"This time, we will have our revenge. No mercy."

Hatred drove him to slam his helmeted head against the wall again and again. That pitiful sight needed no explanation.

*Thud. Thud.* The hard metal cracked sharply with each impact.

"Right, right. For our Villain Consolidation Dispatch Company, this is only natural. Avenging a fallen brother... He was practically the fifth of the Four Heavenly Kings, yet vanished without a trace in an instant."

"Strange. Downright unsettling. Just how strong is that person?"

"No idea. But definitely far stronger than our illusionist."

The man in the iron helmet and suit finally stopped his foolish head-banging. He turned, walked stiffly to the sofa, and sat down in silence.

"...A troublesome opponent. We must hold our ground."

Opposite him sat a figure oozing a foul stench, wrapped head-to-toe like a mummy. Thick, viscous sludge seeped through the bandages. He resembled a certain Hero—but never mention that in his presence. Doing so would be fatal.

"Heh. My dear Section Chief," the bandaged man chuckled, "we lowly employees shouldn’t speak so boldly. Best not to tempt fate. Eating your own flag would be... embarrassing."

The iron-masked man slid open a mouth flap beneath his helmet and slowly poured tea down his throat.

"Section Chief... why did we do something so foolish back then? I barely remember. It’s almost laughable."

"Honestly, with your strength, you could’ve been high command, no?" the Bandage Guy murmured.

"High command?" The iron mask tilted. "Don’t you think our company’s name is idiotic? ‘Dispatch Company’? I joined on a whim. As for the rest... who knows? I don’t even know how long I’ll stay."

"Job-hopping? That’d suit our situation."

"Heh. We’ll see. If nothing changes, maybe I will. After all this time... I’ve lost all purpose. Everyone’s just fools. Heroes have rotted. They’re worthless now. Pathetic."

*Is there even a true Hero left in this world?*

"Hey. Your tea’s leaking everywhere."

The Bandage Guy pointed. Water dripped freely from beneath the iron helmet.

"Tch. What a mess... Years since that fight took my mouth. Still a wreck."

"That man, back then... It’s unbelievable."

*Truly unbelievable is this iron-masked man*, the Bandage Guy thought. *That he still lives is proof enough of his terrifying strength.*

"That battle with the Hero... It was exhilarating, wasn’t it?"

"Thrilling! Just remembering it sets my blood on fire!!"

*Crack. Crack—*

Muscles swelled beneath his suit. Bones shifted with audible snaps. His entire frame bulged unnaturally, like a demon straining against human limits.

"Every punch felt like etching lightning into my soul!!!"

"Whoa, you broke the cup... Say, you’re the only one still alive after facing him, right?"

"Heh. Luck. All luck. Wonder how he is now? Retired? Shocking. That beacon of hope... that legend... the man who held the title ‘Hero’ for so long. What’s he become?"

"Do you still want to fight him?"

"Is that even a question? This ugly existence... surviving like this... it’s the only reason I breathe."

*Click.* He snapped the metal mouthplate shut. *I’m still alive.*

"Your dream’s worth seeing through. I’ll cheer you on."

Excitement made sludge ooze from his bandages. *Ah... this feeling is pure bliss~*

"Just promise to shout loud when the time comes. I might miss it over the sound of my own applause."

"Count on it, brother."

---

"HELP MEEEEEE—"

Eira pounded on the elevator doors, screaming until her throat burned. No one came.

Phones dead. Alarms silent. Cameras dark. The entire elevator was powerless.

"Tch. No one’s coming." Zeming slumped beside her, sitting carelessly on the floor. "Power outages last ages. Lucky this space is big—won’t suck up all the oxygen too fast. You okay?"

Eira crouched in the corner, knees drawn tight to her chest. Her face was buried, refusing to look at him.

"Of course I’m fine."

"That’s not like you. You’re not scared of the dark. What’s wrong?"

"Don’t ask."

The more he pressed, the tighter she curled in on herself. *This is bad...*

"Seriously, are you alright?"

"F-fine! Just... stop asking!"

"If you’re unwell in this dark, airless box—"

Zeming reached out. Eira’s head snapped up. Her face was flushed crimson, eyes wide with fear.

"Are you really okay?"

"N-no... I..."

*Wait.* Zeming’s eyes dropped. *Oh no. I see it now.*

That flustered expression. Clenched thighs. Desperate, dignity-shattered eyes—the look of someone teetering on the edge.

"DON’T TOUCH ME!!!"

Her whole body trembled. Tears threatened to spill. *This is bad. Really bad.*

"This is rude to ask, but... are you—"

*No need to listen to her heartbeat. It’s obvious.*

"—desperate for a bathroom break?!"

"...DON’T SAY IT OUT LOUD~~~"

Her voice went soft. Weak.

Normally, she’d have punched him for that. But now, drained and trembling, she could only whisper her miserable confession.

Holding it in hurts your body," Zeming said gently.

"I SAID STOP!!!"

Her combat-trained fist connected with his jaw. The blow sent him flying, his brain spinning into darkness.