"Quick, run!"
"Thank you for saving her…"
"You're worthless!"
"G-Grandpa? Grandma?!"
"N-No… I-I didn't mean to…!"
"I-I-I'M A MONSTER!"
"…I will never hurt anyone again!"
Suddenly, Blake opened his eyes.
His gaze was directed upward, toward a completely unfamiliar white ceiling.
He was lying in a bed, wrapped in pristine white sheets, while warm light filtered through the window on his left, gently caressing his face.
"Blake, you're finally awake! We weren't sure it would happen, but we decided to try our luck and come anyway. Tell me, how do you feel?" asked a familiar voice.
The tall, slender boy didn't answer right away.
He slowly turned his head to the right and saw them: a masked boy sitting beside his bed, and a red-haired woman standing behind him.
Blake's eyes moved slowly from one to the other, as if his mind was struggling to connect those faces to names.
"I-Isaac…?" the boy murmured, slowly pushing himself up onto his elbows. "W-Where… Where am I?"
"At the hospital in Raerno," Mirac replied with measured calm. "You've been unconscious for nearly a full day."
"U-Unconscious?" Blake repeated, confused.
Mirac raised an eyebrow slightly. "Don't you remember what happened?"
Blake lowered his gaze to his own hands. "I only remember… that we were on a mission at the Carameo Mine… That's all."
Mirac remained silent for a few seconds, hands resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on Blake's face.
'His subconscious must have repressed those memories to protect him from the trauma…' Mirac reflected, letting the thought settle in his mind. "I see…"
At first, the masked boy hesitated to tell him what had happened, fearing his words might awaken something Blake wasn't yet ready to face.
But faced with his friend's pleading look, Mirac realized he couldn't avoid the request.
He found himself cornered, forced to speak.
And so, he began to recount everything, using that low, measured voice he employed when he wanted to be precise without being cold.
He started from the moment Blake had lost touch with reality—that is, from Zoltan's sudden death—and continued until the end, without skipping anything but without dwelling too long on the worst details.
The battle against the Rogthars, the discovery of the metamorphosis that had transformed the miners, the Carameo Mine now turned into a den for an unknown number of Rogthars…
Everything!
He left nothing out, except for one small detail…
Blake listened in silence, without interrupting even once, his eyes fixed on the sheet.
When Mirac finished, a long, heavy silence fell over the room.
Blake was the first to break it:
"Did all of that really happen while I was unconscious?! T-That's terrible!" he murmured, his voice barely audible. Then, lowering his gaze, he added softly: "I'm so sorry, guys…"
Mirac frowned beneath the mask. "For what?"
"For being a burden!" Blake didn't raise his eyes from the sheet. "Right when the fight was about to start, while you were all trying to understand what was happening and get into formation, I just stood there frozen like a scarecrow. Stunned at the moment you needed me most. And as a result, you had to waste precious time dragging me out of danger!"
He paused, clenching the sheet between his fingers.
"We were lucky this time, but if something had happened to you because of me, I would never have forgiven myself!"
Mirac didn't reply immediately.
He let those words settle, without rushing to fill the silence that followed.
"You shouldn't say that," he finally replied, his tone firm but not cold. "I simply did what needed to be done. I certainly couldn't leave a defenseless comrade exposed during a battle."
Blake didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on his own knuckles, his fingers digging into the blankets.
It was then that Carmen, who had remained off to the side until that moment, approached the bed and placed a hand on Blake's shoulder. A brief, almost imperceptible gesture, but unmistakable in its meaning.
"What happened to you wasn't something you chose," Carmen said. "Sometimes the body reacts before the mind can process a traumatic event. So, in the face of Zoltan's sudden death, your reaction was completely normal. Especially if you're not used to the cruelties of the battlefield. Anyone else in your place would have reacted the same way."
Blake looked up, surprised.
Even Mirac was taken aback: he hadn't expected Carmen to get so involved in the young boy's emotional state.
'She stepped forward to comfort him? That means she's grown fond of him…' he thought, observing her with new eyes.
