“Okay, V. I’m going to tell you the three I’m actually considering. Prisoner numbers 8731, 7003, and 0010. I want you to confirm everything—their crimes, their habits in the prison, which block they’re in. Everything.”

  V grinned lazily, leaning against the metal bars of the holding area. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling before giving me a knowing glance.

  “Got it, new boss.”

  Taking another drag, he exhaled and began his rundown, his voice casual but tinged with the experience of someone who’s seen it all. “Alright, let’s start with 8731. Their Arte is biological—keratin manipulation. The long and short of it? They're a bio-weaver, and their hair is their weapon. They can turn their hair into spikes, chains, all sorts of things. Used it to turn into a massive wheel of hair and sharp spikes during a terrorist attack at a summit with the leaders of the Free Cities Alliance. That was a wild day. B-block resident. They’ve been broken mentally and physically. Had their nails and hair waxed off as punishment, but we’ll restore that if you choose them. Their crime? Terrorism, turning into a living weapon. But here’s the thing—they’ve been manipulated. The facts don’t add up. I’d say there’s a possibility they were played into committing the act. There’s no clarity, and honestly? They’re on the ‘don’t’ list for execution. The plan is to move them to an asylum, where they can be kept under observation and treated. So, if you don’t want to execute them, they’ll be handled, just not by you. But I’ll tell you—this one has potential.”

  I paused, taking in the information. A manipulated pawn or a dangerous tool. Either way, this was a tough one. I glanced at V, who was puffing out a cloud of smoke, waiting for my next question.

  “Alright, who’s next?”

  V smirked, leaning back and flipping through the next dossier. “7003. Known as the Duchess of the Drownyard. She’s a pirate. Used her water manipulation Arte to become a notorious pirate captain. Serial piracy, larceny, murder, and three counts of abduction. The kind of person you don’t want to have on the wrong side of the law. But here’s the thing—she’s honorable in a twisted sense. She made a deal to save her crew, claiming they were following her orders. The investigation backs her up. She turned herself in to protect them. But make no mistake, she’s a mastermind. Her crew did everything she commanded. Execution is on the table for her, and she’s currently waiting for the blade. But I recommend you consider her. Why? Because she’s a great underworld asset. A strategic mind and a capable leader who can get you the information you need. She may be a criminal, but she’s useful. You don’t want her head on a platter unless you absolutely have to.”

  I ran my hand over my face, taking in V’s words. A pirate who turned herself in for the sake of her crew, yet committed countless atrocities. If I chose her, I’d be granting her a second chance—and a powerful ally in the underworld.

  “But you said I could butcher them if I didn’t choose them, right? So why should I consider her?”

  V chuckled darkly. “Because you’re not here to just kill. You’re here to lead. And she can be a valuable tool. Use your judgment. Her life is a strategic asset, and the rewards from keeping her alive? Well, they’ll pay dividends.”

  I nodded, silently digesting his words, then turned to the final dossier.

  “0010. This one’s a whole other level,” V said, his tone shifting. “She’s the only resident of E-block. And, honestly, this one’s a monster. Her crimes? Abduction, murder, arson, theft—the list goes on. But the thing is, everything about her feels like it doesn’t add up. She’s marked with the slavery mark, which means, well, she was forced into her crimes. But here’s the kicker—everything points to her being the one at the top of the pyramid. She’s the ringleader. The one who manipulated others into doing her bidding. She claims it was all forced upon her, but the evidence doesn’t support that. The mark? That’s real, but it’s still her at the heart of it all. She’s a monster who deserves to be put down, but here’s the twist—she’s the protector of a gate to an Otherrealm inside the prison.”

  I blinked. “You mean there’s an Otherrealm gate inside the prison?”

  V nodded, his face serious for the first time. “Yeah. She’s the one who guards it, and the only reason she’s still alive is because she’s the only one who can control the gate. Let me make this clear—you need her if you’re going to get any answers about that Otherrealm. You could put her down and end the threat… but if you do that, you risk losing access to one of the most dangerous and valuable things in the entire prison. She might be a monster, but she’s got use. If you don’t choose her, she’s headed for the chopping block, no questions asked.”

  I shook my head, absorbing all of this. Three prisoners. Three choices. Each with their own dark past and twisted potential. The weight of the decision was crushing.

  “So, who do I choose?” I murmured, mostly to myself.

  V smiled, a flicker of something more calculating in his eyes. “That, boss, is your call. I just tell you the facts. You decide who’s worth keeping around—and who gets the axe.”

  “Do all of them get the axe if I don’t choose?” My voice was calculated, trying to mask the weight of the decision. I had an idea forming, but I wasn’t about to show my hand just yet. “I want a meeting with 7003 and 0010. I’m currently leaning towards choosing 7003, but what would it mean if one of these residents just... disappeared?”

  V’s smile turned into something sinister, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Prisoners die in B-block and C-block all the time, Alexander. What do you imagine would happen to someone who disappears?”

