The Royal Council governed the South-Land with near-absolute authority.
At its head sat eight individuals: The Commander of the Royal, AKA the legendary Five-Star General, the patriarchs of the Four Great Noble Houses known as the Four Seats, the reigning King, and his two royal advisors.
Together, they formed the highest ruling body in the kingdom.
As a nation built upon military strength, the Council relied heavily on armed force to maintain order and silence opposition. Their most trusted weapon was the Royal Magic Knights.
Most knights were powerful but ordinary mages lured in by promises of glory, adventure, wealth, or status. As a result, they were frequently assigned dangerous missions and morally questionable tasks that the Council preferred not to handle directly.
When those operations inevitably ended in disaster, the blame rarely reached the Council itself. Instead, the knights involved could be imprisoned, disgraced, or executed, allowing the kingdom's rulers to distance themselves from their own failures.
Effectively making the knights their disposable pawns…
But… among the Knights' eight divisions, one consistently refused to play by those rules.
The Third Division.
Led by the Last Monarch himself—General Anthony Justice, the Dragon--the division had become infamous throughout the kingdom.
Anthony was many things, but obedient was not one of them.
A proud believer in justice and heroism, he openly challenged the Council whenever he felt their decisions crossed a line. His influence, reputation, and overwhelming power made retaliation difficult, allowing him to operate with a freedom few others possessed.
Naturally, mages who shared his ideals gravitated toward him.
Over time, the Third Division became a gathering place for strong-willed warriors who fought according to their own beliefs and methods, provided they remained under Anthony's protection.
The Council called them troublemakers.
The other divisions called them a headache.
Most citizens simply called them heroes.
It didn't help that the division possessed one of the highest concentrations of powerful mages in the entire kingdom, making them nearly impossible to control.
Yet even among those notorious troublemakers, its newest sub-division stood out.
Sub-Division 17…led by the Division's newest knight, Dominic.
Or, as most people had begun calling them--
The Rebel Trio.
After the Lupus Village incident robbed the Council of access to the valuable Rapore mining site, their anger had been immediate and severe.
In retaliation, Sub-division 17 was buried beneath a mountain of near-impossible assignments, each accompanied by threats of punishment should they refuse.
Anthony, however, found the situation hilarious.
Mostly because Dom accepted every single mission.
And as the trio barely survived one deadly assignment after another, their strength grew at a frightening rate.
Before long, their names had begun spreading across South-Land as a rising force that even veteran knights were learning not to underestimate.
Roughly six months later…
The afternoon sun blazed over the bustling port city of Camport within the ever-prosperous South-Land.
At one of its many harbors, fishermen moved about their work, accompanied by the crash of ocean waves, the creak of docks, and the sound of their absolutely horrible singing.
Then--
Gunshots and explosions split the air.
One fisherman paused mid-task, curiosity knitting his brow as the foreign sound echoed again—this time joined by the agonized scream of a man.
The noise came from one of the harbor warehouses, a building owned by a private company which was off-limits to workers unaffiliated with them.
Unknowingly to the fishers, it was actually being used as a base of operations by a notorious gang that secretly controlled that company.
Inside, amid shattered crates, bullet-riddled walls, and scattered equipment, a lone thug crouched behind the wreckage of an old boat.
He grunted, clutching his bleeding shoulder as he caught his breath.
"This was supposed to be an easy job," He muttered, pressing his back against the cold surface. His eyes squeezed shut as gunshots, clashing steel, and pained screams erupted around him. "What are they doing here?"
"Carl."
The thug turned, eyes widening as another injured man limped toward him.
"Help… I can't feel my arm," The man groaned.
Carl's gaze dropped to the man's limp left arm, now soaked red.
"Let's get out of here. We'll die if we—" He gasped, the words dying in his throat as a shadow suddenly loomed behind the injured thug.
Before the man could react, a clawed hand gripped the back of his head and slammed it face-first into the concrete.
Carl stared at his motionless friend, horror locking his body in place. Slowly, he lifted his gaze as the figure withdrew her hand from the man's head.
"Forty-five," The girl said, a wicked smirk curling across her lips.
Carl collapsed backward, trembling violently.
"You… you're—"
Unlike her earlier savage state, Lucy now looked far more composed.
She turned, neatly braided hair swinging with the motion. A trendy black crop-top rested beneath an open grey hoodie marked with the Division 3-17 insignia across the back, paired with baggy trousers and black sneakers.
She tilted her head and smiled menacingly as she raised her hand—Carl's eyes locking onto the blood staining her sharp, black claws.
He was too terrified to move- too paralyzed to even breathe.
Then, she stepped toward him…
"Lucy."
She paused, mild irritation flashing across her face as another voice cut in.
"We're not supposed to kill them." The voice said, a figure emerging behind a pillar.
"I didn't," Lucy replied flatly as she put her claws away. "They're just… sleeping."
Carl peered past her, spotting another figure approaching.
His fear deepened as he recognized Dae, Vice-Captain of Sub-division 3-17.
