The Tribunal square erupted in voices on a day that smelled of rain and gunpowder. Makeshift banners rose; placards supporting Mael competed for space with banners demanding judgment and decorum. The Tribunal building, a monument of stone and bronze, had pillars stamped with official seals; the crowd pressed like a swarm under the promise of seeing a god fall — or be saved.
On the dais, the chief justice opened the session. There was a bench for Renna, members of the Hammer of Iron, and for Kaito — who arrived with his arm still aching. The HUD projected the public mission discreetly at the corner of his vision:
PUBLIC_OP: TRIBUNAL_SESSION -> EXPOSE_MAEL
OBJECTIVE: PRESENT_DOCUMENTS (GARRIS / MESSENGER) / DEFEND_TRIBUNAL_AUTHORITY
RISK: VELARN_PROPAGANDA / PUBLIC_RIOT / BARAN_INTERVENTION
RECOMMEND: SECURE_PERIMETER / AMBER_MICRO_DEPLOY / MEDITATE_ON_DEFENSE
Mael attended with the composure of someone born in warm parlors. His allies were silk-faced: merchants and a few nobles. Velarn had quietly sent public letters — and paid for pamphlets: sown doubts, forged memories in alleys claiming the Tribunal manipulated the people. It was a narrative war. Kaito knew paper truth might suffice — but in politics, blood carries volume.
When Kaito rose to present the dossier, the severe stone hall shifted. A group of provocateurs in the gallery hurled a liquid — not water: a smoke-poison designed to corrode portable Amber. The spray hissed and small groups in the crowd began to cough, some fell. The attack was precise: it aimed to disorganize the session.
Kaito watched the first man go mad — white eyes, bulging veins — and knew the pattern: forged-memory toxin mixed with irritant. It was not only to derail the session; it was to open a route to chaos in the streets. Lyra ordered rapid suppression and Mira activated salt circles at the doors to mitigate effects. Kaito stood and performed the most visible defense he had: speak, unveil the papers, call the names loud — each sentence hammered the chamber. Politics required muscle and words.
But the core was not only rhetoric. Outside, improvised armored wagons — mercenary guild machines hired by shadowy interests — advanced to pressure the streets. Velarn was playing dirty and someone paid for it. The session split with a decision: provisionally detain Mael for technical investigation (the majority’s request) — and when the judge struck the gavel, a distant clarion rose like thunder.
The square became an urban battlefield. Shock troops of paid mercenaries burst through exits; the crowd split. Kaito had no choice: law needed to be protected with steel.
The first impact was orchestrated and physical. A contingent in light armor used staves that issued electric shocks — trying to paralyze defenders and clear a path for looters. Kaito took position with Lyra and Nara, setting rhythm to protect civilians.
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First wave — containment line
Lyra formed a shield corridor; each clash hammered enemies back. The sound was heavy: metal on metal, vibration through bone. Kaito entered sequences using Edge-Fist and Chain of Bones: two cuts, a shove, and the placement of a micro-Amber on a lightpost supplying power to the enemy staves. The Amber detonated in runes that fried the circuits — the staves failed. A man with an antenna fell, his body thrown into a stall — the impact crushed fruit; wooden shards wounded bystanders.
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Second wave — corridor fighting
Mercenaries tried to take the Tribunal entrance via Wall Street — a narrow lane of shops. The tight space forced hand-to-hand combat. Kaito and Nara alternated: she used Fiber-Shadow (arrows that trap ankles), he used Spiral Sever to open gaps. The fighting was slow; every blow hurt: blades sank and dragged through fabric; warm blood spattered the stones. A soldier hurled a shield into Kaito’s shoulder; the shock hit like thunder. He held through the pain and turned the blow into a joint lock that flung the man into the marketplace.
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Third wave — using the environment
The market became an ally: Kaito pulled ropes that held tables, let barrels roll over enemy boots. An oil leak from a lamp ignited as blades scraped — a fire began to lick the stalls. Heat multiplied tension; the crowd screamed. Mira ran short circles to stem false-memory effects on the most affected — salt smoke, repetitive naming (anchors), and aloud repetition of names to block the wash.
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Fourth wave — Baran’s intervention?
At the peak of the conflict something tore the air: a figure ran across roofs, touched two people in the crowd and a wave propagated. The sound was like a distant punch. Security cams saw the silhouette: black gloves flashing. The damage began to bounce between marked civilians — cuts, fainting — and the mood screamed panic. Kaito recognized the pattern: touch and damage redistribution. It was not the first time the world had seen that horror.
But Baran did not assault the defenses; he cleaved a row of mercenaries like wind through steel. His punches carried the weight of hammers — each hit shattered shields and flung men. In minutes, he cleared a corridor — not to strike the Tribunal — but to carry away a hooded man who stumbled out from the chaos: the same messenger? Another asset? Baran spoke no words; his action was objective: he cut through, took, and vanished into the streets. The square was left with a trail of bodies and a forbidden feeling that the monster could also be savior.
