Chapter 12

The night had descended upon the land, and it felt as if even the sky had abandoned us. There was no moon, no stars—only emptiness, darkness swallowing the boundaries of the world. The protective crystals embedded in the bunker walls vibrated coldly, but they did not emit light—only a deep, pulsating energy, as if they themselves were watching. I looked at them with hope.

The fire we had managed to scrape together barely flickered. Its orange flames cast more shadows than warmth. There was something ominous about that weak light, as if it, too, was afraid to fully ignite in this world.

A faint rumbling sound reached us from beyond the walls. It was not the wind. It was not the movement of animals. It was like the breath of an army—silent, yet tangible. A chill ran down my spine, and I was certain I was not the only one who felt it.

It was Chloe who finally broke the silence.

— Does anyone still have food?

Her question fell into nothingness as the others shook their heads one by one.

David leaned back with a bitter smile. — Life is strange, isn't it? Not long ago, we were complaining at the academy when we didn't get a second serving… and now we'd beg for a dry crust of bread.

— A lovely little twist of fate, — Chloe remarked dryly.

Silence. Only the quiet crackling of the fire and the almost palpable feeling that we were not alone. The flickering light made the others' shadows seem motionless, but as I looked at them, I thought I saw tiny wounds on some of their faces.

Instinctively, I spoke.

— Do you have any first aid? — I asked softly, but something gnawed at me. I frowned and looked at the wounds again. A cold chill ran down my spine. — Wait a second… Those creatures… they're just spirits, aren't they? How can they even cause wounds?

Chloe exhaled slowly.

— Not all of them were spirits. There were… people among them.

I flinched. — People?

— Those who go too deep into summoning eventually lose the boundary. The world they live in is no longer entirely human… and not entirely of the afterlife either. — Chloe locked eyes with me for a moment.

David continued in a quiet, emotionless voice. — Some want to see the spirits. Others… want to join them.

— And some summon demons, — Chloe added. — They think they can control them. But in the end… they become the tools.

My heart skipped a beat. I was learning more and more unsettling things.

— So… if we die and get a new life… we're not only reborn as angels? — Emily asked softly. — But… as something else too?

The silence that followed was louder than any words.

A shiver ran down my back again. No one spoke for a long moment. Then, a voice shattered the tense quiet.

— What's wrong, princess?

It was Zach's voice, but there was something… off about it. For a moment, I didn't even register his words—only that strange glint in his eyes.

— You don't miss the ruler's bed, do you? Or perhaps the general's embrace?

I froze. So did the others. Chloe and David reached for their weapons immediately.

Zach leaned back with a grin.

— What? You don't like what I said? Did I hurt your feelings, Mother Teresa?

My stomach clenched. Not because of the words. Not even because of the mockery.

But because… that wasn't Zach.

The others reacted in an instant.

We moved into defensive positions.

— Don't move suddenly! — Chloe commanded in a low, firm voice. — That's not Zach.

The cold, lifeless light in Zach's eyes flickered, as if something was watching us from within.

— He's possessed, — I whispered.

— Yes, — Chloe replied. — And if we make a mistake now, we might lose more than just him.

I didn't understand. Could soul captives possess people too? I turned to Chloe in confusion.

— Yes, as you can see, — David added sharply. — But don't start learning now what you should've picked up during training. We have bigger problems.

He gestured towards Zach, who was still grinning wickedly. Whoever—or whatever—had taken over him, they were clearly enjoying themselves.

But before I could react, the boy sprang up with inhuman speed and attacked in an instant. My eyes couldn't even track the movements—he slashed Chloe's hand, then David's leg, before rushing towards Emily's throat.

Like an unleashed storm.

There was no time to think.

I ripped a small chunk of concrete from the ruined platform and, moving just as fast, smashed it against his head.

Zach's body trembled, his weapon slipped from his fingers, and he collapsed to the ground.

Heart pounding, breath ragged, I stared down at him. My fingers shook as I checked his pulse.

He was alive.

But the situation was far from over.

Before I could even catch my breath, a strong hand seized me, and the next moment, I was pinned to the ground.

The general's weight held me down, making sure I couldn't move. His grip wasn't painful, but it made one thing clear: if I resisted, he wouldn't hesitate to use force.

