Selwyn stared at the masked figure, his breathing still unsteady as the tension in the room settled over them like a thick fog. The man's presence was both unnerving and oddly familiar, as if he belonged to a story Selwyn had never heard but somehow knew.
With deliberate movements, the man reached up and removed his mask, revealing a face that bore the marks of hardship. A jagged burn scar ran across his forehead, the skin faintly puckered, as though it had been seared long ago. His sharp gray eyes studied Selwyn, their intensity cutting through the young man's confusion.
"You can call me Cal Mandem," he said, his voice low but clear. "I worked with your father."
The words hit Selwyn like a punch to the gut. His father? "You... you knew my dad? He was just a firefighter. What could he possibly have to do with —" he gestured at the remnants of the chaos surrounding them, "—any of this?"
Cal tilted his head slightly, the hint of a smirk forming. "A firefighter? That's what he told you? Arten Carter was far more than that. Your father was one of the best Rogues the world has ever seen."
The room seemed to shift, the weight of Cal's words pressing down on Selwyn. "Rogues? What does that even mean?"
Cal stepped closer, his boots scuffing against the debris-strewn floor. "It means your father was part of a world you've never known — a world that exists in the shadows, protecting humanity from threats it can't even comprehend. Rogues are the unseen defenders of balance, fighting the battles no one else can."
Selwyn blinked, his head spinning as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. "You expect me to believe my dad was some kind of... secret warrior? This has to be a joke."
"I don't joke," Cal said flatly. "Your father didn't just fight fires, Selwyn. He fought creatures that would make your worst nightmares seem tame. He stopped Mana corruption that could've swallowed entire cities. And he saved lives — countless lives, without anyone ever knowing."
"Mana?" Selwyn echoed, latching onto the unfamiliar word.
"It's the lifeblood of our world, the energy that flows through everything," Cal explained. "But it's dangerous, unpredictable. In the wrong hands — or in the wrong circumstances — it can corrupt, twist reality, and create monsters that defy explanation. Rogues are trained to harness it, to use it as a weapon and a shield. But we also understand its dangers better than anyone else."
Selwyn opened his mouth to argue but found no words. Cal's gaze softened, if only slightly, as he continued.
"Rogues have existed for centuries, working in secret to keep the world from falling apart. Ever wonder why some historical events seem almost... too perfectly timed? Or why legends of monsters and heroes exist in every culture? It's because we've been there, in the shadows, fighting battles that were never meant to be seen. The fall of Rome, the Great Fire of London, even myths like Hercules and King Arthur —those are echoes of what Rogues have done. What your father was part of."
Selwyn shook his head, the pieces refusing to fit. "So, what? You're saying Rogues are behind everything?"
"Not everything," Cal corrected. "We don't control the world—we protect it. We maintain balance. When something threatens to tip the scales, we step in. Quietly, discreetly, always in the shadows. It's what we do."
Selwyn hesitated, recalling the strange encounter from a few days ago. "There were people... dressed in white robes. They stared at me like they knew me, but nothing happened. Who were they?"
Cal's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "The white robes. They were likely Sentinels, watchers of the Rogue world. Their presence wasn't a coincidence, Selwyn. They were looking for you. Or rather, they were sensing the dormant power you inherited from your father."
"Power?" Selwyn echoed, his voice rising in disbelief. "You're saying those people somehow knew who I was just by looking at me?"
"It's not quite that simple," Cal explained. "Rogues, especially those with strong bloodlines like yours, give off a signature — an aura, for lack of a better word. To trained eyes, it's as clear as a beacon. Those Sentinels likely didn't know your name, but they recognized the mark of your lineage. And make no mistake, Selwyn — they weren't there to exchange pleasantries. Their presence is rarely a good sign."
Selwyn felt a chill run down his spine. "This is insane. Why hasn't anyone heard of you people? If you're so important, why all the secrecy?"
Cal's lips curved into a wry smile. "Secrecy is our greatest weapon. The Rogue Code demands it. We operate through whispers and shadows, never drawing attention to ourselves. We have spies, informants, even allies in positions of power who don't realize they're working for us. Everything we do is to keep the balance intact, to stop humanity from stumbling into chaos."
Selwyn hesitated. "So, there's some kind of... organization?"
"There are factions," Cal said. "Each with its own strengths and culture. The Concord of Ashes in the United States, masters of technology and innovation. The Eternal Summit in India, guardians of spiritual connections and Mana manipulation. The Obsidian Crown in the UK, skilled in politics and espionage. And the Whispering Moon in Japan, experts in stealth and precision. Together, they form the backbone of our world."
Selwyn tried to process the flood of information, his thoughts spinning. "And my dad was part of this? He worked with them?"
"Not just worked with them," Cal said, his voice heavy with meaning. "He was one of the best. Arten Carter wasn't just a Rogue—he was a legend. He could wield multiple elements of Mana, something few can manage. He stopped disasters that would've devastated entire regions. He saved lives, fought monsters, and upheld the Code with a dedication few could match."
"But..." Selwyn's voice faltered. "If he was so great, why didn't he tell me? Why did he leave?"
Cal's expression darkened, a shadow passing over his face. "Because even legends make mistakes. And your father... his mistake cost him everything."
Selwyn's chest tightened, the weight of those words settling heavily. "What kind of mistake?"
But Cal didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at Selwyn with an unreadable expression, the scar on his forehead catching the firelight like a smoldering brand. "There's more you need to know—about him, about the world you've just stepped into. But not tonight."
The fire crackled between them, the sound filling the silence that followed. Selwyn's chest heaved as he fought to steady his breath, his thoughts spiraling into chaos.
"I don't understand..." he finally said, his voice barely audible.
"You will," Cal replied, his tone firm but almost gentle. "Soon enough."