After the red-haired woman's words, Blake stared into the void for a few moments as frustration twisted in his gut once again.
'Damn it! I'm always the one being helped by others! Why? Why am I so weak?'
A shadow of bitterness twisted his features.
But then, something happened.
Suddenly, the chaos churning in his mind seemed to recede.
The trembling in his hands didn't disappear completely, but the muscles in his face, previously tense, slowly gave way to a painful, inevitable awareness.
'No, I know exactly why… It's all my fault! All because of that day…'
The truth resurfaced from the deepest recesses of his mind and, overwhelmed by that weight, the tall, slender boy gave a slight nod, without voicing his thoughts.
At that almost imperceptible nod, Carmen withdrew her hand and took a step back, repositioning herself behind Mirac without adding anything else.
'He seems to be doing a bit better. But for now, it's best he doesn't know about that matter…' Mirac thought, a shadow of concern flickering briefly behind his mask.
Afterward, he cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence in the room.
"I imagine you'd like some time to yourself, Blake. So, we'll head out now," the masked boy explained, straightening his shoulders as if to shake off the heaviness of the last few minutes. "We have a long meeting waiting for us at the Association Headquarters."
Blake turned sharply toward him, confused.
"A meeting?" His lips remained slightly parted for a second until he managed to piece it together. "Wait a moment! Are you saying that…"
"Yes. In the end, we accepted President Jun's invitation," Mirac confirmed with a resolute nod. "We will participate in the Raid on the Rogthar Dungeon."
Blake's astonishment was immediate. "Are you sure? I mean, that Raid is definitely going to be an absolute hell!"
"Yeah, it's very likely. But after what we discovered at Carameo, we can't just turn our backs and pretend nothing happened," the masked boy replied. "Whoever is responsible for the metamorphosis of those innocents is going to pay dearly!"
The gravity in Mirac's voice and the composure with which Carmen kept her arms crossed suggested that both had already accepted the weight of this mission as an inevitable duty.
"Heh! Truly admirable…" Blake murmured almost to himself, struck by that fierce determination. 'I don't even come close by comparison…'
It was then that the tall, slender boy looked the duo up and down, only now noticing the unusual care in their appearance. "So that's why you're dressed so elegantly?"
Both were wearing a long black coat with an impeccable cut that gave them an almost solemn air. Beneath the overcoat, an elegant black suit stood out, paired with a pristine white shirt whose collar was neatly fastened with a black tie.
Despite their refined appearance, they had not abandoned their weapons.
From the slit in Mirac's coat, the hilt of the same sword he had bought at the "Dragon's Jaw" workshop peeked out, while at Carmen's side—instead of her two old daggers—a new blade now hung on her left, elegantly sheathed in a dark leather scabbard that blended perfectly with the rest of her outfit.
They looked like they had stepped out of another reality compared to their usual travel clothes stained with dust and mud.
"All the Captains and Vice-Captains of the kingdom's most influential Guilds will be present at today's meeting," Mirac replied, carefully adjusting his tie. "We certainly couldn't show up in our old clothes… They wouldn't have been appropriate for the occasion."
He offered a half smile, almost as if apologizing for that unusual refinement.
'Or maybe the old habits from life in a castle are hard to shake…' That ironic thought struck Mirac and Carmen's minds in perfect synchrony. They exchanged a fleeting glance, almost to validate that justification with each other. 'Well, considering the rewards we received for the Carameo mission, even after paying the tailor for these clothes we still have a nice sum left. Just one more job, and we won't have to worry about the journey ahead anymore…'
Suddenly embarrassed by that bitter truth, Mirac cleared his throat with a dry cough to change the subject.
"In any case," the masked boy continued, "the meeting is going to run long and we'll finish very late. In the meantime, you stay here and rest. On our way out, we'll tell a doctor to come check on you one last time, but there shouldn't be any complications, so I imagine you'll be discharged today. If so, we'll see you later at your place."
