Chapter 6 - The First Encounter Part 2

After a few minutes, the towering walls of the Citadel appeared in full view.

The teenagers gasped. It looked like something out of a fantasy novel.

As they descended toward the front gates, Protheus flicked his hand.

The gates opened with a deep, rumbling sound.

The flying magic gently placed the teenagers on the ground.

They stood there, wide-eyed, taking it all in.

"Welcome to The Citadel of Eternal Hope and this will be your new home." Protheus said.

The teenagers hesitated for a moment. Then slowly, one by one, they enter the gate and walked towards the citadel.

Behind them, the gates closed with a thundering boom.

Safe.

Finally, safe.

Protheus watched them quietly, already planning.

They would need food, clothing, training.

They were weak now — but with his help, they could become warriors, mages, protectors of the new world.

"This is just the beginning," he thought.

The world had fallen into ruin — but from the ashes, something greater would rise.

And Protheus would lead it.

— Unknown Agency, Briefing Room—

Inside a quiet underground room, two men stood before a huge screen. On it was a clear satellite image of a massive citadel, standing proud among the ruins of Metro Manila.

Thick walls, twenty-one meters high. Strong towers engraved with magical runes. A place that looked like it belonged in a fantasy world.

One of the men, holding a tablet, began his report.

"2 weeks ago, the individual we now refer to as the "White Archmage" appeared in Metro Manila," he said. "He took control of the shopping mall and built citadel by himself."

He tapped his tablet.

The screen changed to show stone golems moving heavy debris and shaping the walls.

"No heavy machines. No human teams. We only detect stone golems and magic that we don't have any knowledge."

The man swallowed before continuing.

"In a world where unknown awakened people are appearing everywhere," he said carefully, "This 'White Archmage' stands apart. He's operating on a level we've never seen."

The Director, a middle-aged man with blue and sharp eyes and blonde hair — stood silent, arms crossed, watching.

The man spoke again.

"We scanned the Citadel from orbit. Magic readings are extremely high. The walls are reinforced by spells stronger than anything we've encountered. They would survive direct missile strikes, possibly even higher threats."

The Director remained silent.

The man tapped the screen again.

"We also observed the White Archmage clearing out monsters near his territory. Every action precise. No wasted energy. No structural damage."

He paused.

"There's something else," he said.

"The White Archmage encountered a group of survivors."

The Director's brow raised slightly.

"Mostly aged fifteen to seventeen. Some armed with medieval weapons. Some possessing minor magical or healing abilities."

The man shifted his weight.

"We detected a magical reaction," he said cautiously. "The White Archmage cast an unknown spell on them."

The Director's gaze sharpened.

"Unknown?"

The man nodded.

"We detected the spell energy. But its nature, purpose, and mechanics… are beyond our current understanding."

He hesitated.

"We know it wasn't an attack. No damage. But beyond that, we can't classify it."

The Director said nothing for a moment, then finally asked:

"After the spell?"

"He brought the teenagers inside the Citadel," the man replied.

"No hostility. They appear to have been accepted under his protection."

Silence filled the room for several long seconds.

The Director turned his back to the screen, deep in thought.

"Recommendation?" he asked quietly.

"Observation only," the man answered immediately. "No contact. No interference."

He hesitated before adding:

"If the White Archmage is hostile…conventional forces won't stop him."

The Director gave a short nod.

"Continue observation. Keep it off military channels. We need more data before anyone else finds out."

He glanced back at the image of the massive fortress rising from the ruins.

"In a world where awakened people grow stronger every day… the White Archmage is in a class of his own."

He walked away, leaving the glowing image of the Citadel floating silently in the darkened room.

— The Teenagers, Citadel grounds —

The teenagers moved slowly, almost in a daze.

Twenty of them, battered and weary, their torn clothes and bruised faces telling the story of the battles they had survived.

Their weapons — chipped swords, battered shields, cracked bows — clattered softly as they walked across the wide stone streets.

They had seen ruined cities.

They had seen death and monsters.

They had seen the worst the world could offer.

But they had never seen anything like this.

Towering white walls surrounded them, shining under the sun.

The wide streets were clean, lined with neat gardens and soft floating lights.

Strong stone golems moved silently around, tending to the grounds like gentle giants.

The air smelled of fresh grass and clean stone — not blood, not smoke.

"This can't be real…" whispered Patricia Gomez, her voice cracking.

Mark Villanueva rubbed his eyes roughly, as if trying to wake up.

