Kyle awoke in his cold chamber in Laramir, his breath condensing in the frigid air like smoke rising from dying embers. He dressed slowly, every movement sending a stabbing pain through his arm. With extreme caution, he secured his sling, then injected himself with a vial of blue solution to suppress the ether flow in his body—a necessary precaution to prevent further nerve damage in his fragile arm.
When he stepped into the narrow alleys of Laramir, his eyes absorbed misery from every corner: pale-faced children, women weeping over their dead, and youths brawling over a moldy piece of bread. He stopped in a dark alley and tossed a bag filled with food and candy, knowing hungry eyes were watching him from shattered windows—eyes belonging to children who might starve by nightfall. Then he continued toward the City Legion headquarters, each step dragging as though the weight of the world pressed upon his shoulders.
Before the massive iron doors, he drew a long breath and forced his expression to shift from pain into lethal coldness. Activating his wristwatch, he called Lia. Her holographic image appeared—exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes and unkempt hair.
His voice was hoarse:
— "How are you? What are you working on?"
She answered wearily:
— "Do I look fine? I haven't slept since the Zernoth mission began. It's too much..."
Kyle replied:
— "Go to sleep. You won't succeed without focus. You've got more than a week, so relax a little."
She shook her head:
— "I'm close to finishing the preliminary design. I can't sleep yet. What about you? Starting your duty now?"
Kyle rubbed his tired face:
— "I'm not in good shape. My head aches from the meds, and I'm barely controlling the ether before it destroys my rotten arm. Take care of yourself—I'm off to deal with those filthy faces."
Lia sighed softly:
— "Until we meet again. I'll be back soon, so take care."
Inside the headquarters, his breathing quickened. When he asked for Brian, they told him he was in the training hall. As Kyle pushed open the heavy doors, the sight struck him: Brian balancing perfectly in a handstand, resting only on his thumbs—how could a human manage such punishing exercises? Around him, dozens of soldiers trained intensely under his command.
A massive soldier, Dave, stepped forward—his body carved like stone—and pressed his forehead against Kyle's:
— "Do you even know where you are?"
Kyle didn't flinch. A devilish smile curved his lips:
— "What's that stench? Don't you brush your teeth?" His eyes shifted to Brian. "Can't you control your dogs? They're annoying."
Brian ignored him, continuing his drills, which only stoked Kyle's anger.
— "I'm talking to you, you filthy rat!"
Dave roared, muscles swelling grotesquely:
— "Watch your mouth! Do you know where you stand?"
Kyle chuckled mockingly:
— "Where else? A dog kennel?"
The floor cracked beneath Dave's feet as he lunged, his fist slamming directly into Kyle's face. But Kyle didn't move.
— "Was that a slap from an ant?" Kyle sneered. "Take your hand off me. I'm in no mood for another fight. Use this chance to run before I lose my temper."
Dave froze, unsettled by the whispers and laughter among the soldiers. He readied himself to strike again, but Brian's voice cut through:
— "Ignore this bastard. He lives to provoke."
— "But he disrespected you! How can you allow this?" Dave protested.
Brian, now slipping on his shirt, said coolly:
— "I told you—ignore him."
Kyle sighed:
— "I spared this mutt. You should repay the favor."
Brian laughed manically:
— "Do you think you'll get away with striking another soldier? You think you're untouchable?"
Kyle answered with cold indifference:
— "Look at me. I can barely move my arm, my body's torn apart. Can't you grant me a day or two of rest?"
Brian stroked his chin thoughtfully:
— "I didn't ask for you. I wanted 09. Don't know why they sent you."
He called Cloe through his wristwatch:
— "Why send Kyle? I told you I wanted 09."
Cloe snapped back:
— "Moathan gave me the right to choose. And after what happened, you think I'd work with him?"
— "Then why not send him to Danny and give me Fyle instead?" Brian retorted.
— "He'd clash with Danny. You know his nature—you can't put two lunatics together."
— "So I'm stuck with him? Send me 09 and take Kyle back."
— "I don't even know if 09 is alive. And Kyle, in this state, won't last long here."
— "You're just making excuses."
Her voice, cut by sounds of chaos in the background, snapped:
— "Things are falling apart here! Get out of my face!" Then the call ended.
Brian exhaled sharply, glaring at Kyle.
— Kyle: "You don't want me in your squad, and I can't even fight. Just give me the day off."
— Brian: "We need every soldier now! Tomorrow's a major event. I can't let you slip away."
— Kyle: "Look at me..."
— Brian: "You'll do nothing heavy! Just patrol the alleys with your squad, investigate any suspicious activity. Tomorrow the President gives a speech in the Grand Square and inaugurates several projects. Our job is simple: guard and monitor. Now move out and clear any suspects."
At that moment, Syle entered with six members of the Abyss Legion, saluting crisply.
Dave barked furiously:
— "Don't you see the commander's speaking? Think you're above respect because you're Abyss Legion trash?"
Syle ignored him completely:
— "Brian! Good to see you. How are you?"
Murmurs and laughter rippled among the soldiers, Dave realizing the mockery was aimed at him.
Kyle's eyes blazed as he glared at Syle:
"You bastard! Remember what you did today? Thanks to you, they now dare throw punches at me!"
Syle smirked, wagging his hands in childish gestures:
"Oh? Was I supposed to be scared? Blame the one who punished you, not us."
Kyle snapped:
"How old are you to act like this? Stop these pathetic antics—they disgust me."
Syle chuckled darkly:
"Well, well—you do have a brain after all. Hard to believe you managed to figure out I'm an adult!"