Chapter 78 – Within the Walls

  Approaching Novastra

  The survivors whispered among themselves as the shimmer of the barrier came into view. To them, it looked surreal—light bending like a living veil that wrapped the city in protection. Rose slowed, her wide eyes locked on the glow.

  “It looks… like something out of a storybook. This city is mystical and magical,” she breathed. “Not real.”

  Thomas muttered, his voice heavy with disbelief. “It’s real enough. And we’re walking straight into it.”

  Beyond the barrier, Novastra rose in tiers of stone and steel. Its architecture seemed foreign to the survivors—half fantasy, half old-world Europe, but fused with sigils and mana conduits unique to Aetheris. Towers gleamed faintly, their runes pulsing with power. Bridges arched over canals, lamps lit with mana crystals.

  Raven took point, her ears swiveling as she scanned for threats. Arne covered the rear, his rifle cradled loosely in his arms. The humans, exhausted and wary, shuffled between the giants in silence.

  “Keep close,” Raven ordered, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “Once inside, don’t draw attention. This should stay quiet, at least for now.”

  The gates creaked open, admitting them past the watchful eyes of the guards. Patrols moved along the walls, their heavy footfalls echoing across the courtyard.

  The survivors faltered as they entered the guild grounds. The size of the War Rabbit complex alone was staggering—barracks large enough to house dozens of giants, training fields lit with mana lamps, and an entire wing for weapons and engineering.

  “This is… too much,” one of the younger men whispered.

  Arne’s ears twitched as he leaned down with a crooked grin. “You ain’t seen anything yet.”

  But Raven shot him a look that silenced the joke.

  The group headed to the infirmary wing to check on the human survivors' injuries before their guild leader arrived, since the guild grounds were quiet.

  Inside the guild’s infirmary, the humans finally eased into chairs and cots as guild staff hurried to assess them.

  Rhea stepped forward, her soft lavender eyes and calm voice instantly grounding the room. Her cream-colored hair was tied back, her white-gray uniform crisp, her mana staff glowing faintly with stabilizing sigils.

  “Easy now,” she said gently. “You’re safe here. Breathe.”

  Her presence quieted the panic; even Rose’s trembling hands stilled slightly as Rhea laid a sigil across her arm to ease the tension.

  Miss Hopps arrived moments later, her red hair and sharp eyes betraying both authority and irritation. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she took in the scene. “More of them,” she muttered. “And with numbers.”

  Ripper followed her in, arms crossed, his scarred face unreadable. “Not fighters, I see,” he observed after a long silence. “But they lived to tell the tale. That’s worth noting.”

  Raven gave her report, each detail measured: Shelter 31. Lost numbers. Harsh flight through the wilds. Abilities surfacing.

  Hopps’ expression soured further. “Different shelters, different memories, the same markings. This isn’t a chance. It’s systematic.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Thomas sat stiffly on his cot. “We don’t know who we were before. Only names. And… things we can do.”

  Hopps narrowed her eyes. “Show me.”

  Reluctantly, Rose extended her hand. A nail tray on a nearby counter quivered, sliding toward her before clattering back down. “It doesn’t always work,” she whispered.

  Another survivor described bursts of strength. One mentioned heightened senses. Thomas admitted he could sometimes store small objects in “pockets” that vanished and reappeared, though unreliably.

  Hopps folded her arms, noting they are not using sigils or any form of magic ability. The humans haven't fully grasped their magical skills. Seven can create glitch jagged sigils to enhance his body, but might be more tied to his natural abilities. "Endowed with remarkable abilities but lacking proper training, they find themselves on the brink of survival. These are not seasoned fighters; they are everyday people thrust into extraordinary circumstances."

  Rhea, quietly observing, finally spoke. Her tone was gentle but firm. “They’ve been through so much. If you’re looking for answers, remember that patience is key. Pushing them too hard will only cause more harm.”

  Hopps’ ears twitched, but she said nothing.

  When the survivors asked about others like them, Hopps’ reply was clipped. "There's an intriguing anomaly within the guild at the moment. He's in the process of adapting to his surroundings. For now, there's no need to be concerned about him."

  Arne shifted uncomfortably. Raven glanced down, remembering Seven’s desperate fight when they’d first found him.

  The survivors didn’t miss the name whispered in the infirmary, as they are not the only ones with numbers on their collars: Seven.

  Rose’s eyes widened. “So there are more.”

  Hopps’ tone sharpened. "That's it—no more needs to be said. The details are for the council to handle."

  When they pressed, she raised her voice. “You are alive because of the guild. That’s all that matters tonight.”

