“Is this why you asked me to come here?”

“Mhm, it’s been our secret project actually. All of us.” Althea led her around Goldwing Library here on main campus. The central floor had been converted into a commons where refugees could loiter and recuperate. It was a place that wasn’t a line for food or medical, away from the temporary morgue and the military installments—that in itself made the library appealing. Candles were lit, keeping back the smell of death and dirt.

In the southern hall, it opened into an expansive space where the walls were glass and offered a breathtaking view of the esteemed Slayer Capital where high towers split the low pearl clouds and Slayers could be seen strolling the streets and speaking intimately on rooftops like modern-day superheroes. But the sight that’d greeted everybody who entered was a blaring reminder of today’a tragedy caused by the Disaster. Yet humanity was always one quick to adapt and rebuild; slowly, the pieces were getting sewn back together.

Leona reached out to a nearby bookshelf and dragged her fingers across the hard and soft covers, the titles entering and leaving her mind in no substantial way, before discovering an assorted crowd of refugees and rifles and Slayers and whoever else huddled around two thick black tables. Between the bodies she found six tablets embedded into each table, protected by hard touchscreens, smudged with thin layers of dirt and mud.

A quarter of the visitors here were sobbing as they read the tablets.

“...Remember the letters Archknell had us write? When we were ‘bout to march off into Scorcher?” Althea recounted with a sad smile. “I got a hold of ‘em, made tons of calls to see if I could get permission to transcribe them electronically. Most agreed.”

“For who? The ones still alive or dead?” asked Leona as they watched what they could only assume to be close friends and family shed tears over reading these letters.

“Both. If they’re alive, just find ‘em. If they’re dead, contact family. Like I said, most agreed. Oh, I made sure to get their consent in writing ‘cause Gul advised me just in case any drama happens. Anyway, I still have half the list to comb through. It’s, uh, it’s something, I tell you. I never thought I’d be kickin’ ass, but I sure as heck never woulda thought I’d be… I dunno, what’s the word for it?”

“A notifier?”

“Yeah, close enough. A notifier. ‘Hi, I am Spirit Beast Queen from the Dawn Baptists and I wish to speak to you about a letter your child had wrote.’” Althea rubbed her nose. “Or if they’re alive, I’d just cut straight to the chase. D’you know what really stuck with me? It was this one mother who lost her son. He was a first-year, forgot which program. She didn’t know he’d written a letter and since I, y’know, had it physically… She asked me to read it, and of course the asshole wrote a lot of stuff.”

Leona didn’t comment.

Althea licked her lips, her eyes glossy. “Yeah.” She wiped them. “Yeah. After all the crying we did, she thanked me. Now I know how that dumbass brother of mine feels ‘cuz I dunno what I did that deserves a thanks and I know I couldn’t have done anything to prevent everything. It’s a real pain in the ass, but someone has to do the work. Someone has to make these sacrifices known.”

“...I agree,” a voice intruded on their conversation, startling them both. It came from their right. The stranger was discreetly eavesdropping from behind the corner of a bookshelf. A short woman, wearing a white-and-blue hoodie with her hands stuffed inside pockets. Behind the hood was sharp pink hair as loud as a sign with ‘NOTICE ME!’ written in bolded black. But what was more attracting were her blue eyes. They weren’t normal. In her irises were golden lines you’d find on a circuit board, and the center of her pupils had uncanny stable white dots.

She was young. Maybe a couple years older than Althea; she carried herself like a carefree youth but there was something deeper, Leona suspected.

The stranger squeaked seeing the pair stare at her in a mixture of surprise and concern, buckling under the weight of their heavy gazes. Quickly her hands shot out and she shook them vigorously.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to say that out loud!” She clasped her hands together and bowed. “Gomen nasai! Please don’t think I’m a spy or anything, I was just curious!”

“Who’re you?” Leona questioned, standing in front of Althea just in case if this girl was a threat. She could be working for the Global Guards and against the Baptists.

“Uhh…” Her hands found their way around the edge of her hood, her electrical blue eyes taking stock of the population here. She sighed. “Uhm, I’m sort of nervous revealing my identity here but okay! Promise you won’t freak out!”

Leona and Althea glanced at each other, befuddled.

Althea answered in their place, “Promise.”

“I’m Momosaki Sayuri (桃崎 小百合)!” said the girl in a loud whisper, revealing more of her youthful face.

They blinked. Neither of them knew her.

“Huh…?” Momosaki looked down for a moment before her head shot up. “Oh right, nobody knows my real name! Let me start over! My name is Momosaki Sayuri, Elysian Fourteen of HERO Medea!”

That was more than a familiar name; in this part of the world, Elysian Fourteen was one of the biggest Slayer-celebrity for the simple fact she was in the possession of a mecha straight out from an anime: her HERO.

Nobody understood the ins-and-outs of her technology except for the pilot herself.

The twenty-one-year-old girl, Momosaki Sayuri, who'd arrived to this earth at the age of seventeen. She joined the ranks as a foreign Slayer like Blackviper and Duskfire and Silverhonor. Whatever her occupation was in her old world, she was an Otherguard today. She wasn’t an agent for the Guards, that much was certain.

