The sprawling plains under the copper sun stretched endlessly, their layers of white snow glinting like a frozen sea of crystal. Cold winds carried the intermittent screech of military machinery and the hum of trucks crawling across the earth, loaded with supplies and soldiers moving toward their positions. Above them, the black moon swallowed colors, casting a strange shadow over the hills, while distant forests of black flowers whispered like a poisoned beehive, reminding everyone that death—or power—lurks behind every corner.
In this harsh environment, the soldiers began setting up their camp, choosing a location on the plains that allowed for easy surveillance of enemy movements, while also facilitating truck access. Together, they cleared snow from the frozen ground, built their quarters, and paved paths leading to smaller outposts where each camp could monitor a designated area with precision. The cold wind pierced their heavy uniforms, mingling with the whirring of machinery.
Kyle approached 09:
Kyle: I'm not doing cleaning or construction. I'm going to rest.
09 (looking at him indifferently): I don't really care, but I don't want to hear any more insults today. Just go do your work—or pretend to.
Kyle (mocking): Your face is all puffed from a slap, but that doesn't mean I should do this because of it.
09 (coldly): You saved someone from death, so I don't care about your sarcasm. If you were in my place, I'd cut off your head.
Kyle: If your relationship with the commander were what you think, he wouldn't have slapped you.
Suddenly, a voice came from behind, like a ghost hidden among the rising smoke:
File: Obviously, Moathan slapped him because he didn't dodge the strike, or he would have been killed. Everyone knows 09 is Moathan's favorite, so don't stir trouble.
Kyle (shouting): Don't just appear out of nowhere! You're only trying to comfort him. It's clear 09 was right, and Chloe was hasty.
09: The rules are the rules. She was right, and I have no problem taking the slap.
Kyle: Hahaha, it didn't seem like that when you got it. You would have cried in frustration.
09: If you saw what Moathan does to soldiers on missions, you wouldn't say that.
09's expression hardened as he placed a hand on his head:
09: Don't try to provoke Chloe. She's trying to emulate Moathan and might make reckless plans under stress. She's a smart planner, but when it comes to Moathan's missions, she loses her judgment. We are the strongest here, so we must communicate and improvise when necessary—even if it means defiance—and don't let her know.
Kyle's face twisted into a smirk:
Kyle: How does it feel to be led by a girl, someone less competent and weaker than you?
09: She's the deputy because she deserves it.
File: Everyone knows you gave that up for her, and she hates you for it.
09: Who told you she hates me?
Kyle: Are you dumb? She would have decapitated you minutes ago.
Changing the subject, 09 said:
09: My power with the snow spread will be absolute, so this mission will be easy.
Kyle pretended to help while Leah parked her mobile lab, converting it into a workspace where she treated the injured and conducted experiments on Ether samples. Measuring devices and glass tubes sparkled under the truck's dim lights as energy sparks flew into the air.
The scene shifted to the command center, where flickering screens lined the walls, emitting intermittent alert sounds.
Brian: Bring the healer. I want to see his efficiency.
Cloe: I'll take him with me.
Brian: You know it's dangerous to put a healer in your unit, especially if he's small.
Ron arrived, a fifteen-year-old boy who carried both solemnity and fear. His eyes glimmered with Ether, and he trembled slightly as he observed Brian and the crowded center with devices and soldiers.
Brian: Do your work, boy.
Ron saluted three times, then circled Yun with strange sigils, raising his hands and performing a precise, intricate dance. Ether reactions flared, and Yun's arm grew astonishingly as if nothing had ever happened to him.
Cloe (astonished): Can't you heal in any other way? Do you only have the Curse type? And how many people can you heal at once?
Ron: Yes, it's the Curse type. I don't know exactly how many I can heal, but the circle's size limits me.
Brian: If we gather people in a circle, they will be healed.
Ron: Yes, but I have limitations. Every time I use a circle, I can't create another for a while. And anyone whose heart has stopped—even if conventional methods like electric shocks or manual CPR could save them—cannot be healed, even inside an Ether circle.
Cloe: And for how long?
Ron: I don't know. It might depend on the number of people or the ritual's length, as the time varies with the circle's expansion.
Brian: Have you ever failed a healing?
Ron: Yes, I tried curing the Age Curse, but it doesn't work. Anyone whose heart stops cannot be revived (though temporary CPR and placing them in a circle could help).
Brian glanced at Chloe, who sighed and laughed:
Brian: If we leave him here alone, our heads will roll. His power exceeds my expectations. If he dies here somehow, we'll all be executed. He must be sent to the city of Larmera.
Cloe: He might be key to our victory, but I cannot bear the consequences, especially at only fifteen.
