The warm breeze of the evening drifted lazily through the narrow alley, weaving its way between Nyxander and the sisters. As if nature itself were holding its breath, a weak, swirling tornado, no stronger than a playful dust devil, spun between them, its gentle whistle slicing through the suffocating silence. The tension was so thick, it seemed even the air dared not move without permission.

Locked in a silent standoff, both sides stared at each other, their gazes sharp enough to draw blood. The eldest of the sisters, her posture firm and commanding, finally broke the silence. "Who are you, and why are you here?" she demanded, her voice tinged with suspicion and annoyance, like a blade laced with venom.

Nyxander's eyes glinted with amusement, a faint smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Hah… About that," he said, his tone casual but laced with steel, "why don't you ask your sister who brought you my money?" His hand flicked lazily toward the sack clutched tightly in the third sister's grip.

The second sister's face twisted with anger, her eyes flashing like lightning before a storm. "Why should we give you that when you took what belongs to us?" she snapped, her voice as sharp as the daggers at her side. She thrust her hand toward Nyxander, then jerked it toward the alley's exit. "Now get out of here."

Nyxander's smirk darkened, his cool gaze now simmering with the faintest flicker of rage. "Sorry, but nobody tells me what to do… not even the Astro Lord," he replied, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

The eldest sister's eyes narrowed, her knuckles whitening around her daggers. "Then don't blame us for what comes next," she hissed, raising her blades across her face like a shield. She didn't need to give further instructions. "Sisters."

At her call, the other two women's eyes shifted, sharp and ready, without so much as turning their heads. "Let's round this up quickly," she commanded, her voice a low growl. "Yes." And like wolves descending on prey, the three sisters charged forward in perfect synchrony.

The eldest leapt high, her figure a dark blur against the fading evening light as she landed atop a short building to their right. Meanwhile, the second sister surged ahead on the ground, with the third sister shadowing her every step.

The second sister closed the distance with deadly speed, her right dagger slashing toward Nyxander's left cheek. But Nyxander, calm as ever, dipped his head with the grace of a dancer, letting the blade sail harmlessly past his skin. Before he could straighten, the second sister's left dagger came whipping upward, slicing through the air toward his lower jaw.

Nyxander didn't flinch. Playing along with her aggression, he bent his back with fluid precision, his head rising just enough for the blade to graze the space where his chin had been mere moments before. The dagger sang through the air, inches from his face, but Nyxander's expression remained untouched, almost bored.

But then, in a blur of motion, the second sister leapt back, revealing the third sister now lunging forward, her daggers glinting under the moonlight.

Nyxander's lips curled into a faint smile, but before he could shift his focus, a shadow descended from above. The eldest sister, charging from the rooftop, came crashing down toward his left, her twin daggers slashing in a scissor-like motion aimed directly at his neck.

Nyxander's eyes flicked to the side, catching her mid-air descent. With a swift squat, he dodged the lethal strike, the blades slicing through empty space. The eldest sister landed gracefully to his right, her knees bent, her back to Nyxander in a position that radiated both danger and grace.

But only for a breath, Their gazes locked, her eyes blazing with frustration as Nyxander's smiling face greeted her like an unwanted guest. She gripped her left dagger backward, the handle fitting snugly into her palm, and In one seamless movement, she spun backward, the blade slicing through the air like fabric torn by a sharp edge, aimed directly for Nyxander's face.

But Nyxander was already rising, his body shifting smoothly to the right, just enough to let the dagger slice harmlessly past him. The eldest sister, refusing to lose her momentum, let the force of her missed strike carry her into a roll, retreating to the spot where Nyxander had first entered the alley, her movements seamless and precise.

Now Nyxander stood at the center, flanked by danger on all sides, the second and third sisters to his left, and the eldest regaining her footing to his right.

Just as he found his balance, the third sister hurled a dagger at him with terrifying speed. Nyxander bent his upper body at the last moment, feeling the blade's sharp wind graze his neck as it passed. But the fight wasn't over yet.

