Behind The Masks

Another week passed by. Zayden and Darian had eventually found their place among the cadets.

The air was thick with conversation and the scent of military rations. Cadets lounged around metal tables, laughing, sparring with words, some boasting about training scores.

At a crowded table, Zayden and Darian sat with a few cadets, blending in. The conversation drifted to legends.

CADET 1 (grinning):"You know what's real scary? The Blackthorn Bastions! Heard their chamber's still hidden somewhere in this very Citadel."

CADET 2 (wide-eyed):"No one's seen it in years. No one even knows where it is. But they say it only opens for the chosen ones..."

Ivan/Darian (cheerfully curious):"Blackthorn Bastions? Who are they, some kind of elite squad?"

(The whole table suddenly went quiet. Some cadets exchanged glances.)

CADET 3 (leans in, hushed tone):"Not some kind. The deadliest unit ever created by Ashreign. Only the cadets from Batch-23 got into it. That's it. No one else before. No one after."

CADET 1 (with a thrill in his voice):"They were ghosts in the battlefield. Shadows with swords. They moved like smoke, killed without mercy, and vanished before anyone knew they were there."

CADET 4 (nodding):"I heard they were trained with techniques banned by the Citadel itself. Stuff that breaks the mind if you're not strong enough."

CADET 2:"Every cadet here has dreamed of getting into that unit. It's the highest honor in the whole Virellan. But it was dissolved... or so they say."

Ivan/Darian (amazed):"Dissolved? Why? If they were that good."

CADET 3 (grimly):"Some say they disappeared. Others think the Citadel was too afraid of what they became."

CADET 1 (whispers):"Rumor has it... even the head of Ashreign bowed to them. Including our fierce Captain. The Bastions weren't just cadets—they were weapons."

(Darian let out a low whistle, eyes wide, glancing at Zayden who remained utterly still, sipping from his cup.)

Ivan/Darian (smiling):"Well, now I feel kinda small."

CADET 4 (laughs nervously):"Trust me, none of us would ever make it into Blackthorn. You'd have to be part god, part machine."

CADET 2 (shrugs):"I mean... unless they ever come back."

(The table grew quiet again. Zayden set his cup down silently. Dairan glanced sideways at him, his smile fading into something softer.)

Ivan/Darian (gently, only to Zayden):"Part god, huh? Sounds familiar."

(Zayden didn't answer. His fingers tapped the table once before going still again. His eyes stared blankly into the distance—at something long gone... or perhaps returning soon.)

Sylvenia-

Mackiah ran to meet someone he once trusted — Professor Lysander, a mentor from the academy who now worked as a retired intel consultant.

"I need to know about Virellan. About The Dome."

Lysander stared at him with a gravity Mackiah wasn't prepared for.

"You've stepped into something deep," he said. "And once you start digging… there's no coming back."

Mackiah replied without hesitation."I don't care. I need to find him. Whatever it takes."

Ashreign-Training Grounds

Back at the Citadel, just as the next round of training began, a siren blared across the campus — shrill and cutting through the air like a knife.

"Breached perimeter! All cadets to shelters! Officers, secure Zones C through F!"

The trainees panicked. Even the most confident ones scrambled. But not Zayden. Not Darian.

They didn't move.

Their eyes met, calm and deadly — instincts returning.

A sudden blast ripped through the distant wall of the outer perimeter. Smoke erupted. Sirens screeched.The sky, moments ago calm and grey, cracked with the thrum of unfamiliar airships breaking stealth.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Ashreign's alarm system shattered the silence like a knife through a curtain.

A voice crackled through the comms:

"Unidentified enemy breach. South Quadrant. Code Crimson."

Code Crimson.

Not a drill.

Not a test.

A real attack.

Cadets scattered in chaos. Some ran for the barracks. Others froze. Explosions thundered from the south wing—one of the sealed-off sectors where only high-clearance personnel were allowed. A shadow moved through the smoke — armored figures, faces hidden behind pitch-black visors, wielding tech and weapons not from this world.

