Chapter 1: The Lone Wolf
High atop the towering walls of Himonas, a solitary warrior wielded her sword against the oncoming tide of enemies. Behind her, the fortress blazed, casting an ominous glow over the battlefield. The bodies of fallen knights lay piled like mountains, victims of the enemy’s relentless assault.
Having vanquished her foes, the lone wolf turned her gaze from the hellish scene to the horizon. Her lips moved, barely a whisper escaping.
“Zeke Murray…”
With a sorrowful look in her eyes, the Northern Wolf murmured something inaudible before drawing her blade across her own throat. Her body plummeted from the wall, disappearing into the icy abyss below.
From a distance, a man watched, reaching out as if to grasp the impossible. He knew he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t change the past, for he wasn’t truly there. This was a dream—a vivid, haunting dream of his own making.
“Haah…”
The man awoke, drenched in sweat, his muscular body marked with scars of various sizes. His face, too, bore the evidence of past battles, with scars and burn marks etched into his skin. His dark eyes, deep and unfathomable, darted around the room, unfocused.
He reached for a bottle of liquor beside him, drinking it as if it were water, hoping the alcohol would banish the nightmare. Yet, the battlefield lingered in his mind, refusing to let go.
“Damn it…”
For years, the war he had never fought in haunted his dreams. Perhaps if he had been there, he wouldn’t be tormented by these nightmares. But at the time, he had been on another mission, away from Himonas.
By the time he heard of the fortress’s fall and the annihilation of the Himonas knights by the Empire’s forces, weeks had passed. The Northern Wolf he had followed had taken her own life, leaping from the walls.
The stories he heard from all sides embedded themselves in his mind, creating false memories that tormented him nightly. Each night, he awoke screaming, helpless as his comrades perished in his dreams.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept peacefully. Only by drinking himself into unconsciousness could he escape the nightmares.
He finished the bottle, tossing it aside. It rolled to a stop by the door just as a soft knock sounded, and the door opened.
“Zeke Murray.”
A woman with wavy red hair and a velvet dress that accentuated her figure called his name. Zeke looked up at her.
“Kay.”
Taking his acknowledgment as permission, she stepped into the room. Zeke pulled a dagger from beneath his pillow, prompting the syndicate’s hitmen to step forward protectively.
“Everyone, leave us,” Kay commanded. As a syndicate leader, her word was law, and the hitmen reluctantly retreated, though they kept a wary eye on Zeke.
Kay sighed, shaking her head at the sight of Zeke still clutching the dagger. She dragged a chair over, sitting across from him with her legs crossed.
“Do you really need to hold onto that?”
Zeke didn’t respond, his grip on the dagger unwavering. Kay, accustomed to his wariness, continued.
“If it makes you feel better, fine. But after all the vows we’ve exchanged, do you still need to be so cautious?”
Zeke and Kay had sealed their partnership with a binding oath, marking their souls. Kay’s syndicate smuggled soma from the south to the central continent, but their sea routes had been blocked by the Dortha navy. To find a new path, Kay sought out Zeke, a renowned problem-solver.
Zeke had successfully opened a land route through the desert, allowing the syndicate to resume their operations. Impressed by his skills, Kay wanted him as her confidant, but Zeke refused to join any organization. Instead, he proposed an equal partnership: he would take on her tasks in exchange for information from the syndicate’s vast network.
Kay agreed, even taking the first step to earn his trust by making the oath. It was a powerful deterrent against betrayal, as breaking it would erase the mark on their wrists.
Despite their years-long partnership, Zeke remained guarded, never fully opening up to Kay.
“Why are you here in person? You could have sent someone if it was about a job,” Zeke said flatly.
Kay clicked her tongue, pulling a note from her pocket and handing it to him. Zeke read it carefully, recognizing the syndicate’s code.
“The mad emperor is searching for something in the Ice Mountains,” he said.
Kay nodded. “That’s the information you wanted. You asked me to find out where the mad emperor was and what he was up to.”
