Zenithar – Industrial Sector
6 December 1077 – 04:49 PM
The Mapping Device
It was among the most advanced technologies ever developed for territorial surveillance.
Once activated, it scanned an area spanning several kilometers in real-time, generating a detailed three-dimensional map: buildings, tunnels, alleyways—even hidden security systems.
But to achieve accurate results, the software needed to process and synchronize data gathered from multiple reconnaissance drones. Depending on the complexity of the area analyzed, this process could take hours.
For Raiga and Liara, that waiting time meant just one thing: free time.
And although most of Zenithar was a hellscape of iron and smoke, there were still places that retained a shadow of normality.
One of these was the main promenade of the harbor.
Zenithar - Harbor Promenade - 17:40
The salty air was thick with scents: the sea's brine, fragrant spices, and the aroma of street food sizzling on vendors' grills.
The promenade was bustling. Families, merchants, and children darted among alleyways illuminated by the glow of sunset. Ocean waves shimmered with the final golden rays of the sun, gently rocking the sails of moored boats.
For a moment, Zenithar felt like another world entirely.
Raiga and Liara walked side by side, their pace relaxed—a rare occurrence for them.
Liara's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she eagerly studied every shop window with childlike enthusiasm.
"Mmmh… These shops are amazing!" she exclaimed, delighted. "Ooh! Those look so delicious!"
She stopped abruptly in front of a pastry shop, pressing her hands against the glass, mesmerized by rows of soft pastries dusted with powdered sugar and cream.
Beside her, Raiga strolled with his hands in his pockets, his usual bored expression in place. Yet despite his stoic face, something about him seemed calmer, more at ease.
The tension from the past few days had melted away.
At least for now.
After a few moments, without taking her eyes off the sweets, Liara heard Raiga's calm voice beside her.
"Why don't you just buy them?"
Liara made a face. "Mmmh… no, the line's too long."
She turned toward him, crossing her arms. "Speaking of… what are we having for dinner tonight?"
Raiga simply shrugged. "Whatever you want."
"Ugh, can't you ever help me decide anything? You're infuriating!" she snapped, pointing an accusing finger at him.
Raiga raised an eyebrow impassively, then turned and gave a slight nod. "Come on, let's go."
Liara stared at him, mouth half-open.
"HUH?! BUT—Wait! Don't just walk away while I'm talking to you!"
Raiga continued walking, indifferent, as Liara chased after him with annoyed steps and a comically indignant expression on her face.
For a brief moment, they seemed like two ordinary teenagers.
The crowd flowed around them, oblivious to everything happening beyond that small pocket of normality.
But the illusion shattered in an instant.
Across the street, an elderly man was shoved roughly from a small shop. He fell to the ground, his few possessions scattering across the asphalt.
"Get out of here, heretic!" the shopkeeper snarled, his face flushed crimson with anger.
People around stopped to watch, but no one intervened. Some whispered among themselves, while others nodded in silent approval.
Quietly, the old man picked up his belongings, eyes lowered, and stumbled away with unsteady steps.
Raiga and Liara watched without saying a word. Then they resumed walking.
"What happened?" Liara asked softly.
"The usual," Raiga replied impassively.
The Cult of the Church
Liara glanced around. The incident had already faded from the minds of the crowd.
"They're driving more people out lately."
Raiga nodded. "Their faithful are increasing."
Liara lowered her eyes. "Yeah."
After a brief silence, she continued:
"The Cult of Eternity… They control everything now. Before the monarchy fell, they were powerful, sure—but now they're everywhere."
Raiga remained silent.
"Every sermon they preach tells the same story: the world was destroyed by the Demon over a thousand years ago, and only the Eternal Light can guide us down the right path. Anything outside their truth is branded as a dangerous lie."
"They're not wrong about that," Raiga said quietly.
Liara looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"To them, there's no such thing as truth. There's only control."
Liara sighed. "Exactly. They don't want people to think, to ask questions. If you even wonder if history went differently from how they tell it, you're branded a heretic."
Raiga grimaced. "And heretics must be eliminated."
Liara nodded slowly. "Before, they were content with discrediting them. Now, they hunt them like animals."
The sunlight reflected off the Cult's symbol, emblazoned above a towering building—a golden circle with a blazing sun at its center.
"And the worst part is, the people follow them willingly."
