The streets of Norn City were bustling in the late afternoon, the golden sun reflecting off the high glass towers like shards of light. Vendors called out, hunters passed in armored gait, and the distant hum of low-rank dungeon activity permeated the air.
Drax and Isis had just exited the Inner World Association headquarters. They walked in silence for a moment, the weight of the past few days pressing down, yet neither showing fatigue.
Isis broke the silence, tossing a small device toward Drax.
"Here. For contact. In case something comes up. Or if I need to bail you out… again."
Drax caught it effortlessly, spinning it in his fingers. "Hmm. Didn't think you'd care about me enough to give me your number."
Isis smirked, though there was a slight blush on his cheeks. "You don't need to care. Just… don't get yourself killed."
Drax rolled his eyes. "I wasn't planning on it."
They stopped at the intersection where their paths diverged. Isis would go back toward his family estate, and Drax would return to his modest home with his mother and siblings.
"Stay alive, Drax," Isis said with a faint grin. "Try not to get bored while I'm gone."
"Don't worry," Drax replied casually. "Boredom doesn't scare me."
They exchanged a firm handshake, a silent acknowledgment of trust, then went their separate ways.
---
The streets were quieter now as Drax walked alone. The city felt… different to him. Every shadow, every flicker of movement caught in the corner of his eyes. The Abyssal World pulsed faintly in his mind—a constant hum of potential and power that made everything else seem small and insignificant.
As he passed an alley, a flicker of movement caught his eye. A tall figure stepped into the sunlight, clad in a dark leather coat adorned with jagged silver marks—bounty hunter gear, lightly reinforced but made for agility rather than strength.
The man's aura screamed of rogue Inner World mastery—a volatile mix of fire and decay essence, his inner world unstable but dangerous.
Drax slowed. "You shouldn't be here." His voice was low, calm, almost bored.
The man smirked, showing sharp teeth. "I'm not here for the city… I'm here for you."
Drax raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You got a bounty on your head? Or are you just suicidal?"
"Both," the rogue said, his eyes glinting with malice. "Name's Cyrus Veyra. And that bounty…" He spat on the ground. "…is worth more than your life."
Drax paused, walking casually toward him, the faint aura of his Abyssal essence flickering around him like dark flames licking at the air. "Interesting. I wonder… who would put a bounty in my head for rogue Inner World users?"
His mind flashed back to that first encounter outside the Abyssal-Rank portal… Kane's brother, towering with his S-Rank presence, testing him. Whoever had placed the bounty knew about him. Knew everything about his recent activity.
Drax narrowed his eyes. "And I suppose you came because you thought you could claim it?"
Cyrus grinned, suddenly lunging forward, essence flaring around him like molten steel. "Exactly."
Drax didn't flinch. He let the rogue come at him, his white eyes gleaming as he whispered under his breath, almost for himself:
"Let's see how much your essence is worth."
In a blur, Cyrus struck again, faster than any ordinary human could move—but Drax's Abyssal perception already calculated the angles, the weight, the trajectory. His muscles tensed. His hands flexed.
And then, the first blow landed.