***In a strange large hall, excluded from most of the underground Fortress**
The concrete floor of the peculiar chamber splashed up like liquid as Ren emerged, planting his foot on the ground as he stood up. His Mark of the Swimmer's blueish color faded as his ability returned to a dormant state on his command. Ren's goal at that moment was to find and rescue the slaves Laticia possessed. He came to a stop as he saw a large number of cages, each with a different shackled person inside. Many of them were women, dressed and prettied up with expensive and beautiful dresses to increase their appeal to Laticia's bidders. The men wore mere shorts to expose their muscles more clearly, to showcase their reliability for labor. The thought of it all boiled Ren's blood to his core; it was a disgusting way to treat human life as he saw it.
"Shhh, I've got you guys," he said as he knelt down, holding a small but stretched piece of metal wiring as he began lockpicking the cell doors.
Two of the slaves inside the cell he was working on jolted up: a woman with brown hair and dark skin, dressed as a dancer, an iron collar on her neck signifying her as Laticia's property; and a small boy with black hair and bright beige skin, a few bruises and wounds on his body that almost disturbed Ren.
"P-please, I'll let you do anything! Take my virginity! My dignity! Make me a slave! Anything as long as you free the child!" the woman pleaded through the bars, catching the attention of some of the other slaves—the ones Laticia allowed to keep their personalities.
Ren's eyes were concealed by his swimming goggles, making it impossible to gauge his emotion from them, but he smirked. "That's too bad, because I'm greedy—I mean, we're here to get you *all* out," he exclaimed.
In that moment, many of the slaves rushed to their cage bars, a hint of hope in their eyes as they bowed and prayed for salvation. Ren could only grin.
**Back in the Circus from the mid levels**
A gigantic scythe swung from one side of the room as Albert jumped over it, his Passion Mark glowing golden as the architecture of the room bowed to his will. The scythe twisted and turned, slashing toward Jakky, who only laughed hysterically, swinging off a rope before flipping through the air and landing on top of another tower.
"Fuhahaha!! I nearly fuckin' died! That was hilarious!" Jakky chuckled as if it were comedy gold.
Albert's eyebrows narrowed as he jumped back down onto the peculiar platform on the stage where he and Kiera stood. "Why are you fighting using traps in this murder circus? Surely even someone as pathetic as you can realize that I can control the surroundings here thanks to my ability," Albert said with a smirk that was more intrigued than arrogant, one of his hands in his pockets.
Jakky's grin widened as he began to climb a ladder. "Well you see, my little Architect, a circus is built for stage performance! What kind of clown would I be if I fought any other way?!" he replied.
The answer only made Albert's eyebrow raise in confusion as he thought: *How can he be that confident going up against a Marked One? He definitely has a scheme. Whatever the case, it's imperative I deal with him quickly so we can advance.*
A smirk appeared on his face as his Mark of the Architect glowed. Some of the bright curtains with stripey designs folded inward, stretching apart for a moment before tearing into pieces. They hardened as they raced like the tentacles of a kraken toward Jakky, who responded by quickly hopping away, swirling through the air with ecstasy as he landed on top of a wooden beam.
Suddenly, the wooden beam changed shape and turned into a circular wooden stairwell, with each platform circulating downward.
"Oh? Making me a nice staircase, huh? How kind of you, boy! Your ability certainly suits my fancy, ya know!" Jakky joked as he reached into his pocket and pulled out eight small balls, juggling them with practiced ease. The disrespect he was showing was starting to get on Albert's nerves.
*This clown's awfully acrobatic and agile despite not even being a Marked One. It's irritating, if anything,* Albert thought as his eyes twitched. He looked down at the stage where Kiera was still on her knees, clutching her ears as her eyes were forced shut, small tears flowing as she tried to block out all external noise. *For a Marked Mercenary, she doesn't strike me as an experienced killer. She may not be, considering we're around the same age. Still, she's far too indecisive and weak-willed. Although… Riko may have had a similar reaction if it were him.*
Suddenly the wooden stairwell—shaped from the beam by Albert's ability—began to twist and violently rotate downward as he raised his hand. Jakky was thrown off balance, struggling to hold on as his body was dragged around.
