Under the full moon's glow, three figures huddled beneath a tree on a cliff, their eyes fixed on an enigmatic, gray-bricked structure below.
"Disguise?" Damnatio blinked, making sure he hadn't misheard. Alfred pulled out three plain, white masks from his satchel, each featureless—no eye or mouth holes—and handed one to Damnatio and the other to Sebastian.
Haze Mask, Damnatio narrowed his eyes, examining the object. [1]
Among nobles, there are countless times they must perform "dirty" deeds that can't be traced back to them. To manage this, they often pool resources to craft magic tools that help conceal their tracks. The Haze Mask was one such device.
When worn, it bonds with the user's body, molding to their face and adopting a unique pattern that reflects their mana. Beyond that, it transforms the wearer entirely, altering their body shape to something general and unremarkable, and clothing them in pure black like a shadowed silhouette.
These masks are prized tools of the aristocracy, never to be found in public markets. Any attempts by smugglers to replicate and circulate them on the dark market are swiftly... handled by the nobility. Only a select few lower-ranking nobles have access to them, and only if they pledge allegiance to higher houses.
The Haze Mask was the result of a rare partnership between House Silva and House Kira, shortly after Conrad took office as Wizard King. Despite their mutual disdain, Sebastian and Lux had put aside their differences, knowing that to continue their work undetected, they'd need a tool even Conrad's sharp gaze couldn't pierce.
Needless to say, the artisan who crafted this device—after many sleepless nights and promises of wealth—had also been "removed" from the world. He knew too much.
The Haze Masks in the possession of House Silva and House Kira, however, were even more refined. After all, royalty could never settle for mere nobility's tools. Theirs not only concealed their bodies but also disguised their grimoires. Their covers and spines turned featureless black, and their auras dulled to a muted gray.
Sebastian nodded, his voice calm and steady. "Who knows who might be watching? It's only natural to take precautions. After all, we're about to hunt a general—something as high-profile as this will definitely attract attention."
Damnatio returned the nod, understanding the logic. Precautions were sensible, given the circumstances. What threw him off was the faint smile threatening to form on Sebastian's face.
Why does Lord Silva seem so… excited? Damnatio wondered, trying to make sense of it. Could it be nerves about the upcoming battle?
But anxiety wasn't even close to what Sebastian felt. No, the battle itself was a mere formality—a minor engagement. Just an Eight Shining General, he thought dismissively. Though the generals were ranked among the Clover Kingdom's captains and the Heart Kingdom's Spirit Guardians, everyone knew they were far from the same caliber. And this general? Even among the "elite," he was hardly worth a second thought. Fodder among fodder.
Sebastian Silva's excitement stemmed from something entirely different. What man doesn't secretly dream of becoming a shadowy figure, dressed in black, slipping through the night like some legendary shinobi? He could feel the thrill building as he imagined it: an unknown operative from a hidden organization, carrying out high-stakes missions while the world scrambled to uncover his identity, never suspecting House Silva's unassuming patriarch.
Holding the mask, Sebastian's fingers trembled with excitement. I can already see it—the world on edge, speculating, theorizing, never once suspecting me. A thrill of satisfaction washed over him. Is this what Cid Kagenou feels?
For a brief moment, he felt the addictive allure of becoming an "eminence in the shadows," of being the figure who moves unseen, taunting others with the barest hints, skirting the line of discovery yet always remaining hidden.
Does this make me a pervert? Sebastian chuckled to himself. But Damnatio's voice snapped him back to reality.
"Lord Silva… you're trembling…" Damnatio's voice held a note of hesitance. Sebastian felt a sheepish grin trying to surface, catching Damnatio's unsure, bewildered expression as he did.
Clearing his throat to regain his composure, Sebastian took a moment to look Damnatio over, a thought stirring that seemed to make the younger man visibly uncomfortable.
"Damnatio…" Sebastian began, his tone a little too casual, hoping to cut through the awkwardness.
"Yes, Lord Silva?" Damnatio straightened, trying to resume his indifferent, professional stance.
Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. "You can call me uncle, if you like."
