Archibald walked through a wrecked town. Buildings were collapsed, trees were uprooted, and the smell of smoke filled the air. The ground was still covered in a layer of ash and dust, with shards of glass scattered about.

He pushed up his glasses and saw the singular man standing near the harbor.

"Why'd you call me here?" Archibald asked.

General Anderson turned to face Archibald. He smiled and gestured for him to come closer. The general wore the same uniform as always. Navy blue adorned with white and gold, and the dozen and a half medal ribbons across his chest.

Archibald sighed as he stared at the old general. He approached him, standing beside him, facing the lake before them as the sun's pale light glistened down.

"Did you come alone?" the general asked.

"Well, that's what you told me to do," Archibald said, letting out another sigh.

He smiled. "Weren't you worried I might have you killed?"

"And why would I be killed?"

"Because you're an insubordinate annoyance."

"Ha. If that were it, you would've killed me a long time ago. Well... tried to. Besides," Archibald said. "I'm useful to you. Useful for humanity."

The general nodded. "That's exactly right, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Don't call me that. I hate how I'm given a rank just because I'm a Paladin. It's annoying."

"Let me ask you a question," Anderson said, turning to Archibald.

Archibald pushed up his glasses and let out another deep sigh. "Still haven't told me why we're here, but okay."

"Charles Archibald... are you planning a coup d'etat?"

Archibald spat out a sigh. "Why'd you have to use a French word?" he mumbled. "But no," he said. "Why the hell would I do that? You know I hate political power. Besides, if I were, I'd kill you right now."

General Anderson glared at the Paladin. "...You can't."

"Wanna bet?"

"..."

Before long, the general smiled, soon cracking into laughter. His chortling echoed across the torn city.

"I know you, Charles Archibald," he said, ceasing his laughter, meeting his eyes with the Paladin. "You've done good things for us. Humanity, I mean. But what you do and what you've done... It illustrates your weak points. No matter what, you cannot betray what you love."

The general continued.

"Family, friends, romance. These are all emotional attachments that must be cut. You know that. But you're incapable of severing them. That makes you weak. You... are unworthy of being a leader. Even so... That is precisely why I trust you, Charles Archibald. You can't betray your friends. You will never be a threat to me."

Archibald's face remained stale and expressionless. "Is this the part where you reveal your leverage over me?"

Again, the general smiled. He chuckled softly. "No, I didn't plan any of that for today."

"Lazy bastard."

"Oh, don't be like that. I'm a busy man."

They fell silent and stared off at the lake. By now, the sun was hidden behind a seemingly endless layer of dull grey clouds.

"On to the next topic..."

"Sheesh, you're talkative today."

"The Golden Dawn is something we have to discuss," the General said.

"Y'know what? Sure. What about them?"

"They're dangerous."

Archibald scoffed. "Wow, I wonder who told you the exact same thing more than five months ago?"

"...Fair enough," Anderson said. "How much do you know about them?"

The Paladin smiled. He remained silent until he sat himself down on a chunk of stone rubble, still staring outward at the crystal lake. "The Golden Dawn-" he said, turning his head to the general. "-has over two dozen High-Grades on their side."

"And we're gonna take them down," Archibald continued. "Not the Magecraft Association. Not you, either. But the Paladins. And the Virtues."

"Do you even have a solid plan?"

"Of course I do." Archibald raised his head and smiled. "Besides, they always underestimate humanity."

"Yeah, I know. But what if the information's stale?" he asked. "What if that intelligence is wrong?"

The Paladin squinted. "Why would it be? Adam knows what he's doing."

"Well... don't you think it's strange how he volunteered to go over there? To 'spy' on the Golden Dawn?"

"What are you implying, Anderson?"

"Adam's had a tough life. He fits their M.O. These are trying times, Charles. You can't just trust everyone who-"

"Are you questioning his loyalty?" Archibald asked, his voice stale, his eyes grim.

The general chuckled and coughed. "Yes. I am, actually. But furthermore... I'm questioning your sanity."

Archibald glared at the general. "Well, then..." he muttered. "Surely-" Archibald began to raise his voice. "-surely, you wouldn't mind fighting me, now, right?" he asked, raising his palm at Anderson.

"As willing as I am," he said. "I know I can't hold a candle to your power. I may be a stubborn old bastard, but I'm not a fool."

The general pointed a finger at the sky. "Besides... there are more issues. I'm sure you've noticed."

Archibald looked up. "Yeah."

