I was still trying to process the fact that I was going on a mission. A mission. The word itself echoed in my head like a hammer striking an empty bell. I hadn't even learned how to properly use dp yet, and somehow I was being thrown into something that sounded far beyond me.
Why me? I thought, my mind a whirl of confusion and unease.
While I stood there drowning in my own thoughts, Krotas was already leaving the room. His back turned, his steps casual—as if this was nothing more than a morning stroll.
"Wait! Where are you going? And why me of all people? I can't even use dp properly!" I blurted out, my voice sharper than I intended. I had hoped, maybe desperately, that he would answer and ease at least some of my worries.
He paused at the door, glancing back with a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, me? Preparing for the mission. And you should too." He shrugged, as if the whole thing was obvious, before adding with a teasing lilt, "When you're ready, meet us at the main gate."
And then he was gone.
"This guy…" I muttered under my breath, irritation lacing my tone. Closing the door behind me, I found myself staring at the mirror. My reflection stared back, dressed in the clothes I had chosen. These should be fine, I thought, adjusting the sleeves. This time, I was careful not to think aloud. The last time I did, the entities from the Nathana Abyss had stirred. Miss Margaret had warned me about them—creatures called Rakas, restless and eager to slip into this world at the slightest slip of my tongue.
With that unsettling memory lingering at the back of my mind, I straightened my clothes, inhaled deeply, and prepared myself—not just physically, but mentally—for what lay ahead. My first mission.
When I finally stepped out and walked to the main gate, I found them already gathered. Miss Khushi stood tall with her usual calm but stern aura, her long coat swaying slightly in the morning breeze. Beside her was the captain—always smiling, always carrying himself like a man who had seen everything and worried about nothing. Krotas was there too, along with Andrew, Vishu, and another unfamiliar face.
The morning air carried the crisp scent of dew, the sun still climbing over the horizon. The cobbled courtyard stretched before the great iron-wrought gates, their black surface etched with faint divine runes that shimmered faintly in the light. The horses attached to a waiting cart stamped their hooves impatiently, the wood of the vehicle dark and polished, gleaming with faint traces of wear from countless journeys.
"Good morning, my boy!" the captain's booming voice cut through the quiet.
"Good morning, captain," I replied automatically, falling into formality.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I've told you before—don't be so formal. Call me Boss. Suits me better, don't you think?" He winked, his smile disarming yet firm.
"Yes… Boss," I corrected myself, though the word felt strange on my tongue.
"Better." He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing faintly. "Now, I suppose you already know why I called you here, don't you?"
"Yes," I answered carefully, waiting for him to continue.
"Good. Today you'll be going on your very first mission as one of the Elites. Treat this not as a trial of strength but as a lesson. Watch, learn, and see what kind of challenges we face. Don't sweat it too much." His voice softened slightly, though his eyes held that same sharp glint of authority. "Good luck out there."
And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing with more questions than answers.
I turned to Miss Khushi, still unsure. "I don't mind going on a mission, but… is this really a good decision? Won't I just be a liability out there?" My words came out hesitant, almost pleading.
She studied me for a moment, her gaze steady but not unkind. "You're not being sent to fight. You're being sent to observe, to learn. Just as the captain said. No one expects you to carry the weight of the mission. That will be our job."
Her reassurance calmed me slightly, but doubt still lingered.
"Now," she continued, gesturing toward the group, "let me properly introduce your companions."
She pointed first at Krotas. "Kontas Kroti, student of the Combat Department, believer of the God of Water. He is a Phase Seven diviner—a Stream Caller."
Then to Andrew, who gave me a polite nod. "Andrew David, also of the Combat Department. Another believer of the God of Water, also Phase Seven Stream Caller."
She moved on to Vishu, who stood with a proud stance, fire practically burning in his eyes. "Vishu Dubov, Combat Department, believer of the God of Fire. Phase Seven diviner—Sparkbearer."
Finally, she gestured to the unfamiliar face. The young man inclined his head slightly, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "Krush Cami, Adventure Department, believer of the God of Wind. Phase Seven diviner—Breeze Caller."
I nodded politely to each of them, though my mind was spinning. Phase? The word clung to me, puzzling.
Miss Khushi must have noticed my confusion. "What is it?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Phase?" I asked in a low voice, hesitant.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head in mild disappointment. "You truly don't know?"
Of course I don't know! I thought bitterly. You were the one teaching me, weren't you? Whose fault is it that I haven't been taught properly? But I didn't dare speak those words aloud.
She sighed, then explained, "As you know, there are six gods. Those who gain power through devotion to them are called diviners. Their strength is measured in phases. Phase Seven is the beginning—the weakest. Phase One is the peak, the strongest. These companions of yours are all at Phase Seven."
I nodded slowly, piecing together her words.
"That's enough talk," she concluded. Her voice regained its firm, commanding tone. "Prepare yourselves. Today, you step into the world of Elites."
Her eyes swept across the group before she raised her hand slightly. "Be safe. And make others feel safe. May the Gods be with you."
It was a phrase I'd already heard often—a blessing used here not just as custom, but as genuine prayer.
We turned toward the waiting cart. The horses, strong and sleek, stamped restlessly against the cobbles. The cart itself was solidly built, made of dark wood painted black, with seats for four on either side and windows on each panel. The driver, an older man with sun-weathered skin, adjusted the reins and gave us a curious look but said nothing.
We climbed in, one by one. The seats creaked softly under our weight, the air inside faint with the scent of polished wood and leather straps. The doors shut with a muted thud, enclosing us in a small, quiet space where the tension between strangers and soon-to-be companions hung heavy.
Once everyone was settled, the driver cracked the reins, and the horses surged forward. The cart rolled across the cobblestone, wheels rattling faintly.
And together, almost instinctively, we spoke in unison:
"May the Gods be with us."
The journey had begun.