Halochassis

Shin had been waiting for nearly ten minutes in the coffee shop, his patience thinning with every slow tick of the wall clock behind the counter. The place smelled of roasted beans and warm milk, the air thick with a faint sweetness that clung to his tongue. Outside the tall glass windows, the medieval skyline of Luminous City stretched into view—stone buildings with arched windows, banners swaying lazily in the breeze, and narrow cobblestone streets already busy with the morning crowd. Horses clopped against the pavement, their hooves echoing faintly through the glass, mixing with distant chatter and the occasional vendor’s call.

He drummed his fingers against the wooden table, the surface smooth but slightly sticky from years of use. With nothing better to do, his gaze wandered aimlessly—until it caught on a newspaper resting on the counter. The front page displayed the face of a beautiful blonde elf, her sharp features and calm, confident expression practically glowing even through cheap ink. Her eyes seemed to look straight at him.

That was enough to pull him out of his boredom.

Shin stood, grabbed the newspaper, and returned to his seat, the chair scraping softly against the floor. He took a slow sip of his café macchiato, the bitter coffee layered with creamy foam, before unfolding the paper. The pages crackled faintly in his hands.

”The Celestial Wardens raided a Demon-creation factory led by Doctor Steiner,” Shin read aloud, his voice low but clear.

His eyes scanned the rest of the front page. There they were—assembled together in a single image. The Celestial Wardens. Each of them stood tall, weapons gleaming, expressions unwavering. At the center was the blonde elf from earlier—Lireina—her presence commanding even in print.

The Celestial Wardens were more than just adventurers. They were legends. Ten years ago, they had defeated the Demon King and ended a war that nearly destroyed the world. Even now, they continued to hunt down the remnants of the Demon King’s army, wiping out demons wherever they appeared. Because of them, cities like Luminous remained safe, their walls standing strong against the darkness beyond.

Shin lingered on Lireina’s image a little longer than necessary.

”Still fancying your ultimate crush, Lireina, huh?”

The voice came from behind him—familiar, slightly teasing.

Shin looked up and saw a tall, pale man approaching the table. Despite his almost sickly complexion, his build was undeniably strong, his frame broad and well-defined beneath his clothes. His green eyes carried a sharp, knowing look.

”Manny,” Shin said simply.

”That’s Professor Emmanuel Gagarin if we’re in public,” the man replied with a tired sigh.

Emmanuel pulled out the chair across from Shin and sat down, adjusting his posture as if he were about to give a lecture. He raised a hand to call the waitress, his movements precise and practiced, and ordered a cup of coffee in a calm, measured tone.

Shin couldn’t help but grin, shaking his head slightly. ”You really don’t change, Manny. Still trying to act formal even when you’re with your best friend.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. ”That’s probably why nobody likes you.”

”Out of all the people who could say that, you have the nerve.” Emmanuel smiled back, unfazed, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. ”You haven’t changed either.” His gaze flicked down to the newspaper in Shin’s hands before returning to his face. ”Still completely head over heels for one of the Celestial Wardens.”

Shin didn’t deny it.

He just took another slow sip of his coffee, letting the warmth settle in his chest as his eyes drifted back to Lireina’s image.

”Well, what can I say?” Shin lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug, though the small grin tugging at his lips gave him away. He leaned back in his chair, letting it creak softly beneath his weight. ”Lireina is basically a goddess. She’s strong, smart, kind, elegant...” He tapped the folded newspaper lightly against the table for emphasis. ”And beautiful. The perfect woman.”

He let out a quiet breath, almost dreamy.

”I’d honestly apply to be her dog the moment I see her in person. My resume and collar are ready.”

Across from him, Emmanuel paused mid-sip. The rim of the cup hovered just beneath his lips before he slowly lowered it, the faint clink of porcelain against the saucer breaking the moment.

”Considering she’s an elf,” Emmanuel said dryly, ”she’s probably a thousand years old by now.” He leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other with deliberate composure. ”You’ve had a crush on that hag since we were kids.”

The word hag hung in the air like an insult that refused to settle. Shin’s smile twitched.

He carefully folded the newspaper, smoothing the edges with more force than necessary, the paper crackling under his fingers. Then he cleared his throat, straightening in his seat as if resetting the conversation entirely.

”Ahem.” His tone shifted, more controlled now. ”Let’s set aside your slander against my heroine for the moment.” He placed the folded paper neatly on the table between them. ”Let’s get to the main topic.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity sharpening his expression.

”Why did you call me here?”

For a brief moment, Emmanuel didn’t answer.

