The neon lights of Haven flickered behind them as Kenshi and Aiko slipped through the back alleys, moving fast and keeping to the shadows. The Scavenger King wouldn’t take kindly to their betrayal, and Kenshi had no intention of sticking around for his wrath.


    “I told you honesty was a bad idea,” Aiko whispered, glancing over her shoulder. “Now we’ve got half the city wanting to skin us alive.”


    Kenshi remained silent, his expression grim as he adjusted the grip on his katana. “Better an honest enemy than a false ally.”


    Aiko snorted. “Yeah? Try telling that to the bounty hunters that’ll be on us by morning.”


    They ducked into an abandoned factory, its interior a labyrinth of rusted catwalks and broken machinery. Aiko scouted ahead, keeping her footsteps light. Kenshi followed, his senses sharp, feeling the weight of the decision they had made. He had walked the path of honor all his life, but in this world, honor felt like a relic—like him.


    Aiko crouched by a shattered window, peering out at the settlement beyond. “So, where to now? You think Haru’s intel is solid?”


    Kenshi nodded. “Edo’s Last Light is real. I can feel it.”


    Aiko glanced at him. “You feel it? Great. That’s real comforting.” She sighed. “But fine, I’ll trust your samurai instincts.”


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    Suddenly, the distant hum of engines rumbled through the night. Kenshi tensed, his hand instinctively finding the hilt of his blade. Aiko peeked out again and cursed under her breath.


    “We’ve got company,” she muttered. “And they don’t look friendly.”


    A squad of mercenaries, clad in scavenged armor and bristling with cybernetic enhancements, moved through the streets with purpose. Their leader, a towering brute with a robotic arm, barked orders to his crew.


    “Find them! The King wants their heads!”


    Kenshi’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t fight them all.”


    Aiko grinned. “Who said anything about fighting? Follow me.”


    She darted through the factory, leading Kenshi through a series of twisting corridors and rusted vents. Kenshi followed without hesitation, trusting her knowledge of the city. They emerged on a rooftop overlooking the sprawling wasteland beyond Haven.


    Aiko turned to him, breathless but grinning. “Okay, samurai. Time to decide. We make a run for it, or we try to shake these guys here?”


    Kenshi considered for a moment, scanning the terrain. “We run. But not without leaving a message.”


    He knelt down, pulling a scrap of cloth from his belt and slicing it clean with his blade. Dipping it in the grime of the rooftop, he marked a single kanji on the fabric—honor. He tied it around a rusted pipe before looking at Aiko.


    “They will know we were here. And they will know we do not run in fear.”


    Aiko rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Dramatic. But fine. Let’s move before they see your little work of art.”


    They descended from the rooftop and slipped through the outskirts of Haven, the wasteland stretching before them. Kenshi felt the weight of the journey ahead, but for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t alone.


    “Hey, Kenshi,” Aiko said as they walked. “You ever think about what happens if we actually find Edo’s Last Light?”


    Kenshi didn’t answer immediately. He gazed at the dark horizon, the wind carrying the distant hum of machines and the whispers of the past.


    “If it exists,” he said finally, “then I will defend it.”


    Aiko smirked. “Of course you will. Samurai to the end.”


    Kenshi allowed himself the smallest of smiles. “It is the only way I know.”


    As they disappeared into the wasteland, the neon lights of Haven fading behind them.