He wore the standard knight uniform, pristine and simple, modified only by a white-and-black embroidered sleeveless vest over his shirt—the Division insignia stitched neatly at the lower left.
"People don't usually bleed in their sleep," Dae remarked, stopping beside one of the unconscious bodies.
As he leaned closer, a short, straight scar along his right cheek caught the light. His eyes narrowed at the claw marks on the defeated thugs.
"We're supposed to hand them over to the local police in one piece." He added.
Lucy clicked her tongue and shot him a glare. "Why are you always so serious?"
"Because this is a mission," Dae replied calmly. "And missions are meant to be taken seriously."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, sorry. I guess I got a little carried away." She said with a dismissive shrug.
Dae lifted a brow, silently gesturing toward the man she smashed into the floor.
Lucy noticed his stare and stuck out her tongue, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly.
Dae exhaled a tired sigh. "Even after all these months," He muttered as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, "… she still behaves like an animal."
Suddenly, his instincts flared.
His eyes snapped open, the piercing purple glow in his iris tracking movements in the background.
Lucy's bushy tail twitched at the same time. Her attention was drawn to the nearly forgotten Carl—now raising a pistol toward her.
Dae turned around, finding three more injured thugs struggling to aim their muskets in his direction as well.
"St-st-stay away!" Carl shouted in desperation, the pistol shaking violently in his grip.
Unfazed, Lucy flashed him a sharp grin as she stepped forward while Dae's hand settled on the swords strapped to his back as he did the same.
"Stop and drop your weapons, or we'll shoot!" One of the thugs yelled, just as nervous.
But Dae didn't stop.
His black and white steel slid free with a cold hiss, the blades catching the light with a dangerous gleam.
At the same moment, Lucy dropped into a four-limbed stance, claws scraping lightly against the floor as her eyes locked onto Carl.
In perfect sync, their mana began to ooze outward—purple and silver mist bleeding into the air, thickening the tension until it became suffocating.
Terrified, the three thugs fired simultaneously.
Dae's purple aura detonated into crackling electrical sparks as he dropped into a low stance.
The world slowed…
Bullets crawled through the air, each one perfectly visible as they drifted toward him.
Dae inhaled slowly, tightening his grip--then he moved.
"Form 32. Spark Chain."
A scattered, string-like pattern of sword strikes erupted in an instant—too fast to follow. Every bullet was deflected, knocked aside, and sent screaming in different directions as steel sang through the air.
The thugs stared in stunned confusion.
What felt like minutes to Dae was an instant to them.
They knew they fired.
They know they didn't miss.
Yet… nothing touched him.
That gunfire also finally snapped Carl's remaining nerve, prompting him to shoot as well.
Lucy sprang aside, the bullet pinging harmlessly off a nearby wall.
Carl gasped as his eyes struggled to follow her sliding across the concrete, her claws screeching and throwing sparks in her wake.
Laughing, she launched forward--closing the distance in a heartbeat.
Her claws slashed upward across Carl's chest, the sheer force ripping him off his feet. She caught his arm mid-rise and drove a kick into his side.
Blood spilled from his mouth as he felt ribs crack before his body sailed through the broken boat he once hid behind and slammed into a pillar with a sickening crack before collapsing in a lifeless heap.
Lucy straightened, laughing proudly at him. "And that's 46," She chanted.
She turned just in time to see two of the remaining three thugs already down.
The last one managed to reload and fired at Dae, who dashed towards him.
A clean arc of black steel flashed—Dae's katana slicing the bullet clean in half. The two halves tore through nearby crates as he vanished.
"Fuck," The thug muttered just as Dae appeared beside him.
A swift strike with the sword's handle dropped the man instantly. His gun skidded across the floor, sliding neatly to a stop beneath Lucy's shoe.
"How many guys did you take out?" Lucy asked, casually kicking the gun aside as she approached Dae.
"Does it matter?" Dae replied, sheathing his swords while suppressing his aura. "This isn't a competition."
She pouted. "Dom was right. You need to lighten up, dude," She said, mimicking Dom's deeper voice.
Dae rolled his eyes. "It's like having two of him," He muttered, scanning the warehouse—the wreckage, the unconscious bodies. "Now that you mention it… where is—"
A loud crash answered him.
On the other side of the massive warehouse, a wall exploded, five bodies bursting through shattered concrete and skidding across the floor.
"Never mind," Dae sighed flatly, while Lucy laughed as a shadowy figure stepped forward through the lingering dust cloud.
Two of the five bodies groaned and managed to push themselves upright.
Blood streamed down the first thug's face, while the second clutched his aching shoulder, teeth clenched as he glared at the figure finally emerging from the debris.
"Of all the people they could've sent…" The first thug muttered bitterly.
The figure stopped, a smirk forming as he cracked his knuckles. "Sorry, dude," he said casually. "Today's just not your lucky day."
The second thug's eyes widened in recognition as the dust cleared.
Standing before them was the Captain of the recently infamous Sub-division.
Dressed in jet-black jeans, blue sneakers, and a black hoodie lined with sleek blue accents—its back boldly marked with the Division insignia—Dom strode forward with relaxed confidence.
