“Couldn’t sleep a wink last night,” complained Vernon before groaning. Then there was a crack, a loud one. Another came right after, sounding just as disgusting and visceral. His head went slack, neck curled over and for a moment, he died. Unfortunately, he came back to life. “Ugh.”

“Almost thought you paralyzed yourself there,” said Damien next. Damien was the worst kind of person: an early bird, a morning guy, and the other names for his ilk. What else? A go-getter, an ugly bastard, and an annoying prick.

“Almost thought you snapped your neck.” Althea was already standing, having changed into a new set of plain clothes.

Leona let out an adorable yawn and stood. “You’re all awfully talkative this morning. I’m with Vernon here; I barely got any sleep.” She nudged a leg of Alexander’s cot using her foot. “Good morning, handsome.”

Alexander mumbled something and sat up, sharing a sweet smile with Leona. He felt way better than yesterday. Relatively-speaking. He had drunk a [Healing Potion] and his sleep, while awful, gave enough time for his body to rest. His shoulder didn’t ache anymore, his foot wiggled excitedly, and he no longer had an old man’s back. Standing up, he stretched and cracked a few bones in satisfaction.

“How do you feel?” asked Leona, who looked pretty healthy herself. Her wounds healed nicely.

“Better. A bit sore in some places but that’s nothing. You?”

“Same. It won’t be an issue, but I do stink—“

“I’m pretty sure we all stink.” Alexander pointed to the kids. “Especially those two and their weird hormones.”

“Oi.”

Vernon sighed.

Leona clicked her tongue. “I know, but I want to see if we can take a shower before our next mission.”

“Do we even have running water?” Damien asked.

“No, but the Army’s making a designated bathing quarters or whatever you call it—“

Vernon answered, “The latrines?”

“That’s the toilet, not the shower,” Althea corrected him.

“Whatever you call it,” Leona continued, “we should wash yesterday off. As our Team Leader, you need to consider our morale. As your second, that’s both my request and advice to you.”

Alexander laughed, making fun of her a little bit. “My second?”

“What? Are you going to tell me that Damien’s your right hand man?”

Damien raised his right hand. “I would be honored to—“

“Alright, you’re my second, Leo.” Alexander patted her shoulder and lazily did the sword thing, officially knighting her as the second-in-command of whatever-the-hell-this-team-was. “I’ll consider it. Only for the morale boost. I’m cold and calculating like that.” He playfully tapped his head.

“Of course you are. Cold as the sun,” she teased.

“Yeah yeah. It’s only what?” He checked the time: about five-thirty. It was earlier than he expected. “We’ll have time before we kick our morning off with some action. Let’s get some breakfast and loiter around, I guess.”

No one disagreed.

After everyone had their affairs in order, they mustered out of their tent. Due to their involvement in Pereyra’s subjugation, they had better sleeping conditions than the refugees. The dormitories were overcrowded, some decided to sleep outside and brave the weather. The latter populated the greens in small tents and makeshift huts, having more colorful blankets than grass. Alexander frowned; just two days ago, Ordo University was clean and bloodless and happy. Not anymore.

“So Alex,” Vernon began as they walked, “I know you talked to Althea about this, but did you decide whether or not I, y’know, join you guys?”

“Like what I told Thea: maybe. You did secure Sun Hall and acted unusually level-headed—” (“I’m always level-headed!”) “—uh huh, but Pereyra’s a different ballpark. You can’t just be sure about this: you need to be certain. You know what happened to Luster, and they’re supposed to be the best of us.”

Leona and Damien went silent. They remembered what had happened to them. During Pereyra’s initial attack on Black Paladin Station, they were heavily injured: Montana was repeatedly blasted into the ground, Hidden got thrown like a ragdoll, Jury had her ribs broken in, and Problem was tossed around (they weren’t so hurt).

“If it’s any consolation…” Alexander said after sighing, “...we’ll be working with the juniors in the Combative Program. We’ll be with people we know.”