The HUD that night updated:
EVENT: TRIBUNAL_DEFENSE -> WIN (SESSION_SAVED)
COST: CIVILIANS_INJURED_HIGH / INFRASTRUCTURE_DAMAGE = MAJOR
ALERT: BARAN_SIGHTED -> ACTION: UNKNOWN (INTERVENTION)
KAITO_STATE: HP 28% | LEFT_ARM_WOUNDED | STAMINA 12%
RECOMMEND: MEDICAL_FIRST / SECURE_MARKED / PUBLIC_REASSURANCE
When the dust settled, Kaito and Nara found each other among broken chairs and makeshift tents. Nara wiped blood from a cut on his lip. They leaned together — a silence that said, for now, they survived. But Baran’s shadow hung. Who had hired the Black Fists? How many more cities would pay for someone to rewrite where pain would fall?
Retaliation and the Burned Portrait
The fallout from the public session was a political storm. Velarn spread the message: “Tribunal inept” and “internal plagues” — public tone shifted toward fear. Mael used communications to seed doubt; at the same time the Council approved emergency measures limiting liberties and enabling home searches. Some called it necessary — others, a soft coup.
Kaito, exhausted, was forced into choices he hated. There was evidence against Mael, but a new specter loomed: Baran might be contracting again for whoever had money and panic. The city needed layered defenses: ramp up Antigens, deploy mark-detectors, and field Net Hands ready.
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As politics churned, practical response arrived: night patrols were reorganized. The HUD prioritized:
STRATEGIC_PHASE: DEFENSIVE_RAMP_UP
PRIORITIES: 1) MEDICAL_SUPPLY_CHAIN 2) NET_HAND_DEPLOY 3) PUBLIC_TRUST_CAMPAIGN
RISK: BARAN_REHIRE_HIGH / VELARN_ESCALATION = LIKELY
But this arc must note the battle that turned the night — the Battle of the South Gates — a confrontation remembered for months.
The South Gate was narrow, with low walls and stone steps dropping to fishermen’s docks. Mercenaries contracted by a consortium moved at dawn to destroy Antigen stores — the goal: make the city vulnerable to Baran. Kaito took command of the defense.
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Preparing the ground
Kaito ordered controlled runic mines: traps that released salt smoke to neutralize Plague dust. Lio wired ignition codes and Mira readied field tents. Lyra built wooden barricades weighted with stone to force chokepoints.
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First wave — the forge collision
Mercenaries brought torches and saw machines with spinning blades. The first clash was violent: blades tearing wood, iron heating until it smelled of scorch. Kaito applied Net Hands — striking with the right while implanting micro-Ambers with the left. The Ambers detonated in runic sparks and crippled the saw motors. Metal burning sounded like flesh on a grill.
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Second wave — shock waves and weight
A commander tried to break the line with a huge hammer. Kaito met the hammer with a counter-impulse: an Edge-Fist twist that used the hammer’s momentum against the ground. The impact cracked a barrel and the shock shuddered the fighters’ boots. The blow was not only seen — it was felt in the gut.
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Third wave — Baran’s presence?
At the fight’s height a figure scaled the wall — not Baran himself, but an envoy in similar black gloves; he crossed the parapet. He touched a fleeing mercenary — the man collapsed and, simultaneously, a woman on the docks began bleeding internally. Kaito recognized the correlation and shouted: “Isolate the marked! Remove civilians!”
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Climax — combined technique
Kaito’s final tactic: Lyra would pin the tip with Route of Bones; Nara would rain fibers to block exits; Kaito would flank to plant synchronized micro-Ambers on three engines, paralyzing the mercenaries long enough for the Hammer to charge with runed spears. The synchronized detonation produced a shock wave that hurled fighters and froze the machines. The crack was felt in windows far away — the heat made men scream.
The victory was costly. The Antigen depot took damage but the main supply line held. The price: Lio lost hearing in one ear; a young watcher died in a barrel blast; Kaito saw the body of a boy, marked by a touch, that rescuers could not revive — the image hammered his soul. The battle proved Baran didn’t have to be on-site to devastate: his technique could act through proxies’ hands.
HUD logged the balance:
BATTLE_RESULT: SOUTH_GATE_DEFENSE -> SUCCESS (STORAGE PROTECTED)
COST: CASUALTIES = 4 DEAD / 18 INJURED | INFRASTRUCTURE_DAMAGE = MEDIUM
ALERT: BARAN_ASSOCIATE_SIGHTED -> REPEAT_RISK = HIGH
KAITO_STATE: HP 20% | STAMINA 8% | CORE_FRAGMENTATION = CRITICAL
At nightfall Kaito knelt at the dock. He held the dead boy’s hand and whispered a name he could not remember. Nara stood close, pressing her breath into his face. “We will do whatever it takes,” she said, voice breaking. He nodded, not with easy hope but with iron resolve: the enemy contracted monsters; they had people. For now, that still mattered.