Raiga's expression didn't waver.
"Fear breeds obedience."
Liara ran a hand through her hair. "It's not just fear. Many truly believe those stories."
Raiga glanced sideways at her. "It's easier to believe a lie than to accept chaos."
Liara fell silent. His words were true.
And that truth was terrifying.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. The harbor, illuminated by the day's last rays, seemed like a painting suspended between reality and a distant dream.
Raiga and Liara sat down on a bench right at the edge of the promenade.
The sea stretched out before them—vast, calm, indifferent to everything happening in the world.
Liara curled up slightly, hugging her knees to her chest. She was exhausted—not physically, but deep inside.
Raiga remained silent beside her, his gaze fixed on the water.
For a moment, only the sound of waves accompanied them.
Then Liara glanced at him, speaking softly.
"They're not satisfied with just controlling the present. They're erasing the past. They rewrite history. Destroy documents, burn books, eliminate anyone with different ideas."
Liara lowered her gaze, her hands gripping her knees tightly.
"Just like they did with us."
Raiga said nothing, but his eyes, fixed on the horizon, darkened slightly.
"Our past was erased too. Wolven is gone. No one remembers its name, as if it never existed."
The wind gently lifted Liara's hair, yet she remained still.
"We're the only ones who remember. But what's the point, if we've become like this?"
A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of waves.
Liara hunched her shoulders, lowering her head.
"Raiga, you're different."
Liara turned fully toward him, gathering every ounce of courage she had.
"You're strong. Too strong. And I know even you don't understand why."
Raiga didn't move, but his gaze hardened slightly. An imperceptible tremor passed through his eyes.
A shadow.
Not the fear of an enemy.
Not the fear of dying.
But the fear of not knowing who he truly was.
Liara then shook her head with a tired smile.
"I need you to stay with me, Raiga. What the hell am I supposed to do without you?"
She paused.
"You can't die. You can't get captured. Do you understand?"
Her tone was playful, but her eyes were serious, sincere.
Liara became serious again.
"And I never want to see that expression on your face again."
Raiga remained silent.
Liara looked away, as if it hurt her to meet his eyes.
"I couldn't even look at you last night. You went too far."
Liara took a deep breath.
"I know we're not children anymore, and circumstances force us to fight, but I feel like we're changing too quickly, Raiga…"
She hesitated. Then she looked him straight in the eyes.
"Do you think Uncle Ralph and my father would be proud of what we've become?"
Her words hit Raiga like a blow straight to the chest.
Memories surged back uncontrollably.
A small mountain village.
Dirt roads. The scent of warm bread blending with the fresh morning air. The laughter of children at play.
Wolven.
His grandfather Ralph's bakery. Liara's father's clinic. It had been a small, simple world.
And then… the war.
Nine years ago. The final battle between Yuron and Delpharis.
The village of Wolven had found itself caught between two armies.
The large mountain to the south of Yuron was a perfect strategic point for Yuron's forces.
The soldiers moved in. They used the houses as shelters, the shops as warehouses, the streets as barricades.
Then came the bombings.
Explosions tore the earth apart.
Buildings collapsed like paper castles.
People ran, screaming.
Raiga didn't remember the sound of his grandfather's voice that day. Only the crackling fire devouring the bakery, the acrid scent of burning wood, the ash choking the air.
Liara couldn't remember her father's last words. Only the sight of his body buried beneath the rubble of their home.
The village was erased.
The houses. The streets. The people.
Only the two of them remained.
Raiga clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
Rage burned inside him, too powerful to suppress.
"Their lives must be avenged."
His voice was hard, cold, trembling with deep anger.
Liara turned toward him, startled by the intensity of his tone.
"They didn't deserve to die," he continued. "Every life I lost that day is worth a hundred of those damned government soldiers."
Liara stiffened.
"I'll make them feel the same terror my grandfather and your father felt. Worse, if I can."
His eyes were cold, unyielding.
Liara stared at him, her lips trembling slightly.
Then she lowered her gaze.
"…It'll never end, will it?"
Raiga didn't answer immediately.
His fingers twitched slightly. Then, without looking at her, he stood up.
"Come on. Garret's waiting for us."
Liara wiped away tears with the back of her hand.
She remained seated for a few moments, her heart heavy.
Then she stood and followed him quietly.