Ordo University was one of the many colleges in the world that had a Department of Systemic Works. Systemic Works educated the next generation of Slayers through two programs: Combative and Supportive. The Combative Program focused on combat and expedition training while Supportive branched off into various specializations such as alchemy or blacksmithing or gemwork, engineering, all those fun stuff. The Supportive Program had double the number of students as its counterpart.

Initially, Vernon wanted to be a magitech engineer and enroll in the Supportive Program; since he was rich, he could afford to take a year to survey his possible options before making a commitment. After all, you needed to be a Slayer in order to enroll in either of these programs. Everyone referred to students in Systemic Works as “juniors”, as they were Slayers-in-training.

They would receive their official license at the end of their program, which took three years to complete. Afterwards, guilds. In Ordo, most, if not all, were aiming for the Big Four: Angels, Royals, Martials, and Glory.

Alexander knew how difficult applications were. Last year, Leona invited the Shens to Angels to watch an examination, particularly Combative. One of the practical exams had teams of juniors fighting against a Head Officer; the juniors had to push them outside of a red circle which acted as an arena. Only a handful of teams were successful.

In the Combative Program, which was what everyone raged about, there were six classes with twenty students each: Class A1 and A2 (third-years), Class B1 and B2 (second-years), and Class C1 and C2 (first-years). Each class had a class administrator, which was a glorified professor, who’d stay with their class throughout their three-year journey. They were:

Professor Baek Hei-ran of Combative Class A1, S-Rank Slayer, Mul.

Professor Ichiken Katsuro of Combative Class A2, S-Rank Slayer, Strike.

Professor Mira Cloutier of Combative Class B1, S-Rank Slayer, Myriad.

Professor Guilherme Carvalho of Combative Class B2, S-Rank Slayer, Rapids.

Professor Zahur Saad of Combative Class C1, S-Rank Slayer, Adjo.

Professor Kostas Kastellanos of Combative Class C2, S-Rank Slayer, Lykos.

The class administrators acted as second parents to their kids. They provided advice, consoling, criticism, anything and everything, all to ensure that they would survive as a Slayer. Leona often commented how different her life would’ve been if she had opted to join the program. Alexander would reply that she’d conquer her entire class.

Alexander thought about that himself: if he had taken a different turn, how would a Slayer’s life be? Well, not like he could have one. His Growth Potential was much too low. Prestigious colleges like Ordo University would throw your application out if your potential didn’t meet a certain standard.

Yet here I am, a Slayer. Amazing.

As his team walked towards the canteen, Alexander heard his name. He stopped and looked around, and heard his name again, from his left. A levitating, cloaked figure approached the team: Problem, who also had a levitating piece of bread. Of Team Luster, they were the least injured.

“Shen’s team, good, you’re dutifully awake,” Problem introduced themselves, and the bread hovered into their dark hood, taking a bite. Vernon muttered that it was freaky. Honestly, he was right.

“I didn’t expect you to be up so soon,” Damien commented, crossing his arms. “You’re not as injured as your comrades.”

“Well, I have a small window of injury you see,” they said. “I’m likelier to be either dead or alive, not injured. It’s interesting though, seeing a devil such as yourself tagging along with your friends. That’s adorable.”

“You act like you’re older despite being so short. How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty-five.” Problem bit their bread.

Damien dropped his arms. “I’m twenty-two.”

“Yes, we established I’m the older one.”

While they bickered, Althea tugged on Alexander’s sleeve. “For someone who hides themselves, Problem’s a smartass, aren’t they?”

“If we can have one more person annoying Damien, they’re welcome on my team any time—” Leona pinched Alexander, “—ow!”

Leona frowned, letting go. “Be nice.”

“Yes ma’am…” Alexander wiped where Leona had pinched him and looked at Problem. “Problem, how was the operation planning?”

Problem sighed, swallowing their sorrows with bread. “Exhausting. We did preliminary talks, minimally at that, considering Pereyra is most likely watching our every move. We have to assume that it’s all-watching, which effectively means that most, if not all, of our secret, confidential plans are exaggerated itineraries.”

