The Imperial soldier's uniform was immaculate. Solid black plates trimmed with gold filigree, braided cords hanging from one shoulder, and a short cape draped neatly along his left side. The armor was not bulky like a front-line trooper's, but refined, ceremonial, as if it existed to be seen rather than to protect. His helmet was the most unsettling part. The visor was a single pane of reflective black glass, smooth and unreadable, while the rest of the helm looked sculpted from obsidian rather than forged.
He stepped fully into the cottage without asking permission.
The wooden floor creaked beneath his boots, the sound absurdly loud in the sudden silence. His sabre remained sheathed at his hip, polished hilt catching the lamplight, while in his left hand he casually held an open book, flipping a page as if he were browsing a menu.
Jake and Lucas reacted instantly.
Jake's hands moved before his thoughts did. His spear snapped up, point leveled straight at the soldier's chest, muscles tightening as his breath slowed. Lucas was even faster. The moment the door crossed the threshold, Lucas lunged forward, blade flashing in a clean, practiced arc aimed for the neck.
The strike never landed.
When the blade came within inches of the Imperial soldier, it rebounded violently, as if it had struck solid stone. A sharp metallic ring echoed through the room. For a fraction of a second, a faint hexagonal pattern shimmered in the air between Lucas and the soldier, translucent and pale blue, before vanishing completely.
Magic.
The word slammed into Jake's mind like a hammer.
Magic was supposed to be gone. Not weakened. Not rare. Gone. What little remained was locked behind bloodlines and absolute authority. The only people who could still wield it freely were imperial generals or members of the imperial family itself.
And the man standing in their living room moved like it was nothing more than a convenience.
"Oh my," the soldier said mildly, his voice smooth and unhurried. "That was rather rude."
He finally looked up from his book, tilting his head slightly, visor reflecting the drawn weapons, the tense faces, the faint glow of aether lamps. His posture was relaxed, almost bored, as if he had wandered into a tavern instead of a den of hunted beyonders.
"Let us all calm down," he continued. "I am not here to hurt you."
Lucas staggered back a few steps, eyes wide, grip tightening on his sword. Jake did not lower his spear. Neither did Luna. Lucy's stance shifted subtly, weight settling into a fighting posture, eyes locked on the soldier's every movement.
"As far as any of us are concerned," Lucas spat, "you could kill us all without effort."
The soldier gave a quiet chuckle. It held no warmth. "Correct."
The word landed heavily in the air.
"If I wanted you dead," the soldier continued calmly, "you would already be corpses cooling on the floor. There would be no dramatic entrance. No conversation. No resistance."
He closed his book with a soft snap and tucked it under his arm.
"But that would be wasteful."
He turned slightly, as if addressing the room rather than any single person. "I know who you are. I know what you are. Beyonders are… difficult to find, and even more difficult to keep alive. Powerful tools should not be discarded so casually."
Jake's fear curdled into something sharper.
Instead of hunting them, the Empire was recruiting.
"I am offering you an alternative," the soldier said. "Join the Imperial Army. Your identities will be sealed. Your origins erased. You will be placed within a specialized company under my direct command."
Silence followed.
Jake could hear his own heartbeat.
Lucas was the first to respond, his voice tight with barely contained rage. "Why should we trust a single word you say? For all we know, you have soldiers surrounding this place, waiting to slaughter us the moment we agree."
The soldier tilted his head again. "An understandable concern."
He gestured lazily toward the open door. "I did not bring an escort. I do not need one."
Jake studied him closely now. Something about the man did not feel like a standard officer. His confidence was not the bravado of a commander. It was certainty. As if the outcome had already been decided.
The soldier continued, "You are all alive because I want you alive. Thriving, preferably. Your success benefits me."
Jake swallowed, then spoke before he could stop himself. "We don't exactly have limitless magic."
The words seemed to catch the soldier off guard.
He froze.
For the first time since entering the cottage, his body stilled completely. The air felt heavier, the lamps dimming slightly as if reacting to his presence. When he spoke again, his voice had lost some of its edge.
"Ah," he said slowly. "So you are not what I initially assumed."
He paused, then laughed softly. "No matter. Bodies are bodies. Skilled ones, at that."
He looked around the room, lingering on Lucy, Luna, Ace, then back to Jake. "You will serve. You will learn. And you will survive far longer under my command than you ever would hiding in forests and basements."
Lucas clenched his jaw, exchanging glances with the others. Jake already knew the answer.
This was not a choice.
Enlisting naturally would take months. Vetting. Scrutiny. Exposure. This man could bypass all of that with a single signature. Worse, refusing him would likely mark them for immediate elimination.
Lucas finally nodded. "We accept. On one condition."
The soldier's head inclined slightly. "Speak."
"Allow us time to prepare," Lucas said. "We will meet you this evening."
The soldier considered this for a moment, then nodded once. "Very well."
He turned toward the door. "Meet me in the nearest town. A transport wagon will be waiting."
Without another word, he stepped outside.
The door closed behind him.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Jake exhaled slowly. "Things just went from zero to sixty."
Lucy finally broke the silence. "That was no ordinary captain."
Jake nodded grimly.
He had the sinking feeling that whatever that man truly was, the Empire had just taken a very personal interest in them.