Duke Acrisius sat in his office, face-palming at the report, when Nereo Melosov opened the door to greet him.

If one imagine Acrisius was a middle-age man dressed in extravagant clothing befitting a royalty, they would be half correct. True, the man sported a greying short boxed beard, greying rush hair and wrinkling forehead as a sign of obvious age. However, the stereotypical evil old-man image died there. The man wore a loose shirt covered with a military jacket, which did little to hide the buffed body honed through military service. Acrisius wasn’t an arm-chair noble. While lacking the talent, knowledge and dedication to break into the realm of S-ranker, he was a solid A-rank.

“I heard about Promtus and Kakia, my condolence,” Nereo feigned empathy. Mad scientist aside, he could be a decent actor if he put his mind to it.

“Stop it, Melosov!” Acrisius growled, letting temper got ahead of him. “Don’t you realize how bad this is! It would be okay if we could sweep this under a rug, but ten-thousands of our men came back telling the same story that is spreading like wildfire! Not one, but two! TWO! Two Preator with an army of ten-thousand man chased down the defeated Atlanta and her rag-tag company barely above a hundred in headcount got beaten half-to-death.”

“Sound like overkill,” Melosov whistled. “Seriously, ten-thousand to chase a hundred. What are you thinking?”

“To sent a message!” Acrisius yelled. “Atlanta won’t give-up unless we shattered her hope. The depth of the Centuria royal family is massive. I need to make sure she can’t find a secret weapon to overturn our advantage. Those numbers are sent to assure any surprise is stomp.”

“Well, you are right,” Melosov nodded. “But 100-to-1 advantage is sadly not enough.”

Acrisius wiped a sweat from his brows and sank into his chair. The weight of failure pressed down on him. Centuria was a weakening nation and this Civil War scrapped the bottom of reserve and hidden favors they got. All the Dukes ran to every S-rankers they could to establish their rules. In Acrisius’ dreamworld, he would already capture Atlanta and extracted the location to the Hidden Vault.

The Hidden Vault. It was a treasure rumored hoard of Centuria for time of great emergency. However, only a scant few knew that the treasury was real. Its location was only known to the upper echelon of the nation and the key was kept with the monarch of all time. Without the key, any attempt to open the Vault would cause an auto-destruct magic that would turn everything inside the Vault worthless.

All the three Dukes already estimated the location of the Vault, but Acrisius and Kakia failed to find the key on Penelope, which meant the only suspect holder was Atlanta.

They abruptly ordered a search for the fleeing general. The Vault was a strategical importance given the artifacts and treasures inside it would even be enough to bribe the S-ranker. In a war such as this, the number of S-ranker chipping in was like the number of nuclear war-head. All the dukes need as many advantages as they scrounged up.

Centuria was currently a home to 278,000 troops. 8000 of those are A-rankers and the rest variation of C and A-ranks. Eurystheus control 66,000. Minos 89,000. After absorbing the defector from Penelope’s decimated Royal Army, Acrisius obtained the remaining number, counting for 123,000 strong army of 3000 A-ranker and two out of five active S-rankers under his command.

With those advantages and access to the vault, Acrisius should be able to recruit more S-ranks under his banner, crushed Eurytheus, then conquered Minos. The wind of fortune heavily blew in his favor, up to the successful siege of the Centuria’s capital, every faction fully believed he was about to win a landslide. He even heard healthy news that Eurystheus and the rest of his enemy considered leaving the fight and starting over in Frisnia. He could still remember his confidence when his spies reported a deteriorating morale of Minos’s faction. Even better with Penelope as his tool, the legitimacy of his future dynasty was assured.

The throne of Centuria was within sailing distance, and the wind was in his sail.

Then two mysterious knights dressed in black conjured a hurricane to sink the ship.

Promtus — captured.

Kakia — beaten beyond all recovery.

The army of ten-thousand — marched back utterly defeated for everyone with two-eyes in their skull to see.

Yes, ten-thousand was only one-twelfth of his force. Losing that amount in one skirmish is devastating, but it was recoverable. What wasn’t recoverable was there was no hiding the walk of shame they took back home with their severely injure commander in tow. If they died in an ambush, he could use their death as a propaganda and readjust the strategy. But getting sent home with their defeated commander, that was humiliation.

