**In Neran City, central district**
Citizens stood on the footpaths, avoiding traffic as they stared up at the city televisions attached to soaring modern buildings.
"All citizens' entry to the South Hills is strongly restricted, as the area has been discovered to host an illegal auction run by a celebrity of the underground black trading community—the criminal Laticia Sendorlitch, better known as the Witch of Chains. Authorities are currently investigating and dealing with the situation, with the aim to apprehend her. Our sources state that the Marked Mercenaries have made an unexpected raid, facing opposition from both sides. Do not fret—the Cryoharan government's special military police force, led by Captain Malikar, have responded with the goal to defeat both the Marked Mercenaries and the Witch of Chains. Your authority, in charge of maintaining law and order throughout Cryohara Country, is the government."
The speaker on screen was a man in a white military suit with star badges on the side and the logo of the Cryoharan flag on the front of his uniform. His short, well-combed black hair was mostly covered by a pale military hat.
Among the citizens in casual clothing, business attire, and school uniforms, conversations buzzed with concern and speculation.
"The Witch of Chains? M-mommy, isn't she bad?" a boy no older than six asked his mother.
"Don't worry, sweetie. The military will protect us. Didn't you hear? Captain Malikar's there, and he's the strongest," his mother replied, pulling him into an affectionate embrace.
In the crowd, some prayed, some cheered, and some simply watched with worry. Among them was a certain Marked One—Robu. After Jetore's words to him at the Marked Mercenary selection, Robu had left the petty mines he'd worked in for criminally low pay and had been searching for Jetore's uncle's restaurant, hoping to find a job there.
*You idiots better make it out,* he thought as he stood there, eyes fixed on the screen.
**Cryohara Navy headquarters, North Hills, 30 km from Neran City**
A giant structure towered over a crystal-clean lake below a red bridge—a central tower connected to several round auxiliary buildings, with ships and tanks stationed below.
Through the window of the top room in the highest tower, a man could be seen bridging the temples of his nose, a bead of sweat delicately tracing his wrinkled forehead. He had a neatly combed grey mustache and hair. His name was Gratts Yinsley, a high-ranking six-star general of the Cryoharan government military.
"This is unprecedented. I hadn't accounted for the possibility of Marked Ones raiding the auction. Damn it all! They beat us to it, and since their target is likely the Witch of Chains, they probably sent one of the Crimson Stains too," he vented, frustration and annoyance mingling in his voice as he read through report papers on his desk, a laptop open before him.
"You're being paranoid, General. Malikar's an oh-so-hot and good boy~" a woman said as she entered the office slowly. Her hair was a deep shade of red, tied into a ponytail. She wore a strange skirt with half-exposed legs covered mostly by long socks. On her torso, she wore a short white military jacket tied casually at the bottom, worn more like a crop-top. Beneath it, an expensive-looking bra barely contained her cleavage.
Gratts scoffed, refusing to make eye contact. "Just as shameless as ever, I see, Valentina. The only reason you haven't been punished for your consistent violation of the dress code—as well as inappropriate behavior—is because you wield one of the Supreme Scientific Weapons. Don't forget that."
The words only made Valentina laugh. "Hahahaha! Oh, don't be so cold. I'm sure you're just as naughty as the others. But more to the point—I meant it. Malikar's strong. In fact, I don't know a single person there who could possibly get in his way… so then why isn't the raid over?" she said, her playful tone shifting to one of genuine concern.
Gratts nodded. "So you and I have the same question. I have no clue who could possibly fight Malikar, especially with the *Gladius qui Serpit*. Other than Laticia herself, Space-Stealer Kran and Diamond Fist Clara are the only other noteworthy figures. The rest of their party is comprised primarily of support units and lower-ranking Marked Mercenaries, a few of which seem to be new."
Valentina's eyebrows raised slightly as she leaned over the desk, watching the broadcast on the monitor. "And the heir to the Aerostar clan isn't among them? That's weird. I wonder if they have anyone on par or close to Felix in terms of power," she said.
