The Crusade

A couple of days after being hospitalized, Alena was finally back on her feet — though her arm remained in a cast. Thanks to her Mythical regeneration, the pain had dulled, and the bones were healing faster than expected. She could now move freely around the HQ without being watched... but her status hadn't changed.

She was still under house arrest. Still trapped.

Alena wandered aimlessly through the halls, the fluorescent lights casting a dull glow over the polished floors. There was nothing to do. Everyone else had a role, a task, a purpose. She had nothing but time.

"Maybe I should try escaping again," she thought bitterly.

Her thoughts returned to Kai's grave, the ache in her chest returning just as strong. She needed to go back. To stand there one more time. But after her last stunt, security had tightened. Extra cameras were installed, and new guards patrolled the halls at night. If she was going to try again, she'd have to study their patterns and blind spots. It would take time.

Meanwhile, Lily had barely emerged from her room. Still working to break into the tablet, she had locked her door and hadn't spoken to anyone in days. Alena trusted her, but the wait was agonizing.

With nothing else to do, she made her way to the library — a small, tucked-away room in the HQ that barely anyone visited. It was quiet, still, and as expected… completely empty.

Except for the memories.

Kai had always come here. Sometimes to read. Sometimes just to think.

Alena let her fingers glide along the spines of the dusty books, scanning titles with dull disinterest — until one caught her eye.

Holy Crusade.

Something felt familiar about it. She pulled it from the shelf and sat down, flipping it open. The words pulled her in quickly.

"The Knights of the Crusade were once a powerful faction devoted to spreading their religious influence across the Empires. Zealous, brutal, and unrelenting, they viewed all opposition as heresy."

She turned the page.

"After decades of war, the Empires united in a fragile alliance to stand against the Crusade's holy campaign. What followed was a brutal conflict that stretched across Empires. Then, as suddenly as they rose… the crusade vanished. No trace. No warning. Not even bodies left behind."

Alena's eyes narrowed.

Vanished? Just like that?

She kept reading, hours slipping by unnoticed.

Alena scoured the library for anything—anything—related to the Crusade. One book led to another, then another. A small mountain of texts piled around her on the table. Each page revealed more fragments, more cryptic accounts that all pointed toward something disturbingly familiar.

This can't be a coincidence, she thought. It's too much like the Order from ten years ago...but more

She flipped through a particularly aged tome, its pages yellowed and brittle. Her eyes locked onto a passage that made her sit up straighter:

"The Grandmaster led the Holy Crusade—said to be unmatched in strength and wisdom, wielding strange powers that defied explanation. The Empires, threatened by his rising influence, sent their strongest champions to strike him down. They succeeded. As the Grandmaster fell, a radiant light burst across the land, and with it… the Crusade vanished without a trace. "After the fall of the Grandmaster, his power did not die with him. Instead, it split into four fragments — each scattered across the Empires. These remnants of his divine strength seeped into the land, awakening unnatural abilities in those who were exposed."

Alena's heart pounded Suddenly, memories scattered through her mind — fragmented and sharp like broken glass.

She remembered her days at the orphanage. The cold floors. The children's screams. The night she couldn't sleep… and the strange, glowing fragment. She hadn't thought of it in years. It pulsed with a light she didn't understand then. A radiant yellow glow, mesmerizing and terrifying.

The Order's doctors. The cold steel table beneath her. She had thought it was just another experiment. But now the memory sharpened: the injection.

Energy.

A liquid glow, yellow and unnatural, coursing through the syringe. Reading the legend of the Grandmaster's fragmented power, it all aligned.

"They injected me with it…" she whispered, horrified. "That was his energy."

Her stomach turned.

The pain, the sudden awakening of her Mythical ability, the hallucinations... they had all started after that moment. After the fragmentented energy entered her bloodstream. Then came the pain. The screams. The feeling of her body being torn apart and remade.

She didn't understand why. But now… now it was making sense.

She could feel herself changing even now, just remembering it. The power inside her stirred — faint, but present.

