[DAY 1 — Kshatriya Initiation]
The horses galloped at full speed, their nostrils flaring, hooves pounding the earth as they pulled the open carriage down a rough dirt path that was gradually giving way to cracked, overgrown asphalt. Dust and pebbles kicked up around them, stinging their skin and clouding their vision. The wind whipped through their hair and howled in their ears.
They were running from something terrifying.
Two Enders were chasing them. Creatures classified in the archives as Tailsteris. Unlike the towering monstrosities from the old tales, these were only slightly larger than humans. Their heads were encased in something like a helmet—no, a bone mask, shaped like a skull. From within the hollow sockets, piercing lights glowed like twin embers, burning with intelligence and hatred.
They moved on all fours, but not like beasts, more like executioners ready to strike. Instead of hands, their arms ended in thick, blunt appendages. Long, whip-like tails stretched behind them, and at the ends of those tails were massive, blade-shaped extensions, four times the size of any arrowhead. One swing could tear through flesh, wood, or bone.
"Damn it! We're not ready for this fight!" Aaron shouted as he gripped the reins tightly, forcing the horses forward through sheer will. "Corgius, this is your fault!"
"Hey, how was I supposed to know this city echoes like a canyon?!" Corgius barked back from the carriage, clutching the railing as the wheels jolted over broken ground.
Henry sat hunched, his face pale as death. He clasped his hands in prayer.
"We haven't even reached the outpost yet… This is it. My grave. Forgive me, Papa… Mama…"
Aaron gritted his teeth and scanned the rooftops, searching.
Dante was missing.
But then, a voice rang out from above.
"Well done getting them here, everyone!"
They looked up.
Dante stood tall at the edge of a half-collapsed building, his greatsword gleaming on his back. The wind caught his coat, billowing it behind him like the wings of some forgotten knight.
Without hesitation, he leapt.
His descent was swift, a silent promise of steel and violence. He raised the greatsword, aiming the full force of gravity and momentum toward one of the pursuing Tailsteris.
ZRASH!
The sword cleaved into the creature's abdomen with a wet, grinding impact. Black ichor burst from the wound, spraying onto the road and the wheels of the carriage.
The Tailsteris staggered.
But it didn't fall.
It growled low, unnaturally, and straightened its spine with a hiss that reverberated through the street. The hunt was not over yet.
Yumi exhaled sharply, her expression calm but resolute."Aaron. I think we need to stop, now."
"What? Are you serious?! Our goal is the outpost, then—"
But before he could finish, the red-haired girl had already leapt from the carriage. Her coat fluttered as she landed gracefully on the cracked asphalt. Without hesitation, she raised both of her pistols and opened fire on the Tailsteris Dante had ambushed. Muzzle flashes flared like bursts of flame, echoing through the hollow street.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
"Okaaay then!" Corgius shouted from the back. "I'll pull the other one away. Let's go, you pint-sized noble!"
"W-Wait, what—GYAAAH!"
Corgius yanked Henry over the side. The two of them tumbled into a roll, and Henry scrambled to his feet clutching his spear like a man thrust into a dream he couldn't wake from.
"You guys…!"
Aaron growled under his breath, gripping the reins. Every instinct told him to keep moving. That was the plan. Get to the outpost. Survive.
But they were all jumping into the fray.
He clenched his jaw, yanked the reins back—and slammed his foot on the sideboard.
SKRRRRRT—!
The horses skidded sideways in a violent arc, hooves grinding against the asphalt, flinging up sparks and dust. The carriage swung into a perfect spin, tires slicing the ground in a motion.
He pulled the sword from its sheath. "If we're doing this…" Aaron muttered, stepping down from the halted carriage, wind ruffling his cloak, eyes locked on the approaching threat. "…we do it together."
Aaron dashed forward, sword in hand, his voice rising over the thunder of hooves and chaos.
"Corgius! Keep its attention on you! Short-stuff, you and I will strike it down!"
"Aye aye!" Corgius called back with a grin.
