, and the backing of the Council… there was only so much we could say. Let alone do.”

  “Our time is now, Gheon,” Danzo’s voice boomed. “Memento doesn’t just fight for our cause—we fight for every district. Every voice in Alden.”

  Gheon looked downwards, before glancing back up. His eyes were filled with sincerity.

  “We appreciate that. We truly do,” Gheon breathed, stiffening his posture slightly. “However… the people of Riche… and I, hope to remain neutral. Truly neutral in this war. Not under Mushira, or puppets against or knowledge and will. Not part of the war.”

  The cheer from every member of Judgment drained at his words.

  “If we turn now, the APC will come down on us in full force. Us civilians of Riche aren’t built for war… we’re an artery to all of Alden through the trade network.”

  Tsuki stepped forward, her voice rising in frustration. “Don’t you understand? They’ll never let you be neutral! They’ll twist that neutrality into submission… just like they did before!”

  “Maybe so,” Gheon admitted, trying to ease the tension. “Even then, it would only lead to bloodshed in our streets. In our homes.”

  He turned to Tsuki alone, eyes meeting hers. “I admire your fire. Your cause is… noble. But our people have lived in peace for so long, because we’ve been careful. We are a district of fishermen, not warriors. Tradesman, not archers.”

  Geo shook his head and muttered under his breath. “That’s what they want you to believe…”

  Azumi’s fists clenched. Knoxx grabbed her shoulder trying to ease her anger, but she swatted it away.

  Gheon rubbed his chin. “I’ll speak with our tradesmen in the docks. See if we can divert more shipments into Memento territories. Quietly.”

  Danzo stepped down from the platform slowly. His voice was calm when he spoke again, but it carried the weight of disappointment.

  “If that’s what you truly want,” he said, eyes sweeping the crowd, “we won’t force your hand. We don’t rule by fear.”

  He turned back toward the square, letting the silence stretch before continuing.

  “Just keep your eyes open,” Danzo warned. “Watch the tides beyond these shores. Because when the waves crash… neutrality may not be enough to keep you afloat.”

  No one cheered. Nor did anyone boo.

  The silence that followed was heavier than either—a pressure that settled deep in the chest.

  Judgment Squad left the stage together. Their boots echoed against the stone, each step slow and deliberate. A procession of weary resolve.

  As they vanished into the streets, a small child broke from the thinning crowd and ran after them. She stopped in front of Tsuki, clutching a folded paper flower in both hands.

  “For showing us the truth,” the child said.

  Tsuki hesitated, then knelt and accepted it. A faint smile touched her lips as she closed her fingers around the paper petals—a fragile glimmer of hope in a city unsure of its future.

  Riche faded behind them as they walked. The noise of the district—vendors shouting, gulls crying overhead, waves crashing against the docks—felt distant now, muffled by the weight of the moment. Lanterns flickered to life along the quiet alleys, casting long shadows across the cobblestone road.

  For a time, no one spoke.

  Then Knoxx broke the silence with a sharp scoff. “What a waste of time,” he muttered. “We expose the truth, risk our necks in those damn sewers, and they still want to sit on the fence.”

  He shook his head. “People never understand. Not until it’s too late.”

  Tsuki didn’t raise her voice when she answered. “Just because they don’t right now,” she said, “doesn’t mean they won’t in the future.”

  Knoxx glanced at her, irritation flashing across his face—but the edge dulled as her words sank in.

  “Well spoken,” Danzo said, nodding. He walked with his hands folded behind his back, posture calm as ever. “We didn’t earn their loyalty today. But we planted a seed.”

  He paused. “Seeds grow. Sometimes slowly.”

  The group fell quiet again as a breeze rolled through the streets.

  Hatori moved beside them in his usual silence, eyes lingering on a merchant closing his stall. Geo walked at his side, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

  “…What now?” Geo asked.

  Danzo didn’t hesitate. “Riche remains neutral. We return to Persetta, report what we’ve found, and wait for our next orders.”

  After a moment, he added, “Maro will want to hear about Mushira—and Gheon.”

  Knoxx let out a long sigh. “Back to the planning table. No action or payback.”

  Azumi shot him a look. “Didn’t you almost get strangled by chains twice?” she asked dryly. “You’ve had enough action for today.”

  Knoxx grinned despite himself. “Doesn’t count if I didn’t win.”

  A tired, bittersweet chuckle passed through the group. The tension eased—just a little.

  Tsuki slowed her steps and glanced back toward the square behind them. The crowd was gone now, the space left empty.

  Her fingers tightened around the paper flower.

  “They may not fight beside us now,” she said quietly. “But when the war reaches their doorstep… they’ll remember who warned them.”

  “They always do,” Danzo replied.

  Judgment Squad and Danzo walked on, bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. Their silhouettes stretched long across the cobblestone—six warriors carrying the weight of the truth.