"Well done, Ragnar."
These words left Kurgami's mouth as he saw Ragnar standing atop the corpse of the giant guard.
"Aaaaaaaaaah!"
The commander screamed loudly while Kurgami held him aloft. A scream laden with despair, sorrow, and the savagery with which his followers had died.
"Release me, you monster!" He kept screaming, demanding Kurgami let him go.
"Oh, you want me to release you? Well..."
Kurgami responded to the commander's screams, pulling his captive hand back to throw him to the ground.
"What are you doing?!" retorted the commander, watching Kurgami begin to step backward...
"Didn't you ask me to release you?! Fine, I will."
Dark energy gathered in Kurgami's hand... swirling around it like raging fire.
"Ah..."
The commander was stunned. He hadn't expected Kurgami to actually intend to throw him; he thought it was just empty words. As he tried to say something... he was hurled downward at high speed.
**BOOOOOOM!**
An explosion echoed above the giant wall... and from within the blast, a thick cloud of smoke emerged, beginning to scatter and reveal what lay inside.
"Ughhh..."
A groan came from the person within the thick smoke... which gradually began to clear.
That person was the commander... critically injured. Both his arms had been severed, and Kurgami had torn off his leg and fed it to the beast.
One of his eyes was pierced by a rock... still embedded within it from the violent impact with the ground.
"Ughhh... Aaaaaaah..."
The commander was still screaming... from the pain.
Kurgami remained hovering in the sky, looking down at the commander with eyes devoid of any pity, as if he enjoyed seeing heroes suffer.
Suddenly, he raised his hand, reached into a spatial rift, and pulled out a mask with vertical violet lines.
"Seems we'll have company..." he muttered as he placed the mask on his face.
....
Two hours earlier... in the -Class City.
The sunlight gradually faded behind the towering buildings of the city: corporations, factories, and palaces. Nightfall was approaching.
In front of all these structures... cars flew through the air like swarms of flies.
Cars were no longer like before... when they used gasoline to move. Those days were gone... what people used in this era were flying cars, or trains that flew at supersonic speeds.
Travel between cities had become easy... but the faster the travel, the higher the cost. A trip from a C-class city to an -class city could cost up to four crystals per person... enough to sustain a family of six for ten years.
That's why middle-class families often avoided such travel; only the wealthy... or academy students traveling for missions or excursions used it.
Amidst all those flying cars... a massive white truck appeared, flying at incredible speed for its enormous size.
It swiftly carved its path, weaving between other cars and trucks... darting from one alley to another between colossal buildings.
On the outskirts of this opulent city, huge palaces rested peacefully atop green lands. Fantastical palaces, as if plucked from the pages of myths, surrounded by elegant white walls separating them from the homes of ordinary people. There were between 110 to 120 such palaces, lined up beside each other in meticulous arrangement, yet the gaps between each palace were deep—a silent reminder that even among the elite, there were hierarchies. Before each palace stood a massive iron gate topped with the royal family's crest... or the title of the hero residing within.
But there was one palace—or perhaps you could call it modest—made of two stories with a slightly large garden, its surrounding wall small, unlike the others.
The large white truck flew swiftly towards this modest palace and landed in a designated flying car spot within the large garden.
As it settled on the ground, its front door opened, and a young girl, about 15 years old, stepped out. Her face was exceptionally beautiful, with forest-green eyes and long black hair cascading over her small shoulders. She wore a white dress with faint green stripes and a large white hat.
She inhaled the fresh air emanating from the flower garden before her... a truly beautiful sight.
She looked happily, but as her green eyes focused more intently, the joy of the scene quickly turned to sorrow.
In that garden, she saw a middle-aged woman holding a watering hose, tending to the roses and flowers...
Her hair was also black, but short—cut short due to her work environment. Her eyes, too, were green... and she wore simple attire: a white shirt and blue jeans.
"Mom..." sighed Amishia, looking at her mother. "Didn't I tell you I'd hire a gardener to care for the flowers? You need to rest; your chronic illness might return if you keep this stubbornness up."
"Ha..." Her mother sighed too. "Amishia, don't worry about me. Just focus on your work duties, and make sure you don't slack off... Also, have you made any progress?!" Her last words fell on Amishia like a heavy stone.
"Mom, you shouldn't say that..." Amishia replied, her face flushing red.
"Alright, alright... Did you distribute all the food this time? And did you bring the item I asked for?"
"Yes... but!" Amishia wanted to say something, but didn't finish. Instead, she moved her hand slightly. A faint wind gathered, and a spatial rift opened. She pulled out a small, old drawer and a key.
Previously, she'd only intended to bring the drawer's contents, but she felt she needed to bring the drawer itself too. But she hadn't forgotten those strange things that happened in their old house—truly bizarre behavior! She muttered to herself as she handed the key to her mother.
