Arya Reynolds felt a faint sense of paranoia settle in.
She stood atop the mountain pass, the wind brushing against her black leather tunic as it rustled lightly. Her gaze moved across the hill once more, her expression growing grimmer beneath the cover of her dark cloak.
"What a pathetic bunch of idiots."
Across the hill, between the trees and underbrush, Garrison Officers were spread out in large numbers. They were positioned all over the mountain, some in small groups, others alone, moving with clear discipline as they made sure nothing got past the first line of trees at the mountain's edge.
But what bothered Arya wasn't their positioning.
It was what she could sense from them.
"The majority are C and D rank… and only about two B ranks," she said with a click of her tongue. "This is nowhere near enough. Was the idiot who assembled this group even thinking?"
Chordbearers were rare, and those of higher rank even more so. The death rate among them was high enough that A-rankers didn't even make up ten percent of the rank below them.
Arya knew that.
Yet…
She looked toward a particularly large pine tree at the center of the clearing, where a teenage girl sat on its thickest trunk, her glass-like eyes fixed on the remains of the fallen city below.
This was Sera Myllan.
Sera—one of the hopes of the human race. A girl with an absurdly broken class, a monster even among prodigies.
For someone like her, this army of "trash" was barely enough to qualify as protection. Even then, enemies from the Dissonant Hand who would be willing to act personally to deal with her existed at ranks as high as S-Rank—Virtuarchs.
And Virtuarchs were absolute. World-ending calamities on any battlefield. So what could this small force hope to do against someone like that?
"No… I alone am enough."
She was Arya Reynolds—her Mistress Shadow, her hidden blade, her protector. With her blood, sweat, and flesh, she would burn through every last ember of her being to make sure no harm came to her Lady.
She didn't need anyone. If she ever did, it would mean she had failed.
And she could not, she would not, and she would never.
Turning away from the edge of the slope, she took a step toward the pine tree.
With that step, a long, smoky black string trailed behind her, letting out a faint, haunting ring.
She disappeared.
When she reappeared, she stood at the base of the tree, looking up at the expressionless girl seated comfortably against its thick trunk. Sera sat with her legs crossed, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the wood beneath her.
The girl's silver hair gleamed under the harsh midday sun. She wore a long white designer dress that stopped at her knees, paired with leggings that hugged her slender legs and tucked neatly into her boots.
Her face was striking—almost unreal. It carried a kind of perfection that made it hard to look at for too long, leaving a quiet sense of awe in its wake.
Slowly, she turned away from the view of the ruined city below. Her glass-like eyes shifted, settling on Arya with unsettling clarity.
Arya held her gaze for a moment, then bowed.
She heard the faint sound of feet touching the ground, barely audible. When she raised her head, the girl was already standing right in front of her, her expression a mix of resignation and mild annoyance.
Arya couldn't help the small smile that formed. Her Miss was always like this whenever she showed proper etiquette, but there was still a need to maintain clear boundaries—lines that should never be crossed.
She was her Miss Shadow. She would act as such, and nothing more.
Sera rolled her eyes, her tone edged with irritation. "Humph. You're always so stoic and robotic. Are you sure it's not time to consider getting a boyfriend?"
Arya's smile remained. "Miss, my flesh is your shield, and my soul your sword."
Sera's eyebrow twitched slightly at that. "Goodness, not the cringe monologues again. Just admit you have poor social skills and stop using me to cover it up. You only ever talk to me and glare at everyone else like they killed your parents."
Arya's smile tightened, just a little. "Miss, we were too late. The boy is already gone. This city had already been infiltrated by the Dissonant Hand. Who's to say there aren't still remnants of those scum? This could even be a trap meant to lure you out and eliminate you. We shouldn't linger here."
A faint ache settled in Arya's chest as she recalled why they were here in the first place.
It all came down to a cursed boy.
A nameless, talentless little rat. A stain on her Lady's reputation.
