Cerberus HQ Infirmary: 937, January 1st, Tuesday, 8:00 AM.
It was a calm and warm morning at headquarters, and every officer from the combined forces of Cerberus, Hydra, and Chimera continued with their day-to-day activities as usual. Bloodhound’s success in eliminating the corrupted knight known as King remained confidential under the instructions of their leader Arwen Rhys, who chose to hide the fact from his other allies. Keeping the information for himself, and the young woman of name Ivanna, who served as the CEO’s right hand.
Outside of HQ, once a new year began in the continent of Hemel, the Deadlands behavior suddenly shifted into a series of strange anomalies that had caught the attention of all forces guarding it. The crimson fog that had always covered its barren lands suddenly vanished without a trace—allowing easier exploration for military scouts, though even when nothing stood in between them and their search for data about the hellish zone, many reports about squadrons driving in circles began to pile up in the archives—as none could find their way around the isolated desert.
At the infirmary of headquarters, an injured Bloodhound rested their wounds from the intense battle with the supernatural being—King. Thanks to princess Eutychia, Gal and Maulik, they arrived safe and sound at HQ in a matter of hours, where a highly concerned Ivanna waited to receive them. The young woman was quick to provide them with medical assistance, just before reporting their return to the company’s owner.
They were all laid in hospital beds next to each other, feeling the unbearable pain of their sore muscles, broken bones, and torn flesh even after an entire day of rest. Eric’s face was left with small scars due to the fragments of his own blade embedding themselves on his skin, Scott remained mostly unscathed, exhibiting a bruised and broken clavicle thanks to the pressure of his own rifle after every shot. Tori managed to leave the battlefield with only a few cuts and bruises, yet was given instructions to remain in bed just like the others.
Claire had yet to awaken since her fight with the daemon, having the improvised bandages Tori used to cover her wounds replaced by Cerberus’ medics. She breathed through an oxygen mask while having her pulse and heart rate monitored with a machine—which displayed her stable vitals with well-paced beep noises.
“Is she… doing alright?” Asked Eric, resting at the other end of the room. “I can’t see… from here…”
“I think so…” Scott answered, lying on the bed next to the noble. “She did go all out during that fight. I’ll have to give my thanks to the goddess after this, and that’s not something I say often…”
“We are all tired,” Tori told the group, being the closest to Claire’s bed. “You guys should rest too... I… I’m not as injured as all of you after all. Sorry I couldn’t be of much help…”
“Hmph!” Eric scoffed. “Wounds like this… are nothing for a warrior from the emp…”
“Shut up, man…” Scott interrupted him, closing his eyes with a smile. “Feels like it’s been forever since we got to take a break like this... everything hurts… but at least the bed is soft…”
With a happy giggle, Tori covered her mouth at the man’s words, nodding in agreement with his statement. “Scott is right, Eric. We should relax while we…”
“Zzz…”
“Zzzz…”
“Hehe.”
Kingdom of Heildin, Heaven’s Castle: 936, January 1st, Tuesday, 8:00 AM.
“No, no, no, no! My pretty face! Brute! Brute, where are you!”
A desperate Euthemia screamed at the top of her lungs in her own room, she squirmed, jumped, kicked and punched everything she came across, destroying the elegant pink decorations around her chambers. When her fists took a break from breaking the furniture, their fingers ripped the sturdy black scales that grew on the girl’s terrified face, forcing painful cries from her lips with every chunk they tore. Both of her arms mutated to resemble the demonic arms of the specters, exhibiting sharp claws and crimson veins running through the fissures of their exoskeleton.
“Brute! Brute!” she screamed even louder, yet none replied to her pleas.
Tears began to roll down her cheeks, and the princess suddenly snapped at the desperation that consumed her mind. She slammed the door of her room open, and yelled the name of the order’s champion through every hallway. The blonde girl lifted the long skirt of her white dress slightly, running across every hall in search of the gladean knight, but to no avail, as the man failed to show his face just like the rest of her father’s subordinates. Under Loki’s suggestion, she had hidden herself inside her own room while the conflict within the Deadlands transpired—unaware of the events that unfolded during the last day of 936.
“Loki! Please! I’m not playing games with you!” she dropped to her knees, slamming the gleaming floor with her spectral hands. “You said you’d help me! You said you’d help me! Loki! Loki!” Her tears began to drench the floor with every drop, and the princess cried and sobbed desperately among the empty halls of her own home.
Republic of Kaldstein, Hydra CEO’s Office: 936, January 1st, Tuesday, 8:00 AM.
Sitting at his office, with the black and white pencil drawing of a tall woman resting on top of his desk, Boris Levin—owner of the entity know as Hydra, lost himself in the graceful presence of the masked figure drawn by his subordinates, inspired by the words of one of his most experienced generals—Benneth Lee. His old tired eyes inspected the figure carefully, their wrinkles being exposed every time he narrowed his eyes. He rubbed his white beard with one hand, with the other placed near an aromatic candle on his desk.
