It’s eight o’clock. The black van of the Vance Night Agency cruises along one of the elevated streets of the downtown district, where traffic is moderate and there’s hardly any need to overtake other vehicles. The landscape is quintessential metropolis: soaring skyscrapers, glowing billboards, and neon lights everywhere. Axel Vance is at the wheel, wearing his signature blazer. In the back, his brothers, Lewis and Andrew, are checking their phones, verifying the intel LENA—their older sister and AI—provided minutes ago.

  “So, these plants are more delicate,” Lewis says, staring at an image of moth orchids on his screen.

  “And these, called vrieseas, need watering every forty-eight hours,” Andrew adds, looking at a plant with sword-shaped leaves and a bright red central spike.

  “Don’t forget the hydrangeas also need fertilizer at a specific time,” LENA interjects through her avatar on the auxiliary screen. “A single mistake will cost you hundreds of credits.”

  “That’s a lot to memorize. What a pain.” Andrew stretches his arms and leans back in his seat. “Which round is this?”

  “The fourth,” Lewis replies. “We have time for one more before we reach upper Neo-Aureborn.”

  “Why don’t we just use our phones?” Axel asks. “We can look up how to care for them whenever we want.”

  “Because exercising your memory is good for you, and we need to coordinate to avoid mistakes.”

  “I still find it hard to believe a guy with that much money asked us to watch his greenhouse,” Andrew says.

  “The services he hired previously attempted to sabotage him,” LENA explains, pulling up a series of news reports on the auxiliary screen about high-society residents suing private gardeners. “An important gardening competition is coming up, and many participants resort to foul play to gain an edge. They aren’t afraid to target the elite.”

  “Good thing there isn’t a race of plant-people, or those contests would be buried in lawsuits.”

  “Or a whole lot of support,” Axel quips.

  “I have bad news,” LENA announces. “Access to the zone is restricted for today.”

  “So what?” Lewis fires back. “We have our client’s permit.”

  “The client is an elder man. It will take him time to sort out the paperwork with the guards. You should have shown up earlier.”

  “Our agency only works at night; we haven’t broken that rule once,” Axel declares with a proud smirk.

  “Even old-timers know their way around technology,” Andrew says. “It shouldn't be much of a problem. But you’re right, better to have a backup plan.”

  “Should we call her?” Lewis asks. “Her place is on the way; we can pick her up.”

  “It’s not her bedtime yet, and for some reason, she’s fascinated by this stuff. I’m sure she’ll help us.”

  It’s nine o’clock. The Vance van arrives at a place that could be a different world within Neo-Aureborn. Although the architecture isn’t far off from other residential areas, the facades look flawless compared to the city average; the windows practically gleam, even in the dark. The lampposts feature an artisanal design, a far cry from the generic models in the rest of the districts. The sidewalks showcase hypnotic mosaic patterns, and the roads exude elegance thanks to their smooth, well-maintained pavement.

  Most of the houses, two stories or higher, have gardens filled with colorful plants that the Vances don't even recognize. Their metal fences display intricate patterns and sculptures on the spikes. The more pretentious residents leave their expensive, late-model cars or motorcycles in plain sight at the entrances.

  "Wow, I can't believe we’re here," Andrew says, marvelling at the ostentatious scenery.

  "It’s amazing how they keep it so clean," Axel agrees, sharing his wonder.

  "It’s partly because of them," Lewis points out through the window.

  Cruising along the sidewalks is a cylindrical, silver robot with tank treads. At its sides, a pair of metallic arms with pincers remain retracted.

  "A CleanBot!" Axel exclaims, fascinated by the device.

  "Machines capable of detecting any litter on the street and taking it to a trash bin all on their own," LENA explains from the screen. "With them, the city saves a lot on cleaning services. At least, in the High Zone."

  "They should implement them in the other sectors too," Lewis suggests, now sitting in the passenger seat.

  "The last time City Hall tried that, dozens of CleanBots were stolen within hours," says an elven girl, who observes her surroundings with indifference from the back seat.

  She appears to be about twenty in human years, with delicate features, blonde hair swept back, and blue eyes behind a pair of glasses; her long, pointed ears betray her origin. She wears a simple white long-sleeved dress and comfortable sneakers. She carries a small purse where she keeps her phone and personal belongings.

  "They should upgrade their security measures to make them viable across the city, just like the S-Bots," Andrew suggests.

  "Then they’d lose their essence as cleaning robots. Although, equipping them with weapons wouldn't be a bad idea; all criminals deserve to be brought to justice," the girl states.

  The youngest Vance lets out a laugh.

