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Pall of smokes that had shrouded southern Trost for hours was finally beginning to thin, bullied aside by a cold, grey dawn. It didn't bring clarity, only a stark, desolate light to the scale of the ruin. The central market square of Trost's outer district looked like the playground of a petulant, fire-breathing god.
Sergeant Bauer stood at the epicenter, his Garrison-issue boots planted in a slurry of ash, melted cobblestone, and something that had once been a market stall. His face was a mask of soot and exhaustion, etched with lines that hadn't been there yesterday.
Around him, a handful of his garrison soldiers moved with the weary, automatic motions of men running on fumes. They weren't fighting a fire anymore; they were conducting a macabre archaeological dig. They poked at scorched timbers, sketched rough maps of the beast's charge-path, and bagged fragments of… things. One young recruit, green around the gills, was meticulously measuring the depth of the claw-gouge in the earth where the abomination had fallen. His hands trembled slightly.
"Anything?" Bauer's voice was a gravelly rasp, stripped raw by smoke and shouting.
"Nothing new, Sarge," the recruit mumbled, not looking up. "Just… more of the same. Scorch patterns. Melted lead from the volley." He pointed towards the direction.
Bauer grunted. His report was a masterpiece of restrained insanity. He'd written it three times, each version sounding more deranged than the last. In the end, he'd settled on cold, clipped facts: Large, unidentified lifeform. Exhibited extreme heat control and phased movement. Engaged by garrison forces. Sustained fire ineffective. Creature disengaged, proceeding north-northwest. One civilian child, male, missing from the scene. Presumed abducted by the creature. He'd left out the flying red thing that shot green lightning. Some fragments of sanity needed preserving, if only for the record.
The sound of hooves on cracked stone made him turn. A squad of Military Police trotted into the square, their polished uniform and insignia glaringly pristine against the universal grey. They moved with an entitled languor, their horses picking daintily through the debris. Bauer felt a familiar, weary resentment curdle in his gut.
The MP at the front, a Captain with a neatly trimmed mustache and the perpetually bored expression of a man who finds the world beneath him, reined in his mount and looked down at Bauer. His eyes swept over the devastation with mild distaste, as if surveying a poorly maintained park.
"Sergeant… Bauer, is it?" the Captain said, his voice smooth and disinterested.
"Captain Weil," Bauer confirmed, saluting stiffly. "The scene is secure. My men have conducted a preliminary survey."
"So I see." Weil dismounted, his boots landing with a soft crunch. He didn't bother to return the salute properly, offering a lazy flick of his wrist instead. Behind him, his squad followed suit. One, a lanky man with bags under his eyes, let out a theatrical yawn he didn't bother to hide.
"Dragged out of bed for this," the yawning MP muttered to his companion, a stocky man with a perpetual smirk. "All this talk of that forsaken Demon dog. Right. Probably just a big wolf with mange and a lucky streak."
"Shouldn't we be celebrating if it's gone?" the stocky one quipped, nudging a blackened piece of wood with his toe. "One less monster to worry about. Save the kingdom a few bullets."
A third MP, a woman with a sharp face, pointed silently at the deep, wagon-wide furrow torn through the square, then at the shattered facades of the surrounding buildings. Her meaning was clear: This wasn't a mangey wolf.
Weil ignored his subordinates' chatter. "Right. We'll take it from here, Sergeant. Standard procedure for a… volatile missing persons case with atypical parameters." He said it like he was reading from a manual he found tedious.
"Your men can stand down. We'll need full statements from each of them, of course. And…whatever evidence you obtained."
Bauer's jaw tightened. "Captain, with respect, this isn't a typical case. That creature was unlike anything in the logs. It shrugged off rifle fire like rain. The heat it gave off could ignite wood at twenty paces. And it took a child. We need to mobilize search parties, track it before the trail goes completely cold. It headed into the forests bordering the farmlands. If it crosses into the outer districts…"
"Your concern is noted, Sergeant," Weil interrupted, his tone dismissive. "But hunting giant dogs, mangey or otherwise, is Garrison work. Apprehending dangerous fugitives and coordinating metropolitan searches falls under MP jurisdiction. We'll handle the lockdown. No one in or out of the affected districts without clearance. We'll find the dog and the… child." He said 'child' as if it were an inconvenient piece of lost property.
