Two months earlier.
At the castle, in the royal capital, life followed a strict rhythm, divided between intensive physical training and theoretical lessons. That day, in the vast classroom bathed in the morning light, their instructor, Marcou, had just broached for the first time a burning topic: institutionalized discrimination in this world.
After months of technical lessons on mana, martial arts, skills, and dungeons, this new theme immediately sparked astonishment, outrage, and discomfort.
Silence lasted no longer than a heartbeat. Maïli, usually calm but deeply devoted to justice, leapt to her feet, her face flushed with anger.
"What does that mean?" she protested, her voice echoing through the room.
Éléonore, sitting beside her, clenched her fists on the table before adding, equally indignant:
"She's right explain yourself!"
Marcou, unruffled, paused for a moment before replying, as if weighing each word.
"We no longer truly know when this discrimination began… but it is established that it was largely instituted by the goddess Hamnesia."
A murmur swelled through the class, mingled with indignant whispers. Maïli wasn't finished:
"But why impose such discrimination? What's the purpose behind it?" she demanded, her voice trembling with passion.
The teacher met her gaze gravely:
"The goddess so decreed. According to her, the human race is superior to all others, and therefore, the other races must be regarded as inferior destined either to serve or to be kept apart."
Maïli gritted her teeth, fists tightening.
"So, because they're different? Because they have more hair, fur, or even scales… we're supposed to treat them as less than nothing?"
"She's right!" someone blurted out in the class.
Éléonore's voice followed, firmer now: "And who is this goddess? For months you've hardly spoken of her, and only now, as our training nears its end, do you bring up this subject. That's no coincidence! You knew we would reject such absurdity!"
The atmosphere grew heavy, deeply dividing the class. Some students lowered their heads, uneasy, no longer daring to meet the eyes of their peers or their instructor. Others, on the contrary, whispered feverishly, trying to understand, to take sides, or simply to relieve their own discomfort. The debate grew more intense, voices rising higher and higher in the great hall, until Maïli, standing tall and resolute, spoke again, refusing to yield.
"I call that racism and megalomania! Declaring an entire race inferior out of sheer ideology to justify conquest, enslavement, or even extermination… That's the madness of a cruel, deranged being, nothing more! How can you worship such a sham goddess?"
A tense silence preceded Marcou's retort, his tone now harder.
"Watch your words," he growled, his brow furrowed.
But Maïli stood her ground:
"Why should I? We're supposed to defend this world and all its inhabitants! We were summoned here to protect, not to partake in injustice. Why should I risk my life for people who oppress others?"
The teacher sighed, jaw tight.
"Because those who oppose the will of the goddess are hunted by the Church and its fanatics. The religion of the Blue Moon Cult dominates this continent. You must understand: opposing the goddess, even for heroes, is to risk dire consequences. Your status won't protect you forever not against the majority."
A heavy silence fell over the room. All the students held their breath, aware of the gravity of the situation.
Maïli, however, pressed on:
"So, we're being asked to protect humans… but to enslave or even exterminate the other races if necessary?"
Marcou nodded, impassive.
"Yes."
"And if we refuse, we'll be seen as defective weapons, fit to be discarded?"
The teacher confirmed, his voice heavy for all to hear:
"That's correct."
Maïli's gaze hardened, a mix of anger and disgust.
"Then… what meaning can we give to our mission? What sense is there in obeying such filth?"
Marcou's reply fell, sharp as a guillotine:
"To stay alive."
That answer was the last straw. Maïli felt a surge of rage flood through her, so powerful that mana began to radiate from her body, vibrating in the air like a distant rumble.
"That's a threat…" she said, her voice resonating with new intensity.
At once, a powerful gust swept through the room, sending pages and notebooks flying. The tables trembled, some sliding across the floor under the sudden wind. Maïli's mana filled the space a silent testament to her anger and distress while the class held its breath.
"Calm yourself, please." Marcou's voice grew more insistent, betraying a hint of nervousness as he felt Maïli's raw power swell around them.
Reacting quickly, Éléonore and Eva each placed a firm hand on Maïli's shoulders, trying to bring her back to reason. Both knew that such an outburst could cost her dearly and the rest of the group as well. Gradually, the flow of mana subsided, the air settled, but the tension remained palpable. The lesson ended on that bitter note, and the students were invited to head to the training grounds.
Yet the mood had changed drastically. Many of them, usually lively or energetic, now wore distant expressions, their movements mechanical. Marcou's words still echoed in their minds: would they truly be forced to commit the irreparable in the name of an ideal that wasn't their own?
