Meanwhile, high above Falnora, a massive aircraft flew through the skies. Onboard were three sergeants of the special squad and their captain.
Sal stepped out of the pilot's cockpit, his blue eyes scanning the area. He looked no different from how he had three years ago.
He wore black pants and a matching vest, his footwear a pair of expensive shoes instead of boots. Draped over his shoulder was a white jacket adorned with epaulets and awards.
On his head was a black newsboy hat, matching his suit. Overall, he looked like a street tycoon who had stolen the military jacket of a decorated officer.
He glanced at the seats where the three cadets—Zandov, Yvonne, and Irene—were seated. Before the team had left the base on Emburn Island, they had been divided into three groups with balanced power dynamics.
Group one consisted of Ichor and Marceline, group two was Percy and Lassen, and group three was Irene, Zandov, and Yvonne. They had all been sent on various missions over the past month, and this would be the first time they had seen each other since.
"We've arrived at Falnora. We'll be heading straight to Serenity Hospital, downtown," Sal announced.
"A hospital?" Zandov asked, raising his head from the file in his hand. He was dressed simply, in a pair of pants and a shirt. For some reason, they weren't allowed to reveal their identities as members of the special squad unless absolutely necessary.
"Yes. We believe there are clues that lead to a codenamed file in the hospital, and the enemy is planning to destroy them. We have to secure the evidence."
Yvonne nodded, a slight frown on her face as she shifted uncomfortably. Sal glanced at her with a smile.
"It's just for a while, Yvonne."
"I hate fancy clothes. I don't get why we can't wear normal clothes. Wouldn't they help us blend in better?" she complained.
"They would. But 'fancy' is the style of the special squad. Complain to the nobles, not me," Sal chuckled in reply.
Yvonne shifted uncomfortably again, furrowing her brows as she glanced at Irene, who was resting beside Zandov with her eyes closed. Yvonne was surprised that she, a noble, was uncomfortable in such attire while Irene seemed fine.
"How are the others doing?" Zandov asked.
"I've received word that Percy and Lassen are already in Falnora and on their way to Serenity. Ichor and Marceline are en route aboard a high-speed train. They should arrive soon."
Zandov nodded, wanting to say more but refraining.
"What about us?" he asked.
"We'll be landing in five minutes."
"I would have gotten up to stretch, but I can't in these fancy clothes," Zandov chuckled.
"Oh! That reminds me. Those clothes are specially made; they're highly resistant to external damage but not internal ones. Make sure not to damage them during a fight!"
"What? That's insane!" Yvonne protested.
Zandov agreed with her. This was a code red—a situation that could cost even members of the special squad their lives if they got careless. Asking them to mind their clothes while fighting was like putting restraining chains on them.
"Meh! You can do it. Just treat it as another part of your training," Sal said as he turned around, heading back toward the cockpit.
"Will you be coming with us?" Zandov asked.
"Of course not! Except one of you dies," Sal chuckled, closing the door to the cockpit behind him.
The cabin immediately fell silent, a tense atmosphere hanging in the air. Zandov sighed and spoke up,
"Do you think he's okay?"
"He just defeated a named monster, albeit a weak one. What could possibly be wrong with him?" Irene replied.
Zandov and Yvonne looked at her with slightly shocked expressions.
"I thought you were asleep," Zandov chuckled.
"Being okay doesn't have to do with strength," Yvonne added.
"I know. But it's no use worrying about him right now. The best way to make sure he's okay is to catch up to him. At this rate, he'll leave us all in the dust," Irene concluded.
***
"Holy Moly! What the hell happened here?" Marcus's eyes were as wide as saucers as he looked around the tunnel.
He glanced at the young woman beside him, his expression one of hidden fear, worry, and shock.
"Search the area for any clues. Find Captain Emerald," the lady ordered. Behind them, a group of soldiers, all dressed in Spartan armor, spread out, covering different parts of the tunnel.
"Do you think she's alright?" the lady asked. She had blood-red locks just like Emerald's, except her eyes were powder blue.
"If there's one thing we both know, it's that Emerald is tough as hell. She isn't one to go down without a fight," the man replied, looking elsewhere to hide the betraying glint of concern in his eyes.
The lady was Major Jasmine Everhart, and the man beside her was the second captain under her command, Marcus Loman.
Marcus was a middle-aged man with blond hair and gray eyes. He had slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and lips.
He and the Major were both in Spartan armor, and beside them was a large coffin-like machine that followed closely.
What could have caused this? From the looks of all these bodies, it was likely a mutant that could control subsidiaries—a brood mother. Captain level? No, probably Major… or higher.
Marcus's eyes scanned the area as he and Jasmine walked through the tunnel, following the trail of bodies.
"Captain, we've found something! We've found body parts and… Captain Emerald."
Marcus looked at Jasmine, and both of them quickened their steps, heading toward the coordinates the soldier had provided. In a few moments, they arrived at the location.
It was even more gruesome than the previous tunnel. Blood, gore, pieces of flesh, and a few wings covered the walls.
Body after body of mutant insects lay on the floor, all of the mantis species. The whole place reeked of blood, fear, and something more sinister.
At the center of it all was a human figure clad in sleek black armor, with locked neck-length red hair and a pretty face that stood in stark contrast to the horrific scene.
Marcus rushed toward Emerald, hesitant about whether to touch her.
"I think she's dead, Captain…" one of the soldiers muttered.
"Did she leave anything behind?" Jasmine asked, her expression stoic.
"Yes, ma'am. We found this in her hand." One of the soldiers walked toward Jasmine, holding a plastic bag. Marcus followed closely.
The soldier lifted the bag, showing its contents to Jasmine.
It was a piece of meat—a small patch of skin, to be precise. Although it was covered in blood and dirt, Jasmine could see clearly what was on it.
It was a tattoo.