Mirac paused briefly, his tone becoming slightly more professional.
"Before we leave, however, you need to fill out your part of the mission report. Even if you don't remember much of what happened, you can't skip this task. But I imagine you're more familiar with these formalities than anyone else. Also, since you're hospitalized, I'll deliver it on your behalf."
With that, he handed him a folder he had kept resting on his knees until that moment, then took a pen from the inner pocket of his long black coat.
Blake took the folder and the pen, staring at the hard cover of the document. The front bore the magnificent seal of the Intercontinental Association Against Threats.
Without further delay, he rested the folder on his legs, covered by the sheet, and began to write.
The rustle of the pen on paper was the only sound filling the room, interrupted only by Blake's steady breathing and the soft ticking of a wall clock.
Mirac and Carmen waited without showing impatience, giving him all the time he needed to put into writing what little he remembered.
After a few minutes, Blake extended his arm, returning the documents. "Here."
Mirac took the report, quickly checking that the signatures were in place. Then he closed the folder with a sharp snap and handed it to Carmen, who tucked it under her arm.
"Good. Now focus only on recovering," said the masked boy, standing up and adjusting his coat. "See you this evening."
"Alright. See you later then…" Blake murmured, watching them head toward the door.
They crossed the threshold, and the rustle of their elegant clothes faded down the corridor, leaving Blake alone with the silence of the room and the weight of his own thoughts.
* * *
The journey to the heart of Raerno was swift.
Mirac and Carmen walked side by side, their elegant figures standing out among the afternoon crowd, but their faces remained serious, almost grim.
The irony about the money spent on tailoring had evaporated the moment the imposing profile of the Headquarters appeared on the horizon.
Once they reached the white stone building, they passed the checkpoints with the cold efficiency of those who belonged to that world, heading toward the wing reserved for high-ranking officials, where the bustle of the city was replaced by the solemn echo of their footsteps on the marble.
Waiting for them at the foot of the monumental staircase was Lady Rose. The woman, impeccable as always, didn't bat an eye at their change in appearance, limiting herself to a nod that betrayed a certain urgency.
"You're right on time," she began, her voice calm but firm. "The Council is already assembled."
"We have Blake's report on the Carameo mission," Mirac replied, as Carmen handed her the folder with the pages still fresh with ink. "It's all in there."
Lady Rose took the document, quickly scanned it and then held it to her chest. "Good, I'll add it to the others'. Now follow me, let's not keep them waiting any longer."
Without wasting words, she led them to the second floor, walking down corridors adorned with the banners of historic Guilds, until she stopped in front of a majestic dark oak door inlaid with the symbol of the Association.
Two soldiers in ceremonial armor opened the doors without a word being spoken.
Mirac took a deep breath beneath his mask, while Carmen adjusted her jacket one last time. They both knew this meeting would change the balance of Raerno.
Without hesitation, they crossed the threshold.
The Meeting Hall was immersed in a dim light broken only by the soft glow of a large chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. The windows had been carefully covered with heavy curtains: a necessary precaution to prevent anyone from spying on the diplomatic clash from the building opposite.
Inside the hall, the figures of the Captains and Vice-Captains of the most influential Guilds and the leaders of the Association were already waiting, seated along an imposing rectangular table.
As soon as Mirac and Carmen crossed the threshold, a dozen gazes heavy with almost unbearable tension turned toward them.
It was then that Mirac met a familiar gaze among the rows on the left, nearly taken aback.
'Huh? What is he doing here?' he wondered, involuntarily quickening his pace.
Access to this meeting was strictly limited to the leaders of the summoned Guilds, with the sole exception granted to Mirac and Carmen due to their crucial role at Carameo and their first contact with the Rogthars.
For this reason, neither of them had expected to find Alvern, the team leader of the "Carameo" mission, already seated among the high-ranking officials.
The man was sitting with his back straight and his gaze fixed on the door, as though he had been waiting for them. The thick charcoal beard and the dangerous gleam in his blue eyes made him unmistakable even in a room full of veterans.