The black-clad soldiers stood in a circle, motionless, but I could feel their gazes on me. They said nothing, but their presence was almost tangible.

David and Chloe took a step back in surprise. Emily clutched her arm where Zach's blade had cut her skin, but her expression remained unreadable.

The general leaned directly over me, his gaze piercingly cold.

— Quick reflexes, — he said at last, approvingly. — Decisive. Instinctive.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep it steady.

— There was no time to think, — I replied quietly.

— Exactly.

With a single, fluid motion, he let go of me and stepped back.

Slowly, I got up, brushing the dust off my clothes. The black-clad soldiers watched silently. Their faces showed no emotion, but something in the atmosphere had shifted. There was no outright approval—but I was no longer just an outsider to them.

The lieutenant, who had been observing from a distance, tilted his head slightly, eyeing me.

— I wouldn't have thought you'd solve it that way, — he murmured. — But… it was effective.

The general nodded, then turned to Zach.

— Take him away, — he ordered. — We don't have time to waste.

The black-clad soldiers moved, and within moments, there was barely any trace of what had happened.

David stepped beside me, hesitated for a moment, then spoke quietly.

— The general looked at you with approval. That's not nothing.

I didn't reply, only watched as they carried Zach's body away.

The jeep swayed gently on the road, its headlights cutting through the night, casting long shadows on the dusty ground. The general drove in silence, while I sat in the back, my head resting against the glass. My thoughts raced, the events still refusing to form a coherent whole.

I couldn't hold back any longer.

— Where are they taking him? — I asked softly.

The general didn't hesitate with his answer.

— Somewhere safe. We need to get that thing out of him.

His words fell heavily between us. I didn't ask more. Not because I didn't want to, but because I sensed that now wasn't the time.

Back at the ruined headquarters, the others were already waiting. The dark-clad soldiers stood at their usual posts, motionless, but I could feel the change in the air.

Something had shifted.

We followed the general, and I silently trudged behind him. Seeing my companions, I felt a momentary relief—they were bandaged but safe.

The lieutenant took a deep breath, the general nodded, then continued his speech:

"Protectors, today was a tough day, but you stood your ground. You helped each other, and everyone in the team survived. You did everything your duty required of you."

The words faded into the air. I listened, but I didn't really absorb them. The lieutenant's words slid off me, as if I were hearing a generic military debriefing.

Then, suddenly, he looked me in the eye.

"Avarka. Zach. David. Emily. We thank you."

Silence followed. The others watched expectantly, but the lieutenant said nothing more.

"The service is over for today. Everyone can rest," he added, then stepped back, signaling he had nothing more to say.

Everyone dispersed, but something about it wouldn't let me rest. The last time someone sincerely thanked me for anything significant, I was a small child. I stopped one of the soldiers who was heading inside.

"Why did he only praise us? What happened with you all?"

The boy shrugged indifferently.

"Be glad your day was at least exciting. We didn't encounter a single soul, not even a blade of grass moved. I thought I'd die of boredom."

Oh, great. We were playing the Hunger Games while they were just strolling around? I thought bitterly.

I headed toward the barracks to finally wash my face, but I had barely taken a few steps when a deep, firm voice called out to me:

"Rookie, halt."

I stopped in my tracks and turned around. A dark-clad figure stood before me—one of the general's convoy.

"Get in the car," he gestured with his head.

I just stared at him for a moment.

"And where exactly are we going?" I asked slowly.

"There's not always time to rest," he said coolly.

I didn't have much choice. I climbed into the vehicle, just about to sigh when the general's voice cut through the silence from the front:

"That wasn't a fair fight."

I narrowed my eyes. Oh, not this again.

I was exhausted, starving, every muscle ached—and now I had to listen to this too.

"I did what I had to do," I replied curtly.

The general didn't look back, just kept his eyes on the road.

"That's not always how it works."

I clenched my jaw. My nerves were already stretched to the limit.

"And what was I supposed to do?!" I snapped. "Wait until the soul politely vacates the body? Or maybe kindly ask it to leave? Should I have invited it for tea before it attacked us?! Emily was about to have her throat slit! Do you really think if I told it, 'Hey, this isn't a fair fight,' it would drop the blade and challenge me to a fistfight instead?!"

A few seconds of silence followed. Then the general spoke softly:

"You have quite a mouth on you, you know that?"

