The three mounted their horses and resumed the journey. After the cliff road, G6 permitted no stops. They arrived at Greenhill Village in deep darkness.
They reined in at the village entrance.
"We must lodge here for the night," Zen observed.
"Why?" G6's stare was as cold as the dusk.
"The hour is late," Edmund interjected.
"I told you not to call me that."
"Forgive me. I find it disrespectful to address you familiarly, even by alias."
"Hmm. Then address me as Captain. That suffices?"
"It will, Captain," Zen answered. Edmund gave a firm nod. "This village seems unusually lively."
"I can feel outsiders," G6 stated.
"You can tell?" Zen's curiosity was piqued.
"Yes. I can sense the tension in the natives."
"How?"
G6 turned to him, patience thinning. "Because I can use the wind." Her sharpness made Zen fall silent.
"Let's go." G6 urged her horse forward at a slow walk.
They neared the village's edge, the source of the chatter. Zen spoke again. "We must not approach."
"Are those the knights bound for the capital?" G6 had already assessed the distant figures. "Smug bastards."
"It seems they are stopping here for the night," Edmund confirmed.
"Should we stay in the forest?"
"Wisest. We'll meet the chief tomorrow for the task seal."
The three pivoted into the thick forest, avoiding the knights' encampment.
A presence observed them.
"Hmm. Who might those three be?" a man whispered.
"Unknown. But they are actively avoiding us."
"A threat? Mercenaries?"
"Impossible to tell. Heavily cloaked. Remain vigilant. Inform Captain Kepler."
"Understood, Vice Captain Cortez."
G6's team camped deep in the forest, a secure distance from the village.
"Did you store water?" G6 asked Edmund, who tended the horses.
"Yes, Captain. Prepared, not regretful."
"You have a collection of weird things in your vault. You're not merely a butler." G6 sipped tea.
"Being a butler is etched into my soul," Edmund replied with formal sincerity.
"Yeah. Nerdy." G6 muttered.
"What do your own vault holdings consist of, Captain?" Zen asked.
"My two swords." G6's statement made them lean in, expecting more. "All I require is my weapon." She shattered the expectation.
The two nodded.
Edmund reheated the rations—two torpedo-shaped rolls—sliced in half. He and Zen split one; G6 took both halves of the other.
"Alistair's cuisine is the finest," Zen remarked.
"Indeed. The surest path to a person's heart is through the stomach," Edmund observed.
"A stupid thing to say." G6 retorted. "Is that why Janin married that ill-tempered old man? I don't comprehend people's brains."
"Captain speaks as though she is not, in fact, a person," Zen murmured to Edmund.
"Ah. Correct. You seem different from your Zero persona. He had quite a mouth."
"Unlike you, Captain. You've become colder than the Northern Region."
"Is that so? That must be why I enjoy the sight of blood. It's warm." G6's casual statement was so chilling Zen immediately choked.
The blunt comment instantly recalled the earlier carnage. Edmund provided water. G6 smirked; Zen's brief fear was a satisfactory dessert.
"Your hair is seafoam green. How is it now sage?" G6 asked, shifting subjects as if she hadn't said something profoundly disturbing.
"A magical tool."
"Hmm. Is my hair color common?" I've noticed it's rare. Haven't seen the same shade.
"No. Your hair color is a signature trait of the Duchess Worthon's family," Zen answered. "However, it's widely imitated. Many 'fakesies' throughout the Empire."
"A relief. Then I must keep my shades on." The grey eyes are the true signature. Can't be faked.
"Do you not feel blinded? You've kept them on since darkness fell," Edmund inquired.
"Ah. I've been using my Perception skill. This body is finally showing its use." A faint hint of pride.
G6's body was rapidly acclimating. Without mana restraint, she could manipulate abilities at will. Fatigue was little more than muscle soreness. The only forbidden affinity: Cryomancy.
The three talked of staff and magic tools, G6's curiosity piqued as she plotted a future project, weighing which pawn could craft the weapon she missed most.
The calm night air shifted, heavy and grim.
"Hmm. The dogs?" G6 referred to the wolves.
Echo Trace.
The winds scouted the oppressive feeling. Not far. Movements… indistinct.
"I cannot discern them. Cannot gauge number or movements."
"A full pack," Edmund said, cleaning and securing implements.
