Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Blacksmith's Day (8)

  Orin’s vision blurred for a moment. The sting in his arm flared with each heartbeat, and the world tilted beneath his feet. He staggered, until Gina rushed to his side, slipping her shoulder under his for support.

  “Thank you,” Orin murmured, trying to sound steadier than he felt. “But it looks like we’ve got a problem.”

  He wasn’t wrong. The sound of marching boots and clattering metal echoed through the streets. An entire platoon, by the sound of it. Escape in their condition was impossible.

  His eyes swept the field: Cor still lay unconscious nearby, her breathing faint; Aran was barely standing, her body trembling with exhaustion; Sirius, farther away, was still trying to get up after the last blow.

  A ragged, wheezing laugh broke through the noise.

  The knight, still kneeling with Orin’s arrow lodged deep in his chest, forced out a rough chuckle between shallow breaths. “Heh… looks like your luck’s run out. Cough… The rest of my men will be here any moment. You won’t make it out… not in that condition.”

  Orin gritted his teeth. As much as he hated it, he was right.

  “What do we do now?” Gina asked, her voice thin and strained. “We can’t fight or run like this.”

  Orin’s eyes darted toward the two unfamiliar boys who still stood frozen nearby, pale and speechless from the chaos. An idea sparked in his mind. “Take me to them,” he said.

  Leaning on Gina, he forced his legs to move. Each step felt heavier than the last, but he didn’t have a choice. When the two boys noticed him approaching, they blinked as if finally snapping out of their trance and hurried over.

  “Are you all right?” asked the older one, the boy with black hair and crimson eyes. “That last shot… I didn’t think anyone could actually bring that monster down.”

  “I’ll live,” Orin replied curtly. “But we need your help. We can’t escape alone in this state.”

  “Escape?” the brown-haired boy beside him said in disbelief. “The city’s surrounded. There’s nowhere to run.”

  “He’s right,” Gina added, her voice trembling as she glanced toward the sounds of marching growing closer. “Even if we leave, they’ll catch us eventually.”

  Orin hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. He didn’t know these two, but right now, trust was their only chance. “We have a transport waiting at the North Gate. Once we reach it, it’ll take us to a ship bound for Minoris.”

  At that, the brown-haired boy’s eyes widened. “Minoris?” He exchanged a quick, knowing look with his companion. “I’m from Minoris. If there’s a way out of this nightmare, that’s where we need to go. Name’s Dan, and this idiot here is Jin.”

  The red-eyed boy grinned, brushing some dust from his shoulder. “Jin Alsafi, at your service. Adventurer, traveler, and connoisseur of good food, good fights, and beautiful women.” He flashed a wink at Gina, who immediately stiffened and clung tighter to Orin in rejection.

  “Don’t take his behavior too seriously,” Dan said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve only known him a few days, but I can tell you right now, he’s all talk. If we end up fighting again, don’t count on him for anything.”

  “Hey, you’re making me sound terrible,” Jin protested. “I am a traveling adventurer, you know. Seeing the world, chasing glory, tasting every good dish along the way… so a trip to Minoris sounds perfect to me.”

  Orin didn’t have time for the banter. “I don’t care what you are,” he cut in. “If you’re coming with us, help me now. We need to move.”

  Both boys nodded quickly. It was a fair trade for a way out of this chaos. With that settled, the group hurried toward Aran and Sirius.

  “Gina,” Orin said, steadying himself, “I’ll manage. Go help Cor. We need to leave, fast.”

  Gina hesitated for only a heartbeat before obeying, rushing to where Cor lay. Meanwhile, Dan supported Sirius, pulling the battered knight to his feet, while Jin offered Aran a hand.

  “I’m fine,” Aran muttered, shaking her head. “Just… give me a moment to breathe.”

  That was when the cold, metallic voice returned, sharper now, almost venomous.

  “Time’s up.”

  The fallen knight, still knelt with the arrow buried in his chest, his words echoing through the square just as the thunder of hooves broke the silence.

  A man on horseback entered the scene, followed by nearly a dozen soldiers. The crest on their armor gleamed under the light, not the sigil of the Church of Luminia.

  Orin froze, realization dawning. Those are League uniforms…

  The rider dismounted swiftly. Despite the weight of his heavy armor, his movements were fluid, precise. Removing his helmet revealed black hair and striking green eyes. He was young—perhaps nineteen—but the aura around him was unmistakable: composed, commanding. The kind of presence Orin had only ever sensed from knights like Hector or Leo.

  “How far you’ve fallen, Kane,” the newcomer said, approaching the kneeling knight. “To think my father’s former disciple would stoop to serving the Oracle’s will. Truly pathetic.”

  “Tch…” Kane spat, glaring up weakly. “So you’re here, Hadar. I take it you’ve already slaughtered my men?”

  The young knight’s expression didn’t waver. “They chose their allegiance. As for you, your time ends here.”

  Kane’s voice rasped lower, defiant. “You can arrest me… but the Oracle’s mission will soon be fulfilled. You can’t stop what’s coming.”

  “Silence.” Hadar’s tone cut like steel. “You are no longer a knight, you’re a traitor.”

  He gestured sharply, and two of his subordinates stepped forward to restrain Kane.

  Once the order was carried out, Hadar turned toward Orin. The shift in his demeanor was immediate. His sharpness softened into formal grace.