His voice was cold, but there was something else in it… not mockery, not disdain. Maybe understanding.

"I'm just a realist," I muttered.

"We're going," he finally declared. "The others are resting, but we need to retrieve weapons. The magazines are empty; we have to replenish the supplies. And before we return, we'll inspect the city."

I sighed.

"And why is this my concern?"

"Because you're being punished," he said calmly. "And because the judgment demands it."

I frowned.

"Judgment?"

"You know very well that you have to serve here for a year. But the probation period here is like an unspoken promise. A promise, but not fully declared—so nothing is certain."

I said nothing. Just stared ahead.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" the general continued. "To protect your angelic family. To protect those who took you in."

"Yes," I said softly.

"Then we have no time to slack off. We're going for the weapons. What happened today cannot happen again at the border."

The vehicle sped up, and we slipped into the night.

When we arrived in the city, life was still bustling, but the atmosphere had noticeably changed. Near the academy, people stopped when they saw us—some only glanced at me briefly, others openly stared, mouths agape. I greeted a few, but there was no time to stop.

The general walked ahead, followed by a few dark-clad soldiers, and I brought up the rear. At the armory, we assessed the supplies, checked what was missing, and replenished the magazines before heading out again.

We scoured every corner of the city. Checked every defensive point, combed through every guard post. I felt like a lieutenant, ensuring everyone did their job properly. Maybe I would have even enjoyed the role—if I weren't drowning in exhaustion. But honestly, I wasn't going to complain. I was just drained from all the spirit-hunting. Every fiber of my body begged for sleep, but I barely managed to nap.

Before leaving the city, I learned that our next mission wasn't border defense. Instead, we had to go to Michael—we were to escort him somewhere. This time, I sat in a different car, somewhere in the back, among the other dark-clad soldiers, who—of course—stared straight ahead with impeccable poker faces. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and whispered to one of them:

"So… why exactly are we going to Michael? I mean… why is it always us escorting him?"

The soldier glanced at me briefly, then answered in a low, measured tone:

"A good soldier doesn't question orders."

Oh, I was home, I thought to myself. I had just started to get used to the lack of rigid, excessive seriousness… but I guess I was wrong.

Thinking about it, they weren't entirely wrong. This was their job. And if I was being honest, it was mine too. In some way, it even felt good—not that we kept the spirits from entering, but that we did something to protect those who mattered to us. Because I had heard—they hadn't let those spirits in. They had done something to them… We had held them back.

I leaned forward, resting my head against the window, but as my eyes began to close, I felt that familiar scent. A pair of eyes flashed in my mind—green, radiant… Then a meadow full of daffodils, running beneath pine trees. I felt something touch my wounds—the inner ones, too. As if someone cared about me. As if, for a moment, my soul felt lighter.

I suddenly woke up. The feeling still pulsed inside me, and a strange realization struck. I looked out the window and spotted an old tower. And then it hit me—that peculiar, all-encompassing certainty that often washed over me. As if I had been here before. As if I had made this exact movement. As if I had spoken this word before. As if I had lived this moment before. These déjà vu feelings are strange—yet they feel so true.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty, at one in the morning!" a soldier beside me quipped. "We're almost there."

"Stand by!" came the order.

"Weapons checked!" another confirmed.

"Everyone got a dagger? A combat knife? A baton? Smoke bombs?"

"Jesus, why are we so heavily armed?" I blurted out.

"Better question—why not?" one of the soldiers countered.

Oh great, another stiff group. Still, I checked my gear.

"Make sure you have your boots on!" a woman in the front seat called.

I knocked on the steel-toed boots.

"Already on."

"Good. Just in case you need to kick someone off a rooftop…"

Now that, I liked. That woman up front—ironic, but she had a sense of humor. I smiled.

The convoy finally stopped. We stepped out of the car and found ourselves in the vast cobblestone courtyard of Michael's mansion. In the distance, lights glowed through the evening haze. The general was already there, and Michael—his usual, larger-than-life self—awaited us with enthusiasm.

Then I heard his voice:

"Where's my little rebel?"

I stood beside the general, so when I stepped forward, Michael grinned.

"Where's my little troublemaker? My kung fu panda? Bring them here!"

The general seemed to roll his eyes for a brief moment.

"Don't forget what your job is," he looked at me firmly.

But I just grinned.