"Two months ago, a Gateway formed in the sky. A-rank. Took only two and a half days to open instead of the usual seven. 600 or so deaths. And now there's another one forming as we speak. It'll be complete in a week or two. And it'll probably open two days after that."

"So you want me to handle it? Is that it?" Archibald asked, still fixated on the massive amount of magic energy hovering above their heads.

"Well, yeah, but that's not my point." The general coughed. "Listen. Gateways connect Midgard and other realms to the OtherWorld. Now people say the OtherWorld, but we all know it's specifically the UnderWorld. Because there are always monsters inside. That's what happened here," he said, turning to the wreckage and destruction all around them.

"But I suppose you could say that's the price we pay to live in this magical society. Because, y'know, it's not entirely a bad thing."

Archibald stared at the general with stale eyes. "Are you saying... that 600 deaths aren't entirely a bad thing?"

"Not what I said," the general said, reaching into his coat pocket, pulling out a crumpled box of cigarettes. He placed it in his mouth and ignited it with his lighter. "Want one?" he asked Archibald.

"Dude, you're like sixty. You're ruining your lungs."

Anderson laughed at that remark. Archibald seemed visibly older than him. That was enough to make him forget who he really was.

"But still," the general continued. "The deaths are horrible. But Gateways have created an industry. We can harvest the magic energy and remnants from the inside. We have hunters to kill the monsters and destroy the Gateways. That's what I meant," he said, letting a puff of smoke from his lips.

"Are we done here?" Archibald asked, standing up from his rock. "I have a meeting to get to."

Anderson smiled and tossed the cigarette to the ground. "Oh, is it the kids again?" he asked.

"Why does everyone call them 'the kids'? But yeah. It's them."

As the general stamped his foot onto the cigarette, he smiled. "You had no real reason to show up today. But since you did, I hope you keep in mind what I've said."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Archibald said, letting out a sigh. "Just let me know when this Gateway completely forms."

And with that and a distortion of light, Charles Archibald disappeared.

- - - - -

Alexander Lane was doing nothing. As one does.

And yet again, a bright light flashed in his eyes. With that, he appeared to be sitting in Archibald's office. Archibald sat right in front of him.

Alexander spat out a sigh as soon as he realized what had happened. "You really gotta stop doing that, man," he said.

Archibald only smiled.

"Do you know what sorcery is, Alexander?" he asked.

"...Did you really bring me here to ask me that?"

"No, we have a meeting."

Alexander squinted and stared at his watch. "Oh, right. Forgot about that."

"So-" Archibald clasped his hands together. "-sorcery. What do you know about it?"

"It's basically magic, isn't it?"

"Well..." the Paladin said. "Yes and no."

"Sorcery is innate. It's... genetic," Archibald continued. "It can't be improved, taught, learned, and so on and so forth. So it doesn't require magic energy. It's pretty great to have it."

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You're a Demon-Born," he said plainly.

"Oh."

Archibald didn't know if he had phrased that the wrong way. "But listen. Your father had sorcery. So I'm sure you do, too. That's why I brought you here early."

"So how do I know what sorcery I have?" Alexander let out a soft gasp. "Does this mean I'm gonna be able to do something badass? Like, I'm tired of only being able to punch stuff. Don't get me wrong, it's awesome. But everyone else has insane stuff they can do."

"Well, like I said: It's genetic. So probably not."

Alexander flattened himself against his seat and let out a deep sigh. "Man, I just really wanted to be able to do a fireball."

Archibald chuckled. He understood that feeling.

"Well, either way... You're probably capable of much more."

Alexander's ears perked up.

"Your father, for example, had fire resistance. Among other things."

"So does that mean I have that? Fire resistance? 'Cause that would go a long way for beating someone like Leonard."

Archibald chuckled.

"What?"

"No, it's just that you slew a Prince of Hell before having your own affinity before you even knew what you were doing. You're a real talented kid, you know that? So let's test it, shall we?" he asked, his hand bursting in scarlet flames.

"Your hand, please."

Alexander extended his hand, reaching over the flame. "Wait, Archibald, you have flame magic? I thought you just had spatial magic."

"There's a lot of things that aren't known by the public. Either way, you seem to be holding up pretty well," he said, glancing at Alexander's burning hand.

"Honestly, I can still feel the heat. But other than that, it's fine."

Archbald recalled Voltaire's words when she described Furcas. 'This kid...' Alexander could be capable of so much more. And as of now, there was no way of knowing. The Paladin smiled.

"Alright, so you have fire resistance," he said, his smile widening. He snapped his fingers and the crimson flames disappeared. "Plus, your slightly superhuman physical capabilities. Considering your father's abilities, and the legends of Furcas, you could have all kinds of sorcery and abilities. For now, just settle for that."

