Chapter 3

They pulled away from the industrial site, Roy watched the dust cloud rising from the destroyed factory through the rear window. A week ago, he'd been a normal university student. Now he was hunting monsters and talking about power rankings as casually as discussing the weather.

"We'll head back to base for debrief," Elliot announced, navigating the van onto a rural road. "Then you're on standby for the next assignment."

Cade narrowed his eyes at Elliot. "By the way old man, shouldn't your break be over already? Don't make Mark suffer more and head back to the HQ for take over."

Elliot chuckled, a low rumble that filled the front of the van. "Mark can handle himself. He's been complaining about my 'micromanaging' for years anyway."

"He's just being polite," Cade retorted. "We both know he's drowning in paperwork right now while you're out here playing field agent."

Roy glanced between them, catching glimpses of a dynamic that clearly had history. "Mark? There's a headquarters?"

Elliot's eyes met Roy's in the rearview mirror. "Mark is the Deputy Grandmaster. And yes, the Order has a proper headquarters—that church is just one of our local outposts."

"The HQ is where the real work happens," Cade added, his tone suggesting he wasn't particularly fond of the place. "Command center, research labs, proper training facilities."

"And endless meetings," Elliot said with a hint of weariness. "Which is precisely why I occasionally take these… extended field assessments."

Cade snorted. "You mean vacations."

Elliot turned the van onto a highway heading back toward the city. "I believe in leading from the front, not from behind a desk. But," he sighed, "Cade's right. My 'break' should have ended a week ago."

"So I'll be going to headquarters?" Roy asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

"Eventually," Elliot replied. "But not yet. You need more field experience first. The HQ is… political. Too many agendas, too many eyes watching."

Cade leaned his head back against the seat. "Better to learn the ropes away from the spotlight. Trust me on that."

"Let me explain how Orders management works. Should have done that days ago anyway." Cade sighed seeing Roy's confused face.

"Its made up of three distinct institutions— The agency, the table, and the…court. We are part of the agency, the part that fights. Its top position is grandmaster," He pointed at Elliot and continued. "The table are the people on top. Making rules and decisions, made up of 18 individuals.

"One individual has the voting power of 1. Grandmaster has the voting power of 5."

Roy processed this new information as they sped down the highway, the city lights fading behind them. "So the Grandmasters have considerable influence, but not absolute control."

"Exactly," Cade confirmed, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "The Table makes all major policy decisions for the Order—resource allocation, mission priorities, research directives."

"And who are these other eighteen?" Roy asked, shifting in his seat.

"Various stakeholders," Cade replied. "Former field commanders who've retired from active duty. Scientists who pioneered our technology. A few outsiders who've proven their worth over decades of service."

"Outsiders?" Roy raised an eyebrow.

"We maintain relationships with certain government agencies, corporations, and independent specialists," Cade explained. "Some eventually earn enough trust to join the Table."

"And the Court?" Roy asked. "You mentioned three institutions."

A shadow crossed Cade's face. "The Court is… complicated. It is ruled by one individual— the judge. At first the Order only had 2 institutions, but the judge created the court. Its the place where our most elite, most powerful people are in. By the way, the judge is our only S-rank member."

Roy leaned forward, intrigued by the mention of the S-rank judge. "So this judge—they're powerful enough to destroy an entire city by themselves?"

Elliot exchanged a glance with Cade through the rearview mirror. "In theory," he said carefully. "S-rank potential is… difficult to quantify. The judge hasn't needed to demonstrate full capacity in decades."

"And that's a good thing," Cade added, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "The last time an S-rank went all out was before either of us was born. It was the dark era."

At the mention of that word, both of their faces darkened. "You… you know what caused the dark era?" Roy asked in surprise.

The dark era— a forgotten time in human history. Nobody knows what caused it, but certainly it was bloody. During its time technology degraded and humans died in droves. Archaeologists even found mountains of corpses from it.

It was a century ago. A time when Elliot was but just a boy.

"The dark era…" Elliot's voice grew distant, his eyes focusing on something beyond the windshield. "I was just a boy when it ended. The beginning? That's something only found in classified Order archives now."

The van fell silent as they drove, the only sound the hum of tires on asphalt. Roy waited, sensing there was more to come.

"What they teach in schools is sanitized history," Cade finally said. "The 'technological regression' and 'population decline' they mention? That was the aftermath of an conflict: Order versus Foundation."

The words coming from Cade sounded imposing. Like something grand was being said.

"The foundation…lost. Wiped from the face of the earth. Back then Order was a newly risen organization, battling the old and powerful Foundation. It was surprising that they won. That's the story of how Order rose to the peak."

"Its leader was—" Before Cade could finish the sentence, Elliot lashed out unnaturally. "We don't mention his name!" He looked over at Roy. "The only thing you should know is that the Foundation was like his dog on a leach. He created it for the sole reason of granting himself more resources. Luckily, he's dead now."

Roy stared at Elliot, taken aback by the sudden outburst. The grandmaster's knuckles had gone white on the steering wheel, his usual composed demeanor cracked to reveal something raw underneath.

