Goldenclaws HQ, Meeting Room
The table was cluttered with Young Mo’s confiscated gadgets.
Guards rifled through his coat and pants with the enthusiasm of raccoons tipped off about shiny trash. A small pile of electronics grew by the minute — comm unit, hidden cameras, slim recorders.
One guard lifted a recorder and squinted at it. “What’s this?”
Another shrugged. “No idea. Just take anything that looks like a machine.”
While the frisking continued, King Baldrik sat motionless across from Mo, sipping his tea in loud, deliberate slurps. He studied Mo like a cat judging a particularly calm mouse.
Baldrik broke the silence first. “You know, I’m oddly grateful for Murica’s sudden arrival.”
Young Mo smiled, relaxed. “Oh? That’s unexpected, Your Majesty.”
“Meridinia would’ve never helped me reclaim my throne without this war,” Baldrik grumbled. “Then your canal appeared. Merchants fled their ports one by one. Cassemir and his ministers nearly combusted from panic, according to reports.” Another sip. A longer slurp.
Young Mo nodded politely. “Glad we could be of service.”
Baldrik raised a brow. “You’re alarmingly composed for someone caught red-handed. Do demon spies like death that much?”
Young Mo chuckled softly. “Most Murican spies do, yeah. And I’m proud of every one of them.”
Baldrik blinked once. “…you said that like it’s a virtue.”
“It is.”
The guards finally stepped back.
“Your Majesty,” the armor captain said, “this is everything we could find.”
Baldrik waved a dismissive hand. “Well then, Dillian, or whoever you are. It’s been a pleasure.”
The armor captain swiveled his cannon toward Young Mo.
Young Mo kept smiling. Unbothered. Unmoved. Poker face welded into place.
BOOM.
The cannon fired.
A fist-sized hole opened in Young Mo’s chest. Blood seeped outward, warm and dark. A thin trail dribbled from the corner of his mouth, but his expression remained exactly the same, like a mosquito landed and bringing a mild inconvenience.
“Huh,” Young Mo said, voice steady. “That did sting a bit.”
Baldrik stroked his beard, impressed against his better judgment. “Ahh. I’ve heard of this. You must be a noble demon class. The kind that refuses to die on schedule.”
Young Mo grinned wider. “It appears so.”
Baldrik leaned forward. “Fetch the new holy shell. Let’s see if demon nobles burn cleaner than common ones.”
A guard saluted and left the room.
The heavy doors groaned shut behind him.
A Goldenclaws soldier entered from a side hall, kneeling before the king.
“Your Majesty. The guests have evacuated the HQ safely.”
“Excellent. And this spy friends?”
“They’re holed up in the old dungeon beneath the boiler room,” the soldier reported. “Boiler staff say they can hear gunfire and explosions below.”
Baldrik frowned. “Gunfire? In an abandoned dungeon? Who are they even shooting at?”
“Apology, we have no idea Your Majesty.”
Baldrik exhaled sharply. “Hmph, whatever it is, it’s still irrelevant. Just remove them.”
“Hiding rats under my stronghold is still unacceptable,” he added, standing. “Mechanical toys or not.”
Young Mo watched him and his spying gadget that lies on the table, calculating even while bleeding onto royal carpet. He is grateful his evidence was intact. But the real threat is clear now — his time was ticking.
Baldrik only glanced once more at the smiling demon in the chair.
“Soon, you and your friends,” he smiled. “will die a rat’s death.”
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Baldrik smirked coldly.
The cliffhanger, however, was not here.
It was underground. And it was louder than expected.
---
Dungeon Secret Room
The chalice lay on the floor, glowing faintly.
The Misfits circled it, panting and sweating.
Primary weapons in one hand. Sidearms in the other. Every barrel pointed at a teammate’s.
A Mexican standoff.
Professional idiots at work.
Silence.
Sharp eyes met sharper grudges.
Then — Ivy raised both weapons into the air.
“Guys… I can’t,” she said, voice trembling with performative heartbreak. “I can’t do this to my precious friends.”
Shk. Shk. Shk.
Bolts racked. Hammers pulled. Click-clacks of distrust.
All guns instantly snapped toward Ivy.
“What the hell?!” she barked—feeling insulted—swinging her weapons back at them. “Why are you aiming at me?! I said something nice!”
Irving shrugged, casual as ever. “Meh, because every nice thing out of your mouth is just a scheme with lipstick.”
“Uh-huh,” Kovalski nodded.
“Yep,” Bella echoed.
Ivy scoffed. “Tch. I’m not the only schemer here. Did you know that our beloved captain here insured all of us and named himself as the beneficiary?! Right captain?!”
Kovalski and Bella gasped like soap opera extras.
Shk. Shk. Shk.
Guns rotated toward Irving.
“What the?! Is this how we’re doing it?! Airing secrets like laundry?!” Irving snapped. “Fine! Here’s one — Did you know that the MPs back at Dawn Base regularly bribed Bella with food. That’s how they always knew about our secret loot!”
Bella froze. “CAPTAIN! You promised you’d never tell anyone!”
Shk. Shk. Shk.
Weapons swung to Bella.
She pointed back. “Okay, okay! But how about Kovalski? He’s a narcissistic menace who started flirting with anything breathing from day one!”
“HAH!” Kovalski scoffed, “Nice try. But I never jeopardized the team by flirting!”
