"We have forgotten that we must fight for our life. We have forgotten that living is a privilege, not a given right," a survivor of the January NC 767 disaster later wrote.
...
It was deep into the night by the time the survivors finished clearing away the remains of the Executors. Emilia stood with her brother, Friedrich, watching the aftermath in silence. The day's events had left her with a fractured perception of the world.
Emilia still hadn't recovered from the battle—or rather, the massacre. Hundreds of Executors had swarmed into Hiemalis City, the capital of the Borealis Republic, leaving death and devastation in their wake.
They tried to stop the executor and killed a few at the beginning, but there were too many of them. It took hours for even the Legion to find and kill the rest, also leaving numerous deaths behind.
Desperation clung to Emilia; her friends—Ego, Florence, William, and the Zabelle sisters—had survived, though they were left with severe injuries.
Fortunately, the Legion had managed to erect barriers around the city in time, containing the Executors and preventing even further destruction.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Friedrich's voice held a heavy sigh.
"They were colossal. We seemed insignificant in their presence," Emilia murmured, her voice filled with awe and horror.
They approached the largest of the fallen creatures, lying sprawled in the center of the arena. It towered even in death, its form stretching higher than a three-story building. Just one of these beings could have decimated the city. The others, though smaller, were still immense, dwarfing any human in their shadow.
Despite its lifelessness, the Executor's ghastly form still sent chills through Emilia. Six wings fanned out around a body covered in countless eyes, each one staring blankly into the world. Survivors would later recount, "Their bodies, hands, and wings were adorned with eyes—eyes that seemed to bore into one's very soul."
The Executor's body, glowing faintly white, gave off an eerie, supernatural light. Reflected off the blood-soaked ground, it cast a pinkish-red hue into the dark, wintry air, suffusing the night with a haunting reminder of the battle.
Emilia felt her chest tighten with each breath, the stench of death thick and inescapable.
"At least we won this time," Emilia whispered, barely audible.
"It wasn't a victory," Friedrich replied, his voice carrying a sorrowful weight.
They looked into the horizon, though only darkness was visible; the sky, shrouded in clouds, hid the stars and the moon. But even through the darkness, Emilia felt the absence of the protective barrier that had kept them safe from the Executors for centuries. Now it was gone, leaving the continent exposed to the horrors beyond.
"What can we do now?" Emilia's voice trembled, her hand gripping Friedrich's, her fear evident.
"What do you want to do?" Friedrich asked, meeting her gaze.
"I want to get a good night's sleep. I want to wake up tomorrow, realize this was all a nightmare, and go back to our normal lives." She gave a sad, forced chuckle.
"But it's all too real. The barrier that shielded us for three hundred years is gone." Friedrich's voice held a deep sorrow.
"I know." Emilia lowered her head, feeling the weight of his words.
"The fifth Judgment is coming, and we're not ready."
"I know."
"These Executors… they'll be everywhere. Even our mighty palace won't be safe."
"I know." Her voice was resigned, filled with a sadness that ran deep.
"We stopped them this time, but there won't be a 'next time.'"
"I know." The heaviness in her voice mirrored his.
After a silence, Friedrich spoke again, his tone firm. "I've made up my mind, Emilia. I'm joining the Legion."
"What?" Emilia blinked, startled. "No… No, Friedrich. You're not leaving me here alone. You're staying!"
"I've thought it through." Friedrich's expression was resolute. "People are dying. I can't stand by and do nothing."
"No!" Emilia protested, her voice rising with desperation. "They'll send you to the front lines. You'll be risking your life."
"I know. But someone has to go. The frontline will be everywhere."
"Others will step up. You don't have to do this, Friedrich."
"There won't be enough, Emilia. Nations aren't prepared for this level of chaos. They were busy dealing with themselves. You should know this." Friedrich's voice held a grim certainty.
"There won't ever be enough people," Emilia insisted, her voice pleading. "That's why you should stay here, with us—with me, with everyone who cares about you."
Friedrich's expression softened, but his resolve remained. "I'm sorry, Emilia. I need to do this. Joining the Legion… it's my way of making things right."
"No, Friedrich! You've done nothing wrong," she argued, her voice breaking. "You saved countless lives today. You saved me. You don't owe anyone anything."
"But I've taken lives too," Friedrich confessed, his voice heavy with guilt. "Saving others doesn't erase my sins."
"It was three years ago! Those you killed were murderers. They deserved what they got," Emilia argued, her cheeks flushed with frustration.
"They deserved a second chance," Friedrich said quietly. "I had no right to take that from them. And I hurt their families, innocent people who lost loved ones because of my actions."
"I don't believe in sins or redemption, Friedrich! If there was a merciful god, none of this would have happened." Her voice was fierce, her eyes burning with emotion. "You don't have to go!"
"Emilia, listen to me." Friedrich's tone was gentle but firm. "I've wanted to join the Legion for a long time. I need to know the truth about the invisible barrier, about the Judgment. And above all… I want to protect you."
She looked at him, unable to find words. She knew him too well; once Friedrich decided on something, no one could change his mind.
"I'm sorry, Emilia." Friedrich placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you just arrived, and now I'm leaving. But I'll write you a letter every month—no, every week."
Emilia tried to hold back her tears, but they broke free, staining her cold-reddened cheeks. "I'd rather talk to you in person," she whispered.
"It'll be alright, Emilia," Friedrich reassured her, pulling her into a hug, something rare for him. "Remember our promise from this morning? I'll come back when you graduate. I keep my promises."
Emilia nodded slowly, finding comfort in his embrace, even as her heart ached with the knowledge of his decision.
...
They spent their last night together in the quiet house, wrapped in an unsettling silence that felt heavier than sleep. Emilia lay awake, listening to Friedrich's breathing from the next room, dreading the morning she knew would come.
At dawn, Friedrich handed Emilia over to Mr. Weinberg, who would protect the younger students as they traveled by train to the central city. Nestled in the high mountains to the south, the Central City, once a formidable fortress during the civil war, stood as the safest place on the New Continent.
The siblings exchanged their final goodbyes, their words few but filled with a weight neither could fully express. Friedrich held her hand for a moment longer, his grip lingering as if it could somehow protect her through all that was to come.
Friedrich, standing with Igor and Florence, stayed and watched the train left.
The steam whistle blew, its shrill sound cutting through the morning air, echoing like a final farewell. The train began to move, slowly at first, then with gathering speed.
The whistle's cry grew distant. The train receded, fading from sight, and soon only empty tracks stretched out into the horizon.