Arya had never seen him herself, but she had heard enough from the Harmonic Council officials who had come to retrieve her Lady from this underdeveloped hellhole.
They described him as foul-mouthed, irritating, and the kind of kid you just wanted to punch on sight. A rotten character through and through. Everything about him was something she despised, and she couldn't even stand the thought of someone like that being within a few feet of her Miss.
And yet… he had grown up alongside her.
Long enough to leave a mark that didn't fade easily.
Even now, her Miss rarely brought him up anymore, but Arya could tell. In the quiet moments, when her gaze drifted and her expression went distant, she still thought about him.
…almost like an addiction.
Usually, it took every bit of Arya's restraint not to go find the boy and end him.
In fact, when she first heard about the calamity that had struck the city, she felt a quiet, fleeting sense of satisfaction at the thought that the boy might already have been consumed—lost beneath the swarm of advancing Echoforms.
But no.
Somehow, absurdly, he had survived.
Arya remembered grinding her teeth at the news, a feeling close to being mocked settling in her chest.
Because really—what were the chances?
What were the chances that a weak, insignificant kid like that would survive something that had taken the lives of people far stronger than him?
The odds were impossible, and yet… and yet…
Sera turned her face away, beginning to walk toward the expanse of the city sprawled beneath them. After a brief hesitation, Arya followed.
From above, the damage was clear—upturned structures, shattered buildings, and the skeletal remains of billboards standing amid the destruction. Even from this distance, the scale of what had happened was visible.
But what stood out most was the silence.
No movement. No voices. No life in the streets below.
That absence made the reality of the city feel even heavier.
"You really think I came all the way here for Elias?" Sera said, her fist tightening at her side as she smiled.
The expression didn't reach her eyes. It was bitter. Angry.
"You know, Asra… when I heard about what happened to Arvenelle, I felt something strange." She exhaled softly, her gaze fixed ahead. "It's a feeling I've only had once before—when my father died."
Her grip tightened slightly.
"And gods… it was horrible. It felt like my heart was being torn out of my chest."
She stopped, a short laugh slipping out—but there was no warmth in it, only anger.
"And when I asked one of the Federation Governors if they would go after the ones responsible," she continued, "he didn't even bother to hide his disinterest. It almost felt… like Arvenelle was just a pebble by the roadside."
Arya didn't respond. She knew better than to speak at a moment like this.
"Look, Asra," Sera said, spreading her arms toward the ruined city below, her expression sharp with fury. "You keep forgetting that I spent part of my life in this city. I had family. I had friends."
Her voice steadied, but the emotion behind it didn't fade.
"They're all dead now. All of them." A pause. "The real question is… who's going to give them justice?"
Her mirror-like eyes shone with a piercing intensity. Behind her, a glass-like string began to form, its presence subtle at first before its ripples spread outward in steady, heavy waves.
Under that pressure, Arya felt it.
A faint sting in her chest.
It wasn't physical. It felt more like her very thoughts were being touched, exposed under an invisible weight—like she was being measured without consent.
"No, Asra, I didn't come here for Elias," she said. "I came to see the ruins of my city, to fuel my conviction and my hatred for those vile things. No one will give them justice, so I will do it myself."
Sera's voice was calm and clear, every word carrying a firm resolve. Arya felt her pulse quicken at the sound of it, something in her blood stirring as if it had been set alight.
This was the Sera she knew. The Miss she was willing to give her life for.
"I will ascend to the top of the world," Sera continued, her tone steady, unshaken. "And I will destroy anything that stands in my way—gods, mortals, monsters. I will tear them all apart. I will bring devastation to the Mirroths and hunt down everything they've spawned. I will leave nothing behind but total destruction."
Arya's fists clenched, her eyes tightening with a focused intensity.
"For creatures like that… I will be dread. I will be death."
Sera's eyes narrowed into thin slits.
"I will be annihilation."