During training, as Maïli wandered in her thoughts, a powerful burst of water suddenly struck, hurling her violently to the ground.
"Well now, I've seen much better from you!" Zem called, a provocative smile on his lips but worry in his eyes.
She rose slowly without answering, her face closed. Ignoring her friends' stares and Zem's she left the field.
She crossed the castle, climbing without pause to the highest tower. There, alone against the wind, she let her gaze drift over the city and the horizon. From up there, life went on below, the silhouettes of her comrades training but it all felt distant, unreal. Only the bite of the wind on her skin anchored her to the present.
Time stretched in silence. Maïli closed her eyes, seeking to calm the storm inside, until a familiar voice broke her solitude.
"What's going on? This is the first time I've seen you like this. And you're not the only one, by the way… several of your classmates left just after you."
Zem had approached, his presence reassuring at her side.
Maïli hesitated for a moment, then turned toward him, her face marked by doubt.
"Zem… did you know about the discrimination against other races?"
"I see… so Marcou chose to bring up that topic today."
"So you were aware," Maïli pressed, her tone firm but tinged with bitterness. "Zem, I know how to judge people, and I refuse to believe someone like you could accept such horrors. So… how can you keep fighting for people so cruel?"
Zem turned his gaze to the horizon, letting silence hang for a few moments, broken only by the wind sweeping over the castle heights.
"We don't accept it, Maïli. We keep that rage, that sense of injustice, buried deep inside us. I've served this country for many years now… and I've seen atrocities. Children torn from their families, women raped and slaughtered, entire villages wiped off the map. And the worst part… is standing there, powerless, watching without being able to do anything."
Maïli clenched her fists, staring into the void.
"But… you still made a choice. You chose to serve them. So… why keep fighting for them?"
Zem's face darkened, but he answered with steady conviction:
"You'll learn, Maïli, that sometimes it's by staying closest to the executioners that you can hope to save their victims. If you reject that role, you'll never have any hold over what happens here."
A long silence stretched, punctuated by the wind that made the flags atop the castle snap.
Zem continued, his voice gentler:
"You're a good person, Maïli. But sooner or later, you'll see or have to do things that will seem unforgivable. If you're not ready, tell me. I can help you flee this place, you and your friends."
"My friends and me, huh…" she murmured.
The image of her group rose in her mind, the faces of her companions passing one after another and above all, Logan's, shining with a gleam of defiance.
"Wherever he is, he won't stand by and do nothing," she thought, a faint smile forming on her lips.
Without yet turning her head toward Zem, she remained deep in thought, then finally met his gaze.
"So I can count on you?"
Zem gave her a sincere smile.
"Of course. And you know, you probably have more allies here than you think."
A fresh breeze passed between them, like a promise.
"Then let's get back to training," Maïli said, regaining some of her determination.
And, without hesitation, she leapt from the top of the tower, Zem at her side, her heart lighter with the knowledge that she wasn't alone to face the future.
"Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer," Maïli thought, clenching her teeth, resolved to steel herself for the trials ahead.
At the first hints of night, she and Zem plunged into a long training session, pushing their limits without respite. Hours slipped by, their breaths mingling with the wind, until fatigue finally interrupted their relentless effort.
Meanwhile, in the hushed darkness of a private salon at the top of the palace, Instructor Marcou was delivering his report to three imposing figures: Moïse, Jean, and the king himself. The atmosphere was grave, disturbed only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth.
"So, how did they take the news?" asked the king, his sharp gaze framed by an ermine mantle.
Marcou hesitated a moment, then replied in an even voice:
"As we expected… very poorly for most of them. It won't be easy to condition them and make them accept such a reality."
The king crossed his arms, looking troubled.
"Do you think they might disobey orders?"
Marcou nodded gravely.
"It's highly likely for some of them. They're upright, idealistic, driven by a keen sense of justice.
They want to save everyone, convinced all are equal. Most of them will never agree to become instruments of oppression.
"Most of them…?" the king asked, intrigued.
Marcou allowed a faint, shadowed smile.
"I've noticed some students seemed less shaken by my words than others. Those will more easily follow orders, whatever the cost. But what struck me most… was the moment I mentioned their own deaths. Then I felt their convictions waver, as if merely having to choose between their lives and their principles was enough to shake their resolve."
Moïse, silent until then, lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with cold intelligence.
"Waver, you say…?"
The king turned toward him, guessing at the outline of a plan behind that word.
"Moïse, do you have an idea?"
"I had considered a slave seal… but that would be a last resort."
A sly, malevolent smile stretched across his lips as he leaned forward slightly:
"First of all, I think it's time to force their hand."