  He bowed slightly, one hand over his chest. “My name is Hadar Kentaurus, of the League of Knights. Eldest son of Captain Rigil Kentaurus.” His gaze met Orin’s, steady and respectful. “It is an honor to see you again, Orin, son of Captain Keid Alpheratz.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Orin replied, returning the bow with equal courtesy. In truth, he barely remembered the young knight. He had met countless members of the League of Knights—both at his home and during visits to the Imperial Palace—so it wasn’t surprising that Hadar Kentaurus was only a faint memory.

  “I’m sorry for the state you’re in,” Hadar said sincerely. “I heard what happened at Solaris Academy from my younger brother, he’s still a fourth-year student in the knighthood course.”

  “Then you must know what’s happening!” Orin stepped forward, his voice rising with urgency. “Sorcerers are being hunted without reason—!”

  “I know.” Hadar’s reply was quiet but resolute. “The League has tried to restrain the Church’s actions as much as possible… but things have grown complicated.” His eyes shifted briefly to Kane, still bound and kneeling nearby. “Desertions. Betrayals. The lines between loyalty and heresy have blurred.”

  The weight of his words hung heavy.

  Orin looked back at his companions: Gina tending to Cor, Aran leaning against a wall, Sirius barely standing. They couldn’t stay here.

  He gathered his courage and spoke. “We’re heading toward the North Gate. A transport is waiting there to take us to safety.” He deliberately left out Minoris. “Would it be possible for your men to escort us? The Church soldiers are closing in.”

  Hadar paused, studying him for a moment. His expression was difficult to read beneath the flickering torchlight.

  “…We can do that,” he said finally. “We’re already moving to secure the northern route and take Kane and his mercenaries into custody. Our paths align.”

  Relief swept through Orin like a tide. “Thank you,” he said, bowing his head. “You don’t know what this means to us.”

  “Save your gratitude for later,” Hadar said lightly as he approached him. “First, let’s make sure you don’t collapse before we leave.”

  He raised a gauntleted hand, placing it gently over Orin’s wounded arm.

  “PRAYER: Holy Mend.”

  A warm, golden light enveloped the wound, pulsing gently before fading into nothing. When Orin looked down, the gash had completely vanished.

  “You can use healing abilities?” Orin asked, astonished.

  “Of course,” Hadar replied, almost surprised by the question. “Your father can, too. Most League knights are trained as paladins, it’s part of our creed. Though judging from your face, I take it Captain Alpheratz never told you that.”

  Orin blinked, stunned. His father, capable of healing? He had never once mentioned it. In fact, now that Orin thought about it, there were many things his father had never spoken of. Details that had always felt… deliberately omitted.

  A quiet unease settled in his chest. Maybe his father hadn’t wanted him to walk the same path after all.

  After tending to the others’ wounds with the same practiced ease, Hadar turned back to his men and began issuing orders. Meanwhile, Orin approached Aran, who was leaning against a half-collapsed wall, catching her breath.

  “The Knights of the League will escort us to our destination,” Orin said, a hint of renewed hope in his voice. “If all goes well, we should reach the North Gate by nightfall.”

  “Do you really think we should keep heading there?” Aran asked quietly, her expression shadowed by doubt. “We still have a long journey to Dhamarr ahead of us… this detour could slow us down.”

  “I know,” Orin admitted, lowering his gaze. “But I couldn’t just abandon them, not after everything. Now that I’ve seen firsthand the difference between someone who wields a Guardian Spirit and someone who doesn’t… I couldn’t live with myself if they didn’t make it to safety.”

  Aran didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes drifted toward the scorched street, the faint light of the fires reflecting in her irises.

  “You still don’t fully understand what that difference means,” she said finally, her tone calm, almost distant. “That man, Kane, was a summoner, yes. But he was an incomplete one. Fortunately for us, his Guardian Spirit was weak.”

  “Incomplete?” Orin repeated, frowning.

  Aran nodded. “I’m sorry to say it, but I’m also an incomplete summoner. I made my contract not long ago, but I haven’t developed any summoning skills yet. In other words, I’m what we call an egg-stage summoner. Once a summoner manages to manifest their Guardian Spirit’s passive ability, like Kane’s anti-skill field, they reach the sparrow stage. But only those who’ve mastered their Spirit’s ultimate power, like Captain Altair or Felis, can be called phoenix-level summoners.”

  Orin took a moment to process it. So summoning was divided by mastery and affinity… from the fragile egg, to the fledgling sparrow, and finally, to the blazing phoenix. Even so, Kane hadn’t felt weak in the slightest.

  “Once you start learning the art of summoning, you’ll understand better,” Aran said, as if reading his thoughts. “Also, a summoner’s strength doesn’t just depend on their stage, but on the level of their Guardian Spirit, and how deeply they resonate with it. Kane… didn’t seem particularly gifted in either.”

  Orin nodded slowly. He wanted to ask more, but before he could, Hadar’s commanding voice echoed across the square.

  “Everyone, gather here!”

  They turned to find Hadar standing at the center, his armor glinting beneath the fractured light.

  “We’ll move toward the North Gate immediately,” he announced. “Expect resistance along the way. Stay behind the formation, and do not engage unless you’re directly attacked. If things turn dire, run. Understood?”

  Everyone nodded.

  The Knights of the League formed up swiftly, shields raised and banners fluttering in the cold air. Orin took one last glance at Aran before falling in behind them. The air was thick with the scent of dust and ash, and as they began their march northward, the distant horns of the city blowed—solemn and hollow—echoing like a warning through the streets.