“Wake up, Avalel,” Tarak orders, “We have a meeting today.”

Avalel yawns, quickly changing into his military uniform and devouring the prepared breakfast. “Another meeting?” he mumbles.

“Rasu has something for us to discuss,” Tarak states, “We’re likely going to be deployed for another mission again.”

“Hurry,” Kavlina urges impatiently, “It will not look good to be late for a new recruit.”

A week has passed since the festival of Harorana. Already the festivities have died down, and the city of Thille is again its usual self. In times of peace, the first week of the new year would be a moment of rest for everyone, yet in this prolonged war, such luxuries can only be a memory of the past. The gloom of war hangs over everyone, and although Harorana gives a moment of happiness, that moment quickly fades away, and what remains is the same emptiness, bottomless and hollow, felt by all.

“This is a public announcement to the citizens of Thille and the New Rule,” a monotone voice declares through the numerous loudspeakers in the city as they walk by, “Our soldiers are making good headway into Fort Habala, an enemy stronghold. It is expected that the stronghold will soon fall.”

The people murmur amongst themselves, some unable to hold in their excitement, while others scoff in pessimism. Since the beginning of the new year, there will always be some sort of public announcement regarding the war every morning, as if reminding the populace of the obvious fact that they're at war.

A drifting poster smacks Avalel’s face, and with some difficulty, he frantically removes it, tossing it aside with little care. The propaganda as well… The streets are littered with propaganda posters, preaching the apparently great victories won and the glory of being in the armed forces. A short distance away, he sees a man pick up a few of those posters, looking at them with indifference before throwing them into a nearby trash can.

“We’re becoming desperate,” Kavlina notes, “Volunteers alone will soon not be enough.”

They walk past a recruitment office, saluting to a fellow soldier standing guard. Yet except for the soldier and the clerks inside, the office is entirely empty, ignored and nearly invisible. Civilians walk by, not bothering to even slip a glance.

“There used to be such a long line here,” they hear the soldier mutter, “We lost our initial fire of excitement. If only something can be done to rekindle this fire…”

Just end this war already, Kavlina thinks.

After a while, they arrive at a room, the entrance a short metal sliding door. Ducking a little, they find to their surprise a crowd of twenty or so individuals in addition to the squad, some dressed in extravagant, fancy clothing while others are simply in their worn uniforms. Seeing all these strange faces, Avalel backs up a step in caution.

“Welcome,” Rasu greets, “You’re just in time.”

Awkwardly, they shuffle over to Rasu, where they stand next to Bairuel. “Who are these people?” Avalel asks quietly.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Rasu answers, his lips barely moving.

“Alright,” one of the strangers, a muscular man decorated with multiple badges, says, “Shall we begin?”

“Of course,” Rasu replies.

“First, we must introduce ourselves as this is likely the first time we met,” the man stands, towering over nearly all in the room, “I am Liarul, commander of the Liarul Forces, which currently guards the Pass of Elethien.”

“I am Eia,” a similarly muscular woman, the left side of her face bandaged, introduces, “I am a subordinate of Liarul and I am in charge of the army branch in the Liarul Forces,”

“I am Gilara,” a short but intimidating woman continues, “I am also a subordinate of Liarul and I'm in charge of the aerial and voidal branch.”

Voidal? Avalel wonders, having first heard of such an alien term.

“And I'm Marun,” a finely-dressed man with fatigued eyes finishes, “A subordinate of Liarul and in charge of the support branch.”

“Then who are all these soldiers?” Bairuel asks.

“The others here are my bodyguards,” Liarul explains, “They loyally accompany me wherever I go.”

Just how experienced are these veterans of war? Tarak thinks.

“As you know, I am Rasu, and these are…” Rasu attempts to introduce the squad, but is quickly cut short by Liarul.

“Now, with introductions complete, it is time to commence the meeting,” Liarul says, ignoring Rasu, “As we all know, the Pass of Elethien is a vital strategic location, the main highway that connects the two halves of the East. It is imperative that we control this pass as a prerequisite for any offensive against the Confederation. Yet according to recent intelligence reports, the Confederation is building up their forces in the region.” A display of the terrain crackles to life, projecting onto the only table in the room. In the middle of a near-impassible mountain range, there lay a wide gap, dotted with layers upon layers of fortifications, bunkers, mounds, and energy barriers.