  I considered this, letting it linger before responding. “7003 is an underworld asset, but I don’t want her on my protection detail. That would be a waste of her talents. What I want is her as a network, as an information and black market broker. I need loyalty there, contacts that will help me, not someone on my front lines. I was told to pick one for the team, but Walkers walk alone. What we don’t do, is go without the right equipment or connections. I can’t do this alone.”

  V nodded slowly, letting me finish before responding. His voice was laced with approval. “Smart. You’re making a calculated decision, not rushing in like most would. And what about 0010?”

  I rubbed my chin, considering. “0010… I need to speak with her first before making any final decision. I’m not convinced yet, but I won’t pick her without understanding more. If she’s truly as dangerous as they say, then I won’t have her on the team. Otherwise, I’ll pick none for protection and go with 7003 as an info-broker.”

  V’s smirk remained, but his tone turned more serious. “You’re thinking it through. Good. You should be careful with your choices. Now, as for 7003, you basically just said you don’t want her on your detail. So instead, you’ll have to make her an Auxiliary.”

  I blinked, unsure. “Auxiliary?”

  V leaned back against the wall, tapping his cigarette lightly before explaining. “The term is Auxiliary, not just ‘team member.’ You’re allowed up to three, and they’re more like support assets. They’re not officially part of your core team, but they can be invaluable to you. And while you’re making a solid call, I have to ask—are you sure you want to use one here? 7003 could be useful, but she won’t be a part of the team in the same way your core Adjutants are.”

  I thought it over carefully, weighing the implications. “Yeah. Information is going to be my biggest weakness. I need her connections, and if I don’t have someone like her on my side, it could be a serious handicap. I’m willing to use one of my Auxiliary slots for that.”

  V’s expression softened slightly, though still holding that calculating edge. “You’ll make use of her, that’s for sure. I can arrange a meeting with 0010, but there’s one more thing—you need to execute the rest first. You’ll need to handle the others before I can even start the process with 7003. You can’t have them hanging around.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The weight of his words hit me like a stone sinking into water. My decision was no longer just about who would join my team—it was about who would live and who would die.

  “Understood,” I said, my voice steady despite the rising tide of uncertainty in my chest. “I’ll execute the others. Then we’ll see about 7003.”

  V’s smile widened, the kind of grin someone has when they know you’re in deeper than you thought. “Good. You’re starting to understand what it means to be a Walker. This job… it’s not easy. And sometimes, there’s no going back.”

  The prison yard was still and silent. The only sounds were the distant murmurs of the guards and the heavy breathing of the remaining prisoners. I stood alone, my heart pounding in my chest, a weight pressing down on me. Each life that would be taken today was another piece of my soul slipping away. But I couldn’t stop now. I had made my choice, and there was no turning back.

  I didn’t have Fractal with me this time. She was in school—her presence was just a memory, a small comfort I could hold onto. I wished she were here, but in this moment, I had to rely on myself.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the stack of paper. My fingers moved quickly, folding the edges with precision, the familiarity of the process grounding me. I let my Arte take shape. Paper Manipulation had always been a tool for creation. A means of expression, of form and design. But today, it was something else.

  I folded the first piece into a shuriken, its edges sharp and cruel. With a flick of my wrist, I sent it flying, and it struck a prisoner square between the eyes. He dropped without a sound, his body crumpling like a ragdoll. The clean cut made me sick.

  I didn’t have time to dwell. The next piece of paper became a sword—thin, but deadly. A clean blade, sharp enough to pierce bone. I aimed it at the next prisoner. His terrified eyes met mine for a split second before the blade found its mark. His throat was slashed open in an instant, the blood spilling like a torrent. He fell, lifeless.

  Two down.

  I didn’t even need to look at the others. The paper weapons were becoming an extension of myself, each one more efficient than the last. A spike, now. I shaped it, the jagged edges cutting through the air. I thrust it forward, and it buried itself in the chest of another prisoner. He gasped, his body jerking as the paper weapon absorbed the life from him, sucking the strength from his limbs.

  The next prisoner tried to flee. But he was slow. I fashioned another dart, this time smaller, more precise. It hit him in the back of the head, sinking in deeply, his body collapsing into the dirt.

  Five down.

  I was moving quickly now, my hands working on autopilot, shaping weapons without thought. A paper needle for one. A paper guillotine for another. I didn’t need to stop. I couldn’t afford to.

  The blood, thick and viscous, coated my hands as I continued. My chest ached, not from the pain of my previous injuries, but from the weight of what I was doing. I had been forced into this. Forced to become this. The image of Fractal’s worried eyes flickered in my mind for a moment, but I pushed it away. There was no room for doubt. There was no time for hesitation.

  Eight down.

  I approached the next prisoner, his face pale with fear, his hands raised in surrender. He wasn’t even trying to fight. I didn’t care. He had killed before. He deserved to die now. The paper guillotine came down on him with a swift motion, severing his head clean from his shoulders. It rolled to the ground with a sickening thud.

  Twelve down.

  Each life taken was like a weight added to my soul. But it had to be done. I am a Walker now. I had to live with it.

  The next few prisoners were the same. They tried to run, to beg, to reason, but there was no reasoning with me. I was executing the orders I had been given. Their crimes; all abhorrent.