Was that the moment it all began? Was that fragment… one of his?

"The source of that power… is still out there." she thought. "Or worse… "

Her eyes scanned back over the paragraph again.

Unnatural abilities... split between the four empires...

Could this be the origin of the Mythicals?

She knew it now — not just from the memories, but from everything that had happened.

They injected it into Kai and I.

But that was only one piece.

If the Grandmaster's power had been split into four fragments across the Empires…

Where are the other three?

Alena clenched the book tighter. She grabbed another, then another.

Every book told the story differently. Different names. Different battles. Different outcomes. Different events.

But the ending... always the same…gone

The Grandmaster falls or rises. A holy light shines. The Crusade disappears.

She let out a frustrated sigh, dropping the book onto the pile with a dull thud.

"All the books are different, but they all end the same way!" she muttered. "I don't understand... which is right? Which is wrong?"

She leaned back in the chair, rubbing her temple. Confusion churned in her gut. The story felt too convenient, too washed over with legend. Something was missing.

She picked up one last book, the spine cracked and faded with age. As she flipped through the brittle pages, a passage stopped her cold.

"A radiant red light beamed into the night sky as the once-dead warrior was granted a second chance at life. The Grandmaster, in his final moments, gave him the opportunity to live again—turning him into his most loyal knight. With the resurrected knight at their side, the Crusade resumed its campaign across the Empires."

Alena's breath caught.

"Together, they brought death and destruction in their wake, laying waste to cities and kingdoms alike. And in the end, the Crusade succeeded... the Empires fell."

"But then—one day—they vanished. Without a trace. Allowed the Empires to rebuild again"

She stared at the text, her mind racing.

A resurrected warrior… red light… death across the Empire… and then disappearance?

Her fingers trembled slightly as she closed the book.

Could the Templar be that knight? Could the Order be what used to be of the Crusade?

Nothing was certain. But everything felt connected. 

Her eyes drooped as fatigue finally overtook her. Surrounded by scattered books and half-empty notes, she slowly dozed off at the library table.

Hours passed.

When she awoke, the scent of coffee reached her first. She blinked the haze from her eyes to find Dante sitting across from her, a steaming cup in hand. Without a word, he slid another cup across the table toward her.

No Ezra in sight this time.

Alena took the cup gratefully, taking a slow gulp. The warmth helped chase the weight from her eyelids. She exhaled deeply.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

"Midnight," Dante replied casually.

She groaned.

"Don't worry," he said, giving a half-smirk. "I told Ezra I'd keep watch"

Alena let out a small sigh of relief. "Thanks."

There was a pause. Then, almost without thinking, she asked, "Dante… how do you think some people became Mythical?"

He paused, caught off guard by the question. He leaned back in his chair, swirling the coffee in his cup before answering.

"Well… from what I've been told, hundreds of years ago—when the Empires first rose to power—a beam of light shone across the four empires Out of everyone, only a few were… changed. Chosen, maybe. They became the first Mythicals."

He gave a casual shrug.

"And then, you know… if you understand the birds and the bees, well—nature runs its course. Powers branched out"

"So it's similar to the story in one of the books" She thought

Well… it was different for her, Alena thought, sipping her coffee again. She wasn't born Mythical. She was made. An artificial Mythical.

"So it's similar to the story in one of the books," she murmured, more to herself than anyone.

She stood up, slowly stretching her sore shoulder, then began putting the books away one by one. Dante watched her in silence, still nursing his coffee.

All except one book — the one that had truly caught her interest. She tucked it under her arm, separate from the rest.

"Where are you going?" Dante asked, raising an eyebrow.

"To bed," Alena replied, a little too quickly. "Even though I have great memorization, this is way too much information — and way too many plot holes — for me to comprehend right now."

Dante smirked. "After drinking coffee?"

She shrugged. "I'll find a way."

With the book tucked close, she walked out of the library and down the hallway. The halls were quiet, shadows stretching long beneath the flickering lights.

