After some time, the vehicle dispatched by the organization where the agent in white worked finally arrived.
Though unwilling, he was forced to bring them along.
The ground was painted red with blood… such was the world.
Battle and death were constants in this world, that was the reality.
Those who adapt would survive.
Those who clung to ideals, living in fantasy beyond reality, would face the truth of this world: an unwilling death.
"Shhh… don't cry, poor child. One day, you'll return all that was done to you…"
It took several days before he reached the main base.
"Welcome back, Agent Darian. I trust the mission was a success? Any complications?"
"Hahahahahaha…"
He laughed wholeheartedly — not out of arrogance, but because he truly was that strong.
"For me to have complications on a mission, someone of a level close to the Commander himself would have to appear."
"I suppose that's impossible… my mistake, just trying to make conversation."
He raised his hand, signaling his understanding and that there was no need to apologize.
"Ah, before I forget — the Commander requested you. He wants to hear the details directly."
"Hm… very well. Where is he now?"
"At the moment, he's conducting the morning routine with the new recruits. You may approach him directly."
"Strange… but I'll go. The children I'll leave to you."
They weren't much younger than him, maybe only a few years' difference. Yet he still addressed them as if they were nothing more than children. Why? Because to him, their strength was insignificant.
He passed through the main building, walking past the many specialized divisions, until he arrived at the combat training grounds.
"HU! HU! HA!"
The so-called students of the organization were in training with one purpose: to one day become agents.
Of course, that task was far harder than it sounded.
An agent must master every form of combat — hand-to-hand, pistol, rifle, sword, as well as every other weapon that existed. At the same time, they needed a body capable of enduring every type of battle.
Today was the day they would be learning the way of the sword.
The Commander barked:
"ATTENTION!"
Everyone turned toward him, halting their training.
"Today you will train one thing — and only one thing. If I see anyone focus on anything else, I'll send them into the Cavern of Realization!"
The Commander shouted, showing his seriousness.
"The Cavern of Realization??"
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
"What could be so serious?"
The Commander raised his blade, taking the starting stance.
"I'll demonstrate once. Don't miss a single detail."
The students fixed their eyes on him.
In the next moments, the Commander displayed Forms 1 through 3 of the Nexus sword style, specially crafted by the greatest swordsmen of the organization since its founding days.
The students watched his movements with intense focus.
After some time, the Commander halted, turning back to the crowd with a stern expression.
The students understood and sharpened their attention further.
"I don't expect you to perform this today. Think of it as a gift for your welcome."
The Commander steadied himself, deep breaths in… and out.
And then —
His eyes sharpened, his energy shifted and his sword began to tremble.
"AH! AH! AHHHHHH!"
Black mist clouded the vision of the students.
"COMMANDER!"
Several shouted out.
But in the very next moment, with one slash of his sword, the mist was cut in half, clearing the space.
The once-obscured field was laid bare, revealing the transformation that had taken place.
The Commander was different. Taller, his muscles more defined, his stance more powerful.
They weren't imagining it.
At the same time, his sword had turned crimson, faint red energy orbiting its surface.
"Huuu…"
The Commander exhaled.
"This form is called Axiom."
"It occurs when you begin to grasp your individual reason for living, and pair it with your weapon. Symbolizing that you are ready to fight for your world."
The more you understand the reason for your existence, the stronger your Axiom will be."
The crowd stared at him in awe.
The form he revealed wasn't far from perfection in their eyes.
That towering figure, broad shoulders, uniform unfitting of his newly acquired body, and the sharp definition of his face…
To consider the Commander as anything less than the living incarnation of the god of war would be an understatement.
Several swallowed their tongues in reverence.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Both the Commander and the students turned their eyes toward the agent leaning casually against the wall on the left side of the training hall, near the entrance.
"Ah! Darian! I didn't expect you back so soon!"
The Commander spoke, shifting his attention back to the students.
"Resume your training," he ordered with a stern expression.
The recruits quickly returned to formation and continued their drills.
Turning his gaze back to Darian, the Commander said:
"We have business, Darian. From this point, you'll answer every question I ask with the utmost precision."
His expression sharpened, his eyes cutting into Darian like the edge of his crimson blade.
The Commander still held his Axiom form, sending a shiver up Darian's spine.
"O-of course, Commander…"