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I slowly opened my eyes, staring absentmindedly at the metal frame supporting the upper bunk, and turned off the terminal’s alarm before it even rang.

José and Ian had already gone ahead to prepare, leaving only me in the room. As for what exactly they were "preparing" for, I had no idea, nor did I care to know.

All I needed to know was that today was the day of Luther’s execution.

I tapped my fingernails against the terminal a few times, trying to focus by keeping a steady rhythm. If the Admiral didn’t miraculously wake up, the pre-programmed scripts on the terminal would be triggered: disabling all anti-air firepower in the palace, summoning the Admiral’s private ship to bombard the execution grounds. At the same time, the terminals of everyone present would overheat and explode due to battery malfunctions, their weapons’ safety locks would engage, and they’d lose all gate access privileges.

A lot of people would likely die. It could even spark a civil war in the Empire.

Rubbing my eyes, I exhaled deeply, unsure if I should even care.

Was this what Luther would have wanted?

I had to admit, I didn’t know.

And I wasn’t sure about that Snow’s stance on all this either. He hadn’t given me enough clues at the time. What I was sure of was that if he decided to stop me, none of these plans would matter. But if that white wolf held a high-ranking position in the Praetorian Guards, even standing by and doing nothing would already be the best I could hope for. Besides, he didn’t seem to be too fond of Luther anyway.

What about the other psychics? Which Archdukes or their entourage could be psychics? How many might be in the palace? Only Archduke of Golden was relatively safe, but those with the most power in the Empire probably had at least a few of these special individuals at their side. Even if I knew where to get ammunition made of Adamanium alloy—like the vending machines in the hallway—it would cost all my savings, and I’d barely be able to buy a few rounds.

Sighing, I rested my hands by my sides, accepting that this was the limit of what I could do.

What “godlike” abilities? In the face of those who were truly like gods walking among us—the psychics—I was utterly powerless.

Still, that wasn’t a reason for me to just lie here and rot away.

I hadn’t attended any of the flogging sessions. I didn’t see the point in being there. But today, whether or not I could rescue Luther, I had to bear witness to the last moments of his life.

I sat up, strapped the terminal back to my arm, and started putting on my boots.

I wasn’t surprised to find myself trembling slightly. After all, I knew that courage and fear were two entirely separate things.

The gallows were not quite what I had imagined.

Then again, it made sense—Luther didn't have a collar, so naturally, it was different—a noose made of simple rope, straightforward and clear, almost brutally honest.

A gust of wind brushed over my head, causing my ears to twitch involuntarily. At the same time, I heard familiar footsteps. I turned around to see Ian emerging from the corner of the corridor.

"I thought you'd be with Luther," I said softly, casting a sidelong glance at the gallows in the square far away. "Where's José?"

"We were kicked out a few hours ago. Apparently, just hanging Luther was already the Senate's biggest concession." The large crossbreed walked up beside me, adopting the same position I had, leaning over the railing to look down. "As for José, he's still negotiating with the Senate delegation."

"Negotiating what?" I asked offhandedly, just to break the silence.

"No idea," the retriever shrugged. "Half of what José says, I can’t understand, and at least half of that is in the common tongue."

"Who would’ve thought that coyote had so many mysteries rattling around in his head?" I recalled José’s usual foolish behavior, and a smirk crept onto my lips.

"Exactly," Ian agreed. "And we didn’t know you had the ability to hack into the palace's security system."

I shrugged, indicating that it wasn’t a big deal. Ian's response was to place a small box between us and push it toward me.

When I reached for it, Ian laid his hand on top of mine.

"Not here," he said in a low voice.

"I’ve looped the recording system," I pointed to a nearby camera, trying to reassure the retriever. "That’s why I chose this spot."

Ian raised an eyebrow, turning his head slightly to carefully examine the spot I’d indicated.

"I bet the way you got your hands on this is quite the story too." I checked inside the box—a large-caliber handgun, alongside a row of bullets. I picked up one, inspecting the minute seam to confirm the material matched my suspicion. "Just the bullets alone are way beyond what your salary could afford, Ian."

"Then I won’t ask you how you know what this is or how much it costs." He straightened up and stretched, his joints cracking audibly. "Everyone has their past."

I glanced at the gun holstered at the retriever’s waist. It was the same model as the one in my hand, leading me to guess he probably had one ready for José too. Ian’s wealth certainly wasn’t ordinary, especially considering the challenge of getting this contraband into the palace.

"The current Archduke of Siberia is an Epsilon-level psychic. He can’t generate a defensive circle or use Domination." The crossbreed spoke in a low voice, glancing around the corridor. "But his bodyguard includes at least one Gamma-level psychic—one with heterochromatic eyes. That husky." The image of the husky immediately flashed in my mind, as his features were quite distinct. "If you're still counting on the Empire’s Gate for our escape plan, I think this investment is necessary." Ian rested his hand on his gun handle as he spoke.

"Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that," I replied as I loaded the bullets into the magazine, the sound of metal scraping against metal providing a strange sense of comfort. "But at least now, we have more options to increase our chances."

"I distinctly remember saying, ‘Don’t cause any trouble.’" The voice from behind sent me plunging into a cold, dark sea, every part of my body soaked and stiff, too slow to stop Ian from drawing his gun.

I knew it was over, so I placed everything from the small box back inside, raised my hands by my head, palms forward, and slowly turned around.

"Ian..." I warned softly, hoping he wouldn’t do anything rash.

But it wasn’t what I expected. The crossbreed seemed frozen, his fur standing on end, mouth agape in shock, holding his gun in a firing stance, but somehow stuck.