"Send help! Send help!!!" Jakky's screams and pleas only lasted a few seconds before his tone shifted and he smiled sadistically. "...but not for… ME!" he shouted as he deployed a concerning number of knives from his pockets. They flew out in all directions from him like the splashes from a water fountain due to the momentum of his spin.
Albert's eyes widened in surprise. "Tricky bastard!" he shouted as he proceeded to defend himself, shielding his face and chest with his arms. One of the knives stabbed into his right wrist, drawing crimson blood. Another knife pierced through the air and stabbed his right shoulder. His blood poured from the wound as Albert shouted in agony and collapsed down onto the stage once again. The other knives scattered in their respective directions, piercing parts of the wall.
"HAHAHAHA!!! WAS THAT FUNNY??!!!! Did you like it?!" Jakky asked with psychotic enthusiasm as he jumped down.
Albert tried to keep his focus, but it was hard. Even with reduced pain as a Marked One, he could feel his shoulder burn and his arm go limp. The knife stabbing into the bone on his wrist made for an excruciating experience every time he moved his right hand. He grit his teeth and bit his lip in an attempt to distract from the pain and focus on Jakky. The blood from both wounds, however, trailed down through his open coat, staining it with red before splattering on the ground right in front of Kiera, who grew horrified at the sight, a mix of guilt, shame, and concern on her usually soft and gentle face.
As Jakky dropped down, suddenly part of the glass framing on the top of the stage reacted to Albert's call. His Mark glowed an even brighter golden as he smirked despite the unease he felt.
Jakky's eyes widened as the glass framing shattered. Pieces and shards twisted and flew down toward him. He narrowly dodged, but one successfully shredded into his left ankle. He shrieked, red blood splashing outward and staining the part of the stage he landed on as he gripped his leg and twitched before smiling.
"Now—THAT was a good show, boy! But… OHEHEHEHE! I'll have to pay you back for that!" Jakky shouted at Albert, who was struggling to even get to his knees beside the terrified Kiera in the center of the stage.
*Damn! I was hoping to get him with that attack, but the damn bastard's too quick on his feet,* Albert thought.
Footsteps could be heard as Jakky raised his arm. Slowly, five slaves under Laticia's power stepped into the clearing—two women and three men, each holding weapons: metal bats, knives, torches, or clubs. They were all clad in similar clown clothing as Jakky, supported by bright and colorful makeup, collars around their necks, and eyes empty and devoid of liberated thought.
"These pretty boys and girls are some of Laticia's unwanted items she let me toy around with. It'll suck, won't it? Being pummeled and smashed to death by the very people you came to rescue in this stupid raid… but THAT'S WHAT MAKES IT ENTERTAINING!" Jakky announced before raising his arms as if conducting a choir. He then looked at the slaves. "Get the brat, boys and girls! The snowflake girl is mine!" he commanded as they began to move.
Kiera shook as her legs refused to follow her command.
"Tck, this is sick! You're just a coward! And a worthless excuse for a human being!" Albert shouted, his eyes glaring at Jakky as he forced himself up, blood still finding its way out from his wounds, still pierced by knives.
**Outside the Auction hall**
The surrounding trees and ground were being shredded, and craters were being formed with every attack. Malikar's swarm of deadly spinning micro-blades continued their relentless attack on Luca, who flipped through the air before dodging and swinging his own blade. He created a slashing arc in the air that momentarily parried and pushed back the swarm before being overwhelmed and dispersing into a small gust of wind.
Malikar raised the handle of the *Gladius qui Serpit*, his eyes focusing on Luca carefully despite his lazy look. *This freak's not even a Marked One, yet he's movin' like one. And what's up with those air slashes and arcs of compressed wind? It doesn't make sense,* he thought.