"Sir, you need to take this seriously," Bauer insisted, his voice low and urgent, stepping closer. "That thing isn't just a dog. It's a walking disaster. The boy might already be—"
"Yeah, yeah," the stocky MP cut in, waving a hand. "We're on it. Relax, Garrison. Go get some sleep. You look like you need it." He shared a smirk with the yawning man.
Bauer felt a hot surge of fury, but he clamped down on it. Arguing with MPs was a career-ending move. He gave a stiff, final nod. "Very well, Captain. My men and our reports are at your disposal." He turned to his weary soldiers. "Alright, you heard him. Fall back to the outpost. Debrief and stand by."
As his men began to trudge away, shoulders slumped with a mixture of relief and resentment, the MPs fanned out with an air of procedural boredom. Weil began issuing orders in a monotone. "Martiz, sketch the scene. Grent, catalog the physical evidence. Folke, start interviewing the locals who haven't fled. Keep it simple, don't encourage hysterics."
The MPs set to work with a sluggish efficiency. The sharp-faced woman, Martiz, actually began sketching. The others moved slowly, their attention clearly elsewhere.
"Where's Renick?" the yawning MP asked after a while, looking around. "Haven't seen that sour face for a bit."
"Last I saw him, he was grumbling about the shitty camp latrines and headed off to find a proper wall," the stocky one, Grent, replied. "Said he had to take a shit."
A snort. "Smart bastard. Finds a way to skive off even out here. Probably found a nice sunny spot for a nap while we sift through this ash."
The conversation died as they resumed their lethargic investigation. Bauer watched from the edge of the square, felt a profound and chilling hopelessness settle over him. They were looking at the aftermath of a disastrous skirmish and instead saw a paperwork nuisance. Like the creature was a problem to be filed away.
He turned and walked away, the dismissive laughter of the MPs scratching at his back. He had done his duty. He had reported the truth. And the truth, it seemed, was too inconvenient to be believed.
Somewhere within Wall Sina…
The torches in the subterranean chamber of the forever knights flickered across obsidian walls, catching on the gold inlay of a massive, cruciform sword resting against a stone throne.
Ser Valerius knelt on the hard floor, his head bowed. The right side of his face was a landscape of ruin; a blood-crusted bandage covered the hollow, agonized socket where his eye had been. The pain was a constant, shrieking symphony, but it was nothing compared to the icy dread pooling in his gut. To his left knelt Agil, posture rigid, face pale. To his right, Gideon, the mountain of a man, seemed somehow shrunken, his usual bluster evaporated. Further back, Anya and Vance trembled visibly, still in their travel-stained clothes for some reason; awaiting judgment.
Before them, Lord Aldric stood with his back turned, studying a vast, detailed map of Paradis. His golden gaze was fixed on the southern region of Wall Rose, where a small, charred mark had been placed over the 103rd Cadet Corps. His hands were clasped behind his back, the picture of calm. It was the most terrifying thing in the room.
"Let me ensure I comprehend the totality of the situation," Aldric began, his voice a low, resonant baritone that seemed to vibrate in the stone. He didn't turn. "Operation 'Purge,' a divine scalpel to excise a cosmic blight and its witnesses, was initiated." He ticked off points on invisible fingers. "One: The primary target, the demon dog foremost, was not secured. It was, in fact, driven into a frenzy and unleashed upon the populace, creating a regional conflagration."
A beat of silence. Valerius flinched.
"Two: A secondary, unknown variable entered the equation. A shapeshifting entity, the 'Crystal Titan' no less, now observed in a new, aerial form and not only that…turned to a youngling of the demon dog. This entity directly intervened, most likely saved the scouts and cadet lives, and apparently engaged our primary target."
Another pause, heavier. Agil's breath hitched.
"Three: Due to a combination of tactical failure, exposure, and the aforementioned intervention, the purge of witnesses was incomplete. Dozens of cadets and an entire Scout squad now possess knowledge of our methods, our technology, and our presence."
Gideon swallowed audibly.