"Ugh! This is such a pain!" Henry grumbled, but nodded in agreement.
As they charged, Aaron stole a glance to the side. He saw Dante holding his ground with his massive greatsword, deflecting brutal swipes from the other Tailsteris. Yumi was beside him, her twin pistols lighting up the air with bursts of gunfire. They looked like they had it under control.
His attention snapped back to the second Tailsteris. The beast lunged at Corgius with a sudden whip of its skull-shaped head, aiming to crush him under its weight. Corgius twisted away just in time, though the dodge was clumsy.
Aaron seized the moment. He lunged in from the flank, his blade slicing into the creature's side.
SLASH!
Flesh tore open, not deep, but enough to draw blood and fury. The Tailsteris shrieked in pain and began to spin violently, its long bladed tail carving arcs through the air. Aaron leapt back, barely avoiding the strike—but landed hard on the ground. Dirt and gravel bit into his palms.
Corgius wasn't as lucky—one edge of the tail grazed his cheek, opening a shallow cut before knocking him off his feet.
"Short-stuff!" Aaron shouted.
But the noble was already moving. Gritting his teeth, Henry lunged forward and drove his spear deep into the already torn flesh, widening the gash with a scream.
"ARGHH! DISGUSTING!"
He let go of the spear and scrambled back. Corgius, bloodied but grinning, surged forward. With a roar, he smashed his gauntleted fist into the Ender's chin with an uppercut that cracked bone.
The Tailsteris staggered backward.
"Now!"
Aaron launched forward and plunged his sword into the creature's skull. The blade pierced clean through the helmet-like bone, and the Tailsteris shrieked. A guttural, alien sound that shook the ruins around them. Its body twisted violently, trying to shake him loose.
It succeeded. Aaron was flung through the air and crashed to the ground, wind knocked from his lungs.
But Corgius was already moving.
"On your shoulders, shorty!"
"What?!"
Too late. Corgius had already stepped onto Henry's hunched back and launched himself high into the air. Gauntlet drawn back, he slammed his fist into the hilt of Aaron's sword mid-air, driving it deeper into the Ender's skull with a sickening crunch.
The creature screamed one last time. Its limbs twitched. And then—
Thud.
It collapsed in a heap, lifeless.
Breathing heavy, Aaron pushed himself to his feet, eyes wide.They'd done it. They actually brought one down.
But this… this was just the beginning.
Not far from the slain beast, the roar of steel and the crack of gunfire still echoed through the ruined streets.
Dante grunted as he locked blades with the second Tailsteris. His massive greatsword ground against the Ender's armored head, sparks flying from the friction. The monster shoved him back with a violent lurch, and Dante's boots skidded across the broken rooftop tiles before he caught himself with one knee.
"Still standing, huh?" he muttered, wiping blood from the corner of his lip. "Then let's dance."
From the street below, two precise shots rang out.
Bang! Bang!
The Tailsteris jerked its head to the side, both bullets slamming into its eye sockets—cracks spiderwebbed across the glowing lenses beneath the bone-helmet.
Yumi stood in the open, her stance unshaken, twin pistols held steady. Her long crimson hair flowed in the wind, strands catching the dying sunlight. She exhaled slowly, her eyes cold.
"I've got its sightlines," she called. "Don't hold back."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Dante said with a grin.
He surged forward again. The monster roared and swung its bladed tail toward him, a blinding arc of death. But this time, Dante didn't dodge.
He stepped into it.
The tail slashed across his shoulder, tearing through cloth and skin—but he didn't flinch. Gritting his teeth, he drove his sword up and through the beast's abdomen, lifting it off the rooftop.
The Tailsteris shrieked, limbs thrashing. Its tail whipped wildly, but Dante twisted his blade, severing muscle and bone, then hurled the creature down into the street below.
CRASH!
The impact shattered the concrete.
Yumi was already moving. She dashed across the debris-strewn pavement and unloaded another volley of bullets into the downed Ender's throat. Click-click-click.