Zayden's eyes narrowed.That weaponry… it wasn't just advanced — it was Virellan-forged.

Darian's bright smile vanished.

Chaos broke loose.The southern barracks went up in flames, a fireball consuming cadet tents like paper. Ash and shrapnel rained over the central training yard. Cadets, caught mid-run, scattered in all directions, panicking. Shouts for formation were swallowed in the blast as the weapons storage blew apart, metal chunks slicing the morning air.

"T-Take cover! Everyone to the east shelter—"

Boom. Another explosion.

Sergeant Calvin, his uniform scorched at the edges, activated the retinal scanner and pulled open the heavy gates to Ashreign's secret armory. 

"No time for protocol! Get armed, NOW!!!

Suddenly — a deafening barrage of gunfire lit up the entire southern side of the citadel. Dozens fell. Some injured. Some worse. The sound of bullets felt endless. The air reeked of smoke and steel. The network system crashed — all signals jammed.

"No channels...!" Calvin barked. "I can't reach central command! I can't even ping the damn tower!"

Through the dust and shadows emerged men in sleek, blackened military gear — cold, precise, inhuman. Missionaries? No... something more organized. Strategic.

Darian, watching from a broken column, muttered,

"It has to be Joker... it's his style."

Zayden, eyes razor-sharp, whispered back,

"No. It's not him. Joker thrives in shadows, not storms. This... this is military precision. Look—no insignias, no signals. These aren't Joker's men."

He kneeled beside a fallen agent. Ripped off a tag—nothing. No ID, just a cryptic insignia.

Zayden (firm):"This isn't Joker. Someone else is making a move."

Darian (gritting his teeth):"Then we need to act. Now."

In the wreckage of a fallen recon drone, Zayden picked up a shard — a chipped insignia etched in deep Virellan glyphs, but altered. Corrupted. Militarized.

"Whoever this is... they're using old Virellan tactics — but they're not loyal to Joker."

Cadets were scrambling everywhere—some half-armored, others bleeding or disoriented. Dust and firelight painted the once-regal walls in orange-red chaos.

Zayden (Kyrell) and Darian (Ivan) stood in the shadows near the far end of the corridor, away from the main chaos. A trail of smoke rolled past them as cadets ran aimlessly.

Darian (voice low, sharp):"They're disorganized. Scattering like rats in fire."

Zayden (calmly):"They weren't trained for war. They were trained to perform."

(Darian breathed deeply. Reached into the lining of his training vest, pulling out a small black cloth—his mask.)

Darian: "We bury Kyrell and Ivan here."

(Zayden nodded, quietly pulling out his own sleek, obsidian mask. With practiced precision, they slipped them over their faces. Their eyes turned sharp—soulless warriors reawakening.)

Zayden: "Time to become what they've always feared."

(With sudden speed, they vanished into the smoke. Their boots made no sound. Their movements were swift, calculated, lethal.)

[INT. WESTERN HALL – CONTINUOUS]

A group of younger cadets was pinned behind a crumbling wall, terrified, a fire creeping toward them.

CADET (sobbing):"We're gonna die—there's no way out!"

Suddenly—two shadows dropped from the ceiling above them.

Darian(masked):"Get up. Now."

CADET (startled):"Who—?"

Zayden (mask muffling his voice):"There's a corridor behind the storage crates. Push them aside. Follow the red symbols. Don't stop."

(The cadets hesitated, trembling. Darian gripped one by the collar.)

Darian (coldly):

"Would you rather burn here?"

(The cadets nodded a no and scrambled, moving the crates. Behind them was a narrow stone passage—completely hidden, marked by faint ancient runes.) 

[INT. LOWER PASSAGEWAY – MINUTES LATER]

Cadets sprinted through the newly revealed path, led by the two masked figures. They ducked under pipes, descend ancient staircases lit by flickering sconces, some in awe.

CADET (panting):"How do you know all these exists?"

(Neither Darian nor Zayden replied. Their focus was surgical. Every hallway, every twist—they remembered it all.)