“That is not what I wanted to hear first thing in the morning,” Vernon said with a smile that did not fit his mood.

“Well, Sage may or may not have any updates for us. Seraph had told her to focus on this operation due to the complexity of the problem, pun not intended. I suggest you start praying; otherwise, we literally cannot go on the offensive without being completely decimated.”

“You’re really great at delivering good news,” Althea deadpanned, “before y’know, you hit us over the head with worse.”

“Althea,” reprimanded Leona.

“No no, it’s fine. You’re the sister, aren’t you?” Problem said, charmed. “This is being an adult. I suggest you grow accustomed to the feeling of constant numbness.” They ate the rest of their bread. “Also, I do not recommend the bread. It’s like eating a brick. Life is like that, I suppose: constantly eating bricks.”

“Yeah, alright…” Alexander sighed, rubbing his mouth. “How’s Archknell—?”

An alarm blared throughout campus. Immediately, soldiers stopped what they were doing and rushed to their stations, picking up their helmets and vests and rifles, strapping themselves quickly. Problem looked around, amused, opening a blue screen.

“Speaking of bricks,” muttered Leona.

Althea asked, “Should we go…?”

Although Problem’s face was hidden, it was clear that their expression dropped. “No. I have a message from Archknell. The entire city is under high alert. I…”

They paused.

In those few moments, a loud whirring noise rushed throughout campus. From above. The golden barrier shimmered brightly then returned to a normal color—no, the color was dimmer, the shield a tad more transparent, revealing more of the false night beyond the wall. Alexander could make out the silhouette of the Cosmic Beast, twisting, twirling in the atmosphere.

“What…?” Vernon said out loud.

“Pillar Vesper has fallen,” Problem answered, lowfully. “We need to meet with Archknell immediately.”

***

Problem led them to Archknell’s tent, which housed an array of complicated technology that Alexander couldn’t ascertain the uses of. Though that didn’t matter, seeing the device on the center table: a holographic device. In the middle was an embedded blue orb, spinning, emitting a battlemap of Ordo.

Five golden dots were present: the Five Pillars. But one was red: Vesper. It had a status bar: Pillar Vesper - INOPERATIONAL.

Archknell noticed Problem and Alexander’s team coming in, softly nodding. “You came quickly,” he said, quiet. “Unfortunately, I didn’t lie. Pillar Vesper has fallen.”

“Goodness…” Leona hovered a hand over her mouth. “How?”

Archknell looked to his left where he had a row of blue screens open. “According to the messages, Tewfik had. Right now, we can’t determine how but the results are clear: Pillar Vesper has fallen, there’s no mistaking that.”

Problem approached the table, analyzing the battlemap. “I’m assuming the Colonel isn’t willing to send reinforcements to apprehend Tewfik?”

“Correct.” Archknell stretched a small space with his fingers, zooming in. There, numerous red dots appeared, popping up, then becoming a fog more like, surrounding two of the other Pillars: Windvent and Flares. “Wonder is launching an offensive in Windvent and Ikeya in Flares. Dawns and Creekwood have seen increased activity in the area, but nothing within the scope of the three attacks thus far.

“Considering the news, the entire city is placed on alert. We cannot risk any further damage no matter what, yet if we act too hastily, we’d serve to weaken ourselves.”

“What do you mean by that?” Vernon asked. Alexander knew why, but he let Vernon talk.

“What I mean is this: we cannot afford to send reinforcements without jeopardizing key infrastructure. As far as we are concerned, Pillar Vesper is a complete lost. Seraph had already given the order for all personnel to retreat immediately. What happens after that…” Archknell grimaced. “We have to trust that our men and women come back home.”

Members from the Big Four were guarding the Five Pillars. Meaning, Archknell most likely lost friends and family in an instant.

“Was it only Tewfik?” Alexander asked.

