In the underground city of Atman, even morning came with a sunset glow.

No sun rose over Atman. Its mornings were lit not by sunlight, but by lamps fueled with ore, and the light that ore emitted was the color of sunset. Thus, Atman was always bathed in that glow.

Those who had forgotten the light of the sun would reminisce about it by the artificial sunset glow of the ore lamps.

Of course, none of that applied to the boy walking down the street. Born in the underground city, he had never experienced the world outside. He had never seen the sun.

"Letter delivery."

Early morning, on a street bathed in sunset light.

Najin, dressed as a postman, was knocking on a tavern door. A good postman would presumably leave the letter somewhere suitable and move on if the owner failed to appear, but the boy kept knocking relentlessly.

"Goddammit, who is it!"

At last, a man who could stand it no longer flung the door open. He grabbed the postman standing outside by the collar and hauled him up.

"You little bastard, you could've just left it and gone. Can't you take a fucking hint...?"

He never finished.

The boy he had lifted by the collar tipped up the postman's cap pulled low over his face. The moment their eyes met, the man's face went rigid.

"Carbin."

Najin called the man's name, smiling at him.

"Trixie's inside, right?"

"... What do you want with Boss Trixie?"

"There's a letter from Ivan. Addressed to Trixie."

"..."

Without a word, Carbin glanced into the tavern. After briefly exchanging looks with his boss seated inside, he let out a long sigh and released Najin's collar.

"The boss says to come in."

"Oh. Have you got anything to drink? I'm a little thirsty."

"... Tch."

Despite clicking his tongue, Carbin headed for the kitchen. While he went to fetch water, Najin ambled into the tavern. It was full of men, each with a blade of some sort at his waist.

Seven or eight, at a rough count.

Despite being the sole target of their piercing stares, Najin made his way leisurely to the center of the tavern and dropped onto a sofa meant for customers.

"Nice sofa, Trixie."

"It's a luxury piece. Cost me a pretty penny."

The reply to Najin's murmur came from the middle-aged man sitting opposite him. Trixie, as the man was called, swirled his glass and narrowed his eyes.

"So what brings you here, Najin?"

"I already told you, Trixie."

Najin reached inside his coat. The men glaring at him flinched. Glancing at their hands moving toward the blades at their waists, he gave a little smirk.

"There's a letter from Ivan."

What he took out was a letter.

Najin waved it in front of them as if to tell them to relax. Yet their guard stayed up. Everyone present knew the boy was only masquerading as a postman.

Atman, the underground city.

With only the barest semblance of law, this virtually lawless city was ruled by three powerful figures. One was the man known as One-Eyed Ivan. And no member of Ivan's family could fail to recognize the boy before them.

"Trixie."

Trixie, too, belonged to Ivan's organization. He knew very well just what sort of person this boy was, to speak Ivan's name so casually.

"I told you to keep your fucking racket small enough not to draw attention."

Ivan's right-hand man.

"You went too far this time."

The organization's collector.

"Taking little kids, cutting their bellies open, and selling them? That's not acceptable, is it? You know what Ivan hates most. You crossed the line."

The organization's executioner disguised as a postman.

Ivan's hound.

Najin, the boy known by those names, sighed and tapped his fingers against the table. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Trixie clicked his tongue.

'Insolent little shit...'

He might not have been Ivan's equal, but he was a merchant of some renown in this business. He also held a high position in the organization. There was no way he could feel kindly toward a boy who treated him with such insolence.

But he could not say so aloud.

The boy sitting before him was acting on Ivan's behalf, and he had the skills to justify it. Trixie moistened his throat with liquor and spoke.

"So what are you trying to say?"

"I just wanted to ask. Why the hell did you do it?"

"A merchant only ever has one reason. I did it because I thought I'd make more money that way."

"That's the only reason?"

"Do I need another?"

Trixie shrugged.

"Live a little longer and you'll understand, brat. When people see an easy road, they take it. Grab a few little brats and slit their bellies, and gold coins come pouring out. Why wouldn't I?"

"I know that if you stick your foot onto a path just because it looks easy, you can get your ankle chopped off."

"Always have to have the last word, don't you?"

"That's how Ivan taught me."

CLACK!

Trixie set his glass on the table. The ice inside rattled. He was tired of this conversation, of feeling each other out. It was time to get to the point.

"So what did Boss Ivan say?"

"Shall I read it to you?"

"That would be good."

Trixie gestured with his chin.