The gunfire stopped. Smoke trailed from the barrels.
Dante dropped down beside her, blood dripping from his arm.
The creature gave one last twitch… then went still.
For a few seconds, there was only the sound of wind rustling through the broken city.
Then Dante turned to her with a grin.
"Well, we lived."
Yumi nodded, her voice cool. "Barely."
He looked past her shoulder toward the others in the distance.
"They actually pulled it off too," he said, surprised.
Yumi holstered her pistols. "Guess we're not completely hopeless."
Dante chuckled, then winced as pain finally caught up with him. "Damn. I'm gonna feel this in the morning."
She raised an eyebrow. "Assuming we live to see the morning."
They both looked toward the horizon, where the city stretched endlessly into the ruins of a forgotten age—dark towers silhouetted by the sinking sun.
Aaron, Corgius, and Henry approached the others, their footsteps crunching lightly on broken gravel and earth.
"Ugh… my body aches all over," Aaron groaned, rubbing his shoulder. "That damn Ender really knew how to throw someone."
"Hey, at least you didn't get sliced!" Corgius pointed to the thin gash on his cheek. "Look at this—it's gonna scar!"
"Hah! That tiny scratch? Don't parade that around like a badge of honor, you peasant," Henry scoffed with a dramatic toss of his bangs.
"What was that?! You barely did anything and you still have the nerve to judge me?!"
Their bickering grew louder, until Dante let out a long sigh.
"Both of you, shut it. Your noise is loud enough to wake the dead—literally."
As if on cue, the clatter of wheels and hooves approached from behind. Yumi had circled back with the horse-drawn carriage, now pulling up beside the group.
"Get in. Quickly," she said flatly.
Aaron didn't hesitate. He tossed the map given to him by Grandmaster Gordon onto the carriage seat and climbed in with the others. Corgius and Henry followed, still grumbling at each other under their breath.
Dante, however, paused. He walked to the fallen Tailsteris, gripped its skull-like helm, and with a grunt of effort, ripped the severed head free. He slung it over his shoulder like a grotesque trophy and stepped up onto the carriage.
Aaron blinked. "Where's your carriage?"
"They bolted during the fight," Dante said, shaking his head. "Can't blame them."
Then his gaze settled on Aaron.
"Aaron," he said. "That was a good strategy back there. You held your ground and gave orders when it counted."
Corgius nodded enthusiastically. "Seriously. I didn't think you had it in you to lead like that. What do you think, guys? Should we make him the leader?"
Henry gave an exaggerated flick of his hair. "Hmph. I concur."
"Agreed," Yumi said in her usual even tone.
"I've got no objections," Dante added with a smirk.
Aaron blinked in disbelief. "Oi—are you all seriously deciding this without even asking for my opinion?"
The others simply looked at him, as if the decision had already been made.
Aaron groaned and leaned back in the carriage, muttering to himself, "What the hell did I just get myself into…"
The carriage began to roll forward again, creaking with every bump as it carried them deeper into the unknown.
Their journey after the encounter with the Tailsteris was marked by tense vigilance. Even the horses seemed to sense the danger that still lingered in the air, their hooves tapping the earth with a restless cadence. Not a word was spoken for a long time—only the creaking of worn leather, the soft jingle of metal, and the distant call of scavenger birds filled the silence.
The forest eventually thinned, and the terrain opened into an overgrown clearing choked by moss and vines. There, partially hidden beneath the encroaching wilderness, stood a lone structure.
The party dismounted.
"…Is this the place?" Yumi asked quietly, her crimson eyes narrowed in scrutiny.
Aaron stepped forward, drawing the brittle parchment from inside his tunic. He held the Grandmaster's map against the wind and scanned the lines, the marks, the strange runes only the elders could decipher. Then he looked back at the building. "…No doubt about it. This is it."
"…It doesn't feel right," Corgius muttered behind him, his usual bravado subdued by unease.
"Is this what an outpost is supposed to look like?" Dante asked, his brows drawing close. "It looks… dead."
