«Where am I?».

Drake asks himself that question as he wanders aimlessly through a grassland with vegetation reaching up to his knees, under a sky of gray clouds. Impatiently, he mutters some curse words with annoyance; the crimson warrior has always been an impatient person and can be reckless; he hates having to wait.

Gradually, the field begins to become familiar. Doubts, rather than being answered, increase. In the distance, a village covered in flames, a hell unleashed of torrential black mists like tar. The scent of sulfur seeps into Drake's nostrils, irritating his eyes, and his lungs pushed him to cough uncontrollably.

A freezing cold runs down Drake's spine, paralyzing his entire body, as he realizes what his eyes witness. He can hear the screams of multiple people, ghostly howls that seem to surround him when he is completely alone.

Drake covers his ears trying to drown out the sobs, the cries for help. Desperation slowly overwhelms him, he grits his teeth firmly, invaded by the desire to impose his will and maintain calm.

Suddenly everything calms down, there are no more screams, only the sight of the village consumed by flames, with nothing he can do to change it. The sound of the grass moving behind him sends shivers down the guardian's spine, who swallows hard and slowly turns his head, fearful of encountering something much worse, but when he turns around, he loses his breath in front of that unbelievable sight.

A young woman, appearing to be between twenty-five and thirty years old, slender and tall. The face of an immaculate doll, without any imperfections; fine features: a supernatural beauty with eyes as blue as the ocean. Her hair is pearly white, with several strands cascading over her face, not quite hiding her calm expression.

The girl's attire is an elegant dark blue dress, open on the sides revealing her well-toned legs, dividing the skirt into two folds connected by thin chains acting as fasteners. The dress has a neckline with a black net in the center, the upper part of her ample bust is visible. She wears thick black fabric gloves, segmented into three divisions, with folds resembling five-pointed stars. Around her neck, she wears a small padlock, serving as an accessory on a black choker.

Fearful, yet fascinated, he approaches slowly. A strange sense of nostalgia presses on his chest. He feels like he knows her, yet he can't recall a memory where he identifies her, but there is something about her that is familiar. If he had ever seen a dark celestial, he would remember.

"I'm sorry..." the girl says, her voice filled with sorrow, "...I had to bring you to this place."

Drake doesn't understand at first, until he looks back at the fire fleeing. The expression of horror and confusion gradually turns into one of deep sadness. Anguish tightens the warrior's heart, who knows perfectly the moment of his life that he is witnessing.

"Why are you showing me this?" Drake responds in a tone of bitterness, and somewhat choked up.

"You have to endure the past..."

"What do you mean by...?"

The question doesn't get to complete, the woman's sentence finishes materializing a profane truth. There, in the distance, moving through the grassland, a monstrous figure approaches the guardian's position. It walks upright on two legs, its step collapses in its advance, a being of vaguely anthropomorphic appearance of a corpulent complexion to the point of being inhuman, projecting an abominable shadow. The parts not covered by thick mats of dark fur show a tough skin of purple scales. The head is that of a horned goat, its snout forming a grotesque smile too human, with teeth comparable to those of a lion. It has three yellow eyes, the third one lying in the middle of its forehead, piercing and brimming with malice.

It doesn't utter a word, maintaining that eternal expression of a hybrid between hunger and mockery, focused solely on Drake, whose soul falls at its feet.

The crimson guardian's red eyes emit absolute terror as they become flooded; memories of that fateful day return to him. His legs tremble, making it difficult to maintain a fierce stance, and his fists lack hardness. His heart knots as a cold sweat pours from every pore of his body, and a shiver of terror climbs his spine, causing a series of nausea in his stomach, forcing him to contain retching.

Without giving any mental order, primitive instincts take control of body and soul, summoning thousands of tiny red worms along the guardian's skin, which transform into elongated watery tentacles made of stigma. The vermin envelop the scandalized Drake.

Feeling how those beings meld with him, for a brief moment, terror and sorrow vanish. A surge of courage awakens him, encasing him in the imposing crimson armor, in which burn flaming emerald eyes.

Fighting against fear, Drake goes on guard. He avoids murmuring any words, fearing to break. Trying to take a step forward, he is stopped by a mocking voice resonating in his ears, only that this is the same as the guardian's, speaking to himself, throwing him off balance:

"Will we finally go after them or will you cower again, and run away with your tail between your legs? Dad is no longer with us to protect us, if you don't do it, I will..."

During the distraction, the mist voraciously devours them, leaving the warrior and the maiden no chance of escape. The guardian swore years ago that he wouldn't seek revenge, honoring his father's memory, he would continue with his life, however, it is impossible to live with that remorse knowing that they are still out there.