But she could feel it.

The cameras tracked her movement more intently than before. Every lens seemed to follow her with almost sentient focus.

Alena sat cross-legged on her bed, the dim room lit only by the soft blue glow of her desk lamp. The book lay open in her lap, its brittle pages whispering with every turn.

She flipped through until a passage caught her eye: "The followers of the Grandmaster — the Paladins — were elite knights of the Crusade, sworn to carry out his will without question. Their loyalty was absolute… but ultimately, they were nothing more than tools. Replaceable."

Her brow furrowed. She kept reading.

"Only one was considered irreplaceable — the Grandmaster's greatest servant. A knight who had died, yet was granted life anew. The Grandmaster entrusted him with a fraction of his own power, rebirthing him through divine fire."

Her breath hitched.

"This reborn knight became his sword, his shadow — his wrath made flesh. He was called…"

Alena's hands gripped the edges of the book tighter.

Her eyes widened as she whispered the word aloud:

"Avalon."

The name sent a chill down her spine.

The next day, Alena slipped into the records room, the door shutting behind her with a soft click. She searched through archive after archive, cross-referencing names, powers, and classifications.

But nothing.

Not a single mention of a Mythical ability named Avalon.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple in frustration.

If Avalon isn't an ability… maybe it's a title. A codename.

With her thoughts swirling, she made her way back down the hallway — only to be stopped by Ezra.

He stood casually, arms crossed, but there was a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

"I know you've been bored for a while," he said, watching her carefully. "I was thinking… maybe it's time you got out. We could head to the city for a bit."

Alena hesitated. She opened her mouth to object — but I need to keep digging — then stopped herself.

Maybe I do need the break. Clear my head. Piece things together.

She gave a small nod. "Sure."

Ezra raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised at her cooperation.

"I'll grab the keys," he said.

As he walked away, Alena looked back down the hall, her thoughts still tangled.

Avalon… Paladins… the crusade…the order It's all connected. I just need time to think.

Alena made her way back to her room and took off her uniform changing into her casual comfortable clothes

Ezra stood by the vehicle, leaning casually against the hood as he waited.

Alena entered the garage, her steps slowing as her eyes caught something near the far wall — old remnants of her motorcycle, charred and twisted, covered in a thin layer of dust. Her expression didn't change, but her gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary.

She said nothing and climbed into the passenger seat.

Ezra got in, started the ignition, and the garage door creaked open. The vehicle rolled forward into the morning light, and they drove toward the city.

Alena reclined slightly in her seat, a worn Crusade book open in her hands. Her eyes skimmed the pages, but it was clear she was only half-reading — the words blending with the thoughts racing through her mind.

The cabin was silent.

Ezra tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. The tension hung between them like fog — not hostile, just... heavy. Neither had much to say.

Finally, Ezra cleared his throat, stealing a glance her way.

"Reading on our little date?" he said, trying to sound light.

She didn't look up. "this isn't a date, and this is to get fresh air from my house arrest"

He nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

The silence returned. Only the soft hum of the road beneath them filled the void.

"I've never seen you as the reading type," Ezra said, breaking the silence.

Alena didn't look up right away. She paused at the end of a sentence,

"I'm not," she admitted. "Something just… happened to catch my eye."

Her voice was even, but her thoughts swirled beneath the surface. She kept her eyes on the book, careful not to let her expression change.

She didn't mention the Crusade.

Didn't mention the Order. Didn't mention Avalon. What would be the point?

Ezra would probably just think she was slipping — obsessed with Kai, too deep into her grief to see clearly. He'd chalk it up to trauma, or guilt.

Maybe part of her couldn't blame him for that.

Ezra pulled into a side lot and parked. The hum of the vehicle faded, replaced by the distant sounds of the bustling city.

Alena stepped out first, stretching her arms above her head. She left the Crusade book in the passenger seat, deciding to let it rest — for now.

The contrast hit her immediately.