"Sorry," Elliot said after a moment, his voice returning to its usual measured tone. "Some wounds never fully heal, even after a century."

Cade shot Roy a warning glance that clearly said: drop it. The remainder of the drive passed in uncomfortable silence, the weight of unspoken history hanging in the air.

When they finally reached the church, Roy felt relief washing over him. The building that had seemed so ominous just a week ago now felt oddly like coming home.

"Get some rest," Elliot instructed as they unloaded the gear. "I'll be heading to headquarters tomorrow. Cade will continue your training in my absence."

"Great," Cade said dryly. "More babysitting duty."

"You were the one who recruited him," Elliot reminded him with a slight smile. "Besides, his progress has been… remarkable. Keep pushing him."

After Elliot departed to his quarters in a small room at the back of the church, Roy helped Cade clean and store their weapons. The blond youth worked methodically, his movements practiced and efficient.

"So," Roy ventured, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. "What's the real story with the Foundation? And who was—"

"Don't," Cade cut him off sharply. "You heard Elliot. Some things are better left buried."

Roy persisted. "But if I'm risking my life for the Order, don't I deserve to know its history?"

Cade set down the rifle he was cleaning with deliberate care. "History is written by the victors, rookie. That's all you need to know for now." He paused, then added more quietly, "Besides, every agent has their clearance level. Yours doesn't include ancient history yet."

"When does it?" Roy asked.

"When you've proven yourself," Cade replied, returning to his task. "When we're sure of your loyalty."

Roy frowned. "You injected me with S12, turned me into something more than human, but you don't trust me with the truth?"

Cade's eyes flashed. "The S12 can be neutralized if necessary. Knowledge can't be taken back once it's given."

That night, Roy lay on his cot in the small room they'd set up for him in the church basement, staring at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn't come. His mind replayed the day's events—the chimera swarm, Cade's devastating display of power, and the tension when the Foundation was mentioned.

The Order, the Table, the Court. A hierarchy of power and secrets. What had he gotten himself into?

His phone buzzed with a text from his university classmate, wondering where he'd been all week. Roy stared at it, unsure how to respond. His old life seemed impossibly distant now, belonging to a different person entirely.

He typed a simple response about being sick, knowing it wouldn't hold up for long. Eventually, he'd have to make a choice about that life—continue the pretense or let it go completely.

The next morning, Elliot was already gone when Roy emerged from the basement. Cade stood waiting, dressed in simple workout clothes rather than combat gear.

"Today we measure your rank properly," he announced without preamble.

Roy followed him to an area they hadn't used before—a reinforced chamber with what looked like medical equipment along one wall and training dummies positioned throughout.

"We need to quantify your abilities," Cade explained, attaching sensors to Roy's temples and wrists. "Power output, reaction time, cognitive processing under stress."

The tests lasted hours. Roy punched through materials of increasing density, ran until his lungs burned, solved complex tactical scenarios while dodging automated projectiles. By the end, he was drenched in sweat, muscles screaming.

Cade studied the readouts on a tablet, his expression unreadable.

"Well?" Roy asked, gulping water from a bottle. "What's the verdict?"

"Interesting," Cade said, his eyes still on the data. "Your baseline physical abilities put you at high D-rank, approaching C. But your neural patterns…"

"What about them?"

Cade looked up, meeting Roy's eyes directly. "They're atypical. Your response to S12 isn't standard. The integration is more complete than we usually see in new recruits."

"Is that good or bad?" Roy asked, suddenly apprehensive.

"It's… unusual," Cade said carefully. "I've seen similar patterns before, but only in subjects with specific genetic markers."

"What kind of markers?"

Before Cade could answer, a shrill alarm cut through the air. He immediately dropped the tablet and reached for his phone.

"Emergency alert," he said, reading the message. "Chimera outbreak in the financial district. C-rank threat."

Roy's heart rate spiked. "C-rank? Is that—"

"Yes," Cade confirmed, already moving toward the weapons cache. "More dangerous than what we faced yesterday. Significantly more."

Roy followed, adrenaline replacing his fatigue. "But you're B-rank. You can handle it, right?"

Cade tossed him a tactical vest. "Theoretically. But C-ranks are unpredictable. Some have abilities that can neutralize raw power advantages. We're not taking chances."

They geared up quickly and headed for the van. As Cade drove, he briefed Roy on what they knew.

"Reports of multiple casualties in the Morgan Finance Tower. Some kind of airborne toxin. Building's on lockdown, but whatever's inside is still active."

Roy checked his weapons, trying to maintain calm. "What's the plan?"

"Locate, contain, neutralize," Cade replied, weaving through traffic at dangerous speeds. "And stay close to me. This isn't a training exercise."

The city center loomed ahead, emergency vehicles blocking off streets around a gleaming skyscraper. Police held the perimeter, but they looked uncertain, out of their depth.

Cade flashed an ID as they approached a barricade. The officers stepped aside immediately.

"Order business," he said simply, and no further questions were asked.

They entered through a service entrance, the building eerily silent. Emergency lighting cast red shadows across the marble lobby.

"Masks on," Cade instructed, pulling up specialized breathing gear. "Reports mentioned toxins."