Siege and the Broken Contract
The city breathed like a feverish body. The Tribunal called an extraordinary session: Mael would be formally charged; Renna courted independent merchant houses to counter Velarn. But movement below the table continued: frozen transfers slowed cash, but the payer’s power still echoed.
While the city prepared a political endgame, Kaito knew the real danger: a fresh contract for Baran could activate, and the Black Fists might rewrite where pain fell again. As the session began, messengers arrived with word: a foreign ship had anchored offshore — men with hatred and payment aboard.
The defense ran on two fronts: politically expose Mael and militarily prevent Baran’s arrival or the payer’s return. Kaito coordinated the latter.
The quay was turned into a ritual minefield: Amber rings surrounded the dock, smoke traps and anchoring rites stood ready to isolate the ship. Hammer men set guide-lines. Kaito, despite his broken body, led the vanguard.
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Approach and initial shocks
Two boats made for the pier cloaked in mist. Cannons fired and a rope jolted — boats rocked and water splashed. Kaito fell to his knees to steady a sailor. The slap of impact in the water made wood complain — a man on the ship screamed: “The shadow — the gloves.” Kaito knew then: someone aboard had been touched by Baran.
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Combat on deck
Climbing to the deck, Kaito faced men with old instruments: harpoons, chains, blades. The deck became a resonant wooden battlefield. Kaito flowed Spiral Sever and Edge-Fist like combat music, opening space for Hammer squads. Wood scraped; harpoons stuck and pulled. One harpoon ripped through plank, the hull screeched under stress.
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Baran’s final intervention
As they advanced, a huge silhouette appeared at the stern — Baran himself. No words. Black gloves shone like oil. He walked, fists set, and with a single touch to three men on the quay the redistribution kicked: one defender’s limbs shattered as another watcher’s lung burst. Baran advanced; each punch hit like rock and hurled Kaito backward, smashing his shoulder against an iron cask. The sensation was cruel: bones vibrated like tight strings.
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Human counterattack
Kaito lacked Admin; his tactic was human: form a Hammer shock-formation to pin Baran. Lyra drove a runed shield into the deck to create an axis — if Baran could be held a breath, they could encircle him. Nara fired precise arrows at a man acting as Baran’s shield-bearer, breaking the stance. Lio and artificers detonated synchronized micro-Ambers in the rigging: a runic flash blinded the deck for a beat.
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Decisive moment — cost and choice
Baran staggered, not from injury but from the cleavage of light; the momentary blindness let Kaito grab Baran’s arm — the grip brutal, the glove greasy and hot. For an instant Kaito saw not only the war but the calculation in Baran’s face: there was a contract and a name. Baran murmured: “Who pays is not always the owner. Sometimes it’s fear.” With an ozonic crack the Black Fists slipped free — he dove into the water and vanished between waves.
HUD summary:
EVENT: NAVAL_INTERVENTION -> BARAN_PRESENT (ENGAGED)
RESULT: BARAN_ESCAPED -> INTERVENTION_SUCCESS (TEMPORARY)
COST: KAITO_HP 9% | LEFT_ARM_CRITIC | CASUALTIES_ADDITIONAL = 7
STRATEGIC: CONTRACT_SOURCE_PROBABLE -> MAEL_LINK_STRENGTHENED
RECOMMEND: DIPLOMATIC_EXPEDITION / CUT_ESCROW_ACCOUNTS / HUNT_THE_PLAGUE
When Baran disappeared the men on the ship screamed. The payer’s plan was foiled — but the night’s cruel truth remained: the contract lived on and unexpected hands wrote it. Mael was implicated; Velarn flung propaganda; Baran had appeared as a reminder: anyone with money could break the rules.
On the quay, waves still shimmered with the last runic reflections; Kaito and Nara leaned on each other. His breath was a roar of pain; Nara rested her forehead to his. “You noticed?” she asked, voice thin. He nodded: “He didn’t come just for Mael — he came on a contract. Someone pays, and that someone is hungry.” She closed her eyes and said, “Then we go to the table. We break the contract.” He gave a weak smile: “What if the contract is the throne?” Her eyes burned: “Then we tear every knot.”
The chapter closed with the HUD’s blunt line that would make anyone swallow fear:
MAIN_QUEST_UPDATE: BARAN_PRESENT -> CONTRACT_CONFIRMED (PROBABLE)
NEXT: HUNT_ESCROW_ACCOUNTS -> TRIGGER_PUBLIC_EXPOSURE (MAEL) / DIPLOMACY_WITH_MERCHANT_HOUSES
KAITO_STATE: CORE_FRAGMENTATION = CRITICAL | MEDICAL_IMMEDIATE = REQUIRED
RECOMMEND: CONSOLIDATE_ALLIES / DEPLOY_STRATEGIC_STRIKES
They left the quay wounded, but certain: the war was over contracts — and the next play would be to pull the strings of whoever financed the Black Fists. Kaito, hand bleeding, thought of landscapes he could no longer recall and the faces he had protected. He promised — to Nara and to himself — that he would pay the price, even if it consumed what remained.