Aedran walked through the underground corridors, unsure whether what Kaeldric had told him even made sense. As they descended through the levels, the walls changed in material: carved stone gave way to metal beams and concrete. It was far easier to build a solid structure that way than to stack blocks of rock.

  Lyara looked from side to side. It was her first time setting foot in this place, and she was practically bouncing with excitement. Aedran watched her with mild curiosity as signs and various rooms slid past them.

  “Why are you so excited?” the lieutenant asked, scratching his head.

  Lyara turned to him with a small smile.

  “Well, only soldiers of the highest ranks are allowed access to the underground levels. And whatever they do down here, I’m excited just to know about it,” she explained, walking backward as she spoke. “Besides, why does it bother you so much that they’re forming a magical anti-terrorism division? It’s not that different from what you were doing before.”

  “Honestly, I’d rather keep chasing drug traffickers… or mercenaries, or go after the P.A.R.T.Y. pirates,” Aedran began. “A new division means tons of paperwork, training idiot recruits, and turning in weekly reports. Being useful but a terrible soldier was supposed to spare me from all that.”

  Lyara laughed softly before turning around and continuing on. Aedran remembered what it was like at that age and understood. Still brimming with energy… Then he realized he was thinking like an old man and shook his head to clear it.

  “Hey, Kaeldric, be honest with me,” Aedran said. Kaeldric turned toward him. “Did you find a way to give mages cancer? Because if not, I don’t see how you expect us to beat them.”

  They reached a steel door. Lyara glanced to the side—the corridor continued for several more meters, and she wondered what kind of facilities lay beyond. She only knew that the deeper one went, the more dangerous and experimental everything became.

  Kaeldric knocked on the door in a specific pattern. It opened immediately, and a guard allowed them through with a slight bow.

  They stepped inside. It was an enormous chamber, roughly ten meters high and covering an area of about three hundred square meters, divided into two levels. Lyara noticed men and women moving back and forth, dressed in white robes that reached the floor. They reminded her of physicians, though she couldn’t understand why they were dressed that way.

  Each of them handled fragments of metal or scribbled notes at a rapid pace. Lyara instantly recognized the greenish gleam when a light briefly illuminated one of the groups.

  “Are they working with Camellium?” she asked aloud without realizing it.

  Aedran turned around. He had sensed the Camellium through his marks, but only now did he realize that almost everyone present was using it in some form.

  “Interesting,” Aedran murmured.

  They climbed onto a platform where a solitary man stood, muttering to himself as he took notes. Aedran immediately thought he looked like a weirdo. Then he noticed the table: a tangled mass of metal with no apparent shape lay strewn across it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man pick up a shard of Camellium crystal with his bare hands. Though he wore gloves to protect his skin, the act still seemed reckless.

  Kaeldric stepped closer to speak to him, but the man raised a hand and stopped him short without taking his eyes off his work.

  “I’m working. Wait until I’m done,” he said flatly.

  Aedran smiled as he saw Kaeldric clench his jaw and fall silent. Lyara edged a little closer to the general.

  “Why is he working alone?” the novice asked.

  “Because he’s a weirdo?” Aedran added with amusement.

  The man didn’t even flinch.

  “Because this is a dangerous section,” Kaeldric replied, shooting Aedran a wary look at the comment. “Anything in this area could explode, so they work individually.”

  “And what exactly are you trying to do down here?” Aedran asked, now more serious. “I wouldn’t expect to see this much Camellium when our mission is to eradicate mages.”

  “It’s a gamble,” Kaeldric said, scratching his head. “Humanity, without mages or sentinels, would be at the mercy of the other races—especially the Dunari, who seek resources, and the druids, who despise us. But if we manage to integrate magic without the need for a mage, we might be able to defend ourselves.”

  “Is that even possible?” Aedran was completely lost.

  “As far as we know, yes. It’s possible, though for now it remains a hypothesis,” Kaeldric continued, noticing his doubtful expression. “For your information, we believe it can be achieved through seal magic.”

  “The kind that requires a mage to write the seals in order to activate Camellium’s effects?” Aedran raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Then he immediately remembered that if an outsider activated the seal, its effects could be forcibly triggered. “So… how do you activate them?”

  The scientist sighed from his station, never pausing in his careful manipulation of what looked like cables threaded through a half-assembled piece of armor.

  “Surprisingly, we don’t activate them the way a mage does,” he replied calmly.

  Aedran frowned. Lyara leaned in slightly.