"Oh, come on, Gabriel. Why shouldn't we enjoy life a little?"

Gabriel. That was his name. I'd always been somewhat curious about what he was called. Of course, for me, he was still "the General"—that title suited him best. But I stored the information away nonetheless.

The convoy soon started moving, and we got into the car. We were already halfway when the General suddenly spoke up:

"By the way… do you know what kind of creatures attacked you?"

I had paid attention in class, of course. But I had been more focused on physically improving myself and perfecting my attacks.

"They were Soul Captives," I finally said.

"Yes, very good. And what type of Soul Captives?"

"Oh, there are different types?"

The General sighed, as if he was beginning to lose his patience. Michael, on the other hand, laughed.

"What's so funny?" the General asked him.

Michael smiled.

"Oh, come on, Gabriel. You and I both know you didn't learn this stuff for millennia either."

The General's eyes flashed.

I leaned back with a smirk. Well, this was going to be a long ride.

We had been traveling for quite some time, and the General had practically spoon-fed me a ton of information—something I was immensely grateful for in hindsight. Not just for the knowledge, but for his patience as well. I tried to take every advantage seriously, absorbing every single detail.

"So, repeat it once more!" he said seriously.

I took a deep breath and began to recite in an orderly manner.

"First-tier Soul Captives are the weakest. They exist, but they cannot interact with us or speak to us. The second tier can make contact with humans—not through words, but by inducing and manipulating emotions. The third category can touch us, but they cannot harm us. They, too, manipulate and can even speak to us. And finally, the fourth type: they can take on a human form, touch us, speak to us, and if they possess the right person, they can even harm us through them."

The General nodded.

"Very good. And what is secondary possession?"

"That's when a human willingly allows a Soul Captive to possess them. This way, they can attack us with combined strength. It's a connection between a separate soul and a human-hosted spirit, granting the possessor much greater power. And there's an even more dangerous version of this—when a human merges not with a Soul Captive, but with a demonic soul."

A faint look of satisfaction crossed the General's face.

"Very good."

But at that moment, Michael, who had been patiently listening until now, threw his head back with a dramatic sigh.

"Enough already!" he exclaimed. "I swear, this is like lieutenant training!"

The General shot him a contemptuous glance but didn't respond.

Michael grinned and winked at me.

"Oh, come on! Don't be so stiff! Who wants to talk about these savages at four in the morning?" He turned to me with an easygoing smile. "Relax, little girl, I'll save you from the early morning gloom." He winked again.

I was just about to reply when the car stopped in front of a larger building. The neon lights flickered dimly in the night, and while from the outside it looked like a nightclub, there was something… off about it. Maybe the structure, maybe the eerie silence surrounding it.

We started heading inside.

"You're not coming," the General suddenly said, looking at me.

I narrowed my eyes.

"What do you mean, I'm not?"

"There will be four main teams. The first will guard the front, the second the back, the third the left, and the fourth the right. You'll go with the rear team."

Michael snorted.

"Oh, come on, of course she's coming with us! I need an escort."

A shadow of impatience passed over the General's face.

"We're not here for a circus; we're here to follow orders," he said firmly. "Protecting you doesn't mean you get to decide what my men do."

Michael leaned back with an amused expression, clearly enjoying the situation.

"And I'm your charge," he raised his hands. "And tonight, we have serious matters to discuss. But I still need an escort."

The General silently weighed the situation for a moment, then let out a tired sigh and gave a small nod.

And so, I ended up walking beside Michael into the building.

As we moved forward, the teams dispersed. We found ourselves in a modern, elegant lobby, its walls bathed in a soft golden light. We passed through one door, then another, until we finally stopped before a reinforced metal door. The cold steel felt distinctly different from the others.

I pondered. If a simple building could be fortified and hidden from the world like this, then why had I ever thought the existence of multiple worlds was so unbelievable? With enough money, the line between reality and illusion could be erased—though maybe illusion was never truly just an illusion.

Finally, we entered the main hall.

Ten people were inside. Power radiated from five of them—the other five were clearly their guards. There was no question who was who.

I briefly took in their clothing, their weapons—after months of training, I now automatically assessed everything. A tiny hand movement, the subtle shift of a gun holster—any of these could be revealing. I had to note what they carried and where they positioned themselves. You never knew when they would become the enemy while we were here.