“In the week since the new year began,” Eia continues, “The number of Confederate forces have nearly tripled, with more expected to arrive in the following weeks. It's as if they're pooling everything into this small area. Yet meanwhile, our forces in the area remain the same as we were unable to transfer soldiers from other fronts due to low manpower.”

“If this continues,” Gilara warns, “We may very well face the possibility of being overrun despite our strong defenses.”

“What does this have to do with our squad?” Evi questions.

“We request that Squad Rasu disrupt enemy lines with acts of sabotage or even assassination,” Liarul coolly states, “If it can cause confusion, it can buy us time to recruit more soldiers and strengthen the Pass.”

“You’re crazy,” Rasu refuses, “You’re asking for a squad of eleven to sabotage a force numbered in the tens of thousands, a task you decided not to give to your own precious soldiers.”

“I understand that as an elite unit, Squad Rasu exercises greater independence and freedom than an average squad,” Liarul explains, “Yet in the face of such a crisis, anything that can help is greatly needed.”

“You’re asking for what basically means suicide.”

“We have requested the assistance of many other elite squads as well,” Marun adds, “Not one has refused.”

Are they even listening to Rasu? Avalel thinks, frustration building up inside.

“Unfortunately, I have to refuse,” Rasu says firmly, “We are a scout unit, not an infiltration unit. You will only be wasting the lives of talented soldiers if you send us to this mission. Those units who accepted… They were pressured, weren't they? ” He laughs.

“So prideful, so confident, so stubborn,” Liarul comments, “You are exactly as I imagine you, Rasu. I pity your soldiers for following such a failure of a leader.”

“Take that back.” In a swift motion, Bairuel points his knife at Liarul’s throat briefly before his wrists are grabbed by two bodyguards. The other bodyguards, alarmed, point their rifles at Bairuel.

“Bairuel, calm down,” Rasu gently pushes Bairuel’s arm downwards, “He’s not entirely wrong, after all.”

“I see the shadows of that disaster still haunt you,” Liarul says, “Why not accept this request as atonement?”

For some reason, Avalel feels a boiling anger rising inside of him. To make matters worse, the Anapadeia by his side begins to glow in excitement, as if anticipating something to come.

“If you have arranged this meeting just to force us into a suicidal mission, I would have to depart now,” Rasu sternly rejects, “There is much to be done today.”

This maturity… so different from the usual Rasu.

“No need for further arguments,” a man proclaims as he confidently enters the room, shoving the sliding door. Rasu snorts slightly as he covers his mouth.

“Ah, Turhven,” Liarul welcomes, “What brings you here today? Aren't you supposed to be at the battlefield, supervising the siege of Habala?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the Pass?” Turhven replies, completely ignoring Rasu as a screen appears in front of him, “Anyway, here is a command directly from the President, passed by the Assembly. I have left my command of the armies at Habala to Kan for the time being so I can personally deliver this message.”

“And what is this command?” Evi asks impatiently.

“The command is as such: all military personnel from the proximity of the Pass of Elethien, including Thille itself, shall be relocated to the Pass. These troops will be under the direct command of President Kamirel and General Liarul. As an executive command, any who refuse shall be forcefully and permanently removed from their post.”

“What a relief,” Liarul smiles in satisfaction, “Finally the civilian government is doing something beneficial to the war effort. Rasu, can you even refuse now?”

Rasu opens his mouth to protest, but he is quickly stopped by Evi, eyeing him with a repressed rage. “Squad Rasu will accept,” he smiles hollowly, eyeing Liarul, “So long as we’re fighting as scouts or normal soldiers. I'm sure the President wouldn't mind.”

Liarul bites his lip in irritation. “Rasu, you cannot stay reckless like this for long.” With that, he storms out of the room, his bodyguards and subordinates following closely behind.

“You have one day to prepare yourself before you depart to the front,” Turhven remarks, “Let’s hope you will prepare yourself, Rasu. No one wants to see a repeat of that mistake, that disaster.”