An awkward silence swallowed the group. House Silva's Head Butler, Alfred Pennyworth, lowered his head, pretending not to have heard a thing. Damnatio, however, immediately recoiled, taking a step back, his hair practically standing on end as he stared at Sebastian with undisguised horror.
Pinching his nose, he replied nasally, "Lord Silva, please conduct yourself with appropriate decorum. That's Lord Kira to you."
Whatever tenuous partnership they'd had, Damnatio had now drawn a clear line, and the gap between them widened into a chasm.
Sebastian struggled to brush it off, forcing a casual shrug. Forget it, he thought wryly. If there were an FBI in this world, I wouldn't have a defense. I even gave myself the creeps saying that.
Without another word, Sebastian lifted the mask and placed it over his face. Instantly, the mask shifted, molding itself to fit him like a second skin. The featureless surface transformed: sharp, eagle-like eye slits opened, outlined in blue, revealing Sebastian's striking blue eyes beneath. A mouth hole shaped like an eagle's beak formed, and sleek silver feather patterns adorned the rest, giving it a fierce, dignified elegance.
His entire outfit morphed, flowing into a seamless black stealth suit from top to toe. His grimoire satchel melded into a belt pouch, and his grimoire itself lost all its markings, becoming a shadowed, featureless black.
When he spoke, his voice emerged altered—devoid of emotion, flat and mechanical, erasing any trace of his usual tone. "Gentlemen, it's your turn."
Alfred nodded and donned his own mask. It reshaped itself into a silver-gray wolf, with subtle fur-like patterns along its edges. Instantly, his clothing turned to match Sebastian's, a sleek black suit cloaking his now noticeably more athletic frame, adding a layer of muscle until he matched Sebastian's build.
Damnatio sighed, reluctantly following suit. His mask settled into the shape of a green owl, accented with brown feathers. His transformation was the most dramatic: his height increased, and his entire silhouette altered, making him nearly indistinguishable from the other two. [2]
Sebastian surveyed them with satisfaction. He pointed to himself. "I'm Blue Eagle," he said, then gestured to Alfred, "you're Gray Wolf," and finally to Damnatio, "and you're Green Owl."
Alfred and Damnatio nodded, both keeping their expressions neutral. Damnatio spoke, his voice equally robotic. "So, are we ambushing them here, over the dungeon?" He gestured to the arcane gray structure below.
Sebastian gave him a flat look, showing no inclination to answer.
Damnatio bit back an impending headache and sighed, though the Haze Mask rendered the sound completely devoid of feeling. "Are we ambushing them here, Blue Eagle?" he emphasized the name, earning a nod of approval from Sebastian.
"Negative, Green Owl," Sebastian replied, shaking his head. "The White Serpent will be here soon, and even if they're inside the dungeon, they might have ways to monitor what happens outside. Initiating a conflict here could alert them—and expose us."
He then looked over at Alfred, who nodded and pointed toward a distant mountain range beyond the dungeon. "As Blue Eagle previously instructed, I mapped out the direction from which the Diamond forces are likely to approach. The quickest and most discreet route for crossing our borders is through that mountain pass—the Galen Heights. That's where we'll set our ambush." [3]
Damnatio nodded in agreement, as Sebastian addressed them one final time. "Alright, gentlemen, it's time for the Secret Organization to make its mark on the world. We can't let Master L down!" Sebastian declared passionately, clenching his fist.
Damnatio blinked. Who's Master L?
Alfred made no comment, simply nodding in silent agreement. As long as my lord is having fun, that's all that matters.
Four Hours Later:
The horizon began to brighten as the first hints of sunlight crept up, casting an orange-red glow over the Galen Heights. The mountain range, usually untouched and empty of human presence, was soon disturbed by the arrival of a single cart—a cart made entirely of smoke, barreling forward across the rugged terrain.
Yes, a smoke cart, carrying around ten people.
Among them were seven indistinct figures—extras who needed no description.
