The door hissed open behind me.
Footsteps followed, slow, deliberate. Not the kind that marched or skulked. These sounded like they didn't care what they were walking into.
I turned.
The figure stepped through without hesitation, ducking slightly under the frame, more out of habit than necessity. No shirt. Just a wide-brimmed, battered hat casting shadows over a face that wasn't a face at all.
Ragged burlap. Threaded seams. Hollow, glowing pits where eyes should be. A mouth stitched in a grin that looked far too eager to be human.
A scarecrow that had learned how to breathe.
His arms were folded behind his neck, resting lazily across the length of a massive blade slung behind him. No rain guard. Just steel and handle. Long enough to reach the ground if he held it proper. But he didn't. He carried it like it was part of him. Like he didn't need to think about it.
The Executive glanced at him once. Not surprised. Just verifying.
"This," she said, tone flat, "is Jackal."
He didn't speak.
Didn't even blink.
Just gave a small, lopsided nod.
"Exalted-tier," she continued, walking past him like he wasn't something that made your skin crawl. "Awakened a month ago. Currently registered Silver Sigil. Assigned as your partner for this mission."
I stared at him for a moment.
He didn't return the look. Or maybe he did, it was impossible to tell through that stitched grin.
No aura. No tension.
And yet the room felt like it was trying not to breathe too loud.
Jackal didn't say a word.
But I could feel it.
He was dying to move.
The Executive stepped beside me, voice softer now.
"He's been kept off the records. Internal only. Fear-based system. Not exactly something you want wandering public terminals. His Form is permanent. He hasn't shifted back once since Awakening."
Still, he said nothing.
But the stitched smile felt wider somehow.
"He doesn't sleep. Doesn't eat. Doesn't even breathe the same way. And I'm sending him with you not because he's stable—"
She paused. Letting the weight of her words settle.
"But because I feel like neither of you really are."
There was no judgment in her voice. No edge. Just a simple, unflinching truth.
Then, more softly:
"You both have potential. High-tier abilities. Unusual compositions. If you're not already dangerous, you're both on your way."
She let that sit for a second.
"To be honest, I haven't seen anyone take out a Low Fracture verdict in their first mission. I don't know if that was luck, raw instinct, or something worse. But whatever it was… you're capable, Darian."
She turned to me, meeting my gaze without hesitation.
"You don't have to accept him. Jackal's presence is… difficult. He radiates fear. To anyone near him, it's like standing in a burning room with no exit. He can't turn it off. Most can't even be near him for long."
A breath.
"But if you're serious about the Expanse, about surviving what's out there, I think the two of you together might grow into something that actually comes back alive."
She gave a final nod. Not reassurance. Just finality.
Then she turned and walked past me.
The door slid shut behind her with a clean hiss.
Silence followed. Heavy. Intentional.
Jackal didn't move. Just stood there, sword now resting casually across his shoulders, head tilted like he was trying to see the edges of me.
I waited. One second. Two.
"...You always that quiet?" I asked, not expecting a response. Just cutting through the static.
He tilted his head slightly. Shrugged. Still didn't talk.
I added, casually. "Very well, I will not pry."
The stitched grin didn't change.
But the air did. He exhaled, slow and sharp, like metal cooling after a forge.
Then he spoke. Voice like cracked leather and smoke.
"The lady pisses me off."
It wasn't loud. But it echoed.
His tone wasn't angry. Wasn't anything, really.
Just… honest.
I raised a brow. "Why?"
He looked toward the door. Then back to me.
"She thinks too highly of herself, also asks weird questions."
I waited.
"Can you do this? Do you do that? It bothers me. That is why I just pretend I cannot talk."
Another beat. Then a grin, wider than before, somehow.
"I dislike annoying maggots."
I stared at him a second longer.
There was no madness in his voice. Not really.
Just something… unfiltered. Unbound.
I could feel the pressure of his passive now. The aura. That whispering dread that wrapped around thought like cold fingers.
It was sharp. Focused.
And it didn't work on me.
He seemed to realize that too. His head tilted again, this time with curiosity.
"Huh," he muttered. "You're not scared."
"Should I be?"
He grinned, tilting the sword slightly to let the weight fall into one hand.
"No," he said. "But I think most people would be. That's why they keep me locked up."
"And they're letting you out now because…?" I asked.
Jackal dragged the blade down, letting it rest lazily against the floor, edge first. It didn't ring. Didn't spark. Just settled, like a guillotine learning patience.
"Well, to be honest," he said, voice dry, like someone commenting on the weather, "this is a test. For you. Most likely."
I frowned. "A test?"
He nodded once, slow and deliberate, stitched grin unmoving.
"I heard what you did. They told me, since I wasn't about to be dragged into some mission with a spoiled Legendary-tier bastard."
He tilted his head, casually. The stitched smile didn't move, but something in the air shifted—just enough to notice.
"So they explained. Said you killed a Low Fracture-class creature."
He paused.
"That's not normal. For this world, anyway. If you ask me, I could've done it too."
I didn't answer. Just let the silence hold.
He continued, voice lowering slightly, almost thoughtful.
"The public version's already out. It says you fought a Verdict: High Severance beast. Barely lived. Sounds impressive. Makes for good PR."
A faint tilt of his head.
"But the real report? That's sealed."
His glowing eyes met mine. Curious now. Not challenging, just… watching.
"You didn't just kill it. You removed it. Like it was never real to begin with."
Then his tone shifted, just slightly, like a punchline was coming.
"Oh right," he added, as if remembering something trivial. "Considering I know what you did… just so you know—"
He yawned. One hand lazily lifted from his sword to mock-stretch his stitched mouth wider.
"—I killed three High Severance verdicts. Solo."
He let his blade fall against the floor again with a dull scrape, resting his weight into it like a cane.
"Didn't get a medal. Didn't want one."
He grinned wider.
"Just wanted to see if I could do it."
Pause.
"Turns out, I could."
He tapped his chin absently. "One of 'em even begged before the end. Thought that was cute. Apparently I could've made it my Soulbind. Seemed worthless for something that'd beg me."
Another shrug.
"They keep me locked up because I'm dangerous."
A beat passed. Then I nodded once, slow.
"You're insane."
Jackal tilted his head, like I'd just handed him a compliment wrapped in silk.
"Probably," he said. "But I'm also extremely good at what I do."
His stitched grin didn't move. But it felt like it got sharper.
I looked him over again. Sword. Hat. That face. That thing behind the grin.
This was going to be an interesting expedition.