  “Seals are a linkage,” the scientist continued, adjusting a thin conduit that pulsed faintly with blue light. “They connect a mage’s internal Camellium reserves to engraved channels that distribute the energy. The seal itself doesn’t care who the source is—it only recognizes the flow.”

  Aedran’s expression sharpened.

  “We replicated the second half of that equation,” the scientist said. “These conduits carry refined camellic energy directly into the armor’s channels. As long as the current is stable, the system interprets it as a valid source.”

  Lyara’s brow furrowed. “So… no mage is needed?”

  “No mage is needed to activate it,” the scientist corrected. “Only energy.”

  Silence settled over the room as the faint hum of circulating camellic current filled the space.

  Lyara wrapped her arms around herself—not from fear this time, but from the unsettling realization of what this meant.

  Aedran shrugged and began pacing in slow circles as they waited. Kaeldric sighed and leaned against the wall, while Lyara tried to peer over the scientist’s shoulder to see exactly what he was doing on the table.

  Then, without warning, an explosion shook one side of the chamber. Only then did the man come to a dead stop and look up, with weariness rather than surprise. Lyara jumped back and watched cautiously.

  From the smoke emerged a young woman climbing the stairs, coughing as she went. She looked to be around twenty-one. She wore an overall tied around her waist and a poorly buttoned shirt that emphasized her cleavage while also giving her a slightly disheveled appearance.

  Her face was smeared with soot, contrasting with lightly freckled skin, and her red and wavy hair was pulled into an improvised ponytail. When she looked up and met Aedran’s gaze, her expression shifted to surprise; when she noticed Kaeldric, she blushed faintly and straightened at once.

  “Uh… I think that prototype failed again,” she said, trying to sound confident.

  The scientist sighed and returned his attention to his work.

  “Like every prototype you work on.”

  “It’s not my fault my ideas are so revolutionary…”

  “If by revolutionary you mean blowing us all to pieces,” Aedran added with pointed sarcasm.

  The woman met his gaze with amusement.

  “You’re Aedran, right?” she asked. The warrior nodded. “I knew it. Those red eyes can only belong to a Gramorgian. And the white hair… honestly, I don’t think there’s anyone here who wouldn’t recognize you.”

  She glanced at Lyara for a moment and then ignored her completely. Continuing on, she carefully avoided looking at Kaeldric as she grabbed a rag from the table beside the man in the lab coat and began wiping her face as best she could.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Aedran stepped a little closer, and the woman looked up, her discomfort growing.

  “I’m curious,” Aedran began, positioning himself beside her while staring directly at an open display case. “Is that what I think it is?”

  He pointed inside. Lyara peeked out of the corner of her eye and her eyes widened when she recognized what she was seeing: a completely black spear, traced with thin blue veins that glowed like torches. Its jagged, irregular shape was hypnotic.

  “Yup,” she replied casually, setting the rag down on the table, though soot still streaked her face. “It’s a sentinel’s spear.”

  “I thought all sentinel weapons had been destroyed,” Lyara said, startled.

  “In theory, yes. But we found this one among the rubble of an ancient temple ten years ago. And it’s not as impressive as it looks.”

  The young woman picked up a chunk of wood they were using as a paperweight and hurled it at the spear. A beam burst from its veins, pulverizing the wood in a blinding flash of light.

  “Only a sentinel can wield it.”

  “And how did you get it here?” Aedran asked warily.

  “Well, blackstone can withstand the weapon’s energy field, so we use very long tongs to move it… and a mage brought it. You know, before the Red Night.”

  She scratched her head and sighed. Aedran shuddered slightly, then pulled himself back to the present.

  The man in the white lab coat finally let the metal drop onto the table and stretched lazily. Aedran could have sworn he heard the man’s spine decompress after so many hours of work. He then turned to the group, who watched him with curiosity. Kaeldric raised an eyebrow as the scientist slicked back his greasy hair and sighed in annoyance at the prospect of having to interact with other people.

  “My name is Edwin Ravenshade. I’m in charge of the new Camellium project,” he said, inspecting his fingernails with complete disinterest. “And I suppose you’ve already met our most volatile member: Lysette Whitlock.”

  The young woman raised her hand, as if she needed confirmation that they were talking about her.

  “You’re here to see—”

  “What’s supposedly capable of defeating a third-tier mage,” Aedran interrupted, his tone unusually serious. Even Lyara, who had known him for only a few hours, was surprised to hear it.