At the front of the cart stood a young, striking man with a grimoire floating before him. His medium-length black hair framed a subtle mustache and a goatee, which gave him a mature, if slightly rakish, look. A triple-diamond headpiece adorned the right side of his forehead, marking him as someone of notable rank. He was Lotus Whomalt, a 22-year-old Adjutant General of the Diamond Kingdom—one of the youngest to ever hold such a title, and the mage responsible for the smoke construct propelling them forward.
To his left sat a young man of average height with messy red hair, blue eyes, and a frown that seemed too heavy for his sixteen-year-old face. He was Fanzell Kruger, one of the Diamond Kingdom's most promising talents in recent years, praised and groomed for greatness by his superiors—and even the king.
In the back seat of the cart, perched alone on a bench, sat one man in solitary dignity, his rank and presence setting him apart from the others. He was a short, elderly man with a hunched back and hair so gray it nearly obscured his eyes. His expression was unreadable save for the smug grin that crept from his nose down. Clad in a Diamond Kingdom uniform, he was none other than Yagos—one of the Eight Shining Generals, senior to most in the Diamond military, respected not only for his rank but also for his age and experience.
As they approached the Galen Heights, Yagos cast a sidelong glance at Fanzell, his voice rasping with a hollow, eerie cheerfulness. "Don't tell me, you're still on the fence about this mission, Fanzell?"
Fanzell stiffened, then quickly stood and saluted. "Sir, no, Sir!" His face turned impassive as he locked eyes with where he imagined Yagos' eyes to be, his tone resolute.
Yagos' grin didn't falter—in fact, it seemed to deepen as he let out a chilling chuckle. "Good, good. It would dishearten me to have to snuff out such a promising talent... for insubordination."
"I wouldn't dare, Sir!" Fanzell replied sharply, ignoring the burning glares from his so-called comrades.
Neither Fanzell nor Yagos caught the brief narrowing of Lotus' eyes or the fleeting frown that crossed his face as he listened from the front of the cart, controlling the smoke spell with his back turned to them.
Yagos paused, nodding slowly. "Everything we do is for the sake of the Diamond Kingdom. You understand that, don't you?"
"Yes, Sir!" Fanzell answered firmly.
Yagos' twisted grin stretched wider, almost grotesque, as he finished his probing. "At ease, soldier."
Fanzell dropped his salute and returned to his seat, his expression unchanging. On the surface, he looked calm, composed. But inwardly, he sneered.
Sake of the Diamond Kingdom—don't give me that! Fanzell seethed inwardly, clenching his fist to release even a fraction of his disgust.
He wasn't some naive idealist; he had no illusions about his role as a soldier. Killing was part of his duty—especially eliminating enemy troops who threatened Diamond. He would strike down the White Serpent's soldiers without hesitation. But not like this, he thought bitterly. Taking lives in an honest fight on the battlefield, where everyone accepted the risk of dying—that he could stomach. But a sneak attack? That was just a massacre waiting to happen. This isn't a battle; it's a slaughter.
Yet, even a slaughter was something he might swallow in the name of duty. Not every fight happens on even ground, and Diamond's best chance lay in being the predator, not the prey. But what made Fanzell truly sick, what tore at his conscience, was the twisted deals with Clover Kingdom's nobility, the trafficking of lives, and his complicity in the horrific experiments that awaited those captives.
And not just them, he thought, horrified. Even our own—the children of Diamond—will be fed to that bastard's ambitions.
A face flashed in his mind: short, blond hair, tinted glasses. Morris Libardirt—the so-called Magic Scholar, the other prized prodigy of his generation.
Fanzell had once tried to understand where it had all gone wrong. Diamond had always struggled, forced to work its mines to survive. Their incursions into Clover weren't mindless aggression but desperate attempts to seize fertile land and resources to pull themselves out of poverty. Yet, even in their hardships, they had once been a people of honor, tempered by struggle, united in resilience.
It was that fierce spirit that had driven Fanzell to grow stronger, to join the military and fight for his kingdom—to find a way out for his people.
But everything changed once that bastard got his grimoire.
Fanzell and Morris had known each other since childhood. Growing up in the same area, attending the same magic school, visiting the same shops and training facilities—they'd crossed paths countless times. But they weren't friends, not even close. They'd simply... known of each other.