Beside him sat a man who must have been at least twenty years his senior, with short-cropped white hair and a square jaw carved by deep scars. He wore black plate armor, battered but solid, with massive pauldrons and greaves reinforced by metal buckles.
Yet even beneath that iron shell, it was impossible not to notice the imposing frame concealed within—supported by a bull-like neck, broad shoulders, and powerful arms that left no doubt as to his strength.
Behind his chair, leaning upside down with its handle pointing upward, stood an enormous hammer—a mass of dark iron that seemed out of place in that hall of marble and oak.
In front of each pair of delegates, arranged on the table with surgical precision, were water bottles, sheets of paper and pens for taking notes, and golden nameplates bearing the names of those present and their respective Guilds.
And in front of Alvern and the man beside him, the nameplates read:
[ Alvern Forh – Vice-Captain of the "Supreme Hammer" Guild ]
[ Taurus Gonzales – Captain of the "Supreme Hammer" Guild ]
'Alvern Forh is the Vice-Captain of a Guild? I had no idea…' Mirac thought to himself, surprised, but he didn't linger on it. With a deep breath, he refocused on the weight of the gazes surrounding him.
The masked boy advanced into the room without showing the slightest hesitation, while the sound of the door closing behind them echoed like a cannon shot, sealing the rest of the world outside.
Greeting them with a cordial smile that managed, for a moment, to lighten the tension in the room was Jun Rassing, the President of the Association.
"Here you are. We've been waiting for you, boys," he began in a calm voice, yet filled with innate authority. From his position at the head of the table, directly opposite the entrance, he invited them closer with a gesture of his hand. "Please, take a seat. I've kept two places free right here, next to me."
Under the watchful eyes of the entire hall, Mirac and Carmen began their advance toward the seats beside the head of the table. Every step on the polished floor seemed to echo with excessive resonance in the unnatural silence of the room.
It was then that their eyes fell on the two golden nameplates waiting for them beside the head of the table:
[ Isaac Belgram – Special Guest ]
[ Ananya Shak – Special Guest ]
Mirac did no more than cast a fleeting glance at his own nameplate, without slowing his pace.
As he advanced, a low murmur began to snake through the veterans seated at the table:
"And who are those two?"
"Special Guests?"
"So they don't belong to any Guild?"
"I've never seen them before…"
"From what I know, they only arrived in the city yesterday… and apparently they defeated the President in the Physical Test of the Admission Exam."
"The President Jun? Seriously?! Are you sure?"
"Well, that would explain why he's showing them all this respect…"
The Captains exchanged puzzled glances, leaning toward one another to whisper words that, though subdued, filled the air with skepticism.
The wildest conjectures bounced from one side of the long table to the other, but Mirac paid them no mind.
His senses, sharpened by tension, were focused on a single, overwhelming perception.
Among all those present, despite the internal fragility caused by the precarious condition of his Original Mana Core, Jun's aura was by far the most immense!
An ancestral, profound pressure that made the other auras in the room seem like mere candles in the wind.
'There's no doubt: he's the strongest one here!' That awareness struck Mirac with the force of a sledgehammer, nearly taking his breath away. 'Heh… What a monster!'
The masked boy and the red-haired woman reached their assigned seats and sat down with studied composure.
President Jun waited for silence to reign once more, observing his guests with a gaze that seemed to see beyond appearances. Then, he placed his gnarled hands on the oak surface of the table and nodded slowly.
"Gentlemen," Jun began, and his voice, though not loud, instantly silenced every remaining murmur. "Thank you for your promptness. What we are about to discuss today does not concern only the outcome of a mission, nor is it limited to the preparations for an ordinary Raid on a dangerous Dungeon. Rather, we are gathered here to confront the shadow of a threat that has the potential to shake the entire kingdom!"
He paused briefly, his eyes gleaming beneath the chandelier's glow.
"Therefore, without further delay, I officially declare the extraordinary session of the Grand Council of the Guilds of Ardorya open!"