[September 21st – Elpida's border, Clogwyn area]
Arriving at the Clogwyn precipice for the second time in 24 hours, Nion felt a sharp sense of déjà vu. Hundreds of men and women of various ages were already climbing Clogwyn, some running along the precipice in search of another way to reach the top. Many were injured; most of the younger men and women were covered in blood. Once again, the groups were coming from the direction of the distant village in Elpida, and the same chaos was about to unfold. However, this time, the number of invaders was at an entirely different level—it was as if the entire village was desperately attempting to breach the borders.
"Today, today will be different! I'll show him that I can manage it without killing anyone," Nion muttered to herself.
Busy with the incident at the hospital, Nion had arrived far later than anticipated. Warning these people about the trespassing policies seemed pointless—it would only make the situation harder to control, especially since Nion was alone and the citizens of Elpida had already crossed the boundary of the 'Safe-zone,' according to Alexithymia's border control policy. Nion decided to contact the first-line border control for more details on the ongoing situation.
"This is Keeper Quarta. What's the situation at the main gate?"
"The main gate is under attack," came the reply from the first-line security agent.
"Their identity?" Quarta asked.
"The intruders identity is unclear, but they are coming from the direction of Elpida."
"Any casualties on your side?"
"Multiple casualties. A dozen are injured. We won't hold out much longer as there is too many of them... Is his majesty aware of the situation?" the agent replied.
"Yes, Mitera System informed all available Keepers, Make sure to hold the main gate for another 10 minutes," Nion ordered.
"Engaging!" Nion announced to the patrol. "Nobody is going to die tonight!"
"Operator, I request 'Physical Enhancement.'"
"Physical enhancement – Activated," the Operator replied.
Nion leaped off the cliff, plunging into the area most concentrated with trespassers. In the darkness of night, with only the moon providing light, no one saw Nion descend until she landed. The force of her landing created a small shockwave that knocked several nearby people to the ground. Some recognized her and screamed, trying to warn the others.
People scattered, either running for their lives or hiding, with some carrying the injured. The younger and healthier among them formed tight circles, trying to protect one another.
"I am a Keeper of these lands, serving His Majesty, King Alexithymia. If you do not wish to perish by my hand, I order you to halt your actions immediately," Nion declared, her voice sharp and commanding as it echoed through the tense silence.
Her figure stood rigid against the crowd, her uniform a stark symbol of authority that provoked fear as much as it commanded respect. The air seemed to quiver with the weight of her presence, but the people before her were far from submissive.
"To hell with you, you soulless machine!" a young man roared, his voice cracking with the strain of righteous fury. "You will pay for the lives you've taken, for the innocent blood you've spilled!"
The young man's fists trembled with rage, his body straining against the restraining arms of his family. They clung to him, desperation in their eyes, as though holding him back was their last act of protection.
Nion's gaze remained steady, her face betraying no emotion. "Cease your arrogance. I am not here to fight," she said, her tone measured, almost cold. "I am here to talk."
But her words were cut short as the young man's voice rose again, a cacophony of anger and despair. He lunged forward, only to be pulled back by the hands of his group, their murmured pleas for calm swallowed by the tension in the air.
Then, the crowd parted slightly, and an elder woman emerged, her gait slow but purposeful. Her face was a map of years lived—etched with deep lines that spoke of sorrow, endurance, and defiance. Her presence silenced the group, their murmurs falling into an uneasy hush.
Nion recognized the type immediately. The woman carried herself with an air of quiet authority, her piercing eyes unyielding as they locked onto Nion's. She looked like one of the elders from Grand Central, the sort who had seen too much and survived it all.
The elder spoke, her voice gravelly but firm. "Keeper, you come here cloaked in the banner of justice, but you are blind to the injustice you serve. Do you even see the people standing before you? Or are we just another problem to silence?"
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, as Nion hesitated. For a moment, she felt the weight of her role pressing down on her shoulders. But she straightened, her resolve hardening.
"I am Quarta, Guardian of the Eastern Borderline of the Lands of Alexithymia!" Nion announced, her voice cutting through the cold air like the sharp edge of a blade. "Your people are trespassing on closed borders. The penalty for such defiance is death. If you do not evacuate this territory immediately, I will have no choice but to enforce the law."
Her words were deliberate and unyielding, her tone carrying the gravity of an executioner's decree. Yet beneath her stoic exterior, her mind raced—calculating, questioning.
The group before her bristled with defiance, but their fear was palpable. Nion scanned their faces—hardened expressions that masked desperation, weary eyes that spoke of exhaustion. They were not soldiers, nor spies. They were survivors, clinging to the tattered remnants of hope.
Nion's voice softened, though its steel remained intact. "I cannot allow chaos to undermine order. However, I will grant you one minute to explain yourselves."
The air grew thick with tension, every second stretching unbearably as the group exchanged uneasy glances. The old woman stepped forward, her posture stiff with resolve despite the trembling of her hands. She looked to be a leader—reluctant, perhaps, but chosen by circumstance.
"We mean no harm," the woman said, her voice cracking under the weight of the moment. "We are fleeing death—chaos caused by the so-called Holy Order.' We have nowhere else to go."
Her words carried the anguish of countless others, the resonance of lives shattered by unimaginable horror.
Nion studied her, the edges of her own certainty fraying as the woman continued, her voice trembling yet resolute. "The new king of Elpida is dead. After the coup, everything fell apart. Anarchy reigns, and the New Order... they are monsters. They collect virgin women and children for their twisted purposes and exterminate everyone else, especially the elders. Their genocide is merciless, sparing no one outside their vision of 'purity.'"