Fanzell and Morris couldn't have been more different. The only real bond they shared was the label of "orphan." Fanzell was strong, healthy, driven, outgoing, with a natural talent for magic. Morris, by contrast, was a withdrawn bookworm, a blind, crippled child in a kingdom that valued strength and capability above all else.
In Diamond, where power was everything, a boy like Morris had no choice but to endure relentless scorn. He was bullied, spat on, treated as little more than a burden. Unable even to work the mines like most of the impoverished, he was an outcast in every sense.
Fanzell had pitied Morris, but he'd had no time to protect him or play caretaker. They weren't close, and Fanzell had his own dream: to grow strong, rise in the ranks, and one day change the kingdom so it wouldn't oppress people like Morris.
So he'd thrown Morris a few hollow words of encouragement and returned to his training, determined to carve out his path.
And I used to feel guilty about that, Fanzell thought darkly, but if I'd known then what he was really like... I might have joined his bullies.
A year ago, everything changed when they received their grimoires. Morris, who had once been meek and submissive, flipped completely. The boy who'd endured years of abuse turned into a vicious, unrecognizable creature, lashing out at anyone who'd ever wronged him.
Over the next few months, one by one, all of his tormentors disappeared. When Fanzell and his superiors finally investigated, they found a scene so grotesque it still haunted Fanzell, a sickening memory he couldn't erase. Beneath Morris' hovel was a hidden cellar—a lab. And in that lab, Fanzell saw something that would scar him forever.
Morris was cackling, a maniacal, perverse grin twisting his face as he stood amidst the dismembered bodies of those who had tormented him. But they weren't just dead—they were mutilated, their remains pieced together in grotesque, unnatural forms. Animals, magical beasts, and even plant life had been sewn into the bodies in twisted mockery of life itself.
Morris shouted at them with such fervor that it still sent chills down Fanzell's spine. "I've done it! I've done it, you ingrates! I discovered the truth of this world!"
It didn't take long for Morris to be captured, dragged before the king. Fanzell, like the rest of them, expected to hear him beg for mercy, confess his sins, and then face the executioner's axe. But that wasn't what happened.
Instead, the kingdom was thrown into chaos when word spread that not only had Morris not been punished, but he was actually praised by His Majesty. In a matter of days, Morris was elevated to the position of chief of magical development—one of the most powerful figures in the kingdom.
He got everything he wanted—money, resources, lab equipment, and materials. Most of those materials were human lives. Our lives. His experiments, twisted and cruel as they were, bore results. Morris had found ways to create powerful magical devices, even biologically enhancing the magic of living creatures. And the more successful he became, the more freedom he gained to continue his work unchecked.
And that, Fanzell thought bitterly, was when everything truly went downhill.
I regret hesitating and not striking him down when I first had the chance, Fanzell thought bitterly, the weight of his regret pressing heavily on him. Now Morris is too highly valued, too protected by the kingdom. Even if I wanted to take him down, I couldn't. And even if I succeeded, the consequences... the fate awaiting me— and them—would be far worse!
He thought of several faces, faces he could never forget. The beautiful witch with orange hair, who followed him out of the Witch Forest, becoming a craftsman for the kingdom. The children he had been ordered to train, innocent, unaware of the dark future that awaited them under Morris' cruel plans. Among them, two in particular weighed on his heart: Dominante, Mars, Fana... He felt helpless, like the walls were closing in on him.
It was as if Morris had the king, the whole kingdom, under his spell. No matter how morally corrupt or depraved his actions were, he received only praise, support, and power. The day Morris had received his grimoire was the day Diamond Kingdom's darkest secrets were set loose. I feel like a stranger in my own kingdom, Fanzell thought, his heart heavy. The streets, the faces—everything is the same, but everyone's different.
Fanzell wanted to confront Morris. He wanted to do something, anything to stop him. But there were others who tried before him. They all failed. And they were either executed for 'insubordination' or simply disappeared without a trace. One of them was even a member of the Eight Shining Generals—a person of great standing—yet they met the same brutal fate.