[INT. HIDDEN STONE CORRIDORS – DIMLY LIT]

The faint glow of wall-embedded emergency lights flickered. Cadets were gathered, wounded but safe, weapons clutched tightly. Murmurs rippled through the group. The fear was still there—but now, so was hope.

Suddenly—BOOM! A nearby steel door swung open with a thud.

Footsteps. Sharp. Measured. Heavy.

The cadets froze.

CADET 1 (whispering, terrified):"He's here..."

CADET 2: "Captain Randall..."

Into the corridor walked Captain Noah Randall, cold-eyed and imposing, donned in the full black uniform of high command. A scar sliced down one brow—his very presence silenced breath. He's known to only show up when it's either judgment day… or the end of the line.

Behind him rushed Sergeant Calvin, breathless and flushed.

Calvin (whispering to Randall):"They're the ones. The two masked cadets. The ones who led them through these… damn corridors."

Randall's piercing gaze locked onto Zayden and Darian, still masked, standing calmly like twin shadows among smoke and dust.

Randall (voice firm):"How did you know about these corridors?"

A suffocating silence. Cadets shifted nervously. A few glanced at Zayden and Darian in awe and dread.

Before Zayden could reply, Darian stepped forward slightly—just one foot, but it commanded the entire corridor.

Darian (coolly, voice muffled by the mask):"You want answers... or an end to this assault?"

The weight of his tone froze Randall.

Darian's posture was effortless. But something ancient and violent glimmered behind his masked eyes.

Randall (low, warning):"This citadel is under my command. You will answer when spoken to."

Zayden (quiet but lethal):"Then command us… now. Or move aside."

Randall's fists clenched. His eyes narrowed—but there's doubt in them now. He stared at them longer. That stance.

That rhythm of speech.

That absolute control.

Calvin (confused):"These… they're just trainees. But... how did they even bypass the armory seals?"

A cadet near the back of the crowd murmured.

CADET (to others):"I saw him open it. With his hand. No password… no code."

The cadets glanced at one another in disbelief. Hushed tension thickened.

Randall (gritting teeth):"The network is jammed. We're blind and cut off from the upper council. If you truly know what you're doing... prove it."

Zayden (stepping forward, calm as dusk):"There's one place the jammers can't reach. One place the enemy can't touch."

His voice dropped. A low hum of reverence.

Zayden: "The Bastions Chamber."

The name hit like a thunderclap.

CADET 1 (gasping):"No way… that's real?!"

CADET 2 :"I thought it was a myth—"

Calvin (staring, stunned):"How do you know about that chamber…?"

Randall (a beat of silence, then quietly):"…How indeed?"

But before anything more could be said—another explosion shook the far wall. Screams echoed down the halls.

Darian (to Randall):"You can keep asking questions… or you can follow us and survive."

Randall hesitated. Then—nodded once.

Randall (gruffly):"Lead the way."

Zayden and Darian moved instantly, weaving through the corridors with military precision, their bodies molded by instinct. The cadets followed like soldiers to a war-drum.

[INT. LOWER CITADEL – FORGOTTEN PASSAGEWAY]

Stone walls shuddered with the distant echoes of explosives. Dust rained from the ceiling as Zayden and Darian led Captain Randall and Sergeant Calvin, down a spiraling, torch-lit staircase hidden behind a false wall.

Randall (half to himself):"I sealed off this passage years ago… How the hell—"

Darian (without turning):"Because you didn't seal it from us."

Calvin glared at Darian, but said nothing. The air grew colder. A tension ancient and sacred hummed through the air.

Finally, they reached a metallic vault door marked by an ancient insignia—a blackthorn entwined around a burning sword. The symbol of the Blackthorn Bastions.

Calvin (awed):"It's real…"

Zayden stepped forward, removing his glove. The scanner beside the door flickered.

Zayden (quietly):"Recognition scan: Bastion Code Zero-Seven."

A pulse of red light scanned his eyes.

ACCESS GRANTED. The steel doors grinded open with a hiss.

