The first rays of morning light crept over the cracked rooftops of Persetta, washing the streets in a pale gold that did little to hide the scars. The air still carried the faint sting of smoke from the fires two nights ago, and the cobblestones underfoot were littered with fine ash that crunched faintly under every step.
Tsuki walked at the front of Judgment Squad, her eyes sweeping over every corner, as if expecting the APC to come charging back through at any moment. Beside her, Azumi kept a hand loosely on the hilt of her summoned weapon, scanning doorways and shadowed alleys. Geo trailed just behind, occasionally glancing at the upper floors of buildings, while Hatori's gaze stayed fixed forward, calm but watchful.
Here and there, Persetta's people were already at work. A blacksmith hammered bent iron back into usable shape on an improvised anvil outside his shop. Two teenage boys balanced on ladders, hammering together a new frame for a collapsed awning. A mother swept broken glass from her doorway while her daughter carefully rehung the wooden sign above it—its paint chipped and scorched, but still legible.
Tsuki slowed as they passed an old man kneeling beside a toppled fruit stand, gingerly gathering bruised apples into a basket. She bent down without a word, helping collect the scattered fruit. The man gave her a grateful nod but said nothing; it wasn't needed.
A little further ahead, Geo paused when he spotted a man struggling to lift a cracked stone beam off a doorway.
"Hold on," Geo said, jogging over. He crouched with his hands under the fallen beam, and with a grunt of effort, the two men successfully slid it to the side. The man muttered a quick thanks, with a hint of exhaustion in his voice.
Geo walked back to the others, before they continued forward. Tsuki saw a group of children chasing each other through a half-collapsed alleyway—their laughter echoing faintly. One boy balanced along a wall, holding it briefly so his friends could pass through. Despite herself, Tsuki felt a warm tug in her chest.
"They're tougher than they look, huh?" Azumi asked.
"They have to be. This place requires it," Tsuki met her eyes.
The squad turned onto a broader street, where a cluster of townsfolk were working together to right a fallen statue—its stone surface cracked, with a face weathered by years. Hatori slowed his pace, eyes tracing the faces of the people pushing the heavy marble base.
"You'd think they'd be inside, hiding away in fear."
"These people?" Geo laughed. "Persetta's populace is known for being stubborn."
Tsuki gave an agreeing nod as Hatori only shrugged his shoulders. They continued on in silence for a short while, enjoying the warmth that the sun brought, and the breeze that cooled them when the rays became too much.
Elsewhere, within the walls of Alden Central's council, Chaze loomed with a proud smile and crossed arms. He had tracked a bit of mud into the glossy marble below—but guards didn't dare say a thing.
The chamber itself smelled faintly of polished steel and incense, a manufactured calm meant to hide the tension beneath. Tall, arched windows let in strips of afternoon light, cutting across the long obsidian table. The nine Council members sat in their respective seats, robes trimmed in gold, faces a mixture of irritation and unease.
"You called for me? Ladies, gentlemen?" Chaze said, scanning each of the nine.
The councilor of Persetta leaned back within his throne. "Don't get comfortable, Chaze. This isn't a briefing… we're here to discuss the incident."
Chaze smirked. "What you call an incident, I call a decisive victory. Persetta in flames, Maro dead… and from what I hear, Igumi held its own too."
The councilor of Jon leaned forward, against knees covered by an overly long robe of luxury.
"A success doesn't leave our soldiers shaking in their boots. Dozens of reports, Chaze. Dozens of a single man cutting through our forces here in Alden Central. Our backyard. Undoubtedly the Final Sephoran—this… Ghost figure."
"You're getting worked up over mere rumors," Chaze shrugged. "I've dealt with plenty of Memento's little pets. It'd be no different if he showed the balls to confront our forces here in Central."
"This isn't a rumor, and most definitely not a joking matter, Chaze," Galion's councilor said firmly.
"And why are you speaking so demanding of me, Grupa? You have no power any longer! None of the councilors who have let Memento grasp control over their plots do!"
Chaze raised a finger in mockery. "That includes you, you, and you. And you, we're yet to see!"
The councilors of Persetta, Zimala, Jon and Galion all gasped in disbelief. Hoshuro slammed his hand at the armrest sitting beside his throne.
"Enough, Chaze. Point is, we have our next task for you. This is very possibly the most important mission of the war. You will take the superior forces of our Stalker Academy. That includes the likes of Tokira, Azembel, and the champions of our core… and hunt him down. Endlessly, until he's dead."
He tapped his fingers along the chair's frame repeatedly. "Matter of fact, bring along Nekro, just in case things take a turn for the worst."
Chaze scowled slightly. "Fine. It'll be useless cardio, my lord—but your word is final."
"Thank you. You're dismissed."
Chaze turned with a sly smile, as the other councilors grit their teeth in anger.
"Dammit!" Grupa shouted, slamming a fist into his throne. "Lord Hoshuro, dividing our forces—especially the strongest, after one man? What is the plan here?"
"Do not speak of what you don't understand, Grupa. This has been coming for a long while. And when the time comes and the Ghost dies, Memento will shatter after. But that is our priority right now."
Grupa sank back into his chair, eyes filled with confusion, the same as the other seven. Except for Hoshuro, who now wore a confident grin between his cheeks.
Further away from Alden Central and Persetta, Alden's portside grew restless.
The late afternoon sun slanted between the narrow streets of Riche, the smell of grilled fish and spiced bread mingling with the salt of the harbor. The district hummed with cautious life—vendors hawking wares, children darting between stalls—but an undercurrent of tension rode the air. Since the day the crest appeared in the sky, people had spoken in low voices, eyes darting upward as if expecting it to return.
At the edge of the market square, Gheon stood with his arms crossed, leaning on the weathered railing of a balcony that overlooked the bustling dock. His dark coat shifted in the sea breeze, hair stirring as his gaze drifted to the horizon. He hadn't been able to shake the memory—brilliant light, a shimmer in the clouds, and the whispered name that spread like wildfire in the days after.
Below him, two dockhands passed carrying crates. They spoke just loud enough for Gheon to hear.
"You think it means Memento's losin' ground? That crest and the message?"
"Well, yer heard 'bout the raids right? Persetta got hit. Hard at that."
Their voices faded into the market noise, but Gheon's mind wandered a while longer on the sentiment. From behind him, a woman approached in soft steps. Marien, dressed in a winter coat topped with a scarf to counter the cool sea-breeze.
"You've been awfully quiet since that day, Gheon. It's not like you."
He gazed a moment longer, before meeting the woman's eyes. "Been thinking. About what that crest meant… and what it means for us."
"You talk too loud—"
"I know," he said firmly with a sigh. "I know. But I've grown past the point of care about the APC's laws and demands. I believe the threat of war looms above Riche in a future near to us… and if that's the case, we best be prepared, Marien."
She nodded softly, tugging at her worn brown scarf covering her mouth. "Does this mean we announce?"
Gheon gathered a breath, before shaking his head. "Not yet. Bring civilians. This isn't a choice for I alone. The Knockin' Clogger. Tonight, a small group. Grab who you can, and there we'll discuss Riche's role."
Marien nodded, turning instantly. Gheon returned his attention to the clouded gray sky.
"As long as the APC holds influence in Alden, I've the growing feeling that the sun will continue to dim. That clouded days will mask our harbor, even when the rays do shine down."