Blinking, he realizes that he is in a completely different setting. The environment is a desert landscape, with sand rising over ruined buildings, belonging to some civilization lost in time, while the sky is covered with dark clouds dotted with black lightning.

What bewilders the warrior is finding another version of himself as he is currently, far away, turning his back in a totally unknown situation. That version of his is kneeling on the ground. The armor shows traces of battles, cracks, and breaks mostly along its bulk, as if it had been in a beastly fight. Drake slowly approaches the kneeling warrior, followed by the winged girl.

"For you to face the future," the angelic being says ominously.

Upon closer inspection, he witnesses a vision that sends a cold shiver down the warrior's spine. Lying at the feet of that alternate version is a charred corpse, which reaches the limit of unrecognizability, to the extent that its gender cannot be distinguished. Pieces of a blackened armor hang from the body's limbs, which was severed from the waist down, and from the orifice, the entrails spill under a pool of black blood.

As he tries to move away from that horrid sight, the warrior looks up at that other version of himself, and finds no relief; a sharp pain pierces his chest, a discomfort not very different from that produced by the corpse.

The state of that agonizing version has part of the broken mask, and exposes half of a face of total illness, in which tears are shed by the bucketful, as if they had torn a part of themselves. The breaks in the armor reflect traces of combat, lending greater weight to the theory that it was a fight from a distant future.

"What does all this mean?!" Drake turns to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her in desperation. "Who are you and what do you want from me?"

She simply pushes him away gently and shakes her head with closed eyes.

"I only have small premonitions from multiple timelines," the dark one says, "I have no idea what's going to happen or if this is literal or metaphorical. Listen, I don't have much time, my name is Anisha... please remember it next time you hear me, in the song of the crows."

...

The crimson warrior's eyes snap open as his arm is shaken by Alicia, bringing him back to reality. The red warrior, clad in his thick armor without the helmet, sits at the back of a truck with his two companions, being transported to the capital of Lazarus after three weeks of travel from the capital of Trisary. Lance sits beside him, arms crossed and head bowed, sleeping peacefully.

"It was just a dream... one of the many I've had. Don't dwell on it, and do your damn job," Drake thinks, taking a deep breath.

Alicia has a mischievous expression, sporting a malicious smile, which signals trouble to the guardian. Suddenly, the girl puts a finger to Drake's lips, stopping him from speaking.

"Shhh... Lance is asleep... this is our chance," she whispers cautiously, stifling laughter. "Lunatic, I was too—" Drake tries to reply but is silenced as Alicia's gloved hand covers his mouth.

"Shhhhh!" The girl gestures for silence, placing her other finger to her plump lips. "Shut up or I'll stuff a sock in your mouth. Don't you get it? It's our chance to take Lance's mask off, he's fast asleep... he didn't even wake up when I was yelling at you."

Still groggy, Drake cleans his ear with his pinky as he listens, deactivating the gauntlet because the fingers of the crimson armor are sharp-tipped; he is left with his hand bare. Alicia's proposal is too tempting and he ends up being fully awake.

They've never seen Lance's face. Sometimes in the Balsa, they tried to catch him off guard, subduing him between the two of them, attempting to remove the mask; however, Lance was always faster than the both of them combined, or he could manage to escape, leaving the appearance of his face a mystery.

Both of them glance at each other, then turn their attention to Lance. The red guardian succumbs to temptation, sharing a complicit smile with the two guardians. They focus on their sleeping companion.

Lance's attire epitomizes that of a dark assassin from the umbra. He wears a black mask that leaves only his white eyes visible due to a camouflage spell, concealing his facial features. He wears a wolf-like helmet with the clan symbol on the forehead. A black scarf with two trailing tails hangs from his back, with a choker underneath.

On his torso, he wears a dark black breastplate with platinum edges, bulletproof, and a coffee-colored groin protector. He wears a blue suit under the light armor. He has a pair of segmented shoulder pads and elbow pads. Two wrist guards matching the chest plate, protecting up to the knuckles, and black fingerless gloves.

Around his waist, he wears a tactical belt made of leather, in which he carries multiple tools in its pouches, such as throwing weapons, potions, and poisons. He wears a pair of light armor boots of the same color, with knee pads and thigh guards. Resting beside Lance are his two sheathed swords, alongside the luggage of the rest of his companions.

The two boys approach their companion very slowly, intending to remove the mask; Drake reaches out, a drop of sweat sliding from his forehead. In the blink of an eye, Lance grabs his wrist and opens his brown eyes, as if he had never been asleep.

"Don't try to surprise an assassin trained by the eclipse," Lance says with a sigh of annoyance, releasing Drake's wrist. "Didn't I teach you not to try these things? I could have slit your throats on reflex," he says sleepily.

