Hope led Andrey into a small restaurant tucked between two taller buildings—the kind of place you’d walk past a hundred times without noticing. The interior was warm, lit with soft yellow lamps, and smelled of grilled meat and herbs. A few other customers sat at scattered tables, their conversations a low, comfortable murmur.

They settled into a booth near the back, the wooden table worn smooth by years of use. Hope picked up the menu, her eyes scanning the options with an intensity that Andrey found almost amusing.

"Have you been here before?" he asked, picking up his own menu.

Hope nodded, not looking up. "A few times. Their lunch specials are the best. Generous portions, reasonable prices." She glanced at him over the menu, a small smile on her lips. "I figured you’d appreciate that."

Andrey’s lips twitched. "I’m not that frugal."

Hope raised an eyebrow. "You wore the same suit every day."

Andrey’s cheeks warmed slightly. He adjusted his glasses. "...That suit was perfectly adequate."

Hope laughed, the sound light and genuine. She set down her menu and signaled to a passing waiter. "We’ll have two lunch specials. And extra rice."

The waiter nodded and disappeared.

Andrey stared at her. "Extra rice?"

Hope leaned back, unbothered. "I’m hungry. Fighting demons burns a lot of calories."

The food arrived quickly—steaming plates of grilled fish, vegetables, rice, and miso soup. The portions were generous, just as Hope had promised. Andrey picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of the fish. It was perfectly cooked, flaky and flavorful, seasoned with something he couldn’t quite identify.

"This is good," he said, genuinely surprised.

Hope was already halfway through her rice. "Told you."

Andrey watched her eat for a moment, noting the speed with which she demolished her meal. It wasn’t dainty or delicate. It was the efficient eating of someone who had learned to fuel up quickly between battles.

"You eat fast," he observed.

Hope swallowed, unapologetic. "When you’re on active duty, you learn to eat fast. You never know when the next alarm will ring."

Andrey nodded slowly, understanding. He took another bite of his own food, chewing thoughtfully.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the restaurant filling the space between them. The waiter came by to refill their tea, and Hope ordered another serving of rice.

Andrey raised an eyebrow. "You really weren’t joking about the calories."

Hope shrugged, her cheeks slightly flushed. "I have a high metabolism."

When the plates were finally cleared, Andrey leaned back, pleasantly full. He hadn’t expected to enjoy the meal this much or the company.

Hope set down her teacup, her expression growing more thoughtful. "So. Leto’s offer. What are your initial thoughts?"

Andrey was quiet for a moment, turning the question over in his mind. "It’s a lot to process. Operating off the books, outside Association oversight... that comes with risks."

Hope nodded. "It does. But it also comes with freedom. The Association is slow. Bureaucratic. By the time they approve an investigation, the trail is cold. Leto’s task force would be able to move faster. Respond to threats before they escalate."

Andrey studied her face. "You seem to trust him."

Hope met his gaze. "I do. Leto isn’t like other guild leaders. He doesn’t care about fame or political power. He genuinely wants to protect the city. And he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen."

"That’s what worries me," Andrey said quietly. "People who are willing to do ’whatever it takes’ often end up crossing lines they can’t uncross."

Hope’s expression softened. "I know. But Leto isn’t like that. He has lines. He just... draws them in different places than the Association does."

Andrey was silent for a long moment, his internal thoughts churning. ’She believes in him. And she’s not naive. If Hope trusts Leto, maybe I should at least consider the offer seriously.’

"I’ll talk to my team," he said finally. "We’ll decide together."

Hope smiled, relieved. "That’s all I ask."

The waiter brought the check, and Andrey reached for it. Hope grabbed his wrist.

"I invited you. I’ll pay."

Andrey shook his head. "You’re always helping us. Let me cover this."

Hope’s eyes narrowed playfully. "Are you trying to impress me, Mr. Thompson?"

Andrey’s ears turned pink. "I’m trying to be polite."

Hope released his wrist, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. "Fine. But next time, I’m paying."

Andrey picked up the check, his heart beating a little faster than it should have.

Then, Hope’s eyes snapped toward the window, wide and sharp.

"Everyone, get down!"

