The next day passed slowly. Not because the lessons were boring or difficult, but simply because they didn't really matter.
Roy sat by the window, chin resting on his hand, watching the clouds drift across a pale blue sky. While Kieran sat next to him, outwardly listening to the teacher's lecture on basic small angle approximation formulas… However, his eyes were unfocused, barely tracking the whiteboard pen on the board. Brock and Tanaka were asleep on the table.
None of it reached them. For Kieran, after the kind of battle he'd tasted the day before. Everything felt muted, as if the world had lowered its volume and shifted into another room.
Every so often, Roy's finger tapped against the hardwood desk in a slow, irregular rhythm. Not impatience exactly, but awareness. There was always something waiting underneath normalcy, and both of them could feel it. Even if the rest of the class blissfully drifted in their own bubbles of ignorance.
By the time the final bell rang, that quiet tension had settled in like fog.
The students spilt out into the courtyard. Tanaka made a joke about the homework. Brock complained about the stomachache he had yesterday from the food stall he ate at. Neither of them noticed when Roy and Kieran slipped away without a word, cutting down a side corridor and out through the back gate.
They didn't speak with each other on the way; there was no need to.
The direction of their steps said enough: away from the bustling streets, away from the station, down through a forgotten street on the edge of the industrial district. Passed rusted warehouses and cracked concrete. Very few people walk this way, and those who do keep their heads low.
They turned at an unmarked alley and stopped at a steel service door bolted into the brick wall.
Roy pressed his palm on and sent out a resonance of his prana, and the door slid open.
A narrow stairwell descended into darkness. At the base, muted lanterns flickered across old stone walls carved with sigils, runes that pulsed faintly when Roy and Kieran passed, recognising their prana excluded from them into the air.
This was a place built for comfort and necessity.
Two turns later, they stepped into the central chamber.
An old war table dominated this room, its wooden surface covered in maps, sketches and documents. Iron lanterns hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting shadows that danced across stacks of arcane tomes. On the far wall stood a massive crystal glass wall, and inside, a woman glowed softly as if she were projected with a blue tint; it was Solenne Vale.
Another figure waited beside the table, a woman with her hair tied back in a low braid, a pair of brass chimes hanging at her wrist. Malen inclined her head in a greeting, her hand already starting to move in a quiet welcome.
"You're late," Solenne said, her voice echoing faintly. It wasn't a reproach; it was simply an observation.
"We came as soon as the bell rang," Kieran replied.
Solenne's fingers moved over a sigil interface. A map appeared in hovering light above the table. Rough plains, broken cliffs and a winding valley carved into the earth like an old scar.
"Location: Eloir Valley, which is remote, sparsely populated, and with no outposts nearby. Three days ago, a villa was annihilated. An entire family has been massacred."
"The Celestial Watch has called it a mass murder," Roy murmured as he heard it on the news.
"Correct," Soleene said from the crystal glass wall. "The official statement claims that the culprit tore through the estate without provocation."
Another tap, and the map zoomed in, revealing a blood-red symbol that marked the destroyed villa.
"He is currently in flight. Last known movements put him heading north towards the border forests."
She then paused. Something subtle shifted in her voice.
"What is not in the official statement is how the man ended up in that villa in the first place."
Malen raised her hand and signed: he was acquired. Sold. Used like a caged animal for their amusement.
Kieran's jaws clenched.
Roy said nothing.
Solenne continued, "He was removed from his town two years ago under the pretence of national service. In truth, he was kept and used by the Langworth family, a distant relative of the king. The violence was sudden, born out of desperation. And now that truth has been buried beneath a single headline: 'Terrorist Slaughters Members of The Royal Family.'"
She shifted the map.
A different symbol appeared, a golden circle split into ten branches.
The seal of the Celestial Watch.
"They have already dispatched a tracking unit. What division is unknown? They will arrive within the next 24 hours, but we assume it might be the Recon Division."
Roy stepped to the edge of the table. "Our objective?"
"Simple. Reach him first," Solenne said. "Learn everything. If his reasons are justified, assist in extraction and escort him out of the area. If not…"
Her eyes sharpened.
"...Terminate him."
A heavy silence settled over the chamber. Then Roy reached down and picked up the folder lying on the table, the name scrawled in black across the front. Aleron Veris.
He puts the file down and walks back the other way.
"We leave tonight."
Kieran nodded once.
FSHHH.
Night fell like a blade drawn across the horizon. The moonlight dressed the land in a gleaming white layer.
Within the silent gloom of Nova in Veils armoury, Roy checked the straps of his black coat, tucked his gloves into place and lifted the collapsable mask from its stand. Black steel edges melding into a sleek, curved surface with that single ornate stone hanging from its left side.
He didn't put it on yet. Only held it. Looking at it.