  "You don't sound like a lady at all, Aeli."

  "I never chose to be one," the elf huffs. "Being born an elf comes with too many expectations. In public, you have to look perfect, use words you don't even understand, and say thank you for every little thing."

  Axel drives the van onto the private grounds of a large, modern two-story house, surrounded by a garden of shrubs and flowers. The lot, enclosed by electrified fences, spans two hundred meters from side to side. Behind the white facade of the house, a ten-meter-tall greenhouse stands out—vast and shrouded by a small grove of lush trees.

  The van parks in front of the house, where a figure waits on the porch. He wears a dressing gown and has a build reminiscent of a human; however, his peacock head and white plumage betray his origin. A long, majestic tail touches the ground just behind his four-toed feet. The most striking detail, besides his limbs, is the pair of tucked wings on his back, identical to those of a peacock.

  The Vance brothers and the young elf climb out of the vehicle to face the bird-man.

  “Good evening, Sir Theodore Goldcrest,” Andrew greets him. “It’s a pleasure that you’ve hired our services.”

  The bird-man nods.

  “Who is she?” Theodore asks. His tone is that of an elderly man, though his appearance doesn’t show it.

  “Good evening,” the young woman interjects with a refined expression. “I am Lady Aelthiriel Dawnbloom, resident of the high-class sector. Pardon the intrusion, but per protocol, I am here to oversee the work of the Vance Night Agency.”

  “Strict rules these days...” Theodore makes a dismissive gesture. “We can drop the formalities; no one is watching. Thank you for taking my commission at the last minute; few dare to watch over a greenhouse all night.” He approaches to hand them a silver card.

  “One of our slogans is taking care of the troublesome jobs,” Lewis says as he takes it.

  “Actually, we don’t have a slogan yet,” Axel corrects him, earning a reproachful look from his older brother.

  “I want you to look after my plants for tomorrow’s competition. I’d do it myself, but I’m no longer a young garuda. I’m entrusting you with my most prized possessions.” Theodore turns to enter the house. “If anything happens to a single petal, you won't receive a single credit.”

  The door closes, leaving the Vances in silence.

  “Are you sure you want to stay?” LENA’s voice asks from the van.

  “This is better than some boring course for refined ladies.” Aelthiriel shrugs and pulls out her phone. “Besides, something interesting might happen.”

  “This time, we hope it doesn’t,” Andrew retorts.

  The boys trek through the small grove to the greenhouse. Lewis uses the card to unlock the door; he and Andrew step inside while Axel stays outside to keep watch with the elf, who lingers near the van.

  Upon entering, the cool night air transforms into a warm, cozy atmosphere. Both look on in wonder at this natural museum holding hundreds of specimens. There are plants arranged in pots, tables, and shelves so high they require ladders to reach.

  Amidst the controlled humidity and the scent of fertile earth, their eyes get lost in a variety of colors that defy the sobriety of the outside world. Orchids with translucent petals hang from the rafters; in the shadowy corners, giant ferns unfurl their fronds in perfect symmetry. In the center section, electric-blue lotuses float in stone fountains, surrounded by red camellias. Every leaf—from the tiny ones with silver veins to the massive monsteras on the upper shelves—glows under the lamplight, creating a labyrinth where green holds a thousand different shades.

  Near the entrance, they find tools made of fine materials, somewhat worn but from prestigious brands, along with high-quality fertilizer.

  “Is there any fertilizer that smells good?” Andrew covers his nose with the sleeve of his trench coat.

  “LENA,” Lewis calls out.

  “It is nine forty-seven p.m.,” the AI responds. “According to Sir Goldcrest’s instructions, you must begin the first watering round at ten-thirty.”

  “Alright. Let’s review one last time and split up.” Lewis grabs a pair of shears and a watering can before heading deep into the aisles.

  Outside the greenhouse, Axel finishes circling the structure once more, always ready to draw his sword should an enemy appear.

  “Any updates, LENA?” he asks through his earpiece.

  “I am unable to access the local security cameras,” the AI reports. “I only have access to the ones provided by the owner, and so far, there is nothing unusual.”

  “Sir Goldcrest mentioned the anomalies start after midnight.” Axel checks the time on his phone. “Plant sabotage, damage to the top of the greenhouse, and attempted lock-picking. I hope they’ll back off once they see us here.”

  “Doesn't sabotaging a greenhouse just for a gardening contest seem a bit much?” Andrew’s voice crackles over the comms.

  “I’d say so,” Lewis replies on the same channel. “Whoever is behind this must have a deeper motive than simple sabotage.”