The generals, those who should have opposed Morris, who had worked hard and trained the right way, said nothing. They didn't even blink at the horrors unfolding. They refused to act, or maybe they didn't dare. If even the generals, the pillars of this kingdom, are silent, what can people like us do?
Fanzell had been ready to risk everything, to take down Morris and bring the kingdom back to its senses, even if it meant mutual destruction. But then, someone stopped him.
He glanced to his side, studying the back of the man who had stopped him: Lotus Whomalt. The one person who seemed to agree with Fanzell that Morris had to be stopped.
At first, Fanzell didn't understand why Lotus had intervened. If they were of the same mind, why not work together to end this nightmare? But Lotus had stopped him and made him see a different path.
"You can't do it, Fanzell," Lotus had said, his voice serious. "If you go down that road, the people you care about, and many others, will face a terrible fate." Lotus paused, his eyes clouding with concern. "I've just gotten married. I can't risk losing everything."
Fanzell's frustration boiled over. What should I do, then? he demanded.
And that was when Lotus gave him his answer.
"Climb."
"Climb?" Fanzell had echoed, confused.
"Climb the ladder. Rise through the ranks of the military, reach the top, and become someone they cannot ignore. Become someone whose opinions matter more than Morris." Lotus had said it with such conviction. "Reach a level higher than the Eight Shining Generals, and prove that your value to this kingdom is greater than his. Fix this."
"Like the Wizard King of the Clover Kingdom?"
"Exactly," Lotus had nodded. But then his gaze turned solemn. "But it's an unrealistic goal, Fanzell. You don't have the kind of talent that would allow you to reach such a height."
Fanzell had thought about it. He knew Lotus was right. Reaching the level of an Eight Shining General was already an immense challenge, and going beyond that was a feat he could only dream of. But even if I did manage to do it, he wondered, would it even be worth it?
The time it would take—how many lives would be lost to Morris' twisted experiments in that span? How many people, possibly even those he cared for, would suffer before he could stop it?
Fanzell felt hopeless. The fire that once burned inside of me, to serve the kingdom, to rise up and become stronger, it's almost gone. I can barely recognize the man I once was. His neatly combed hair was now messy. His once-groomed facial hair was unkempt. He had been a soldier—someone who stood with honor and determination. But now, everything seems meaningless.
If it weren't for the few people still shining light into his life, Fanzell wondered if he would have already given up.
At the very least, I have to find a way to save those children! Fanzell clenched his fists in frustration, only to jerk forward when the cart stopped abruptly.
"Ack!" One of his comrades grunted in annoyance at the sudden halt.
Fanzel shared the sentiment, glancing up at Lotus to voice his confusion—only to fall silent as he took in Lotus's uncharacteristically grim expression and furrowed brows.
"G-General Lotus—" another comrade began.
"Silence!" Yagos cut him off sharply, making everyone stiffen as they turned toward him. Like Lotus, his usual grin was absent, replaced by a deadly seriousness. Beneath his wild hair, his right eye glinted as he spoke clearly.
"We have company. Everyone, be on guard—"
Yagos trailed off, his eyes widening as he noticed several tiny drops of water hovering in the air around them—ten in total.
Lotus broke into a sweat, barely managing to choke out three words. "Enemy attack, dodge—"
The droplets instantly transformed into beams of high-pressure water, firing at everyone.
Lotus lunged sideways, tackling Fanzel out of the way just as a beam zipped past, narrowly missing them both.
As for Yagos, he reacted in a flash, trying to contain the beam targeting him within a yellow, mucus-like membrane. But his eyes widened in shock as the beam tore through it, only slightly slowed. He jerked his head to the side just in time.
The beam grazed his cheek before punching a hole through the smoke cart, finally dissipating after traveling a few more meters. Yagos stared at the damage in horror.
But the other seven weren't as lucky. Each beam struck dead center, piercing their chests where their hearts were. Those fast enough to try raising a magical defense didn't stand a chance—the beams sliced through their spells like a knife through butter.
