Xerxes was a veteran. He fought through many battles and lived through them all. What happened today was different.

The shadow of death that came to protect the powerless boy was unlike anything Xerxes faced. It was uncompromising. There was no telltale or threat, but only a statement — a promise of unavoidable sudden demise for those who dare touch the boy.

Xerxes Enma didn’t know where such power came from, but he wouldn't volunteer to fight it. Nobody would.

Xerxes Enma didn’t know who unleashed it, but it killed his enthusiasm. The mirage of their body being reduced to tomato soups was too effective at killing bloodlust.

They all watched the boy left with his final condemnation, shaming Xerxes and rest as he disappeared into the distance.

“Will he come back?” said Charon.

“Papa,” Shyme Enma glanced at her father for some droplet of wisdom. “What was that?”

“A mistake,” Xerxes’ thought drifted to the boy who would never return. “I am afraid this action will have consequences.” He needed to confirm the worst. “Tell me, did those men in masks have any interest in that boy?”

“Oh,” Shyme said.

His daughter’s expression confirmed Xerxes’ worst fear.

…

Xerxes Enma decided, with a heavy heart, to give Alpine a piece of his mind.

As a member of the Enma Clan, he knew about keeping his mouth shut. The balance of Phantasia power could upturn tomorrow from one wrong word. One wrong insult at a wrong time, and the diplomatic incident would keep him awake for weeks. Any five-year-old with average EQ could tell him centuries of receiving everything one ever wanted won’t do anything to curb those entitlements. It was a world Xerxes navigated since childhood, and it taught him patience.

Last year changed that. The illusion of continuity was about to be dashed by a karmic iceberg.

Xerxes Enma observed the hole where Alpine bred the disaster. He didn’t know much about the boy, but he knew they burned an important bridge.

“You don’t regret this at all, do you?” Xerxes floated the question.

“Why should I?” Alpine was sitting at the table. The brief explosion of her power had blown off the tablecloth, but the furnishing was still miraculously intact.

No one was joining Alpine on the table. The girls — Serenade, Charon, Shyme, Sonovia, huddled on one corner. Meanwhile, Rubric, and Waiter the butler, hang beside the door with concerned expressions.

“Rubric, Waiter,” said Xerxes with a stony face. “Please take the girl on a shopping trip.”

“Papa?” Shyme said. She knew her father would be talking to Alpine about the business — a highly restricted business.

“Shyme, please, papa needs to give Alpine a scolding,” Xerxes said sternly.

With much hesitation, Shyme relented. She, Charon, Sonovia, and Serenade left through the door for a joyless shopping trip. The awkwardness was deafening. Everything seemed like a fever dream. The girls wanted Yuri to pop from the hole in the wall, claiming he was joking, but such delusion didn’t happen. Burgundy Waiter followed them, clamping his personal feelings with the vice of professionalism.

Rubric walked to the exit. He was intent on following them, but hesitated at the doorknob. The huge man turned to the silent atmosphere.

“Do I need to stay?” Rubric asked his friend.

“I will tell you the details after I come to an understanding with Alpine,” Xerxes said.

Rubric nodded and left. The wooden door swung close with a small thud and did nothing to improve the mood of the room.

The Lion-man and the Divine-race looked at each other as the tension built. After knowing for sure no one was eavesdropping, Xerxes pulled out a wooden chair accompanying the table and sat opposite of Alpine.

“I need the boy, Alpine,” Xerxes said. “Thanks to you, I don’t have that anymore. Your outburst has more repercussions than you could have imagined.”

Alpine snorted in disbelief, “Consequence? What could the powerless weakling bring that threatens us.”

Xerxes couldn’t believe this woman's denial, “How about the organization that defeated Orwell?”

Alpine was incredulous, “You actually believe that stupid rumor. It made no sense. There isn’t a chance a barren planet like Earth gave birth to the men who brought Orwell Mehest to his knee and repelled Sameal Wayward — at least not in a year.”

“I know it sound ridiculous,” Xerxes agreed. “But I believe Shyme. Earth’s arrival and the Symphony Advent are too close to be a coincidence.”

Alpine had a goosebump, “You believe,” she hesitated, “that freak — ”

“Yes, I mean that woman who called herself ‘Symphony’,” Xerxes said. “The one who appeared as a wrath on the Divine Realm, and single-handedly annihilated the entire fighting force of the God Realm by her lonesome.”

Symphony Advent. It was a legendary taboo that occurred a year ago before Earth’s merging. A legendary proof the gods weren’t invincible as they thought. In that brief ten minutes rampage, Symphony annihilated several palaces of the Divine-races and caused permanent damage to the spatio-temporal structure of the God Realm.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“The Divine-races tried to fight a mass of energy calling itself Symphony with everything they got,” Xerxes said. “They, you, lost. ”

“Please don’t remind me,” Alpine turned meek at the mere mention of Symphony. Any bravado she had evaporated in the face of the cataclysm that shattered her ego in a wink.

Xerxes mercilessly emphasized her humiliation, “Alpine, Symphony cleaned the entire God Realm in three minutes. The seven minutes later was spent negotiating a new guideline. A guideline which stops the Divine Fist from blatantly exploiting any planet they come across.”

Alpine banged her head on the desk, “What part of ‘don’t remind me’ did you not understand?” The high-ranking officer of the Snow Maiden Sect tried to control the roar of trauma. “You aren’t there, Xerxes. You never see ‘that’,” she gulped, “that thing — Symphony — is a monster. She took on every King of the Gods at once and beat them all without suffering a scratch. I didn't even have time to blink before I went down.”

“Ever wonder why Symphony attacked the God Realm,” Xerxes said.

“Stop! I don’t want to recall that three minutes of my life,” Alpine trembled like a kitten. Her majestic pride evaporated at the mere mention of the Matron of Dawn. “I would rather die than face that again!”

“Alpine,” Xerxes appealed to the traumatized bundle beneath the tough exterior. “Running from Symphony won’t solve any problem. Do you ever wonder about the reason behind her action?”

“She is an eldritch being, Xerxes!” Alpine said through the humiliating memory. “What could she want?”

“That is why I want to talk to this Yuri kid,” Xerxes said. “I believe Symphony aims to protect the Earth. Something about that planet is important to her. Shyme insisting that the knight who defeated Orwell is an Earthling only reinforces that.” Xerxes sighed. “And you just ruin it all.”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Alpine said. “I could have forced the planet’s secret out of that weakling.”

“It isn't that the planet is special, Alpine” Xerxes said, “The Seven Continental Alliance spent days investigating Earth, and found nothing of note. I simply want to know what that boy thinks about the Knights. I must know what those Black Knights are aiming for.”

“Those unregistered S-Rankers?” Alpine said. “What do you want with those rogues?”

Xerxes shrugged, “I want their opinion.”

“On what?” Alpine said.

“The Genolord Project,” Xerxes said without joy.

Alpine blinked, “What?”

“You don't really follow the rumors, do you?” Xerxes said.

“Sorry, not sorry,” Alpine growled. “What is it?”

Xerxes sighed again, “During the Venistalis Incident, Orwell deployed several weapons to be used against those unregistered S-Rankers we now called the Black Knights.” Xerxes shrugged. “Result-wise, it didn’t help Orwell. The Knights defeated him despite those weapons, but that didn’t change the fact they are one of the most advanced and heretical innovations in recent memory.”

Alpine twitched, “You are weaponizing Orwell’s garbage.”

“Wait, until you see it, Alpine,” Xerxes said with concern. “Some of that ‘garbage’ has the potential to make the Divine Fist obsolete. If we can implement those technologies, the number of S-Rankers we have could very well double.”

“And Orwell still lost with those trump cards?” Alpine gaped.