  Edwin raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and picked up the unsightly mass of metal and cables resting on the table. He held it out for Aedran to see. Lyara recognized the shape immediately: it was a suit of armor. However, it looked nothing like the Guard’s uniforms or breastplates. It was a crude, colorless assemblage, made of irregular plates linked by cables of some unfamiliar material, all converging at the center of the chest, where a chamber of dark metal—undoubtedly blackstone—dominated the structure.

  Aedran scratched his head, confused.

  “What exactly is this supposed to be?” he asked bluntly. “Just an ugly suit of armor?”

  Edwin narrowed his eyes and smiled with unmistakable arrogance. He picked up a Camellium crystal, glowing with an almost radioactive intensity, and inserted it into the chest compartment before sealing it shut.

  “You know blackstone nullifies magic, right?” he said. Aedran nodded. “It can also insulate Camellium and channel it wherever we want through these cables, which mimic a mage’s magical pathways.”

  Aedran couldn’t have looked more uncertain as he watched those improvised conduits snake across the different sections of the armor.

  “By using pulverized Camellium and a bit of luck, I managed to carve runes directly into the armor,” Edwin continued. “It’s crude, but it should be capable of granting magic at will to a non-magical individual.”

  Aedran couldn’t comprehend—much less accept—what he was hearing. Using magic without being a mage? It sounded like nonsense, or a childish fantasy. Edwin noticed his expression and, without ceremony, tossed him the armor. Aedran caught it and examined it carefully.

  It was true that blackstone completely isolated the Camellium. In fact, it was impressive that they had managed to shape it into such a precise chamber. That alone must have taken years of planning. Even so, he saw no possible way to protect the wearer if that energy was coursing through those cables.

  “How high is the contamination level?” he finally asked, looking up.

  Edwin scratched his beard.

  “The cables are coated in rubber and imperial gold—the same materials mages use in their artifacts. But…” He paused. “If an ordinary man used this prototype, he could wear it for at most two years before the Camellium poisons him irreversibly.”

  He made no effort to soften the truth. Even Kaeldric took a step back at the words.

  “But we have to test it at least once,” Edwin added. “Everyone knows that Gramorgians—”

  “—have a higher resistance to Camellium? Maybe,” Aedran admitted. “But only slightly. It’s not the exaggeration most people believe.”

  He explained it with visible caution, wary of them overestimating how useful northern blood truly was.

  “Not just that,” Edwin countered. “You’re a survivor of the Red Night. You developed resistance, didn’t you?”

  “And if I’m not careful,” Aedran replied dryly, “I could also end up with five different kinds of cancer… or with a squirrel eating my guts from the inside.”

  “We only need a couple of trials. You won’t be exposed twenty-four hours a day—only at specific moments. If I can confirm it works and that a human body can endure it, I’ll have approval to develop a more refined version.”

  Edwin was growing visibly excited. One could almost see him salivating at the thought.

  “For now, you’ll be using my baby: the MK-1.”

  “Let me guess,” Aedran said wearily. “Approval depends on whether we manage to establish the anti-magic division.”

  Edwin nodded without denying it.

  The Gramorgian frowned. He was genuinely exhausted from everyone expecting something of him.

  “Using magic to kill mages isn’t… contradictory?”

  “Well,” Lysette cut in, “it wouldn’t be just for killing. If we manage to decipher the runic language of seal mages, you have no idea what we could accomplish.”

  Aedran narrowed his eyes and studied the armor more closely. His gaze lingered on the gauntlets: crude, simple runes were etched into the knuckles. He knew that seal mages were born with the language imprinted in their minds; that was why they didn’t need to record it anywhere. Those symbols had to be basic spells, executed without any real understanding of how they worked.

  He could cast a fireball… or he could explode trying.

  Either way, it wasn’t a good idea by any imaginable standard.

  “So I’m just supposed to accept being used as a guinea pig?” Aedran asked with an irritated grimace. “You might as well have asked me to go annoy a celestial instead.”

  “It’s important. This would change everything—but only if we can prove it works,” the scientist insisted. “Humanity could defend itself against the other races, we could fulfill the celestials’ mandate, and—”

  “I don’t care,” Aedran cut him off. The scientist let out a startled groan. “Humanity will rise one way or another. I’m not going to be its lab rat.”

  “Aren’t you being a bit stubborn?” Lysette asked.

  “If they asked you to die for something you don’t even know will work, how would you react?” Lyara shot back, challenging her. Aedran turned, surprised by the defense, then shifted his gaze back to the scientist.

  “I’ll ask again: why would I agree?”

  “Because whether you like it or not, you’ll have to hunt third-tier mages. It’s an order from the Lord, and this is the only way to do it,” the scientist replied bluntly.

