“Flame… of Faust?”

“Just a moniker. Nothing too serious.” She chuckled.

Mido heard Aurelia’s statement, but he cannot help but notice the atmosphere inside the moon-lit room gradually became colder. Woodcarver remained unfazed, but both Leva and Shear’s bodies became stiff as if something bothered them.

‘Tch. Aurelia slipped up, didn’t she?’ Woodcarver thought, waiting in anticipation as the room fell into silence.

“Oi, oi…” Leva stood up from her chair, its wooden legs creaking as the weight from her buttocks were lifted. “What do you mean, ‘Flame of Faust?’ You didn’t tell us we were dealing with Faustian matters, lady.”

“You’re hiding something.” Shear noted, as he silently dragged his fingers along the hilt of his sword.

Aurelia froze in place, her dark dress waved from the slight breeze that flowed from the open balcony. Tension rose inside the room. Mido did not know what to do. He’s injured, exhausted, and most of all, unknowing of their location.

“Faustian… Wh-what…?” He stammered, unable to comprehend anything, the lady looming over him still.

Aurelia giggled. As if another persona of hers surfaced.

“To be fair, I thought you were only a speck. A battery, of tones. Ah. But I did not expect the Flame to land in here. Finally, what was lost has now come back to us. Not in the hands of that humbled Doctor, anyway…” Her incessant mumbling only served to unnerved the three, with Woodcarver, knowing her lady’s every antic after her years of service, only gripped the wooden desk she sat on.

Something was about to happen…

“What is this? Flame? Doctor?!” Leva grasped her chest, the breeze going through her jacket.

“Flame of Faust… if I remember correctly…” Shear closed his eyes, gasped, and when he finally caught wind of it, goosebumps overtook his skin.

“Y-you’re… There’s no mistake.” In a heartbeat, Shear’s blade extended against Aurelia’s throat. Mido was startled, fumbling to escape her clutch. At the same time, Leva, sensing danger, gritted her teeth and cocked her gun in instinct, pointing it against Woodcarver, while the latter warped the wooden furniture around her in a symphony of creaks, splinters, and twists, converging on the two mercenaries.

“Shear. What is this?!” Leva’s lips shuddered as he spoke. Four of them were stuck in a standoff.

“Woodcarver!” Shear yelled. “If I were you, you need to stay away from this woman. She’s more than just a Void Vassal, she’s—”

“I know.” Woodcarver coldly replied, maintaining her coils against the two.

“What…”

“That my lady is not from here. Not from Alto. That she’s someone from across the ocean. I know she has the blood of the people who shed our own. Yes, I know she’s a Faustian.”

“Tch!” Leva’s eyes watered as that name entered her ears. The grip in her gun softened as she struggled to fight her anger away.

“Then… You have a family too, right? Lost to them, those people that waged war on us.” That same anger manifested in Shear’s blade as he flayed his free hand, pointing to Aurelia’s near-maniacal stupor.

“I’m sorry, Shear. I don’t have the same life as you. Aurelia saved my life, that’s why I’m going to stand by her side until I breathe my last.”

“Mhmm… Hahahaha~!” Aurelia cackled; the worst side of her surfaced.

“You do know your history, don’t you, Shear?” She pointed at him with her pale finger, intimidating him.

“Indeed: I am a Faustian. Throughout my years of living with you Alto lot, I’ve always heard that incessant babbling. You really have the feel for holding grudges from decades ago…”

Shear opened her lips. “You relentlessly advanced through the coasts… slaughtering everyone. Glassing our homes and people alike with that substance of yours. All for your expansion and that corrupted crystal you call ‘ichor.’ I remember their faces, their cries for mercy, as I hid…”

“Shear… we need to get out of here,” Leva whispered.

“You’re bleeding for vengeance, but you’re raising your sword against someone who only has their blood. Trust me, mercenary. You have nothing to gain from this endeavor; only the loss of your life.” The glow in her eyes intensified. An ominous fog slowly coalesced from thin air around them.

“Your kind was already doomed in my eyes from the start, Aurelia.”

“Don’t do this, you two.” Woodcarver pleaded. “You take pride in respecting your client’s identity and privacy, right?”

“I’ll be willing to renounce it, just to prove justice. Won’t you, Leva?”

Leva was considering, but seeing that leaving his partner behind will only delay her doom…

“I have no qualms.”

“Hmph, then so be it—”

Firis.