The city during the day was alive — loud voices, clattering footsteps, hovering drones above the streets, and vendors calling out from corners. It was a world apart from the silent, watchful nights at HQ.

Ezra stepped out beside her.

"So," he said, shielding his eyes from the sun, "where to first?"

Alena slouched slightly, a tired look on her face. "You dragged me out and didn't even have a place in mind?"

Ezra chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Fair. How about… coffee?"

Alena gave a half-hearted nod. "Sure."

A few minutes later, they sat in a small café nestled between towering city structures. The air smelled of roasted beans and sweet pastries. Ezra sipped his drink with ease while Alena stared down into hers, swirling the foam with her spoon.

For a brief moment, the chaos of everything felt far away.

Ezra leaned in slightly over the table, lowering his voice just enough to signal that what he was about to say mattered.

"The report you gave the other day — about the Templar," he said, "I have some information you might be interested in."

Alena perked up, her attention snapping toward him. "Is that so?"

Ezra nodded. "The Order's influence has been growing rapidly — especially across the Western and Northern Empires. And along with that… a lot of crime syndicates have vanished."

Alena narrowed her eyes, sitting back in her chair. "That's… odd."

Ezra took a sip of his coffee and shrugged. "You might not agree with me, but honestly? I see it as a good thing."

Her expression shifted instantly — offense flashing in her eyes. "Wow," she said flatly, the word laced with quiet disappointment.

He raised his brows. "Hey, I just mean it's less work for us. They're cleaning out the trash before we even get involved."

A"What about me?!" She said

"I got ambushed. I almost died!" she said through clenched teeth. "The Order didn't just 'clean up' — they nearly killed me. You think that's a good thing?"

Ezra was quiet for a second, the easy humor gone from his face.

"…That's not what I meant," he said quietly.

"But it's what you said," Alena replied coldly.

The silence between them lingered for a moment, heavy and unspoken.

Finally, Ezra stood up, brushing off his coat. "Let's continue."

Alena didn't respond right away but followed him out of the café. The air outside felt cooler, the sky slowly shifting toward afternoon haze. They walked side by side through the city streets, the awkward tension trailing behind them like a shadow.

Then, as they rounded a corner, Alena's eyes lit up.

Kids laughed as they clutched their melting treats. Couples shared bites, hands brushing. Even a few adults in business attire waited patiently in line, sneaking glances at their watches between licks of soft-serve.

Ice cream.

Ezra glanced sideways and blinked — there was an unmistakable glint in her eyes… and was that… drool?

"You want that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alena gave a small nod, trying not to look too eager.

Though Alena carried herself with a sharp, serious air — sometimes even intimidating — she was, at her core, surprisingly simple.

Offer her one of her favorite things, and her entire mood could shift in an instant.

If only it were that easy with Kai.

After a short wait in line, Ezra returned from the stand, holding two cones 

Alena sat eagerly on a bench nearby, practically bouncing her leg in anticipation as if she were a little kid again.

As soon as he approached, she snatched the cone from his hand with lightning speed. Her eyes lit up like stars, a gleam of genuine joy breaking through the cloud of grief that had followed her for weeks.

Ezra blinked, caught off guard. Then laughed softly, taking a seat beside her.

"Didn't even say thank you," he teased. 

Ezra sat close, his shoulder just brushing hers.

"You like ice cream quite a bit," Ezra said, watching her with a faint smile.

Alena paused mid-lick, her expression softening. She stared at the cone for a moment.

"Back at the orphanage," she began quietly, "I was kind of a troublemaker. Always being disobedient. Causing trouble or going places I shouldn't " she hesitated, her voice lowering, "Kai would always take the blame. Even getting beaten for it."

Ezra didn't interrupt. He just listened.

"One night," she continued, "I couldn't sleep. Neither could he. So, he snuck into the staff freezer and stole two ice cream cones. Said it was a 'rare delicacy' something I never thought I would have again.

She smiled, just barely. "It was one of the few good memories from back then."