  The infirmary quieted under her command.

  Outside in the hallway, Raven adjusted her crossbow strap, her jaw tight. “We can’t keep this from Seven forever.”

  Arne rubbed the back of his neck, his usual grin absent. “Yeah. But Hopps will. At least until the council has its say.”

  Ripper’s voice carried from inside the infirmary: “Tomorrow morning, the council decides.”

  Miss Hopps’ voice followed, sharper still. “Then may the factions tear themselves apart. But tonight, we keep the city calm.”

  Raven and Arne exchanged a look. Both knew calm was the last thing coming.

  Raven faced the survivors one last time in the infirmary, her tone clipped but clear. “You’re not prisoners. But you are to remain here, under supervision. Don’t wander. Rhea and her staff will provide food, treatment, and whatever comfort they can. That’s more than you’d get anywhere else.”

  Her bluntness made a few of the humans flinch, but Rhea quickly stepped forward, her presence softening the edges. “What she means,” the healer explained gently, “is that this city is… cautious. Isolated. Its people don’t trust easily. Not even the Guild is truly part of it—we operate with our own autonomy, by agreement. But you are safe here. Safer than you’ve been in a long time.”

  Rose’s shoulders sagged with relief. Another survivor whispered what the others were thinking: “So we’re not being sold, or… worse?”

  Rhea shook her head, her lavender eyes steady. “No. That isn’t what we do here.”

  Arne leaned against the wall, arms folded, his ears twitching as he spoke with disarming casualness. “Don’t mistake it, though. Gratitude’s fine, but this world doesn’t run on kindness. It runs on survival. Behind walls or not, nothing here is free. The sooner you get that, the easier it’ll be to breathe.”

  The survivors exchanged uneasy looks. Yet beneath the fear, some spark of gratitude—and trust—finally settled in their expressions.

  The Briefing Room

  In the Guild’s briefing chamber, Lola was already there, attentively going over her notes with a focused energy. “I’ve just informed the peace faction,” she said, her tone brisk yet buoyant. “They’re eager for a debriefing tomorrow morning.”

  Arne settled into a chair with a sigh, muttering about the complexities of council procedures.

  Raven, undeterred, turned her attention fully to Lola. “What’s the status on the perimeter?”

  “It's reinforced,” Lola confirmed confidently. “No one is getting in or out without proper approval. However, the word is spreading. Staff have seen the humans in the infirmary, and the gossip is swirling quickly.”

  Raven’s expression grew serious. “We’re running out of time. If the war faction learns about this before we have a chance to shape the story...” Her voice trailed off, the weight of her words clear.

  Arne leaned in, an unusual gravity in his voice. “What about Seven? He will inevitably find out, and we need to be prepared for his reaction.”

  Lola paused thoughtfully, then affirmed, “A containment plan is essential—not only for the survivors but also for the information.”

  Raven stood up, determination in her stance. “Let's get to work on this before dawn.”

  Far from the heavy talk of the council, Seven stretched out in the Den of a Thousand Tails barracks, the glow of his neck marking pulsing faintly in the low light. Around him, the night routine of the War Rabbits unfolded—armor being unstrapped, gear checked and cleaned, quiet voices drifting across the long hall.

  Fluffy sat cross-legged on her bed, polishing her twin swords with practiced ease, a half-eaten carrot between her teeth. Her golden curls bounced as she looked up. “At least today didn’t end in disaster,” she chirped. “No monsters, no walls shaking, no Flare Crest yelling at us.”

  Seven gave a tired chuckle. “Just another day of training.” His eyes lingered on her blades. “You ever think about getting different swords? Everyone else has enchanted weapons, tech upgrades… and you’ve just got steel.”

  Fluffy grinned, tilting the blades to catch the lantern light. “Steel that hasn’t failed me once. Besides, these aren’t just swords. This one’s Nibble.” She tapped the first, then raised the second with a playful wink. “And this one’s Crunch.”

  Seven arched a brow. “You named them?”

  “Of course!” she said, mock-offended. “They’ve been with me longer than half the guild recruits. Someday, sure, I’ll find something shinier, maybe even legendary. But until then—Nibble and Crunch are mine.”

  Her carefree confidence tugged a small smile from Seven as he lay back on his bunk.

  But when the barracks quieted, his thoughts slipped elsewhere. His reflection caught in the window—the faint light of the number carved into his skin. It pulsed like a heartbeat, a reminder that no matter how far he’d come, his future was still uncertain.

  What did life in this city truly mean for him? Was he a recruit, a weapon, or something else entirely?

  Sleep eventually claimed him, but the questions lingered like shadows in the silence.