Not long after the advancement, the hospital felt different that day. Syal sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. The faint blue 'white'ish glow of his Spirit-Faith core flickered for a moment, then faded. He exhaled slowly.
"Finally… some peace."
Proto stood near the window, motionless like always. Sunlight slipped through the glass and hit its cloak, giving it a softer look. Almost human.
"Proto, stand down mode."
"As you wish, Master."
The robot's posture relaxed slightly. Less alert. Less… soldier.
Syal leaned back and closed his eyes.
For the first time since joining the military, his head felt quiet.
No monsters. No blood. No pressure.
Just silence and peace.
Many thoughts past Syal mind but before he have time to explore the abilities and possibilities of his new core. Suddenly there a knock on door.
Syal opened one eye. "Who is it?"
"Delivery."
The girl voice that felt familiar.
Syal frowned, stood up, and walked to the door. When he opened it, he froze for a second.
Stephanie stood there, holding a basket.
Her usual bright smile greeted him.
"Hi, soldier."
Syal blinked. "Stephanie?"
She tilted her head. "Surprised?"
"A bit. How did you even find me?"
She stepped in without waiting. "You're not hard to track. People talk. 'Handsome new recruit with weird little brother.'"
Her eyes drifted to Proto.
Proto stared back.
"…That's him?" she asked. Proto no way look like a children's here.
Syal coughed. "Yeah. My… little brother."
"Uh-huh."
She clearly did not believe it. But she didn't push. Ignoring the weirdly looking robot that somehow trying mimicking human.
Then, she placed the basket on the table and opened it.
Fresh bread. Sweet buns. A faint smell of cinnamon filled the room.
"I brought these," she said. "Business was slow today. I had time."
Syal walked closer, drawn by the smell. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
Simple answer.
He picked one bun, still warm. Took a bite.
Soft. Sweet. Familiar.
His shoulders dropped without him noticing.
"Good?" she asked.
Syal nodded. "Same as before."
She smiled wider. "Of course. I made them."
They sat down.
For a moment, neither spoke.
It wasn't awkward. Just… calm.
Stephanie looked around the room. "So this is where you live now."
"Yeah, at least untill I am healed."
"Smaller than your old house."
"It's only a room of course it is..."
That made her pause. They awkward interaction hit a wall.
She glanced at him, softer this time. "You've changed."
Syal looked at the bun in his hand. "Have I?"
"You're quieter."
He let out a short laugh. "That bad?"
"No." She shook her head. "Just different."
Silence again.
Then she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Do you remember that time in school… when you tried to bake?"
Syal groaned instantly. "Don't remind me."
"I will."
"You're evil."
She laughed. "You burned everything. Even water somehow."
"That's not possible."
"You proved it was."
Syal shook his head, smiling despite himself. "Our teacher almost kicked me out of the kitchen."
"Drop the almost, She did kick you out."
"Spare the details please."
Stephanie laughed again. Then Syal Shyly laughing.
The sound felt light. Easy. Depressed tone of hospital is fading away with the joy of both of them. The world feel like just for two.
Syal realized something.
He hadn't laughed like this in a while.
Not with Vincent. Not in training. Not in battle.
Only now.
Only here.
He leaned back. "You were always better at this."
"At baking?" Stephanie cutely confused.
"At… normal life."
She looked at him for a second.
"You can still have that."
Syal didn't answer.
His eyes drifted to his hands again.
The faint memory of blood.
The monster.
The mission.
The Fated.
"Not really," he said quietly.
Stephanie noticed.
She didn't ask.
Instead, she changed the topic.
"Hey. Do you still go to the forest near the school?"
Syal blinked. "The small one? That can't even considered as Forest, more like Garden with lot of tree."
"Yeah that one. The one where you got lost."
"…You remember that?"
"You cried a lot."
"I was eight."
"You still cried a lot."
Syal sighed. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Very much."
He smiled again.
That forest.
He remembered. That time he lost his way, doesn't know which is where. His father is on 'business trip' that day, so Syal decided to do little adventure.
His father somehow back and finding him at night. Carrying him home.
He stayed silent for a moment. His eyes is little teary remembering his lost Father and sweet old memories.
Stephanie watched him.
"Hey," she said gently and concerned. "You okay?"
Syal nodded. "Just… remembering."
"Good memories?"
He hesitated.
"…Yeah. Smiley memories."
She smiled. "Then it's worth it."
Another pause.
Then she stood up.
"Well. I should go."
"Already?"
"Bakery won't run itself."
She walked to the door, then stopped.
"Hey, Syal."
"Yeah?"
"If you ever get time… come visit."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're inviting me?"
"I am."
"Free food?"
"Maybe."
"I'm coming."
She laughed. "Figures."
