Dragee was even more in a pitch than what he wished for. Unequipped, no weapons handing at his waist, no buckler attached to his forearm, not even the chainmail he had to remove for the experiment, only wearing a shirt, pants and shoes while he rested. And confronting him would be an assassin that was either stupid enough to bring himself in broad light, skilful enough to arrogantly show himself, or desperately eager to leave this place and, as he previously mentioned, let no witness stay alive.

Shaking behind his back, Friture stood motionless, not averting his eyes from the enemy. He should… Right, he should calm down. But he couldn’t. What if… What if this was his last remaining day? Would he really perish here, inside the research center, stabbed to death by the rival nation’s spy? Just the day following the moment he discovered a way to prevent death, he would be about to cross the boundary that separated the living from the dead. What irony.

Would he… Would he really die here? He was still so young. He still had so much more to accomplish on this ground. Couldn’t he… Wasn’t it somehow possible to postpone it? No. Of course not. Why would an assassin gladly wait for his target to serenely finish his last objectives in life, before trespassing under the ire of his dagger? Of course that wouldn’t happen. He would helplessly end his course here and now… Then, his glare laid on Dragee’s shoulders. He too was shaking. Slightly, but still.

After all, even as a full-fledged soldier, even as a knight-in-training, how could he not fear death? Everybody feared death. Everybody wanted to live for another day. It was just that, sometimes, one’s own life was more important than another. And to preserve it, you would either have to sacrifice someone’s, or murder your opponent with your own hands. This was also part of what Dragee still had to learn on the battleground. This was still the part of war he had trouble dealing with.

“… So… You’re just going to stand there, right?...”

Masterfully playing with his sharp weapon on the edge of his fingers, Peche locked his eyes on the body of his opponent. Kind of young, lacking confidence, and not wearing any arm or armour under that shirt. It was still plausible that a tiny blade was hidden between the elastic of the pant, but he doubted that was the case here. Curiously, things went better than he expected.

That was good. Real good. But he didn’t let it fool himself. He was still on enemy territory, and unfortunately he did met some resistance on the way here. They died as silently as he could, however time was too short to clean the mess. The best he could hope now was that nobody found the corpses lazily lying on the floor and…

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIH!!!

… And it’s gone! Great! He clicked his tongue in annoyance, leaving him with only so much time to narrow down his number of action for this round.

“… Well, someone found the corpses. I bet I have…. What? Five minutes, before they send in the guards...?”

Maybe even less if they hear Dragee or Friture shooting. Closing the doors was exactly for the purpose of chocking their muffles, but he didn’t expect them to be soundproof. Having learnt the plan of the center, and quite well knowing how the military was organized in this sector, Peche calculated and set the timer in his head for how much time he had before having to disappear from here.

Five minutes… That was way more than enough to take care of two more bodies, right?

He seized a chair with his free hand, then threw it at Dragee in a way that looked very easy. Stupefied by this show of strength, yet not backing down, the apprentice caught the chair in the air… Just in time to block the fast-paced stab from the enemy. The blade pierced the seat, but quickly retreated and had its trajectory readjusted, before being blocked again in the same way. The pattern repeated itself several times, but they both knew the chair would eventually break under the damage.

“Friture! Run away!”

That was the best move he could think of in the fire of the fight. He was clearly at a disadvantage, and the best thing he could do against this assassin was blocking his blade with a frail chair. Brought back to reality, Friture looked right then left, then departed for a room behind the kitchen to hide himself.

Okay. All Dragee needed to do now was buy as much time as necessary… But looking at the badly damaged shield he was holding, he decided to drop it on Peche, gaining a very limited yet extremely precious amount of time. Just enough to move aside, cast his arm, grab the nearest item in the vicinity, and pared the dagger with a pan.

“… Seriously? A pan...?”

“Eh eh…”

It sure looked ridiculous, however it seemed to play a good job as an improvised weapon. Like this, they exchanged blows after blows. Peche mounting the furniture to try and flank Dragee, who did his best to deflect the slashes aiming at his neck or his vitals. This spy sure knew where to hit, but the apprentice was still better at melee combat.

Somewhere between their combos, Dragee caught a glimpse in his enemy’s movement, and managed to land a hit in the face. It produced a loud sound, sending back Peche who seemed half-stunned… And half-annoyed. A victory song echoed in Dragee’s head, telling him that he could do it at this pace.

“… Ahhh, damn it… I’m starting to be short on time…”

Due to some futile and unexpected resistance from a certain naked soldier, Peche lost more than a dozen of opportunities to quickly finish his job. Harassed by a mere bug, he grabbed the powder inside his pocket, and threw it at Dragee’s eyes. The sudden gesture from his opponent took him off-guard, and turned him blind for a few winks. But this was more than enough time to…

“Ugh!”

A sharp pain invaded his forearm. His eyesight suppressed, he still did his best to avoid any stupid blunder, and swung his pan in every direction in order to give him the time to remove the grains in his eyes.