As the smoke cart dissolved around them, Yagos landed lightly on the ground with a grace unexpected for someone his age.
"General Lotus, are you alright?!" Fanzell asked, looking up at Lotus, who was still lying on top of him.
Lotus paused, frowning slightly before nodding. He got to his feet and offered Fanzell a hand. "I should be asking you that, Fanzell," he said, trying to muster a smile.
Fanzell nodded, his face damp with sweat as he accepted the hand. "Yes, sir… And thank you for saving my life!"
If they weren't on a battlefield, he'd have bowed and saluted, but right now, staying alert was the priority.
Lotus nodded, waving off the thanks. "It was nothing." It really was nothing. He narrowed his eyes. When he'd tackled Fanzell, ready to sacrifice himself to save the kid with such a promising future, he'd noticed something strange—the beams heading toward them had suddenly shifted, skimming just past his leg instead.
What is this about? Lotus's gaze shifted to his seven fallen comrades, their grimoires flickering out, confirming the worst—they were dead. He glanced over at Yagos, the only other and true survivor, his powers barely enough to save him.
Noticing Yagos scanning the area, too preoccupied to focus on them, Lotus felt a mix of emotions. I don't know if I should be thankful, happy, or scared. Thankful that Yagos hadn't noticed the odd shift in the attack—didn't see it and wonder if they were somehow connected to the ambusher; happy that their superior was alive, keeping some hope alive; or scared that the attacker seemed to have… other plans for them.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" Yagos yelled, fury radiating from him as his mana flared, searching for their assailant. His usual smug pride was gone, replaced by a desperate edge.
Was this a Clover Kingdom trap?! Yagos's mind raced, immediately suspecting Lux had betrayed them, or maybe had been playing them all along.
Unaware that Lux was dead, Yagos hadn't received the news yet. Word spread slowly, even with spies, and the Diamond Kingdom had only recently been informed. They hadn't had the chance to pass it along to him, and even if they had, Yagos likely wouldn't retreat. Losing their promised payment mattered, but wiping out a squad of magic knights and striking at the Clover Kingdom's power was too tempting.
While Yagos continued cursing the dead Lux, inching closer to Lotus and Fanzell with the plan to use them as shields in case of another attack, he stopped, startled, as the unexpected happened.
Lotus and Fanzell froze too, watching as a puddle of water spread across the path in front of them. Suddenly, three figures leaped out of it.
They were of the same height and build, each clad in identical black, featureless stealth suits. Their only distinguishing features were the masks covering their faces.
The figure in the middle, arms folded behind his back, wore a blue eagle-like mask. To his right, standing slightly behind him with hands clasped in front, was another figure in a wolf-like mask, and on his left, arms at his sides, stood the last one with a green owl-like mask.
"Who are you?! What force do you belong to? State your affiliation immediately!" Yagos demanded, his grimoire floating before him as he edged closer to Lotus and Fanzell.
Lotus and Fanzell mirrored his actions, their grimoires hovering in front of them as they studied the mysterious trio.
The middle figure spoke, his voice altered and emotionless. "Our organization is not something sinners like you deserve to know. For now, you may call us the Secret Order."
Secret Order? Lotus, Fanzell, and Yagos exchanged subtle glances, none of them showing any hint of recognition.
"What is that?! Explain yourself!" Yagos snapped, his usual arrogance in full display. Used to commanding respect, he ordered them as if they were his subordinates, failing to grasp that these people owed him no answers.
The man in the blue mask ignored him and turned his back to face the other two masked figures.
That infuriated the trio—being shown someone's back in battle meant one of two things: either the person was inexperienced or didn't see them as a threat.
Lotus, Fanzell, and Yagos weren't geniuses, but they were seasoned enough to understand it was definitely the latter.
A vein popped in Yagos's forehead as his mana flared again. He pointed angrily at the man in the blue mask. "Don't you dare ignore me, boy!"
"Mucus Magic: Mucus Wave!" he bellowed, sending a huge wave of yellow mucus hurtling toward the trio, ready to engulf and suffocate them.