The sentence caused Gratts' eyebrow to twitch. He hadn't considered that possibility. After all, they knew Felix was in the Marked Mercenaries selection thanks to testimonies from failed candidates they'd arrested. "I highly doubt Felix could lose. He likely left on his own terms. But what troubles me is our current situation, Valentina. According to these recent transmissions, Malikar's occupied fighting a force outside the auction hall. To think someone could stop him… We can't let the Marked Mercenaries take Laticia before us," Gratts stated, scanning the logs on his monitor.
Valentina licked her red lips with excitement. "Oh, reallyyyy?" she said.
**In the lower eastern parts of Laticia's fortress**
Zygrok's battered corpse lay defeated on the ground. Clara walked past it, her hands stained with scarlet blood, a wound on her nose already regenerating.
In front of her stood the leader of the group that had attacked her and Maddeline—Starken. To say the least, he was astounded and morphing into fear, his eyes wide, his boots shaking.
"N-No!!! Impossible! Zygrok was made by Dr. Boronso and the Emperor of Ishania! There's no way such a masterpiece could be beaten by you!!" he shouted in denial, though the corpse before him was breaking his confidence.
"He was a terrifying achievement—a bio-engineered monster made from human remains. An impressive but truly detestable creation," Clara commented, her voice as cold as ice. "And I'm afraid you'll be answering for your crimes in the same way, Starken. Death," she continued, an almost malevolent smirk appearing on her face.
By now, all the henchmen and slaves backing Starken had been taken care of, either killed or incapacitated by Maddeline.
Starken stumbled back with the realization, fear seeping into him as he shouted, "Shut up! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!! I'll make you pay!!!"
But suddenly, Maddeline embraced him from behind, her Passion Mark activating with a green brilliance. The small bruises and minor cuts on him began to heal.
At first, Starken was taken aback. Maddeline had no reason to heal him. "W-why? Am I just that irresistible, baby?" he said, as if trying to convince himself more than anyone.
"Not really. I hate having to make physical contact with a creep like you, but you'll understand why it's bad soon enough," she said with a grin.
Suddenly, Starken's eyes widened. His body began to ripple and shake, but he was caught in Maddeline's grasp, still being healed and unable to move. His minor injuries had long healed, yet her power was still being used on him.
"W-what the hell are you doing to me, you bitch?!" he demanded as his arm rippled, expanding for a moment before his stomach did the same. He could feel himself being crushed and bloated simultaneously—a hellish sensation most never know.
"One of the abilities my Mark of the Doctor grants me is cell activation and multiplication, along with being able to boost the natural recovery of the biological body. Now, I wonder what happens when I cause irregular cell growth and reproduction in random parts of your body by letting the energy of my healing flow unevenly. That's right… cancer. And thanks to my cell activation, your body's going to violently grow tumors and overload. You'll be crushed by your own insides and then explode," Maddeline explained.
The implications terrified Starken as he felt his body overheating and expanding. Parts of his stomach and upper biceps began rupturing and swelling; blood escaped his nose, ears, and mouth as his form shifted unnaturally.
Maddeline swiftly jumped back, as did Clara, who watched with her arms folded.
Starken's body exploded, leaving an eruption of biomatter and blood, with lumps of deformed flesh staining the floor and walls of the chamber—a grotesque end for an equally grotesome person.
"You certainly don't hold back, no matter how much you tease," Clara said with a rather proud smirk.
"What can I say? You never underestimate a medical professional, especially not a Marked One," Maddeline replied with a shrug.
Clara nodded. "We're already short on time. Mr. Kran needs our assistance."
**Lower levels of the fortress**
"So you're saying that you… you DUMBASSES decided to blow shit up and expected it to go smoothly?!" Rennet shouted.
"Says the one with literal fire as their ability!!" Jetore replied in a brutish tone, his irritation at its peak.
Seracore scoffed as he held his shield. "At least we took out something. You guys haven't done shit except go on a walk. Talk about useless," he snapped at Rennet, siding with Jetore.
At that moment, Rennet's hair seemed to glow as his Passion Mark illuminated a bright reddish-orange. Flames burst from him. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY???!!!!!!!!!! I'll kill you!!!" he shouted, the flames reacting to his anger.