"Four: In the process, two of our specialized extraterrestrial artifacts—the Screecher and the Snare, devices that took considerable resources to prototype and remake in this place…were first tampered with by children, and then left behind or destroyed in the retreat."
Now, Aldric slowly turned. His golden eyes were not blazing with fury. They were flat, cold, deeply disappointed suns. That was infinitely worse. His gaze swept over them, lingering on Valerius's bandaged face.
"An absolute, cascading failure," he stated, the words final as a guillotine's drop. "A mission of holy simplicity, rendered into a farce of incompetence and unforeseen variables."
His gaze settled on the Silent Knight, who stood slightly apart. The knight's featureless porcelain mask was now a spiderweb of cracks, from the temple down to the jawline. A single, faint red glow pulsed behind the largest fissure.
"You," Aldric said, his tone shifting to one of weary assessment. "You are damaged. Go to the apothecary-chamber. Have the bindings checked, the motivators recalibrated. You are of no use to me malfunctioning."
The Silent Knight offered a stiff, silent bow, then turned and glided from the room, a ghost departing a graveyard.
Aldric's attention then swung to Anya and Vance. The two operatives flinched as if struck. "And you," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that cut deeper than any shout.
"You who fled the exposure at the Scout hive. You who left brothers to be captured and broken. You who return with tales of chaos and no tangible result." He took a single step towards them. "I believe we discussed the cost of failure."
"M-My lord, we—" Vance began, his voice a terrified croak.
Aldric didn't let him finish. In one fluid motion, he drew his massive sword. The weapon humming as it cleared the scabbard, a sound like a tuning fork struck against a glacier. The torchlight ran like liquid gold along its impossible edge. He raised it, point aimed at Vance's heart.
"The divine ledger demands balance."
Anya squeezed her eyes shut. Vance braced for the end.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound was polite, precise, utterly incongruous. It came from the chamber's ornate door.
Aldric's sword did not waver, but his head tilted a fraction. "Enter."
The door opened. A man in the crisp, uniform of the Military Police walked in. He had a forgettable face, the kind designed to blend into crowds and official paperwork. He ignored the scene of impending execution and offered a crisp salute.
"Lord Aldric. Apologies for the intrusion. Field report from the Trost sector," the MP-knight said, his voice neutral. "The Garrison's search for the 'Demon Dog' has been officially handed to MP jurisdiction. They are… proceeding with characteristic lethargy. The creature's whereabouts remain unknown. However, the missing child report is confirmed. A boy. The creature was seen departing the engagement zone with the child in its mouth."
Aldric's golden eyes narrowed. Slowly, he lowered his sword. The hum faded. "The changeling boy, no doubt." he murmured, pieces clicking into place. He looked at Valerius. "The one you saw. The one who faced the demonic beast."
Valerius nodded stiffly. "Yes, my lord. Just before it… evolved."
"So the beast has its maker, or its co-worker, in its jaws," Aldric mused, turning back to the map. "Where would such a creature go? Wounded? Hunted? With a fragile prize?"
Gideon, eager to contribute, opened his mouth. "Maybe it went to—"
"Be silent," Aldric said without looking, and Gideon's jaw snapped shut. "It would not stay near human settlements. It is a predator, and it is scared. It would seek territory it could dominate, or obscurity so complete it could vanish." His finger traced a line on the map, past the southern farms of Wall Rose, to the very edge of the inked territory. "It would go where humans are not. Where we are not. Beyond the inner gate…Beyond Wall Rose…Into Titan territory."
A hushed silence fell. Beyond the wall. It was a death sentence for any normal human, a sentence to be eaten alive.
"The boy would be dead by dawn," Agil ventured quietly. "The Titans are most active in daylight by this time. If the beast crossed the frontier…"
"A reasonable assumption," a new voice said.
From an arched shadow near the back of the chamber, a man stepped forward. He was tall, lean, dressed in the dark, practical robes of a scholar or a physician, but they were tailored with a subtle, aggressive cut. His hair was partly silver, his face sharp and intelligent, with eyes that held a calculating, almost hungry light. This was the Order's chief theoretician and one of their bio-alchemist.