  “Hmph. I’d rather die as a warrior than immolate myself with some device—and certainly not because of Camellium.”

  The tension continued to rise. Lyara glanced from one face to another, visibly nervous. Kaeldric cleared his throat and approached Aedran cautiously, resting a hand on his shoulder. Aedran shot him a lethal glare.

  “Consider this,” Kaeldric said. “If there were another Red Night, we could stop it before it’s too late.”

  Aedran narrowed his eyes and clenched the metal shell of the armor. Lyara could have sworn she heard his teeth grind before he turned away and stormed off, carrying the armor in a fit of anger.

  “Is that a yes?” Edwin asked, clearly at a loss.

  “I think that was a ‘go to hell, idiots,’” Lyara joked with a restrained smile.

  Kaeldric sighed and looked at Edwin.

  “It’s an ‘I’ll think about it.’”

  Lyara and Kaeldric headed up to the upper floors. Aedran, on the other hand, had decided to leave; they were told he had gone to the operations building. Finding him wasn’t difficult—he stood perfectly still, reading the plaque outside a meeting room.

  Lyara approached cautiously, unsure of what to say.

  How are you? No, he’d mock me for being cliché. Cheer up? Even worse—he’d think I’m an idiot… She pressed her fingers to her chin and closed her eyes for a moment to focus. That was when she noticed the sign above the door:

  “Magical Anti-Terrorism Division,” abbreviated as MAD.

  Lyara froze. She hadn’t realized it, but they had arrived at the team’s office. Aedran must have come looking for her. Even Kaeldric glanced at him warily.

  Aedran turned to face them. Instantly, he frowned when he noticed Lysette walking behind them, her spirits clearly crushed.

  “What’s the mechanic doing here?” he asked, confused. He sounded calmer, though Lyara could still hear the disdain in every syllable.

  Lysette looked up, on the verge of tears.

  “Well…” Lyara began.

  “Oh, and take Lysette with you. She causes too much damage and will be more useful with you handling the armor than getting in the way in the lab. That’s what he said,” Lyara finally explained, leaving out how the girl had practically dropped to her knees begging to stay.

  “I can’t believe this! I’m the best engineer in that place, and that idiot just threw me out. What does it matter if I caused two or three explosions? It was for the sake of revolutionizing humanity! How can a scientist not understand that?” Lysette complained loudly before collapsing to her knees in defeat.

  Aedran looked up. Kaeldric covered his face in obvious irritation, while Lyara tried to comfort Lysette with a pitying smile.

  “Great… looks like my backup is going to be dead weight,” Aedran muttered, turning to open the door.

  Kaeldric stopped him.

  “Before you go in, you should know something: you’ll have recruits.”

  “Obviously. They’re waiting inside, right? If they’re forcing me into this stupidity, I at least expect an army. But I suppose I can manage with fifteen or twenty recruits.”

  “Well… they’re a bit peculiar,” Kaeldric said, trying to sound reassuring. He failed—his perpetually stern expression undermined any attempt at calm.

  “I’ll just get rid of the ones who’ll die on the first mission. They can’t be worse than the useless mechanic.”

  “HEY!”

  Aedran sighed and ignored Kaeldric. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The interior was a hall the size of a house, packed with rows of seats and weapons within arm’s reach. Aedran scanned the room; his sarcasm grew as he confirmed that every single seat was empty.

  Row after row. Until, at the very front, he saw only four people. He assessed them in an instant.

  A short-haired black-haired girl, curled into a fetal position, trying to hide her face. She couldn’t have been taller than five feet or older than twenty. A trembling man, darting glances around the room in sheer nervousness.

  Aedran nearly considered jumping out the window. At least the other two were interesting.

  A horned man with pointed ears and greenish fur around his arms, absentmindedly playing with a white fox pup sitting on his lap: a Drynari, a druid. And a tall, broad-shouldered woman with slanted eyes and pale skin marked by scars. Her completely blue eyes emitted a strange smoke that drifted toward the ceiling—a Kenary. She looked profoundly bored.

  “Counting Lyara… that makes five,” Aedran said.

  Everyone in the room turned to look at him.

  Kaeldric stepped closer, wearing an expression somewhere between concern and something Aedran recognized, to his surprise, as the first smile he’d seen from him all year.

  “Five damn recruits for an entire division? What the hell, Kaeldric?”

  “Well…” Kaeldric began seriously, meeting his gaze head-on. “No one wants to work with you.”

  End of chapter.