Leona relaxed; she wasn’t sure how she was going to beat Momosaki in a fight anyway. “What’re you doing here, Momosaki?”

“I wanted to find some of the Baptists and I heard you were here,” she admitted. “It’s nothing business-related actually; I want to know how Chie-chan is doing. Since, ano, since she got herself hurt during the outbreak. I’ve been asking around for her whereabouts but found out you were keeping her location a secret. I understand, so don't think I wanna pry any deeper. I’ve dealt with my fair share of politics, but I'm worried. She's my gaming buddy!”

Right, Aiden mentioned that before one time: Chie was close friends with Momosaki. Leona could understand why. While they were on opposite ends of the spectrum, with Chie being a recluse and Momosaki being an international celebrity, they were young and excitable women. Plus Japanese. Heritage was a common point of connection.

Maybe Momosaki knew about her friend’s secret, maybe not if even Aiden didn’t know.

Leona answered as much as she was allowed to divulge: “She’s fine. She did hurt herself badly but she’s being monitored twenty-four-seven by Shinzo.”

“Oh, Takaichi-senpai is monitoring her? Thank goodness!” Momosaki laid a relieved hand over her heart. “When I first came to this world, Senpai helped me adjust so I know she’s a reliable woman. If it’s her, then I know Chie-chan will be alright.”

Those words stung deeply; there was no way for Leona to disclose the fact that Chie's heart failed days ago, and it was uncertain if she would ever wake up from her coma. With this grim possibility in mind, Aiden's dark expression entered Leona's thoughts and haunted her like a bad regret. To push these negative emotions out, Leona cleared her throat. They lingered as vestiges but her mind was clearer. For now.

Knowing the truth as well, Althea quickly changed the subject, “You know Shinzo that far back?”

“Mhm. Because of the, ano, protocols, I needed a doctor to evaluate me. Zenko-sama asked for Senpai’s help and that’s how I got to know her. But…” Momosaki made an awkward face. “Don’t tell anyone this, but I’m kind of afraid of my boss.”

“Why?”

“She plays tricks on everyone, especially me! Every time we meet, she tells me to drop the formalities and call her ‘Onee-san’ but that’s way too disrespectful! Plus, I know she’s going to tease me until the day I die!”

Zenko was also mentioned off-handedly by Rector; as the commander of the Asia Pacific Division, she’d gotten intimately familiar with Kosmos and the rest of his cabal. She could be considered as a dependable ally if needed, but like pretty much the entirety of the Otherguards currently, she was far too busy and Leona didn’t need her specific help right now. Business-aside, Zenko was also quite a celebrity.

Because she had mutations of the mythological kitsune. Like how Silverhonor was a half-elf and Blackviper had cybernetics, people had their…unique preferences.

Leona sighed and rubbed her mouth, glancing over her shoulder to see how the visitors were doing. Some were looking their way but most were fixated on the letters.

Momosaki’s jubilance fastened into despondence, realizing this was no place to be loud and disrespectful. “I saw the sign outside. Did Archknell ask you all to write letters before going on your operation?”

The two Baptists wordlessly nodded.

The Otherguard hugged herself, looking away and at the ground. “...May I read some of them? If you don’t mind my embarrassing presence.”

“Not one bit,” Althea told her. “It’s why we went through all the effort to make this.”

The three shuffled to an open tablet. Momosaki adjusted her hood so no one would recognize her, then she placed a finger on the screen. A grid appeared. Each box listed three things of a given entry: real name, codename, and what they belonged to.

The first one Momosaki picked belonged to a man named Louis Strander, codename Archknell of Glory Guild.

Good evening, anyone who may be reading this letter,

It’s obvious who I am but to be polite, I’ll introduce myself anyway. My name is Archknell, Guild Master of Glory Guild, but to my close associates, they have too many insulting nicknames for me to count. My favorite one is ‘Thorns’, because when I was the apprentice to the former Guild Master Laurel, I’d tripped and fallen into a pit of vines absolutely covered with thorns. To this day, I still say it was the most painful experience of my life.

How I earned the nickname ‘Thorns’ was the first of many lessons I’ve learned. Both from the incident itself—to always pay attention to my surroundings—and every time I think fondly of this memory. Of my expedition team who’d accompanied me that day, of all the ten members including my master, two are alive today. They passed one way or another. I’ve held my brothers in my arms as their skin went pale and their boisterous eyes darkened and their bodies grew cold as they took their last breath; I’ve watched through several layers of canvas and glass and other protections as my master succumbed to an otherworldly plague, from which she was killed from just one prick on the finger. A scratch she would’ve never noticed until it was too late.

They call me the ‘Deathweaver’ because I could imbue Death in the strings I wield, but I like to think I’m not as scary as my title may imply. I earned the title not because my legend is synonymous with Death nor does Death follow me in my wake. I earned it because I understand Death like how a Christian understands God: everywhere, always.

Death is a painful thing, and living hurts so much more—this I learned the most. I am writing this with great shame knowing I will lead possibly thousands to their deaths against the Lesser Caller and Cutter. A foe we do not know. Many in Ordo University will lose their lives before they have properly began. But if we do not sacrifice ourselves for this beautiful world, then who?

