Night had barely settled over Ardenfell when the new broadcasts began to spread—quietly at first, slipping through network lines like a rumour with teeth. By morning, they were everywhere. Every city, every province, every forgotten border town.
Even places far beyond Ardenfell's reach felt it.
ARONDALE – Western Coast of Ardenfell
The storm-worn fishing city of Arondale was still waking when the screens flickered to life above the harbour. Salt wind carried the smell of seaweed and rusted nets, and fishermen paused mid-knot as the first government emblem washed across the public display.
No one expected the next image.
A row of eight faces—blurred, grainy, caught mid-movement from execution footage the government had once buried.
Below each face, the surname:
AIKO.
Whispers rolled through the docks. Inside a cramped tavern, the broadcast flickered across a dusty wall-screen, and the room went strangely quiet. A few people leaned closer, brows pulling tight.
"Aiko…?" someone whispered. "Who even is that?"
A man near the counter frowned into his drink. "Never heard of 'em. Mountain folk, maybe? Why's the Dominion making such a fuss?"
A woman snorted softly. "If they were that dangerous, we'd know the name."
But no one did.
That was what unsettled them most. The government didn't usually hide the monsters it wanted hunted—and yet here they were, staring at eight strangers whose surname had never crossed a single tongue in the room. Something about that silence felt wrong.
The broadcast cut into the confusion.
A refined, cold voice spoke.
"Public Identification Report: The individuals formerly known as the Aiko siblings, presumed dead during the Kagekawa Purge, have been confirmed alive. Their real lineage—concealed for sixteen years—has been verified. They are Fiends."
Gasps. Hands falling still. Someone's knife clattering onto the dock.
The voice continued:
"Citizens of Ardenfell—your safety depends on immediate compliance. These individuals are Class-A threats. Their capture will bring substantial reward. Their escape endangers the nation."
No one missed the implication:
The Fiends caused the purge. The Fiends bring misfortune. They always have.
A lie… but one spoken with the weight of law.
The fishermen weren't thinking about truth.
They were thinking about the bounties that began scrolling beneath the faces.
Bounties so large even an honest man could feel his morals bend.
VASTORIA – The Frozen North
Far above Ardenfell's borders, where blizzards swallowed sound and mountains split the sky, the settlement of Frostmark gathered inside its heated tavern.
Most nights were filled with crackling fire and mug-thumping laughter. Tonight, all that noise dimmed to a low hum as a long-range holographic projector buzzed to life in the center of the room.
The screen showed the same eight blurred figures.
Mercenaries leaned in.
Hunters froze mid-sip.
People who had killed for far less than a rumor watched the names appear with hungry eyes.
Ren Aiko. Aya Aiko. Mika Aiko. Takumi Aiko…
One by one.
And then, the truth beneath them:
Real identification: FIEND.
The tavern owner spat on the floor, breath misting in the cold air.
"Fiends, huh. So the stories were true."
A younger hunter shook his head. "I heard the purge happened because the family betrayed the Dominion. That they summoned spirits."
A veteran corrected him without looking away from the screen.
"They weren't traitors. They were targets. The Fiend bloodline's been cursed politically for years."
"Doesn't matter," another mercenary muttered. "A bounty like this could buy us half of Vastoria."
Outside, snow drifted past the windows in absolute silence—like the world itself was listening.
THE AKAHAMA EMPIRE – Eastern Desert Nation
Across the scorching dunes of Akahama, heat shimmered above sandstone walls and domed cities. In the grand market of Namaris, traders were shouting, guards were patrolling, children were running barefoot through sand-carved alleys.
Then the imperial screens ignited.
Akahama rarely broadcast Ardenfell news unless it served a purpose. Today, it served a massive one.
People paused beneath sun-baked archways as a new decree unfolded.
The Aiko siblings.
Eight blurred faces.
A long list of crimes, some real, most invented.
The announcer shifted into the Akahama dialect:
"Ardenfell's traitors have resurfaced. Known now as the Fiend Lineage, their presence threatens the stability of the continent. The Empire offers trade benefits to any who provide information or aid in their capture."
The market changed in a heartbeat.
Bounty hunters tightened belts.
Smugglers exchanged meaningful looks.
Nomadic travellers whispered about the eight shadows drifting through the world.
Akahama didn't care about the purge.
Akahama cared about leverage.
And the Fiends had suddenly become the biggest bargaining chip on the continent.
BACK IN ARDENFELL – GOVERNMENT COMPLEX
Inside a high-security broadcasting facility, two government officials watched the final version of the announcement loop on a private screen.
The younger officer swallowed hard.
"Do you think the public will actually believe this? That the Aikos were the Fiends all along?"
The older officer didn't blink.
"People believe what fills the gaps in their fear. Kagekawa's destruction always needed a face. Now they have eight."
"And if the siblings speak up?"
"They won't."
A thin smile.
"Dead fugitives don't talk."
The lights in the studio dimmed.
Throughout multiple kingdoms, cities, deserts, and frozen strongholds, the final line of the broadcast echoed from screen to screen:
By midday, the whole world knew the name again:
FIEND.
A name feared.
A name hated.
A name whispered like a curse.
Exactly as the governments intended.
By the end of the day, the broadcast had stopped feeling like an announcement and started feeling like weather. Something that simply existed everywhere, unavoidable, settling over every border, every tavern, every outpost with the same cold weight. East, west, desert, mountain, sea—no place escaped it. The bounties weren't numbers anymore; they were seeds. Seeds dropped into human greed, human fear, human desperation. They rooted fast. In Arondale, dock workers whispered about how a single capture could feed their families for years. In Vastoria, mercenaries sharpened their spears and memorised blurred silhouettes. In Akahama, caravans redrew routes on the chance of intercepting eight shadows fleeing across the continent. Even small villages that had never heard the name Aiko, never mind Fiend, now spoke it in doorways and around cooking fires with the tone one uses for curses or miracles.
Across Ardenfell, hastily printed posters and flickering broadcast screens spread the same terrifying message. Eight faces. Eight names. Eight identical bounties, each etched in black on stark white:
Ren Fiend – 1,000,000 crowns
Aya Fiend – 1,000,000 crowns
Takumi Fiend – 1,000,000 crowns
Mika Fiend – 1,000,000 crowns
Hikaru Fiend – 1,000,000 crowns
Daiki Fiend – 1,000,000 crowns
Kaede Fiend – 1,000,000 crowns
Yuki Fiend – 1,000,000 crowns
Beneath the list, in bold crimson letters that demanded attention:
"REWARD IS 1,000,000 CROWNS PER SIBLING, WHETHER CAPTURED ALIVE OR DEAD."
But the government didn't stop there. For anyone bold enough to eliminate or capture them all at once, an extra line glowed like fire across the paper:
"BONUS REWARD IF ALL TARGETS ARE CAPTURED OR KILLED TOGETHER: 20,000,000 CROWNS."
They made it perfectly clear. Each sibling carried the same price. Alive, dead, separately, or together—the numbers were absolute. Even if a single mercenary brought in all eight at the same time, the maximum reward wasn't some arbitrary sum—it was fixed, guaranteed, forever: twenty million crowns in one payment. No time limits. No expiration. No excuses.
And for those who doubted the permanence, a final line sealed it with cold authority:
"THIS BOUNTY IS PERMANENT, INDEFINITELY VALID, AND WILL REMAIN ACTIVE UNTIL ALL TARGETS ARE ACCOUNTED FOR."