"It's barely the size of my family's tool shed," Henry scoffed, flipping his hair. "We're supposed to sleep in that?"
Before them loomed a building once sacred—though none of them knew it. Time had stripped it of purpose. The roof sagged in places, and the tall arched windows were shattered, leaving only jagged teeth of colored glass behind. Thick vines clung to the stone like veins, pulsing with the slow, damp breath of rot. The air itself seemed heavier near it, as if the structure exhaled sorrow from every crack.
Most unsettling was the wall, etched with words that neither wind nor rain could erase: "God has abandoned us." The letters bled down the brick like old wounds.
Aaron raised his head slowly, and his gaze fell upon something carved into the stone above the grand doorframe.
"…What's that symbol?" he asked, frowning.
A solitary cross rested at the highest point of the building, worn but untouched by the elements. The stone surrounding it had cracked, but the mark remained—silent and enduring.
"Maybe… people back then liked math?" Corgius said, forcing a chuckle. "Looks like a plus sign to me."
"I wouldn't doubt it," Dante murmured, folding his arms. "The elders used to talk about strange machines that moved without horses. They said they drank fire… or some kind of liquid."
"Machines that move? Really, Dante?" Henry turned to him, aghast. "Next you'll say they had flying houses and talking books."
Yumi didn't respond to the banter. She stepped forward, past the broken gate and over the roots that clawed across the ground like dead fingers.
"If you're so curious," she said over her shoulder, voice cool as always, "then stop speculating. Let's go see for ourselves."
The others hesitated. The doorway stood ajar, swallowed in shadow. No signs, no markings, no banners of the Kshatriya or symbols of Avalon. Only silence. Silence, and a question none of them could articulate.
What was this place, really?
Aaron lingered a moment longer, hand still resting on the hilt of his sword, the map fluttering at his side. He didn't believe in ghosts, but something about this forgotten structure made his skin crawl.
They stepped inside, one by one, boots echoing softly against the cold stone floor. Dust hung in the air like fog, thick with the weight of years unspoken. The smell of rot, aged parchment, and something faintly floral—dried incense, perhaps—clung to the air like a ghost.
The inside was almost untouched by time. Wooden benches were still neatly arranged in rows, though covered in a fine layer of dust and moss in the cracks. At the front of the chamber stood a raised podium carved of dark, heavy wood. Upon it rested a book—its leather-bound cover cracked with age, its golden lettering faded but still legible: "Holy Bible."
Behind it loomed a tall stained glass window, miraculously intact, depicting a woman clad in blue robes and a white veil. Her hands were pressed together in prayer, her gaze sorrowful and kind. Light filtered through the glass, bathing the podium in hues of red, blue, and gold.
"…This looks like a church," Corgius murmured, awe in his voice.
"Maybe it is a church," Dante said, stepping beside him. "But not the kind we have in Avalon. This… feels older. Different."
Yumi moved toward the podium, her footsteps silent as a shadow. She opened the book with cautious hands, pages crinkling as if whispering secrets in a forgotten tongue.
"…This appears to be a church," she confirmed. "But not one dedicated to the Orders of Avalon. The people of the old world… they followed a different faith." Her eyes scanned the text. "This book… it's called a 'Holy Bible.' The language is old but somewhat familiar. The ancients called it 'English.' I've studied fragments of it in linguistic archives, but I'll need time to fully decipher its meaning."
Aaron didn't respond immediately. His eyes were fixed on the stained-glass window. So was Henry's.
"That woman… she looks like a holy mother," Henry said softly, his usual arrogance gone. "Kind. Protective."
Aaron nodded slowly. "Yeah. Like someone who watched over people… even if they forgot her."
The silence returned, but it no longer felt empty. It was contemplative. Reverent. As if the walls themselves remembered prayers once whispered, lives once devoted.
None of them could name her. None could describe the rituals once held in her name. But somehow, they felt her presence—through glass, dust, and silence.
A whisper from the world that came before.