To be a Phantom was to accept death. To realize you weren't a hero, but a pawn in a game far larger than you could ever imagine. Far larger than most would grow to believe.
Perhaps hundreds had died on every excursion or counterattack they'd taken against them, or perhaps it was in the thousands. The incomprehensible numbers above wept in twisted satisfaction. How much of humanity would have to die before they gave up? Before they realized the fight was nothing more than meaningless?
They held on to the hollow prospect of everlasting peace. That they could finally be free. That those who had died before wouldn't have in vain. The Phantoms and all who fell under their banner were unwavering in that truth. The truth that if enough of them were killed, both themselves and the ones who tormented them, humanity would be saved.
That morning, however, once the sun had just crept over the distant hills and pierced beyond the towering granite walls that surrounded them, a deep chill crept down the spines of all who knew...
"Neodera has fallen.... I repeat, Neodera has fallen."
Those words left the mouth of a messenger, whom even she seemed slightly in disbelief of the news she was muttering. From the state she presented herself in, it was clear this was an unexpected announcement to have to make. The brim of her blue beret sat close to dropping off her head entirely, and her uniform was unkept and unruly. Even the rustle of her hair made it apparent that she'd only just woken up to this herself.
"Sir Vaelis requests all cadets to meet at the grand hall, regardless of assigned Unit. Further instructions will follow."
The boy which answered the door didn't even have time to muster any form of response before the girl shuffled her way down the hall. Lost in his own head, he reluctantly swung the door shut, a brooding expression lingering over his face.
"Neodera has fallen..." He mumbled the girls words back to himself, just before his mind sprung into action and regressed further into the dorm.
Another boy sat warily on a white bed, that of which was uncannily pristine for a world drowned in terror. His name was Silas, hair a short light brown, and eyes of a similar amber-esc hue. Usually, known by the other cadets, he liked to keep himself to the standard of being calm. Composed.
His expression told a different story, however. He was sitting in the wake of a nightmare, after all. You could hardly blame him.
Still, his voice managed to exude that of passiveness and kindness. "We should get ready..." He murmured underneath his shallow breath.
The other boy simply nodded. In appearance, he couldn't be more different than his counterpart, Dark and unkept hair paired with piercing green eyes, that of which spoke of experience. Wisdom.
Despite that, it was much on the contrary. Neither of them had actually been out on the field, being nothing more than cadets. It had been nearly a years worth of training, only a month or so away from their graduating Ascension — that is, as long as they were able to pass, and beyond that, participate in the first place.
Today was meant to be the start of their field assessment: Wilderness survival, live training, sparring sessions, and the rest of the sort, all taken place in the span of a week to assess if they were ready for combat.
With this sudden news, however... both knew in their gut that those plans were now off the table. They had been interrupted by a massacre.
It only took a moment for the pair get dressed, no time for freshening up before the halls outside were clamoring with activity, audible even through the sturdy walls. Both wore the designated uniform for cadets: A tight yet bendable base of black metal lining the chest, lightly tempered for ease of mobility and customized to the cadets request. Covering their legs were similarly-shaded pants, the interior layer of which being loosely guarded by the same alloy, descending into thick and hardened boots latched around their ankles with a leather strap.
The arms were left relatively unobstructed, aside from thin dark leather bracers which masked the upper and lower portions of their arms, once again utilizing the metal as segmented protection. Overtop it all was a complementary shaded silk adornment, not far from the form of a cloak or coat, loose in nature and small enough to not be obstructive.
It was on the back of that very cloak, masterfully woven into its seams, did a white insignia sit, waiting to be acknowledged. It was a large and unhidden E representing Epsilon—their assigned Unit within the Phantoms. A symbol which they carried proudly upon their backs.
The same was stamped, to a less pronounced extent, just over their hearts, which at this point was practically beating at a thousand miles per second.
Silas tried his best to lighten the mood, shooting a tight smile towards his counterpart, though it didn't help much. The boy didn't even care for a glance in his direction. Instead, his eyes gazed shakily off into space, face tensed while the dissonance of chatter began to plague his ears. The pair had already mingled in with the horde of panicked cadets and frantic Phantoms billowing through the halls, and if it were just that, perhaps his nerves wouldn't have been on such edge.
It was the murmurs which kept him far from sane. The whispers of rumors and theories... "They killed them, didn't they?" A girl said nearby, "They've all been massacred... it's only a matter of time before-"
Her voice faded into the flurry of conversation within the hall. He couldn't hear the ending to her sentence. But deep down, without a single doubt in his mind, he knew what it was.
'-We're next.' He finished to himself.
His name was Nyx Correon. His dormmate Silas Faye. They were cadets of the Epsilon Unit of Phantoms, and a year after their training had started, hell on earth began to crawl up to the surface.
Neodera had fallen. They knew it was time to face the music. It was time for their response.
* * *
- | Extra information I can share thus far | -[1]
For over three hundred years, The scourge of unknown demonic beasts of countless shapes and sizes, aptly named 'Terrors,' have been appearing all around the world. Since their inception, those willing to fight back kept appearing, though they ultimately failed at achieving any form of continued resistance. It wasn't until the foundation of the Phantoms — only two years since Terrors first appeared — that humankind managed to resist their endless assault.
[1] Sometimes, I'll end chapters with some extra information for you (mostly stuff that doesn't necessarily come up without requiring an info dump). These usually aren't required to read, just may help clear up some confusion with things and provide some nice bits of world-building as well!