The war horn still echoed in Kael's ears as his boots met the dirt outside the northern gates of Valdoria for the first time as a soldier. The dawn air bit at his cheekbones, carrying the scent of snow that had yet to fall and something sharper, more bitter, like iron heated to its breaking point. Behind him, the gate's torches cast an orange glow over the small line of soldiers moving in tense silence.
Captain Aldric Ironforge's Special Operations Unit was not a massive marching army. It was only four people.
Aldric walked point, his boots pressing into the earth with a constant, unwavering rhythm. The Ironforge Blade was sheathed across his back, its hilt gleaming faintly under the moonlight that had not fully set. The man did not look back, did not check if his subordinates were following. He didn't need to.
To Kael's right walked a woman in absolute silence. Truly without a sound, as if her feet avoided every twig and pebble with a precision learned over years. Her black hair was cut short to her shoulders, and strapped to her back was a long composite bow, its grip worn from use. A thin scar slashed across her left cheekbone, pale beneath the dawn light. Her dark brown eyes were sharp, ceaselessly sweeping the environment like a hawk watching the plains from above.
Reva Ashwind. Aldric had called her the Eagle Eye when he introduced the team last night, and Kael immediately understood why.
To Kael's left, the contrast couldn't be more striking. A massive man, nearly twice the width of Kael's shoulders, strode with a noise that was impossible to ignore. Every step shifted gravel, and his breath plumed thickly in the freezing air. A massive battleaxe was strapped diagonally across his back, and his calloused right hand occasionally stroked the hilt of a heavy shield at his waist. A short reddish beard covered his square jaw, and burn scars stretched along his right arm, the skin puckered and shiny under the dim light.
Gareth Stoneblade. The man had already slipped a piece of hardtack into Kael's hand without being asked when they gathered at the gate earlier, accompanied by a wide grin that was almost absurd amidst the tense atmosphere.
"Eat," Gareth had whispered then, his heavy voice sounding like grinding stones even in a whisper. "First rule on the battlefield, never fight on an empty stomach. Second rule, refer to the first rule."
Kael chewed the bread as he walked. It tasted hard and bland, but the warmth spreading in his stomach reminded him of a bowl of soup Erik had brought him during training nights. Erik. Kael swallowed hard. The Third Battalion had departed for the northwestern border since dawn yesterday, to the ruins of Thornwood. Different place, same battlefield.
"Don't space out."
The voice came from Reva, flat and devoid of emotion, as cold as the air around them. Kael turned his head to find the woman evaluating him.
"I wasn't spacing out," Kael replied.
"Your eyes were blank for the last four steps. On the battlefield, four steps are enough to step on a mine trap or walk into an enemy kill zone." Reva turned her face back to the front. "Save your thoughts about your friends for later. If you're still alive."
Gareth snorted softly from the other side. "Don't listen to her. Reva is always like that. If she speaks more than three sentences at once, it means she's starting to like you."
"I don't like him," Reva said without looking back. "I'm warning him not to die so I don't have to dig a grave."
"See? She already cares about you," Gareth whispered, winking at Kael.
Kael didn't smile, but something in his chest loosened slightly. The dynamic between these two reminded him of something familiar, like the petty bickering of siblings who had lived together too long to ever truly be angry at one another.
They walked through the night and most of the morning, following a trail that veered away from the main road. Aldric deliberately avoided the trade routes, choosing to cut through the sparse forest stretching between Valdoria and the northern borderlands. His reason was simple.
"The last convoy that took the main road didn't reach its destination," Aldric said when they took a brief rest by a small stream, its water crystal clear but freezing cold. "Forty-three escort soldiers and twelve supply wagons. All they found were the burnt frames of the wagons and traces of Dark Aether on the ground."
Kael stared at the river's surface reflecting the gray sky. Forty-three soldiers. Not numbers, not statistics. Forty-three people with faces, names, and families waiting for them to come home.
"Our job is not to counterattack," Aldric continued, his eyes sweeping the tree line across the river. "We are a reconnaissance unit. We move fast, gather intelligence, and return. If we encounter an overwhelming enemy force, we retreat. There is no foolish heroism here. Dying without information is tantamount to betraying Valdoria."
He looked at Kael with a gaze Kael had seen before, a hard look that harbored a concern that would never be spoken in words.
"Do you understand, Kael?"
"I understand, Captain."
Aldric nodded slowly, then stood and brushed the dirt from his trousers. "Good. Gareth, perimeter. Reva, high ground. Fifteen minutes, then we move again."
