"Hey, rookie, get up here!" a man shouted. His voice was fierce and harsh.
Opening the door a young man stepped in. Tall, broad-shouldered, bulky, strong. He snapped to attention and saluted the one who had yelled.
"Yes sir, Baron."
"At ease," Baron said. After a short pause, he continued, "You've been stationed in the battle unit right after training. You must be quite strong. In our regimen, most people become guards first, spend a few years there, gain experience, and only then join a battle unit. Getting placed here right after training is impressive. Even I didn't achieve that. So I guess you're going to be stronger than I ever was, huh?"
"No, sir, I could never hope to surpass you. Your achievements during BATTLE ACT-1 were remarkable," the rookie said humbly.
"My achievements during ACT-1 were indeed extraordinary," Baron admitted, "I killed many of those fury-driven elites of the clan. But I checked your stats, and they beat mine by a huge margin from when I was your age. They're so good that you're second only to a few elites… and Lord Heir."
"I feel extremely honored being placed in the same list as Lord Heir. He's an incredibly talented individual… carefully crafted by God himself."
"Oh, that's true. H is powerful. I'm sure he's stronger right now than I was in my prime."
"Sir…" the soldier said, shocked. After a pause he added, "I know he's capable, but stronger than you in your glory days? I didn't think the gap between us was that big…"
"You're already stronger than I am right now. Give yourself some credit, boy. They're elites, with better resources than you. To make it this far on your own is an achievement. And I know you're wondering why someone with your talent ended up in a battle unit with no major battles or guarding assignments."
"Yes, sir. That thought crossed my mind. But I trust the allocation team. They're some of our best, so I don't expect any miscalculations."
"You're right." Baron leaned back slightly. "We're guarding two prisoners here. Survivors from ACT-1. Some of those filthy, rage-driven beasts escaped us."
The young soldier's eyes widened. A pulse of disbelief hit him like a physical blow.
"Survivors…?" he whispered, the shock settling cold and sharp in his chest. "I didn't know there were any. I was just a kid when it happened, but everyone talked about it. It was the most horrifying cleanse I've ever heard of."
He swallowed hard, voice trembling. "They said our clan head finally decided to put an end to them… an attack that wiped out an entire clan."
"Yeah… we still don't know who ordered it," Baron said quietly. "But the operation was led by our strongest, Lord L. He handpicked the team, gathered the resources, and carried the mission all the way to the end. He faced their rival, the strongest of their clan, Lord F. It was a merciless battle. No room for mistakes. No room for hesitation. A true nightmare for everyone involved."
His jaw tightened as he continued.
"Anyway… these rats were spotted in the city a while back, acting suspicious. When they were caught and interrogated with our advanced tech, it was revealed that these remnants of their clan…"
The soldier's lips tightened. "So that's why they weren't executed immediately, and why a war hero and other top soldiers are stationed here — to use the prisoners as bait, to draw out any others."
"Exactly." Baron's voice snapped back into command. "So stay sharp. One careless moment and you'll be dead — and the mission will fail. And let me be perfectly clear: failure in my presence will not be tolerated." He slammed the last word down like a gavel.
Rudy swallowed and snapped a crisp salute. "YES SIR!!"
He left Baron's office and headed toward his post. A small group of soldiers fell in beside him. One of them — fair, confident, early-twenties — stepped forward with a grin.
"Hello. Zack, grade 3, tier 4." He offered his hand like he expected it to impress.
"Rudy," the younger man said, shaking it. "Grade 1, tier 4."
A hush went through the group. Grade measured battle experience from 1 to 5; tier measured skill from 1 to 6. Zack's tier was impressive for his age, but Rudy's combination — barely any battle experience yet already tier 4 — left the others staring.
"Wow," Zack said, genuinely surprised. "No wonder the captain wanted to meet you on your first day.You must be strong.."
"I can handle myself," Rudy replied, calm and steady. "Two people of the same tier can be very different. I'm hoping to learn a lot from you."
"Likewise." Zack's grin turned respectful. He patted Rudy on the shoulder. "A bit of advice. Those survivors are dangerous. We still don't know what abilities they have. Our mind-reading tech can only get us so far. In a few days they'll be moved to a proper facility, but until then, if any of their friends come to rescue them… don't show mercy."
"You don't have to worry about that," Rudy said, his smile sharpening. "The only thing I'll be showing them is my sword piercing their heart."
Zack's eyes flashed with approval, and a low whoop rose from the others. The group broke apart into their patrol routes, carrying the tight, cold anticipation that came before a hunt.
A few days passed.
The prison facility sat in the city's outer section — a tight, fortified compound with a one-kilometer radius and a high, guarded wall. Twenty-five to thirty elite soldiers, tiers two through four, watched over just two prisoners.
That night, during the usual rounds, Zack and Rudy fell in beside Luke and Zimmy. Conversation drifted, then Zimmy and Luke said they were going to check on the prisoners.
"I know what you're doing to those prisoners," Zack warned as he fell into step with them. "If anything happens to them while you were there… I don't think the captain or Lord H will let you live to regret it."
Zimmy's smile was thin. "I'll make those rats regret being born," he said, voice low. "But I won't kill them — they're our intel. Not because I'm scared of anyone." He met Zack's gaze, expression hard as flint.
Zack nodded. Luke and Zimmy continued toward the inner compound.
A few minutes later a figure moved out of the dark — a fragile, lean boy with an indifferent expression. He looked almost ordinary: average height, narrow shoulders.
Zack and Rudy watched a guard step toward the boy, demanding to know who he was and why he was there.
In the same instant, something clicked between them — a boy like that shouldn't even be inside the facility. Their instincts flared.
They sprinted.
A heartbeat later their blades tore through flesh and bone. The slashes were clean, perfect, almost effortless. The body split neatly into two halves on the ground.
Confident in their strikes, they adjusted their swords and turned to confirm the kill.
But the body lying at their feet was missing its head.
Both of them stiffened, stances tightening.
Slowly, they turned back toward the darkness.
A few meters away, the boy stood calmly, holding the severed head in his hand as if it were nothing more than a package someone asked him to deliver. He wasn't even breathing hard. The two soldiers exchanged a sharp look — they understood. The boy had cut the head in the same instant he dodged both their attacks, using the guard's collapsing body as cover.
Shock rippled through them, cold and electric.
Rudy exhaled, barely a whisper. "Here it begins."