The grand marriage hall was awash in opulence, but all finery paled in comparison to the couple seated upon the central throne. Princess Zafira and Prince Luke sat so close that their shoulders brushed, a subtle touch that drew the gaze of every guest in attendance.
Watching them from his seat, the King leaned toward his Queen, his voice warm with fatherly pride. "Those two really look pretty like this, don't you think?". The Queen didn't need words to agree; she simply offered a soft, radiant smile as she watched her daughter and the Prince.
In the center of the hall, the air was filled with the rhythmic pulse of music and the swirling colors of dancers moving in perfect harmony. Amidst the celebration, Zafira leaned closer to Luke, her voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.
"This feels... so nice," she breathed.
Luke turned to her, a teasing yet tender smile playing on his lips. "Well, it was a difficult task to convince my father for this relation, you know!".
Zafira turned her gaze fully toward him, her expression softening as she looked into his eyes. "Whatever..." she replied gently. "We're together now... and that's the only thing that matters".
Luke offered a slow, genuine nod, his smile widening as they shared the quiet moment amidst the roar of the festivities.
The celebration continued to glow with warmth. From his place among the guests, Prince Luke's father watched the couple with a softening expression. He turned to his daughter, a girl nearly the same age as her brother, and spoke with a quiet certainty.
"They look happy together".
Luke's sister let out a soft, melodic laugh, her eyes bright as she watched the throne. "Yeh!" she agreed, her voice full of genuine cheer. High above the palace, the night sky was suddenly set ablaze as vibrant fireworks bloomed, marking the height of the festivities.
SCENE SHIFTS
Far from the music and light of the marriage hall, a different kind of silence reigned on the eastern route. The air here was thick with the metallic scent of iron. Squad 2 had already secured their objective, the area transformed into a grim scene of efficiency.
All five members—Virex Solen, Haruto Vane, Akio Raizen, Tatsuya Marrow, and their leader, Kael Noctis—were busy with the grisly aftermath of their success. They moved through the shadows, clearing away the blood and dragging the lifeless forms of those who had stood in their way.Squad 2 had completed their mission without a single loss. At the eastern route, all thirteen guards had been neutralized, their bodies now nothing more than obstacles to be cleared.
Kael Noctis gripped the shoulder of a fallen hunter, the body leaving a dark trail in the dirt as he dragged it aside. He looked toward the distance, his mind turning to their comrades.
"What do you guys think..." Kael asked, his voice low and steady. "Have Squad 1 completed their task?!"
Akio Raizen heaved the weight of a fallen hunter, swinging the body with a grunt into the thick, concealing tall grasses. "Yeh... they must have..." he replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "They got Daichi... the guy with the Demonic Art".
Haruto Vane nodded in agreement as he finished his work. "Yeh, that guy is strong... they must have won".
A sudden crackle filled the air, drawing Tatsuya Marrow's gaze upward as another firework bloomed against the dark sky, a distant echo of the celebration in the city. "Hope so..." he murmured, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic flicker of doubt.
Kael Noctis let out a long breath, his tone becoming slow and serious as he addressed the unit. "Ok boys, we'll follow Plan One... two of us will stay here". He looked toward the heavy entrance they had just secured. "As this is one of the main entrances of Kazim, we've to block it".
"Ok..." Akio said, leaning against his weapon as he looked around at his teammates. "So, who is staying here with me?".
Virex Solen stepped forward from the shadows, his expression unreadable. "I'll," he stated simply.
Kael gave a firm nod of approval. "Ok... you'll stay here... and if reinforcements come, you'll... at least distract them... at least for a bit".
The air grew heavy as the weight of the order settled over the group. Tatsuya's eyes went wide, his voice trembling as he spoke the truth they were all trying to ignore.
"But that'll be suicide," he whispered, his gaze darting between his comrades.
Kael Noctis didn't offer a rebuttal. Instead, he simply lowered his head, his eyes fixed on the blood-stained earth beneath his boots. The silence was broken by the sharp, rhythmic crack of Akio Raizen's neck as he tilted his head. A reckless, jagged grin pulled at Akio's lips.
"I've been waiting for this moment," Akio said, a dark, defiant humor dancing in his eyes. "Suicide... hum... that'll be fun." Beside him, Virex Solen didn't say a word; he simply offered a slow, knowing smile that accepted their grim fate.
The bravado finally shattered when Haruto Vane moved forward. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out and pulled Akio into a tight, desperate embrace. One by one, the rest of the squad joined them, forming a final circle of brothers-in-arms. Their eyes shimmered, watery and bright with the weight of the coming sacrifice.
A single tear slipped down Akio's cheek as he spoke the first half of their creed.
"Without sacrifice..."