The thrown dagger continued its deadly arc toward the eldest sister, who intercepted it mid-spin, stopping it with a clang of metal against her own blade, causing it to spin around her dagger like a metallic dance. With a flick of her wrist, she hurled it back with even more force.

Nyxander's eyes followed the returning blade, but with a nonchalant sidestep, he let it pass harmlessly. The third sister caught it mid-air, her face slick with sweat, her breathing heavy.

The alley fell into an unstable silence, the kind that precedes either resolution or chaos. The three sisters stood poised, their daggers gripped tight, sweat dripping from their brows like beads of tension. Their breathing had grown heavier, but their determination hadn't wavered. Their eyes flicked to Nyxander, who stood at the center of it all, as calm and collected as if this were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

The eldest sister finally broke the silence, her voice laced with both curiosity and frustration. "Who precisely are you? You haven't made a single move."

Nyxander stood at the heart of their deadly triangle, his posture relaxed, as if the entire encounter were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. He raised his hands sideways, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement, as his calm gaze shifted from sister to sister. "That's because…" he said, his voice smooth as silk, "…I haven't been motivated to move."

His gaze drifted lazily between the sisters, calm, collected, and dangerously unreadable, as if he were a predator merely toying with its prey. His words hung in the air, thick with unspoken promise, like the calm before an inevitable storm. The sisters, sensing the shift in energy, braced themselves, their muscles coiling in anticipation of an attack that might come at any moment. But instead of striking, Nyxander's smile only grew wider, a silent challenge that sent a ripple of unease through the tense atmosphere.

Meanwhile, just a few meters away from the unfolding confrontation, Kal, Bako, and Bili were locked in their own frantic search for their missing leader. Kal stormed into every shop he passed, his eyes swiveling like a hawk's, scanning every corner with feverish determination. His movements were rough and impatient, little careful shoving aside anyone who dared block his path.

"Boss! Boss!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the din of the bustling district. Without missing a beat, he leapt through shop windows, vaulting effortlessly onto rooftops, his boots thudding against the tiles as he sprinted from building to building. "Boss! Boss!" His voice echoed down the narrow streets, but there was no response, only the murmur of the crowd and the distant clatter of carriages.

Bako, striding across the crowded walkways, navigated the chaos with equal urgency. He jumped over moving carriages, his feet barely touching the ground as he dashed into restaurants and inns, his sharp eyes flickering with growing concern. "Boss! Boss!" he called out, his voice ringing through the doorways of each establishment, only to be met with confused stares and shaking heads.

Bili, ever the silent one, chose a different approach. He moved through the shadowed alleyways, places so quiet and insulated they seemed forgotten by time. The dark corners swallowed his voice as he whispered Nyxander's name, his footsteps barely making a sound against the cobblestone. But still, there was no sign of their leader.

This frantic search continued for close to thirty minutes, their desperation mounting with each passing second. Finally, as if drawn together by some invisible thread, the three men converged at a wide walkway, their faces slick with sweat and their expressions marked with frustration. They nodded at each other, the silent gesture a universal sign of failure.

Kal exhaled sharply, his frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw. "Since we've already combed through the district," he said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion, "let's go back to where we first lost track of him. Then we'll check every walkway and alley thoroughly. I'm sure that'll guide us to him."

Just as they prepared to set off again, Bako chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Why the struggle?" he asked, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of truth. "Boss isn't someone we, or even Theodric, can mess with, let alone those rogue fighters here." His lips curled into a confident grin. "Boss can take care of himself. We just need to have a little faith in him."

Kal turned toward Bako, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. His eyes sparkled with a mix of respect and mischief. "You're getting me wrong," Kal said, his voice lowering into a conspiratorial tone. "Rather than seeing it as me trying to protect him…" He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. "…why don't you see it as me trying to learn some of his tricky moves?"

The three of them shared a brief, knowing laugh, the tension of their search melting into camaraderie. The weak light of the fading daylight dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets as night began to settle over the district.

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