"Ah. Correct." G6's tone shifted to command. "You two, memorize this code. Use it at all times. Code Blue: enemy presence. Code Red: disadvantageous situation. Code Black: opponent too strong."
"Understood."
"Utilize military time for direction." This world doesn't use it. A secure secret code.
"What is this, Captain?" Zen asked, perplexed.
"Simple. Time here is 01 to 12. We use 13 to 24."
"Do you not employ military time in battle?"
"No. We use 'behind you,' 'at your back.'"
"Are you stupid? You'll use it now. My time system for security. Understood?"
"Understood." They surrendered to her bizarre, functional codes.
"Good. Now, investigate the disgusting aura. Be cautious; my wind can't detail their movements for a reason."
The two nodded, pulling up hoods. Zen extinguished the campfire. Edmund secured horses. G6 led toward the ominous presence.
❈.❈.❈
Perception. Whisper of Gale. Echo Trace.
G6's eyes, sharp behind darkened lenses, traced the gloom as she flowed through the canopy. A predator's silent grace, wind cushioning leaps between towering trees. She mapped erratic movements below, hushed commands carried to the two men.
They moved faster, deeper—three shadows in the canopy. The ominous aura grew stronger.
"This path leads to the village," Edmund observed, voice a thread in the wind.
"Could it be...?" Zen murmured.
"Unusual. Descending toward the village. Wolves aren't this aggressive unless they are starving."
"They behave suspiciously. Drawn to something specific."
"Do these villages have a teleportation tool?" G6 sought tactical info.
"The forest feels… normal. Natural prey gone?"
"One possibility," Zen conceded.
"Orders, Captain?" Edmund asked.
"Let them proceed. Knights are present. I'm… curious."
"A bad feeling," Zen murmured.
"I sense magic on those pups. I wonder what it is. Move."
They followed from above as the pack moved rapidly down the slope. Nearing the village, the wolves became immediately aggressive—eyes horrifying crimson, running rabid.
"Hmm. May consume a few villagers," G6 commented dispassionately, never breaking her rhythmic flight.
The trio stopped at the forest's edge, perched high with a clear vantage. Edmund and Zen watched with palpable anxiety, sensing ominous magical traces.
G6 stood perfectly still on a thick limb opposite, calmly leaning against the trunk, arms crossed. An impassive mask, but in the set of her jaw, a cold, keen anticipation. Her hidden eyes seemed to drink in the scene with quiet, terrifying excitement.
Whisper of Gale. Echo Trace.
Distant chattering of knights, calm voices of villagers, reached as mere whispers.
"A play without audio is boring," G6 commented. Zen and Edmund looked confused by her focus.
"They near the edge," Zen whispered, dread coiling.
"Why distressed? They're Knights. Nobles." G6 dismissive, focus never leaving.
"Captain, perhaps… interested in their elemental affinities?" Edmund probed.
G6 offered a sharp, satisfied smirk. "You truly know me, Eddie."
The first pack reached the perimeter. A woman carrying tankards shrieked: "AHHH!"
Lively chatter fractured into panic. "GET INSIDE!" a knight bellowed.
"CALL THE CAPTAIN AND VICE CAPTAIN NOW!" another yelled.
Wolves hissed, attacking men while other packs targeted livestock.
"Certain they're knights?" G6 murmured, unimpressed by disorganization.
A few knights advanced, coating swords with elemental affinities.
"Hmm. Some use four elementals. I thought only direct descendants could?"
"Branch families can manifest, but with far less potency. Second cousins are the limit. Power pales before the main house." Zen explained. "Such individuals often become knights, not Sanctum mages. Channeling affinity through a weapon offers greater control than pure spellcraft."
"Tedious. This world runs on pedigree." G6 observed flatly. "And look—that child just had his leg bitten for it."
They watched knights struggle. A wolf slain would shimmer, reconstitute, rise again.
"A resurrection spell," G6 diagnosed.
"Agreed," said Zen.
"Are we not intervening, Captain?" Edmund fought his instinct.
"Why should we? They bore me with their incompetence."
Zen's eyes widened. "Dire! Every respawn, they grow stronger!"
"Becoming more aggressive, losing predatory instincts," Edmund observed grimly.
Knights grew exhausted. "FUCK THIS! WHAT ARE THEY, UNDEAD?!"
"DO NOT TELL ME THEY ARE MONSTERS!"