Aurelia’s face was smacked by a fireball that came from Mido’s hand, stumbling from the chair and to the floor from the recoil. He had mustered enough strength to unleash a plume that stunned the lady, and cripple Woodcarver’s ability a bit. Seeing this window of opportunity, the two immediately reacted.

Windshear, Tenfold Cuts.

Translocational Armament.

Shear unleashed a hail of slashes across Aurelia’s body, flaying her pale skin with hollow slices. Many were blocked by both Woodcarver and her shades that formed from the fog. Leva used this distraction to launch a barrage of bullets that immediately hit Woodcarver’s crude shield. She winced, sustaining a gash from her arm.

‘Those bullets, they’re unnatural! It’s as if she teleports them immediately to the expected area where the bullets will hit!’

Aurelia’s ‘wounds’ made her unmoving for seconds, giving the two ample time to carry Mido and descend the building through a flight of stairs.

The two panted, with Shear carrying Mido, he took the brunt of the weight.

“Kid. We made a mistake giving you to this woman.”

“Why…?”

“You’re the Flame of Faust, according to Aurelia. Only Faustians and studying scholars know that deep. If my bet is correct, you carry something of importance to this lady. That’s why she’s attracted to you like flies to food.”

“Does that mean you’re Faustian too, Shear? You know about that Flame too…” Leva asked skeptically.

“I’m not. I researched so much about them that I stumbled upon that information. And from the looks of it, something bad will happen if we were to hand him to a Faustian like her.” He explained.

The building’s state like a maze. Clutter littered everywhere, and the two had to dodge through the whole lot of it. The strange howling, akin to a blizzard storm, from Aurelia’s ability, pierced their ears.

“Leva! Where’s Pierre? He needs to get away from her too!”

“That wimp! I don’t care a skin about him. Let him fend for himself!”

Shear went silent for a second as they ran through a library of books and an office room. Fortunately, however, the entrance doors came to their sights, just a dash away.

“Tch. It can’t be helped. We’re almost out of this building. Hang on, Mido!” Shear said as he unsheathed his blade with one hand. With a cut, the wood became brittle, enough so that Shear can ram through it unscathed.

The doors gave way, and they were immediately greeted by the large, empty plaza of the city. The moon governed the sky, glaring at the glossy marble pavement with its ethereal glow. It was eerily empty as their footsteps echoed beneath the incessant, guttural howls. The two scanned the area when Mido groaned, likely from the pain he had since he used that ability of his.

Hearing this, Leva quickly checked him.

“Oh no… Shear. The guy’s looking bad.”

“I know. We need to take him back to Vassal United. As much as I hate to say this, but we need to face them. We don’t have the manpower to fight those two.”

“We’re already enemies on their eyes, Shear. I’m worried.” She was genuinely concerned, but looking at their state, they had no choice but to do it.

“Let’s go—”

Shear was interrupted by a howl. Shades formed from the fog, but Shear quickly cut through them before they can fully form. Leva trailed from his back, guarding the rear.

“Stay away from the trees. Woodcarver might still control them.” Shear noted.

“Okay!”

They ran through the wide plaza, but the fog is still thick. Fortunately, however, Shear memorized the route they took going to and from it. It took them minutes to navigate the fog, however, but they saw silhouettes and voices.

“Gods, how thick is this fog? Where does this come from?”

“Shh, Gris! I heard footsteps. Not from ours.”

“It’s them.” Shear whispered to Leva.

“How should we play this? Should we leave him here and scram?”

“I’m not that dull. We need to stop Aurelia here and now, and we need help from these people. Even if it takes down my pride.”

“Shit! They’re coming here.”

The silhouettes’ figures started to emerge from the fog. What greeted them were all of the six members of D-7, straddling through the thickness of it.

“Uhh.. hai?” Leva was the first to initiate. She let down her aggressive demeanor against them.

“Fein.” Gen readied his shield.

“The mercenaries. Where’s Mido?” Fein asked.

“Right here.” Shear sternly nodded and presented Mido to them.

All of them were rightfully shocked.

“M-Mido!” Wiz was struck by Mido’s state. Her body involuntarily made her run to him, but she was stopped by Shear’s blade. She was quickly pulled back by Sora, who stumbled against her in the process. By reaction, D-7 armed themselves against the two.

“We have a proposition.”

“Captain, what should we do?” Enna asked, gun trailing Leva’s head. “They have Mido, but they might…”

“Let’s hear it.” Fein did not hesitate.