The noise of the coffee shop seemed louder in the silence—the low hum of conversations, the hiss of steaming milk behind the counter, the clatter of cups being stacked. A couple at the next table laughed softly, completely unaware of the shift in tone just a few feet away.

Emmanuel’s gaze drifted around the room, slow and cautious. His sharp green eyes scanned each corner—the barista, the customers, the door—lingering just a second longer than normal, as if measuring the risk of being overheard.

Then he leaned forward.

”Our laboratory was infiltrated,” Emmanuel said quietly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. ”Bandits broke in... and stole a top-secret weapon.”

Shin blinked, the words taking a second to sink in.

”What?”

”Sssshh!” Emmanuel shot him a sharp look, raising a finger slightly. ”Keep your voice down.” His tone tightened, urgency slipping through his usual calm demeanor. ”This is classified information.”

Shin exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. He leaned in as well, lowering his voice to match.

”...Alright.” His brows furrowed. ”So what’s so special about this weapon?”

Emmanuel hesitated for a fraction of a second, then shook his head.

”Well... it’s not technically a weapon.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded document, the paper thicker than the newspaper, its surface crisp and official. As he placed it on the table, the bold label at the top caught Shin’s eye immediately:

HC-01

”Halochassis,” Emmanuel said, tapping the document lightly. The name carried a certain weight, like something not meant to be spoken casually. ”It’s a highly advanced magitech armor... powered entirely by life energy.”

Shin leaned closer, his curiosity now fully hooked.

Emmanuel lowered his voice even further, his words steady but laced with quiet intensity.

”And it’s built using mechanized scales of fallen angels.”

Shin flipped through the files, the stiff pages whispering against each other as his fingers moved. Diagrams, notes, fragments of schematics—most of it dense and technical, but enough to give him a rough idea of what he was dealing with. The faint scent of ink and parchment mixed with the lingering aroma of coffee, grounding him in the moment.

”So,” Shin said, eyes still scanning the documents, ”any hints about who took these... huge chunks of armor?”

Emmanuel rested his elbow on the table, his fingers lightly touching the side of his cup as thin wisps of steam curled upward. ”The Empyrean police suspects a group called the Iron Bandits,” he said. His tone was calm, but there was a subtle tension beneath it. ”Unfortunately, the armor is highly classified. It’s supposed to remain within Empyrea at all costs.”

He paused, glancing briefly at the surrounding tables again.

”The kingdom isn’t willing to risk exposing that kind of information,” he continued. ”So they’re hesitant to assign this to ordinary adventurers.”

Shin let out a quiet breath through his nose and finally lowered the file. He leaned back slightly, rubbing the back of his neck as if already feeling the weight of the task.

”And that’s why you came to me,” he said, a faint, forced smile forming. ”A private investigator who works best in the shadows.”

He tapped the folder lightly against the table.

”This is going to take time,” he added. ”A lot of legwork. Asking around, tracking rumors...” His gaze drifted toward the window, where the bustling streets of Luminous City carried on in ignorant peace. ”It might even affect my attendance at the Librarium.”

Emmanuel didn’t hesitate.

”You’re the only one I trust with this,” he said firmly. His voice was low, but the sincerity in it cut through the noise of the café. ”And I’ll pay you double your usual rate.”

The words hung between them.

Shin closed his eyes for a brief second, exhaling slowly. The promise of money, the danger, the secrecy—it all pressed in at once. When he opened them again, his expression had settled into reluctant acceptance.

”...Fine,” he muttered. ”But no promises.” He raised a finger slightly, setting his condition. ”And I reserve the right to walk away if this gets too dangerous.”

Emmanuel gave a small nod. ”That’s fair.”

He straightened in his seat and extended his hand across the table.

”Just tell me whatever you find.”

Shin looked at the offered hand for a moment before reaching out. Their palms met, firm and familiar, the grip of two people who had known each other for years.

Then—

A sharp, unnatural sound split the air.

It was like fabric tearing—but louder, harsher, as if the wind itself had been ripped apart.

A violent pressure slammed through the café. The glass windows shattered in an instant, exploding inward with a deafening crash. Shards scattered like glittering rain, catching the light for a fraction of a second before slicing into wood, walls—people.

Before Shin could react, something green and jagged shot past him.

A spear.

It moved too fast—just a blur of emerald spikes cutting through the air with a shrill, piercing whistle.

Then came the warmth.

A sudden, wet spray splattered across Shin’s face.

He froze.

Time seemed to fracture into slow, disjointed pieces.

In one heartbeat, he was still shaking Emmanuel’s hand.

In the next—

He was holding something else.

Shin’s eyes lowered, almost mechanically.

The hand in his grip... wasn’t attached to anything anymore.

