–Year 1000–
–Present Time–
–Holy Empire–
The sky above the Holy Empire had turned a dull ash-gray, as though even the heavens themselves had chosen silence over witness.
Beyond the horizon, a black line stretched across the land.
An army.
Endless. Unbroken. Unrushed.
They did not march with urgency.
They did not need to.
Each step landed in perfect rhythm, rolling across the plains like a distant drum that had no beginning and no end. A sound that carried not fear—but inevitability.
Inside the forward command post, tension pressed against every wall, thick enough to suffocate thought.
"Commander!"
A young soldier burst through the doors, breath ragged, voice cracking under strain.
"They're here! At the horizon—they're marching toward us!"
For a moment, everything froze.
The commander closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as though accepting something long expected.
"Warn the archbishops and our citi—"
He stopped.
Because someone was already behind him.
No footsteps.
No warning.
No presence.
Just… there.
The commander stiffened..
A hand rested on his head—light, almost gentle. Yet the pressure beneath it silenced even resistance before it could form.
"I'll handle them," the man said evenly. "I was sent by the Holy Church."
The young soldier's eyes widened.
"…A47?"
His voice trembled.
"Holy Knight representing Gemini?"
The man did not respond.
He simply released the commander and turned away, as if the moment had already been concluded.
"Warn the soldiers outside," he said coldly.
"Once I step beyond these walls… I will slaughter everyone."
The soldier swallowed hard.
Then bowed his head.
"Yes, sir."
And left in haste.
Fack–
A47 is one of the Holy Knights representing Gemini.
He is not a singular existence, but a manufactured clone—one fragment of a larger system created by the Holy Church.
Unlike combat-focused units, A47 exists for observation and transmission.
He gathers information.
He delivers messages.
He ensures the Church's will reaches every corner without delay.
He rarely fights.
Because his purpose is not destruction.
It is inevitability through awareness.
Outside, the army had already stopped.
At the front lines, a leader raised his hand.
"We camp here," he said calmly. "We attack at sunset."
Orders spread instantly. Tents rose. Weapons were checked. Firelight flickered into existence. The war machine settled into a patient, suffocating stillness.
Then—
Something broke it.
A silhouette stood ahead in the mist.
Alone.
Motionless.
Watching.
The rebel commander narrowed his eyes.
Without hesitation, he raised his hand.
A signal.
From the ranks, a man stepped forward.
Twin blades scraped against the ground with a slow metallic drag.
Isaac.
"Isaac," the commander said firmly.
"Kill him. No hesitation."
Isaac smirked.
"Understood, Chief."
Then he moved.
And vanished into the fog.
Even his allies could no longer track him. Only faint distortions in the mist hinted at movement.
The silhouette did not react.
Did not shift.
Did not acknowledge him at all.
Isaac closed in.
And for the first time—
His expression changed.
Fear flickered.
Brief. Unwelcome.
But his blades were already falling.
A silver arc tore through the fog.
The head dropped cleanly.
Then the body followed.
Silence.
Isaac exhaled, lowering his blades.
"…So that's it."
He turned away.
And the camp erupted.
"Isaac!"
"He did it!"
Cheers exploded across the battlefield. Relief surged like wildfire. For a moment, hope returned to men who had nearly forgotten its shape.
Through thinning mist, Isaac walked back.
Then—
He stopped.
Completely.
No movement.
No sound.
Only stillness.
Warmth spread across his abdomen.
Slow.
Burning.
Isaac looked down.
An arm had pierced through him from behind.
Blood dripped into the soil beneath his feet.
His breath caught.
"…What…?"
Behind him stood the figure.
Unharmed.
Expressionless.
Isaac's eyes widened.
Then he collapsed.
The corpse he had beheaded still lay ahead in the mist.
But the one behind him had never died.
The cheering died instantly.
"Isaac…?"
"What's happening?!"
Panic spread through the ranks like a disease.
A mage stepped forward, trembling violently.
"Shit… shit…"
He raised his staff.
"Ken Magic: En Flamo!"
A massive fireball erupted forward, devouring the figure—and Isaac's position—in an explosion of flame.
Heat rippled across the battlefield, warping the air itself.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Only fire.
Only silence.
Then slowly, the fog began to thin.
The mage exhaled.
Fact
Ken Magic is a form of life energy manipulation.
It converts internal life energy into different elemental or physical energy types, allowing the user to manifest effects such as fire, and other altered energy states depending on compatibility and control.
The smoke continued to fade.
And within it—
Something still stood.
Not alone.
One figure had become several.
No—
Dozens.
Men dressed in identical black suits stood motionless within the fading haze.
The mage stepped back.
"…What are those things?"
One stepped forward.
"I am A519."
His voice was calm.
Empty.
"Holy Knight representing Gemini."
A pause.
Then—
"I was sent here to slaughter you all."
His head tilted slightly.
"I will be generous."
A beat.
"I will allow you to leave."
His hand lowered.
"…Now."
The mage's breath broke.
"Stop! Get back!"
"Ken Magic: En Thundre!"
Lightning tore through the air, striking directly at A519.
But the figure only tilted slightly.
The bolt passed harmlessly into the fog.
The mage froze.
Then he heard it.
A sound like reality splitting.
Like something multiplying inside the world itself.
The figure in front of him… was changing.
He blinked.
Once.
Now there were two.
Then four.
Then more.
The mage staggered backward, horror tightening his throat.
Behind A519, the entire formation began to move.
Slow.
Perfect.
Synchronized.
As if every body shared a single will.
And then—
Every voice spoke at once.
"I am a Holy Knight representing Gemini."
The fog trembled.
The battlefield fell silent once more.
To be continued…