The woman's face contorted with a mix of fear and desperation as she gestured to the group behind her. "Our children are dying, our homes destroyed. We ran because we had no choice. But even in fleeing, we are caught between two fires—the barbarity of Elpida and the unyielding walls of Alexithymia."
Nion's gaze flickered over the crowd. The haggard faces of mothers clutching their children, the hollow eyes of those who had seen too much, the grim expressions of men who bore the weight of failure—they were the faces of the displaced, the hunted.
"The Lands of Alexithymia..." the woman continued, her voice faltering as her hope threatened to crumble. "They're our last chance. Please, Quarta, have mercy."
The confrontation simmered, a fragile equilibrium teetering between rebellion and authority. Nion stood at the center of the storm, her imposing figure a symbol of the rigid law she was sworn to uphold, yet her heart wavered under the undeniable humanity in the plea before her.
For a fleeting moment, the silence stretched, and in that pause, the enormity of her decision bore down on her like an unstoppable tide. The fate of these desperate souls hung in the balance, a choice between adherence to her duty and the moral call of compassion.
"What is your name, old woman?" asked Nion. Suddenly, she sensed the imminent assault lurking in the darkness, her purple eyes igniting into flames of violet, illuminating her presence with a fierce glow.
"Old woman! Tell your people to back off!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the tense air like a blade. "You should know who I am! I am stronger—stronger than any of you! Lower your weapons now, or I will turn this place into a bloodbath the likes of which you've never seen!" Her grip tightened on her weapon, the metal solidifying into its deadly form.
"LET HER BE!" old woman voice rang out, commanding the crowd to pause.
The people surrounding Nion froze, their movements halting, though the tension only thickened, heavy as a storm cloud ready to burst.
"You impatient fools!" old woman shouted, her voice trembling with both anger and fear. "Don't you see? We are not in a position of strength. If she truly wanted to end us, we'd all be dead by now!" She took a slow step forward, her presence commanding attention. The crowd watched her cautiously, unsure whether to challenge her or to heed her words.
"My name is Kernel," she continued, her voice softening as she drew closer to Nion. "I am originally from the northern continent, but I came to Elpida years ago to join my family. I have witnessed too much suffering, too many lives lost to this endless war. But right now, we need to stop acting on impulse and think. This is not the time for revenge. If we want to survive, we need to make the right choices—together."
"I am looking for a child called Asta," Nion demanded, her tone sharp and unyielding. "Where is he?"
Kernel's face darkened, her sorrow betraying an inner struggle. "How do you know his name?"
"You are not in a position to be asking questions, old woman," Nion replied coldly.
Tears welled up in Kernel's eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. "He is—"
"ENOUGH!" one of the men in the circle interrupted, his voice thunderous with defiance. "You don't owe her an explanation! Look at her—she's alone, and we are more than a hundred strong. If we attack together now, we can end this once and for all! How long will we keep hiding and running away? We should avenge our friends and families who were killed by her bloody hands! I saw her kill Pipola in front of her children! How can you trust someone like that? She's no better than those monsters from the Holy Order!"
Another voice rose from the crowd, echoing the first. "If we don't kill her now, there won't be a tomorrow for any of us!"
"Idiots!" Kernel shouted, her voice filled with fury and grief. "How many sacrifices will it take for you to understand that violence only breeds more violence? I am done watching my people die!"
The air grew heavier, the collective stress and pressure thickening the atmosphere. The wind howled like a restless god of death, impatiently circling the scene, waiting for the inevitable climax. The group of people stood resolute, prepared to sacrifice everything to end Nion's reign and break through to the Eastern border. Beyond it lay the suburbs of the Alexithymia capital, only 20 kilometers away—a tantalizing promise of refuge.
For them, there was no turning back. Their homes had been destroyed, their elders slaughtered, their women and children hunted like prey by the New Order that now ruled Elpida. The coup d'état that had assassinated the rightful king of Elpida had unleashed chaos and anarchy, paving the way for this ruthless faction. The New Order's systematic genocide—targeting elders and claiming virgins and children—had created a massive wave of refugees, who now found themselves trapped between two deadly conflicts.
Despite their desperation, the crowd hesitated. Nion and Kernel stood in the center of the circle, their figures illuminated by the silvery moonlight as if actors in a tragic play, the final act poised on the edge of disaster.
"His brother, Alex, is alive," Nion said, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm but carried an undertone of urgency. "He is under treatment in the capital. I understand why you acted as you did, and I am willing to cooperate—but only if you tell me where Asta is."
She paused, lowering her weapon in a gesture of goodwill. "All of us have something to protect. My duty is to safeguard my country and its people. I believe you feel the same, Kernel. The past cannot be undone, and I take responsibility for my actions. But your future is now in my hands. I'm asking you to cooperate... Where is the child?"
Kernel's lips trembled as she finally answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I fear he may have been taken... by the Holy Order."
The words hung in the air like a death knell.
Before Nion could process the revelation, another dozen groups arrived at the plains, their sudden presence stirring fresh hope and fear. Nion's violet eyes scanned the newcomers, her voice rising with urgency. "Asta!" she called out, rushing from one face to another. But no reply came.
One of the newly arrived figures pointed toward the distant village, his expression grim. Nion turned to see smoke rising into the night sky. Without hesitation, she sprinted toward the source, the smoldering ruins of Speranta beckoning her into the unknown.