I stood in the middle of the warehouse for a while, taking deep breaths, trying to sort out my thoughts in the middle of all that mess.
If I wanted to get paid for this mission, I needed to bring something back. So I started gathering whatever I could.
I grabbed the bags the group had set aside before everything went to hell and began stuffing them with Dust vials, documents, loose cartridges, and anything else that looked valuable. While I searched, I set a few Dust vials aside for myself too.
As I looked over the floor, my eyes landed on Kael's charred body.
He was curled up, almost unrecognizable. The explosion had burned nearly everything. A few Lien bills were scattered around him, scorched and useless.
The ruined money on the floor reminded me of the mercenary's words:
"Your advance… Kael's… the rat's… none of you are gonna need it anymore. You'll all be dead."
I stared at Kael's body for a few more seconds. Then I looked at the mercenary's corpse, and what was left of Remy.
I sighed.
"…That's not a bad idea."
I decided to start with the mercenary. He had the best chance of carrying something useful.
I crouched beside the body. His face still had that arrogant expression frozen on it, even in death.
I started checking his pockets. Inside the inner pocket of his vest, I found a thick wad of cash. Counted it quickly.
Three thousand five hundred Lien.
I tucked the money into my backpack. I kept searching the same jacket and found a small metal case. I opened it and found several special Dust shells—the same high-powered kind he'd used earlier. I pocketed the case and kept going.
I found his Scroll in his pants pocket. The screen was a little cracked, but it still turned on.
Why waste money buying one when I can get one for free?
I used his face for the scan and opened the settings to register it to me.
Before saving, I took a quick look at the old information.
Name: Thimothy Vale
Yeah. I can see why he didn't want to tell anyone his name. That does not sound like a hardened mercenary.
"And you were making fun of Schnauzer…" I muttered, shaking my head.
I finished setting up the Scroll with my information and slipped it into my hoodie pocket.
Then I kept searching.
I found the hatchet beside him, the shotgun a little farther away where I'd left it, and the sheath for the hunting knife strapped to his leg. I unfastened the sheath, removed the knife, and strapped the whole thing to my own leg, tightening it properly.
Finally, I looked at his boots—black, heavy, with reinforced metal soles.
"Well, what a coincidence… my size."
I took off my old ruined boots and put on his. Before standing up, I shoved my old pair onto him.
"…I'm not leaving you barefoot."
I do have standards.
I got back to my feet and looked around.
The Grimm had torn Remy apart brutally. The upper half of his body lay near a stack of crates. I searched what was left of his clothes, but found almost nothing—just an old lighter and a few coins.
I looked at what remained of him and couldn't help looking away.
"I've gotten better at seeing corpses… but damn, it really did a number on you."
With a sigh, I climbed back up to the second floor.
His legs were still on the balcony, behind the crates where we'd found the first body. I searched the pockets of his shorts and found a small bundle of crumpled bills. I stuffed it into the backpack.
I looked at the legs for another second.
"Sorry, Remy. You were right from the start."
I kept staring at them for another moment, feeling a strange weight in my chest.
I was robbing men who had just died—some because of me, others because of things I'd set in motion.
It didn't feel good.
I sighed.
I dragged what was left of Remy outside the warehouse, then came back and dragged out the mercenary and Kael too. I laid all three side by side on a patch of clean dirt a little away from the entrance.
I stood there looking at the three bodies for a moment.
I thought about digging graves, but when I looked at the sky, the sun was already low.
There wasn't enough time.
I sighed and grabbed the old tarp I'd found, covering all three as best I could.
"Sorry, guys… I'm not digging tonight. It's getting late and I'm dead tired. But hey… you get the gesture, right?"
I stood there a few more seconds, looking at the improvised mound.
"It's not much, but it's what I can do right now. May the Two Brothers receive you with open arms… or whatever the hell the procedure is."
I adjusted the heavy backpack on my shoulders, grabbed the bags full of mission loot, and started walking toward the road leading to the truck.
As I walked, I thought about what I was going to do.
I'll ask a few simple questions. Nothing aggressive. Ask what happened, why they pretended the warehouse wasn't Spider's, whether he knew there were Grimm. Just the basics.
I laughed quietly to myself.
I'm Atlas elite. I don't need to be aggressive. I'm civilized. I'm better than that.
I'll be calm, direct, and polite.
Like a true Schnee.
I approached the pickup truck.
The greasy ponytail man was still in the cabin, smoking.
I yanked the door open, grabbed the back of his neck, and slammed his head into the steering wheel.
THUD!
The man let out a rough grunt and slumped forward, dazed.
Disgusting.
My fingers had sunk into that greasy, oily ponytail.
I let go immediately and wiped my hand on my pants in irritation.
"Ugh…"
He groaned, dragging air through his nose as blood started to run. Even dizzy, he turned his face slightly toward me.
"You little shit…" he growled through his teeth. "When I get up from here, I'm gonna rip your fingers off one by one."
I pressed the Glock against the side of his head before he could finish.
"Then you'd better stay seated."
He went still for a second, breathing heavily through his bloody nose. Then he let out a short, rough laugh, even with the Glock pressed to his skull.
"You're alive… what a surprise."
I pushed the barrel harder against his temple.
