Moonlight hung low over western Aurelia. The footsteps of Rhea, Ilya, and the four elite soldiers echoed softly as they approached the main gate.
"Captain Mike," Rhea called.
Mike halted mid-step.
"Would you be willing to tell me…" Rhea continued, his tone serious, "what kind of terror that mage cult actually brings?"
Silence.
Mike turned slowly. His gaze was cold—like untempered steel. "What do you gain from knowing that?" he replied shortly.
Rhea stepped closer by one pace. "Nothing."
That answer made Mike pause. Ilya moved closer as well, remaining silent.
Brown, Ozu, and Seke continued walking a few steps behind, deliberately keeping their distance.
"Hah…" Mike let out a long breath and clasped both hands behind his head. The chill in his voice eased.
"Four years ago," he finally said, "not long after King Vassie de Aurel XII ascended the throne… our world began to crack."
They resumed walking, slower now.
"Frontier villages vanished. Flattened. Terrorists appeared in cities. People went mad without reason."
Rhea listened without interrupting. Ilya lowered her gaze.
"At first, we thought they were bandits," Mike gave a short, humorless laugh.
"Until the capital itself turned into a nightmare." He stopped again.
"Figures in black cloaks appeared out of nowhere. Fire. Lightning. The ground twisting. Disease spreading through the air. All from a single movement of the hand."
"Sigils…" Ilya murmured.
Mike nodded.
"Those cursed symbols. Once they're formed… destruction follows."
"Twelve hours," Mike continued. "Just twelve hours, and half the capital became rubble."
Rhea frowned. "And the palace?"
"Untouched," Mike answered instantly. The air grew colder.
"And on the land where homes once stood," he said quietly, "a message appeared."
Mike stared forward, as if still seeing it.
Return what you were never meant to possess.
"No one knew what it meant," he went on. "But it was clearly a threat." He lowered his hands.
"From that day on, the king sealed the kingdom. Wanderers were forbidden entry. Gates reinforced. Except for Sector Zero…"
"Which we dealt with yesterday."
Rhea fell silent.
"The cult calling itself Fracture no longer attacks on a large scale," Mike said.
"They choose frontier villages. Small gates. Unprepared guards." He glanced at Rhea.
"And every time they appear… bodies follow." Their steps neared the gate.
"That's why the council proposed a solution." Mike's voice hardened again.
"Criminals with above-average ability. Death row or not—it doesn't matter. Sent to the front line. To missions that don't require return."
"In four years," he continued, "hundreds have died." He stopped right before the gate.
"The kingdom no longer needs executioners." Mike turned to Rhea and Ilya.
"They die because of missions."
Silence.
"Including the eight from earlier." Mike gave a bitter chuckle, then fell quiet.
They finally entered Sector Eight, where the main barracks stood.
Along the way, Rhea spoke again.
His fists were clenched tight. His jaw stiffened, veins faintly visible at his temples beneath the moonlight.
Ilya glanced at him. Something about Rhea felt different now—sharper, darker.
"Sir…" Rhea said. He stopped walking.
"Hm?" Mike replied.
"Do you know," Rhea's voice was low, "why I chose to become a wanderer?" Rhea lowered his head, staring at the ground, his expression hard.
"Sanhara. No—more than that. The southern desert continent."
"It was destroyed by mages as well."
Mike froze before he could even ask why. His eyes widened.
The three elites behind them heard it too—clearly shaken. Ilya instinctively covered her mouth with both hands.
"They flooded the desert with a strange, lethal substance," Rhea continued coldly, colder than Mike had been earlier.
"Turning the desert air into poison…"
Night wind blew. Moonlight dimmed behind clouds.
"They destroyed homes. Kidnapped children. Some of us managed to escape…"
"Including me." Unconsciously, Rhea's eyes grew wet.
"The survivors formed groups and wandered, abandoning the desert." Slowly, the tension in his body eased. His clenched fists loosened.
"And that's how… I ended up here."
Brown stepped closer. "Don't tell me…"
Ozu and Seke followed.
"But Aurelia and Sanhara are extremely far apart," Ozu interjected. "How could Fracture reach that place?"
Seke stepped even closer, placing a hand on Rhea's shoulder. "How many years ago was that?"
Rhea looked at him. "About three years… ago."
"That was one year after the capital tragedy," Mike said.
Rhea resumed walking, as if he hadn't said anything. Ilya followed him with small steps.
"It's possible those mages are spread everywhere," Ilya began.
"Even in the eastern islands where I'm from, they exist as well."
"Different names, different factions… perhaps." They continued forward together.
Mike snorted.
"People like that…"his voice rose, cut by anger. "Just chanting nonsense, and destruction falls from the sky."
Rhea lifted his head, his eyes dry again.
In silence, a question took root in his mind.
Are the mages who destroyed Sanhara the same ones terrorizing Aurelia?
That thought stayed with him.
Fortunately, Rhea was not an official criminal.
During the walk, Mike explained some of the benefits.
If they succeeded in gathering information—or even ending the terror—Rhea would be granted habitable land in Aurelia.
Ilya, too, would have her status as an enemy of the kingdom pardoned.
That promise was what pushed them forward.
Even so, Rhea understood the consequences.
…
They stopped before the main barracks.
Yanesh was already waiting.
"Well, well…" he said flatly. "A new deadly weapon has arrived."
Mike stepped forward and saluted. "Supreme Commander Yanesh. Mission complete," he said, bowing slightly.
The night air grew colder. Torch flames danced, casting shifting shadows.
"Good. You may rest now—Mike, Brown, Ozu, Seke."
The four elite soldiers departed, leaving Ilya and Rhea behind. Rhea scratched his head.
"Didn't Mike say Yanesh was laid-back? Why so formal all of a sudden…?" he thought.
Yanesh grinned.
"Rhea and Ilya. Congratulations. You are now officially members of Aurelia's secret unit."
He turned and gestured for them to follow. After a few steps inside, Yanesh stopped before a door.
~Kreeeet
The hinges creaked sharply. Air rushed out as the dark interior slowly brightened under torchlight.
Yanesh entered, followed by Rhea and Ilya. "These will be your comrades," he said.
"Rusk." A scar-covered man with shoulder-length hair and a face mask, leaning against the stone wall.
"Morr." A shorter man wearing a forward-tied hood, sitting some distance away.
"Feina." An adult woman with long blond hair, sitting cross-legged on a chair near the door.
"And Kael." A man in a plain royal military uniform, no accessories. His face was grim, hollowed cheeks hinting at deep depression.
"This is Unit 166, as recorded in my personal documents."
"May fortune favor you…"
Rhea surveyed the room. In the darkness, several guards stood watch.
"Eh? So we can finally leave now?" Feina spoke up.
"We've been locked in here for twelve hours!" She crossed her arms.
"Not yet. I'll give two more hours for Rhea and Ilya to get acquainted," Yanesh replied flatly.
"Tch. Whatever," Rusk snorted.
Kael remained silent, eyes closed though clearly awake.
From the far end of the room, Morr suddenly leapt—landing right in front of Rhea, Ilya, and Yanesh.
"Hm… so this is the one you meant, Commander Yanesh?"
Yanesh nodded.
"Do as you like tonight. I'm leaving." He exited, closing the door behind him.
In his heart, Rhea realized—These people were far more than ordinary criminals.