Gareth swung his axe over his shoulder and walked along the riverbank with heavy steps that contrasted with the vigilance in his eyes. Reva had vanished among the tree branches before Aldric even finished speaking, her movements as swift and silent as a shadow.
Kael sat alone on a rocky bank, feeling the air grow heavier with every kilometer they moved north. Not physically heavy, but something pressing from within, like an invisible pressure compressing his ribs. The Light Aether in his chest vibrated softly, a low hum he had learned to recognize as a warning.
He touched his vest pocket. The Healing Crystal Elara had given him was still there, cold and solid beneath his fingers. Single-use. For the most critical moment.
Make sure you come back to return it.
Kael pulled his hand from his pocket and grasped the hilt of his sword.
By afternoon, the sky had turned into a low, threatening sea of gray. The wind blew from the north, carrying a scent that made the hairs on Kael's neck stand up. Not an ordinary stench of rot, not dead animals or decaying garbage. This was a scent he recognized from his worst nightmares, the smell of burning flesh mixed with rusted metal. The stench of demons.
"Halt," Aldric raised his fist, and the entire unit froze in place.
They stood at the edge of a shallow valley. Below, among the bushes and yellowing trees, splinters of wood and metal were scattered. Kael could see broken wagon wheels, charred pieces of canvas, and among it all, dark patches on the ground that were not ordinary dirt.
The remains of the convoy.
"Reva," Aldric whispered.
"Already on it," Reva's voice came from somewhere above, among the branches. "No movement. But there's something at the northern end of the valley. Footprints, not human. Too large and too deep. Heading towards the dense forest."
Aldric fell silent for several seconds that felt agonizingly long. Kael could see the man's jaw tighten, the muscles in his neck straining.
"We go down," Aldric finally said. "Gareth on point. Kael behind me. Reva, hold position and watch the perimeter. If anything moves from the forest, one warning shot."
They descended the valley slope with cautious steps. Gareth led, his large shield already raised to chest height, axe in his other hand. Kael followed behind Aldric, his steel sword drawn, every muscle in his body tense and alert.
The closer they got to the convoy ruins, the sharper the stench pierced Kael's nose. And the louder the Light Aether in his chest vibrated, a rapid, uncomfortable pulsing, like a second heart beating out of sync.
"Here," Gareth stopped beside a half-overturned wagon. His voice lost all its cheerfulness. "Captain."
Aldric walked closer and stopped. Kael saw his shoulders stiffen.
Kael stepped sideways to see what they were looking at, and his stomach immediately tied in knots.
The air around that spot felt freezing, yet smelled of rotting sulfur. The ground beneath them was no longer mud mixed with gravel, but had hardened and blackened like toxic volcanic ash. The few remaining blades of autumn grass had withered into black dust, as if sucked dry of their original life.
In the center of that dead zone lay a soldier. Or what was left of him. The body still wore the Valdorian uniform, but the skin had turned a blackened gray, as if something from within had burned all its color away. His eyes were open, blank and white without irises, staring at the overcast sky. His mouth hung open in a final scream frozen for eternity.
And on his chest, right in the center, a symbol was carved into his skin. The carved wound didn't bleed, but seeped a thick black liquid that hissed softly upon contact with the air. A symbol Kael had seen in the book Magister Corvus had shown him after the incident at the refugee camp. The emblem of the Noctis Guard.
"They marked their victim," Aldric said in a tightly controlled voice, but Kael could hear something trembling beneath it. Fury. "This isn't just murder. It's a message."
"A message for who?" Kael asked, his voice hoarser than he intended.
"For anyone brave enough to come looking," Reva answered from above, her voice flat but carrying an unspoken weight.
Gareth knelt and closed the soldier's open eyes with his large palm. His lips moved soundlessly, murmuring what looked like a prayer. When he stood, his face held no trace of a grin. All that remained was a tightly clenched jaw and eyes that glinted darkly.
"How many more?" Gareth asked, his voice low.
"Enough that we can't count them now," Aldric replied. He turned to face Kael. "Kael. Use your Light Aether. Slowly. Just enough to detect if there's any active Dark Aether residue in this area. Don't release more than that. You remember what happened the last time you forced it."
Kael nodded. He closed his eyes and let the Light Aether flow from his chest to his palms, not with a forceful push, but the way Darius had taught him, like water finding its own path. A pale golden light appeared at his fingertips, barely visible under the overcast midday sky, but enough to make the air around him slightly warmer.
He felt something. Remnants. Traces of Dark Aether lingering in the soil and the air, like dried ink that hadn't fully faded. The traces formed a pattern, a direction, a flow, as if something massive and dark had moved through this place and left its mark on every surface it touched.