Najin snapped the letter open and cleared his throat.

"Trixie."

Najin's lips moved.

"Your three chances are gone."

A final ultimatum.

"..."

Trixie knew what came next without needing to hear it. He signaled with his eyes. At once, the men surrounding Najin drew the blades at their waists. Carbin, who had gone elsewhere under the pretext of fetching water, flung open the tavern's back door.

CREEEAK.

Five men entered the tavern through the open door, large blades in their hands. Glancing at them, Najin continued.

"'Cough up everything you earned. For old times' sake, I'll let you live...' That's what it says. So what will you do, Trixie?"

"Can't you tell?"

Trixie gestured.

With a click, the tavern's front and back doors were locked tight. His intention was clear: he had cut off Najin's escape routes in advance.

"Whoa."

Najin marveled at the sight.

No fewer than thirteen of Trixie's men now surrounded him. Ignoring their murderous stares, Najin gave a disbelieving chuckle.

"Trixie, have you got someone backing you? Pointing a blade at me is the same as pointing it at Ivan."

"I've found a better boss than Ivan and his pointless rules."

"Horse the Spider? Hakan the Junkie?"

The other two powerful figures who ruled the underground city.

Trixie did not bother answering whose service he had entered. Instead, he merely smiled as though it were a shame.

"Such a waste, Najin."

"I know. It really is..."

The instant Najin set down the letter, all thirteen men lunged at him. Looking at the blades gleaming beneath the tavern's cheap lighting, he let out a long breath.

"I'm sorry, Trixie."

Najin's foot moved.

BANG!

Najin kicked the table between himself and Trixie upward. The glass atop it shattered, spraying droplets in every direction.

The table flying through the air.

The droplets scattering lamplight.

For an instant, they stole Trixie's attention. And then he heard it: a chilling slicing sound. Something heavy landing on the floor with a thud alongside the table. The scream came a moment later.

"A-aaargh!"

The table had risen into the air and fallen back down. What fell beside it was someone's arm. The man whose arm had been severed screamed.

His scream did not last long.

With a sickening crack, Najin's kick caved in the screaming man's face. His head snapped backward, and he collapsed with a thud. One man had fallen in an instant. Twelve remained.

"G-get him!"

"Fuck, this little shit...!"

"Charge!"

The men who had backed away from the table suddenly flying into the air lunged at Najin again. His eyes remained fixed on Trixie, who was slowly backing away.

"Trixie."

Najin smiled.

"Run, and it won't end with you alone."

Ivan's hound bared his teeth.

The lamp hanging from the tavern ceiling swayed precariously. Every time it swung and its shadows flickered, another scream rang out. Screams. Clamorous footsteps. The sounds of things smashing and breaking.

"Aaaaaaargh!"

"Crazy bastard...!"

Blood sprayed in a long arc.

It splashed across the tavern's tables, liquor bottles, and windows, staining them dark red. Amid the overpowering reek of blood and the screams, Trixie's eyes wavered.

Every time he blinked, another man fell.

Severed arms and legs lay strewn in a grisly mess. Najin drove his knee into the faces and jaws of men who kept charging even after losing an arm. His movements among his falling foes were more than uncanny—they were chilling.

He seemed to slide between the blades swung at him. Taking a light step, Najin raised his foot and stamped down on a man's knee.

CRRRACK!

With a sickening sound, the man's knee bent backward. As he fell screaming, Najin drove a knee into his face. His eyes rolled back. Before his head could even strike the floor with a thud—

SLICE.

The arm of a man lunging at Najin, hoping to exploit an opening, flew through the air. Through the spraying blood, Najin could be seen already swinging his sword. Then he kicked off the floor with a bang and lunged forward.

Every movement was uncanny.

Fast. Far too fast.

He had thought the rumors exaggerated, but the opposite was true. Once more than half his men had fallen, Trixie felt cold sweat trickling down his spine.

'Fuck.'

Trixie backed away.

Thirteen. There had been thirteen of them, damn it. He had heard rumors that this brat Najin was a monster, but he had still thought that many men would be enough to deal with him.

Thirteen, and half of them were members sent by the Spider. Skilled bladesmen who had spent years plying their trade beside Horse the Spider were falling after a mere exchange or two.

'I was wrong.'

He had to admit it now.

His calculations had been wrong. That brat was more of a monster than he had imagined. Trixie stopped merely backing away, turned around outright, and ran for the door.

