The Holder of Light

K.A.I. darted ahead to the end of the alley, his eyes scanning like a motion sensor. After a brief pause, he turned back to the others and gave a firm nod.

"Clear. No patrols within a two-block radius."

"Good. Let's move." Arion signaled with his hand, and the group began weaving through the shadowy corridors of Niagara.

Hanging lanterns swayed gently in the night breeze, casting long, dancing shadows across the brick walls.

In Arion's pocket, the miniature form of Nate's armor remained still—no glowing, no pulsing like before.

Time dragged on. Fifteen minutes... thirty... an hour.

"Nothing," Arion murmured, slowing down, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow despite the cold air.

"Maybe we took the wrong route?" Aria suggested, her voice laced with weariness.

"No. Nate should react when we're close," Arion replied, shaking his head.

After circling the same streets with no success, Arion stopped at a narrow intersection. His gaze dropped, clouded by frustration.

"That's it. We're going back to Wastu. This is a waste of—"

WHUMP.

Someone suddenly slammed into him. Hard.

A hunched figure in ragged clothes and a hood walked straight into Arion, almost knocking him over, then kept going without a word—never even looking up.

"Huh? Hey! You—wait!" Arion suddenly looked alarmed.

He quickly patted his coat, belt, chest—searching. His eyes widened in horror.

"Nate... and Gavrilo... they're gone!"

"WHAT!?" Aria gasped.

K.A.I. immediately bolted toward the hooded figure, who was already several meters away and turning a corner.

"You've got to be kidding me! We just got here!" Arion exclaimed, fumbling to activate his comm device.

"That's not some random street guy!" Nari shouted.

"Go after him—NOW!"

In an instant, the quiet recon mission transformed into a full-scale pursuit.

Whoever that figure was… they had made their move.

But the question remained:

Who were they—and why did they steal not one, but two legendary armors?