So we fight and we will fight violently and spectacularly.

And if we die—if I die—then we die one inch closer to peace.

I won’t die without regrets. There are so many things I have to teach my own apprentice, Silverhonor. Many questioned me as to why I’ve chosen her as my Vice Guild Master, and while I won’t disclose the exact reasons, I have full faith in her growth. It is my honor—pun not intended—to act as her mentor and I cherish every memory we have spent together.

Whatever becomes of me, I wish she will find her calling and purpose, here, in the multiverse.

As for Glory Guild, it has been my pleasure to witness you all throughout my time as your leader. If it fractures, then I am glad this guild has been but one step in the staircase of your lives.

Thank you, all of you, from my guildmates to you, the very reader(s) right now. You know of the future, you know what happens to me, but I have only one thing to ask you: always remember the cost of your peace.

You may be suffering the very price as of reading this.

Honor them, praise them for their courage and lament their loss, and strive to do better and beyond.

Thank you,

Louis Strander, Archknell of Glory Guild

Below that was as small paragraph written by another user: a woman by the name of Lyressa fey Suntear, Silverhonor of Glory Guild.

When Spirit Beast Queen asked me to write a response to Archknell’s letter, I was taken aback because I didn’t have anything worthwhile to say. I’m doubtful if I could meet the image of the warrior he’d pictured in his imaginative mind or meet the dynamic expectations as given by my new charge. There is much I do not know. I scorn my mentor for leaving me so soon. For a long time, I will despise him.

Yet I will always remember him and think back to the first years of my arrival to your world, smiling fondly of the blessing of time we’d shared together. Will I remain as the Acting Guild Master of Glory? I do not know. Will I pursue some other adventure? Perhaps.

The gifts the future holds are treasures we must uncover for ourselves. I am afraid of opening the box knowing the painful present, but the faintest promise possesses the greatest hope. That is what the man named Louis taught me.

Whenever you are reading this, never succumb to despair.

Momosaki pressed her fingertips on the screen as though she was intimately touching a person. Within her eyes, she was no longer here but instead somewhere far, far away from Ordo and this world.

A single tear went halfway down her cheek before she wiped it.

“…Hey,” she got the attention of her new acquaintances, “take care of your friends. In this life, you may never know what’ll happen.”

The two Baptists nodded and allowed the silence to continue.

Momosaki laughed and wiped her eyes, shaking her head. “I need to get going. You guys aren’t Slayers, right? Here.” From her pockets, she pulled out a couple cards and handed them over. “My contact info; please keep me updated on Chie until Angels is comfortable enough with visits.”

“I’ll keep you in the know,” Leona replied solemnly, her voice sounding weaker than she thought.

“Arigatou!” cheered Momosaki before pulling her hood over tighter, taking her leave with a friendly wave goodbye.

Althea said something to Leona but she wasn’t paying attention; instead she had taken Momosaki’s place and scrolled through the other entries. It was organized alphabetically according to surnames, and there she searched for ‘S’. She did not see a single entry with ‘Shen’ nor did see any for ‘Ahn’.

Spontaneously she decided to select a random entry. This letter was written by someone in the Supportive Program, a second-year, describing his years up to this point and how much he was afraid. At the end was a note similarly to Silverhonor’s written by his sister. Yet another casualty in the war.

She remembered her own letter. She’d talked about her parents and how they abandoned her; she’d talked about Seoul and how she was bullied. She had vaguely referenced the ringleader of the operation, the rotten bitch and daughter of an Alliance head. But most of all, there were fond memories she had written when Ordo finally felt like home again. Home, where many had lost theirs. Family, when many felt like her.

What bullshit this was… Two words tormented her throughout her life: if only. Why—this single question accompanied her viciously. If only, why, if only, why. Everything was crashing together now at this singular moment: the past, present, and future. Overwhelming her, bombarding her thoughts, and slowly the world went white.

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder. Althea. “You’re shaking,” she said.

“Ah…?” Leona looked down and saw her hands. Were her hands this fuzzy or was that her vision? “I-I’m okay, lovely. I’m fine. I’m…”

“How much longer are you going to torture yourself?” Shinzo’s voice startled Leona from when she was hospitalized, chained to the bed via IV and her own instability. “How much longer are you going to punish yourself?”

Althea was staring at her. She was so responsible, so capable like her brother, able to remain strong for everybody. She never needed her support; this brave girl could survive Hell and come out stronger. All this worrying about her health was just projection, a lie told so Leona could soothe and justify herself.

All this time… All this time…

Leona’s head hurt. She pulled away from Althea and clasped one side of her face. “What… What is wrong with me…?”

She could not get an answer.

Because her phone buzzed so prominently that it was enough to distract Leona. Her shaky hand fetched it and she looked at the lockscreen. From Rector.

Rector:

Check the news. Now.

Leona gulped and went onto the first social media app she saw.

The first item on ‘Trending’ was: Nemesis.

The eight-fourteens had officially announced their investigation on Angels and Royals Guild.