The sound echoed in the narrow alleys stinking of piss and panic. Elisha stared down at Ailan, his face rigid. “Listen!” Elisha hissed, gripping the boy’s shoulders. “We will get Eliana back. But if you run blind, you die and she dies with you. Breathe. Think.”
Ailan’s sobs slowed to ragged gasps, while pressing a hand to his burning cheek. He calmed down with difficulty, the raw agony of his sister’s danger warring with the cold logic of self-preservation. Time was a luxury they did not have.
Elisha took the Jade Box, and handed it to Ailan.
“This is the original item,” Elisha said, his voice flat. “We are not wasting time on a forgery they would instantly see through. We are counting on speed and surprise. You will carry the real piece.”
Ailan swallowed hard, feeling the immense, cold weight of the box.
“You will walk quickly, but don’t rush the exchange. You will only throw the box the instant your sister is free and safe in your hands. We will be following you, protecting you from the shadows. If they try foul play, we respond immediately. Stall them. Lie if you have to. Trust us.”
Ailan swallowed, nodded once, and bolted out of Coronas, heading toward the Woods. He never saw the four orphans melt into the crowd like smoke.
Coronas’ gates swallowed him. The road turned to forest path. Hours blurred — lungs burning, legs screaming, the jade box clutched to his chest like a heart outside his body.
Ailan noticed several groups of adventurers and mercenaries in his surroundings when he entered the Woods, but he did not waste time approaching any of them.
By the time the lake appeared — water shimmering every colour of a dying rainbow — the sun sat almost overhead. One hour left.
The combination of mental and physical exhaustion had taken its toll, clearly a deliberate tactic by his captors.
Heading to the east bank, he noticed two men with grotesque wounds, guarding a woman with curly brown hair whose eyes were covered by a black cloth.
Ailan’s voice cracked the silence.
“Big Sister!”
He stumbled forward, tears already falling.
“Big Sister, are you okay? Have they done anything to you? Forgive me! It’s all my fault! Let her go right now! I’m the one you want, I’ll give you what you asked for, just let her go now!”
“Heh, little rat, you almost got us into big trouble,” sneered the mercenary, missing an ear and part of his nose, his face a mask of furious resentment. “You’re reaping what you sowed. Tell us, who did you tell? Who are your partners?”
Ailan lied instantly. “I didn’t tell anyone! I barely stole the Jade Box, and I was making plans to sell it when you took my sister! I’m sorry, I just saw an opportunity to make a few quick bucks. Don’t hurt her, I beg you, I’ll give you back the Box!” Despite his terror, Ailan knew his only chance was to protect Elisha and the others.
“Liar!” the second mercenary roared, thrusting a knife against Eliana’s neck. “You have partners! Where did you get the guts to confront Boss Sagat?”
The knife edge pressed deeper. Ailan swallowed the terror, deciding he needed a distraction, something big enough to shock them into hesitation. He mixed the lie with the truth.
“It’s true, I didn’t just do it for money. I saw Boss Sagat meet with people from Rhodar. I’m from Karpatia, and I recognised the Chief of the Rhodar military who attacked us years ago! When I saw their agreement, I followed Jackal and took the Box!”
The mercenaries' hair stood on end. Treason. If this rat escaped and told the Ansaran Army about their dealings with the Rhodarian military, they would be hunted for high treason across the world. They exchanged a single, horrified glance and were about to act, no longer concerned with questioning, but with immediate, lethal elimination.
“Open the box,” the knife-man ordered, pressing the blade until a bead of blood pearled on Eliana’s throat.
Ailan’s hands shook so badly the lid rattled. Inside, the pinkish stone lay on black velvet like a heart torn from a dying god.
The mercenaries’ eyes gleamed. They nodded once.
“Throw it,” the earless one said, voice syrupy with false mercy. “We’ll let the girl go.”
Ailan’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Elisha’s words rang like iron bells.
“No. She walks first; otherwise, you might change your mind after I give you the item. Halfway. Then the box.”
A long moment. Then the earless man smiled — all teeth, no warmth.