The first thug suddenly scrambled to his feet, yanked out his pistol, and fired, but the bullet pinged harmlessly off Dom's cheek.
Dom paused, calmly wiping his face as if brushing away dust.
The thug froze.
"Those won't work, idiot," The second thug snapped, pulling a large, slick-white pistol from inside his jacket.
Dom's eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar weapon as it was aimed squarely at him.
"What the hell are you doing with one?" The first thug shouted.
"Shut up," The second snarled. "We're already fucked, so it doesn't matter anymore." He steadied his grip. "Our magic can't beat you. But this should do the trick."
He pulled the trigger, and Dom's eyes widened as he watched the blast of raw red mana erupt from the weapon and scream towards him.
Dom shifted smoothly to the side, the energy blast slamming into the wall behind him with an explosion that punched a large, steaming hole through solid concrete.
Dom whistled appreciatively before springing away from a second blast that obliterated a wooden crate.
The thug grinned and tilted the gun upward, confidence returning. He fired again, certain Dom couldn't dodge midair--
--but Dom's body twisted effortlessly, the blast ripping through the ceiling instead.
"What?" The thug muttered, panic rising as he fired three more shots.
Dom weaved through the air as if gravity itself had lost its grip on him, dodging every blast with ease.
"I thought his power was just super-strength," The first thug whispered, backing away.
"Then how the hell is he flying?!" The second shouted as he fired a few more times, each shot evaded casually.
"Wrong," A voice said calmly.
The thugs spun around, terror flooding their faces as Lucy and Dae approached at an unhurried pace.
"Dom can't fly. That's stupid," Lucy added, hands on her hips.
"Don't bother," Dae sighed, stopping beside her.
The thugs glanced past them, finally registering the devastation behind—destroyed walls, unconscious bodies, and fallen comrades scattered throughout the warehouse.
"We're a top gang… with over a hundred and fifty members," The first thug muttered weakly as he collapsed to the floor. "Seventeen secured bases… A-class guards and mana beasts… and they still beat us?"
He laughed hollowly, disbelief overwhelming his mind.
"Just the three of them?"
"Monsters," The second thug growled, raising the energy gun toward Lucy and Dae.
"Hey," Dom said quietly. "You're looking at the wrong enemy."
The second thug's eyes widened as he realized his mistake.
He turned back—
—and Dom's fist snapped forward and retracted in a single, sharp motion, producing a soft crack in the air.
The second thug jerked as an invisible projectile slammed into his face.
The impact spun his body vertically before he crashed to the floor with a lifeless thud.
"What… hey—" The first thug stammered, staring at his fallen partner in disbelief.
Dom chuckled as he dropped down in front of him.
"One of my new spells," Dom said proudly, blowing across his knuckles.
"Gale Bullet. Pretty cool, right?"
"So cool!" Lucy cheered, her tail wagging wildly.
Dom grinned at her reaction—then frowned as the sound of multiple footsteps echoed through the warehouse.
Within seconds, the trio found themselves surrounded by over a dozen armed men.
Dom's eyes swept over them, immediately noticing the difference in their attire.
The thug on the floor laughed, confidence surging back. "You're in trouble now. Our boss has ties with another big gang. He called them a while ago."
Unlike the previous group, only half of these men carried firearms—the others crackled with magic, hands aflame or bodies partially transformed.
"Oh," Lucy said, grinning as her claws began to extend. "At least these guys smell strong."
"B-class," Dae noted calmly, hand resting on his sword. His gaze locked onto a woman among them, her hazy brown mana extremely potent. "With… a few A-class."
"Dibs," Lucy said instantly as she locked eyes with the female mage.
The thug laughed as he quickly retreated towards the reinforcements. "Serves you right." He said from behind their defenses. "You may've beaten us, but these guys are way stronger. You're all dead!"
Weapons cocked. Magic flared. The reinforcements braced themselves.
"We can take these guys," Lucy chuckled confidently as her nails darkened and stretched into sharp, black claws.
Dae nodded, unsheathing his white katana—
—then both of them suddenly stopped, instinctively sensing a subtle shift in the air.
Without a word, Lucy retracted her claws, and Dae slid his blade back into its sheath.
The enemies stared, confused as the two mages now seemed relaxed and uninterested.
The thug blinked… then laughed nervously. "Y-yeah! That's right! You can't win—so all you can do is give—"
"Dumbass," Lucy interrupted, casually nibbling on her nail.
"You've already lost," Dae added, folding his arms.
The men frowned—
—until they felt it.
This whole time, Dom hasn't said a word.
His eyes were closed. His breathing slowed. The air sizzled around him as he channeled his mana throughout his body.
Then—
He opened his eyes and mana erupted.
The blue haze flooded the warehouse, crushing down on the unsuspecting thugs like an invisible tidal wave.
Their vision faded, their senses evaporated until one by one, they collapsed.
Bodies crumpled with heavy thuds as their minds became overwhelmed and their will defeated without a single strike.