But before he could act on that threat, Riko's voice rang out. "Guys! Stop being stupid! That explosion helped us—look! It blew through all three of the levels here!"
Jetore was almost offended at Riko of all people calling him stupid, but as he looked up, he realized it was true. The explosion had spiraled a hole through the mid-level floors and upper levels.
Riko was floating at the top, suspended and propelled by jet propellers dislodged from his back—a creation of the Mark of the Engineer.
"Well, it's not like we can fly—" Seracore began, but his sentence halted as his eyes widened at the prospect.
Rennet flew upward with exhausting bursts of fire from his palms pointed downward, giving him vertical propulsion. Jetore created and combusted explosions from his palms that roughly repelled him upward through the air. It was almost comically laughable—Seracore was the only one who couldn't fly up.
As Rennet arrived at the upper level where he and Riko had been earlier, he gripped his hand, trying to conceal the pain from the burn it had received. Jetore arrived shortly after, landing on the gold-plated floor, his fierce black eyes twisting in disgust at the area.
"I wonder where Al got off to. Not that I'm worried—he's strong," Riko said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate candy—something that made Jetore step back uncomfortably. Ever since the selection, Riko's seemingly limitless supply of the treat was something Jetore couldn't get out of his mind.
"That silver-haired jerk? He's the one that beat Mei by using her own dumb plants against her. I owe that guy," Rennet commented as the three began to move, pacing swiftly through the destroyed halls.
Suddenly, a Clortisax burst into the chamber, its roar shattering the air. Its thousands of blade-like limbs continuously clawed like shredders, threatening to brutalize anyone in close proximity.
Jetore's eyes twitched with frustration and realization. "Don't try to take that thing head-on! It'll skewer you!" he yelled as they leaped back, dodging the Clortisax that had just slammed into part of the wall, tearing it to shreds with its sharp limbs.
"Well then, how the hell are we supposed to stop it?!" Rennet demanded, angered that he couldn't just burn the beast to ashes like usual. Its hardened body seemed to indicate fire resistance—even Rennet could see that.
"We need that dumbass sissy shield idiot. His power's stupid, but it's what we used to—" Jetore said, but before he could finish, his sentence was interrupted as Riko dashed past him, headed straight for the Clortisax.
*What the hell's that idiot doing? He's gonna get himself killed!* Jetore thought.
In that moment, however, Riko leapt into the air as the huge Clortisax twisted toward him, threatening to gouge out his organs with its piercing limbs.
"Particle-Accelerated Jet Drive Laser!" Riko shouted, naming his technique as he pressed his hand forward.
Suddenly, as his Mark glowed a brilliant blue, his hand transformed. Bolts rearranged, creating a cybernetic cannon-like weapon transmuted from his right arm. Wires connected to it glowed as a ring around the outer edge spun, sparking with electrical power generation.
Immediately, a powerful exhaust beam fired from the weapon, shattering the air as it struck the Clortisax. Its intensity and concentrated firepower burned through the beast's tough, heat-resistant shell, cracking and breaking it as the beam shot straight through.
As the laser dispersed and the smoke cleared, the Clortisax dropped dead, a gaping hole scorched through part of its upper segment, blood pouring out.
As Riko's arm returned to normal, he smirked. "Is that all ya got?" he said, as if to add insult to injury.
Regardless, Rennet and Jetore were at a loss for words. All they could do was stare in shock.
*N-no way… The kid's strong, sure, but he wasn't a monster. We barely had three days to prepare. There's no fuckin' way he got like this so quickly,* Jetore thought as he grit his teeth.
"T-that was some serious firepower! And fire's *my* power! What the hell was that?! And didn't that thing have heat-resistant armoring?" Rennet demanded as he stepped closer, his ginger hair waving.
Riko looked back casually and rolled his shoulders. "That one's a new goody of mine. Part of my ability is that I can use any material I understand the chemical and physical properties of—I can create and use it in the things I make. When I generate machinery or weapons, it's transmuted from the body part I use, taking my energy each time. That cannon you guys saw was made from a weird metal I saw in the outer walls at the underground base. I was kinda sneaking around in those three days, and that glasses guy was hiding weird notes in some basement, so I read through the manuals of whatever he was yappin' about—not too hard. I adapted that material. It's very stable and helps boost charges as well as focus heat on one point. Pretty freaky but useful," Riko explained, the goggles on his head shining with reflected light.