"Victory isn't possible," the others replied in a low, somber unison, the words sounding more like a sacred vow than a battle cry.
Kael was the first to pull away, his expression hardening back into the stoic mask of a commander. "Rest of us are going to that tunnel of the western route... as planned."
Akio offered a casual smile and a final wave of his hand, watching his friends walk away. Virex slumped down at the base of the giant stone gate, the picture of quiet composure. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, flicked a flame to life, and began to smoke, the orange cherry of the tobacco glowing in the deepening shadows.
Without looking back, the remaining three warriors turned their backs on the gate and vanished into the darkness of the forest.
The scene shifts back one hour to Runeshade Ford, where the air is thick with the smell of horsehide and smoke. Mizoro sits tall upon his steed, framed by the flickering light of burning torches held by the two hundred S-rank hunters behind him—a formidable force that includes his own elite Z-rank squad.
A chilling laugh erupts from Mizoro, echoing through the ranks. "Hunting time... Haha... aahaha," he crows with bloodthirsty delight. With a sharp signal, his horse bolts forward, and the thunder of two hundred pairs of hooves follows him into the night.
The Present: The Western Route Back in the present, the brutal reality of the Western Route remains unchanged. The guard kneels over the battered form of Argen, his hand clamping roughly onto the warrior's face before delivering another jarring punch.
Rising to his feet, the guard looks down with a mix of boredom and disdain. "I thought you were the strongest among all of you... I thought you could give me fun," he muses, his voice dripping with disappointment. He readies his weapon, his eyes cold. "But... whatever. Let's finish it here and now".
The guard unsheathes his blade, raising it high as he prepares to sever Argen's neck once and for all.
Argen stares up at the cold steel, his consciousness fading. Is it the end? he wonders. In the silence of that final moment, the faces of Mahito and Minoko flash vividly before his eyes, pulling him back into the past.
FLASHBACK: The Training Ground
The setting sun casts long shadows over the training field as Mahito and Argen engage in fierce hand-to-hand combat. Mahito lunges forward, aiming a heavy punch toward Argen's face.
Showing the results of his training, Argen successfully blocks the strike. Without hesitation, he counters, driving a punch into Mahito's shoulder that sends the older man staggering back.
"Congratulations on your first hit," Mahito says,mocking Argen.
Argen begins to smile, a surge of pride swelling in his chest. But the victory is short-lived. In the time it takes him to blink, Mahito has already closed the distance, standing directly in front of him. Before Argen can react, a sharp punch connects with his nose, sending him crashing to the ground.
Argen wiped the fresh blood from his nose with a frustrated sleeve. "What the!— Alright, you won again," he grumbled, his pride stinging more than his face.
Mahito stood over him, silhouetted against the twilight sky. He extended a hand toward him, his expression unreadable. "You really are a weakling," he remarked bluntly.
Argen's eyes flared. He snatched Mahito's hand, using the grip to hoist himself back to his feet before shouting right into the man's face. "I'm not a weakling! You hear me!?"
Mahito simply looked away, his voice remains flat and unimpressed. "Shouting is not gonna change anything."
Despite the harsh words, a small, defiant smirk tugged at the corner of Argen's mouth.
Two Hours Later
The sun had long since surrendered to the horizon, leaving the world swallowed in a thick, oppressive darkness. The night was unusually still—eerily so. There was no wind to rustle the trees, no rhythm of nocturnal insects in the grass.
The only sound in the void was the faint, rhythmic crackle of a dying campfire situated between the two men. Argen sat perched on a jagged, broken stone, his elbows resting heavily on his knees. He stared into the dancing orange flames, his gaze distant and hollow, looking through the fire at something only he could see.
The orange glow of the embers cast long, flickering shadows against the trees. Mahito remained leaning back against a rough trunk, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes half-closed, appearing as though he were drifting off to sleep.
Neither of them spoke for a long time. The silence of the forest was heavy, pressing in on the small circle of light provided by the dying fire. Finally, it was Mahito who broke the quiet.
"...You're quiet today," he remarked, his voice low and gravelly. "That's unlike you."
Argen didn't look up. He kept his gaze fixed on the shifting coals. "I was thinking," he replied, his voice uncharacteristically calm.
Mahito let out a sound that was almost a soft laugh. "That's dangerous for you."
Argen's lips twitched, the ghost of a retort surfacing, but the smile never fully formed. The weight on his mind was too heavy for jests.
"Mahito..." Argen said, his tone shifting.
"Yeah?" Mahito opened his eyes, sensing the change in the air.
Argen finally turned his head. His eyes were steady, locking onto Mahito's with a newfound intensity—but deep within them, something fragile and raw lived behind the gaze of a warrior.