They moved through the building methodically, clearing each floor. Bodies lay where they had fallen—office workers frozen in their final moments, expressions of terror fixed on their faces.

"What could do this?" Roy whispered, fighting nausea.

"Stay focused," Cade replied. "And watch for—"

A shriek cut through the air, inhuman and piercing. Roy's hand flew to his weapon.

"Fourteenth floor," Cade said, heading for the stairs. Elevators would be too risky.

They climbed in silence, senses alert for any movement. The stairwell echoed with their footsteps despite their attempts at stealth.

When they reached the fourteenth floor, Cade held up a hand, signaling Roy to wait. He peered through the small window in the door, then pulled back.

"I see it," he whispered. "Chimera. Humanoid, but with some kind of sac-like protrusions along its spine. Probably where the toxin comes from."

"How do we approach?" Roy asked, trying to recall his training.

"I'll go first, draw its attention. You circle around through the far entrance and flank it. Aim for the head or those sacs—either should disable it temporarily."

Roy nodded, grateful for the clear instructions. They synchronized their watches.

"On my mark. Three, two, one…"

Cade burst through the door, drawing the creature's immediate attention. Roy counted to five, then slipped through the far entrance as planned. The sight that greeted him froze him in place momentarily.

The chimera stood eight feet tall, its body unnaturally thin yet corded with visible muscle. What had once been a human face was now stretched over an elongated skull, mouth distended into something resembling a beak. The sacs along its spine pulsated rhythmically, releasing faint wisps of greenish gas.

It moved with terrible speed, lunging at Cade who dodged with equal quickness. They engaged in a deadly dance, Cade slashing with his sword, the creature responding with swipes of elongated, razor-sharp fingers.

Roy shook off his shock and moved into position, rifle raised. He waited for a clear shot, trying to time the creature's movements. When Cade momentarily pinned it against a desk, Roy fired three rapid shots at the largest sac on its spine.

The sac burst, spraying fluid and gas. The chimera let out a screech of pain and fury, whirling toward Roy with unnatural speed.

"Roy, down!" Cade shouted.

Roy dropped as Cade's blade sliced through the air where he'd been standing, catching the chimera across its chest. The creature staggered but didn't fall.

Instead, the remaining sacs began to pulse more rapidly, filling the air with thicker clouds of the toxin. Even through his mask, Roy could feel it burning his eyes, making his head swim.

"We need to end this now," Cade grunted, visibly struggling against the effects himself. "On three, both shoot for the head. One, two—"

The chimera suddenly lurched forward with unexpected speed, catching Cade off guard. Its claws raked across his chest, shredding his tactical vest. Cade stumbled backward, momentarily vulnerable.

Roy didn't hesitate. He emptied his clip into the creature's head and neck, each shot finding its mark with precision he didn't know he possessed. The chimera jerked with each impact, green-tinged fluid spraying from the wounds.

It let out one final, guttural shriek before collapsing to the floor, its limbs twitching in death spasms.

Roy rushed to Cade, who had slumped against a wall, hand pressed to his chest.

"I'm fine," Cade said through gritted teeth, though the blood seeping between his fingers suggested otherwise. "Suit took most of it."

"We need to get you medical attention," Roy insisted, already helping him to his feet.

"Not yet. Need to secure the site first," Cade pulled a device from his pocket—something like a grenade. "Neutralizer. Will clean the air. Then we call in the cleanup team."

He tossed the device toward the chimera's body. It hissed open, releasing a counteragent that quickly dissipated the greenish toxin.

Roy supported Cade as they made their way back to the stairs, the adrenaline of the encounter beginning to fade. With each step, the reality of what they'd just faced—and what he'd just done—settled on Roy's shoulders. He'd killed a creature that had once been at least partly human.

"You did good," Cade said quietly as they descended, reading Roy's troubled expression. "That thing stopped being human long ago. You saved lives today—including mine."

Outside, a nondescript black van was already waiting—the cleanup team, Cade explained. They would sanitize the scene, removing evidence of the chimera and fabricating a cover story for the public. Gas leak, perhaps, or terrorist attack.

In the relative safety of their own vehicle, Cade finally allowed Roy to examine his wounds. Three deep gashes across his chest, ugly but not life-threatening.

"First aid kit under your seat," Cade directed, peeling off the remains of his tactical vest.

Roy worked quickly, cleaning and bandaging the wounds as best he could. "Shouldn't we get you to a hospital?"

Cade snorted. "And explain this how? No, we have our own medical facilities. I'll be fine until we reach base."

As Roy finished securing the bandages, Cade grabbed his wrist suddenly. "That was C-rank," he said, his eyes intense. "You took it down when I couldn't. Think about what that means."

Roy frowned. "I got lucky. You'd weakened it already."

"No," Cade shook his head. "Your shots were perfect—placement, timing, everything. And you resisted the toxin better than I did." He paused. "There's something different about you, Roy. Something Elliot suspected from the beginning."

"What do you mean?"

Before Cade could answer, his phone buzzed. He checked the message, his expression darkening.

"Change of plans," he said, starting the engine. "We're not going back to the church."

"Where are we going?"