CHAPTER 11: THE ARRIVAL OF THE ASSOCIATION
"NARRATOR POV"
"Whew..."
Dawn stood in the center of the scorched carriage, his chest heaving. The adrenaline that had fueled his movements was beginning to drain away, leaving behind a cold, hollow ache. He looked down at his hands, which were still trembling slightly.
He was really getting close, he thought, his eyes fixed on the unconscious Curse User. Too close. If he hadn't stayed down after that last blast, I would have had to let "Him" out. Thankfully, he didn't survive that attack... or at least, he won't be getting up anytime soon.
Suddenly, the world seemed to tilt.
"Aargh... my stomach," Dawn groaned. A sharp, searing pain tore through his midsection the physical price of hosting the King of Souls. It felt as if a hot iron was being pressed against his spine from the inside out. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, his vision swimming in shades of grey. He reached out, his fingers brushing the canvas of his case, before the darkness finally claimed him.
12:54:59 — TRAIN FORCE STOP
LOCATION: MARAN-BELGARD BORDER
The massive locomotive screeched to a final, jarring halt. The tracks groaned under the sudden friction, sending up plumes of white steam that hissed into the cold afternoon air. Within minutes, the perimeter was swarming.
"Wow... what is going on here?" a traveler on the station platform asked, peering through the iron gates. "Did something happen to the express?"
"Based on what I could gather so far," a passerby replied, leaning in close, "some group hijacked the train. Word is, it was a total bloodbath inside, but it was resolved by a few people who were already on board. Some say they were Sorcerers."
On the tracks, two men stood watching the steam clear. One wore a sharp black suit that looked out of place in the industrial wasteland of the border. He was tapping a cigarette against a silver case.
"It looks like the recovery teams are here now," his partner said, nodding toward a fleet of black armored vehicles rolling onto the gravel.
Inside the train, the reality was much grimmer.
"Boss... what should we do now?" Zach one of the hijackers whimpered. He was huddled on the floor of the second compartment, his hands zip-tied behind his back. "We're busted. It's the Sorcerer Association. Even the contact team the guys we were supposed to meet for the hand off they've vanished. They left us here to rot!"
"Shut the hell up, you piece of shit!" the Boss screamed. He was also tied up, his face swollen from Dawn's earlier punch. His expensive suit was torn, and his stacks of Zen were scattered across the floor like trash. "How fucking pathetic can you guys be? Do you have any idea how much I paid you for this job? I hired professionals, not cowards!"
The Boss strained against his restraints, his eyes bulging with rage. "They were nothing but kids! Cadets! And you guys had guns! Was it all just for show? This isn't the first time you've fought a Sorcerer, so tell me how did a bunch of teenagers take down thirty grown men?"
"Boss... we tried, but—"
"Fuck!" the Boss interrupted, spitting blood onto the carpet. "If it wasn't for that kid. The one with the slim case and the narrow eyes. If he hadn't shown up, we'd be halfway to the capital by now. He wasn't human. He was something else entirely."
"Sorry, Boss," the men muttered in a chorus of defeat.
"Sorry my foot! Now we're all going to rot in a high-security hole because of a brat!"
"Hey. Quiet down."
The voice was sharp and cold, instantly silencing the room. A man stepped into the compartment, leaning against the doorframe. He wore the official silver-trimmed duster of the Association. His name was Luke Blight, a Senior Investigator.
"You have a lot to say for someone who just got his life handed to him by a student," Luke said, checking his watch. "You'll have all the time in the world to chat with our interrogators once the transport arrives. Until then, keep your strength. You're going to need it for the sentencing."
A flurry of footsteps sounded in the hallway. Luke straightened up as a group of high-ranking Sorcerers entered the car.
"Welcome," a voice said.
"Good work, everyone. Sorry for being late; we got caught up on the way by the higher-ups."
The speaker was a woman with sharp, commanding features and her hair tied back in a severe bun. She moved with the unmistakable grace for a Sorcerer. "Have you finished sorting out the case, Investigator Blight?"
"Yes, Captain," Luke replied, snapping into a respectful salute. "Including the leader of the perpetrators, we have a total of twenty-four gang members in custody. Their main objective was confirmed: they were here to capture the passengers on board and sell them off to the northern markets."
The Captain's eyes narrowed as she looked at the Boss, who shrank back under her gaze. "Human trafficking. Disgusting. And the casualties?"
"That's the strange part, Captain," Luke said, rubbing his chin. "Since some of our Cadets were on board the train heading to the headquarters for the exams, they were able to intervene. They took down the entire Syndicate without a single civilian casualty. However..."
Luke paused, looking at a report on his tablet.
"However, what?" the Captain asked.
"One of the Cadets, Alina Glade, is in critical condition. But the one who finished the fight... he's not on our official roster for this transport. We found him unconscious next to a high-level Curse User who has been beaten into a pulp. The power readings from that section of the train are... off the charts."
The Captain walked over to the window, looking out at the stretching horizon of the Northern District. "Off the charts, you say? It seems this year's exam is going to be far more interesting than we anticipated."