An enormous Alpha Wolf walked from shadows, drooling, eyes glowing demonic blood-red. Knights in the front row visibly crushed by its oppressive aura.
The Alpha charged, sinking teeth into a Knight's arm. "AHHH! FUCK!"
Others panicked, pulling the injured man out. The fight about to restart when waves of water shaped like blades sliced through the pack.
"Hmm. Now that's interesting." G6 whispered, a flicker of genuine amusement.
She didn't blink at the lost arm, but this catches her attention, Zen thought, cold understanding dawning.
"Forgive the delay. We were investigating a disturbance. Report." A new, authoritative voice. Five figures arrived.
"Those are?" G6 asked.
"Captain Kepler De Lune, Vice Captain Cortez, Lieutenants Libert, Thonson, and Nocturne." Zen identified, tone neutral. "Kepler is Lord Keith's elder brother. Cortez, a third son. Nocturne, a tertiary branch." G6 noted Zen's subtle tension at the house tied to his father.
"And Thonson?"
"I thought you would know, Captain. Lieutenant Thonson is from the second branch of Worthon. Your cousin."
"Is that so?" Of course I wouldn't. Reise's memories aren't part of the package.
"They are called the 'Five Angels.'"
G6 let out a short, derisive laugh. "Five Angels? Let's see if they can sing—"
Her words severed by reality. A spear of pure lightning, cast by Libert, obliterated a cluster of wolves. As beasts began their eerie respawn, a fireball the size of a cottage, hurled by Cortez, engulfed them. Thonson followed with a whirlwind that superheated flames. Nocturne raised earthen bulwarks to shield huts.
"My first time witnessing them in combat. They live up to reputation," Edmund conceded.
A ragged cheer went up as wolf corpses remained still. Nocturne lowered walls. Crisis seemed over.
"THOSE DAMNED WOLVES ARE NOTHING TO OUR FIVE ANGELS!" a Knight bellowed.
"Silence! Secure perimeter." Cortez barked.
A tense calm. Kepler attended the grievously wounded man. For ten minutes, hope held.
Then corpses twitched. Shadowy tendrils, black as void-stuff, coiled from earth, wrapping around reforming beasts. Their auras exploded, dense and suffocating, a palpable wave of viciousness making the earlier threat feel like a childish prank.
"What in the hell?" Libert cried, fear spiking.
"No jest. Malice intensified tenfold." Cortez's face ashen.
The Five Angels reformed line. Libert raised a hand, gathering crackling energy. A wolf, moving faster than sight, charged for his exposed throat.
Time slowed. A collective gasp. Fear in knights' eyes—the certain prelude to tragedy.
It never came.
A cloaked figure materialized between Libert and death—a phantom from treetops. A boot connected with the wolf's jaw, snapping its head back. In the same fluid motion, a blade plunged into its heart. The beast dissolved into black smoke, leaving a cracked, crimson marble rolling in dirt.
Silence, profound and stunned.
The figure stood a few paces ahead, a statue of dark cloth and quiet menace. She raised a hand. Two more shadows dropped from the canopy, landing without sound.
Then they moved. Not knights; predators. They flowed through the respawning pack with terrifying, efficient violence, movements enhanced by pure combat magic of a different school of war.
"Who are they...?" Nocturne breathed.
"The suspicious subjects," Cortez hissed.
G6 did not join the slaughter. She watched, a silent conductor, as her two men dismantled the pack with brutal grace. The Alpha, recognizing its weakness has been found, immediately retreated into forest cover.
"You dare run from me?" G6's whisper was colder than the retreating shadow.
A sharp whistle—a fallback command. Her two hunters finished, melted into darkness. Then G6 was simply gone, a faint swirl of disturbed earth where she stood. The others vanished with her.
"AFTER THEM!" Kepler's command tore through stunned silence.
Libert, Cortez, Thonson broke into a sprint, chasing ghosts into the dark.
The Five Angels fought with glory—spectacular elemental spells to overwhelm and awe. Knights in a shining line.
The trio fought to erase. Movements held no flourish, only silent, surgical finality. Not warriors in light, but the sharp, sudden dark that comes after.
The knights were left with the echo of violence, the taste of their own fragility, and the chilling certainty: the real predators that night had not been the wolves, but the shadows that came to cull them. The chase was on, but it felt less like a pursuit and more like moths drawn into a greater, darker flame.
—To Be Continued…—