[INT. BASTIONS CHAMBER – DARK, TECHNOLOGICAL, SACRED]

The chamber was vast, circular, illuminated by soft blue lights and relics embedded into the walls. High-tech terminals stood beside ancient scrolls. A vault of legacy and power.

Randall (staggered):"This place was built to be undetectable… even to the Virellan Council."

Zayden: "It still is. And now, it's awake."

Zayden headed to the control terminal, fingers flying across an ancient command interface. Holograms lit up. Defensive systems reactivated.

A wall-mounted map showed enemy units breaching the citadel borders.

Zayden: "They've rigged the western flank. We need to force a redirect."

Randall: "We don't have enough men."

Zayden locked eyes with Darian.

Zayden (calmly):"You won't need men. You'll have him."

The Frontlines – Outside the Citadel

[EXT. TRAINING GROUNDS – SMOKE AND FLAME]

The battlefield was chaos. Missionary-looking agents in sleek dark armor pressed the attack. The cadets—valiant, but outgunned—fell back. Screams echoed. Blood stained the walls.

Suddenly—a silence. A presence. A force.

Darian walked calmly through the smoke, eyes burning. In his hand: a sleek, black case with the Bastions insignia.

CADET (watching him walk past):"What is he doing?! He's going to get himself killed—"

Darian opened the case.

Inside: a weapon no cadet had ever seen. Not a blade, not a gun—but something in between. Forged from blackened metal with blue runes glowing faintly down its length.

Darian:

"Ah! I've missed you my baby!"

He gripped the handle. The weapon came alive, humming with dark, violent energy.

ENEMY COMMANDER (shouting): "OPEN FIRE!"

Gunfire erupted—

Darian disappeared into blur.

SLASH! CRACK! BOOM! In one motion, he sliced through armored vehicles, demolished troops, dodged gunfire like wind slipping through cracks. He didn't stop. He didn't flinch.

The cadets stared in awe—the ghost of Ashreign, the shadow that was never supposed to exist—was real.

CADET (whispers):"He's… not human."

Citadel Roof – Zayden Activated Defense Systems

[INT. BASTIONS CHAMBER – SIMULTANEOUSLY]

Zayden finished the code. A final switch was flipped.

From deep within the citadel, ancient hidden cannons raised from beneath the ground and locked onto enemy vehicles.

Zayden: "You've slept enough, Ashreign. Wake up now."

He smirked.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The cannons unleashed a hellstorm, obliterating the enemy's armored trucks, cutting off their supplies.

Just as the last wave closed in, Darian caught a knife in the back. He staggered, fell to his knees.

"Ugh! I hate getting scars on my dashing body."

"Darian!" Zayden shouted from afar.

For the first time in years, he drew his blade.

Darian (smirking, blood on his lip):"Took you long enough."

Zayden (low, cold): "You looked like you needed me."

Zayden stepped forward, eyes burning. He didn't dodge. Didn't hesitate.

A dozen enemies charged him.

The enemy rushed. He moved once. They all fell.

And in the span of four heartbeats, none remained.

Not a scratch on him.

Darian (smirking from the ground):"Now that's the Zay I know…"

The dust cleared. Silence returned.

The cadets watching from the sidelines lost their breath.

The attacking missionaries fell to the ground. Putting an end to the ambush.

CADET (softly):"...D-Did I-I just witness a demon?"

Then came the roar — cadets screaming in disbelief, in awe, in victory.

Captain Randall stepped forward.

"All cadets — fall in!"

Zayden and Darian stood tall, faces hidden still.

"I'm only going to ask once," Randall said. "Who are you?"

A pause.

Then they pulled off their masks.

Gasps. Mouths opened. Eyes widened.

Cadets exclaimed, "I-It's Kyrell… and Ivan?!"

Captain Randall — the unshakable commander — bowed.

Saluted. Silently. With reverence.

Cadet:

"What—why's the captain bowing?"

Darian (smirking):"It's been a while, hasn't it, Noah?"

Another gasp. Randall straightened with visible awe.