"Why all the mystery with your mask? We've been together for a while now, don't you think it's time to show us your face?" Alice asks, intrigued.

"I have my reasons, I respect the vows I made many years ago... I won't show my face unless it's with my partner," Lance excuses himself.

"Brother... can you let go of me?" Drake speaks with a painful voice, his wrist trapped by the firm grip of the dark assassin.

"Heh, heh, heh, sorry, brother..." With a mocking laugh, Lance releases the crimson warrior. "Don't do it again or I might not be able to hold back next time. You're lucky your armor has a choker."

"I'll keep that in mind..." Drake says with a pained voice, moving his wrist to stop feeling it numb.

"Pfff... party pooper," Alice huffs with boredom, crossing her legs as she accepts defeat, and takes out a small book from one of her belt bags, accompanied by glasses to read. She opens it and starts reading. She wears her thick military green armor, from Free Thought, except with her face uncovered.

"What are you reading, clown?" Drake tries to make conversation to dispel bad thoughts.

"I'm reading a bit about the history of the races of Terra," she gives a quick summary, not taking her eyes off the book. "I just finished the one about dragons. It disturbed me a bit, the fact that they can reproduce both oviparously and viviparously... but it's certainly fascinating."

"Dragons..." a warm feeling fills the warrior's chest as he recalls fond memories related to that imposing race, which he admires greatly. "What chapter are you on now?" Drake is curious and puts his arms behind his head.

"I'm on the chapter about beastmen, it's interesting how this race was created. It was a couple of rituals and boom!" she simulates an explosion, exaggeratedly. "I'm also learning the language of the walking tribes, and elvish."

"I really like that story of how they were formed," Lance says, putting a hand on his chin. "In the wild lands, the witches experimented on the hunter tribes, making them capable of adopting a beast form, allowing them to be more lethal and efficient in campaigns."

"Those animals are crazy," Drake declares with a amused smile.

"That label is very racist, Drake!" Lance startles at that comment, turning to look at him. "Just as you don't like being called damned, don't do the same to others."

"There was a lot of mixing during the conquest," Alicia recounts a summarized passage from her books, perhaps to show off the knowledge she acquired with her friends. "And it's common to see people with animal parts nowadays."

"Some find it attractive to see people with animal parts," Lance speaks in a playful, almost morbid tone, looking at Drake with complicity as if he wanted to say something without mincing words.

"Mmhh... to each their own, as long as they don't bother me, I won't bother them," Drake responds somewhat nervously, averting his gaze a little embarrassed; after all, he has a certain taste for the inhuman.

"But sometimes that ritual goes wrong," Alicia says seriously, drawing the attention of the two guardians. The young woman has a fiery look, as if she's telling the two boys to pay close attention. "If they lose control to the primal instinct, the person would become a monster, causing a curse that can be transmitted... that's how demonic beasts originated."

"Not much different from some cursed ones..." Drake murmurs.

"In my last solo mission, I had a fight with a werewolf on my last mission, they called me to get rid of a creature that roamed the forests. It turned out the beast was the chief of the village; they booed me after that. At least they paid me..." Alice adds an unpleasant personal experience related to the topic. "They whine for us to help them, but many times they don't know how to be grateful."

"As long as they pay me, that's enough for me... the last mission I did was to kill a chimera, the shepherd was behind it... and you can imagine how it ended," Drake adds with displeasure.

"Speaking of strange anecdotes, in contracts on my own, some time ago I went to Valermont near the Verderol forests," Lance intervenes by adding an experience about contracts where they didn't team up. "It was about negotiating with a group of dryads to let some merchants pass."

"Did it turn out that the dryads were the good ones, and the merchants were some damn invaders?" Drake asks rhetorically, with a strong cynical tone.

"No! I managed to make the deal... but they held me for like four days, the only way they'd let me go was if I killed a few demonic beasts lurking around, and of course, I showed them how we have fun in my land..." Lance brings his fingers close to his mouth, pretending to smoke, with a cocky grin, "they paid me very well~ after that... I'd love to go back there sometime." Lance holds his breath, excited.

"Is this a joke?" Alice asks, with a twisted grimace of disgust.

"What? Did I say something wrong? They didn't see my face either, they have no reason to get jealous..."

"You were lucky to come out alive from those lands," Drake adds, "if you had reached the deep part of the forests, it's almost impossible to get out of there, and the worst part is that there are very strange creatures, some still unknown."

"No need to worry. I have experience dealing with that place," Lance replies, sounding confident as if they were talking about a stroll.

Shortly after, Alice returns to focus on her reading. Drake looks out the carriage window and stops to see that they are near the capital of Lazarus. After a few hours, they manage to reach their destination, the city of Phoenix.