Three of the guards slowly left.

Only two remained.

And so, I stood beside Michael in an unfamiliar, tense atmosphere, where anything could happen at any moment.

The man who stepped forward barely nodded.

"We've been expecting you."

Michael grinned.

"Well then, let's get started."

And the room slowly fell silent.

The silence was almost tangible as the guards took their positions and the doors shut behind us. Michael stepped forward with his usual relaxed confidence, as if greeting an old friend, but there was a tense, electrified uncertainty in the air. The two remaining guards stood motionless, their gazes scrutinizing every movement—ours.

The man beside me stood tall, his hands loosely clasped in front of him, but I could feel that every fiber of his being was poised for action. I couldn't ignore the fact that his presence was part of a larger plan—one I had yet to fully understand.

Michael finally stopped at the far end of the table, slowly letting his gaze sweep over the figures opposite him.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," he said lightly, as if this were just a business meeting. "Let's begin this little discussion before we all get so bored that we start killing each other."

A tall, dark-eyed man stepped forward.

"You're not here to talk, Michael," he said quietly, but every word was firm. "You know why we called you here."

Michael smiled.

"Oh, please! Let's not pretend we don't enjoy this. You know how much I love negotiations…"

The man's face remained unreadable.

"Don't waste our time. You know what's happening at the borders. The Soul Captives are growing in number, and they're becoming more dangerous. The balance has been disrupted."

Michael tilted his head slightly, as if trying to recall an old, familiar tune.

"Balance…" he echoed softly. "What a lovely word. Too bad it no longer exists."

The weight of the statement hung heavy in the air. The shadows seemed longer, the lights dimmer.

The man slowly nodded.

"Then we agree."

A brief silence fell, as if everyone had collectively held their breath.

Michael smirked.

"Great. So, tell me—what is it you really want from me? This problem isn't new. Don't tell me you suddenly care so much."

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a small, black metal box. He placed it on the table and tapped it with his finger.

"This."

Michael's smile froze for a fraction of a second.

And I just stood there, watching. I didn't know exactly what was going on… but I could feel that what I was witnessing was part of something far bigger than I had ever imagined.

The black box landed softly on the table with a quiet thud. The weight of the moment pressed down on us; it was as if the walls of the room had drawn closer, trapping us between unspoken words and tense thoughts. The faint smile that had lingered on Michael's face vanished in an instant, his features hardening. Every movement was deliberate: one of the women slowly circled the table, the echo of her boots tapping against the floor filling the silence of the room.

Every muscle in my body tensed. There was no time for hesitation. The floor beneath me seemed to tremble as I leaned forward, poised to spring, my fingers brushing the hilt of my weapon. I knew I couldn't make a rash move, but readiness burned in my veins. The guards were not idle either; though they remained still, their vigilance was palpable in the air.

The woman finally stopped, took a deep breath, and spoke:

— We, too, are modernizing, not just the humans. We are trying to do everything necessary.

She paused for a moment, scanning us with her gaze. Then, she pointed at the box.

— This device can extract the souls that have been lingering in this world for millennia, those who fail over and over again and never find their way back to the right path. Those who are not demons, yet are still lost.

I lifted my head.

— Are you saying that a machine can decide who deserves another chance and who doesn't? — came an incredulous male voice.

The woman gave a faint smile.

— With this little device, we can filter. We can offer a chance to those who are truly ready to cleanse themselves. We call it the Pathgiver.

Michael stepped forward then. He didn't raise his voice, but every word cut like a blade.

— By what right? — he asked quietly, yet his emotions seethed beneath the surface. — By what right do you play the role of the Creator? By what right do you decide who is worthy and who is not?

The woman met his gaze, but Michael continued.

— The fate of the soul has always been to choose its own path. Even if it fails. Even if it goes astray. The law of existence does not change just because you have invented a new device.

He raised his hand, pointing a finger at the box.

— And what if this device is wrong? What if it erases those who could still change? What if what you now call "cleansing" turns out to be the greatest mistake you've ever made?

The woman's face remained firm, but her eyes flashed.

— Michael, you always approach these things too emotionally. That's not what this is about. The Pathgiver can purify even the darkest souls.

Michael let out a quiet laugh—bitter, rather than amused.