Zeke had requested information on Nero, the infamous emperor of the Rom Empire. Avoiding the empire’s intelligence agency was no small feat, but the syndicate’s network was extensive, especially since the Rom Empire was a major consumer of soma.
Zeke placed the dagger on his knee, lighting a cigarette and using the flame to burn the note. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, rising from his seat.
His body, scarred and muscular, was like that of a sleek, powerful panther. He dressed quickly, grabbing his sword and standing before Kay.
“There’s more about what he’s looking for in the Ice Mountains, right? Hand it over,” he demanded.
Kay sighed, exasperated. “Do you think information on the emperor is easy to come by? Getting this was risky enough.”
Zeke’s dark eyes bore into hers, and she eventually looked away, pulling another note from her pocket.
“It’s not confirmed yet, so give it some time…”
Zeke didn’t wait for her to finish. He sheathed his sword and headed for the door. Pausing, he turned back to Kay.
“Thanks, Kay.”
With that, he left, leaving Kay to watch him go with a mix of frustration and resignation.
“Damn it, I’m crazy. That damn fool,” she muttered, realizing this might be the last time she saw him. Despite the risks, she had given him the information, knowing he would head straight for danger.
The syndicate’s hitmen approached her. “Boss, are you just going to let him go?”
Though they were her subordinates, they were also there to keep an eye on her for the syndicate’s leader. The leader and other executives wanted to use Zeke’s skills but feared him, knowing he had taken down the largest cartel in the southern continent.
Kay lit a cigarette with a flick of her fingers, creating a small flame.
She exhaled a plume of smoke and addressed the hitmen.
“What if you don’t leave him alone? Are you planning to take out Zeke Murray yourself?”
At Kay’s words, the hitmen flinched. They knew they were no match for Zeke Murray, the legendary hitman of the McCain Cartel.
Kay took a deep drag from her cigarette, then flicked the still-long butt to the floor and stood up.
“Even if we don’t touch him, he’ll destroy himself. He’ll charge right into the Emperor’s hunting dogs.”
With a bitter expression, she continued, “Go tell the other bosses. There’s no need to worry about Zeke Murray anymore.”
With that, she left the room where Zeke had been staying. Only discarded cigarette butts and empty liquor bottles remained.
Thud!
The informant’s face was a bloody mess from Zeke’s punch. He trembled, blood dripping from his mouth.
Zeke grabbed the informant’s shoulder and said, “Does that jog your memory?”
The informant quickly nodded in response.
Zeke pulled up a chair and sat in front of him, gesturing for him to speak.
The informant, still shaking, began to talk. “I-it’s not exactly clear…”
“Doesn’t matter,” Zeke cut him off firmly.
Spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth, the informant slowly started to share what he knew. “Th-they’ve set up camp at Himonas Castle… I saw them leading people up the Ice Mountains.”
Zeke took out two cigarettes, lighting one for himself and then the other, which he handed to the informant.
The informant took a drag, coughing at the harshness of the smoke, but it seemed to calm him. He continued more steadily, “They had a lot of equipment with them… looked like they were planning to excavate something.”
Zeke exhaled a stream of smoke and nodded. “An excavation, huh.”
Having delved into the mad Emperor’s affairs for a long time, Zeke knew well of his obsession with ancient relics. There was a chance that the Ice Mountains held one of the relics the Emperor desired.
Zeke looked at the informant and asked, “What do they think is buried there?”
The informant shook his head. “I-I don’t know that much…”
Zeke studied the informant’s eyes for a moment, then dropped his cigarette butt and walked out.
The informant let out a sigh of relief once Zeke was gone. “Damn bastard… I’ll send my guys to take your head…”
Muttering to himself, the informant suddenly clutched his throat and collapsed. Struggling to breathe, he foamed at the mouth before finally going still.
In his lifeless hand was the cigarette Zeke had given him. A faint green smoke continued to waft from its glowing tip.