To make a matter worst, the returning ten-thousand got their bravado and pride beaten out of them so badly it made the army of walking zombie blushed. While Acrisius heard the report first, he was powerless to stop the tale from spreading like a wildfire.

It was a legend of a mysterious guardian arriving to aid a group of powerless humans against an army that outnumbered them 100-to-1. The soft-spoken, humble guardian whose words leaked of excessive humility and meekness. They laughed at him, but they couldn’t laugh anymore. The stranger fulfilled his absurd promise. He bested an army of ten-thousand in an instant, even spared them the killing blow. His army never fully witnessed the battle, but a gigantic fire-giant being tossed over the mountain, amputated and destroyed wasn’t something anyone could miss.

It was a tale straight out of the heroic legend of old. People saw the ground darkened earth and the new sun rose against the cloud of Brimstone as a sky flashed with yellow flames and fire cloud. Alas, the mysterious knight emerged as a victor.

Then there was Kakia.

Kakia was powerful. There was no doubt about it, but the person who bested her was a mystery. The only clue was a golden lightning and light flashing near the area the familiar scarlet wind was last seen.

However, Acrisius wasn’t worried about who broke every bone in the woman's body. He was more worry about the effect it had on the populace.

Kakia was the hated boogeyman, chronically addicted to the abuse of her power and authority. People of all stations feared her, and a huge margin of them clenched their fist and teeth when their friends, daughters and families got taken to her perverse dungeon. Acrisius knew taking her in was a political risk, but the fear she inspired to his enemies and her power and authority more than balanced her demerit. She qualified as an asset when her leash was properly handled. With Promtus beside him and ample of connection to satisfy her extravagant taste, appealing to her should be fine.

And now that decision exploded in his pant.

Her defeat was being celebrated like Christmas came early. Class war stopped overnight. The fractured nation united in tears of celebration when they captured the sight of her bloody body. Acrisius could already hear the echo well-wish and the grateful prayer for their mysterious avenger from his bedroom. Keep this up and there would be a new cult center on the mysterious agent of salvation who vanquished the dreaded Kakia.

Acrisius’ image as a seasoned necessity was being destroyed. If the embodiment of good itself flew from the heaven to help Atlanta and punished Kakia, then Acrisius’ justification for the war looked less like a divine mandate and more like an egomaniac in over his head.

“This is a political shit-show,” Nereo summarized. “And you don’t know where they took Promtus?”

“You spoke like I have a shot of rescuing him from a clutch of two S-rankers we have no information about!”

“We could,” Nereo smiled. “But I need more payment.”

Acrisius growled. He believed he got Nereo worked out. The man was a mercenary researcher from the Isle of Knowledge, and a good one. He was expensive, but the information and performance-enhancing drug he provided to Acrisius army was invaluable. He even gave some connection to weapon supplier as a goodwill. But Acrisius knew Nereo was only interest in the money game like El Acerbia. He was here to make a profit.

“What can you offer?”

“I could bring Kakia back to the board.”

That one took Acrisius by surprise, “You could? But the injury she suffer…”

“Ruptured organ. Multiple Lacerations and impalements. A missing eye. Amputated arm. Many broken bones,” Nereo nodded. “Expensive and troublesome, but within my wheel house. Here, I will even throw in an extra deal. Give me some honorary nobility title. Something with tangible authority after you get the throne and I will even throw in a special deal.”

Acrisius growled, “A mercenary taking a position in my government. You are asking to become a national security risk.”

Nereo smiled, “But I believe the Royal Family’s control over the guardian is more than worth it.”

The Duke blinked.

“What? You mean the legendary guardian beast of the land, but that power already escaped the monarch for ages.”

“It is still there,” Nereo said. “I have a method to awaken it. If it fails, well, you can always kill me anytime you want. What do you have to lose? Penelope? Sure, Kakia might complain, but look at the state she is in.”

Acrisius hesitated for a second, but Nereo pressed more button, “How do you expect to go after this disaster? You know the more decisively you cemented your right-to-rule, the more solid your authority becomes. Acrisius, I know you think I am only in it for money and power. That I am exactly like El Acerbia. A war-profiteer. And you are right. I do care about getting paid.”