It meant something to him. The teardrop of the crimson jewel.
Kieran finished buckling the straps of his combat harness, sliding his sword into place along his spine.
"Do you think he's still human?" Kieran asked quietly.
Roy didn't look up. "Everyone stays human… right until the moment something within them breaks."
They stepped into the upper chamber, past the barrier seal and out into a dead alleyway where shadows swallowed everything. Once the door sealed behind them, it looked like any other cracked wall.
The flash stepped into the sky, falling down onto the city outskirts below. Street lights glowed, and far-off traffic hummed. They moved like ghosts, slipping between lamplight and shadow until they reached a narrow road that connected to the old rail freight line. No guards. No civilians. No Eyes.
Kieran reached into his coat and pressed the small sigil orb. The world flickered around them and their uniforms dissolved into darkness, fitted specifically to disperse their prana signatures.
Roy looked at Kieran and simply nodded.
They followed the freight line out of the city, moving across open fields under the dim glow of the moon, until ruin and farmland gave way to barren hills.
The wind howled gently through dead grass. The air was colder here and heavier, like the land itself remembered something violent.
They were there in a mere instant; they arrived at the mouth of the valley. The stone pathway bent downward, disappearing between jagged cliffs. Old waggon tracks lay half-buried in dust.
With every step, the air thickened. The valley walls were silent. The moonlight felt distant now, as if slowed.
They came upon the first sign of violence. A blackened scorch on the road. Not of fire… more like raw, uncontrolled Soul Art that had detonated in a single, violent burst.
Roy crouched near it, eyes narrowing on what occurred here. Noticing it was slightly fresh.
Kieran looked ahead, into the folding shadows of the canyon.
"That means he's still running from something."
They stepped forward. 50 metres. 200 metres.
Then Roy lifted a hand.
Ahead, a small figure sat slumped against the canyon wall.
Torn coat. Blood on his sleeves. Eyes half-open and empty. A broken pocket watch lay in his hand.
That was Aleron Veris.
They approached slowly; Kieran raised his hands, sword still sheathed.
Aleron didn't move. His eyes flicked up, just enough to see Roy's face in the moonlight.
"I… Already know… Who you are," he whispered, voice cracking with a cough.
Roy's brow twitched imperceptibly. "You don't."
Aleron's gaze dropped to the ground. Tears stung the corners of his eyes, but he forced them back. "You… took everything from me. You gave me away. They used me. And I still thought… I could never escape from them."
He clenched his bloodied fingers around the broken watch.
"So I made them feel what I felt… I killed them… One by one… with no hesitation. I stared them into their eyes while I slowly blew up their insides one by one…"
Roy said nothing, but his eyes softened, barely.
While Aleron had a little bloodied smile on his face, reminiscing on his revenge.
Kieran stepped beside him and lowered himself slightly. "We are not who you think we are. We are not with the Watch. If you stay here, you'll die."
Aleron's breathing grew shallow. "Just let me die already… it's… already too late for me. They'll find me either way… I am a dead man."
Roy walked and stood in front of Aleron, who was lying against the bare rock.
Roy's jaw shifted. "We are Nova in Veil. We have come here to liberate you."
Roy then extended his hand toward Aleron; his eyes, which were initially dim, started to gleam.
For a long moment, Aleron just stared at the outstretched hand at him, almost like he couldn't believe it was real.
Hope had begun to sprawl within him.
Then his fingers reached out… and the moment their skin touched…
BOOM.
A violent shockwave tore through the valley, ripping dust and stone into the air. Three of them turned, and standing at the top of the canyon wall were three silhouettes.
All in black and white uniforms with a silver topa insignia.
One of them stepped forward, their coat flaring. His gloved hand came to rest on the hilt of his blade. Roy's eyes snapped to the sigil on his shoulder.
The Judicator Division.
They were slightly too late.
Kieran's heartbeat hammered once in his ears.
Roy stepped in front of Aleron, his expression turning cold, unreadable.
The Watch member looked down from the ridge. He said nothing. But his gaze lingered on them…
… and for just a split-second, the watch member saw a flicker of focus fall on the small emblem stitched into his sleeve, A cursive, lowercase l.
There was no recognition in them. Only narrowed eyes.
Then the figure with a glove raised his hand and the mountainside exploded into movement as multiple SEAL anchors ignited, forming a rapid extraction assault.
The two sprang into motion, dragging Aleron deeper into the canyon, away from the ridge and from the figures.
Prana sparks shattered above them as the first anchor struck the ground ten metres behind.
They didn't fight. They ran.
Their objective was to extract.
Because sometimes survival is not cowardice; it is the first part of victory.
Behind them, the figures did not pursue in full; instead, they watched as they got away.
Watched the three disappear into the folds of shadow, leaving behind only a single trailing symbol stitched into a sleeve…