“Is this it?” Tarak exclaims in clear disappointment.

Twenty soldiers, their equipment disorganized and unclean, stand facing Kavlina and Tarak, sweating under the intense heat. Varied in height and build, the uniformly made armor could only be described as a loose garb roughly flung onto their bodies. The helmets, even when attached to the neck guard, seem to slant slightly to the side, bobbling as their heads move. The bayonets, a cheap melee support to the beam rifle harkening from the past, are blunt and chipped, displaying the inadequacy of the metal. Even though the soldiers are hidden inside their armor, Tarak could sense the unease and fear from their quivering legs.

“Three days of waiting and this is what we get?” he complains again.

“Quiet,” Kavlina hushes, “Farus and Nasais are asleep.”

“It would’ve been better if we received one or two more experienced ones.” Yet he knows that isn’t possible. The daily reports, compiled and summarized from every action on every front, only show defeat after defeat, whether from the Confederation or from other, smaller factions such as New Rhinn or Tarviur. Sometimes, the lack of news itself would be an indirect message of further defeats. The propaganda campaign is beginning to lose its momentum, with the people once again becoming fearful. With the critical manpower shortage everywhere, he knows this is all Rasu can afford to offer.

“Excuse me, but what attitude is this?” a soldier steps forth in irritation, “We were released early from hospitalization just to serve under an equal rank, ungrateful egomaniac?”

“And who might you be, krakavaleriurona?” Tarak retorts, making up a jumbled word in the process.

“I am Mir,” the soldier replies confidently, “Formerly one of the top students in the First Academy, studying political administration. Unlike you, I want to pursue education instead of mindlessly joining the military as soon as I am of age. If it weren’t for my parents, brainwashed by the propaganda, I would’ve…”

“Enough,” Kavlina interrupts, “We are here for a mission, not to bicker around for the entire day.”

“That was uncharacteristic of you, Kavlina,” Tarak comments, “I thought you would’ve threatened the upstart a bit more.”

“And uncharacteristic of you to lose your temper this early, Tarak,” Kavlina replies.

“What, are you trying to stop me in case I damage your friend’s fragile emotions?” Mir challenges, “I heard from my superiors that you two fought at that Battle of the Pass. I thought you would be quite hardened, but I didn’t expect such softness…”

He stops, his neck feeling the poke of Kavlina’s knife through his armor. His head pulled close to her face, he finds the frightening glare of Kavlina, piercing into his own through his visor.

“Another word, and you’ll die an ‘accidental’ death,” Kavlina hisses. Mir feels a searing heat in his neck, and a small crack appears on his neck guard despite neither of them even giving a flinch.

“Now that’s more like your usual self,” Tarak smiles.

Realizing his predicament, Mir retreats back into his ranks. In the awkward scene, stifled laughter from the other soldiers can be heard, quietly poking fun at their foolish comrade. Mir can only grit his teeth, controlling his anger as Tarak begins the briefing.

“Our mission is a simple one,” he outlines, “To investigate a certain mysterious village. You could say it’s like an intelligence mission. We don’t know much about it currently, only that it is protected by a cloaking barrier of sorts. I and Kavlina, although are of equal rank as you all, will temporarily take command of this squad, authorized by General Rasu himself. If we find that the village is only inhabited by civilians and poses no danger, then we leave them be and avoid conducting battle near there, per the frequently broken laws of war. If we even find one hostile…”

“Will we kill him or her?” a soldier asks.

“I hope to kill only hostiles and avoid civilian casualties,” Kavlina answers, “I don’t want to repeat a mistake from before.” Rehlen, Sehlen… The memories flood back into her mind, stabbing her no different than a web of blades. It is the same scene again. An unmapped village. A scouting mission of sorts. A group of strangers who may or may not serve the enemy. No, it won’t end the same way. After all, she can’t allow it to end the same way. She mentally can’t.

“We’ll decide as a squad what is necessary,” Tarak rephrases, “For now, focus on the mission. I have divided the approximate area of the village into four parts. I simply want you all to report the number of houses, inhabitants, and what they’re doing. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” the soldiers respond in unison, albeit lacking the enthusiasm.

They march, carrying their supplies over the wasteland. Tarak leads in front while Kavlina covers the back, their minds in full alert. Although the group is slow, they steadily make their way until they finally reach the barrier, barely visible from their eyes.

“From here, we’ll divide ourselves into our groups,” Tarak says as he halts, “Prepare your weapons in case engagement is needed.”

Clumsily, the soldiers ready their rifles, aiming the muzzle at the ground while some of them tweak their armor for a final time, adjusting the straps and joints. As Tarak raises his hand, they split, dashing first into two directions before a faster group from each splits up again. From Tarak’s display of the map, the dots, representing the soldiers, gradually find themselves at the ends of each sector, roughly in formation.

“I assume all groups are ready?” Tarak asks.

“Ready,” they respond monotonously.

