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It had been a while since Aria started staying with me. Mornings were almost always filled with bickering—arguments over space, food, or some ridiculous habit of hers. But somehow, by lunch, the arguments would fade, and we'd go back to normal. In one of those calmer moments, she finally shared her real objective: to steal a critical document from a TG hideout. She'd done it before, successfully retrieving three important files, though two turned out to be fakes. TG was notorious for setting traps with fake intel to draw Soldiers out of hiding, and she wasn't about to fall for it again.
Aria had also opened up about her lifestyle—nomadic, constantly on the move with no place to call home. She, like so many other Soldiers, couldn't afford to be tied to one place for long. Exposure meant danger. Once a Soldier's identity was revealed, their life was effectively over. So, we wore masks—ghosts in our own world. Some Soldiers wore animal masks; mine was simple, designed to be plain yet mysterious. Top Soldiers even earned nicknames based on their reputations. Aria explained all this to me, including the stories behind a few of these legendary figures.
One was the "Grim Lady" from the Wolf clan, known for destroying four TG bases in a single month. She was a ghost herself now, her whereabouts unknown. The second was "Bear Killer" from Fdui—my uncle. Apparently, in his prime, he was unmatched in strength and speed, though he'd once been defeated by a TSpider… a loss that somehow led to their unlikely friendship. That part was just rumor, according to Aria, but it explained why he always respected the TSpider.
Her parents, too, were TSpider Soldiers. Ordinary, she said, though she still didn't know the truth about their deaths. She'd never seen their bodies, and that lingering mystery haunted her.
As I stared at my own weapon, noticing it was overdue for maintenance, I glanced over at Aria. "You should really carry a proper weapon. Not just a short knife or whatever. A gun will make noise, sure, but sometimes you have to."
She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, right. And where exactly are we supposed to get a weapon like that?"
I smirked. "We can make one."
She scoffed. "How, exactly?"
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4/6
Aria blinked in disbelief, taking in the scene before her—a vast, hidden underground palace built for Soldiers. Food stalls, weapon shops, and countless other necessities filled the space. The hustle and bustle were a world apart from the war-torn, desolate streets above. I nudged her to put on her mask, which only covered her eyes. It wasn't much, but it would do.
"W-What is this place?" she stammered, her gaze darting around, wide with shock. "It's so… huge! And there are so many Soldiers here! What if TG is around? We should go, now!" Panic edged her voice as she looked around, clearly unnerved.
Grabbing her hand, I gently pulled her forward. "Relax. I know it's overwhelming the first time. Let me explain." I waited for her eyes to meet mine, amused at her expression of pure bewilderment. "This is the Bernia Safe Zone."
Her face scrunched in confusion. I held back a laugh—it was a little funny seeing her like this. "Bernia Safe Zone is one of several havens for Soldiers. When TG attacked years ago, twelve legendary builders united to create these hidden strongholds. There are about eight of them scattered across the continent. TG agents, and even traitors among Soldiers, can't find this place. It's undetectable."
She seemed to calm down, nodding as she absorbed the information. "I see… So we're really safe here?"
I nodded, smiling behind my mask. "Yeah. It's like heaven for Soldiers." She looked intrigued, almost excited. Maybe this glimpse of a safe life would help her relax, even if just a little.
We spent the day gathering supplies, getting her a better weapon, and resting. As we sat down to eat, I noticed her hand pressed against her stomach.
"Your wound—is it healing alright?" I asked, nodding toward her hand.
She scoffed, though a slight smirk tugged at her lips. "Oh, throbbing a bit. Who knew Mr. Pervert could show a little concern?" she teased, her eyes narrowing playfully.
I shrugged off her jab, then realized something. We didn't know each other's codenames. "What's your code name?" I asked, just as she said the same thing.
"Bright," she said, looking a little embarrassed. Bright—an unusual nickname, but somehow it suited her.
"Mine's Ghoul," I replied, proud of the name, but she burst into laughter, unable to contain herself.
"Ghoul? Really? What, because you're the walking dead?" she managed between laughs, her face turning red as she doubled over, clutching her stomach.
I clenched my fists, fighting back the urge to punch her in her still-healing stomach. Just one punch
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4/6
"Here," I said, holding the door open for Aria. Above the door, a sign read Joe Blacksmith. Inside, we could see the immense shadow of someone hammering a glowing-hot weapon with loud, rhythmic thumps. Aria's eyes widened in admiration as she watched the shadow's every move.
"Your first time at a blacksmith's?" I asked, noticing her awe.
She snapped back, adjusting her posture. "It is. Is there a problem, Mr. Ghoul?" She emphasized my codename with a smirk, which only confirmed my suspicions—most of her weapons had likely been looted or stolen.
"Hello, Mr. Joe! We're here to craft a new weapon," I called out.
The hammering stopped. The shadow moved, shrinking as the figure stepped out to greet us. Aria's jaw dropped as the blacksmith, Joe, came into view—a tall, muscular woman, her face streaked with soot and her eyes sharp and confident.
"A girl—" Aria stammered, clearly surprised.
"Joe! Long time no see!" I grinned, reaching out to shake her hand.
"Hey, Ghoul! Who's this girl, your wife?" Joe smirked, glancing at Aria with playful curiosity.
Aria instantly bristled, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "I am not his wife! Who'd want to marry him? I bet even a woman with the lowest standards wouldn't like him," she said, each word stabbing a little harder than the last.
"Anyway," I said, regaining my composure, "I need you to help her customize a weapon. Just let her describe what she wants, and I'll cover the cost."
Joe nodded, beckoning Aria into her office to go over the details. It took nearly three hours for them to design the weapon. When they emerged, they were both laughing like old friends.
"So you can really do that, huh?" Aria was saying, her face alight with excitement. "Let's make it top quality!"
Joe chuckled, patting her on the back. "You got it! It'll take a while—how does two months sound?"
Aria nodded, satisfied. After finalizing everything, we headed out and grabbed dinner at one of the safe zone's food stalls.
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When we arrived home, my curiosity got the best of me. "So, what did you ask her to make?" I asked as Aria was preparing to go to sleep.
"A scythe," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Easy to carry, compact, and razor-sharp—made out of the highest quality material, of course." She batted her lashes mockingly, adding, "You're paying, right? I've got noooo money to spare. Is that okay?"
I rolled my eyes. It wasn't a big deal—I had more than enough money saved up to live comfortably, even buy myself a few luxuries. "Alright," I agreed, my tone shifting to one of seriousness, "but under one condition."
Her expression shifted to mild interest as she looked over at me, waiting for whatever catch I had up my sleeve.
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