— Do you seriously believe that a machine can just… "suck out the evil" and everything will be fine? As if life were that simple? As if sin and purity could be decided with the press of a button?

He snorted and took a step forward.

— You've lost your minds in this modern age. Life is not a software program that can be rewritten. It's not a corrupted file you can simply reinstall if it malfunctions. A soul needs time, it needs experience. A machine does not decide who is worthy and who is not!

The tension in the room became almost tangible. Some around the table nodded in agreement, while others exchanged uncertain glances. The woman, however, remained unwavering.

— The world is changing, Michael. Humans are delving deeper into things they do not understand. They summon, they search, they experiment, they keep objects bound to souls. They create imbalances. Their attachment to the past causes more and more souls to remain trapped on Earth. With this device, we can help them move on.

Michael shook his head.

— A soul is not a river that can be controlled by building a single dam. The rain falls, it soaks into the ground, and then it falls again. If you trap it, if you forcefully direct it, you only disrupt the balance. We would be no better than the humans—who, by the way, do this unknowingly. They are merely curious about our world. They miss a relative, a loved one. They don't trap souls with objects; they simply remember the one who owned them. They don't know what this means for the soul. Not all of them do.

The argument grew more heated, and I observed. I watched the woman's expression, Michael's gestures, the reactions of those seated on the other side of the table. I listened to the whispers at the edges of the room. Some leaned in close, murmuring words I couldn't hear.

Then, suddenly, Michael stepped back. Without a word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

For a moment, everyone froze in place. Then, I lifted my head, took a few steps back, and followed him. I knew this matter wasn't over—if anything, it had only just begun.

Inside the car, silence reigned. The low hum of the engine drowned out the distant noise, but it couldn't dispel the tension. As Michael got in, something flickered across his face—a thought, a feeling, impossible to decipher. He didn't look at me, only stared ahead, motionless. I got in after him, and the car pulled away.

The convoy moved steadily through the night. The outside world blurred into shadows, streetlights casting fleeting glows in Michael's dark eyes. The farseer sat in the car—I hadn't even noticed where he had been until now.

Half an hour passed like this. My thoughts raced, but I had no idea what was going through Michael's mind. He was clearly in no mood. I didn't even know what would be appropriate—should I speak? Remain silent?

Eventually, the convoy stopped in front of a nightclub. The door of the first car opened, and everyone stepped out, waiting. Someone approached Michael, opening his door. For a moment, he remained inside, then slowly got out. He stood by the door and simply looked at us.

— I'm going to calm down now — he said at last, quietly. — Your shift is over.

He glanced at the general, his expression unreadable, then slammed the door behind him and disappeared into the night. Five figures followed him, silent shadows.

The general was the one driving. The engine growled again, and the vehicle slowly rolled forward. The silence still hung in the air, but I couldn't hold back. The words slipped out half-muttered:

— Well, that's one way to calm down…

There was sarcasm in my voice, exhaustion, maybe even a hint of disdain. I thought this situation was far too serious to drown in alcohol.

The general didn't react immediately, but then spoke with authority:

— This is not our concern. Whatever happens in those chambers, in one ear and out the other. We protect and serve. What our charges do or don't do is not our business.

I gazed at the nighttime city, the streets teeming with people who had no idea about the debates taking place behind closed doors. The general was right. This was not my place.

These problems had existed long before I was aware of them. They had been solved before, and they would be solved again.

Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

That thought flickered through my mind—I wasn't even sure where it came from. Maybe an old memory, maybe from somewhere deep in the past. For a brief moment, a sense of déjà vu washed over me.

By the time we returned to the academy, dawn was breaking. The sky's edge had begun to glow with a faint pink hue, but the exhaustion of the night had not yet lifted.

Finally, I could return to my room. The mattress sank invitingly beneath me as I lay down, but sleep refused to claim me. The thoughts kept churning in my head.

Then, just as my eyes closed, just as I managed a few sweet hours of slumber, a loud pounding shattered the silence.

I jolted awake.

On the other side of the door, a lieutenant stood.

— Get up! — he commanded firmly, holding something out to me.

He pressed a watch into my hands. I stared at him in confusion.

— What is this?

"Heart rate monitor," he replied calmly. "Today, you'll be running around the academy. It will measure your speed, agility, and reflexes. There will be obstacles on the track. You must avoid them while maintaining your balance and pace."

