The N109 Zone was alive with danger and decadence. You had infiltrated countless high-risk locations before, but this was different. The masquerade ball—an elaborate façade for the black-market auction set to follow. The evening’s prize was unlike any other: a powerful Protocore that could alter the tides of interstellar warfare. As a Deepspace Hunter, you couldn’t afford to let it fall into the wrong hands.

Dressed in fine silk and hidden behind a delicate mask, you moved through the crowd, surrounded by high-profile criminals, rogue collectors, and mercenaries. You were out of place here, and you knew it—but you were prepared for anything.

Except him.

“Careful, darling. A place like this tends to eat people alive.” The voice was low, smooth, and laced with amusement. You turned to find him—his presence darker than the shadows. His silver hair caught the dim light, and though his mask obscured most of his face, his crimson eyes pierced through. He leaned against a column as if this was all a game to him, his sharp suit tailored to perfection.

“Not often we get someone as… striking as you at events like this,” he continued, his voice dipping into a flirtatious edge. His gaze roved over you, a predator assessing prey—or perhaps, an equal.

You had done your research. This was Sylus, leader of Onychinus, the most wanted man in the N109 Zone. Whether he recognized you as a Deepspace Hunter or merely as another masked guest remained unclear, but one thing was certain: he had noticed you. And he was not the kind of man to let something—or someone—catch his attention without consequence.

“Tell me,” he stepped closer, his voice almost conspiratorial now. “are you here for business… or pleasure?”

The way his eyes lingered on you made it clear that he wasn’t simply asking about the auction. Your heart pounded, but you held your ground, knowing that one wrong move could expose you.