On Tarak’s modified map, markings resembling houses gradually begin to pop up, first minuscule but eventually expanding to become outlines of the structures themselves, an opaque grey filling the space in between. As expected, each is in a unique shape, some presenting themselves as a combination of quadrilaterals, while others have at least some element of other shapes. Although it is day, there are no reports of any inhabitants, only the traces of activity seen from afar.

“It’s oddly quiet for a place of human activity,” a soldier reports, “From my position, I can see a single paved road connecting some houses, but that is it.”

“Maybe it’s just abandoned,” another guesses.

“Should we approach closer?” a third suggests.

“No, not yet,” Tarak decides, “We’re here just to get a rough layout of the area. We can determine if it is hostile later.”

“Wouldn’t it be more logical to openly introduce ourselves to the inhabitants of this place instead of being almost like thieves?” Mir argues, “You’re being too cautious here, Squad Leader Tarak.”

“If they do turn out to be the enemy, will you bear responsibility for any deaths?” Tarak responds.

Unable to answer, Mir goes silent, continuing his task. There is nothing of note as the village layout is slowly completed, the dots moving back and forth around the peripherals. It is a boring task, but to Tarak, it is a blessing. The mission is going as planned, with no conflict arising from the area.

“The map is complete,” Tarak finally says, the Elyfesta shining strongly with its midday light, “We can return and analyze our findings now.”

Sighs of relief escape the soldiers’ mouths, glad to finally begin to return to the cooler, albeit cramped, bunker. It is only a short while before all of them return, eager for a rest. As they gather around Tarak, they quickly remove their helmets, their sweaty faces absorbing the natural winds that now blow from the east.

“I’m glad there weren’t any accidents,” Tarak says, “Although the fact that none of us encountered a single person is strange, we can investigate that tomorrow.”

“So the mission was just walking around and marking down houses?” Mir asks in sarcasm, “And even such a simple task requires twenty of us? I do wonder why we have manpower shortages everywhere. Ah, it must be because of paranoid soldiers like you who took away crucial troops from the front.”

“Be glad that this is all we have to do,” Kavlina approaches Mir from behind, casting a shadow on her shorter comrade, “Be glad you didn’t die.”

“Tch,” Mir scoffs.

“Let’s go,” Tarak calls. They begin to march again, treading on the same grass they arrived from. Compared to before, their pace quickens, probably due to their increased familiarity with the terrain. Again, they arrive again at the tall grass, stepping out of the barrier that gave them so much to do in the first place. It is a successful mission, as Tarak likes to think sometimes, and as long as they don’t encounter an enemy troop, it should only take a short while before they return.

“Wait,” a soldier stops, pointing somewhere in front, “Did anyone hear that?”

The ruffling of the grass, first so distant, becomes louder, the blades violently swaying as some of the dead ones crunch under someone’s feet. Alarmed, Tarak readies his rifle, preparing to shoot on sight. The ruffle grows closer and closer, until…

“Oh? Who’s this?” A small girl pops out of the grass, her confusion just enough to mask her surprise. She points at Tarak’s gun, the muzzle being almost pointed at her forehead. “What’s this funny thing?”

“Maia, where did you run off to?” a familiar voice calls out. As another figure appears from the grass, Tarak and Kavlina find themselves staring at a refreshed, slightly tanned Avalel, a necklace made of string and holding a single bead dangling from his neck. Behind him, the entire population of the village follows, on their necks also identical necklaces, surprised to find a strangely dressed group in front of them.

“Eh?” Avalel can only utter, stunned, recognizing his dear friends.

“L-Lel?” Kavlina stutters, looking at Avalel’s brown eyes.

“Avalel?” Tarak gasps, dropping his rifle as his hands instinctively reach for Avalel’s lean shoulders. “What have you eaten all this time?”

“Who are you?” the soldiers and villagers exclaim simultaneously, shocked to find so many people at once.

It is definitely a day of surprise for everyone.

“So that’s why we didn’t find anyone?” Tarak mumbles, his garbled voice mixed with the chewing of the food.

“The village has this custom of going outside as a whole group to embrace the Elyfesta in the first weeks of summer, once every week,” Avalel explains, “You just happened to stumble across one of those days.”

Kavlina stares at Avalel, her food still nearly undisturbed. She blinks rapidly, half-expecting it to be an illusion. Surely such a huge coincidence wouldn’t have happened? But Avalel is still in her sight, laughing and chattering with Tarak and the others.

The villagers’ reactions back when they first came across each other was far beyond her expectations. At first confused, some older ones even seemed to recognize that they are soldiers to an extent, but they still wholeheartedly took them in regardless. Despite Rasu’s warnings when they reported the events that happened, no one really cares, quickly mingling with the villagers. Although the dialect differences are proving to be an obstacle in their communication, it is only a small one, with some soldiers even flirting with villagers of the opposite gender. Now here they are, eating what is essentially a banquet, enjoying the homemade food provided from each household. It’s all too surreal, the peace and joy making the soldiers forget about the war just for a while.

“Avalel friend?” a girl pats her shoulder, looking at her in fascination. Kavlina recognizes her. The one who first appeared before them, the one who Avalel calls “Maia”.

“Yes, Avalel friend,” Kavlina answers, “My name is Kavlina. You?”

