Morning broke over. Pale light filtering through the narrow slits of the windows. The underground base remained cloaked in its perpetual artificial lighting but above it, the world had turned golden with the sun.
General Lennard, in his own ho, stirred in his bed. His instincts were already pushing him toward wakefulness.
Years of commanding elite forces had hardwired him to wake early. Even on days when he didn’t need to.
He reached for his phone on the bedside table while still half-lying down. His eyes squinted at the screen.
His thumb slid across the locked display. His inbox showed a single ssage at the top:
"From: Sergeant Erend Drake."
"10 Targets Neutralized. No mortal casualties. Evidence secured."
Lennard exhaled through his nose and gave a quiet scoff of approval.
"He really did it," he muttered, a slight smirk forming in his lips. "He caught all of them with nobody dead, and with evidence." He shook his head, more impressed than surprised. "Of course he did. He’s Erend."
With that, he set the phone down, got out of bed, and moved toward the bathroom to freshen up.
After dressing, he joined his wife for a brief breakfast, though his mind was already elsewhere.
By the ti he left the house, he’d skipped the route to the military base and instead headed straight to the underground facility.
An hour later he stood inside a secured annex. An isolated building adjacent to the main compound but different.
The room was sterile, brightly lit, and flanked by two layers of security doors. Inside sat ten prisoners who were the spies Erend had captured just hours ago.
They were seated in a line of reinforced chairs, wrists bound to the fras, guarded by two ard operatives at each end.
Their expressions varied. So showing nervous sweats, thinly veiled defiance and fierceness, and clear fear. A few avoided eye contact altogether. Others tried to maintain their composure.
So looked like frightened teens. Because that’s what they were. They look like the young, trained, but expendable agents sent by corporations and nations to gather what they could.
Now they were caught and their bravado was beginning to peel.
General Lennard entered with Erend, Adrien, Billy, Jessica, Conrad, and Thomas at his side. The air grew tenser with every step they took across the room.
Jessica’s eyes scanned the captured spies, a mix of caution and awe in her expression.
She turned to Erend.
"Sergeant," she said, her voice steady but tinged with disbelief, "you managed to bring them all in last night? With evidence?"
Erend nodded once. "Yes."
Jessica swallowed hard. She still feared what Magic could do, what Erend could do, but she couldn’t deny the results.
"Impressive," she murmured, almost to herself.
General Lennard stepped forward. His voice carried no theatrics, just cold command and truths.
"You have two choices. Imprisonnt or execution. Right here and right now. You of course understand that there will be no records of your existence once you are caught."
The spies stiffened. Murmurs passed between so of them.
Lennard continued, "But if you speak and give us full disclosure about your employers, you’ll live. I’m not interested in pawns. I want the ones who sent you."
The room pulsed with tension and silence. So of them fidgeted their tied fingers. Then anxious breathing. The weight of the decision hung heavy.
Eventually, five of them—those sent by corporations or independent syndicates—lowered their heads.
One by one, they agreed.
"I’ll talk," said the first.
"Just... don’t kill ." The others nodded, defeated.
Their loyalty was bought with paychecks, not principles.
Three others stayed silent but proud.
"My nation cos first," one muttered.
"You’ll get nothing from ." The other one agreed.
The final two never spoke. They have cold eyes and flat expressions. Professionals, or already resigned to death.
Lennard gave a slow nod. "Fine."
He turned to his officers. "Separate them. Five into debriefing rooms. The loyalists in another block. Those two to the special holding. We will torture them later."
General Lennard intended to say that to make so certain announcent about their fate. Maybe it will change their mind, but maybe not.
The soldiers moved swiftly, splitting the group and leading them out. The interrogations were about to begin but it’s not their priority now so if the General decided to let them be imprisoned for a while it would be just fine.
General Lennard turned back to the group standing behind him. His gaze rested on Erend for a mont before he gave a sharp nod.
"Good work," he said simply.
Erend returned the gesture with a silent nod, expression neutral.
Without pause, Lennard turned to Thomas and Conrad. "We will start the project today."
Both n straightened at once, the weight of that statent snapping into place.
Thomas spoke first. "Understood, sir. I’ll begin preparations now."
Without waiting, he turned on his heel and exited the room at a brisk pace, already pulling up data on his tablet.
Conrad remained behind a mont longer. He managed to hide his excitent as he processed the implications of what was about to begin.
After a few more words between the team, Lennard dismissed them. They dispersed, each heading toward their respective quarters to prepare for what lay ahead in the depths of the underground facility.
—
In the Projection Arena, Arty was already deep in training. Her body moved fluidly, surrounded by spiraling wisps of fla that circled her arms and shoulders.
She was beginning to get a grip on her fire elentals, at least enough to summon and maintain them for several minutes without them misfiring or overheating.
But the other three elents, the earth, water, and wind, remained elusive in her mind. Still distant and unstable.
Arty exhaled, sweat lining her brow.
But she didn’t complain. She knew this would take ti. She’d only started a few days ago. Mastery didn’t co that fast.
Just then, the barrier to the arena opened and Sylmira entered holding a tray stacked with steaming breakfast.
"Arty! Co eat!" she called out, walking over.
Arty lowered her hands, letting the fire gently flicker out. She gave a tired but appreciative smile and nodded. "Alright."
They both sat on the ground.
Sylmira handed her a plate.
"You’re doing well," she said while biting into a slice of bread. "You’ve improved a lot faster than I expected."
Arty gave a slight nod. "The fire finally listens to . But the others have not yet."
"They will," Sylmira replied, voice firm with belief.
They chuckled lightly and continued eating in peace.
---
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