“Reasonable. See. This is our magnanimity”
They cut the rope at Eliana’s ankles. Shoved her forward.
“Walk straight, little bird. Your brother’s waiting.”
Blindfolded, barefoot, she took tiny, terrified steps across the grass. Each footfall sounded like a countdown.
“Sister… It’s me,” Ailan called, voice cracking in half. “Come to my voice. Almost there…”
When ‘Eliana’ had crossed the midpoint between Sagat's men and Ailan, Ailan told his sister, "Run," and threw the Jade Box toward the mercenaries in a glittering arc.
The girl sprinted, crashed into his arms. He reached for the blindfold with trembling fingers. The cloth fell, and a stranger’s painted smile greeted him.
Before the scream left his throat, her arm twisted his behind his back, joints screaming, and her full weight drove his face into the mud. “Eliana, Eliana… such a devoted little brother,” she purred, breath hot against his ear. “Too bad I’m not her.”
"WHO ARE YOU? YOU TRICKED ME! WHERE IS MY SISTER?" Ailan started shouting, but the girl on top of him, a low-profile Qi Master
"Hehehehe. You really think we were going to give your sister back? Child, you can't seriously be so innocent and stupid. It seems all your skills disappear when your sister is involved," the earless mercenary mocked, walking toward Ailan. They hadn't detected anyone else, so they approached calmly. They planned to make Ailan before the kill.
A child’s voice rang out, sweet and terrible.
Silvestre dropped from the sky like a meteor wrapped in flesh.
His clasped hands glowed with a serpent of white Qi; a sphere of blinding light burned between them. He struck the earth between the mercenaries with the force of a falling temple.
The earless one leapt aside. The second raised crossed arms — still raw from Sagat’s punishment the night before.
CRACK!
Bone became powder. The impact drove shattered forearms into ribs; ribs into lungs. The man folded, coughing red foam, and did not rise.
Silvestre rolled, came up grinning through grass stains.
The fake sister yanked a hidden knife, blade kissing Ailan’s throat. A whisper of wind, a soft voice right next to her ear.
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Nerion was simply there — six years old and already death’s favourite child. He tackled her low, wrapped his arms around her neck, and legs locking her arms to her sides. She bucked like a wild horse, veins bulging, but the boy’s grip was iron forged in hell’s own orphanage. His Level 8 Qi, superior to most adults', shut down her resistance.
Her eyes rolled white. She sagged, unconscious, drool stringing from painted lips.
The mercenary with the missing ear roared with anger, but he didn’t have time to move before another shadow appeared beside him. Lucca appeared nimbly, attempting a kick that the mercenary barely managed to avoid.
At that moment, another voice was heard saying, "I knew it. You were truly in league with that damn thief." Jackal and two reinforcement mercenaries appeared from the surrounding trees, having followed Ailan’s route.
Jackal was surprised. He hadn't detected any of the three children, and in the blink of an eye, they had incapacitated two of his men. he thought, rage overriding fear.
The children stood up, nervous excitement in their countenance. Silvestre and Lucca fixed their attention on the remaining earless mercenary: a Level 14 Qi Master. This was their first real test; Nerion stood nearby as backup.
Jackal was about to let his anger consume him, but he remembered the children weren’t alone. There was a praetorian with them. "QUICKLY, SEPARATE!" he roared at his men, but it was already too late.
Elisha was already between the reinforcements. Two fists. Two temples. Two wet, hollow sounds. Bodies cartwheeled through the air like broken dolls and landed without another twitch. Elisha’s voice was soft, almost gentle, as he looked at his brothers. "Remember what I told you. Fast and Without Mercy."
Nerion and Silvestre had not finished off their opponents. They were still green and certainly not born killers or murderers; as children, they thought that simply incapacitating the enemies would be enough.
But Elisha had been on the frontier for many years, and through pain, sweat, and tears, he learned that mercy for enemies is cruelty towards oneself.
Jackal’s face drained of colour. He remembered wanting to kill this boy’s little brother and servants once. He remembered laughing while doing it, and now the terror tasted like copper. In that lion-maned young face, he saw the call of death itself.