"Please, Master Luca, allow us to fight with you," one of the white-clad support soldiers pleaded. The rest of the support unit stepped up, glaring disdain and hatred at the Cryoharan police force gathered, especially at Malikar, who bit down on the cigarette still in his mouth.
"Unless you want to face an unfortunate demise, you will remain still and follow my orders faithfully," Luca said as he jumped back down, gripping the handle of his saber.
By this point, some attacks from Malikar's swarm had shredded off part of Luca's mask, exposing half of his face. Some of his hair could be seen trailing down in a small twist; it was a color of dark blue, the same as his eyes.
"Unfortunately—I… can't let you pass. My comrades are currently conducting an attack on the Auction and Laticia's fortress. We've been promised a fortune to bring her head to our employer. That is our justice," Luca stated before his grip on the handle of his saber tightened.
Malikar lifted his cigarette out of his mouth to exhale smoke for a second. "Yeah, I'm aware. That's why we came. You guys are so loud despite being mercenaries that it instantly revealed the location of the illegal business conducted by that witch. We'd been searching for it for quite some time now… and that's exactly why I need to pass. You guys are still criminals in the eyes of the country, ya know?" Malikar said.
Luca's visible eye narrowed as he flashed forward, his blade's tip pointed at Malikar. In an instant, he slashed. Malikar skipped back to dodge but didn't exactly make it in time as the slash from Luca's blade created a bleeding cut on his left cheek as well as sliced his cigarette in half. At the same time, however, the swarm of micro-blades split into three smaller ones that seemingly overran and shredded Luca half a second after his attack.
"Hell yeah! That's the power of Captain Malikar's *Gladius qui Serpit*! The idiot's probably in multiple ground-up pieces now!" one of the soldiers on the government authority's side cheered.
However, the truth was far from that. As the blade swarm lifted, it revealed Luca's strange form. Part of his clothing was shredded, true, but it was more tiny tears and rips than anything major. More concerningly, there was no blood. In fact, Luca looked to have multiple missing and shredded chunks of his body, yet there wasn't a drop of blood.
Malikar's eyes widened as suddenly, Luca's body began to regenerate, twisting like a piece of paper until he looked just as good as before, having regained the pieces of his body that had been shredded.
"Now that's freaky. It's gotta be the power of a Passion Mark," Malikar said as he smirked, equal amounts of excitement and annoyance in his voice.
Luca smirked. "You're not necessarily wrong. However, I'm not a Marked One," he said before grabbing his saber again.
"How the hell are we supposed to fight that guy—no! That *thing*?!" one of the authority soldiers cried in fear.
The other beside him stepped back in disbelief. "W-what the hell… it's a fucking monster! What the hell kind of freak or monster are we supposed to fight? Are all Marked Mercenaries like him?!" he shouted.
The growing tension and unease at the development made even Malikar sweat, but he couldn't deny to himself that he was more intrigued than scared.
**Back at Jakky's murderous circus underground**
Albert's breaths continued to grow ragged as he struggled. The slaves, forced to obey commands, pulled by strings like puppets, walked closer, weapons in hand. *I can't risk hurting them—and these stupid knives are breaking my concentration to use my power. We're sitting ducks if nothing's done,* Albert thought before his eyes widened with realization as a memory hit him.
It was of what Riko said after their fight in the labyrinth where the Marked Mercenary selection part one happened, when his executive room crumbled as his power wore off, when he and Riko lay with multiple fractures, bruises, and open wounds, when Riko said those words: *"You know there's a thing called askin', right?"*
Albert smiled faintly. *That's true. As usual I was being an overconfident idiot, isn't that right, Riko?* he thought before turning his gaze to Kiera, who was still shaking and afraid, her expression twisted in fear and guilt.
"Please… help me. We must fight together," he said.
The words almost made Kiera lose consciousness. She forced a nod and clutched her bandaged weapon as she struggled. But then whispers crawled into her head from her memories; they acted like shackles, restricting her.