Argen spoke with an uncharacteristic calmness that seemed to still the very air around the campfire. "If one day... we're not fighting side by side anymore," he began.
Mahito's brow furrowed instantly in a frown. "Oi... Don't start with that," he grunted, trying to shut down the grim direction of the conversation.
"Let me finish," Argen insisted, his tone deathly serious.
Mahito went silent, yielding to the weight in his student's voice. Argen stood up slowly, the flickering firelight carving deep, shifting shadows across the planes of his face.
"I don't know how long this path goes... I don't know what it takes before it ends," Argen mused, staring into the dark. He took a slow, steadying breath. "But I know one thing".
Mahito straightened his posture, his eyes locking onto Argen, listening with his full attention now.
"No matter where I am... no matter who I become... no matter how much the world changes me," Argen continued, taking a step closer to his mentor. "I will remember you".
Mahito's jaw tightened visibly, a flash of emotion crossing his face before he retreated into his usual gruffness. "Idiot... That's obvious," he muttered.
Argen shook his head slowly. "No. Not just your name". His voice wavered, just slightly, as the facade of the hardened warrior slipped. "I'll remember how you trained me... I'll remember the way you laugh when you're scared but pretend you're not...".
He took another step, his words coming from the heart. "I'll remember how you always walk half a step behind me—so I don't see you protecting my blind side. I'll remember every argument... every silence... every night like this".
As the words hung in the air, the fire popped loudly, throwing a shower of sparks into the still night.
Mahito stepped forward, his brow knit with concern and confusion. "What happened to you?... Has something gotten into you? ... Why are you saying this now?".
Argen swallowed hard, the firelight reflecting in his steady eyes. "Because promises should be made before they're tested".
Silence fell over the campfire once more, thick and heavy. Then, Mahito looked up, his eyes meeting Argen's with a quiet, piercing intensity. "You think I'm the kind of guy who gets forgotten?" he asked quietly.
Argen didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and grabbed Mahito's collar, pulling him close until their foreheads were nearly touching. A faint, sad smile played on his lips. "That's exactly why I'm saying it".
Mahito's breath caught in his throat. Argen's voice finally broke—not with a loud sob, but with a raw, painful hoarseness
"If the world takes everything else from me..." Argen's voice was a jagged rasp, barely audible over the crackle of the embers. "If I lose my strength... my name... my place—"
His grip on Mahito's collar tightened, his knuckles turning white as he pulled his mentor closer.
"I'll still know that once, I wasn't alone."
The air between them seemed to fracture. Mahito's eyes burned, the fierce light of the fire reflecting in the moisture he refused to let fall. Without a word, Mahito reached up and pulled Argen into a rough, desperate embrace. He gripped the back of Argen's clothing with a strength that felt as though he were trying to tether him to the earth, as if letting go would mean Argen might vanish into the night.
"Then don't you dare forget," Mahito's voice was low and shaking, a rare crack in his iron exterior. "...Not for a second."
Argen nodded against his shoulder, the movement slow and heavy. "I won't," he promised. There was a long pause, the world around them reduced to the heat of the fire and the weight of that silence. "No matter what happens... no matter what."
Pulling back slightly, Mahito reached into his pocket and pressed something into Argen's palm. It was a simple bracelet, worn but sturdy.
"Take it as a memory," Mahito said, his gruffness returning to hide the tremor in his hands.
Argen looked down at the gift, his fingers closing tightly around it.
FLASHBACK ENDS
The darkness that had begun to claim Argen's mind was suddenly shattered by a single, desperate realization.
No... no, no... his thoughts screamed as the blade whistled toward his throat. If I die... I'll forget him. I'll lose the only thing that's truly mine.
In a feat of sheer, impossible will, Argen's body reacted before his mind could even process the pain. His fingers clamped around the hilt of his sword. Just as the guard's blade was about to bite into his flesh, Argen parried with a violent, metallic shriek that sent sparks flying into the night.
The guard's eyes widened, but he was far too late.
Argen didn't just defend; he exploded into motion. He spun low across the dirt, his momentum carrying him upward with the force of a coiled spring. Before the guard could even blink, Argen's fist connected with the man's jaw in a thunderous, wide-angled punch. The impact was so savage that the guard was lifted off his feet and hurled through the air like a broken doll.
The sheer speed of the counter-attack left the clearing in a stunned silence. The guard got flew away and got hitted to the wall comprehend how a dying man had just moved faster than he could see.
Argen stood tall, swaying slightly, and wiped the fresh blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His gaze was no longer that of a victim, but of a man fueled by a promise that death itself couldn't break.
"And that," Argen growled, his voice steady and cold, "is never going to happen."
CHAPTER ENDS