I shifted my gaze to the other side and saw the towering figure of Snow, and beside him, a smaller wolf. His fur was a pale shade of blond—likely one of Flash's member.

"Oh, so you know who I am." The tall wolf raised an eyebrow, his tone languid. "We’ll be holding on to this for now. Once..." His blue eyes flickered with hesitation but quickly continued. "…everything is settled, we'll return it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the two guns seemed to be pulled by invisible strings, floating over to the smaller wolf, who stored them in a metal box.

I kept my hands raised, not daring to make any sudden movements. Ian stayed still as well, though probably for a different reason.

"Your terminal, Fox." The towering Snow stepped forward, holding out a hand toward me.

My mind raced, but it was clear from his downward gaze that there was no room for negotiation. So, even though I didn’t understand why he didn’t just use some form of telekinesis like he had earlier, I still untied the strap on my right arm and handed over the terminal.

"Well?" Snow passed it to the smaller wolf, who connected it to a larger device with several cables. "I’ve got to say, ‘Wow.’ Even with ‘the key,’ this creativity is quite... remarkable."

A key—so it really is a key? Was the key planted by the Senate, or... was I looking at a high-ranking member of the railroad organization?

I squinted slightly, scrutinizing the smaller wolf. His pale yellow eyes darted over the terminal, his free hand moving quickly.

Still, Ian knew who Snow was. Maybe I could ask him about all of this later.

After some time, the blond wolf tilted his head, one ear folded as he glanced at me, then quickly looked away.

"It’s done, Master," he said to the tall white wolf, storing everything back into the metal briefcase.

Snow nodded slightly, and the smaller wolf bowed before disappearing down one of the corridors.

"Go say goodbye to your friend," the white wolf said, looking ready to leave. "If it comes to that."

"Are you telling us to stand by and do nothing?" Somehow, I found the courage to shout at his retreating figure, breaking through the suffocating pressure. "No matter what Luther deserves, this is too much!"

"This battle is beyond your capabilities. The mutt must prove his worth on his own," Snow replied without turning or slowing his pace toward the end of the corridor. "This has nothing to do with fairness, justice, responsibility, or even right and wrong."

A few minutes after Snow left, the oppressive atmosphere finally lifted. Forcing myself to breathe in a measured rhythm earlier left me feeling exhausted now that I could relax. I glanced at Ian, who wiped sweat from his forehead and slightly opened his mouth to catch his breath.

"So..." I chose not to interpret Ian’s state as shock and pretended to be calm. "Who was that?"

"Qana Snow," the crossbreed replied, scanning the nearby corridors as if worried someone else might appear. "He used to be the Empire’s greatest swordsman and the head of the Praetorian Guards, but that’s not his real identity." Ian turned around, leaning on the railing, lowering his snout. "He’s the Senate’s executioner."

"What do you mean?" I couldn’t help but glance at the gallows. "Are you saying he’s the one who’ll carry out the execution?" That made me feel even worse, though technically it didn’t make much of a difference.

"No... something that minor doesn’t require his presence." Ian chuckled bitterly, rubbing his head against his forearm. "Remember how I told you the wolves generally don’t interfere with worldly affairs?" He looked up, his eyes distant as they focused on the gallows. "When they do decide to intervene, Qana Snow is the one who shows up."

"Oh." That didn’t clear up much, but it was probably enough for now. "I had hoped he would act more according to his own stance."

"What do you mean?" Ian asked softly, his drooping ears swaying in the breeze.

"I suspect he’s the Admiral’s father." Though that wouldn’t necessarily work to our advantage, given how eager he seemed to skin Luther alive. "There’s something... oddly familiar about him."

"Well, that’s interesting." Ian stood up. "But I think what’s more important now is our next move."

I didn’t respond immediately, following his gaze to the gallows.

"I’m going." I clenched my fists, forcing my body to stay steady. "It’s something I have to do." Since no other options remained, I figured I didn’t have a choice. I gently ran a hand over the scab on my neck, hating myself for reaching this conclusion.

Shouldn't I throw myself into it, struggling and fighting with my claws and teeth? Only when they’ve ripped out my fangs and claws, leaving me powerless, lying in a pool of blood waiting for death—that’s when it would be time to give up!

But… I know that if I do that, I’ll lose more than just a friend.

“I’m going to witness Luther’s final moment,” I said, looking at Ian with the most sincere tone I could muster.

Ian met my gaze, his brown eyes full of conflict. I could see he wanted to say something, but his trembling jaw never managed to form the words. The large crossbreed stepped forward, placing a hand on my arm.

“I was supposed to take care of you… but I couldn’t… I can’t...” he bit down, as if enduring immense pain, but in the end, all that came out were broken words. The big dog hung his head in shame, eyes tightly shut. “I can’t do it!”

“It’s alright.” I took a step forward, placing my chin on Ian’s head and baring my throat to him, gently placing my other hand on his arm in return. “Everyone chooses their own way. José is probably trying to drown himself in a barrel of alcohol by now.” I wasn’t trying to judge the coyote, just lightening the mood.

“I can’t do it,” Ian softly pushed me away, shaking his head. Then he turned around, dragging his heavy steps as he left.

I didn’t chase after him, nor did I say anything more. Most of the times, all we can do is make our own choices.

Taking a deep breath, I lightly pressed the tips of my middle and index fingers against the bare patch of skin on my neck, feeling the steady rhythm of my pulse. That solid beat strengthened my resolve, allowing me to step forward and head down the stairs leading to the lower level.

And in those extremely rare moments, if you're lucky enough, perhaps the burden you must carry will be one that others are willing to help shoulder.