"It's an honor to have you here, Samuel Nikitich," said the old man, seated behind a desk draped in red velvet, surrounded by steaming cups and bottles of aromatic tea.
His wrinkled skin — marked by the scars of time — contrasted with his thick, graying mustache. Wisps of brittle, thinning hair still clung to his scalp. He wore a suit of heavy white plate armor, oppressive and ceremonial, a symbol of the tradition and burden he bore. But nothing stood out more than the patch covering his right eye.
"Don't give me that, General Corloch. I'm the one honored to meet you."
General Alfonse Corloch de Wiart. Commander of the Frontier since its founding. A living relic of war. Loyal to the bone. In his youth, he had been the right hand of the late King Mirny Sestri — the first of the humans.
"Such modesty on your par... cough cough..."
The general's voice faltered, choking. Then, from beneath the desk, he raised his arm — or what was left of it. His right hand had been amputated.
But then, before Samuel's sharp eyes, a deep navy mist condensed in the air, forming an Aura Hand that gently wrapped around the teacup. He took a slow sip.
"So then? Why have you come here, Nikitich?"
Samuel poured himself some tea before answering.
"You know a demon lord crossed the border, don't you?"
Corloch's expression turned to stone. The previous cordiality vanished, like a candle snuffed by the wind.
"Of course I know. That news has reached every squadron in the kingdom."
He stood and walked to the window behind him, overlooking the distant Wall of the Frontier — imposing and unmoving.
"But I can assure you... we still have no idea how he got past the magic barrier."
Samuel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what he was about to say.
"Fuuu..."
"Maybe... he didn't bypass the barrier, General."
Corloch turned slowly.
"What are you implying?"
"I'm saying someone let him in."
Silence.
The air in the room thickened, as if gravity itself had increased.
A thin, bluish mist began to emanate from the old general's body, enveloping him like an ethereal cloak.
"Insolent brat..."
The mist grew, filling the room, curling around furniture, rolling toward Samuel like a tide.
But the young man stood firm as stone. He didn't move.
"Forgive me, General. If truth sounds like an insult... there's nothing to be done."
With a subtle motion, Nikitich released his own Aura — white as the highest, purest clouds in the sky. It expanded outward, pressing back against the general's mist.
The energies clashed in silence — like two ancient forces. The room trembled. First, a bookshelf collapsed. Then the desk cracked down the middle with a muffled snap. Finally, the window shattered, sending shards into the courtyard outside.
Corloch was the first to retreat, withdrawing his Aura with a gesture. Samuel followed suit, bringing a fleeting moment of peace to the room.
"Very well," the old man said, returning to his now-damaged chair.
"This really is a serious matter. Unlike you Aurora Knights, we're in constant combat with demons. And sadly... my men are not incorruptible."
He sat down slowly, resting his tired body.
"If that's all you came to say, then get out. I'll conduct the investigation myself."
Without another word, Samuel turned and left with steady steps, leaving the room still heavy with tension.
Corloch remained there, staring at the door the young man had exited through. Then he sighed — a low, rasping sound, like the dying breath of a fading hearth.
"I really am old. I can barely maintain my Aura for more than a few seconds."
He looked at the teacup, still intact.
"I need to find my successor soon..."
[POV Samo]
110 out of 237. Not a bad rank... considering I only stood out in Close Quarters Combat.
I walked down the silent corridor of the Order. Six months had already passed — meaning a third of the training was done.
I'd learned the semesters were divided into three phases: the Instruction Period, which we had just completed; the Activity Period, starting now; and finally, Assignment to Units.
During this new phase, cadets would be split into squads. And for that, everyone was supposed to meet in the White Auditorium. That's where I was headed.
When I arrived, most were already seated. A few rushed in behind me. Off to the right, a crowd was forming — a circle of cadets gathered around one person: Layla Darkwood, the number 01 of the semester.
I could hear the compliments, the forced laughter, the sugar-coated words thrown her way. They orbited her like satellites around a star — or maybe, like flies around a rotting carcass.
"They look like a bunch of flies on shit..." I muttered.
Was I... jealous? Impossible. Or maybe...?
Ever since she awakened her Aura, she'd become the center of everyone's attention.
"Alright, listen up!" — Instructor Grant's voice cut through the murmurs. He held a clipboard stuffed with papers.
"I'll announce the groups with their respective leaders and members. Pay attention."
Each group would have a leader — always among the higher ranks — and five members from the lower tiers.
I was assigned to Group 26. Our leader was cadet 84, Merino. The other members: me, Oliver, Silas, Kan, and Felicia.
After that, the instructor dismissed us to gear up. Our next tasks would take place outside the walls — in the city.
We followed Merino. As tall as me, pale-skinned, wearing heavy iron armor, sword at his waist and shield on his back. The type who drew attention just by standing still.
They say you shouldn't judge someone before getting to know them. But I prefer another saying:
"Tell me who you walk with, and I'll tell you who you are."
And the people Merino associated with... were notoriously toxic. Noble-born, arrogant, detached. The kind who only see those with enough blood and gold.
I didn't mind being ignored by him. But a squad wasn't just me.
Maybe I was overthinking. Better to watch for now.
"Anyone know what we're doing in the city?" — a voice broke the silence. It was Silas: scrawny, half-lidded eyes like he was always half-asleep. Light armor. Studying magic, still waiting to awaken his Aura.
"Heard it's urban patrol," answered Felicia, firm voice. Rank 109, pale skin, dark blue hair tied in a bun. Light armor, shortbow on her back.
"Huh?... Guard duty? What crap." — muttered Kan, next to me. Black, shorter than me, bald head gleaming in the sun, always yawning. Wielded dual short swords.
"If it's patrol, I'd like to partner with Lady Felicia," said Oliver, smiling weirdly. White, slightly shorter than Kan. Personality... disgusting.
Still, he ranked second in Close Combat — just behind me.
"Get lost, you creep!" — said Felicia, clearly uncomfortable, stepping away from him.
Really... what a peculiar group.
But the only one who hadn't said a word was Merino.
I decided to break the ice:
"So, Merino, what were the instructions the instructor gave you?"
Silence.
One. Two. Three seconds.
"Don't talk to me unless I talk to you. Understood? I don't want to associate with anyone in this group."
The atmosphere dropped like a stone.
Tension fell over us like a thick curtain.
Everyone looked at the floor or into the void. Their expressions said it all — silent disapproval.
And me?
I felt my blood start to boil.
For the first time...
I really wanted to break someone.