Somewhere in Mid-Sector 99â
At the summit of a towering mountain, high above the clouds and cloaked in the stillness of night, a sudden gust tore through the air.
Without hesitation, she took only a few steps forward until her boots met the very edge of the cliff.
Then, a voiceâdeep, jagged, and unmistakably feminineâcut through the silence like a rusted blade scraping bone.
It sounded as though its owner had once screamed with such force that her throat was torn and had only just begun to heal:
"This is it. Letâs begin."
The woman standing there was not like the others. No human scholar, no expert on the bloodlines could easily place her race. She was undoubtedly
human
, yesâbut something else stirred beneath the surface.
Something...
fierce
.
Something
built for war.
She stood close to two meters tall, her posture regal but grounded, like a weapon forged and waiting.
Her hair was cropped aggressively shortâshaved on the sides with a faint upward gradient toward a slightly longer crown. It was the kind of cut worn by soldiers who didnât expect to return from battle.
She wore a heavy metal gloves with the tips of hear fingers showing, fashioned not just for defense but to
amplify pain
. Now clenched into fists, they creaked faintly, as though the very metal feared her grip.
Her armor was black and minimalâscattered across her body in brutal, efficient patches.
Two thick plates guarded her thighs, one covered each shoulder, a reinforced vambrace protected her wrist, and her broad chest was bound with reinforced straps, cinched tightly to hide its curve behind an angular breastplate.
The way she stood, the way her sharp eyes stared downwardâthere was no doubt:
She was a
hunter
, and something below was about to become prey.
"Ki ki ki..."
A harsh, nasal laugh echoed behind her.
"
Begin what
, exactly? Iâll deal with them alone. No need to waste your energyâgo steep some tea and wait for victory, lady."
The voice belonged to Wade, and it oozed mockery like venom from a fang.
His laugh was wild and unhingedâ
a cackle fit for hyenas feasting under blood moons
.
"Wade..." she growled, without turning her head.
"Did you not
learn
last time?"
In one fluid movement, she turned, reached back, and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him with one hand like a sack of grain.
"Do you enjoy
being used as a chair
this much? Or does your face just crave
more scars
?"
Wade looked youngâtwenties perhapsâbut no one would mistake him for innocent.
He wore a dark, casual outfit, unremarkable save for the massive dagger strapped to his belt, its hilt worn and chipped from years of use.
His head was shaved along the sides, and a long black stripe of hair swept back to his shoulders like the tail of a panther.
His upper body was absurdly muscular, his shirt stretched taut over his chest and arms, ready to split at the seams.
Yet despite her grip, he
laughed
again.
His narrow eyes twinkled with mischief as he tilted his head playfully:
"Your face isnât much better off, Latania. If youâre aching for a rematch, I wonât say no.
But this time... Iâll make you waddle around the planet like a duck. Ki ki ki..."
CRACKLING TENSION.
The air itself seemed to warp between the two.
On one side stood Lataniaâsharp, silent, always two seconds away from violence.
On the other, Wadeâchaotic, grinning, utterly unbothered by consequence.
Their bodies were canvases of warâ
marked, branded, burned
.
Their faces and exposed skin bore only tattoos and scars in every shape imaginable:
some shaped like lightning bolts, others like hearts or childâs drawing, there was even a scar that looked like a penis
!
Step...
"Enough."
A third voice rang out. Calm.
"This is neither the time nor the place. Finish the mission,
then
rip each other apart."
A man emerged from the shadowed ridgeline behind them.
He wore a long, flowing cloakâsplit open at the frontârevealing layered robes beneath, each tied with ropes, leather cords, and metallic clasps.
His right hand remained hidden beneath the folds of his cloak, while his left extended outwardâholding a short staff . It pointed toward the two warriors like a judgeâs gavel.
His gaze was concealed beneath a wide hood, but his presence exuded commandâ
not the authority given by rank, but the kind earned in blood and fire.
"Still not armored up?"
His voice was dry.
"What am I dealing withâwarriors or children?"
His face looked like that of a man in his late twentiesâweathered just enough to command respect, but still carrying the smoothness of youth. A light stubble traced his jawline, clean and deliberate, the kind that wasnât laziness but rather carefully maintained for a rugged elegance. His hairâneither too long nor too shortâwas of that perfect in-between length that allowed it to be slicked back effortlessly, giving him a composed, almost aristocratic demeanor.
His complexion was a warm tan, kissed by sun and wind, and his eyesâhalf-lidded and heavy-lashedâheld a serenity that was almost otherworldly. There was something about his gaze that made time feel slower, like he had just stirred from a centuries-long slumber with no intention of rushing anything ever again.