Andrey didn’t hesitate. He dropped to the floor, his body moving on instinct, years of fighting sharpening his reflexes. Around him, other patrons looked up in confusion, chopsticks frozen mid-air.

Then the wall exploded.

The shockwave shattered glass, sent tables flying, and tore through the restaurant like a beast through paper. Debris and dust billowed outward, choking the air. People screamed.

Hope was already moving.

She leaped in front of the blast, her body intercepting the worst of it. Her arms crossed in front of her face, her feet digging into the floor as the force of the explosion pushed against her. Andrey saw her clothes tear, saw debris bounce off her skin but she didn’t fall.

"What—what was that?!" a man shouted, scrambling backward.

"Attack! We’re under attack!" a woman shrieked.

"Run! Run!"

Pandemonium erupted. Patrons clawed their way toward the back exit, shoving past each other in their desperation to escape. Someone tripped; another person stepped over them without looking back.

Andrey pushed himself upright, ignoring the ache in his ribs. His eyes swept the room, cataloging the damage, the exits, the injured.

"Calm down!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Everyone, stay calm! Head toward the back exit! Don’t push! Move in an orderly fashion!"

Some of them listened. Others kept shoving. But his voice gave them direction, a focal point in the madness.

A man grabbed Andrey’s sleeve, his face pale with terror. "The heroes—someone call the heroes!"

Andrey yanked his arm free gently but firmly. "Heroes are already here. Now move. Get to safety."

Hope had already leaped through the hole in the wall, her hands raised, golden light blazing from her palms. Andrey caught a glimpse of her outside, radiant energy flaring as she struck out with her bare fists before debris blocked his view.

He turned back to the panicked crowd, herding them toward the exit.

"Go! Don’t stop! Keep moving!"

Hope’s hands blazed with golden light, each strike sweeping through another wave of faceless black monsters. Their bodies dissolved on contact, ichor sizzling against her radiant palms. But more kept coming—pouring from a rift that had torn open in the middle of the street, their eyeless faces turned toward the fleeing civilians.

Andrey stood at the edge of the chaos, his back to the restaurant’s shattered wall, watching the last of the stragglers disappear into the alley. His voice cut through the noise. "Hope! Everyone’s clear!"

Hope didn’t turn, but her shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Good work, Andrey!"

She raised her hand high, golden energy gathering in her palm. "VALKYRIE MODE, ENGAGE!"

Light exploded from her body. When it faded, her casual clothes were gone, replaced by gleaming silver-white armor that hugged her form. A winged helm materialized over her face, and from the sky above, a massive greatsword plummeted, its blade humming with radiant energy.

The impact shook the ground. Cracks spiderwebbed across the asphalt. The faceless monsters screeched, stumbling back.

Hope reached up and pulled the greatsword from the earth with one hand. It was nearly as tall as she was, but she wielded it like an extension of her own body.

"Now," she murmured, "let’s finish this."

She moved.

Her first swing carved through three monsters at once. The second sent a shockwave of golden light rippling down the street, obliterating everything in its path. Her speed was blinding, her strikes precise. Each movement flowed into the next—a dance of death that left no room for counterattack.

Andrey watched from behind a broken car, his hand resting on his katana’s hilt, but he didn’t draw.

’She’s incredible,’ he thought. ’Easily handling enemies that would take our whole team to manage. I’d just get in her way.’

The faceless monsters were thinning. Hope’s greatsword carved through the last cluster, and for a moment, the street fell silent.

Then Andrey felt it.

A presence. Cold. Familiar. The same oppressive weight he’d felt in the observatory, in the moments before everything went wrong.

His blood ran cold.

’Behind me.’

He spun, hand flying to his katana but he was too slow.

A massive claw wrapped around his torso, lifting him off the ground. The world blurred as he was yanked backward, toward a swirling purple rift that had opened silently behind him. His fingers scrabbled for grip, but the creature’s grip was iron.

"Andrey!" Hope’s voice, distant and panicked.

The last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him was Hope’s armored form sprinting toward him, her greatsword raised, her face hidden behind her helm but her terror palpable.

Then the rift snapped shut.