"Yeah, let's start there. Why didn't you mention the Grimm?"
He spat blood onto the cabin floor and smiled crookedly.
"Because it wasn't my problem."
I slammed his head into the steering wheel again.
THUD!
"Son of a—" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "I didn't know there were Grimm inside, okay? It was a possibility, but I didn't know."
"A possibility?" I repeated slowly, voice low.
I pressed the Glock even harder against the side of his head.
"I didn't know what was in there!" he snapped, his voice rising. "All I knew was that the people at the warehouse had stopped responding. Spider sent one of its own teams to check it out and recover whatever they could, but they never came back."
He spat more blood out the open door before continuing.
"After that, they decided to stop sending their own people. They started calling refugees and mercenaries instead. Anyone desperate enough to need pocket change."
Do I count as desperate?
"The idea was simple. If someone came back with goods, profit. If they died trying… nobody important was lost."
I have to admit, it was a decent plan.
The problem was deciding to try it on me.
Before I realized it, my hand had already moved.
THUD!
His forehead met the steering wheel again.
"AAH, you bastard!"
He breathed heavily, fingers gripping the dashboard.
"When I get out of here, I'm gonna shove this steering wheel down your throat."
"Noted."
Without taking my eyes off him, I tossed the bags full of cargo into the truck bed, then opened the door wider and climbed fully into the cabin, shutting it behind me. The cramped space smelled like blood, smoke, and old grease.
I sat in the passenger seat and pressed the Glock into his ribs.
"Now drive back to the warehouse."
He slowly turned his face toward me, still panting.
"You kidding me? Why?"
Adjusting the backpack on my lap, I said:
"There are still some crates there."
I straightened in the seat and let out a satisfied sigh.
I, Whitley Schnee, always do a proper job.
.---.---.---. 3º POV .---.---.---.
Capital of Mistral - Spider
In a dark and luxurious room in the lower district of Mistral's capital, Lil' Miss Malachite reclined in her favorite armchair, legs crossed, a glass of red wine in hand. The dim light of a golden lamp illuminated her precisely made-up face.
On the large screen before her, Sienna Khan's face appeared.
"Miss Malachite," Sienna greeted with a slight nod.
Lil' Miss smiled.
"Sienna, darling. First of all, I must congratulate you. Killing a Schnee… now that is the kind of strike people remember. Whitley Schnee, the spoiled little cub of the family. Who would've thought he'd end up as a White Fang trophy?"
Sienna tilted her head slightly, accepting the praise without smiling.
"Yes, certainly. Anyway, I have a job for you."
Lil' Miss took a slow sip of wine, eyes half-lidded.
She found that reaction strange. The White Fang had finally managed to hit the SDC, their sworn enemy.
Could this have something to do with the White Fang not making any public statement yet?
Lil' Miss kept her elegant smile in place, revealing none of the thought.
"A job? How interesting," she said, voice smooth as silk. "And what kind of job would that be, Sienna?"
Sienna didn't hesitate. Her expression remained serious as she described him.
"A boy between thirteen and sixteen. White hair. Pale blue eyes. Fine features, pale skin, delicate and aristocratic appearance. Thin, but not weak. Probably dirty and dressed in common clothes."
Lil' Miss listened carefully, but couldn't help letting out a quiet, amused laugh.
She understood the situation quickly.
"So the little Schnee cub escaped you. How adorable."
Sienna narrowed her eyes, clearly irritated by the mocking tone.
"Are you taking the job or not?"
Lil' Miss took another slow sip, savoring the moment before answering.
"I'll take it, darling. But it'll cost a little more. After all, I'd be hunting a Schnee who managed to escape the White Fang. That requires a bit more… dedication."
Sienna's jaw tightened slightly, visibly annoyed, but she kept control.
"How much?"
Lil' Miss smiled, sweet as poison.
"Twenty percent more than usual. Considering the risk and the… competence required."
Sienna was silent for two seconds, clearly restraining herself. Finally, she answered in a tense voice.
"Done."
She paused briefly, then continued.
"My men discovered he passed through a place called Roca Town. He went through there and headed for the capital."
Lil' Miss tilted her head, still wearing that elegant smile.
"Please. I'm a professional. If he's in the capital, I'll find him."
Sienna said nothing. She only stared at the camera for a moment before the screen went dark and the call ended.
Silence returned to the room immediately.
Lil' Miss set the glass on the armrest and stared at the blank screen for a few seconds.
Curious.
Very curious.
If a boy like Whitley Schnee had really escaped the White Fang, the natural reaction would be to run to the first authority available, prove who he was, and request an escort back to Atlas that same day. Local police, Council, embassy, licensed Huntsmen… any door would open for a Schnee.
But he hadn't done any of that.
So either the boy was a fool…
Or he simply didn't want to go home.
A slow, dangerous smile formed on her painted lips.
"How interesting…" she murmured, almost purring. "Very interesting."
She leaned back once more into the black velvet chair, tilted her head back, and stared at the ornate ceiling of the luxurious suite. The crystal chandelier turned slowly overhead as she thought.
"A Schnee who doesn't want to be found…" she said softly, fingers tapping against the armrest.
She closed her eyes for a moment, still smiling.
"I wonder how long he can stay hidden."