"Alright, let's go inside. The sun is about to set."
"But where's Dad? I don't see him," Amishia asked loudly.
"He's inside, preparing dinner," her mother replied with a faint smile.
"I'll go in ahead to help your father."
"Alright, I'll stay here a little longer," Amishia said, removing her hat.
Amishia's mother moved quickly through the rose garden and headed towards the palace door.
After a few minutes of breathing in the scent of flowers and roses, Amishia also went inside.
The palace, despite its modest exterior, held within its walls a stillness resembling memories not yet buried.
Its ivory walls, wooden floors that emitted a soft creak with every step, and antique furniture... everything seemed frozen in an old moment, a moment no one dared to move beyond.
In the dining hall, a long polished wooden table stood surrounded by four chairs, carefully arranged as they were every day.
The aroma of food filled the air, coming from the nearby kitchen where Amishia's father was preparing the final dish.
Wearing a white apron over his gray shirt, he moved lightly between the pots, silent as if cooking had become a daily ritual he knew by heart.
Meanwhile, his wife was setting plates on the table, as she always did, never forgetting that fourth plate.
She placed it in front of the empty chair, as if something inside her still refused to accept the absence.
Amishia sat silently, her gaze darting towards that abandoned chair.
She didn't speak, didn't ask—she only thought quietly:
*"They still set a place for him?
Do they... still wait for him?"*
*"Or has this chair become a ritual of longing... one they don't dare break?"*
The doorbell rang.
The maid moved to answer it at a gesture from the mother. The door opened... and Jeff entered.
He looked unusually elegant, though he wasn't wearing his hero's uniform.
His short blond hair was neat, and his blue eyes held a hint of relief.
He was at ease, like someone returning to a place that belonged to him without being told.
"Huh... Jeff?"
Amishia said shyly, then smiled timidly, her face flushing deeper red.
"What brings you here? Isn't today your day off...?"
He replied with a gentle smile:
"Yes, it's my day off... and I thought I'd visit a family I've missed.
Especially after everything that happened yesterday... I think I needed some peace."
He was invited to sit. He took the third chair, and food began to be served quietly.
Everyone sat at the table, exchanging simple words about recent days—the rebellion that had occurred and the relative calm that followed.
The mother laughed softly when the father commented on the soup's taste, saying next time Amishia would cook.
As for Jeff, he looked at them all for a moment... then said in a quiet, grateful voice:
"I'm truly happy you invited me...
This family reunion dinner means a lot to me.
Sharing dinner with you now... makes me feel like I have a real home."
A brief silence fell.
The mother looked at Jeff and smiled tenderly. "You're always welcome here, son... whether for dinner or any time."
Amishia raised her head and looked at Jeff. A faint smile appeared on her lips, but she didn't reply.
Instead, her gaze returned to the fourth chair.
No one sat there.
But its shadow was present...
As it always was.
Dinner proceeded quietly...
Spoons moved lightly, simple conversations scattered here and there,
and even soft laughter escaped the mother, as if this moment belonged to another time… a time when Kurgami wasn't missing, and blood wasn't spilling at the world's edges.
But this calm...
Didn't last.
**Beep! Beep! Beep!**
A sharp sound rang from Jeff's watch—the emergency alarm of the Heroes' Union.
He froze for a moment, then immediately raised his hand and swiped his finger across the screen. A transparent, glowing window opened before him.
Not two seconds passed... before his eyes widened, and his expression darkened.
Amishia noticed the change instantly.
"What is it...?"
she asked, quickly rising from her chair.
In a low, tense voice, Jeff read the message on the screen:
> **URGENT SUMMONS FOR JEFF & AMISHIA —**
> **Proceed immediately to the Barrier on the Western Front separating the Human Continent from the Beast Continent.**
> **Confirmed reports: All Barrier Guardians wiped out.**
> **Only the Commander's life signal remains active.**
A heavy silence fell over the table.
Even the mother set her spoon aside, and sorrow clouded the father's face.
Amishia bit her lip, her eyes glinting with resolve:
"The Barrier...? That area's been under constant surveillance for months!
How could all the guardians be killed at once?!"
Jeff stood up from his chair:
"I don't know... but the fact that only the Commander's signal remains... means only one thing:
Whoever attacked them... wasn't human."
Amishia didn't speak.
But her hand trembled as she activated her wrist device, summoning her field armor, which began to assemble from glowing particles around her body.
She looked at her parents for a moment.
Then towards the fourth chair…
The chair that had remained empty all along.
She sighed… a sound no one else heard.
Then she turned and walked with Jeff towards the door…
As if she knew—without words being spoken—that what lay ahead
wasn't just a mission.
---