But the scene he'd envisioned—of them writhing and burning under his attack—never happened. Instead, Yagos and his comrades watched in shock as the mucus wave froze just before it reached the masked figures. Then, before their stunned eyes, the yellow slime shifted to a pure ocean blue and reversed direction, surging back toward them.
Shit! Lotus cursed inwardly, reacting quickly. He conjured smoke platforms beneath all three of them, and with a swift gesture, Fanzell summoned a gust of wind that lifted them just in time to dodge the massive wave, that flooded the area below.
Hovering in the air, Yagos trembled as he pointed at the man in the blue mask, still turned away. "H-How did you do that?!"
Yagos was rattled. In all his years, he'd never experienced someone not only wrest control of his magic but also turn it against him. Yet the man in the blue mask ignored him, speaking in that same emotionless tone to his companions.
"Gray Wolf, Green Owl," he said, turning to face the three Diamond soldiers at last. Pointing to Lotus and Fanzel, he commanded, "Capture them. Master L wants them alive." Then, gesturing dismissively at Yagos, he continued, "As for this trash, I'll eliminate him."
Gray Wolf nodded, his body cloaked in a silver-gray aura that extended to Green Owl, lifting them both into the air to face Lotus and Fanzell.
Green Owl blinked under his mask. Who's Master L?
Meanwhile, the man in the blue mask stepped forward, summoning steps of solidified water beneath him. The pressurized water formed stable platforms, though it wasn't ice, and he ascended without so much as a splash.
As he climbed the steps with calm, measured strides, hands clasped behind his back, he finally addressed Yagos.
"Remember the man who killed you," he said coolly. "Blue Eagle."
Omake:
As the trio of masked figures observed the smoke cart near Galen Heights from a cliff, Blue Eagle turned to the others.
"Green Owl, Gray Wolf, I need your input on something."
Green Owl ignored him, giving the silent treatment, so Gray Wolf cleared his throat. "Yes, what is it, mast— Blue Eagle?" he stammered, quickly correcting himself under Blue Eagle's intense gaze. Blue Eagle gave an approving nod before moving closer to the cliff's edge.
Clasping his hands behind his back, he peered down at the distant scene. "How should we approach this group?"
Green Owl's focus snapped back. Finally, he's being serious, he thought, seeing a chance to contribute something useful. "If either of you can get me near the cart without being seen, I can restrain their magic—"
"Stop." Blue Eagle cut him off with a dismissive wave.
Was the plan really that bad? Green Owl wondered, frowning, until Blue Eagle spoke again.
"These are just fodder. We don't need anything fancy to handle them. No, I'm talking about something far more important!"
Green Owl blinked, confused. "And what… would that be?"
"Our entrance, of course!"
Huh? Green Owl blinked again, while Gray Wolf quickly looked down, pretending not to hear.
"Every team needs to make a memorable debut!" Blue Eagle declared, raising a finger to the sky as he continued with conviction. "This is more crucial than life itself. Our aura and reputation are on the line! If we don't make an impact when we appear, no one will ever take us seriously!"
Silence settled over the group as Green Owl blinked yet again. Then, abruptly turning on his heel, he began walking away. I'm done here.
"Come back, Green Owl!" Blue Eagle called, but he was met with nothing but silence. "This is insubordination! If you return now, I'll personally vouch for you to Master L—"
Green Owl stopped and spun around, his voice dripping with exasperation. "Who the hell is Master L?!"
Meanwhile, far away in the Clover Kingdom, in the base of the Grey Deer, Julius slumped over a mountain of paperwork, signing off the tasks he'd let pile up. I need an assistant, he sighed inwardly, rubbing his left eye in frustration.
"Weird, why does my eye suddenly feel so itchy?" he murmured.
If Julius had a mirror, he would have noticed a swirl of darkness in his eye—something was unsettled.
Author's Notes:
[1] It is not a canon device, made by me
[2] Owls are seen as wise, and in many literature depictions as forces of justice and judgment. I would think if Damnatio had a spirit animal, it would be an owl
[3] Galen is Greek for calm and peaceful, a name inspired by Golan Heights
[4] Join the Discord Server at: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar