The craft hovered above the forest, retreating toward where it had come from. Below, the deep green canopy slowly lost its color as they flew on, the further they went, the more the land darkened, as if the world itself knew what lay at the end of their path.
"And... sent." Marcus exhaled. "It’s done. I reported it - mission success. Both of us in custody, alive."
Ethan gave a slow nod, his finger still pressed against the back of the captain’s head. Sweat beaded along the man’s temple, and the faint crackle of electricity at his spine kept him rigid at the helm, steering the airship toward their base.
"Pretty smart for a pair of young lads," the captain muttered. "And also very dumb."
Marcus scoffed, the corner of his mouth curling. "I can see the sweat, old man. Stop provoking us and just fly."
The captain swallowed. "If you were truly smart, you would have made me send the report in my own voice. I’m a coward by nature - I wouldn’t think twice about following your orders if you pushed me."
"This isn’t a confession," Ethan said, pressing slightly - just enough for a sharp jolt. "We know what we’re doing. Don’t forget, we worked here too. We know the empire is stretched so thin that details like this slip right through."
"Very, very easily."
The captain fell quiet, the words landing like a blade. He knew they were right. No soldier, no man or woman in the empire, was brave enough to face it head-on. The white-haired boy had known that - and had counted on it.
Ethan. He turned the name over in his mind. Wait... that Ethan? The one who placed first in every sport, every academic competition, the golden boy of the corps? Why would he throw all of that away?
The captain eased the ship’s course. "Ethan and Marcus," he said quietly. "The golden boy and the silver bastard. After everything the empire gave you - the rank, the recognition, the future - what made you turn?"
"We don’t know," Ethan replied. "And we don’t care. The empire bared its fangs. We’re not going to wait until they sink deeper."
The captain let out a long breath and pushed the throttle forward. Something stirred in him - not quite dread, not quite hope. Just a feeling. A quiet, nameless feeling.
No. That’s impossible. The Roman Empire always wins. It always has.
He shook the thought away and thrust the engine higher. Gradually, the forest disappeared beneath them, replaced by dark mud flats and makeshift roads stretching in all directions.
"It’s only been two days and they’ve already covered this much ground," Marcus said, watching the soldiers moving below, the heavy vehicles rolling along in columns, the sprawling camp that had grown, in just days, into something that looked more like a city.
"The Roman Empire sits at the pinnacle of ingenuity," the captain said. "In military, in science, in magic, in divinity - we lead in all of it. So I’ll say it again: stop this. Both of you are bright. You still have a future."
"Shut the hell up," Marcus said flatly.
Ethan caught it - the raw defiance burning behind his friend’s eyes. But even as he watched, something nagged at the back of his mind.
Why? Why had Marcus walked away from it all? The captain was right about one thing: Marcus could have thrived in the empire. He could have risen, flourished, climbed as high as he wanted. The empire rewarded the strong - that wasn’t a lie.
But he had thrown it all away. And Ethan didn’t know why.
He wanted to ask. But there was no time. The ship was already descending, and all he could do was trust his rival - his friend - the one who had once been ready to kill him, and hope the feeling was mutual.
"You good?" Marcus asked, a hand briefly on Ethan’s shoulder.
"Y... yeah," Ethan replied. "Ready?"
"It’s a suicide mission," Marcus said with a quiet smile, "but yeah. I’m ready."
He patted Ethan’s shoulder once, then turned to the captain. "Let’s go, old man." He clicked a collar around the captain’s neck - the same kind that had been used on the monster, back when Marcus had been hunting for Ethan.
They cuffed themselves loosely and let the captain walk ahead. The man rolled his neck, swallowed, and stepped forward.
Headquarters - Main Office
"Clever," the chief said softly, eyes fixed on the camera feeds.
He sat alone now - no soldiers flanking him, no officers nearby. He straightened his hat, moved the mouse deliberately, and dragged the mission-complete file into the main city’s inbox. He accepted what the report told him: the mission was complete.
He opened a channel to his gatekeepers - soldiers loyal to him, not the empire. His mic clicked. "Begin the procedure."
"Roger."
He watched the camera feeds. The gate opened. The captain walked in first, with Ethan and Marcus behind him, heads bowed, postures slack. Utterly defeated, to any eye watching.
"Ha. They can act. I’ll give them that."
BEEP.
The screen lit up. An incoming call - one he’d been expecting. He pressed the button. Three figures filled the screen, their hats bearing golden insignia that far outranked his own.
"We just received your report," said the one in the center.
The chief removed his hat, baring his grey hair. "Yes, sir. The mission is complete. There was some disruption, but the subject and the disturbance have both been taken into custody."
"Custody?" A pause. "We ordered a direct execution. The prophet indicated high volatility from that individual." His eyes shifted - a deep red flush, the mark of the war god’s blessing.
"It will be done," the chief said evenly. "For the empire."
"For the empire."
The screen went dark.
The chief leaned back. He’d hoped for more time, but they were already breathing down his neck. That meant one thing: there was a spy in his ranks, feeding information upward. He’d have to accelerate.
Still, even compressed, the window was enough. The beacon had arrived - not as a sign or a symbol, but in the flesh of a young man. It had arrived nonetheless.
"You’ll either rise from this place," he said quietly, watching the feed as the captain shoved Ethan and Marcus into the holding cell, "or you’ll die here."
***
Before the cell door closed, Marcus glanced back at the captain - a long, flat look. His hand drifted to his pocket, just enough for the man to notice the outline of the remote.
"One second is all it takes, Captain. You know what has to happen."
The man’s jaw tightened. A bead of sweat traced its way down his temple. He could do it - slip around the corner, flag someone down, get the collar off his neck. Stop feeling like a leashed animal. It would be so easy.
But no one came near him. And before he could act, he was summoned directly to the main office.
I’ll tell the chief myself, he thought, walking away from the cell.
Ethan watched him go. He looked at Marcus. Marcus looked back.
Even with eyes that had shifted from brown to blue, Marcus could still read that expression. The same cold fire. Always the same.
Ethan gave a small shake of his head. Marcus returned it - and pressed the button.
Beep.
The captain felt it first: the slight vibration at his neck. "What? No - they didn’t!" He spun around, hand flying to the collar.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
"No - no! Help -!"
Bang!
And just like that, it was done. Blood and bone scattered across the corridor wall. In the distance, the sounds of shouting rippled outward, spreading fast through the compound.
"Phase one complete," Ethan said quietly. "Let’s begin phase two."