Brian: He'll go to the central city, Larmera. This place isn't safe for him right now.
The soldiers froze, fear evident—they realized a Cartel was coming, the source of the support they received.
Ron nodded, saluting:
Ron: Understood, commander.
Cloe and Brian sat in the command office, maps glowing on glass screens, energy lines and red marks indicating sensitive points. Experts' voices rose with suggestions while the cold Ether light shimmered on their tired faces.
Cloe: How many soldiers are in this branch of the Abyss Legion?
Aaron (hesitantly, scrolling through data): I don't know exactly… maybe five thousand.
Cloe (frowning sharply): Why so few?
Brian: It's your legion; this information should be known to you.
Aaron: I think it's because this city has only three million inhabitants… a small number compared to the other massive cities.
Cloe: Contact them immediately. Tell them to join the battalion outside the city walls, leaving thirty percent to support you here.
Brian: Very generous. What's the sudden kindness?
Cloe: The mission requires city protection. Some priority must be given to civilians and infrastructure in case the enemy breaches an unexpected blind spot.
Silence followed for a moment before experts leaned over the maps, discussions continuing for an hour. Chloe then rose with steady steps, grabbing her helmet and leaving the room.
From behind, Brian shouted:
Brian: Remember… we don't know when the attack will begin! Moathan won't follow the timing he told us. Stay alert!
Cloe raised her hand without turning, signaling acknowledgment, and disappeared into the center's corridors.
Outside, soldiers were busy with preparations; the ground teemed with men, trucks, and cranes. Cloe shouted sharply at the chaos before her:
Cloe: 09! Why isn't the camp ready yet?
09 (raising his hands in a calming, almost joking tone): Three thousand soldiers arrived suddenly. We had to pause to set up three large separate camps with a main road between them for faster movement. I also sent the most skilled construction soldiers to build smaller outposts at critical points.
He scratched his head and smiled lightly: even traps had been planned, but the layout was too complex. They spent time preparing the plan and briefing the soldiers to avoid them falling into it themselves.
Cloe (face reddened, hiding it behind anger): Who told you to do all this? Is it your business? And what if I don't like these locations?
09 (sighing): I know… but this isn't the time for grudges. I consulted with everyone and tried to spread effectively without wasting time.
Cloe threw an electronic map before him, lit with glowing markers:
Cloe: Follow this map. Establish locations 1, 2, 3, and 4 immediately—they're the most critical. Distribute cameras or use Ether powers for the remaining sixty-nine, if they're too far.
09 (eyes wide): Most of these locations were already chosen, especially 1, 2, 3, and 4…
Cloe ground her teeth in anger, voice nearly choked:
Cloe: Send Leah and the analysts with a full list of soldier abilities. We'll form seventy teams, each with fifty people.
09: And the remaining three sites?
Cloe (military coldly): Those will be mine… and yours… with Kyle and File. The rest will remain in the three main bases.
On the hilltop, Moathan stood in solemn silence. The wind wrapped his black coat as if afraid to touch him. Beside him, Danny and two soldiers stood frozen, watching the snow-covered valley, silence heavier than ice.
Moathan slowly turned his head, voice a blade-like whisper:
Moathan: "In three hours… you will go with Rau. Lure the beasts to this place. As for you, Sylphy… when the time comes, strip all the snow. I want the land bare, exposed."
Danny raised an eyebrow, eyes wide with concern:
Danny: "Why the snow? It's just a natural weight in this environment."
Moathan smiled faintly, eyes coldly piercing Danny:
Moathan: "Don't misunderstand… 09 will still use his shift; snow isn't required for him to survive. But… yes, snow is like an extra arm, an inexhaustible reservoir. Keeping these mounds means he won't have to spread ice with his hands, he won't tire… he'll fight as if the land itself obeys him."
He lowered his head briefly, then struck the snow with his blade, vapor rising like cursed smoke:
Moathan: "And that's why… I'll burn this advantage. I'll make the ground mute against him. I want to see him forced to craft his ice with sweat, to see his fuel crumble slowly. There… there I will see if he truly deserves to be called unconquerable."
Danny trembled, biting his lip, muttering:
Danny: "So… you're not just testing him… you're depriving him of his best cards."
Moathan chuckled softly, lifting his head to the copper sky:
Moathan: "Exactly. If you want to see a man's mettle… don't give him the ground he knows—pull it from under him. I want to see how 09 reacts when his roots are ripped away… I want to witness chaos being born inside him."
Then he turned suddenly to Danny, eyes gleaming like a blade dipped in night:
Moathan: "If he's truly unconquerable… let him prove he can survive even in a field I myself have bounded."
The wind continued to howl above the peak, as if carrying the prophecy of a battle no one knew would leave anyone alive.