They stepped into the chamber, and Apollo imdiately felt the shift in atmosphere. The air was thick with sword power—refined, restrained, and ancient. It wasn't the wild edge of a battlefield but the tempered calm of one who had stood upon countless of them.
Inside, the room was modest yet filled with power. A sword, sheathed but exuding quiet dominance, rested beside a stack of ancient scrolls.
Behind a simple wooden desk sat a man whose re presence seed to anchor the entire outpost. His hair was black, and from every angle he appeared ordinary without any standout feature.
But having ordinary doesn't an weak, but it was exactly the opposite. His mind was calm, yet hidden within was a pure rule of sword that he had never seen. If it was a matter of the purity of his sword, even Apollo's sword was a bit behind.
His eyes—deep and unwavering—lifted toward Apollo and Tamora.
Tamora stepped forward and saluted. "Commander, I brought soone you might want to et. He appeared during our skirmish and… eliminated a horde of abyssal beasts single-handedly."
The commander's gaze sharpened, assessing Apollo with silent intensity. "Is that so?"
He leaned back slightly, studying him as though asuring his strength. "That's no small feat. Few could kill those things in a single strike."
In fact, deep within, he was a bit surprised, as even he felt a danger the mont he tried to understand his strength. He is a true swordsman, and he firmly believes in his instinct, which he sharpened through his life.
He is at the peak of the eternal god realm, but with his understanding of sword rule, he can even fight with so half-step transcendent gods, yet he felt danger from this young guy at the true god level, aning he at least has so ans or treasure that can be dangerous for him.
Apollo t his stare evenly, his expression unreadable. "It wasn't worth ntioning."
The commander chuckled softly, the sound deep and asured. "Haha, it's difficult to downplay sothing like that," he said, his tone easing slightly. "But let's set that aside. We have more important matters to discuss."
For a brief mont, silence filled the room. The only sound was the faint hum of the sheathed sword beside him, as if responding to its master's mood.
Then, the commander's gaze steadied once more on Apollo. The warmth in his eyes dimd, replaced by quiet scrutiny. "Tell ," he said slowly, "who are you… And where did you co from?"
The question lingered in the air, not hostile—but heavy with authority. Tamora shifted slightly beside him, sensing the tension, though she, too, seed curious about the stranger's answer.
Apollo remained calm, his expression unreadable. He had expected this question the mont he entered the room and had thought of answers, but ultimately every answer would still create doubts, as he could not tell the truth.
This ti wasn't like his previous travel to the Black Fla Sovereign Realm. He isn't as helpless as before, so unless he is at his end, he wouldn't tell the truth.
"I don't know; I don't really rember anything. The mont I awakened, I was in this land without any mory of myself."
He simply lied and told them he lost his mory, as it was the best reasoning for his current situation.
The commander's expression didn't change, but his eyes deepened with a quiet, searching sharpness—as if each second asured the weight of Apollo's words. Tamora turned slightly, studying him too, uncertain whether to believe the calm-faced youth before her.
For a long mont, the room was silent except for the faint hum of sword resonance in the air. Finally, the commander exhaled slowly, resting a hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
"mory loss, huh?" His tone was mild, yet there was a layer of scepticism beneath it. "That's convenient… but not impossible."
He looked down briefly at the scrolls scattered across his desk—battle reports, casualty lists, rift expansion data—and then back up at Apollo. "Still," he continued, "you walk and fight like soone who's lived his whole life by the sword. No lost mory could hide that."
"And just because of your calm and pure aura of rule of sword, I can say you aren't an enemy."
"Not to ntion your strength can ease the pressure, so I was hoping you can help us."
Apollo's gaze didn't waver. "Help you?" he repeated softly.
The commander nodded, fingers lightly tapping the table. "You've seen it yourself—the northern frontier is crumbling. Every day, the Abyss expands further. Our sword formations barely hold the rifts closed, and every loss weakens the domain's balance."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly as though weighing each word. "You might not rember who you are, but your strength is undeniable. If you lend it to the Crimson Domain—at least until you regain your mories—it could save countless lives."
Tamora glanced at Apollo, her earlier caution giving way to a faint spark of hope. "We've been losing ground faster than reinforcents arrive. Even one more true powerhouse could turn the tide."
Apollo thought for a mont and quickly made his decision. He knew how dangerous the Abyss was, and he didn't know where to go, so this outpost was the right place to begin.
"Okay, I will definitely help, but while I am staying, I want to read and learn about everything," he agreed and asked what he needed right now.
The commander's lips curved into a faint smile—not one of triumph, but of respect. A sense of relief appeared on his face as he knew Apollo was definitely very strong and his help would have a deep impact.
"That's fair," he said after a pause. I'll give the order myself."
He rose from his chair slowly, the quiet scrape of wood echoing in the room. As he stood, the restrained aura around him changed—calm but vast, like a sword kept forever sheathed. "You'll be treated as a guest," he continued, "but once you step outside these walls, you'll be one of us. Our enemies won't care who you are or where you ca from."
Apollo nodded slightly. "Understood."
Tamora exhaled in relief, her shoulders finally easing. "Then I'll take him to the archives and arrange his place," she said.
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