“Wait! Do you hear that?” Sora said. They all stood silent. The low droning howl from the fog worsened as time passed.

“What the—look out!” Gris yelled as a shadowy figure rushed against him. Gen bashed it with his shield, sending the shade back into the fog. In response, more shades came to attack them.

“Not here, Vassal United. We must stay away from both the fog and the trees.”

They all huffed as they settled inside an abandoned building. Using a small lighter, Gris lit up a candle as Shear set the ailing Mido on a bed. They seemed to get along on the outside, but tensions still prevented them to have a conversation.

Eventually, the captain broke the ice.

“Why don’t you introduce yourselves first so we can have a civil conversation, mercenaries?”

The two looked each other in the eye.

“I’m Shear, and this is Leva. We’re mercenaries from Frostfall, and we apologize for our damages to that Vassal haven-- scratch that. For letting this city become a shithole.”

Settling on a wall to lean on, Sora took a glance at the girl. Suddenly, the name struck him.

“L-Leva?” Goosebumps grew on Sora as he whispered. She looked at the bonnet-wearing, peach-haired petite girl beside Shear, and so did she.

“Eh? You must be…”

“Sora? What was it?” Enna nudged him.

“…It’s nothing.” Sighing, he put his hands on the pockets of his suit and acted smug the rest of the conversation.

“You may notice that we set aside Mido on your corner.” Shear noted.

“Yes, we do,” Fein replied.

“Good. I don’t want you to think that this is a trap.

“Which seems to be the case.”

“It’s not.” Leva raised her voice. “Aurelia Vita, the lady you seek, is a Faustian Vassal.”

Those streaks of information shook D-7. Her name, especially her race, was of utmost importance to them, and the very mercenaries that worked under her helm divulged it as quick as a hare.

As if the action was second nature, Sora immediately jutted down the words that came out of Leva’s all-too-familiar voice, now that conflict between them simmered down.

“Hmm. I’m intrigued.” Fein said, resting his hands on a table. “First, you deliberately entrust your captive to the very people that seek to take him back, and now, you divulge your client’s information to the same people that chase her. Something tells me you mercenaries have no sense of loyalty whatsoever. Which makes me more vigilant against you two.”

“Faustians do not deserve loyalty.” Shear sternly looked on the ground. “People like her slaughtered our people on the coasts. That fact alone is something we can agree on, Vassal United.”

“We rescinded our contract against Aurelia by going against her. And now, she and Woodcarver are hunting us down. But most especially Mido.”

“Mido? What’s so special about him, anyway?” Enna asked.

“According to the lady, he’s the ‘Flame of Faust.’ My early research said that it is a Vassal-borne power of immense tonal capacity.”

“He’s a Faustian? Mido?” Wiz reluctantly asked Shear.

He respectfully disagreed. “Just let me finish. The Flames were theorized to be an ancient ability, but no one saw it for sure. Likely, this ability is similar to that one, which surfaced on Mido, following some sort of traumatic experience, just like how some abilities manifest into a Vassal.”

Bringing back to that fateful encounter on the town, Fein thought that, the moment they rescued Mido and took him into Vassal United was the moment D-7 fell through a rabbit hole, one which they may never come back. If Mido had the ability of Faustian origin, there will be greater ramifications at stake. Who knows who else is trying to find this particular ability?

Waking back from his deep thought, Fein decided to trust the man’s words, just this once.

“Flames of Faust… Mido has that distinct, golden flame as his ability, so it might be true. I share your fear, Shear; Something must be important in him, and I can’t let a Void Vassal touch him.”

“Then we’re on the same page.” Shear sighed and braced himself. “We… killed some of your men. A recon group. I know apologies are out of the question, but two are still alive, unguarded on a villa Aurelia made as her base of operations.”

“Speak,” Fein said and signaled Gris to ready coordinate transmissions back to command. The Beaver was far away from their position, but their comms and a portable tower Gris stored in his gem were enough.

Shear did not hesitate in giving the details, as well as the rough coordinates of the villa. Gris promptly threw data into his comms, channeling back to command. Leva stood in her place. The others took guard on the windows for any signs of the fog, as Wiz tried to lift Mido up. Sora helped her.

“Sora, we need to find a tree.”