'Slightly superhuman'.

Archibald knew that was an understatement, but Alexander seemed happy at that remark.

"So..." Alexander said. "What was it that you said about a mission? Or missions, as in plural?"

Archibald glanced at his watch. "One minute. I told Anastasia to bring the others here at 3 PM sharp. She's pretty punctual so-"

The door burst open. "I was almost late because of Leonard," she muttered.

"My transporter broke. Sorry," Leonard said, waving at the Paladin as he nervously chuckled.

"Where's everyone else?" Anastasia asked, sitting down beside Alexander.

Archibald smiled as Leonard tossed him the silver rectangle. He caught it. "Yeah, they're probably late. Well... there's still a minute."

Anastasia turned to Alexander. She squinted. "How'd you get here so early?"

He didn't want to tell her that it was unexpected, so to maintain the facade of punctual superiority, Alexander simply smiled.

Again, the door burst open.

The four remaining Virtues passed through.

Gabriel almost tripped as he walked to sit down. He pretended that it hadn't happened and sat down.

Alexander squinted at him in confusion. Gabriel didn't react.

'Fair enough.'

As they all sat down, Archibald smiled. "So now that you're all here..." he said.

Archibald reached into his coat and pulled out a metallic, hexagonal device.

The same from all those months ago, when Archibald showed them the Princes of Hell.

Again, he pressed his finger against it as he set it on the table, and again, the room's lights began to dim.

"The universe has a natural flow. Water destroys fire. Paper kills rock. The big fish eats the small fish. And the same is true with energy. Just as demonic energy can harm beings from the OverWorld, holy energy is effective against the UnderWorld. As above, so below. And so... holy weaponry may be the most effective weapons in your fight against the Princes of Hell."

"There are dozens of holy swords throughout the world. And at the apex stands Excalibur. Alexander, you recall what happened to Belphegor when he came into with it, correct?"

"Yeah, his hand burned," Alexander said. "Kinda like it was melting."

"Exactly right. Simply the fact that you can touch Excalibur without any harmful effects is surprising. And that's nothing more is a miraculous advantage for us."

"Which is why..." he continued. "Your next missions will be to obtain these weapons. I know the next demon, Asmodeus, will be summoned in less than two weeks. But these are simple missions. It'll be much easier to achieve victory like this."

And so, from the shining lights, images of swords materialized. Only three. They were different lengths and widths, their scabbard and hilts were different colors, and each blade had a different glow.

Archibald pointed to the one at the left. "Ascalon, the dragon-slaying weapon of Saint George," he said.

He traced his fingers across the others. "Durendal, the earth-splitting sword of Roland, the first Paladin. And of course, Excalibur, which is King Arthur's."

"Wait, that's it?" Gabriel asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You gave the other two super cool titles. 'Dragon-Slayer' and 'Earth-Splitter' but nothing about Excalibur?"

Archibald chuckled. "You'd be surprised."

"Personally, I think it would be best if you all had one each, but y'know not all of you use swords. Now-" Archibald clapped his hands together. "I have full faith in you all," he said with a smile.

- - - - -

Xerxes Agnes stood atop a building, staring at the seemingly endless cityscape of Pendragon, the capital of the Norteon Union.

He gazed outward from the top of the Magecraft Association's headquarters. From the hundredth floor of the Centro Centum. Xerxes parted his curtained brown hair as he exhaled, a cloud of cigarette smoke following his breath.

Xerxes stood almost motionless, pondering on the Golden Dawn and the Age of Tribulation itself.

"Mr. Chairman?" a voice behind him asked.

"What is it?" he asked, raising his cigarette back to his mouth. "It's not my office hours, so make it quick."

A young man dressed in a dark blue uniform looked at his clipboard. "The Paladins have met more than a dozen times in the past month and a half. Plus, with all that's going on with Hohenheim, it's-

Xerxes chuckled. "Well, then. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" he asked, pushing his rectangular glasses up, his pale skin glistening in the orange glow of the glowing orb descending from the sky. The setting sun.

"Sir?"

He sighed, letting out another cloud of smoke. "It's been a bit chilly lately, hasn't it?"

The young man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, before repeating, "Sir?"

Smiling, Xerxes responded, "Don't worry about it. Just get me an appointment with Charles Archibald."

Xerxes tossed his cigarette to the ground as the man turned and walked away.

Again, he pushed his glasses upward, his eyes glinting with anticipation.