Humanity prides itself on what it calls conscience — that supposed spark that lifts it above the beasts, that makes it create laws, uphold moralities, and build civilizations. But what a convenient farce. A golden mask to hide the rotting face of vanity.
They speak of justice with a blade hidden behind the backs of those who trust them. They defend order — until chaos suits them. They raise their voices in the name of the law, yet whisper in alleys and palaces: "Laws were made to be broken."
Ezra Ashenguard had long since memorized this theater. He'd seen the stages and curtains. He knew the actors, the backstage, and the fake applause. He'd stood in courtrooms where innocence was caged while guilt danced free, sustained by promises and coins.
He had walked among temples where faith was currency, and every stab in the back was seen as spiritual ascension. He had passed through golden halls where nobles toasted to equality while crushing necks under their polished boots.
Hypocrisy. Painted as civilization.
Yet amid the rot, something endured. A truth not written on scrolls or shouted from pulpits. Something older than kings, firmer than dogma. A single law — the only one that never fails.
The world, if listened to in silence, still whispered it:
"Effort is always rewarded."
"The just will be treated justly."
Ezra lived by that law. Not by imposition, but by conviction. He was noble by birth, but not by behavior. He had few gifts, but he compensated for every weakness with tireless effort. He smiled with sincerity, helped however he could, and raged at injustice as if it wounded him personally.
Deep down, he believed — with all his soul — that not every truth needs a throne. Some just need to be lived. And for that reason, he pressed on. Against everything. Against everyone.
After all, though humanity was hypocritical, it was still beautiful. Though his family was stern, they still loved him. Though cold nights came, stars still lit the sky. And sooner or later, the sun always returned to warm the skin.
Ezra knew that generalizing was a trap. Not everyone was wicked, not everyone was good. Just as not every day was dark. And if there was one thing time always proved… it was that, in the end, every effort finds its reward.
And today… today was one of those days.
The day when Ezra knew — with the silent certainty only the just carry in their chest — that the years of struggle had not been in vain.
He remembered everything that had brought him there.
How once he had been hailed as a genius, how they had taken pride in him, how they said they loved him.
How it all changed once they noticed his frail body. How their gazes grew distant when they saw he couldn't grasp what even the simplest could understand.
The long years of study, the solitary research, the constant effort against a body that refused to cooperate.
Days and nights molding himself in silence, sculpting every fragment of his being while the gifted were celebrated as prodigies and the children of talent gleamed beneath applause.
And he — always in the shadows.
Always watching.
Always persisting.
He also remembered that morning.
How he had awoken with a light heart in his opulent quarters, running through the manor gardens, greeted by servants with genuine enthusiasm.
The abundant table, the smiles of his gathered family, especially his grandfather, the gratitude and hope with which he savored breakfast.
But above all, he remembered how now he stood there — before something that could change everything.
Before something that would make even geniuses bow their heads.
Something that would force the highest echelons to speak his name with respect.
Because he had found it.
He had reached where few dared to imagine.
Ezra's hands trembled, not with fear, but with recognition. Before him rose a colossal gate — ancient, mysterious, almost alive. It was covered in ever-shifting inscriptions, in a language Ezra couldn't decipher.
And now… it was time to cross it.
"What's the problem?"
Ezra felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder and recognized the voice before he even turned his head.
"Bastian!" He blinked a few times, as if waking from a dream. "I just... can't believe it."
"Well, believe it. Because it's happening." Bastian grinned wide as always, his blue eyes gleaming in the morning light. His reddish hair, cropped close to the scalp, seemed almost golden under the sun's reflection. He was the kind of guy who walked like he carried the world on his shoulders — and never complained about it.
"You don't have to believe it alone. We're all here," said Beatriz, appearing beside her brother. Her long hair, tied in a firm braid, swayed in the wind. She crossed her arms with that practical look she always used when trying to hide she was emotional. "And honestly... congratulations, Ezra."
Others began to approach.
"I still think this is all a trap," muttered Dorian, adjusting his glasses as he scrutinized the gate with an almost paranoid gaze. "But if it is, at least we'll die making history."
"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine," Lena Beatriz Best friend, quipped, nudging his shoulder with her elbow. "Try smiling a bit, gloomy librarian."
"It's the fucking Gate of Order. I just think it's wise—"
"You think too much," Kael interrupted, with his usual carefree tone. He whistled softly, twirling a dagger between his fingers as if they weren't about to face the unknown. "But hey, someone's gotta be the skeptic of the group."
"Skeptics don't usually survive in legends," commented Mei Lin with a calm smile. Her upright posture and ceremonial cloak spoke of discipline — but the gleam in her eyes betrayed the curiosity of someone yearning for something beyond routine.
"You all talk too much." The last to speak was Nyra, leaning against a rock with her arms crossed. Her hood obscured half her face, but the husky, steady voice was unmistakable. "Let's get on with it."
"Easy, Nyra," said Rurik, the group's gentle giant, with a muffled chuckle. He carried a massive axe on his back as if it were a toy. "Let Ezra have his moment. He's earned it."
Ezra looked around, his chest warming. There they were: so different, so unique — and yet all united by something that had started with one of his wild theories and an almost naïve obsession with justice.
The Gate of Order marked the end of a puzzle Ezra had spent years solving. He had been incapable, weak even — but he was a genius when it came to finding things and unraveling mysteries. After all, what kind of power does it take to use your brain?
Ezra was anxious, not just for having uncovered something that almost no one had managed in recent years, not for being on a journey with his long-time friends — but because, finally, he could become extraordinary.
"Hey, we got this far because you believed in me. That's more than I could've ever asked for."