**Flashback to 5 years ago, inside a luxury hotel beside the seaside near Lernol Town, Cryohara**
"A musician??! I knew your ridiculous obsession was going too far, but this is just unthinkable!" a woman shouted. She had the same lush black hair as Kiera and had purplish eyes. She wore a white dress filled with flower patterns.
In front of her stood an eleven-year-old Kiera, her hair a beautiful black that hadn't grown to the length it would eventually reach, merely up to her shoulder. She was small, younger, but her face still held the same doubt.
"...I'm sorry, mother, but… I just—" Kiera struggled to finish her sentence, clutching her shirt as she grit her teeth.
Her mother's right eye twitched with irritation. "You're going to be what your father and I want you to be, understand?! And stop listening to that slop, uncultured cretins nowadays call music!" she spat. "Did you really think anyone cares how you feel or what you think?! That's naive. You were conceived to continue your father's bloodline, nothing more, nothing less. So you'll do what's asked. If you refuse… I'll make sure to tell him, and he'll make you watch as he tortures and slaughters criminals. True peace and justice has no room for weakness and indecision," she projected, her eyes darkening with a lack of warmth.
The threat forced little Kiera to her knees as she began to cry and apologize. But suddenly, Seracore came in. Twelve years old at the time, he was the result of Kiera's father's affair before her birth. Since he was born to a mother who was no more than a lowlife prostitute, as everyone saw, his purpose as a branch family member was to support the main line—protection and servitude. As such, he grew familial love for Kiera, the only one who could breach his rough personality. He swore to protect her no matter what.
The twelve-year-old Seracore glared defiantly at Kiera's mother, which only disgusted her. As he walked over, standing between her and Kiera, he had scratches and dirt stains on him, and he was far from the most distinguished and proper sight—a rough one. But in that moment, he turned his head and faced Kiera with a soft smile.
"You better make rock when we get you on a stage in a concert one day," he chuckled.
The sentence alone touched Kiera. She refused to let her dream disappear. Even if only one person believed in her, she'd unite people and share the world one day, through tunes.
**Back in present, with Albert and Kiera**
Growing courage spiked through Kiera's veins as a change washed over her, something Albert noticed as her demeanor shifted. Kiera stood, looking determined at the slaves approaching, clad in forced clown outfits. She raised her concealed weapon as the bandages that were wrapped around it came undone and fell off. A glistening shine could be seen for a moment from the weapon Kiera held. The bandages fell still on the ground. Even Jakky stopped laughing.
Albert's eyes widened as he looked. *T-that's a guitar? No, an electric guitar. And that other instrument attached to its end… an electric guitar with a harp attached to it? For what purpose? Does this mean her passion is..?* Albert thought as his mind ran through a hundred different scenarios and speculations.
"Finally! The little soft darling gets up!! And she's got the most wacky toy too! Should I use it to kill my next victims after you two??" Jakky mocked, his voice momentarily feigning softness.
Suddenly, a Passion Mark glowed a bright purple on the skin below Kiera's ear, on the side of her neck. It was the symbol of a treble clef, a note used in music to indicate the pitch of high-range notes. Its glowing purple color was almost the same as the color of the hoodie Kiera was wearing.
Her breath was a bit shaky, but she stood resolute as she played the wired strings on the guitar. Her hair slapped the air in a dancing motion as the sound of a heavy metal soundtrack could be heard. A shockwave generated from her instrument, running a line through part of the stage and erupting where the slaves stood. The vibrations shattered the flooring beneath them as the tiles at the edge of the stage broke upward, the force knocking the slaves up and away, repelled.
"W-w-WHAT THE FUCK KINDA WITCHERY IS THAT?!!!" Jakky shouted, his usual unserious and fearless demeanor cracking under his clown makeup.
Albert smirked, still clutching the bleeding wounds from the knives as he held his right arm. The bleeding slowed as the fast regeneration Marked Ones possess started to come to life. "I see… so you have the Mark of the Musician," he declared.
Kiera clutched her instrument after her attack, still weary and shaken but resolute as she nodded, her ears listening to every sound in the room.