Shk. Shk. Shk.
Now every gun aimed at Kovalski.
“The hell?!” he groaned. “Seriously?!”
Ivy shrugged. “Well, I’m still a girl, you know. And you’re basically a dangerous animal to every women in Talvaris.”
“And your narcissism is a hazardous health concern,” Irving added, “My health concern.”
Silence returned.
The standoff lingered, no one shooting, everyone judging.
The chalice still glowing faintly, unimpressed by their drama.
“Sigh… this is going nowhere,” Ivy exhaled.
She dropped both weapons to the floor with and raised her hands like someone who definitely had a backup plan.
Shk. Shk. Shk.
Predictably, every gun in the room swung right back at her.
“Chill,” Ivy said, inching backward one step at a time, hands still raised, smile suspiciously zen. “I’m just backing off to look for clues. Maybe there’s another way to get the Single Piece without ventilating each other’s skulls.”
Silence.
Irving, Bella, and Kovalski exchanged looks full of math.
They didn’t trust Ivy. They never had.
But… her guns were on the ground.
They can trust the ground.
Shk. Shk. Shk.
So they rotated their aim toward each other instead.
The standoff was now officially downgraded to three idiots, minus one threat.
A mistake.
Ivy grinned. This was exactly the stupidity she’d been betting on.
Her fingers curled behind her back, slipping toward the flash grenade tucked at her waist.
The pin pulled. Silent. Elegant. Criminal.
The others were too busy measuring betrayal with eye contact.
Ivy rolled the grenade forward.
“Oh gu~ys,” she chimed sweetly, voice dripping with fake innocence, “Look! Look! I found the clue!”
Whirrrr.
The flash grenade skidded, spun, and came to a stop right beside the chalice.
All three peeked.
All three stared directly at it.
All three deserved what came next.
POP–FLASH
A sun was born, briefly, on the dungeon floor.
“KYAAAA! MY EYES!” Bella collapsed first, writhing dramatically while clutching her face like a tragedy.
“UGH!” Irving followed, rolling on the ground like a dying animal. “I KNEW IT! I KNEW I SHOULDN’T HAVE LET MY AIM OFF HER!”
Kovalski dropped to his knees, swaying like a blind lighthouse. “GAAHH! THIS IS WHY I NEVER HIT ON YOU, IVY! YOU’RE PURE LYING EVIL!”
Their guns clattered uselessly on the stone.
Three Misfits.
Three casualties.
Zero dignity.
And Ivy, standing safely out of range, hands still raised for no reason now other than theatrics.
Ivy stepped toward them. Casual. Slow. Like a cat that already ate the bird.
“Whaaat?” Ivy cooed. “I’m not lying. I did say I’d find a clue so we don’t have to shoot each other.”
She picked up the chalice and began tossing it in one hand.
Up. Catch. Up. Catch.
A reckless metronome of arrogance.
“And of course,” she leaned in with a vicious smirk, “with ME walking away with the Single Piece. OOHOHOHOHO!”
Irving didn’t move. Still kneeling. Still blind.
But not deaf.
He tilted his head slightly.
His sharp demon hearing didn’t need sight to triangulate stupidity.
“But Ivy…” Irving muttered. “You made a mistake.”
“Hmm?” Ivy blinked, still smug. “What do you mean a mistake?”
“You’re too damn close. And too damn loud.” Irving grin wickedly.
Irving snapped out a pepper spray, aiming purely by sound.
CHHHSSSSS
A direct hit. Ivy took the full blast to the face.
“KYAAAAAAAA!! MY EYES! MY NOSE!” Ivy shrieked, staggering back, chalice fumbled into the air before rolled back on the floor.
Irving laughed blindly. “MUAHAHAHA! Now none of us can see!”
But Irving remarks accidentally trigger something on Bella’s brain.
Bella inhaled sharply, brain sparking dangerously.
She puffed her cheeks like overfilled airbags.
POOF
A pink bat now stood where Bella had been.
Tiny wings. Rounder silhouette. The color of sassiness.
“Kyahahaha!” Bat-Bella chirped.
She snatched the chalice with her feet and launched upward, airborne.
“Too bad a bat doesn’t need eyes!” Bella cackled mid-flight. “Say hello~ to echolocation! Kyahahaha!”
“Goddamnit,” Irving groaned, still blind, “whenever her brain works, it’s never good for us.”
Meanwhile, Kovalski—
professional heartbreaker, reluctantly a Murican elite sniper—
had been silently speed-running recovery.
He downed the status recovery potion that he got from Irving earlier.
His sniper breathing was steady.
His vision returned to operational violence as he blinked rapidly.
He grabbed his MP5 and aimed upward.
His target was small, but luckily it was rounder than a normal bat, and the pink color made it stand out from the surrounding background.
He aligned his aim directly at Bella.
He exhaled slowly, ready to pull the trigger. He knew he wouldn’t miss. However, his face visibly hesitated.
“…fuck,” Kovalski whispered to himself.
Bella, still celebrating, turned her head toward the echo of victory:
“OH MISTER DIAMON! I’M THE WINNER! I GOT THE CHALICE! NOW WHERE SHOULD I PU—”
PSSHHHT!
The silenced gun cracked.
A single bullet cut through the air.
The room went still.
The echo died.
And Bella’s sentence never landed.