"There's a trail," Kael said, opening his eyes. "Already fading, maybe two or three days old. But the direction is clear. North. Toward the dense forest."
He pulled his Aether back and felt a mild exhaustion creep up his arm. Not as severe as in the Simulation Forest, but enough to remind him that every use had a price.
"Good," Aldric nodded. "We don't follow that trail. Not our job. We have the information we need." He looked at the three of them in turn. "The convoy was attacked by entities with high-tier Dark Aether. The victims were marked with the Noctis Guard emblem. And they're moving north, likely toward Ironhold."
"Or further," Reva added from above, her voice flat like reading a weather report. "This movement pattern isn't a random attack. It's a route. They're clearing a path."
"Clearing a path for what?" Gareth asked.
No one answered. But Kael felt the answer vibrating in his bones, in the memory of the inhuman voice that had once echoed in his head in the Simulation Forest.
Heir of the dawn...
They decided to spend the night in a small cave Reva found on the hillside east of the valley. The cave was narrow, only enough for four people to sit close together, but well-hidden from the sight of whatever might be watching from afar.
Aldric forbade a fire. They ate hardtack and smoked meat in the dark, accompanied only by the sound of the wind howling at the cave mouth and their own breathing.
"Captain," Kael said after a long silence. "The soldier in the valley. The emblem on his chest was the same one Magister Corvus showed me after the incident at the refugee camp. This isn't an ordinary demon faction."
"No," Aldric answered from the darkness. His voice was quieter than usual, almost gentle. "The Noctis Guard is one of the elite castes in the Abyssal hierarchy. They aren't just monsters attacking blindly. They think. They plan. They kill with purpose."
"And their purpose now?" Kael asked.
A long pause. The wind howled louder outside the cave.
"I've been fighting wars for thirty years, Kael," Aldric finally said. "I've seen fortresses fall, cities burn, and better soldiers than me die at the hands of demons. But I've never seen this. They aren't just attacking. They're clearing paths, destroying supplies, and marking victims. This is preparation. They're paving the way for something much larger."
The silence that followed those words felt heavier than the darkness of the cave itself.
"Have you two been with the Captain long?" Kael asked, shifting the conversation in a less tense direction. Not because he wanted to avoid the topic, but because he needed to understand the people who were now his unit.
"Four years," Gareth answered. "I joined after a clearing operation on the eastern border. The Captain saved my life when a swarm of Shadow Drakes attacked me and my squad. Only survivor." His voice didn't change, remaining light, but Kael caught the momentary emptiness between his words. "Since then, I follow wherever he goes."
"Three years," Reva said from the corner of the cave. Her voice almost blended into the darkness. "I won't tell you the reason. Not yet."
"She never tells the reason," Gareth whispered toward Kael. "I've asked seventy-three times."
"Seventy-four," Reva corrected.
Kael felt the corner of his lips twitch. This dynamic was different from barracks life with Erik, Thomas, and Joran. It was sharper, more concise, built upon experience written in blood and sweat, not upon the camaraderie of training days. But there was warmth behind it, hidden behind Reva's sarcasm and Gareth's jokes, the kind of warmth that only emerges between people who have seen each other at their worst and chosen to stay.
"Sleep," Aldric said. "I take first watch. Gareth second. Reva third. Kael, you rest fully tonight. Your Aether channels are still recovering, and tomorrow will be harder."
"I can take a watch," Kael protested.
"That's an order," Aldric cut in. His voice left no room for debate.
Kael swallowed his argument and lay down on the cold, hard cave floor. He pulled the black cloak Darius had given him tighter around his body and closed his eyes.
In the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw the face of the soldier lying in the valley earlier, his mouth open in a silent scream that would haunt Kael's dreams tonight. The emblem on his chest glowed in Kael's imagination, dark and threatening, a symbol of an enemy that was not merely a wild beast, but an intelligence that killed with calculation and purpose.
Kael grasped the hilt of his sword, still strapped to his waist. The steel was cold against his palm, but its presence was comforting.
Tomorrow, they would continue their journey north. Tomorrow, he might have to use this sword not for sparring or friendly duels, but to take a life. Tomorrow, he would find out if his resolve was strong enough to face a reality that couldn't be learned from books or training arenas.
Outside the cave, the wind carried whispers that did not belong to nature. And in the distance, far beyond the forests and hills, a red light flickered on the northern horizon, like a giant eye that never blinked.
— To be continued in Chapter 17 —