Then, fueled by panic and years of Frontier survival, he circulated all his Qi into his legs, aiming for Nerion. He hit a speed of 170 Km/h, near the maximum speed a Praetorian could normally pull. Nerion was only 45 meters away. Even if Elisha was stronger and faster, he would get there first. A hostage was his only chance at living.
Elisha’s eyes saw red. He remembered Nerion’s broken arms, the danger he went through in a similar situation not long ago, because he couldn’t protect him properly.
Circulating his Qi through his legs and tracing a special circulation on the soles of his feet, his speed shot up instantly—three times that of Jackal, subsonic speed. This was the true might of a Praetorian
This was the very Qi Technique that Elisha himself taught Nerion, and which in the future would make Elisha known throughout the continent when, in the great battles between Territories, he would earn the fame of One Step, One Death, and his enemies would only see a flash before perishing.
But this is a story for much later.
Elisha appeared between Nerion and Jackal, circulating Qi in his right arm, three acupoints flashing vividly. Three serpents of whitish, pure mist extended beyond Elisha's hand, forming three meter-long blades that hummed with hunger.
SLASH!
Jackal flew backwards through the air in a red mist.
He hit the ground sliding, forearms flayed to gleaming bone, chest laid open like a butchered meat. His heart — still beating, still trying — pulsed once, twice, visible to the sky, hungry for a life that was ebbing away.
The remaining mercenary, horrified by Jackal’s end, made a fatal mistake, blindly swinging his sword at Silvestre.
Lucca flicked a handful of lakeside dirt into the man’s face.
Silvestre endured three shallow cuts along his left arm — pain was just another teacher — then stepped inside the sword’s arc and drove his elbow into the sternum with every kilogram of his growing body and every spark of Qi he owned.
CRUNCH!
The chest caved with a wet crunch. The mercenary fell face down, coughing pink froth and pieces of lung into the grass.
Silence fell, broken only by the gentle lap of rainbow water against blood-soaked shore.
Ten seconds. Maybe less. That was the full duration of the combat.
Silvestre and Lucca were a bit fidgety after the bout. But in this world, children, especially in the war-torn Frontier, need to learn how to kill when needed or be killed in return.
Ailan rose slowly from the dirt, staring at the three small boys who had been laughing with him over breakfast yesterday.
Now they stood in a ring of corpses, breathing steady, eyes bright with something ancient and unbreakable.
Something hot and fierce flared behind Ailan’s ribs — the first true ember of hope he had ever been allowed to feel.
He looked at the jade box lying open in the grass, pink stone glinting like a promise.
Then, at the bodies cooling around it.
And he understood:
Some children are born in hell. Others are forged there. And a very few learn to carry the fire out with them. And he wished to be a part of the latter.
Elisha knelt beside the dying man. Jackal’s ruined chest rose in shallow, wet gasps, eyes wide with disbelief. Blood bubbled on his lips. Before the light faded, one last thought crawled through the pain: .
The first mercenary Silvestre attacked was still alive but incapacitated. Elisha interrogated him briefly, using both soft and hard methods, but obtained nothing. The concrete details of the transaction were known only to Sagat and Jackal.
Finally, they woke the mercenary woman who had impersonated Eliana. As soon as she regained consciousness, she tried to bite her tongue. She knew the fate for many women was worse than death when caught by the enemy. However, Elisha quickly extended his hand and clamped her jaw shut.
“You don’t have to die,” he said. “Cooperate, and you walk free when this is over.”
“I’ll never tell you where the hideout is,” she spat, voice trembling. “Kill me instead.”
“We don’t need you for that.” A rasping laugh drifted from the trees.
Mikael appeared between the trees, looking at the mercenary like a wild beast viewing cornered prey. “It's not very far—about fifteen kilometres from here, toward the northwest side of Mount Karol. Though I must admit, had I not followed Jackal this morning, it would have been extremely difficult to find.”
The female mercenary began to tremble uncontrollably. In this old vagabond, she felt a primal terror far superior to anything Sagat had ever made her feel. A TAO Monarch at least, she thought.