“Okay, Wiz. Hang on, Mido…”

They descended the stairs and opened a door into a small opening. Luckily, a tree stood tall as a natural decoration. The building circled much of their vicinity in a U-shape, much like the haven, albeit smaller. The view of the road slipped through the cracks of the brick wall in front of them.

The two grunted as they propped up Mido beside the tree.

“There… we go! He’s so heavy…” Wiz grunted. She proceeded to tidy him up before looking at his body. His dark veins were still there. His bags were heavier now, and his eyes were slightly red.

“Wiz?” He said, weakly.

“I’m here, Mido. I’m here…” She consoled, kneeling beside him and grabbing his hand tightly.

“Don’t heal me. I… I can manage this—” He pleaded, before coughing.

“Your ability sapped plenty of your tones. It’s okay. I won’t use my life. I promise.” Her soft, consoling voice tamed his heart. He sighed, before leaning on the tree behind him. Her voice was the coos of a nightingale, her emerald eyes brimming with concern over him. She leaned in closer, before using her ability to gradually sap the tree’s life force and turn it into a malleable one to heal Mido’s wounds.

Giving them a sense of respect and privacy, Sora let go and leaned on one of the columns, guarding them both with his eye, staring at the moonlit night.

‘You grew too fond of him, Wiz. I guess… I need to accept that fact myself.’

As he breathed in deep, Sora sensed a presence behind him.

“What a bizarre opportunity to see you here, Sora.”

Leva put her bonnet gently on a table and fixed her hair. Sora did not look back.

“Are you really her?”

“Hm~ What do you think?” She asked. Cheerful, but melancholic. She smiled neutrally, but Sora could not see it.

“The one with whom I ate soup with every day?”

She slowly remembered the warmness of it.

“The one who played with me and the others?”

Her smiles from those days wanted to resurface, but was too deep, and cannot make it.

“The one who always played in the snow, and I had to scold her?”

She saw the little angels she made and was proud of until a certain boy grabbed her hand and made her come back inside the house.

“The one who had a bizarre liking for guns… so much that the orphanage wanted to kick her out?”

She remembered. She found parts of a gun and tinkered with it. People found out, and a certain boy had to defend him.

“Ahh~ You didn’t have to do that one…”

“Yet I did. And you’re a mercenary now.”

Sora finally faced her. He smiled when he saw her small stature.

“Oi. If it’s about my height, deal with it.” She crossed her hands.

“I can’t believe it…” Sora chuckled. “We actually went against each other. I might’ve killed you, you know.”

“Meh~ You’re slow!” Leva scolded.

What he said was serious, but the two laughed it off. Something of that statement felt like a joke to them that it made them laugh. When their laughter subsided, however, they came to terms with reality.

“How did you escape that orphanage, anyway?”

“I wouldn’t say escape… I was adopted, Sora~”

“You mean hired. By Frostfall.”

“Tch! It’s still the same, silly. Not unlike you, who had to run away.”

Sora looked down, which actually made Leva a bit sad.

“I’m sorry. It was for your safety; I had to keep you away from it. But none of this would’ve come into place when we ran away together…”

“C’mon! Stop reminiscing already… you romantic fuck.” Leva lifted his head, but she was greeted by the face of a crying, regretful boy.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” He repeated those words on and on, sobbing.

“Stop… being such a fucking… softie…” Leva tried to hide her tears, but she couldn’t. It took her enough time before she too became soft. She wanted to embrace him so badly.

And she did. And she did not want to leave.

“I… I always wanted to see you again, but please. Not in a situation like this, okay? Let’s… let’s eat together sometime. After all of this…” Sobbing, she hanged her head on Sora’s shoulders.

“If… If I can, I’ll take you to Henwales. It’s a nice city. We’ll see the sights, walk around town together, and—”

Before he could finish, Leva stopped Sora’s mouth with her finger.

“Okay, okay~ Just… not today, okay? Frostfall still needs me, but…”

“Leva…”

“I’ll always remember that, big bro…”

Leva’s spunky personality on the battlefield only served as her face on the surface. In reality, she is a soft girl, drafted into a mercenary group at a young age, using her attitude as a mask. Sora, a Vassal from the orphanage she lived in together with other orphans, became her only semblance to a true brother. A true family.

He’s the only person that can piece her feelings together, and coherently put them into place as her ‘brother’. True, their reunion being of two opposing sides came out as bizarre in itself, but it’s a wholesome reunion nonetheless.

“Damn~ You’re taller than me, Sora!”