  As the last few remained, I felt my body grow tired. My hands were shaking, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t give in.

  Twenty down. Seven left. Then six. Then five. Many accepted their deaths. Some with smiles. Some with tears. I tried to make each one painless. Yes. These people were killers. There's blood now on my hands, stained red from the act of the harvest. Five quickly became one.

  The last one, a man who had taken lives in the most gruesome of ways, was trembling. He was on his knees, begging for mercy. His dossier was long. He killed and butchered forty-seven hundred children. Collecting their feet from their half eaten corpse.

  I summoned one last paper weapon, a sharp, cruel blade, the edges so thin they seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. I aimed it at his chest. He looked up at me with pleading eyes, but it didn’t matter. I drove the blade down into his heart.

  The final breath left his body with a wet, gurgling sound. He was gone.

  Twenty-seven down.

  The yard fell silent. The air was thick with the stench of blood, the quiet of death settling over the scene. I stood there, surrounded by the corpses of the men I had just killed. My hands were still trembling, my chest heaving with exhaustion. But it was done.

  I wiped my hands on my robe, trying to shake off the sensation of what I had just done. I had no choice. I had to do it. Walkers walk alone. There was no time for hesitation, no time for weakness.

  I stood there, my body shaking, my hands slick with blood, staring down at the bodies of the twenty-seven prisoners. The weight of what I had just done settled heavily on me, but it didn’t matter. It had to be done. There was no room for hesitation. The Walkers didn’t hesitate.

  V’s footsteps were slow as he approached, his eyes scanning the field of death with an unsettling calm. His voice broke the silence, cold and precise.

  “Your orders will be harder. And this will be one of the hardest. You relished a few of the kills, I’ll admit,” he said, his voice laced with an almost detached approval.

  I didn’t answer. My gaze remained fixed on the lifeless forms before me, the twisted, grotesque sight of their final moments etched into my mind. I hadn’t relished any of it. But I had executed my duty.

  “Others,” V continued, his tone shifting slightly, more approving now, “I applaud your ability to do it quickly. The way you moved through them—efficiency is key. There’s no room for hesitation in this line of work. You killed them cleanly, without faltering.”

  I swallowed, fighting back the nausea that threatened to rise. His words sounded almost like praise, but they were as empty as the bodies lying in the dirt.

  But it was the last one he spoke of that made my heart thud heavily in my chest. He didn’t have to say it—I knew which one he meant.

  “That last one…” V’s voice softened, as if understanding the weight of the moment. “I understand. That one was different. He wasn’t just a criminal—he was a monster.”

  The last one. He had been a child killer. Not just any killer, but a predator. He’d eaten children. Half of their bodies, to be exact. The feet of his victims were trophies. He wore them, collected them, like some twisted, sick trophy to remember his violence.

  His final plea was weak, a whisper, a whimper. But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t hesitate. I could hear his voice, echoing in my mind, but I had already made my choice.

  I looked up at V, my gaze steely, void of emotion.

  “I didn’t give him mercy,” I said quietly, my voice steady but cold.

  V didn’t respond right away. He simply nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette. “No. You didn’t.” His tone was flat, almost approving. “And that’s why you’re here. You’re not supposed to give them mercy. Not in our world. Not when they’ve crossed that line. There is no redemption for monsters like him.”

  I turned away, feeling the weight of his words like an anchor, dragging me deeper into the abyss. V’s assessment was harsh, but true. There was no place for mercy here. No place for compassion. There was only the cold duty of a Walker. To protect the roads. To judge who can cross them. To decide who is pardoned and who is exiled.

  The job was about making the hard calls—the ones you don’t want to make. You had to decide who was a bandit simply trying to feed themselves, and who was a monster obsessed with their greed. You could spare one, but the other needed to be stopped, before they hurt more innocent lives.

  My body felt on fire. My mana channels screaming at me. My overuse of my arte. Does killing make it easy to ignore the pain? Is that why they all did it? What kind of pain were they feeling that killing others made it all feel…numb? Their eyes. Their faces. Their tears. Their screams, their pleas. Their masks of fear. Like the raven, the conspiracy grows.

  “Your role is not to be an executioner,” V’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You’re a guardian of the roads. Not a judge, not an executioner. You are there to protect those traveling, to ensure safe passage. And sometimes, that means making hard decisions. You’re not here to kill for the sake of killing.”

  I nodded, still feeling the weight of the decision, but V’s words hit home. I wasn’t here to be a judge. I wasn’t here to execute anyone I deemed unworthy. I was here to protect. To keep the roads clear.

  “You’re walking a fine line,” V continued, his voice steady and cold. “But as long as you can make the hard calls quickly, without hesitation, you’ll be fine. This is what you’ll face outside the walls. You’ll have to decide if they’re starving for food or starving for blood.”

  I exhaled slowly, the weight lifting slightly, but still heavy on my chest.

  “I understand,” I said, my voice low.

  V smiled at me, his eyes cold but with a hint of something approving behind them. “Good. Now, let’s get to work.”