“Maia!” the girl happily introduces herself, “Good food?”

“Definitely.” To call it good food would be an understatement, really. Even with the limited ingredients, Kavlina feels as if she is experiencing a multitude of tastes, blending well with each other.

“Avalel made it,” Maia proudly reveals.

Wait, what? From her memory, Avalel is an inexperienced cook at best, making only the simplest foods. But here, the food that she believes to be pure gourmet, was made by Avalel himself?

“Surprised, aren’t you?” Avalel chimes in, overhearing the conversation.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Kavlina answers.

“Well, with all the time I have here, I decided to improve my skills, with cooking being one of them. I’m glad you like it.”

“Excuse me,” a soldier approaches Avalel. “But are you truly Avalel, our savior?”

“Yes, but when did I become a savior?”

“Oh, our world is saved!” The soldier drifts away, her face of relief and joy, leaving Avalel confused after the brief interruption.

“Kavlina, what did she mean when she asked if I was their savior?” Avalel questions.

“It would take a while to explain,” Kavlina replies. She had, for a moment, forgotten that Avalel had not been in the jurisdiction of the New Rules for over four months now. Perhaps she has already thrown away the empty memories without him.

“Avalel, we haven’t been with each other for so long,” Tarak suddenly says, “How about let’s have a mock duel to entertain the soldiers and the villagers?”

The suggestion silences the banquet, with all eyes on Avalel. Tarak, his eyes brimming with confidence, reveals his eagerness for a fight, even if it is just for entertainment. The villagers, knowing Avalel’s daily routine, show a similar face. The soldiers, meanwhile, begin muttering amongst themselves, making bets on who would win.

“Now?” Avalel asks, completely surprised.

“Avalel, you’ll win,” Maia encourages, “Yes.”

“Yes, yes, yes…” The group begins chanting, pressuring Avalel as Tarak continues to wait. Kavlina, meanwhile, stays silent, observing the situation and being the sole calmly figure next to Avalel,

“Alright, I’ll accept,” Avalel finally answers, to the cheers of many. “I’ll try my best to not kill you.”

“Ah, are you so sure you’ll win so easily?” Tarak doubts, “After all, you haven’t faced combat for months.”

“We’ll fight in an empty area, correct?”

“Of course, but prepare your weapon. I won’t be holding back.” He walks to his bag, picking up his rifle and two knives, one borrowed from Kavlina.

“You know what weapon I’ll use,” Avalel grins. Hurrying into his house, he grabs the Anapadeia, polished and gleaming in the starlight. The soldiers stare in awe at what is essentially their first true taste of Avalel’s power, while the villagers cheer for Avalel, waving tablecloths and utensils.

“It reminds me of our first meeting, honestly,” Tarak says, “When we were just cadets. You defeated me too easily then. It’s time for a rematch.”

“I’ve improved much since then,” Avalel replies, “Don’t expect this to be any easier for you.”

In a flash, Avalel darts forth towards Tarak, the energy swirling around the Anapadeia. Like a shield the energy from the sword protects him from Tarak’s shots, rapidly closing their distance. Avalel thrusts the sword, but it only strikes the ground as Tarak jumps, firing several shots in succession. As they hit the ground around Avalel, they explode, kicking up smoke, clouding his view.

Avalel spins his body, cleanly cutting the smoke in half, only to find Tarak thrusting a knife at his shoulder from behind. He parries, twirling his body again to face Tarak.

A slash. A strong, clean cut from the Anapadeia slices the knife in half, an aura of energy surrounding the blade. Tarak jumps back, retrieving his rifle as he throws away the now-broken knife.

Tarak shoots, the beams aiming for Avalel’s chest. A simple, efficient parry, deflecting the beams to the air, the condensed energy quickly disintegrating into the air. And then the show begins.

Where Avalel dashed past in the duel, pale blades materialize in the air. The Anapadeia shines in glorious light, illuminating the entire village. Putting his left foot slightly behind, Avalel suddenly charges at Tarak, the Anapadeia’s light blinding him as the hundreds of blades race towards his chest.

“Wait!” Tarak shouts. He closes his eyes in fear, waiting for the inevitable.

Silence. As Tarak opens his eyes, he sees his body skewered by all the blades, yet they are only apparitions. The Anapadeia stops just before his torso, the heat from the energy slightly melting the surface of his armor. The blades disappear, erupting into a flowery dance of little sparks of energy. He stands stunned, looking at Avalel’s victorious face.

“You lose again,” Avalel smiles, pointing the Anapadeia upwards as the energy shoots into the sky, exploding into a rain of light. Streaks of light reflect off the people’s faces, giving the night a temporary illusion of day.

“That was amazing, Avalel,” Tarak congratulates, “You even thought of these complicated uses of energy while fighting me.”

“You did say it was for entertainment,” Avalel laughs. The two embrace each other, both glad to see each other again after months of separation.

For the soldiers and the villagers, it is a day of many coincidences and surprising relaxation. For Avalel, Tarak, and Kavlina, it is a day of reunion.