She opened the door, then glanced back one last time.
"Take care, okay?"
Syal nodded. "You too."
She left.
The door closed.
Silence returned.
But it felt different now.
Warmer.
Syal walked back to the table and picked another bun.
He took a bite, slower this time.
Proto spoke.
"Master, your heart rate has stabilized."
Syal smirked. "Yeah?"
"Yes."
"…Good."
He looked at the basket.
Then at the door.
Then out the window.
For a moment, he wasn't a Fated.
Not a soldier.
Just… Syal.
And that was enough.
"I hope there's no other big disturbance in the near time." Syal Sighed.
***
In some bar at the distance land of Theocratic.
The bar was loud.
Not cheerful loud. Rough loud.
Wooden mugs slammed against tables. Chairs scraped. Voices clashed like dull blades.
The smell of cheap ale mixed with sweat and iron.
In the far corner, two soldiers sat across from each other.
Both wore the same uniform. Dark leather reinforced with metal plates. The mark of the Theocracy burned into their shoulders.
But their faces set them apart.
One had wolf ears. Gray fur, slightly torn at the edges. A long scar crossed his nose.
The other had short horns curling from his forehead. His eyes glowed faint yellow in the dim light.
Half-human.
Half-beast.
Not welcome. Not trusted.
Just useful.
The wolf-eared man took a long drink, then slammed his mug down. "Tastes worse every time."
The horned one snorted. "Still drink it."
"Because water is worse."
A short laugh. Dry.
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then the horned soldier spoke. "You heard the rumors?"
"Which one?" the wolf asked. "We got a lot."
"Deployment."
The wolf's ears twitched slightly.
"…Where?"
"No one knows. Some say north. Some say across the border. But high chances this time on Nation"
"Nation? The Xenophobic one?"
"Where else, on whole continents there's only one Nation."
The wolf leaned back. "War, then."
"Looks like it."
Another pause.
Around them, voices rose and fell. Someone shouted. Someone laughed too hard.
The horned soldier traced the rim of his mug. "You ever think about leaving?"
The wolf glanced at him. "Leaving where?"
"This place. The Theocracy. The Human Continent"
The wolf let out a quiet breath. "You say that like we have a choice."
"We don't," the horned one said. "But I still think about it."
The wolf looked down at his hands. Clawed fingers. Not fully human.
"They won't let us," he said. "Not people like us. This whole continent owned by human. Even somehow we escaped it, the other continent is also doesn't accept us."
"Half-breeds," the horned one muttered.
The word hung in the air.
Heavy.
Ugly.
The wolf's jaw tightened. "We fight their wars. We bleed for them. Still not enough."
"Never enough. At least we still accepted. Barely."
A mug shattered somewhere behind them.
No one cared.
The horned soldier leaned forward. "But this deployment… it's different."
"How?"
"I heard something. From a higher-up."
The wolf raised an eyebrow. "That always ends well."
"They said… if we succeed, things might change."
The wolf stared at him. "Change how?"
"Recognition. Land. Maybe even human citizenship rights."
The wolf barked a short laugh. "You believe that?"
"I want to."
That shut him up.
The wolf looked away.
Toward the bar counter.
Toward the humans laughing. Drinking. Free in a way he would never be.
"…You're hoping," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"For what? A medal? A piece of land no one wants?"
"For a life," the horned soldier replied.
Simple.
Direct.
Real.
The wolf didn't answer right away.
"…You think glory will fix this?" he asked.
"No," the horned one said. "But it might open a door."
The wolf's ears lowered slightly.
"A door they closed the moment we were born."
"Then we break it."
The wolf looked at him again.
For a second, there was something there.
Not anger.
Not bitterness.
Just… stubborn hope.
"…You're an idiot," he said.
"Yeah."
They both drank.
Slow.
Quiet.
Then the door slammed open.
The entire bar went still.
A soldier stepped in.
Full armor. Clean. Untouched by dirt.
A messenger.
A Fated.
His eyes swept the room.
Sharp.
Cold.
"Everyone," he said.
His voice cut through the noise like a blade.
"All soldiers. Gather around Cathedral. Now."
No one moved at first.
Then he spoke again.
Stronger.
"Orders from Bishop. Immediate assembly."
The room shifted.
Chairs scraped. People stood.
Mugs left half full.
The wolf and the horned soldier exchanged a look.
"…That was fast," the wolf muttered.
The horned one stood up. "Guess the rumors were true."
The wolf grabbed his weapon, resting beside the table.
"…War, huh."
"Yeah."
They walked toward the door with the others.
The noise returned, but different now.
Tighter.
Heavier.
Outside, the night air felt colder.
The messenger's final words echoed behind them.
"Prepare yourselves."
"For war. May the God of Fate is watching us."