I stared at him for a moment before sighing tiredly.

"Great…" I muttered under my breath.

I quickly pulled myself together—showered, changed, and tied my hair up. The morning air was crisp as I stepped onto the track.

The course was no joke. The obstacles varied—low walls to vault over, beams to balance on, and sinking platforms that tested reflexes.

With every step, I kept an eye on the watch. The numbers ticked away relentlessly, recording my data. My breath grew short, my pulse quickened, but I couldn't afford to slow down.

At one of the obstacles, I stumbled slightly, my foot nearly slipping on the wet plank. But adrenaline surged through me, my body remembered the movements, and my muscles corrected the mistake automatically.

By the time I reached the final stretch, I could taste victory. My chest rose and fell with my breathing, my fingers clenched as I made the last jump.

And then…

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something.

The lieutenants were watching. One of them had a faint smirk, but his gaze gave nothing away. And before I could savor my success, someone else was looking at me—an intense, commanding stare.

The General.

Even though I had reached the finish line with success in my veins, I held back my smile. It seemed like that expression was foreign to him, so I kept my joy to myself and left the glory to the training officers.

His voice rang out, cold and precise:

"Pull yourself together. We're leaving."

The adrenaline in my veins transformed into a different kind of pulse. The fatigue in my muscles suddenly felt insignificant.

To my surprise, he started running, and I had no choice but to follow, no matter how badly I wanted to sit down.

The cold air burned my lungs as my legs carried me forward at increasing speed. My muscles protested, but I didn't stop. In the pale glow of the lamps, the track seemed endless—as if I would have to keep running until I became one with its rhythm, its pain.

I didn't slow for a second, but the thought flashed through my mind: Where are we going this time?

"To real training."

Damn it, I said that out loud again.

His voice was steady, but I sensed something beneath it. Maybe… recognition?

"The recruits who didn't belong here have been weeded out. But you—you're meant to serve here."

"Why?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

The General ran beside me, his movements effortless, as if exhaustion was a foreign concept to him. For a moment, he glanced at me, and the faintest, barely noticeable smirk crossed his lips.

"You earned it," he said. His tone remained neutral, but there was something else there too. "Not in a good way… but even if things had turned out differently, you would have stayed. You've proven to be a good fighter."

I couldn't stop the small smile creeping onto my face. Not that such a compliment meant much, but still… it felt good.

"And the border?" I asked, rightfully so.

"The border is another unit's concern now. Your job is to learn—better than ever before. Soon, you'll be moved to the base on the highest peak. That will be your home."

As the track pulsed beneath me and the General's shadow moved alongside mine, I felt something shift inside me. As if something had been decided, irrevocably.

This path was the only one I could take.

My steps slowed as the General motioned for me to follow. I didn't ask any more questions. I didn't need to. The fire of the run still burned in my legs, but now, it wasn't about escaping. Now, I knew—this was only the beginning.

He spoke, and I reflected. Running, but lost in thought. And as the General's words echoed in my mind, everything became clearer:

"This city is not the heart.

This city is survival.

Your training so far was just the foundation. Now comes the real trial."

Was I afraid?

Not anymore.

I no longer wanted to be a recruit. I no longer wanted to rely on anyone's protection. I had to become stronger—not just for myself, but because I was beginning to understand that the world was far more complex than I had ever imagined.

The system we were part of operated under laws I had never suspected. Here, the question wasn't just about who was human and who was an angel.

The soul wasn't just a force that moved us—it was the connection between past and future.

And I wanted to know what happened to a soul.

What became of those who vanished?

What happened to those who were reborn?

And what was that ultimate awareness that only a few could reach?

Who was I in my full consciousness?

I had to stay if I wanted to find out.

The theoretical lessons sometimes felt longer than the physical training, yet every word burned itself into my mind.

Stories I had never heard.

Systems that controlled our world.

The laws that the dark-clad figures protected—and that, at times, even the ruler broke.

I absorbed everything.

Because even then, my human instinct—my curiosity—drove me.

I think this is what happens when the voice inside us also wants to know what's really going on around it.

Time didn't pass—it melted, condensed, became a single monotonous pulse.

We woke before dawn, collapsed after midnight, but sleep never brought rest—only the ominous promise of the next day.

There was nothing else in my life but battle and learning…