Rennet's eye twitched. He honestly didn't understand half of what Riko said, but he knew one thing: "So… you can make better machines… just with free metal you find? That's so dumb!" he said.
"Tck, whatever. I'm still the strongest. You got that?!" Jetore claimed.
Rennet was about to shout in retaliation, his flames brimming with irritation toward Jetore, but Riko looked ahead with a determined smile. "We got a job to do, guys," he said as he took off, running through the halls.
As Jetore and Rennet followed, the three came across a few remaining henchmen of Laticia, who pointed guns and fired without hesitation. They didn't last long—Rennet burned them to ashes in an instant.
"Watch out!" Riko shouted.
The alert was taken seriously by Jetore, who jumped aside as the floorboards beneath him slid away like sliding doors. A strange mechanical trap fired, sparks of electricity rushing out.
"The hell?! What even is this stupid place?!" Jetore shouted as he landed back down, away from the trap.
"I don't know, but it has a lot of traps and weird machinery. Rennet and I ran into quite a few on the way here. A really talented engineer built it, I can tell. That Laticia bitch doesn't deserve even half of it," Riko replied, some of his pent-up frustration leaking out as he remembered the disgusting sight from earlier at the auction.
*I'll make sure you pay. I'll wipe that smirk off your face,* he thought as he looked ahead.
"Oi, what's this?" Rennet asked, pointing at an elevator with a broken mechanism.
"Don't go pointin' at things that are useless! The hell do you expect us to do about it, Flamelet?" Jetore commented, the arrogant smirk on his face clearly meant to make the name-calling derogatory.
Rennet's eye twitched for a fraction of a second before his Mark of the Arsonist glowed. Flames raged from him in a vengeful aura. "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE MESSIN' WITH???!!! Flamelet?! My fires can burn down cities! I'll beat your ass!" Rennet snapped.
"Oh yeah?! Then try it! I'll blow you to bits, you extra!!" Jetore taunted, though his anger was the leading cause of his aggravated behavior.
As the two stepped closer, Riko's voice could be heard chanting, "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"
Rennet turned to shout at him but then realized that Riko was already inside the elevator. The mechanism seemed to have been remade, operating expertly. Riko had reverse-engineered and repaired the broken mechanism while Rennet and Jetore were yelling at each other.
Their voices quickly muffled as the elevator ascended with Riko inside. From reading the labels, he knew this was the way back up to the auction hall—or at least to a larger basement-like level above the upper levels but below the auction hall.
He looked down at his hands, which were wearing tight brown rubber gloves usually worn in workshops. His eyes glistened for a moment as they narrowed, a hint of seriousness in his pupils as he clenched his right hand.
*Why do I feel so off? I chose to be a Marked Mercenary to get leads on the criminal that killed Zephyr… I have to kill. That's what a mercenary is… I want to kill that Laticia, make her pay for what she's done, but… it doesn't feel right. Damn it… old man… annoying me from beyond the grave,* Riko thought as he smirked a little, a single tear escaping his left eye.
**At the highest level of Laticia's fortress, under the basement connecting up to the auction hall on the surface**
The dark, office-like room provided a contrast to the extravagantly detailed, bright architecture in the hall outside. Riko could tell that as he looked around. There was a briefcase of deni cash on the table—the currency of Cryohara.
As he began to chew a chocolate candy from his pocket, he rummaged through the shelves until a feminine voice spoke.
"Who are you?"
Riko turned around to see a cage in front of him. Inside sat a long-blonde-haired girl who looked sixteen at most, bound by chains, wearing ripped and aged clothes. Her expression was twisted in suspicion and distrust, with a hint of hope behind her eyes. It was Trish—the girl who had struck Laticia in the face an hour ago in defiance, kept as a special item Laticia had plans for.
"Well? Answer me," she demanded.