Blood dripped from the severed wrist, warm and thick, running over his fingers and pooling onto the table.

His breath caught.

Slowly—too slowly—he turned his head.

There, just a few feet away, Emmanuel’s body was pinned against the floor, completely impaled by the massive green spear. The jagged weapon had punched straight through him, its spiked edges slick with dark, glistening blood. His expression was frozen, eyes wide, as if he hadn’t even had time to process what happened.

The café erupted.

A woman screamed—a sharp, piercing sound that snapped the world back into motion. Chairs toppled over. People scrambled, knocking into tables, slipping on broken glass as they rushed for the exits. The once warm, comforting space dissolved into chaos in seconds.

But Shin didn’t move.

He stood there, trembling slightly, still gripping the severed hand.

His mind refused to catch up with what his eyes were seeing.

The smell of iron filled the air.

And all he could do... was stare.

Then—

A figure stepped through the chaos as if it didn’t exist.

A man with long, flowing green hair and sharp green eyes emerged from the shattered entrance, fragments of glass crunching softly beneath his boots. His presence was immediate—heavy, almost suffocating—like the air itself bent around him. He wore layered eastern garments that swayed with each step, embroidered with subtle patterns that caught the light. Over them rested pieces of jagged, spiky armor, dark and scaled, resembling the hide of a dragon. The edges looked dangerous, as if they could cut skin just by brushing against it.

He was tall—easily two meters—and carried himself with a relaxed, almost lazy confidence that clashed violently with the destruction around him.

He walked straight past Shin.

So close that Shin could feel the faint rush of air as the man moved by, could catch the scent of metal and something faintly smoky clinging to him. The man lifted a hand and scratched the side of his neck casually, as if he had just wandered into a quiet street instead of a massacre.

Shin’s eyes widened, recognition dawning through the shock.

It was one of the Celestial Wardens—

Qinglong, the Ultimate Dragon Warrior.

A living legend. One of the heroes who had defeated the Demon King ten years ago... now standing in the middle of a ruined café like this was nothing more than an inconvenience.

”Ah... crap,” Qinglong muttered under his breath, his tone mildly annoyed rather than alarmed. ”I missed.”

Missed.

The word echoed in Shin’s head, hollow and absurd.

Qinglong walked over to Emmanuel’s body without hesitation. The massive green spear still pinned him to the ground, its jagged edges embedded deep into flesh and wood alike. With one hand, Qinglong gripped the shaft and yanked it free.

The sound—

Wet.

Thick.

A sickening tear followed as the weapon slid out, dragging blood along with it. More spilled onto the floor, spreading into a dark, glossy pool that reflected the broken light from above.

”I’m sorry,” Qinglong said flatly, glancing down at the corpse as if offering an afterthought. ”Hand slipped.”

No remorse. No pause. Nothing.

Just outside the shattered remains of the café, movement caught his attention.

A demon—large, striped, and monstrous—stood upright like a man. Its body resembled a tiger, muscles coiled beneath its fur, its claws digging into the cobblestone street. Its eyes gleamed with feral intelligence, and its chest heaved as if it had narrowly escaped death.

The moment Qinglong’s gaze landed on it, the creature sprang back, leaping away with explosive force. Its claws scraped against stone, leaving faint gouges as it bounded down the street, disappearing into the chaos of fleeing civilians.

”Hey—get back here!”

Qinglong’s voice rang out, sharp and irritated.

He spun his spear in one smooth motion, the weapon cutting through the air with a low hum. Then, without another glance at the café—or the people inside—he bent his knees and launched himself forward.

The ground cracked beneath the force of his jump.

In a single blur of green and steel, he was gone—chasing after the fleeing demon, leaving only wind and silence in his wake.

And just like that...

He disappeared.

The café fell into a strange, broken quiet.

Shin remained where he stood.

His ears rang faintly, drowning out the distant screams and footsteps outside. The world felt distant, unreal, like he was watching everything through a layer of glass.

His clothes were soaked. Warm. Sticky.

The metallic scent of blood clung to him, filled his lungs with every shallow breath.

And in his hand—

Still—

Emmanuel’s severed hand.

His fingers trembled as the realization finally forced its way through the fog in his mind. Slowly, his gaze dropped, locking onto it again—the pale skin, the slack fingers, the dark blood dripping steadily onto the floor.

A sharp jolt ran through him. His stomach twisted violently.

With a sudden, panicked motion, Shin flung it away. The hand hit the ground with a dull, sickening thud, sliding slightly across the blood-slick floor before coming to a stop.

For a split second, he just stared at it.

Then everything hit him at once.

The shock. The horror. The rage.

”Fuuuuuuuuuck!”