The streets of New Taipeng pulsed with life once more.
Vendors shouted across narrow walkways, bargaining voices rising and falling like waves. The smell of roasted meat mixed with incense and damp stone, drifting through the crowded corridors of the market district. Lanterns swayed gently overhead, brushing against one another in the warm afternoon breeze.
Bretta and Flynn moved quietly through the tight passageways, their black cloaks drawn low over their faces. Their steps were careful, deliberate, blending into the rhythm of the crowd while avoiding attention.
Bretta's voice came softly from beneath her hood.
"I don't think humans know the kind of danger they live in," she murmured. "They move so freely… as if nothing in this world could touch them."
Flynn followed beside her, saying nothing. He kept his right hand tucked close to his body, the ring hidden beneath his sleeve.
High above them, on the slanted tiles of a rooftop, a man crouched in silence.
In his hand rested a circular metal plate resembling a compass. Strange engravings ran across its surface — symbols that glowed faintly, pulsing in slow rhythm. At the center, a thin needle trembled before pointing firmly toward the market corridor below.
The man's eyes sharpened.
"They're over there!" he shouted, pointing directly toward Flynn and Bretta.
Flynn stiffened instantly.
"Shit… how did he find us?" he whispered.
His body shifted into motion, ready to run — but he couldn't move. Bretta's hand gripped the back of his shirt, holding him in place.
"Don't worry," she said calmly. "I have us covered. They must have an instrument that can sense the ring."
Flynn stared at her.
"How are you so calm?"
Bretta smiled beneath the shadow of her hood and patted his shoulder.
"I'm a master of concealment and deceit," she said. "They can sense the ring… but they can't see us."
Flynn blinked.
"So… we're invisible right now?"
Bretta nodded.
"Nevertheless, we shouldn't stay here. If someone stronger arrives, things could get dangerous."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.
They moved briskly through the crowded market, slipping between stalls and customers like shadows drifting through sunlight. The sounds of pursuit faded behind them, swallowed by the noise of the city.
Minutes later, the market atmosphere changed.
The corridors widened. Laughter grew louder — rougher. The air carried the smell of perfume, alcohol, and smoke.
They had reached the red district.
Rows of brothels and inns lined the street, their balconies draped with silk curtains. Drunken men staggered along the stone road, supported by half-dressed women pouring more wine into their cups.
At the center stood the largest building in the district.
A wooden sign swung above its entrance.
Lady's Comfort.
Flynn's face flushed immediately as he took in the scene.
Bretta noticed and chuckled.
Without hesitation, she climbed the stairs and entered the brothel. Flynn followed, trying not to stare at anything for too long.
Inside, the building opened into a wide courtyard. A clear pool reflected lantern light from above, and a raised stage stood nearby for dancers. Silk banners hung from the surrounding balconies, giving the place an elegant, almost theatrical beauty.
Bretta turned left and climbed another staircase. Flynn followed closely.
They passed several rooms before stopping at the last door in the corridor.
A maid kneeling beside the entrance bowed deeply.
"Miss Bretta, welcome back. The lady has been expecting you."
Bretta smiled and opened the door.
Flynn stepped in behind her — and froze.
The woman inside the room seemed almost unreal.
Her skin glowed softly in the lamplight, smooth and flawless. Her long hair flowed over her shoulders like dark silk. She looked less like a person and more like something drawn from a dream.
She's beautiful… but not as beautiful as Miss Bretta, Flynn thought.
"I received your letter, Bretta," the woman said, gesturing for them to sit.
"This is the boy," Bretta replied.
"Flynn," the woman said, studying him. "Your pursuers are here."
Flynn's eyes widened.
He clenched his hand unconsciously.
He had tried countless times to remove the ring after his parents died. Throwing it away, burying it, even dropping it into a river — it always returned to his finger when he slept.
"Please," Flynn said, leaning forward. "Do you know the origin of this ring? I've tried to dispose of it, but nothing works. If I can find the true owner—"
The woman raised a brow.
"You can't dispose of it because it chose you," she said. "You're its master."
Flynn fell silent.
"There are four other rings like yours," she continued. "I don't know if they are connected, and each of them holds extraordinary power."
She leaned back slightly.
"I'm surprised the ring hasn't revealed itself to you yet. You don't have a god, do you? Without one, you wouldn't survive entering the ring's realm."
"Realm?" Flynn repeated.
"Every ring contains a realm," she said. "A space within it."
She raised her hand.
A purple ring with a diamond shimmered on her finger.
"I have one too. Mine is an artifact. Yours… is a world."
Flynn swallowed.
"I… I don't understand any of this."
"You don't need to yet," she said gently. "Just know the ring is dangerous — to you and to others."
She glanced at Bretta.
"We'll protect you. That's our mission."
"Mission?" Flynn asked.
Bretta nodded.
"We belong to an organization. We were assigned to protect you… though we don't know why."
Flynn smiled faintly, imagining the two women as his bodyguards.
"Flynn," the woman said sharply.
He snapped back to attention.
"After receiving a god's power, speak to the ring. It should reveal itself."
"You can't go inside!"
The maid's voice came from the doorway.
A heavy shove followed. The door burst open.
A tall, bearded man stepped inside, scanning the room slowly. His muscular frame and steady breathing made it clear he was trained for combat.
"I know you're here," he said. "One of you can use illusions."
Flynn's heartbeat thundered in his ears.
The man extended his hand.
A red sword formed from thin air, glowing like heated metal.
Flynn's panic spiked.
His hand jerked — knocking over the cup on the table.
The sound of it hitting the floor echoed loudly.
The man smiled.
He swung his sword toward the noise.
Time slowed.
Flynn shut his eyes.
CLANG.
Metal collided with metal, the waves of the clash sends the curtain and the objects in the room flying in different directions.
When Flynn opened his eyes, the woman stood before him, holding a white sword that blocked the attack.
"Run," she said. "I'll hold them."
Bretta grabbed Flynn and rushed toward the open window.
Before they could reach it, three men leapt up from the street below, landing inside the room.
Bretta stopped.
She and Flynn stepped backward, returning beside the woman.
They were surrounded.
Silence filled the room.
Flynn looked at the woman.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She stared at him in disbelief.
"I want to know," Flynn said quietly. "If I die… I want to remember the name of the woman who helped me."
The woman smiled.
"It's Rosie," she said.
Then she lifted her sword slightly.
"But we aren't going to die."
Her eyes hardened.
"I'm the strongest here."