“… Don’t be stupid…”

Then. It became too much to bear.

“… It’ll just make it more painful…”

The blade pierced his skin, perforating a couple of organs and landing not far from the spine. To make sure his prey would definitely stop thinking about struggling, he twisted the blade many times inside the wound, broadening the opening while letting more and more blood flowing out of the cut.

It just… It was too much for Dragee. They never got stabbed during the training, even while duelling nothing bad happened to any one of them. This day, this instant truly marked him, teaching him that, sometimes, you couldn’t swim against the flow. How much time did his courageous deeds made them spent in this fight? Were the five minutes already elapsed? Where are the reinforcements? Damn they were late…

And just when Peche was raising his dagger to terminate his opponent, he suddenly received a weak hit on his head. Reacting instantly and switching back to battle mode, he… Almost laughed, noticing that he now was confronting his second and last target: Friture Elmar, the man who discovered a method to utilize the divine energy, and the one who named the project it was based upon. The man at the source of everything was holding a broom in his hand.

What the heck was he hoping to contribute in this fight, he scowled himself internally. He was no fighter, and had virtually no mean to help Dragee in this situation. Well, at least he attracted his attention, so maybe Dragee would be able to stay alive? That was the sole consolation he could find in this nightmarish situation.

“… Well, game over for you… Sorry...?”

Peche seized the young researcher’s arm, disarming him from his pathetic weapon and resolve, then raised the dagger and ended another life this day.

… Or so he thought, but a powerful punch threw him aside, before being pushed against the ground by a remarkable weight… By someone who was profusely bleeding on his back.

“Dragee!”

“I still can fight!”

The apprentice knight, with his new-found strength, did his best to neutralize the assassin by applying as much weight as possible. The problem was he was struggling under his grip, and his fatigue only made it harder to fight back.

“Release me! I’ll cut you to pieces!”

“Not today, scum!”

Brutally slammed against the floor by a foot, Peche almost lost consciousness under this abrupt and immense might he was now facing. Just who? Just who was able to possess this much strength in this place?

“G… General…?”

… Oh, right. Well, shit.

Peche resigned himself to his fate. He understood it clearly, he was only a spy, with some talent for assassination, but that was all. Fighting head on against a knight, even an apprentice one, was already a feat that surprised him. But against the First General Paladron d’Arquien? That was too much of a joke.

“Take him to custody.”

Two knight grabbed his arms, while a third tied a rope in his mouth to prevent him from suiciding. Now fully secured, the prisoner was led to the prison until further instructions from Paladron.

But now, about the two remaining victims of the attempted murder… The young researcher seemed more freaked than hurt, however you couldn’t say the same for the one lying on the ground.

“Medics! We have an injured!”

Someone shouted behind him out of habit, letting a team of white coated characters come and bring Dragee out of here.

Dragee Martinozzi. He was only an apprentice, but clearly stood and fought as a true knight. At the end of the day, he would need to serve him a rightful reward for this heroic feat. But that was for another time. Right now… His eyes laid on the shaking man that almost saw himself being stabbed to death. A group of nurses were already there to comfort him, looking for any injury he could have sustained. But he kept repeating that he was fine, and that they needed to bring Dragee inside the chamber in his lab. For medical purposes, certainly.

Paladron walked in front of the traumatized little boy and caught his attention.

“Are you Friture Elmar?”

He knew his name? Friture didn’t knew how or why, but still nodded. His thoughts, confused, were still in the process of rearranging themselves for now.

“I am Paladron d’Arquien, First General of the army of Biscotti. I am glad you survived.”

He was glad? Well, it was always good to know that some people were worried about your well-being.

“The Chief Researcher mentioned your resume to me. I will need you to follow me to my quarters once everything is settled here.”

The Chief Researcher talked about him? Oh right, it was probably because of the Project: New World. He was directly related to this project, so of course his name would reach the ears of people like him.

“Alright. Do you… Do you need me to bring anything?”

“No. I will only need you to sign some papers instead of the Chief Researcher.”

Sign some papers… Instead of the Chief Researcher? Friture couldn’t explain it clearly, but he somehow felt that something was wrong. Why should he do the work of his superior? Did something happen to him? Why did… Why the face of the assassin crossed his mind at the thought?

“It is a sad news to bring to you, but, while you were the target of the assassin, it appears the Chief Researcher was the first on his list.”

“You… you mean…”

“The Chief Researcher is dead.”

So… So it happened. The Chief Researcher… Was dead. This father-like person, who knew how to take light things lightly and serious stuff seriously. This inspiring presence for Friture… Was now gone. But, be it cruel or whatever, Paladron had businesses to attend to, and was forced to leave the area. Yet, he still left a last note for Friture before disappearing behind the walls of the cafeteria.

“You are the only and last one who fully comprehend the technology and the means behind Project: New World. In place of the deceased Head of the National Research Center, we will need you to act as the new project leader.”

That moment, Friture’s consciousness decided it was too hard to accept, and made him black out.