The iron door of the interrogation room slammed shut with a finality that made Matthew flinch. The hallway was cold, lined with flickering mana-lamps that cast long, distorted shadows. Inquisitor Vane had vanished into the gloom, leaving Matthew alone with the man who had pulled him from the dirt of Oakhaven.
Captain Allen—the man Matthew now knew as a high-ranking officer of the Sun-Guard—sighed, his heavy pauldrons creaking. He gestured for Matthew to follow him toward the outer courtyard.
"Don't mind Vane," Allen said, his voice echoing. "He sees the world as a collection of assets and liabilities. To him, you're just a puzzle piece that doesn't fit yet."
Matthew kept his head down, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a borrowed, oversized tunic. "And what am I to you, Captain? A charity case?"
Allen stopped at a stone balcony overlooking the training grounds. Below, rows of squires were practicing thrusts in perfect, mechanical unison. "To me, you're a survivor. And in this world, that's the only rank that matters. Your father... he was a man of many secrets, Matthew. I knew him, once. A long time ago."
Matthew's head snapped up. "You knew him? Why didn't you say anything in there?"
"Because Vane doesn't need to know everything," Allen said, leaning against the cold stone. "Adrian wasn't always a 'Grade C' Knight in a backwater village. He was... something else. Something the Kingdom didn't want to lose, but couldn't control. He chose that life in Oakhaven to keep you and Emily away from the very place we're standing now."
"He wanted us to be safe," Matthew whispered, the memory of his father's crushed body stinging his eyes. "He failed."
"He didn't fail," Allen countered firmly. "You're breathing. That was his only mission." The Captain turned to face him fully. "The Academy isn't going to be kind to you, Matthew. The sons of Dukes and Generals are there. They've been trained since they could walk. They'll look at your commoner clothes and your lack of formal stance, and they will try to break you. They'll call you the 'Survivor of the Ash' like it's a curse."
"I've been called worse," Matthew said, thinking of Silas back in the market.
"Good. Hold onto that spite. You'll need it." Allen reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a small, blackened iron ring. He pressed it into Matthew's palm. "This belonged to a friend. Wear it. It won't give you strength, but it'll remind you that you aren't the first person to start with nothing."
The Shadow in the Trees
The conversation was cut short by a sudden, violent change in the atmosphere. The horses in the nearby stables began to scream, a frantic, high-pitched sound that set Matthew's teeth on edge.
The sun was still high, but a strange, localized mist began to roll over the Citadel's outer walls—thick, grey, and smelling of wet fur and rotted meat.
"Captain?" Matthew asked, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of the training dagger Allen had given him earlier.
Allen didn't answer. He was already drawing his longsword, the steel singing as it left the scabbard. "Get behind me, boy. Now!"
From the mist, a shape materialized on the battlements. It wasn't the massive, god-like S-Class monsters from before. This was smaller, but infinitely more vicious. It was a Shadow-Stalker, an A-Class hunter known for its speed and its ability to phase through physical barriers. It looked like a wolf made of smoke, six feet tall at the shoulder, with eyes that burned like dying embers.
And it wasn't alone.
Three more dropped from the rooftops, landing with silent, heavy thuds on the marble courtyard. They ignored the armored guards at the gates, their predatory gazes locked onto the one person in the courtyard who shouldn't have been there.
"They're here for the survivors," Allen hissed, his stance widening. "They're finishing the job."
One of the Stalkers let out a sound that wasn't a roar, but a psychic shriek that made Matthew's ears bleed. It lunged, its claws elongated into obsidian blades, aimed directly at Matthew's throat.
"Stay back!" Allen roared, stepping into the beast's path.
The battle for the Citadel had begun before Matthew had even stepped inside his new home. The monsters hadn't just followed the army—they had hunted them.