The city of Oxglen is nestled on the sunny side of a gentle mountain, a vibrant and fully modern tropolis. Its charm is enhanced by nearly perpetual clear skies, which have shaped the city’s very identity.
This exceptional climate has been profoundly influential, informing everything from daily rhythms to architectural choices. Buildings are designed with large windows and lush gardens to embrace the abundant sunlight and fresh air.
The skyline is studded with elegant skyscrapers that reflect the city’s confident spirit. Oxglen’s healthcare and public services are top-tier, drawing widespread admiration. Over ti, diverse cultures have woven themselves into the city’s fabric, enriching its education, arts, and community life. Once a place of uniformity, Oxglen has blossod into a colorful blend of influences, uniting its one million residents in shared pride.
This rich multicultural tapestry truly defines the city. Delicious offerings from countless diners, bakeries, and ethnic restaurants provide a taste of the world. For those seeking new experiences, Oxglen is perfect for exploring, sightseeing, dancing, or enjoying its many lively recreational spots.
This was the trio’s destination. The super train glided to a stop at the tro station, and they disembarked.
Elreth stretched, her muscles emitting a soft pop. Khione shot her a glare of irritation, which the princess pointedly ignored as she took in their surroundings. Nero massaged his temples briefly before motioning for them to move out, leading the way toward the mayor’s mansion.
"This is a beautiful city," Nero remarked. The others nodded, quietly admiring the picturesque scenery.
The townspeople watched them with open curiosity—first because of their striking appearances, and second because of their distinctive uniforms. They recognized them as cadets from the world’s most prestigious academy, Glory Academy, surely here to complete a mission. And lastly, the two girls wore small crests representing their legendary clans: the burning phoenix of the Samael, the most powerful clan, and the rmaid encircling a lake, symbol of the Undine clan.
Respect was imdiate. And when they noticed Nero’s trademark dark blue hair and ominous red eyes, they identified him at once: the forr mber of the second-strongest clan, the Raizen; the boy who broke every convention; the abnormality capable of wielding two different laws. Their eyes shone with awe, envy, and deep respect. Children waved excitedly, and the cadets waved back.
They quickened their pace, hailed a cab, and set off for the mayor’s mansion to announce their presence before beginning their mission in earnest.
They arrived at the mayor’s mansion, a stately building of pale stone surrounded by manicured gardens. A polite attendant ushered them inside to et Mayor Alistair, a kind-eyed man with a worried frown.
"Thank you for coming," he said, gesturing for them to sit. "We have a troubling situation. For about a week now, livestock—mostly cows—have been disappearing from the outlying villages. We thought it might be wolves or perhaps a rogue beast. But three days ago... people started vanishing too. Two farrs, then a hunter. They just... never returned."
He spread his hands helplessly. "Our local guards have found nothing. No tracks, no signs of a struggle. It’s as if they were plucked from the earth. That’s why I requested help from the Academy. This has been classified as a Level Two mission."
The trio listened intently. A Level Two was more serious than a simple pest control job. It implied an intelligent threat, or a dangerous one.
"We’ll handle it," Nero said, speaking for the group. The girls nodded in agreent.
The mayor looked visibly relieved. "Thank you. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging accommodations for you. Given your... esteed backgrounds, I thought you’d prefer privacy." He led them to a small, charming villa at the edge of the mansion grounds. It had three separate bedrooms, a common living area, and a view of the mountains. It was clear he understood their status and was showing them respect.
"I’ve also organized a small welco banquet for this evening," the mayor added with a warm smile. "The town is eager to et you and show our gratitude."
"We’ll be there," Elreth said with her practiced diplomatic grace. Khione gave a slight, cool nod. Nero agreed.
Once the mayor left, they slipped into their temporary ho. The villa was quiet and clean, furnished simply but comfortably. Each of them claid a room, storing their light travel packs. The unspoken tension from the train was back, but it was muted now, pushed aside by the focus of the mission.
They regrouped in the living area. The reality of the task settled over them. This wasn’t a training exercise. People were missing. The peaceful, sun-drenched city of Oxglen had a shadow, and it was their job to find it. The welco banquet was a few hours away—a brief mont of civility before they began their real work in the darkened villages beyond the city’s cheerful lights.
The afternoon sun was warm and gentle over the villa. With a few hours before the banquet, they each settled into their own ways of preparing.
Nero and Khione changed into simple swimwear and headed to the small, clear pool in the private backyard. The water was cool and refreshing. For a while, they didn’t swim laps or play. They just floated, side by side, holding hands on the surface of the water, looking up at the passing clouds. It was a pocket of quiet intimacy, a way to wash away the journey’s dust and just breathe together. No words were needed. The sun ward their skin, and the water held them weightless.
anwhile, on a flat, rocky outcrop in the low mountains behind the villa, Elreth trained. She wore practical exercise clothes, her fiery hair tied back. Her spear was a blur of controlled motion. She practiced forms—thrusts, sweeps, parries—each move precise and powerful, channeling a flicker of her Law of Fire into the tip to make it gleam in the sunlight. This was her ditation. The physical exertion helped smooth the edges of her frustration, the feeling of being the perpetual outsider looking in. With every practiced strike, she reinforced her resolve and her purpose.
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