Acrisius looked at Nereo in the eye.

“But don’t you realize I win nothing for having you lose. The other Dukes wouldn’t trust me. You are my best customer in Tengen continent. With you gone, I lost every network and cashflow I set-up here. I need you to win. You can at least trust the fact I gain the maximum mileage with you on the throne,” Nereo pitched more sale point.

“Heart-to-heart time,” the researcher said. “I pick out of all the three Dukes, because I believe you have the most solid chance. Eurytheus doesn’t have the number and Minos is weak. You are the closest thing to a strong leader Centuria needed. Who else is more viable for the throne?”

Acrisius understood Nereo was right. He was the best option.

“It up to you, mate. But we are in a pickle right now. You need to decide soon because time won’t wait for us,” Nereo turned toward the door and prepared to leave.

But before he got to the door, Acrisius’ voice rang out.

“Do what you must,” the Duke said.

“Thank you, my friend,” Nereo replied. “I know you will come around.”

…

Anyone who truly understood Nereo would know the entire sale was a lie. The war-profiteer image akin to El Acerbia was something Melosov projected to deceive everyone in his pursuit of knowledge. It gave him a convenient excuse for his action and aided in the manipulation game to attain the opportunity he wanted.

No, Nereo gave as much shit about his pan-continental influence as much as CNN gave about being a pillar of journalism. Yes, the influence was convenience, but nothing compared to the importance of his grand goal of data collection.

However, Melosov’s grand design would come later. Today show was the interrogation of one Praetor Promtus.

…

The former S-ranker didn’t know where he was.

He woke up on a table, shackled to a steel chair with chains. A dim lamp above his head provided a circular source of blinding illumination.

The old man squinted enough to make out the shadowy silhouette of a man sitting at the opposite end of the table, “You...”

“A friend,” the man answered. “You can call me Dream.”

“That is a lie,” Promtus growled.

“Maybe,” Rem said from the shadow. “I want that to be an alternative compare to what I got on the table.”

“Table?”

“Yep, to be honest the situation is downright a mystery. Oh, I know a lot, but not enough.”

Promtus realized his advantage, “You want information.”

“Incorrect,” a multicolor light of his eyes shone from the darkness. “I already have everything you know and witness. What I want is your insight?”

“Insight? You want my advice.”

“Oh god no,” said the man with the eyes that know all. “What I want is your opinion. Your advice worth shit given the fact you abandon a girl who is trying her best to Duke of imminent failure. I only have part of the picture but not a full one, and you, gramp, are the key to figure the rest of the pieces in this puzzle”

Rem’s words were rooted in complete honesty. The reason for this struggle was a simple development in frustration. It was the happenstance that would later send the rest of Phantasia into a panic.

[Clairvoyance] had been blinded.

A haze of thick mist had descended onto the very Phantasia itself. The usual freedom for Rem to find the truth of all things and witness the future turned faulty. If [Clairvoyance] was a report file, most of the access he used to enjoy like the search function got heavily gimped and the document got mostly redacted.

The war between Malice and the Center Force turned fabric of possibility into an incomprehensible soup. No one could navigate the map on the macroscale anymore.

Thankfully, the microscale was still working. Rem could crack people like a safe and beat anyone short of the high-risk target by simulating his next moves to a perfect degree. The problem was scale. Five seconds forward of future vision was no problem. An hour and things turned grim. A day was asking for trouble. More than that, and it became downright impossible.

Then there was Rem most useful skill; ability to scan the present for threat. Nope. It appeared life couldn’t give him a universal alarm. A fog blanketed the entire map. It was like a game of MOBA where the fog of war covered the entire battlefield. Sure, Astral Projection allowed him to get around that, but it was inconvenient and required to do actual reconnaissance.

Past-Vision? That one also got gimped. One annoying Vampire outright shrugged most of those abilities. And he needed a face-to-face meeting to look at the past, and it could only be done from their perspective. For example, he could look at Promtus’ history from the time he was a baby to what he had for yesterday dinner, but using him as a ladder to browse Acrisius was downright impossible. Rem was still trying to find a method around this.

This meant he couldn’t get a reading on the subject most alarming to his concern.

“I want your perspective on the man named Nereo Melosov.”