"It's… too perfect," muttered Rafael Mendoza, gripping his sister Maria's hand tightly.

Their hearts, hardened by endless danger, began to crack —not from fear — but from something they almost forgot they could feel.

Hope.

Real, aching, painful hope.

Protheus walked ahead of them, his white cloak fluttering softly.

He said nothing, giving them time to breathe, to absorb it all.

They passed beautiful gardens, fountains with crystal-clear water, sturdy stone towers that rose proudly against the blue sky.

Everything here was strong. Unbreakable and safe.

Tears pricked Angela Reyes' eyes.

"Is this… really safe?" she whispered.

Joshua Dela Cruz squeezed her shoulder gently.

"We're alive, Ange," he said softly.

"And whoever this guy is… he saved us."

Protheus finally stopped in front of a tall, beautiful building.

It was a condominium tower — easily twenty stories high — built of smooth white stone and elegant glass windows.

It looked untouched by the chaos of the world.

"This is where you will stay," Protheus said calmly.

He gestured to the wide, clear entrance.

The glass-like doors shimmered slightly, held open by unseen magic.

Inside, the lobby was a marvel.

Polished marble floors gleamed under the floating lights.

Soft couches and indoor gardens decorated the space.

An atmosphere of peace and comfort embraced them the moment they entered.

Some of the teenagers hesitated.

Some clutched their weapons tighter.

Some simply stood still, afraid to believe that they were safe.

"You may put down your arms," Protheus said gently.

"No harm will come to you here."

Slowly, Rafael lowered his sword.

Maria let her cracked shield fall against her side.

The others followed, one by one, as if shedding the weight of months of fear.

"You deserve rest," Protheus said.

He led them to a set of magical elevators.

The teenagers marveled as the soft chime sounded and the doors opened.

Inside the elevators, they squeezed in awkwardly, some laughing nervously.

It had been so long since they had seen anything like this — normal, clean, untouched.

When the doors opened again, they stepped out onto a clean, soft-carpeted hallway.

Protheus led them to a row of doors and waved his hand.

The locks clicked open softly.

Inside the rooms, they found:

Wide, soft beds.

Small cozy living areas.

Private bathrooms with working showers.

Balcony showing breathtaking views of the Citadel.

Joshua gasped and spun around.

"This is… like a hotel!"

Sofia ran to the bathroom, turned the faucet — and clean, warm water poured out.

She shrieked in delight.

Vincent Perez fell face-first onto one of the beds.

"It's so soft…" he mumbled into the blankets.

Protheus allowed himself a small, unseen smile.

"You may choose your rooms freely," he said.

Those of you who are family may stay together."

Rafael immediately grabbed Maria's hand.

"We stay together," he said firmly.

Joshua and Sofia, the Dela Cruz twins, high-fived each other.

Vincent clung to Janine's side.

Others grouped themselves naturally — siblings, cousins, close friends.

The bonds they had forged through fire could not be broken easily.

After a few minutes of laughter, light bickering, and exploring, the teenagers began to settle into their rooms.

Protheus turned to leave — but Maria Mendoza called out, hesitantly:

"Sir… may we ask something?"

He paused and looked back.

She fidgeted, then asked:

"You don't look… like us. You seem like someone from the West. But you understand us perfectly. You even speak like us. How?"

The other teenagers nodded, watching him curiously. It had been bothering them too, this strange, powerful man who appeared out of nowhere.

Protheus stepped closer, his white hair glinting under the floating lights.

"I understand all languages," he said simply. "I use magic to understand the language you speak."

"Magic… can do that?" asked Joshua, eyes wide.

"Yes," Protheus said.

"I hear the meaning of your words, not just the sound."

"So even if we spoke French or Korean?" Sofia said half-jokingly.

"You would still be understood," Protheus said with a soft nod. Even though he doesn't know the origin of the languages they have mentioned.

The teenagers laughed — awkward, surprised, but real.

Clarisse Padilla grinned.

"Way better than those old apps."

Protheus gave a rare, gentle smile.

"Language is not a barrier between those with good hearts."

His voice was calm, but it carried weight — a quiet, steady truth that wrapped around their tired souls.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

They simply looked at him — at the man who had saved them, sheltered them, asked nothing in return.

They had seen too much evil.

They had learned to distrust smiles and promises. But in this place, under these lights, in this Citadel…

They believed. And for the first time in a long time, they allowed themselves to feel it.

Hope.