But then came a click.

He grabbed and turned the handle, but the door would not open. The door he had locked moments earlier to prevent the intruder from escaping now trapped the tavern's fleeing owner.

"Fuck...!"

Cursing, Trixie fumbled at his waist. He barely managed to pull out his key, and just as he was about to fit it into the lock—

CRASH!

Something slammed into the door right beside him. Trixie froze, then slowly turned his head. There was the face of a subordinate he valued. Not one of the men the Spider had sent, but his own man: Carbin.

Their eyes met, blood running from a gash in Carbin's forehead. Trixie slowly looked back. Ivan's hound stood there.

"I told you, run and it won't end with you alone. Do I really have to mention your son's and wife's names?"

"You bastard..."

Najin was the one who had slammed Carbin's head into the door.

Still gripping his head with one hand, he looked at Trixie with weary eyes. Trixie's gaze traveled past Najin's shoulder.

"Uuuugh..."

"G-ghh..."

No one was left standing.

But no one was dead, either.

The men sprawled on the floor, groaning, had been crippled, but they were all alive. Yet Trixie instinctively knew he could not expect the same.

The boy before him was acting on Ivan's behalf. And Ivan never showed mercy to the ringleader.

He was the ringleader here. There would be no escaping responsibility. Sensing his own death, Trixie let out a hollow chuckle. His legs gave way, and he slumped to the floor with his back against the door.

"..."

Looking down at Trixie, Najin pulled Carbin back by the hair from where he had driven his head into the door. Splinters were embedded in Carbin's face, and he groaned as Najin tapped his cheek with the back of his hand.

"Carbin."

Meeting his terror-filled eyes, Najin spoke briefly.

"I told you I was thirsty."

Carbin nodded frantically.

When Najin released him, he limped toward a corner of the tavern, this time actually going to fetch water.

"Whew..."

Letting out a long breath, Najin swept back his hair. He wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve, then bent his knees to bring himself level with Trixie's eyes.

"Why make trouble for me with something that was never going to work? Trixie, you weren't this bad at calculating the odds."

"Heh, hrrgh..."

Trixie gave a bitter laugh.

"Crazy bastard. Most people would figure thirteen men were enough to put down one little shit like you."

"Even if it were Ivan?"

"That monster is an exception."

"Then you should've made me an exception too."

Trixie burst out laughing.

What sort of man was Ivan, who held sway over this underground city? He had once been a renowned knight in the world above. Unlike the rabble, he could manifest sword aura—a powerhouse among powerhouses.

Faced with a green young brat telling him to place him on the same level as such a man, Trixie could only laugh.

Yet at the same time, he could not entirely deny Najin's words.

The boy before him possessed uncanny martial talent. He was unmistakably a genius with a brilliant gift, one who would surely rise far if given proper training.

'But.'

This was Atman, the underground city.

No matter how exceptional their talent, those abandoned here or born here could never leave this city.

And so, in this city, talent was nothing but a laughingstock.

"Heh heh, Najin."

Sensing his death, Trixie chose mockery rather than begging for his life. He opened his mouth with a sneer, working his trembling jaw to voice his taunt.

"You'll spend your whole life here—Ghk!"

He never finished.

Najin thrust his sword through Trixie's throat. Choking on blood, Trixie made strangled, gasping sounds and toppled sideways.

Blood gushed out onto the tavern floor.

Only once Trixie stopped moving did Najin pull the sword from the corpse's throat.

"I know, Trixie."

Murmuring those words, Najin slowly rose. When he turned around, Carbin was there, holding out a glass of water with violently trembling hands. Najin gestured at him with his chin.

"Y-yes...?"

"Take a sip."

Carbin hastily gulped down the water.

Najin frowned as he watched Carbin drain nearly half the glass despite being told to take only a sip. Looked like he hadn't poisoned it.

"Thank you, Carbin."

Najin took the glass away before Carbin could down the whole thing. Sipping the remaining water, he looked around.

"You'd better finish cleaning up today. Ivan doesn't seem to want this place closed, so... put everything in order and take over."

"M-me, sir?"

"That's why I didn't cut your arms off."

Najin tapped Carbin's arm with the back of his blade. Carbin's eyes shook. Among all the crippled men here, he alone still had all four limbs intact.

"By 'cleaning up,' I mean the money earned from this bullshit, and your ties to Horse the Spider as well. Don't make me do this twice, Carbin."

Horse the Spider.