For over a day already, Noman sat crosslegged with a box, unaware of what was happening outside. He had his rations, as well as many cards to keep him sealed and protected so no one outside would be able to sense that he was inside the box.

The reason for this was because even Noman himself was not allowed to know when and how he would be taken back to Fordham. His father had explained that the situation with Dave was extremely abnormal. Considering the secret nature of Perilith, the army had already taken the utmost care in screening everyone in the base. For Dave, and potentially others, to go undetected should have been impossible.

The fact, then, that it happened meant that someone with significant power and resources was conspiring against them. With such an opponent, they had to take every possible step to ensure safety and security.

Thus, let alone others, not even Noman himself knew that he had finally left the base. After all, the box had special isolation barriers so that Noman, as well as the sealed Dave, could not know that they were even moving.

For the first few hours, Noman had heightened his awareness, constantly checking up on Dave to ensure nothing happened. Yet with the passage of time, he had to stop for he was growing tired. He decided to spend most of his time meditating with his eyes closed, and check up on Dave intermittently. After all, considering he was sealed, even checking up on him at all was an extra, unneeded precaution.

So it happened that when an unusual symbol began to appear on Dave’s skin, Noman did not notice in the darkness of the box. Underneath the strings sealing him, Dave’s eyes flashed open, containing a bizarre light, as if he were possessed. His lips contorted into a mad grin, one that was gruesome and inhuman, before his body exploded, turning into a bloody mist.

Noman… never got the opportunity to open his eyes again.

In a remarkable coincidence, the caravan transporting them was attacked at that very moment by Malflora – vegetation that had mutated due to cursed energy – as well as by Tainted – living beings that had been corrupted due to cursed energy.

The attack came suddenly, and it came with an unexpected force which even this caravan containing countless seasoned soldiers could not contain. The devastation caused was immense, giving the soldiers little time to defend themselves.

Yet, as if by some miracle, Lieutenant Earl Berkin arrived in only a few minutes, unleashing all his untamed fury. It was not for nothing that the honourable and ordinarily respectable man had earned the title the Hand of Damnation.

His right, skeletal hand, covered in black light, if that made sense, tore through the land, leaving not a single enemy any chance to resist. As the sole person in Kolar to have tamed cursed energy without being sentenced to the death penalty, his power was one that transcended the norms of ranks.

With his power unleashed without so much as a shred of restraint, it took mere seconds to turn the battlesite into a withered, cracked site of ruin… of damnation!

The danger they faced, and then their subsequent rescue both seemed to come with unexpected swiftness, yet the survivors could not feel a single shred of relief.

One one hand, in mere minutes, so many of them had died that they could scarcely come to terms with what had happened, still under shock. On the other hand, the raging, terrifying aura coming off the Lieutenant as he stood before a destroyed box, not a single hint of what it had once contained save the faint smell of blood, left the soldiers unable to celebrate their survival.

It was almost as if they had managed to survive, yet they failed an incredibly important mission without knowing it. What else could shake a man as stoic as the Lieutenant so badly? What else?

Minutes turned to hours. Day turned to night. Soldiers came and studied the site. They searched for traces of what happened. They searched for the origin of the part that launched the surprise attack. Anything – they searched for anything they could find, while Lieutenant Earl stood still in the exact spot, his figure like a terrifying message to their enemies that Kolar could not be messed with.

Not a one of them realised that in front of them stood a man struck with unending, overwhelming grief. All they saw was their usual commander, dominating the battlefield, sending out a message to any who dared attack his men. His stern expression remained unchanged, as if not even the end of the world itself could cause a crack in his mental fortitude.

Respect slowly built up in the hearts of his soldiers. The Lieutenant’s reputation was already stellar, so this rare display of power and authority in response to the attack on his soldiers earned even more respect.

As night once again turned to day, very few knew the truth. Very few knew that before them was a man bound by duty, yet drowning in untold sorrow. He was a man who had dug an empty grave for his father, who had no body left to even cremate. Now, he was a man who had survived his only son – the prodigy who had been admired even by the Sages.

“Did you find anything?” Earl asked, his voice scarily even, and devoid of emotions. Behind him stood a group of soldiers wearing a unique and somewhat famous uniform. Dressed entirely in white, with masks covering their faces, they were the Enforcement officers of the Felix corp – one of the most mysterious yet simultaneously famous groups of officers in the country.

“There was a calling card,” one of them said. “This was a deliberate act of provocation. A file has been prepared for you. Sage Triss sent her condolences, and a set of unsigned transfer papers. All you need to do is stamp it, and you can be assigned to the investigation.”

Earl did not answer. He did not have an answer to give.

Without looking back, the Lieutenant returned to his base, easing the tense soldiers and restoring order. Those who needed to know the truth of what happened already knew, and those who did not should remain ignorant.

His mere presence, after such a domineering display of power, raised the bases morale, and the soldiers patrolled the grounds with increased vigor. A fire of motivation spread through the base as the soldiers marched, wearing their pride on their chests. Having a powerful superior was a matter of immense pride and honour among soldiers.

This was as it should be. This was his duty. This is what it meant to be a soldier.

Yet among the gazes of reverence and worship, Earl felt one that was different. Earl looked towards its source and saw a weary teenager, sitting in a wheelchair on the hospital roof, looking at him from afar. Within those eyes was no worship. Within those eyes… was only a cautious question, and a hint of disbelief.

From afar, no, from across the base, the two locked eyes. No words needed to be said, for in Earl’s steady, emotionless eyes, Nero found his answer.

Instinct drove him to hide his emotions. To contain himself, and study the events leading up to this, trying to figure out why this had happened. He almost needed to dissect the situation to determine where any undetected dangers lay.

Yet Vanessa’s words rang in his ears even now. Not everything needed to be a secret. Not everything needed to be hidden. Sometimes, revealing his thoughts could be more beneficial than controlling them carefully.

While Earl’s eyes remained as steady as a still lake, its depth entirely unmeasurable, a fire lit in Nero’s eyes. This was not his usual, blue flame, but a flame of another kind altogether.

Once again, Nero felt the bitter pang of betrayal, and loss. He had been looking forward to Norman’s growth. He was a good kid, a good…

Nero took a deep breath, and steadied himself as resolve filled his eyes. He turned to leave, his thoughts turning towards Flickering Lantern once more. If he learned that Unity was somehow behind this, he would not let them off.

But first, he needed to recover. In his current, pathetically weak state, Nero could do nothing. For a brief moment, he had felt satisfied with his growth. Now, he felt only impatience.

But Nero did not lose himself in the anger of loss. No, he needed to think, to outline his goal. Did he want to kill all those who wronged him? Destroy all of Kolar? Kill all his enemies and all the curses? What would that do? It was nothing more than a temper tantrum of a child. No, he needed to be more meticulous. .

Revenge, after the fact, was not good enough. He wanted to achieve a state where none even dared to act against him and his people. Yet that goal sounded just as impossible as killing everyone who angered him.

His thoughts were a mess. Nero needed to think, to clear his head, to find his direction. Vanessa had pointed out the flaw in his mentality at a good time. Now, once he locked down his thoughts, his beliefs, he would emerge a whole new person.

His emotions were growing out of his control, yet with incredible determination, he took control of his mind. He calmed himself down. He adhered to the teachings he had followed since childhood. First, he would calm down. Then he would study the situation logically and soundly. Only then would he act.

That night neither Nero, nor Earl slept. Both of them thought of the future they would pursue from that day onwards.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep