Velos sat stiffly at the edge of his seat, his eyes scanning the room. The war room of the Slayers Division was everything he had imagined and more. Population maps layered the walls, detailing the various regions and zones, each one meticulously marked with areas of concern. Scattered across the tables were documents of historical record, old mission reports, and sketches of monstrous figures looming above annotations. Even the walls held relics—old weapons of slayers past, blades dulled by time but still retaining sharp dents and scratches of violence.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Velos couldn’t shake the thrill building inside him. He was nervous, of course, but who wouldn’t be? He sat across from Field Commander Baraol—one of the few to have earned the responsibility at just three-marks.

The door creaked open, pulling him from his thoughts. Sterling sauntered in, whistling carelessly as if he were strolling into a tavern. Sterling’s whistle came to an abrupt stop when he noticed the complete silence that the loomed over the room.

"Sit down," Baraol's voice cut through the silence, firm and authoritative, motioning toward the chair next to Velos.

Sterling slid into the seat without a word, the carefree look vanishing from his face. He leaned back, his chair balanced precariously on two legs, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes wandered impatiently, fingers drumming an erratic beat on the arm of his chair.

Baraol finally spoke, "You're here today to provide an accurate testimony of what happened during the promotional assignment."

Sterling scoffed. “Testimony? We were just doing our job.”

Velos shot him a warning glance, lowering his voice to avoid the gaze of his two commanding officers. “Sterling, just… don’t.”

Sterling leaned back farther, clearly unbothered, but he fell silent.

Baraol's eyes darted between the two before focusing on Velos. "Start from the beginning. I want a full recount."

Velos swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. He recounted the events, carefully, step by step. "We arrived at the Northern Heartland Plains as instructed. There were two Darau we spotted early on—young ones. We tried to tranquilize them, but both shots missed. That’s when we gave chase, thinking we could still catch them. Instead, we got surrounded by the rest of the pack."

Sterling rolled his eyes, his fingers still tapping impatiently. Velos pressed on.

"We fought the pack, including the alpha Darau. It was intense, but eventually, the alpha started retreating. That’s when—" Velos hesitated, glancing at Sterling. "That’s when Sterling chased it down and killed it."

Baraol remained still. "Are you aware," he said, "that you were both advised against engaging an alpha?"

"Yes, sir," Velos replied quickly, his voice steadying. "Coordinator Melicent briefed us beforehand."

"Then why did you pursue it?" Baraol's gaze fixed on Velos, sharp as the tip of a spear. Velos had no answer. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Sterling shrugged. "Because it was running away, and I wasn’t about to let the thing off easy. After everything it did to us, it deserved to be put down."

Baraol sighed, deeply. He stood up, pacing behind the table before turning to face them. "This isn't about what it 'deserved,' Sterling. Do you know why the Slayers Division exists? Why we do what we do?"

Sterling frowned, clearly uninterested in a lecture, but Baraol pressed on.

"We’re not here to simply kill every monster that crosses our path. This Division was founded to protect humanity, yes, but more than that—it exists to preserve balance." Baraol stopped pacing and turned toward the two slayers. "The Division has a long history of hunters who thought that brute force was the answer. And time and time again, they paid the price. Decades ago, there was a group of slayers who believed wiping out an entire species of predator in the Western Lowlands would make the region safer. Do you know what happened?"

Velos shook his head slowly. Sterling remained silent, his brows furrowing in spite of himself.

"Without those predators," Baraol continued, "the herbivores flourished unchecked. Fields were stripped bare, the soil depleted, and the people who relied on those lands starved. Nature retaliated in ways we never expected. There are creatures out there in this world strong enough to decimate cities—yes.” He turned to face the pair, leaning against his table. “They are smart enough to let us be so long as we don’t overstay our welcome.”

“But some of them,” Commander Baraol grazed the side of his temple, “are smart enough to hold grudges. Do not mistake this as a war. We are all simply trying to survive.”

Silence filled the air. Even Sterling stopped tapping. They hadn't just killed a dangerous predator—they were one step closer to disrupting the ecosystem. Velos wanted to say something, to apologize formally, but no words came.

Baraol let the moment linger, looking between them. "Do you know why we monitor predator-prey populations so closely in regions like the Northern Heartland Plains?"

Sterling opened his mouth but thought better of it. "To control them?" said Velos.

Baraol nodded, "The alpha Darau you killed was at the top of the food chain in that area. Its presence kept the herbivore population in check. Without it, the herbivores will overpopulate, devouring the floral life and draining the natural resources of the region. You were walking the line of balance. This wasn’t a valid target. You’re lucky it was only one alpha and its pack."

Sterling, grumbled under his breath, "So what? You wanted us to just let it go?"

"Yes," Baraol nodded again. "Sometimes letting go is the smarter choice. You were given explicit instructions, and you ignored them. You have to learn to think beyond the immediate danger—think of the larger consequences."

Velos clenched his fists under the table. In the heat of battle he failed to see just how much letting go of the target had been an option. But now, seeing the severity in Baraol’s expression, he realized he could have at least tried to stop Sterling.

"We're not just killers." Baraol finished.

Sterling's face tightened. With a scoff, he shook his head. "We didn’t know any better!"

Baraol didn’t flinch. “Precisely.”

The commander’s tone said no more, but Sterling felt that remark was particularly pointed. The bravado was shaken, replaced with a lingering sense of impotence. Baraol straightened in his chair, as though he'd been through this conversation with many such tactless rookies. “You will not be receiving your promotion, Sterling, until you attend a lecture on the consequences of excessive hunting, among a few other critical topics.”

Baraol paused after mentioning the lecture, turning his gaze toward Shovi in the corner of the room. He didn’t need to say more than her name. She had been quiet up until now, standing in the corner of the room, observing the entire exchange.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

She stepped forward, her posture straight as always, arms flicking through the pages of a leather-bound book. “There are a couple of lectures scheduled within the next few days.” Her voice was aloof, but one could see a smirk forming on her face. “One on the Ecological Balance of Predator-Prey Dynamics and another on Historical Mismanagement of Hunting Quotas—both of which I’m sure Sterling will find relevant to his... situation.”

Sterling wanted to protest, but nothing came out of his mouth.

“If you're lucky,” Shovi continued, “you might even get assigned to a field study. Depends on what’s available.”

Sterling scratched his head in frustration. “Why do I have to bother with the same kind of shit they asked me to sit through when I first became a rookie?” His voice was louder than intended, but he didn’t care.

Baraol’s response was immediate, and his tone stayed matter-of-fact. “Failure to attend any of the scheduled lectures will result in the indefinite suspension of your one-mark status.”

Sterling clenched his fists under the table, visibly holding himself back from saying something that would get him into even more trouble. Baraol, as calm as ever, simply stirred his tea. “Cooperate, Sterling.”

The field commander gave Sterling a moment for the words to sink in, but he pointed at Sterling as he added, “This incident will not be marked on your record. However, any further infractions will be closely monitored. If you make another mistake, you will risk being booted off the Division.”

Velos, who had been quietly observing, reached out and spoke in a softer voice. “It's just one lecture, Sterling. You'll be back to slaying in no time.”

The tension in Sterling's shoulders eased, just a little. He exhaled, staring hard at Velos for a moment before looking away. “Fine.” He muttered under his breath, eyes downcast, his anger subdued.

Baraol nodded. “You are dismissed, Sterling.”

Sterling pushed his chair back with an annoyed grunt, stood up, and headed for the door, not bothering to say another word. Velos moved to follow, but just as he took his first step, a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Not you.” It was Shovi, her voice froze Velos in place. “We want to talk to you.”

Velos felt a cold shudder.

As Sterling left, silence filled the room. Commander Baraol, seated at the head of the table, took the moment to finish his tea. The sound of liquid settling back into the cup was the only noise in the room as Baraol returned the delicate porcelain to its saucer. Shovi leaned against the wall, unmoving and still as Velos returned to his seat. Baraol took one last look at Velos' identification scroll, which he had procured from records before the promotional assignment.

SLAYER IDENTIFICATION SCROLL

Issued by the Covenant’s Slayers Division

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Personal Information

* * Name: Velos Rendhal

* Date of Induction: 20th day of Laor, 1st Year of Emperor Harlos III

* Place of Birth: Menod, North Valfield

* Status: Active

* Current Residence: Communal Barracks Wing 3, South Sector

Rank and Division

* * Current Rank: ☐ (Markless)

* Assigned Unit: N/A

* Years of Service: N/A

* Recorded Infractions: 0 Recorded Infractions

Combat Information

* * Total Missions Completed: 0

* Total High-Threat Monsters Defeated: 0

* Weapon Proficiencies: N/A

* Additional Skills: Basic Sword Training

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Approved by Deputy Commander Shovi Aradne

Property of the Covenant, Slayers Division

Most of it adds up, though there was a concerning lack of detail regarding his 'additional skills' as a supposed healer.

“So, tell me, Velos,” Baraol began, “your medical skills seem to be above average. You carried with you a medical kit that allowed you to perform sutures and stitches beyond the rudimentary training granted to rookies.”

Baraol affixed his gaze to Velos, "Care to tell us where you learned such skills?"

Velos shifted in his seat, trying to remain composed. “I uh—learned a couple things during my time back home,” he stammered.

Baraol’s brow lifted slightly. “And where exactly is home for you?”

Velos hesitated, briefly considering how much to share, before he answered, “...Menod.”

The mention of the town changed Baraol’s expression—the serene commander returned for a brief moment, into the caution of a soldier having fought his fair share of skirmishes. His expression softened after a while, seeing Velos recalling memories he had rather not. “I see.” His tone smoothed. “I offer my condolences. Menod’s tragedy isn’t forgotten.”

Velos' gaze dropped to the table. “Thank you. But it was a long time ago.”

"Who taught you basic surgery?" Baraol inquired.

"My father." Velos sighed.

"Your father?" Baraol leaned forward, "is he a doctor?"

"Physician," Velos corrected. "A surgeon, actually. He was the one who took care of the injured after the incident." Velos' voice trailed off at the end, his gaze dropping to the table. The memory of the incident still lingered even if he had forced himself to stay composed after all these years.

"I see," Baraol's voice quieted.

For a moment, silence filled the room, save for the distant creak of old beams above them. Baraol studied Velos closely in the instant, scanning the boy with any details he could remember. A slayer trained in medicine, hailing from a hometown whose people were besieged upon by a tragedy outside their control. If he were to take a gander, Velos could prove valuable to the division—and Promotional would likely think the same. But the boy hadn't yet earned his marks. Not yet.

“You’ve come back to this occupation, Velos,” Baraol finally said. “And from what I’ve seen, you're closer than you think to receiving a one-mark promotion.”

Velos blinked, clearly taken aback. “I’m closer? I mean… I didn’t expect that after an unorthodox mission result like this.”

Baraol gave a slow nod, leaning back in his chair. “True. But you’ve shown quick thinking, resourcefulness. Those aren’t traits to be dismissed lightly.”

Velos let the words sink in before asking, “So, what’s standing in the way?”

“Sterling has already proven himself as an excellent combatant,” Baraol said. “But you, Velos… you haven’t demonstrated the same level of combat acuity yet. Your education and instincts are sharp, but slaying is more than theory. You need to show us your strength, your ability to think under pressure.”

Velos furrowed his brow, unsure of what to say, but once Shovi opened her little book, Velos knew that he was in for disciplinary action, something that would keep him busy for the coming week.

“That’s why,” Baraol continued, his voice resounding, “you’ll need to participate in combat trials. Prove to me that you’ve earned that promotion.”

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Slayer's Notes

Property of Velos Rendhal

Lectures

As a rookie slayer, you're required to attend lectures. They're like the Division's way of drilling us with all the important stuff we might run into in the field. I’ve sat through more than my fair share of them. It’s funny, though—they really emphasize theory here. You'd think the practical, hands-on stuff would take priority, but they’re insistent that understanding monsters and ecosystems can be just as crucial to survival. Makes sense, but sometimes it feels like all the theory in the world can’t replace real experience.

Most of these lectures focus on ecological knowledge, environmental awareness, and monster biology. You learn about habitats, behaviors, and even migration patterns of creatures we might hunt. There was this one lecture that stuck with me, though. They brought in the preserved corpse of an Aevior, a splitjaw wyvern. It stank something awful, but the dissection was fascinating. Watching them pull apart the anatomy of a creature we usually see only in combat—higher ranked, but nonetheless—was something else. Nobody drifted off in that session, no matter how bad the smell got. Guess there's a little something to be learned from anything you find on the field, alive or dead.