As Myth left the bar, the cool night air hit his face, cutting through the lingering taste of the Blue Frost. He pulled out the card, flipped it once between his fingers, then dialed the number.
The call connected after just one ring. A filtered voice answered—mechanical, almost deliberately distorted.
"Who gave you this number?"
"The bartender at Crosslight," Myth replied, keeping his tone casual but firm.
A pause. Then:
"State your business."
"I want information about the Ashfall portal incident. Everything you have."
Another pause—longer this time. The line crackled faintly.
"Meet me in one hour. East End, Market Road, Shop 22. Come alone. No weapons. 1000 creds."
The call ended before Myth could respond.
He stared at the screen for a second, the quiet street buzzing with the sound of neon and distant traffic.
"Shop 22 it is," he muttered, slipping the chip back into his pocket. He patted his side—his gun was still holstered.
East End was a poor and populated area of Ashfall. Its Market Road was the main attraction.
The road was wide and vehicles weren't allowed. It was filled with pedestrians. Narrow alleyways connected the road to parallel streets. Vagrants and beggars slept in these alleys.
Myth drove his car to a parallel road near Shop 22.
He transferred most of his money from the bank to chips, making sure to prepare one chip of 1000 creds and another of 100.
Pulling the lever, he lowered the back of the driver's seat.
Then Myth started a live video on a social media platform and kept his mobile inside the car. Setting it on the dashboard.
Walking down the crowded street, Myth looked for a beggar to help with his plan.
He didn't trust Rik, and he wasn't much on the strength side either.
Walking deeper into the alley, he found a boy—around 13 years old. Easy to manipulate. Easier to handle if things went south.
"Hey kid, want some money? 100 creds?"
The boy looked at Myth with wary eyes, shrinking back a little. Life on the streets had taught him that nothing came free—and this felt dangerous. But he was hungry. And despite the fear clawing at his gut, the promise of 100 creds was hard to ignore.
"A-aa… sir… wha-what do I have to do?" the boy asked, his voice thin and uncertain.
Myth smiled gently, his tone calm and reassuring.
"It's simple. I need you to collect a file for me. I'm a fugitive Seeker—I can't show my face in public, so I need someone I can trust. Just pick up the item and keep it in the car. That's it."
He paused before adding, "If you're not up for it, that's fine. There are plenty of others around."
But then Myth's voice shifted—cool, sharp, and dangerous.
"However… if you try to steal my money and run, I have many ways to find you. And if I do… well, I also have many ways to make sure you regret it."
The boy's breath hitched. He hesitated, then slowly nodded.
"O-okay. I'll do it…"
"What's your name?" Myth asked, softening again.
"It's Taro," the kid replied.
Myth gave a nod, crouching slightly so they were eye to eye. He laid out the details carefully—where to go, what to say, how to deliver the creds, and who to meet. Taro listened intently, nodding at every instruction. He did gave him rik's number
Once everything was clear, Myth handed him the both the chips and watched him run off into the shadows of the market road.
He checked his watch. He was running late.
Then Myth searched the East End for a hotel he had found earlier online.
Arriving at the run-down inn, he walked in. The place was made of old wood. The reception desk was chipped. The waiting area seats were dusty.
"I need a room for the night," Myth said.
"That'll be 20 creds," the man replied
sliding over a machine for chip payments.
Myth transferred the creds.
"Name, sir?"
"James Patrick," Myth answered as the creds transferred.
"Thank you. Here are your keys. 5th floor, room number is written on the back."
Myth nodded and headed toward the elevator, noting the camera locations.
Only two—one at the entrance and one covering the elevator corridor.
He pressed buttons for both the 5th and 1st floors.
Getting off on the 1st floor
Myth waited in the dim stairwell that connected the lobby to the second floor. Shadows clung to the corners, and the flickering bulb above cast jittery silhouettes on the wall.
He stood perfectly still—back pressed to the wall, every breath quiet and measured.
He'd picked this place for a reason. No cameras. Close to the ground. Easy to bolt if things went south.
One hour passed.
Nothing.
The second hour ticked in, slower than the first. Just as he began to consider slipping out through the fire exit, he heard it—the soft click of a door opening.
He didn't move.
A man stepped halfway out into the hallway, balancing a tray of half-eaten food. He bent to place it on the floor.
Now.
Myth moved.
Not a run. Not even a rush. Just a casual walk forward—relaxed, like he belonged. His right hand, hidden by his jacket, gripped the gun loosely but ready.
The man straightened and looked up—startled to see someone so close.
Their eyes locked.
"Good night," Myth said smoothly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a casual smile.
The man blinked. "Uh—yeah. Night," he mumbled.
Myth walked past, then stopped suddenly—like he'd forgotten something important. He turned back, voice light but firm.
"Hey, could I borrow your phone? Just need to make a quick call."
The man hesitated. His eyes dropped, catching the outline of the weapon just barely visible under Myth's jacket. He froze.
Myth stepped in closer, just enough for the tension to settle.
"The weather in Ashfall's been chilly, hasn't it?" Myth said lightly—too lightly.
The man nodded slowly, lips dry.
"I'll make you a deal," Myth continued. "500 creds. Let me use your room and your phone until morning."
Still frozen, the man nodded.
"Great."
Myth's smile never left his face, but his voice turned to ice.
"Go inside. Sit in the corner, face the wall. Don't move. Don't talk. You walk out richer tomorrow—unless you do something stupid."
He tossed the cred chip onto the bed without looking, then gestured toward the open door with his gun.
The man walked in, stiff as a board. Myth followed, closing the door silently behind them.
For the first time all night, Myth allowed himself to breathe.
Now he had a hiding spot.