Another cadet whispered: "D-Did he just call the Captain by his first name?"

Calvin stumbled back. "Captain… why…?"

Randall turned to the entire courtyard, voice steady.

"They are the Blackthorn Bastions. Legends… who should've never returned."

Silence. Then murmurs.

Eyes widened. Whispers echoed: "The Blackthorn Bastions..."

And the sun, long hidden behind the smoke, finally broke through the clouds.

Smoke still swirled across the Citadel. The battlefield was scattered with rubble, shell casings, and the stunned breath of hundreds of cadets. Silence rippled across the training grounds like a second explosion—not of war, but revelation.

Captain Randall stood before the gathering cadets, his posture rigid, but his expression... shaken. He glanced once at Zayden and Darian—uniforms torn, bloodied, yet they stood tall. Calm.

Randall (cold and measured): "You've all trained under the name of Ashreign… dreamt of becoming elite, of touching the legendary title passed down in whispers—"

He looked out at them, voice cutting through their exhaustion.

Randall:

"The Blackthorn Bastions. Batch-23."

"A batch that defied protocol. Survived a war they were never meant to return from. A batch erased from records... not because they failed.

But because they became something too powerful to control."

A gasp. Several cadets exchanged horrified glances.

Calvin (stammering): "Wait—are you saying… that they…"

Randall: "Yes. The ones who saved our lives today. The ones who knew of the hidden corridors, the Bastions Chamber...They are not ordinary cadets. They are survivors of the legendary Batch-23."

"In the eyes of the underworld, even mentioning Batch-23… is forbidden. Their names—just whispers of them—were used to silence rebellions. Even the syndicate leaders knew better than to cross them. The leaders of all the clans feared them. They called them cursed relics of war—too brutal, too loyal, too broken to be controlled."

Randall (grimly): "They ended wars that never made it to the public eye. They erased threats before they had names. They weren't cadets. They were ghosts wrapped in flesh. Their chamber isn't just hidden because it's sacred…It's hidden because no one was supposed to survive it. But they did." 

The air shifted. Some cadets instinctively took a step back.

Sergeant Calvin, panting, struggling to steady himself, walked forward. His eyes flickered between Zayden and Darian—faces he recognized but dared not believe were real.

Calvin (barely a whisper): "It… it can't be…"

Zayden turned slightly, meeting Calvin's gaze head-on. No fear. No apology. Only silent challenge.

The sergeant's breath caught in his throat. He stepped back instinctively.

A pause.

Calvin's voice trembled as if uttering a curse.

Calvin: "Zayden… Drevarin."

A ripple of gasps broke through the group of cadets.

He swallowed hard.

Calvin (barely audible): "And… Darian Drestmore."

The names dropped like thunder.

Zayden (coldly):

"So...our names are worth remembering, aren't they Calvin?"

Calvin flinched as a flashback of him questioning the same as mockery during the training struck his head.

The temperature felt like it plummeted. Several cadets stepped away, wide-eyed.

Randall (with solemnity): "These two… are the only reason Ashreign still stands.They are the storm that war fears, the blades that never rusted, and the ghosts who wore scars instead of medals."

The entire citadel watched —deeply, without hesitation.

The cadets were left stunned. Calvin saluted, hesitantly-still in awe. One by one, every cadet knelt or bowed, not out of protocol—but instinct.

Darian raised a brow, amused.

Darian (to Zayden): "Didn't know we still had fans."

Zayden just smirked, a quiet coldness in his eyes as he murmured to the air, loud enough to chill the blood of those around.

He then took one slow step forward.

Zayden: "Dead men wear no masks. But ghosts… we never needed faces."

Blackthorn Bastions had returned.

Zayden: "We weren't hiding. We were resting. But the world just can't seem to stay quiet without us."

The embers still glowed behind him. The battlefield now felt more like a graveyard of illusions.

Zayden (calmly): "Remember this moment."

"You'll never see the world the same again."

The cadets stared, shaken to the core.

Legends had returned… and this time, they wore no badges. Just scars and masks, and a purpose yet unknown.