"But, my lord," the man continued, gliding forward, "we must think orthogonally. This is no normal boy. This is a verified shapeshifter, a being who can become a crystalline fortress or a supersonic aerial predator, or the very kin of the four-legged creature. He survived a direct confrontation with an evolved extraterrestrial being. Who is to say what his limits are? Or his symbiosis with the creature?"
Aldric regarded Enoch. "Your point, Enoch?"
"The boy may yet live," The man now identified as Enoch said, a spark of fanatical curiosity in his eyes. "The creature may not see him as food, but as… kin. Or as a tool. Their interaction defies our current models. This is an unprecedented opportunity for field observation. To study the blight, the 'cure,' and their interaction in a natural… or rather, a violently unnatural setting. Much like that device on his wrist, the source of this changeling's power."
Aldric was silent for a long moment, contemplating the map. The rage was gone, sublimated into cold, razor-sharp strategy. He turned his gaze back to the kneeling Anya and Vance, then to the wounded Valerius, Agil, and Gideon.
"A change of plans," he announced. "The purge is a scar. We will not pick at it. We will hunt bigger game." He looked at Valerius. "You have failed me. All of you." His gaze swept over them.
"But failure can be a lesson, if the student survives it." He pointed a finger at Valerius, Agil, and Gideon. "You three, remain. You will oversee the sanitization of our Trost assets and the containment of any further Scout's investigation. You are on probation. Another mistake, and I will remove more than an eye."
The dismissal was brutal. Valerius's shoulders slumped in a mixture of shame and relief. The three rose unsteadily and backed out of the chamber.
Aldric then focused on Anya and Vance, who were still trembling on their knees. "As for you two… you were dead men when you walked in here. Your lives are forfeit to the Order."
"My lord, please—" Anya whispered.
"However," Aldric overrode her, "Sir Enoch requires field agents for his… observational hunt. Agents whose loss would be of minimal consequence to our operational integrity."
Enoch smiled thinly.
"You will accompany him," Aldric decreed. "Beyond the Wall. You will find the Vulpimancer and the changeling. You will observe, you will record, you will assess. You will not engage unless capture is absolutely assured and silent. If you are seen, if you compromise the mission, Enoch has orders to leave you for the Titans. Consider it a chance for redemption, or a delayed execution. Your choice."
The blood drained from Anya and Vance's faces. Beyond the Wall. It was a death sentence with extra steps.
"Enoch," Aldric said. "Take a hand-picked squad. Real Knights. Use these two as scouts, as bait, as you see fit. Find them. I want data. I want to know how this boy works. And if you get the chance…" His golden eyes glinted. "Put the demon dog down. A failed specimen is still a specimen, but a loose one is an embarrassment."
Enoch bowed deeply. "It will be done, my lord. The cosmos writes its secrets in flesh and energy. I shall be its scribe." He straightened, his gaze falling on the two terrified operatives. "Gather your gear. We leave before the MPs finish their first coffee."
As Enoch ushered the shell-shocked Anya and Vance out, another figure detached from the shadows near the door; a man in a dirty black trench coat and matching black hat, with a scraggly beard and eyes that held a century's worth of cynical amusement. Kenny Ackerman leaned against the doorframe, picking his teeth with a knife.
"A bit hard on the help, don't you think, Aldric?" Kenny drawled. "Might run out of willing bodies at this rate."
Aldric didn't look at him. "The Ackerman's concern for my human resources is touching. But misplaced. You are here to check on your charge, not critique my management."
"Just passing by, heard the shouting," Kenny said, shrugging. "The Queen is fine. Bored. Likes the flowers I bring her. Simpler times, eh?" His eyes, however, were sharp, taking in the tense aftermath in the room.
"See that she remains that way," Aldric said, his tone a clear warning. "Your relevance is tied to her stability. Do not forget it."
Kenny's smirk didn't falter, but a cold glint entered his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it." He pushed off the wall and sauntered out, whistling a tuneless dirge.
Alone again, Aldric walked to his throne and sat, laying the massive sword across his knees. He stared at the charred mark on the map. A boy who changed forms. A beast that was…changed back. A wild card that had shattered a careful, holy plan.
"A changeling…" he murmured to the empty, torch-lit room. "And the device, the cause of his shapeshifting powers. A key… or a plague."
Chapter 29-31 are already available on Patreon.com/Weeb Fanthom.