After his failed plans to eliminate the demons with the Lerna, a powerful missile of massive destruction that was lost within the Deadlands, Boris turned his focus back to an old project he remained passionate about despite its many failures. Since his retirement from the military, his ambitions to create super soldiers that none could defeat stayed with him throughout his path to establish Hydra—bringing the man to recently cooperate with a different entity known as Chimera.
However, having been defeated by the specters, and completely outmatched by the natural talents of the eldest princess of Heildin Eutychia, Boris’ frustrations only grew as nothing could bring him the answers for a perfect warrior.
“…” Despite their age, the tired eyes of the old man were quick to notice the shadow of a small figure that stood in one of the office’s corners—motionless like a statue, and its entire identity hidden behind an intimidating mask with a skull shape. “Who are you, girl?” Boris spoke calmly, concealing the page with the knight’s illustration in a drawer under his desk.
The girl did not reply, approaching the old man with a casual stride instead—keeping both hands concealed behind her back. “…”
“That’s the last step you take towards me…” claimed Boris, leading one hand under his desk while presenting the assassin with a high caliber revolver with the other. “Unless you want to become a pool of blood on my floor… I suggest you leave this instant.”
Exposing one of her hands to him, the assassin lifted a small white card she held between two fingers before flinging the item towards Boris—which gently landed on top of his desk. “…”
In high alert due to the girl’s unknown intentions, the old man did not hesitate in pressing a small button under his desk, which created clanking noises around the office to reveal its weaponized decorations all around. The eyes in some picture frames blinked with a light, emitting red tiny lasers that locked on the assassins’ head, limbs and torso. Although still unsure about his safety, despite the many defenses inside his room, Boris quietly led his eyes towards the white card that the girl had tossed in his direction—one that reveled a surprising message that shook even the experienced CEO.
‘Courtesy of Arwen Rhys,’ the card read.
“…”
“…”
“He paid you to kill me…”
The girl nodded, but did not speak.
“Whatever he paid… I can double…”
The girl shook her head, but did not speak.
“…” The old man narrowed his eyes, and firmly located his finger on the trigger of his pistol. “I can command every weapon inside this office to rip you apart in mere seconds, girl… do you understand that?” he calmly threatened the assassin, but she did not speak, shaking her head slowly instead. “So be it…”
Right after finishing his sentence, determined to not fall to the devious schemes of Cerberus’ owner, Boris pressed the trigger on his pistol, and launched every defensive mechanism in his office against the girl that invaded his space. The old man’s bullet ignited out of the gun’s barrel with a burst of fire, forcing his tired eyes to blink in reaction to its blinding flash—time that his foe would exploit with an instant reaction.
The sound of a bullet breaking the concrete of his office reached Boris’ ears, with the shrieking noises of every turret hidden behind the walls hammering his head like drums. “Ourgh!” a sudden burn settled in his throat, one that forced him to swallow his own blood.
“…” Mere inches away from Hydra’s CEO, having avoided every projectile thrown at her with superhuman speed, the assassin sunk the gleaming steel of her dagger straight into the old man’s neck from behind—its red tainted blade emerging at the front for the old man to see.
Boris drowned in his own blood, as every defense planted in his room was deactivate immediately by the speedy girl’s fingers. He uttered no a single word, and simply plummeted from his chair into the floor, bathing its wooden planks with crimson. In the verge of death, and with nothing to save his life, a second card dropped next to his face—close enough for the old man’s eyes to read its contents.
‘Your company is mine.’
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No… No… No… this… this is all wrong! These… thoughts… this makes no sense… if this was here all along… I should’ve… I should’ve known. This is… this is the one thing… I’ve been missing… this part of me… this… this is how I lost it… Urk! These memories… they aren’t real… it’s all distorted… I know… I know they are… there is no way… there is now way that she... What did you… what did you do… Lionheart?
“Go out with me, Ki-joon.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
This is… this is right… I remember this… the first time I asked Ki-joon out.
“Go out with me, Lionheart.”
“No.”
“How about now?”
“I’m training! Leave me alone…”
This too… I know this is right… I never lost these memories. I always knew there was something special about you, but then… no… it must be wrong… my memories must’ve been… she isn’t… she didn’t…
“Lionheart?”
“Why are you calling?”
“I love you. Did you know that?”
“You…! Forget it… I’m ending the call.”
“Take care!”
“This… is wrong… no! This is right… I remember clearly… but she… no… she didn’t… she wouldn’t…. she wouldn’t dare… not after… not after everything I did… I tried… I tried…
“Sorry I’ve been a little quiet about your father, Lionheart.”
“Hm?”
“No need to play dumb.”
“…Right, sorry.”
“He is doing just fine, if my word counts for something. I keep a close eye on him, and his operations in the Deadlands are planned exclusively by me. Don’t worry too much about him.”
“That only makes me worry more…”
“Have some confidence in your fiancé…”
“Since when are we…! You know what… I have no energy to argue with you. I’m taking Lucy to my room, and don’t you dare show your face anywhere near the female barracks again.”
I did… I did everything…
END OF CHAPTER