Ezra glanced at her, noting how the light from the sun caught just under her eyes. He thought to himself: For someone who's seen so much, it made sense that she'd cling to something so simple. Something innocent. For once, acting like a normal kid.

Ezra noticed bit of ice cream on her face 

"You've got something on your face," Ezra said, leaning in slightly. He reached out to wipe the small smear of ice cream from the corner of her mouth.

But the moment his fingers brushed close—

Her expression shifted.

Darkened.

Alena's hand shot up and clamped around his wrist, her grip vice-like despite her healing arm.

"Don't touch me," she said coldly, her voice sharp and final.

Ezra froze.

She held his wrist for a beat longer than needed before letting go, wiping the smear off herself with the back of her hand. Her gaze drifted away, suddenly distant.

The warmth from earlier was gone — like a flame snuffed out by a sudden wind.

Ezra rubbed his wrist slowly, not from pain, but from the weight of what her reaction meant.

"…Sorry," he said quietly.

Alena didn't respond. She just stared off at nothing, lost somewhere between memory and defense.

Before the tension could settle again, Alena put on a smile — a little too cheerful, a little too practiced.

"Let's keep walking! There's still so much more to see!"

Ezra raised a brow, clearly confused by the sudden shift, but chose not to question it. He simply nodded and followed her lead.

They stopped by various stalls — trinkets, clothes, food carts. Ezra tried again to lighten the mood, holding up a sleek, silver hair piece shaped like a crescent moon.

"How about this one?"

Alena gave it a quick glance before shaking her head. "No."

Her hand instinctively rose to the golden star hairpin nestled in her hair — old, slightly tarnished, but clearly cherished.

Ezra didn't push further. He recognized the silent message: this one's irreplaceable.

They continued through the marketplace, weaving past families and vendors. Children tugged at their parents' arms, begging for sweets or toys, while others stopped ahead, eyes wide with wonder.

A small crowd had gathered near the center plaza.

There, a tall man in a magician's uniform stood on a wooden crate. Blonde hair peeked from beneath a sleek top hat, and a smooth porcelain mask obscured his face

He held a deck of cards in one gloved hand, flicking them into the air with a flourish.

But these weren't ordinary tricks.

Each card burst into glowing particles, reshaping into doves, ribbons, miniature dragons — illusions that felt too real to be sleight of hand.

A Mythical

It wasn't uncommon to see Mythicals perform in public — their powers weren't hidden from society, often used openly for entertainment, labor, or security.

Alena's child side opened back up again her starry eyes returning

"Can we go see?" She asked

Ezra sighed "sure"

The continued trick after trick entertaining the crowd 

"And for my final trick I will need a volunteer!" He scanned around the room before eying at Alena 

"How about you young lady!"

Alena's eyes sparkled like a kid at a festival, her usual seriousness melting away.

"Can we go see?" she asked, almost bouncing on her heels.

Ezra blinked at the sudden change but let out a breath and smiled. "Sure."

They made their way through the small crowd gathered around the masked magician. Children sat cross-legged near the front while adults stood further back, murmuring in awe at each new display.

The magician was masterful — flicking cards into rings of flame that hovered midair, conjuring birds from thin air that flew in synchronized spirals, and transforming a single coin into a cascade of glittering shards that evaporated before hitting the ground.

Each trick felt like a spectacle, a dance of illusion and power wrapped together.

Alena watched, wide-eyed, the same way she'd looked at ice cream. Ezra caught the look — the rare glimpse of innocence — and said nothing.

Then, the magician clapped his hands together.

"And now," he said with a dramatic flourish, his voice smooth and theatrical, "for my final trick…"

He scanned the crowd slowly. Alena's smile shrank just a touch when his masked gaze swept over her — and paused.

"You!" he said, pointing a gloved finger.

Alena blinked pointed at herself

"Yes, you, young lady with the golden star hairpin" he added, tipping his hat with a slight bow. "Come join me on stage."