Archknell solemnly nodded.

“What…?” How could a single Comet take down an entire Pillar? It was made to hold against the strongest of magick. The structure itself was nigh-impossible to demolish directly; you’d need to attack from within because it was easier. This is some bullshit we’re playing against. Pereyra has the ability to watch us with little-to-no restrictions, and Tewfik managed to take us down a fifth.

If Tewfik had the ability to take down a Pillar, then how long will it take to destroy the rest of them? When will it be our turn…?

“Oh, we’re next,” Alexander deduced.

Problem tilted their head. “Are we?”

“I mean, it’s safe to say that the Comets have their own special gimmick. If Pereyra is a spy, then Tewfik’s the hammer. Since Pereyra’s residing in Dawns…”

“Then Tewfik is likely to show itself here,” Archknell concluded. “Well, this poses an interesting challenge, doesn’t it?”

The operation just got more complex. Normally, when the threat level increased, you’d simply call for more Slayers to overwhelm them. This was not a normal situation. It was as Archknell said: calling for more manpower meant weakening other locations. At best, they’d only come as needed, which meant they needed to make do with what they got.

“How’s Luster?” Leona asked Archknell.

“They’ll be operational soon; they’re currently resting, and as they already heard, they’re itching to get back into the field. Now.” Archknell hovered a finger over Pillar Vesper’s dot. “I’m going to show the list of personnel. There’ll be a lot of confirmed deaths, so turn away if you don’t want to be dispirited.”

No one had anything to say.

Archknell sighed and double-tapped Vesper, highlighting a list of personnel. He expanded the list into a grid, each box showing a brief profile of every personnel member there from Slayers to military to otherwise, everyone was accounted for. The boxes were of three colors: green, meaning alive; yellow, meaning incapacitated; and gray, dead.

About eighty percent of the boxes were gray. Some greens went yellow, some jumped straight to gray, some of the yellows stayed like that. Then, well, they too turned gray. It was an odd sight, Alexander thought, watching people die in front of him. Not like System Articles, not like Black Paladin Station or even Hangzhou, but like this, the sickly, medical feeling to it all? It disturbed him greatly.

Faces he didn’t know, names he didn’t recognize, all turning gray each time he blinked. Most of all, Slayers. Archkell focused on the names associated with Glory Guild. Who knew what he was thinking of right now? Their Guild Master was here, too far to save them.

More names went gray.

“Tewfik’s slaughtering them…” Damien muttered.

Worst of all, not even the regular civilians were spared.

“We gotta do something…” Vernon softly pleaded as though saying it to himself.

“We can’t,” Leona told him. “All we need to do is prepare for the operation against Pereyra.”

“Then why aren’t we doing that now?”

Alexander looked at Archknell; they both knew why.

In silence, they watched the names change colors. Green, yellow, gray, green, yellow, gray, yellow, gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, gray. Gray. Engineers and soldiers and technicians and inventors and rifleman and logistics and Slayers from Royals and Angels and Martials and Glory and from sub-affiliates and from smaller guilds. And the unaccounted civilians. And the volunteers. And the surrounding buildings. All not shown.

ALERT: PILLAR VESPER HAS LOST 90% COMBAT EFFECTIVENESS

Soon after that, another alert appeared.

ALERT: KILLED IN ACTION - S-RANK SLAYER JOVIAL

It seemed the battlemap alerted them to the deaths of a notable Slayer, S-Rank and up if Alexander had to guess.

Gray. Gray. Gray.

Until the very end, where there was only one name on the grid: Aiden Kang, Firebrand, the prodigy that was nurtured by Seraph and Kosmos. He was yellow, and the last remaining fighter in Pillar Vesper. It took not two minutes.

ALERT: KILLED IN ACTION - SS-RANK SLAYER FIREBRAND

Alexander stared at the message, knowing his face was contorted in mixtures of rage, melancholy, and anxiety.

ALERT: NO LIVING FORCES DETECTED IN PILLAR VESPER