She swallowed. “What do you want to know?”
“We want the layout, Sagat's plans, and the timing of the Rhodarian deal,” Mikael demanded.
Roxy exhaled, defeated. “No one knows the whole cave except Sagat. I only know the cell block. Eliana is there — alive. Beside her is a woman of impossible beauty, chained in Star Metal. Sagat’s orders: no one gets within four metres. That woman is the price for the Rhodarians. Deal happens today or tomorrow at the latest. What we do know is that Sagat will meet the Rhodarians outside the cave first.”
“Big Sister…” Ailan whispered, relief and rage warring on his face.
Mikael and Elisha exchanged a glance — time was bleeding away. They also couldn’t help but wonder who the mysterious woman could be.
“You will help us,” Mikael said. “I am going to create a Qi Mark in your mind. If you betray us, you will die instantly. You cannot resist it, but if you cooperate, it will not hurt you.”
Qi Marks were a cruel tool for war captives and slaves, stripping victims of hope and freedom. Marked individuals were completely subject to their owners. It wasn’t legal to do in Ansara, but in many other Major Territories, they were quite common.
“That is worse than dying. I’d become your slave,” the girl pleaded.
“Here and now,” Mikael said, voice like grinding stone, resonating with solemn power, “I swear by the name of AEON: if I do not release you once you have helped us, may my meridians shatter, my cultivation scatter, and all my wishes rot unfulfilled.”
The air itself seemed to still, as did the mercenary. Swearing by AEON—the Lord of Law, the Substantiator of Balance—was the highest, most unbreakable promise. History was littered with the bizarre corpses of those who broke it.
Her status as a slave would be temporary. She calmed her mind and allowed Mikael to place the Qi Mark.
She opened her eyes, seeing the vast, powerful, yet strangely fragile Qi of the old man. “My name is Roxy. Now we are on the same side. What is your plan?”
“Our plan is simple. You return to the hideout alone. If anyone asks, you will say that Jackal tortured Ailan, and he confessed to having companions with similar stones in the city. Jackal took the opportunity to eliminate them, which is why he didn’t return first. You will then watch Sagat’s movements.”
Mikael then pressed a small black stone into her palm; it pulsed with his very own Qi. “When Sagat leaves to meet the Rhodarians, you will destroy the stone I give you now, and I will feel it. We storm the cave, free the girl, burn the rest. After that, you’re free. We’ll let the Grand Army deal with the aftermath. Anything missing?”
Nerion piped up, innocent and lethal. “Pops, why not just crush them? You’re stronger than Sagat.”
Elisha rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We follow Father’s plan. Caution today buys us tomorrow.”
What he did not say — what only the orphans understood — was that Mikael’s old wounds still bled inside. One full battle could chain him to a bed forever. Better Sagat never learn how fragile the monster in rags truly was.
Without further ado, Roxy stood, brushed grass from her clothes, and walked toward the hidden entrance. The orphans and Mikael followed at a distance, ghosts in the green. Seconds before, Mikael had sent an invisible Qi line towards the other mercenary, his heart stopping for good.
She passed the outer sentries without a word — taciturn Roxy, always alone. No one questioned her. Sagat was notified and called her to the central room.
Inside the central chamber, Sagat waited with Ocelot, his second-in-command. The little man’s Qi flickered, unstable, hungry — on the verge of becoming Centurion.
“Why are you alone?” Sagat’s voice could flay skin.
Roxy met his eye and delivered Mikael’s lie: “Jackal tortured Ailan, and he confessed that he had companions with similar stones in the city. Jackal took the opportunity to eliminate them before they found out about Ailan’s disappearance.” Her voice stayed steady even as cold sweat soaked her back.
Sagat stared a long moment, then nodded once. “Perhaps Jackal isn’t as useless after all. Return to the cells. No mistakes are allowed.”
Roxy bowed and left. Behind her, unseen, the black stone in her pocket pulsed like a second heart.
The first phase of the plan was complete.
The orphans settled into the treeline, patient as wolves.
When the stone shattered, the cave would burn.
And AEON would collect its due.