"And now we're going through this gate in style," said Bastian, smirking. "But only after I mess up your hair."
"Don't even try!" Ezra dodged, laughing.
The whole group joined in the laughter. For a moment, fear stepped back. The gate seemed less cold. And the world, less heavy.
But the next step — that would change everything.
"Time to become legends!" Ezra declared, stepping up to the gate and pushing it with both hands, full of determination.
Nothing happened.
Heh... Ezra chuckled nervously, still holding onto the gate. "Bastian? Rurik? A little help, maybe?"
Bastian was already on his way, wearing the grin of someone who had seen this coming. "Knew it'd fall to me."
"Two walls reporting in," said Rurik, stepping beside him like he was about to open a barn door.
From the back, Nyra crossed her arms and let out a mischievous chuckle. "That's what you get for playing the shiny-cape hero."
Thud. Beatriz walked past her in silence, brushing the archer's shoulder with hers.
"Hey! It was just a joke," Nyra protested, feigning offense.
"You earned it," commented Mei Lin, impassive as she walked past.
"Dorian, Kael, how about some help?" Bastian echoed Ezra's earlier words, but with a teasing tone.
The two looked at each other. Dorian sighed, adjusting his glasses, and Kael shrugged before joining the others. Even with five of them pushing the gate — the two strongest up front — it didn't budge an inch.
Later, the four women decided to try as well. Together, they pushed with all their strength… but the gate remained unmoved.
"Fuck!" Bastian was the first to lose his patience, stepping back to give the structure a hard kick.
"Kicking the gate won't solve anything," Lena remarked, leaning against a pillar with her arms crossed.
"I agree with Bastian. This is getting annoying," muttered Dorian, taking off his glasses to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
"Ezra, Mei Lin," called Beatriz, her voice firm as ever, casting a look between the two. "Any clues?"
"If they'd found something, they'd have said it already," Nyra cut in, impatient.
Beatriz frowned. Her temper — only slightly calmer than her brother's — wouldn't let that slide.
"Got a problem, Nyra?"
"No. Got a problem, Beatriz?" Nyra shot back, her tone hard, gaze sharp.
The tension thickened.
"Hey, hey, ladies!" a new voice chimed in from behind the group. "I step out for five minutes to take a piss and you're already fighting over me?"
The young man who appeared had long, messy hair and mocking green eyes. Edward, the last member of the group, approached with a teasing grin.
"Edward, seriously, don't start—" Kael tried to intervene, but was quickly cut off, as usual.
"Now seriously: what happened for two mortal warriors to start trying to kill each other over me? I'm flattered, honestly."
"Shut the fuck up, you goddamn narcissist!" Beatriz and Nyra shouted in unison.
A brief silence fell over the group — half surprised, half embarrassed — until Kael let out a muffled laugh. Lena followed with a subtle smile, and even Rurik, ever restrained, had to turn his face to hide a chuckle.
Then came the scream — like a thunderclap.
"FUCK!"
Ezra and Mei Lin's simultaneous voice sliced through the air like a blade, cutting the lightness of the moment as if something serious — urgent — had just occurred.
In seconds, the group rushed to the other side of the gate. The mood shifted. The laughter died.
The gate wasn't attached to anything. No structure held it. It simply existed there, suspended — a boundary between two worlds, solid, imposing, surrounded by nothing but wind and dust. Which allowed the group to observe it from both sides.
Kael was the first to arrive. "What the hell is going on?"
"Give me the dagger. Now." Ezra's voice came out harsh, with no room for debate.
Kael furrowed his brow, bothered by the tone, but tossed the dagger anyway.
Ezra caught it mid-air and, without hesitation, sliced Mei Lin's palm with it. The cut was precise, clean, and blood dripped red over her fingers, falling in quiet drops onto the dry stone floor.
"Ezra, what the fuck are you doing?" Nyra yelled, moving forward, but Beatriz stopped her with a sharp gesture.
"Nyra, silence!" Ezra's voice sounded different — rigid, impersonal, almost cold. "Quickly, everyone, do the same. Now. I don't have time to explain."
For a moment, no one moved. The command was absurd, jarring. But then Mei Lin, eyes still closed, nodded subtly.
Bastian was the first to follow. "If Ez is this serious... I trust him."
He sliced his own palm with the dagger and stood beside Mei Lin, his blood dripping freely.
Nyra and Lena, however, remained still. Both narrowed their eyes. Reluctant wasn't enough to describe them.
"Are you insane? This makes no sense!" Lena exclaimed.
"I'm not opening a vein just because he snapped," Nyra retorted, staring at Ezra like he was a stranger.
That's when Kael, without ceremony, grabbed the dagger again and, with a swift motion, sliced both of their palms at once.
"Ow, you bastard!" they screamed in unison.
"Now everyone's even. Done. Let's go." He smiled, but tension flickered in his eyes.
Ezra took a deep breath, clutching his own bleeding hand. "Everyone, now. Put your hands on the gate."
The ten of them reached forward, blood streaming from their fingers, dripping onto the dry ground — which now seemed to pulse with its own life. The air around them trembled, thick, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
The gate, silent until then, began to emit a low, deep sound — like a forgotten whisper rising from the earth's core. It wasn't noise — it was language. Something far too ancient to understand, but powerful enough to feel.
The metal didn't move with force. It moved with purpose.
Red light flared from the marks left by the blood, running along the edges of the gate like awakening veins. And then — with no warning, no explosion — the world swallowed them whole.
All ten vanished.
The gate, with them, was gone — as if it had never existed.
And in the place where they once stood, only silence remained…
and the echo of something that had just begun.