Chapter 13 – An Unforgettable Number

7:00 AM

In the lower floor of the Sixth Order, nothing had changed since the previous night.

The systems were still in standby mode, the wall-mounted lamps cast a dim gray light that revealed little, and the air was cold without movement.

The circular hall containing the virtual abyss was completely quiet. The metal dome in the center was closed, as it always was after every trial.

But above it, at an unregistered height, there was someone.

The systems did not record his entry.

No door had opened.

And the sensors gave no detection signal.

A man — nothing could be seen of him.

The darkness was enough to conceal him completely; no shadow, no reflected light, no visible features.

His feet did not touch the surface, and a faint aura surrounded him, as if gently lifting him from the ground.

It was impossible to know whether he was watching, waiting, or simply thinking.

He did not speak immediately.

But when his voice emerged, it was not loud.

"This place... hasn't changed."

Then he added, in a voice quieter than before, as if speaking to a thought, not a person:

"But what happens next... is not in my hands."

"We have sent the report about the boy, Levan, to the rest of the Orders."

"That was at the request of Daryoval."

"I did not refuse him... because I knew what was on his mind." The next moment, nothing was there. That person's existence had completely vanished.

In the upper floor of the administrative building in the First Order, the morning was still. Inside one of the secure offices, a man sat at his desk, reviewing a folded report.

An aide stood nearby, waiting for orders.

Then the seated man said:

"Send a request for a closed meeting. Include the Second Order… and the Third."

The aide nodded and left without a word.

The man remained in place, fingers resting on the desk's edge.

His eyes did not return to the paper.

He murmured to himself: "This situation... it hasn't happened before.

Are we standing at the edge of what occurred two hundred years ago?"

Meanwhile, in a distant area away from the Orders, lies the city of Armanza in the center of the nation's map, where the major routes intersect.

A bustling commercial city that does not officially belong to any Order, but is connected to all.

Caravans reach it, signals depart from it, and it is said that its higher affairs are managed by an unknown figure behind the scenes, one whom people deal with without formal titles.

In the center of the city, among a network of markets and corridors, rises a building more plain than grand — distinguished only by its size and stillness.

It bears no name.

No visible activity appears on it during the day.

Its facade is clean, with a smooth wall and two windows overlooking the plaza.

Above, in a room far from the noise, a man sat on a low chair.

In front of him was a table, with one paper placed on it.

Three men stood before the table.

They did not move.

The paper was read slowly.

The seated man spoke in a rough voice:

"Are you sure about this information?"

The man in the center replied:

"Yes, sir. One of our elite spies brought it."

The man slightly lifted the paper, glanced at it once more, then placed it back on the table without a comment.

He said quietly:

"Monitor the situation and their movements in the coming days.

This report seems… a bit strange.

Does the king know about this?"

Then he gestured with his hand without adding anything else.

The three men left.

And he remained alone.

 Elsewhere, some decisions had already been made, and doors in high places began slowly moving toward directions not yet announced...

The bell rang at the academy.

7:00 AM

The sound reached Room 12.

At the far side of the room, Romo sat on his bed, breathing slowly.

His hand was holding his side; he stretched out his leg and sighed quietly, saying:

"Today is our first mission as a team. I feel nervous."

Ena was already awake but said nothing.

She sat on the edge of her bed, tightening the last strap of her shoes, then tied her hair up with a single firm band.

As for Levan, he finally moved.

He got up slowly from the mattress, his right hand holding his neck, his face expressionless.

He said in a low voice:

"They told us yesterday... it would be outside the Wall."

Romo smiled, then said:

"Levan, this is our first step toward our dreams."

Levan nodded lightly, with a faint smile, as he wore his gray jacket and said:

"...Yes. Let's give it our best."

Ena didn't stop, still preparing her jacket and opening the strap of her side bag without saying a word.

The three stood up, headed for the door, and left the room without further discussion.

In the corridor, they walked quietly under the dim light, advancing with steady steps toward the stairway corner.

But before reaching it, a group was waiting.

Three youths, the usual formation.

In the middle: Kairon Valma, standing with hands in his pockets, silent, his eyes slowly shifting toward Levan.

To his right: Niska from the Seventh Order — pale face with two scars on his forehead, narrow eyes, and an ever-present smirk.

To his left: Droma from the Ninth Order — a broad-shouldered, expressionless man with very short hair.

Kairon muttered clearly:

"Oh, Team 117… seems the academy has started recycling failures."

Niska laughed and added:

"They distribute us based on capabilities, right? So why send someone without an Inclination… beyond the Wall?"

Droma muttered:

"Isn't this girl from the Fourth Order…? Why is she following two from the bottom? How pathetic."

Ena paused, visible annoyance on her face.

But Levan said quietly:

"We'll do our best."

He looked down, then quickly raised his head toward Kairon.

Ena said coldly:

"Let's focus on the mission. The battle between us hasn't begun yet."

Team 117 then left the corridor without waiting for further insults.

Romo, descending the stairs, said:

"I'm starting to get tired of their behavior."

Ena responded immediately:

"Don't engage with them. In terms of Inclination and combat, they're far better — trained by the academy, with professional instructors."

Then she added:

"Every minute we waste on them… is a minute lost from our survival."

Romo said in a low voice, eyes forward:

"...Agreed."

Then they continued walking until they reached the Clock Plaza, the same one used in the previous Inclination test.

Before them, the sixteen teams had already started lining up across precise marked lines, with assistants in dark gray uniforms stationed behind each spot.

As the teams aligned, twelve elite fighters emerged from the academy's western corridor — each wearing a dark red uniform.

Each stood in front of the team they would supervise until the end of the academic program.

The one assigned to Team 117 was the last to arrive.

His name: Neral, from the Fifth Order.

A man of average height, with yellowish skin, a faint scar under his right eye, and a clean, undecorated uniform.

His posture was balanced, his gaze steady, his face unreadable.

He pulled a folded paper from his pocket, handed it to Romo without comment, and said clearly:

"Open it… when instructed."

Less than two minutes later, Nolvar Sin stepped into the plaza, accompanied by Arval.

They were standing on the wooden platform in the middle, staring at the distributed teams.

Then Nolvar said in a calm but clear voice:

"The fourth phase begins now.

Each team will head to a location beyond the Wall.

I won't ask you to fight.

The mission is simple: each team will go to an abandoned city. In each city is a single Aether Artifact, a remnant from the world before the Fall.

Your mission: retrieve the artifact. That's all."

He continued:

"The cities have been classified as Threat Level F or lower.

No direct combat is expected.

But danger… is always possible."

He gestured toward the teams:

"Now… open your envelopes."

Romo opened the paper quickly.

Ena looked at it and said:

"Station C-7."

The announcement wasn't loud, but the supervisor standing at the back — responsible for Team 12 — glanced at them in surprise, then looked forward again.

Nolvar ended his speech:

"Further instructions will come from your assigned officer during your journey outside."

Then he stepped off the platform.

As he and Arval were leaving, and before they reached the gate, Arval spoke quietly:

"Sir… are you sure about sending Team 117 to that place?"

Nolvar didn't turn.

He only said:

"It's not my decision."

Then added in a low voice only Arval could hear:

"Station C-7... was closed eleven years ago, after two full teams vanished without a trace."

"Since then, it's been classified as a restricted site… sealed by special order from my superior, the Commander of the Sixth Order."

"It was never entered into official records. But you know, as I do… it's remained untouched ever since."

"This is the first team sent there again."

End of Chapter 13

The path has been opened...

To a place that was meant to remain sealed.

And with every step,

Something that had been asleep… begins to awaken.