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  “By the way, we didn't ask the client what kind of people are targeting him. From down here, everything looks to be in good shape.”

  Following Axel’s words, a heavy silence falls between Lewis, Andrew, and LENA.

  “Axel, check the walls again and look for marks,” Lewis orders. “Andrew and I will sweep the interior. Inspect the door lock, too.”

  “On it, though I don't see the point,” the middle brother mutters, scratching his head, failing to grasp the reasoning of the other three agency members.

  Midnight falls over Neo-Aureborn. Inside Theodore Goldcrest’s greenhouse, Lewis and Andrew sit down to rest after tending to over a hundred different plants and flowers. The heat required to maintain the ambient temperature is starting to make them sweat; fortunately, the toll has been more mental than physical.

  “How can that old garuda maintain a place like this?” Andrew sits on a bench and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He avoids bringing his hands near his face; they smell like a far-from-pleasant blend of fertilizers.

  “With his fortune, he must hire employees to work the place during the day,” Lewis answers, sitting down as well and using his hat to fan himself.

  “Hey, guys.”

  The Vances hear Aelthiriel’s voice through their earpieces.

  “How are you—?”

  “I have patched her into our audio channel,” LENA interrupts Andrew.

  “Someone is hovering over the property,” the elf announces. “I don't think you can hear them because they’re at a high altitude, but from my position, I can see someone circling above the greenhouse.”

  “Axel, get ready,” Lewis commands. “Andrew, get out there and back him up.”

  “What about you?” the younger brother asks.

  “I’m heading for the high ground.”

  Axel can’t see clearly what’s circling above, but he has a good idea of its target. He feels powerless; his fighting style wasn’t designed for long-range combat.

  "Can’t you fire digital magic?" Aelthiriel asks, positioning herself beside him.

  "I don't have that much control. I only imbue it into my weapons." Axel exhales a sharp breath before raising his voice. "We know you're up there! We’re armed! Back off!"

  The figure descends a few meters to get a better look at the human and the elf. Although his appearance is hidden behind black garments, he’s easily identified as a garuda by the pheasant wings on his back, his beak, and his talons. His eyes are exposed. He carries a black tactical backpack.

  "Coming to sabotage the greenhouse?" Andrew asks, stepping out and drawing his dual pistols without wasting a second.

  "So that decrepit old man upgraded his security and hired bodyguards... You’re just another nuisance." The garuda, who sounds like a teenager, reaches into his pack and pulls out two spheres larger than his palms. "I didn't want it to come to this, but now I have no choice but to destroy this dump."

  The attacker hurls the objects. In mid-air, they emit a beep and project a green light through a small lens. Andrew and Aelthiriel open fire with laser beams and digital magic, fearing they might be explosives. The projectiles bounce off on impact, and the devices deploy propellers that keep them stable in the air.

  The garuda throws two more spheres. Like the first ones, they hover thanks to their rotors. The attacker beats his wings and soars until he's out of sight. The devices deploy under-mounted cannons, and a second later, a hail of red lasers rains down on the boys.

  "Hunter drones!" Axel raises his sword to take cover.

  Andrew and Aelthiriel bolt in opposite directions. One drone pursues each of them while the other two harass the swordsman. Andrew fires at his pursuer, but his shots bounce off the casing.

  "They have reflective plating," Andrew analyzes, ceasing fire. "Lasers are light energy; a reflective surface reduces their damage."

  "Same goes for digital magic," the girl adds, "not to mention how hard it is to hit targets this small and fast."

  Andrew scans the small grove. The drone chasing him fires again, and he deliberately interposes his right forearm. He feels an electromagnetic pulse coursing through his body, and a momentary dizziness makes him stagger. He checks his sleeve: the fabric is intact.

  "They don’t have thermal power. To the woods! Axel, move!"

  The swordsman blocks two simultaneous beams and obeys his brother without hesitation.

  Meanwhile, the garuda finishes his ascent until he overlooks the entire greenhouse. He spots someone climbing a side ladder: a human in a hat with a rifle in his hands.

  Lewis doesn't flinch and fires. The garuda performs an evasive maneuver to dodge the beams, soars upward, and then dives for a punch. Lewis ducks sharply, feeling the gust of air from the enemy passing over him.

  "Not even with all your strength will you break through the greenhouse glass," Lewis says, aiming again. Thanks to the night vision of his rifle, he can see the attacker. "You’re the one responsible for these marks." He points to the scratches on the roof. "You tried to break the glass with something sharp and failed."

  "You knew a garuda would attack?"