"Malik," Latania spoke without even glancing at him, releasing her grip on Wadeâs collar with a scoff. She turned slightly, her tone dry and unimpressed.
"Youâd better keep your sage advice to yourself... and start by putting on your own damn armor first."
Then, with deliberate defiance, she leaned in toward Wade again, her eyes glinting like twin blades unsheathed.
"Just wait till this mission ends. Tonight, itâs going to be 298 to 298. I
guarantee
it."
"Muah."
Wade pressed a mocking kiss to the tip of her nose, completely unbothered.
"Drink your milk and get some rest, kitten, it is 297 to 298 and the gap will only get wider Ki ki ki~"
"Thatâs because youâre a deceitful little bastard!!"
Latania growled, wiping her nose with an exaggerated look of disgust. Her hand clenched into a fist, the very air around it beginning to shiver.
And thenâ
wooooooosh
âshe slammed it downward, the punch carrying such weight it warped the wind around it into a miniature storm.
"Ki ki ki!!" Wade was already gone, leaping back with perfect timing, a clean slit opening in the space behind him as he slipped through it and vanished with a flicker.
"Damn you!!"
Latania halted her fist mid-swing, her other hand clamping around her wrist to stop the momentum. Just like that, the building storm dissipated.
The power, the vibration, the raw energy that had built up in her armâ
gone
without a trace. The dust at her feet hadnât even stirred.
"Heh~" Malik shook his head slowly, his voice still wrapped in that ever-present drowsiness.
"You two seriously need to end this ridiculous rivalry. Every time one of you wins, you mark up the loser with some absurd symbol and force them into an embarrassing forfeit. Is
that
how the proud leaders of the Imperial Guard act? Like bored children?"
Even Malikâwhose sleepy expression rarely changedâfurrowed his brow ever so slightly as he continued.
"We three are the first in the entire Royal Guard to reach level 50 in each of the three Fundamental Laws. We stand firm under the threat of a World Cataclysm. Yet here you are... scarred, bruised, and playing games. What would His Majesty say when he saw you all covered and injured like this? Do you know how humiliating it would be if he thought you were being defeated in battle, and not fools tearing each other apart in a game?"
"Calm down, Malik."
Wade emerged lazily from a spatial tear beside him, arm looping over Malikâs shoulder as if they were about to take a stroll through a garden.
"We havenât seen His Majesty before. Who knows when weâll get the honor? Weâll heal fast when it matters. These are nothing more than scratches~."
"Exactly."
Latania folded her arms with a smug smirk, her voice rich with challenge.
"If thatâs your excuse for avoiding our duels, itâs the weakest Iâve heard yet. Just admit itâyouâre scared to face either of us."
"Heh~" Malik gave a soft exhale, half sigh and half laugh.
"Donât try to pull me into your circus. Iâve got more important things to do."
With the grace of a monk and the indifference of someone far above mortal pettiness, Malik turned and walked ahead. Each step was slow, quiet, and deliberateâlike a man crossing a sacred temple floor.
"Hmm?" Wade tilted his head, frowning.
His armâstill outstretched as if it had just left Malikâs shoulderâwas frozen in midair, motionless.
It turned out he hadnât touched him at all. And his elbow was only now starting to lower... ever so slowly.
"Hey! Thatâs not cool, man. You used the
Major Time Law
on me again, didnât you? Two can play this game, you know?"
"Letâs save those Laws," Malik said coolly, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair,
"for someone who deserves them."
He lifted his short black staff and pointed it toward the ground below.
"The Ancestral Blood Multiple Empire... must be wiped from the map tonight."
He paused, then turned his head slightly with a sly grin.
"Though, Iâd wager itâs a trap."
"Ki ki ki~ I can only hope it is."
Wade cracked his neck on both sides with audible snaps, his grin wide and wolfish.
Latania raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Whatâs this? Malik, getting jumpy over a little trap?"
Malikâs smile stretched slightly wider. For the first time, a sliver of wildness entered his calm faceâlike lightning behind glass.
"Whoever contributes the
least
tonight gives the others a foot massage. Fair?"
"Haha! Iâm so in!"
Latania clapped her hands with excitement.
"I
definitely
need a massage after this. Gentlemenâput your armor on. And allow me..."
She turned toward the city in the valley below, her voice growing in power.
"...to
open
the day."
From behind her, she reached for a weapon that seemed far too large for a normal human to liftâ
A massive warhammer, nearly as thick as her body, carved with ancient runes glowing faintly in anticipation.
She raised it over her head.
And brought it down.
KACHAAAAAAAAA!!!
The ground split like glass under a hammer.
A new war had begun.