You asked how it all started, how I ended up in this mess. The truth? It wasn't one big moment that pushed me to this point. It was a series of small ones, each building on the last until there was no way out. But let me start from the beginning, because I suppose that's where you need to understand me.
The city wasn't built for moments like this. It wasn't made for chaos or fear. People talk about this place like it's some kind of sanctuary, like it's a fortress with walls that can protect you from everything outside. But that's all lies. The truth is, this place is as fragile as anything else. The stone walls are cracked, the foundations weak, and it's only a matter of time before it all falls apart. I think we all knew that, deep down.
And yet, even as the world outside cracked and crumbled, we still went on. We carried on our lives, trading, working, laughing, loving, all under the constant threat of war, of something worse than what we could imagine. The kind of fear you can feel in your bones, even if you can't name it.
That was the mood the day things started to shift. The air was thick. People were jittery, moving faster than usual, eyes darting around like animals caught in a trap. You could smell it—the tension, the unspoken dread of something coming. Something big.
I wasn't sure what to make of it at first. I'd seen the soldiers march through before, heard rumors of the advancing darkness to the north, but it wasn't real to me. Not yet. Not until that day.
I was with my friend, Keelen, when we heard the first whispers. "We have to go," he said, his voice shaky as he shoved through the crowd. His pace was quick, too quick, like he knew something I didn't.
"Where?" I asked, struggling to keep up as the crush of people around us pushed and shoved, all moving in the same direction. Everyone was heading to the platform, drawn like moths to a flame.
Keelen didn't answer. He just moved faster.
I could feel the pulse of the crowd around us, could feel the hum of anticipation. We were getting closer to the front, closer to where the soldiers were standing, their dark uniforms a stark contrast against the heat of the day. And then, like a switch flipping, the crowd fell silent. I didn't even realize it at first—one moment, everyone was moving and chattering, and the next, it was as if the air itself had been sucked out of the square.
I pushed through the last few people, finally getting a glimpse of what had caused the sudden hush. There, standing tall and unmoving, was Commander Knod.
He had a presence, a gravity that seemed to pull everything around him in. His armor was as dark as the night, black and gleaming, with pale blonde hair spilling over his shoulders. But it was his eyes that caught me—the cold, dead grey of them, like he'd seen more death than a man should in a lifetime. His gaze swept over the crowd, and it was as if he could see every one of us, even though we were lost in the masses.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Then, he spoke.
"The Hojo no Umi has fallen," he said, his voice low and steady. He didn't need to shout; his words carried. "All who sought refuge within its walls are gone. Every last one."
I didn't hear the gasps or the murmurs that followed. The world seemed to stop. The Hojo no Umi was more than just a fortress—it was a symbol. It was the last line of defense against the darkness creeping down from the north. If it had fallen…
I wasn't sure how to process the weight of it.
But the crowd? The crowd couldn't handle it. The wail came first from an old woman, her voice cracking as she dropped to her knees, hands pressed to the ground. "My son!" she cried. "My son!" Her sobs echoed through the square, and I could feel the grief ripple outward, spreading like a disease.
It wasn't just her. It was all of us. The shock, the loss, the weight of knowing that the world we had tried to build was crumbling. It hit us all at once.
Knod didn't flinch. He didn't move. He just stood there, as cold and unfeeling as his eyes.
"I have failed," he said, his voice carrying that same steadiness. "I failed my men, the ones who died slowing the enemy's advance. I failed the innocents who believed they would be safe behind those walls. And I failed you—every last one of you who has lost someone to the darkness that is coming."
He paused. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the kind that feels like a heavy weight pressing against your chest.
"I swear," he said, voice thick with a promise, "I will not rest until every last creature in Illicius has been destroyed. Until I have bathed my blade in their blood. I will not return until the threat is gone."
And then, as if the very act of speaking his oath had shifted something in the crowd, the atmosphere changed. The people around me, the ones who had been silent moments ago, began to stir. The murmurs turned into something else, something dangerous. Bloodlust.
"The Prefecture needs soldiers," Knod continued, his voice steady again. "I won't force you, but if you wish to avenge your loved ones, there is only one way. Join us. Fight with us."
It was like a fire had been lit beneath them. The crowd surged forward, people pushing past one another, scrambling toward the recruitment tents. The air grew thick with a strange energy, as though everyone around me had forgotten what fear was, only seeing vengeance.
I stood frozen.
Keelen, still beside me, was looking at the tents, his expression grim. "I don't think we should join," he muttered under his breath.
"What?" I said, confusion flaring in my chest. I turned to him, eyes wide. "Are you serious? This is our chance. We can do something, finally."
Keelen shook his head, backing away from the crowd, his shoulders slumped. "I don't want to die. Not yet. I'd rather live with what's left than risk it all."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. But he turned away, leaving me standing there, my heart racing as I watched him disappear into the sea of people.
"That no-good coward," I muttered to myself, angry but unable to change his mind.
The tents were calling. I could hear the clamor, the desperate shuffling of people eager to sign up, to be part of something that promised power, revenge, something bigger than themselves.
I shoved past the last few people and headed for the closest recruitment tent, my stomach twisting with both fear and excitement.
A man in silver armor looked down at me as I approached, a raised eyebrow and a suspicious look in his eyes. "You sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and gruff. "You don't look like you can even hold a sword, kid."
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as I could muster. "You need soldiers, right? Someone has to fill those gaps. Might as well be me."
He snorted, his lips twitching in something like amusement. "Cannon fodder, huh? You really think you've got what it takes?"
"Whether I'm cannon fodder or not will depend on your 'legendary' training," I said, folding my arms and standing taller.
The man stared at me for a long moment, then suddenly burst into laughter, the sound rough and loud in the otherwise silent tent.
"You're the idiot of your family, aren't you?" he bellowed, doubling over in laughter.
I didn't smile. "I don't have a family."
The laughter stopped immediately, like a light had been turned off. His expression faltered, then softened with a quiet apology. "Sorry. Didn't mean to…" he trailed off, then cleared his throat. "Right, well. Let's get you signed up."
He pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to me. "This is a talisman. Think of it as a trump card. You'll need it when we head out. Where we're going, it's not going to be pretty."
I stared at the parchment, confused. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Tear it," he said, a smirk creeping onto his face as he turned away. "And you'll find out."
I took a step forward, ready to rip the paper in half, but he rapped me on the head with a gauntleted hand before I could.
"Not yet, idiot. We've got a long way to go before that."