  "Or anything that could fly. Since there were no signs of a struggle below and the cameras didn't pick anything up around the perimeter, the only blind spot was the roof."

  "Not bad, human," the garuda says, aiming with his right hand.

  "You’ll never land a hit on him," LENA warns through the earpiece. "Hitting a moving target in the air at night is statistically improbable."

  "I know, thanks for the pep talk," Lewis replies. "I just have to hold him off until backup arrives."

  The small grove surrounding the greenhouse consists of a wide variety of trees, perfect for providing shade and oxygenating the environment. In that moment, three people are using them as cover against the hunter drones in pursuit. The devices weave through the trunks, trying to locate their targets, whom they lost sight of the moment they plunged into the thicket.

  A short shout rings out, though the drones don't flinch.

  "They don’t react to sound," Axel observes—it was he who let out the shout. He, Andrew, and Aelthiriel remain hidden behind the trunks as they watch one of the devices pass by.

  "They don’t have side cameras either, or they would’ve spotted us by now," Andrew adds. "The only way they track us is through heat sensors." He winces in pain from the numbness still lingering in his forearm.

  "And they have a short range," the elf says, "or the trees are blocking the signal."

  "It’s time for a risky maneuver. Will you help us?" Andrew asks the girl.

  "This is way more exciting than those stupid protocol classes." Aelthiriel smiles, caught up in the adrenaline rush.

  "We’re not paying you if something happens to you!" Andrew climbs a tree to a high branch to grab the drone’s attention.

  The device spins on its axis, aims its cannon, and fires bursts of red lasers in rapid succession. Andrew leaps to another branch while switching his pistols to energy-blade mode. The drone gives chase, and Andrew jumps again; a few meters away, he hears the whirring of the other three drones approaching.

  "That's strange..." Andrew grits his teeth.

  This time, the youngest Vance holds his ground, crossing his solid-energy blades as a shield. Though he intercepts several shots, others bypass his defense and strike his limbs. Andrew feels the stunning effect spreading through his body; only the adrenaline keeps him conscious.

  The drone readies another discharge, but a violent horizontal slash from Axel’s sword severs its propellers. The machine plunges to the ground with a dull thud; though the casing holds, its internal components are fried.

  The other three drones aim at Axel, whose gaze remains ice-cold. While the swordsman deflects the shots with his blade, Andrew takes the opportunity to slice through another drone’s rotors with his blades.

  The two remaining devices begin to oscillate violently, as if a strong gust of air were shaking them. Their heat sensors try to track a flurry of digital magic bolts that Aelthiriel fires from the ground. Axel and Andrew seize the distraction to bring them down with coordinated attacks. The elf ducks away, letting gravity do the rest of the work.

  Once it’s confirmed the drones are scrap metal, Andrew climbs down from the tree, followed by Axel.

  "Their sensors are too sensitive," the younger brother says. "It was easy to trick them with a decoy and digital magic."

  "What was that garuda thinking?" the elf asks. "With drones this basic, he never would have breached the greenhouse structure."

  “Maybe he planned to use them as improvised wrecking balls to trash the interior later. We need to go help—" Andrew stops when he notices his brother still looks tense. He places a hand on his shoulder. "We smashed them to pieces, Axel. Save that energy for helping Lewis.”

  Lewis Vance ducks again, evading another diving punch from the garuda. His breathing is ragged; firing is the only thing he can do to break his opponent's rhythm.

  "And here I thought... being a marksman... I’d take him down easy... How naive," Lewis mutters, struggling to keep his footing on the sloped roof.

  "Here he comes again," LENA warns through his earpiece.

  This time, Lewis goes for a bold move: just as his opponent lunges, he times the distance and delivers a sharp blow with the butt of his rifle. Due to his own momentum, the garuda can’t dodge and only manages to throw up his forearm to take the hit.

  "Good. You’ve adjusted to his speed," the AI praises.

  "But it won't matter... until..." Lewis pants.

  "I’ve had enough of you!" the garuda snarls. He hovers level with the roof, his wings imbuing with digital magic. He begins to flap, sending powerful gusts of air toward the boy.

  Lewis drops onto his stomach, clinging to the structure to keep from being swept away, but his body slides centimeter by centimeter toward the edge. The garuda presses his offensive until a bolt of digital magic strikes him square in the back. The attack, coming from Aelthiriel, forces him to stop and look down.

  "What? They took out the drones?"

  "How come you have more range?" Andrew asks, a hint of envy toward the elf in his voice. "Your race is OP with digital magic."

  "It’s not about lineage; it’s about control," Aelthiriel replies, aiming with her palm.

