Vito Fool and Mia Hart stood tensely in the second-floor hallway, listening to the faint sound of the shower and the unsettling humming from inside. Despite Shun's reassurances, the thought of Dharma Leyndra—a man who treated life with such brutal disregard—bathing in their house made them uneasy. As the water shut off, they held their breath. Vito, standing poised by the door, readied himself for whatever might come next. He doubted they stood a chance if Dharma changed his mind, but he was determined to put up a fight nonetheless.
The door creaked open slightly, and Dharma's raspy voice broke the tension. "Could you fetch an old man some fresh clothes? These rags aren't exactly fit for a servant."
Vito stiffened. The man had known they were outside the entire time. Realizing there was no point in keeping guard any longer, Vito understood that if Dharma wanted to do something, neither he nor even Silver could stop him. Mia, trembling slightly, rushed off to find a clean suit.
After delivering the clothes to the door, Vito and Mia hurried downstairs, hoping to avoid further confrontation. Shun was waiting at the base of the spiral staircase, a calm smile on his face.
"Did he do anything?" Shun asked casually.
"No, not yet," Vito muttered, his voice heavy with unease. Together, they waited by the staircase, anticipating Dharma's descent.
Before long, the man appeared at the top of the stairs. His transformation was astonishing. The once ragged, dishevelled figure now stood tall in a neat suit, his grey hair slicked back. His presence, which had exuded menace earlier, now carried an air of nobility. To any passerby, Dharma Leyndra would appear as a distinguished elder—polite, even.
Shun, like Vito and Mia, was taken aback by the drastic change. The filthy, blood-soaked murderer they had encountered earlier was now gone, replaced by a man who seemed to belong in the royal court.
But when Dharma spoke, the tension in the air returned.
"Hehahaha," he chuckled wickedly, scratching his head. "That felt good. I haven't had a proper bath in ages… I feel like a new man." His voice, though hoarse and sinister, now had an eerie contrast to his polished appearance.
Vito and Mia exchanged glances, their disbelief palpable. It was difficult to reconcile the gentlemanly figure before them with the unhinged killer from before. Shun, too, struggled to process the change. Dharma's initial appearance had been so chaotic, so villainous, that this version of him felt completely foreign.
Despite his age—far older than even the kingdom of Lordrixis—Dharma's sharp eyes gleamed with a youthful vitality.
Sensing their bewilderment, Dharma let out a hearty laugh. "Alright, kids, what chores do you want me to handle?"
Shun shook his head and smiled, "Leave the chores for later. I need your help with something more important, Mister Leyndra. I'm heading to the Kingdom Outskirts, and that place is crawling with unsavory types. Having you along for protection—and intimidation—would be a big help."
"The Outskirts?" Dharma's laugh was chilling. "Hehahaha, that place is like my personal playground. I don't kill as much as I used to, though—gotta keep the population from dwindling too much." He shrugged, his casual tone making the grim statement seem mundane. "And drop the 'Mister.' That's not a title I deserve."
He murmured to himself, something about "courtesy," "old bastards" and "They might kill me". Shun heard it but chose not to dwell on it.
As they left the capital gates and made their way toward the Outskirts, Shun turned and asked, "Dharma, do you enjoy killing?"
The question seemed to amuse Dharma. "Hehahaha, no one enjoys killing—not even Tyrant Kolgwyn. There's always a purpose behind what we do, but not everyone can understand this purpose, perhaps not even ourselves."
He paused, his smile fading slightly. "Some people just annoy me, so I kill them. Simple as that. But… there are plenty I've killed who didn't deserve it. I regret those. I do."
Shun didn't turn to look at him, but the weight of Dharma's words resonated deeply. Shun, too, had taken lives that didn't deserve it. The conflict within him grew. Part of him longed to stop, to settle into the peace and luxury he now had, but the other part clung to power. Without it, he feared becoming the helpless orphan he once was.
He had the ability to steal others' ethereal arms—an incredible power. And if he could, he didn't see any reason why he shouldn't.
Lost in thought, Shun continued walking forward, his pace unbroken by the internal struggle.
He might hesitate, but he would never stop walking forward.
Eventually, they reached a flat, desolate area on the outskirts. No one was around, and the air felt heavy with tension.
"Dharma," Shun asked coldly, "who is the strongest in the Outskirts?"
The question was laced with an edge that even Dharma found unsettling.
"Me," Dharma replied casually.
Shun sighed, annoyed. "Besides you."
"There are three complete ethereal warriors out here. The 55th, Vivid Nollen. The 68th, Alice Clayton. And the 94th, Hugo Goldsmith. Along with an ascended ethereal warrior who leads a gang, they are regarded as 'The Four Blackguards,'" Dharma continued, "but don't worry about the ascended one. He's not worth your attention."
Shun doubted that it was as simple as Dharma suggested. To rise to the level of complete ethereal warriors, the ascended one had to possess something far beyond mere strength. There was more at play—perhaps influence, strategy, or a hidden power that set him apart from the others.
"Would killing them bring me undesired trouble?" Shun asked, his voice steady, but with an underlying edge.
Dharma's lips curled into a grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hehahaha, Shun, do you know what rules govern the Outskirts?"
Shun glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Rules? There are rules here?"
Dharma's grin widened, an eerie, knowing smile. "Exactly. So what are you waiting for?"