“Let’s hope I don't get the blame for the blunders of another person,” Rasu responds, the same smile plastered on his face.

“See you on the battlefield,” Turhven manages a reply before leaving, slamming the door behind him.

Rasu collapses onto the table, his previous strength completely leaving him. “What a pain it is to deal with high-ranking officers,” he complains, his face almost deflating.

“How will we be assigned at the Pass?” Evi asks.

“This will be up to our superiors to decide. More importantly, however,” Rasu says as he looks at the Anapadeia, “is how we should hide this sword. I've somewhat accustomed myself to seeing this archaic blade just hanging by Avalel’s waist in the past week, but we have to remember that the Anapadeia holds much connection to the previous empire, and may cause much unrest if many people found out.”

“To be frank,” Tarak notes, “I’m surprised the fact of Avalel’s possession of the Anapadeia is still almost unknown, considering how often he carries it with him.”

“Can’t he just use the strange art known as magic?” Bairuel asks, “I’ve seen Kavlina and Tarak use it in training, and it does seem like a viable method.”

“The magic we used was only for healing and energy bursts when contacting a surface,” Kavlina explains, “I don’t know if we can use magic to essentially make something invisible.” If only Taravi were still here to teach us.

“I don't even know if energy can be manipulated like this…” Avalel begins, but is cut short as he looks at the Anapadeia.

To everyone's surprise, the Anapadeia begins to fade away, its color dimming and melting into the background until it has essentially disappeared, with only faint waves of energy painting an outline.

“Wait, where did it…” Avalel attempts to grab at the outline, and blood immediately flows out of his hand as cuts appear on his palm.

A surprise, isn't it, young one? the voice chuckles slightly, It’s a simple magic of concealment that can fool most people nowadays.

“Lel, how did you do it?” Kavlina asks.

“I-I don't know,” Avalel lies, “It just came so naturally.”

“We have more to worry about,” Tarak sighs, “This mission to the Pass is too sudden.”

“Well, we are soldiers,” Rasu replies, “We are basically slaves to our faction, aren't we?” He lets out a laugh. “All we can do is look forward to the next battle and hope we don't die.”

“As if there isn't any conflict within the faction itself,” Bairuel mutters.

“Anyway, let's train even harder today to prepare for the battle!” Rasu proclaims, “In the meantime, I'll try to learn a bit of this magic. You'll never know when it'll come in handy!”

Just when will this war end? Avalel wonders.

Nasition strolls around his room in the headquarters overlooking the Pass of Elethien. Below him lies the site of many battlefields, where thousands… no, millions of brave souls died over the course of millennia. Here, the names of many heroes were also etched into the records of history for their bravery in this valley. Over the course of the past week, he had managed to assemble at least fifty thousand soldiers, not including support and reserves, with many more on the way. The Voidal Fleet floats above, protecting the skies, perching above like birds of prey. The heavy cannons and artillery are in place, buffered by many layers of energy barriers. Even the formidable “mobile fortresses”, feared for their destructive power, are ready. All that is left is the single command to attack, symbolized by the unsheathing of his sword.

Yet this is an extremely risky endeavor. The other factions may see the weakening of the other fronts as an opportunity to strike the Confederation. The facade of strength cannot be held on for much longer. He has played his cards right in his years in power, and now, it is time for him to completely reveal his hand. This risk, so bold, might just bring him victory, but if it fails, it will cost him everything.

But that doesn't matter. That threat whom he despises, he hates, he fears, will soon be erased. Finally, he can defeat his greatest rival to the east, a significant step to dominance, and eventually, peace. He is sick of this war as many others are. Perhaps, finally, all this can come to an end.

He clutches his locket tightly before sliding it inside his coat. It’s time. He reaches for his comms, projecting his hologram to all of his generals.

“Today, we take the Pass of Elethien,” he declares, “Raise the flag of victory, the emblem of the Confederation! The battle, no, the war is ours!”

He unsheathes his sword, the turquoise blade reflecting, refracting, slicing the light of the Elyfesta into narrow rays. Stasibel, it's time to end this.