  The garuda clenches his beak and turns to fly away; he knows better than to face four opponents alone. His original plan was just to dispatch the kid in the hat and break into the greenhouse. However, he covers a few meters before a laser beam clips his left wing. The pain is unbearable. The garuda loses his stability and begins an erratic descent, crashing when he’s only two meters from the ground.

  "Nice shot, Lewis," Andrew says over the comms before facing the intruder. "You have such an obvious weakness and you turn your back on your opponent? Rookie move."

  The garuda's wings light up again with digital magic as he flaps them to create a current to push his enemies back.

  "Don't underestimate me!" The attacker’s hands also glow as he lunges at the elf with a flurry of messy punches and kicks.

  Although Aelthiriel has no combat experience, the garuda's movements lack any technique; they're just random swings.

  "Targeting me first because my magic can reach you?" Aelthiriel dodges every lung with agility.

  "Your other mistake is ignoring the rest of your opponents," Andrew charges at the criminal with his energy blades.

  The garuda tries to summon more air currents, but it’s not enough. Axel and Andrew manage to grab his wings and pin him to the ground.

  "Stop... resisting..." Lewis appears at the greenhouse door, exhausted. "There’s... no point... in running."

  "Haven't you noticed you've dropped several feathers?" Andrew asks. "Your DNA is everywhere. One test is all it'll take to charge you with assault and trespassing."

  Axel’s gaze is heavy with suppressed rage. Seeing what this guy did to his brothers is unacceptable to him, and he fights the urge to strike. Lewis and Andrew place their hands on his shoulders to calm him down.

  "We did the job, and we’re okay," Lewis says. "Save that energy for the next mission."

  "This guy couldn't take one of your punches anyway. Don't earn yourself an unnecessary fine," Andrew adds.

  Axel relaxes his shoulders, exhales a long sigh, and nods, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

  Minutes later, in front of Theodore Goldcrest’s porch, four people stand while a fifth waits, sitting on the ground. The property owner, wrapped in his dressing gown, watches the young man of his own race with crossed arms and eyes heavy with disappointment. The garuda, whose head and wings are also those of a pheasant, doesn't dare look up.

  “This boy is one of my grandsons,” Theodore explains. “Just like my other relatives, he’s fighting over the inheritance.”

  “Why?” Aelthiriel asks. “Even if that were the case, there’s no reason to attack the greenhouse.”

  “Vengeance, I suppose. His father and I don’t have the best relationship, and this is his way of getting even. He knows all too well how much I love gardening.”

  “If you hadn't disinherited him... he wouldn't have had to...”

  “I disinherited him because he was an idiot who turned to crime the second his money ran out,” Theodore interrupts with an authoritative voice. “That’s why he’s in prison now.”

  “That was your fault!” the young garuda shouts. “If you hadn't—”

  “Enough,” Andrew interjects. “Whatever you have to say, tell it to the police. Neither we nor your grandfather care about your delusions. You committed a crime, period.”

  The elder garuda nods.

  “And committing a crime in the Upper Zone is a much more serious offense under the law,” Theodore states, turning away. “You should have thought twice before doing something so stupid.”

  The young garuda hangs his head, resigned.

  It’s six o’clock. The sun begins to peek out, and the Vance Night Agency van pulls up in front of a massive estate surrounded by brick walls. It’s so vast that the main mansion is barely visible from the outside. The enormous steel gates have been painted gold, a display of exaggerated ostentatiousness.

  “Aren’t you going to wait for them to open up?” Lewis asks from the passenger seat.

  Aelthiriel steps out of the van and stretches.

  “They already know I’m gone. I could just jump the walls; the security systems wouldn't detect me, and the guards wouldn't shoot me. It’s more exciting that way.”

  The Vances look at her with confusion; that bold attitude clashes with the image they had of a high-society lady.

  “Or I can just walk through the front door. I was joking,” Aelthiriel turns back to them. “Thanks to the four of you for another exciting night. Don’t hesitate to hit me up whenever you come to the Upper Zone.”

  The young Elf flashes them a sincere smile before walking toward her residence, where she knows a heavy scolding from her parents awaits. Axel hits the gas, and the vehicle pulls away.

  “Another mission accomplished and another successful incursion into the Upper Zone,” LENA announces from the auxiliary display.

  “Let’s get out of here before the residents get paranoid and report suspicious characters lurking in their gardens,” Andrew says.

  “Speaking of which, I hope Sir Goldcrest gives us some credit if he wins the contest today.”

  At Lewis’s words, the other three siblings nod as the van leaves behind the perfect streets of Neo-Aureborn’s Upper Zone.