“Yes. It is why I want to understand the Black Knight,” Xerxes said. “The deeds they performed in Venistalis are the stuff of legend. After the Venistalis Incident, most of those weapons were rendered inoperable, but we still salvaged a certain promising specimen.” Xerxes paused before naming the subject. “It is called the Trimegal. A genetically augmented, lab-grown dragon with Reverse Beast’s genetics.” Xerxes reached into his coat, pulled out a canteen, and took a swig to relieve his sudden spike in blood-pressure. “According to the damage to the surrounding area, that thing was above S-Ranker, and El Acerbia confirmed it is just a prototype Orwell threw together in a few days to fight against the Knights.”

Alpine’s mouth hung open. “A prototype?” She repeated in awe. “A shoddily put together prototype is an S-Ranks?”

“Yes,” Xerxes nodded, finishing his drink. “Orwell might lose, but he didn’t go with a whimper. Trimegal could be considered cutting-edge in Reverse Beast’s genetic-splicing. Upon revising the data from its remains, the Grand Empire proposed a joint project with Enma Clan and Isle of Knowledge to reverse-engineer the splicing technology for the new project — Code-name: Genolord. El Acerbia aims to enhance our personnel by using Trimegal as a foundation.”

“You plan to create genetically engineered soldiers spliced with the Reverse Beast!” Alpine yelled. “Are you crazy?”

“Don’t blame me, Alpine,” Xerxes said. “This project is the brainchild of Director El Acerbia and my old-man.” Xerxes composed his words. “I have some misgiving, but I need something concrete to reject this project. Trimegal was heavily damaged from the battle with the Knights. El Acerbia claims he cracked the code behind its creation.” Xerxes slammed his hand on the table. “I doubt the project as much as you do, but we must know the detailed potential hazard of Genolord. Only two groups can list that.” Xerxes raised his index finger. “First is Orwell, its creator, who wants to see us crash and burn.” He raised the middle finger. “The second is the Black Knights, who defeated Trimegal. Earth and that boy are our only lead to track them down, and you blew it.”

Alpine still had doubts, “Come on, Xerxes. How much can they tell us?”

…

Faraway, inside a deep wood a distance from the town, was a campsite. The small clearing with a small camping van. A pot hung over the ember of a campfire. Laid beside it were two logs fashioned into a seat. It was a scene hailed from your family mountain trips.

But the people taking the trip were hardly ordinary.

“That is Venistalis in a nutshell, Yuri,” Rem Breaker, Dream, finished his explanation as the pasta cooked. “Orwell summoned a ridiculously powerful Reverse Beast he could barely control, while his pal did the number on the city’s defense. Sameal Wayward nearly got all of us until I cut a deal with him. Then dear Orwell spliced Reverse Beast’s gene onto himself.” Rem cringed. “We needed to crack safeguard after safeguard to make him vulnerable. One of those safeguards, Trimegal, was such a threat it needed to be taken down by both Ace and Empress. Seriously, that is one clusterfuck I never want to repeat.”

“Splicing Reverse Beast’s genetics?” Yuri helped Rem prepare the ingredients for a spaghetti. “Is that healthy?”

“Power is power,” Rem explained. “Good or evil comes down to choice. However, in this case, you are plugging yourself to the cosmic confluence of malicious negativity. It isn’t something I recommend.”

Yuri came over with neatly weighted salt, pepper, tomato sauce and chopped pork.

“How come Orwell is still sane?” Yuri asked.

“Because he is aware of what he is playing with,” Rem said. “He understood the price and prepared against the Malice itself. His Adamakles are more than an Ability. It is also a lasso to tame a fragment of Malice in that World Enemy’s DNA and reshape it into something stable. That kind of ritual can’t be done on anybody. You need a specialized Ability like Adamakles and incredible strength of character.” Rem made a face as he struggled to cook the pasta. “Or you can select the easier option and settle with a barely leashed grenade like Trimegal.”

Yuri took over the pasta when Rem proved hopeless with cooking. Several minutes later and the dish was ready.

“So, what am I going to do now?” Yuri asked.

“For today, a basic overview,” Rem said. “Then tomorrow, we will begin your training. It will be a lifelong path, Yuri. There is no end to our journey. However, I can promise Alpine will be regretting every word she said when you two met again.