The air between them hadn’t settled yet.

  Rafael was still holding him by the collar.

  "You’re chasing, too?"

  The words caused an unknown expression in Rafael's eyes.

  The words chasing snapped Rafael back to his senses. He realized he was bullying a fifteen-year-old out of sheer insecurity. He let go of the collar abruptly, stepping back as the tension dissipated.

  A long silence followed, then Rafael began to laugh.

  It wasn't his usual arrogant snicker; it was a loud, genuine roar of amusement.

  To an ordinary person, the laughter would have made no sense, but Theo understood.

  He joined in, his lighter laughter harmonizing with Rafael’s.

  When the laughter died down, Rafael reached out and ruffled Theo’s dark hair, his hand lingering on the boy's head.

  "You’re a fun person, kid."

  "Well, that’s just how we are, isn't it, Senior?" Theo replied.

  "Yeah," Rafael nodded, his gaze turning back to the sky. "I guess it is."

  [SOME DAYS LATER]

  The scene opens in a dimly lit, high-security chamber.

  Mitsuo sat behind his desk, the only light coming from the holographic monitors reflecting in his cold eyes.

  He stared at a decrypted file for a long moment before leaning back.

  "So," he whispered to the empty room, "that’s how you want to play it."

  Across the base, the Wrappers quarters were unusually peaceful.

  Aoi, now fully integrated into the team, was hunched over a stack of blueprints and dossiers, trying to bridge the gap in her knowledge of the facility.

  The quiet was shattered when Haether burst through the doors with her usual lack of a volume dial.

  "CASSEY! AOI! What are you two doing sitting around?!"

  Aoi and Cassey scrambled to their feet, faces turning beet-red as they lunged for Haether, clamping their hands over her mouth before she could wake the dead.

  Harry, who was midway through a delicate chemical formula, let out a sharp, irritated "Tch" but didn't look up.

  Aether didn't even flinch; his headset was on, and he was lost in a digital world.

  Steve remained motionless on the couch, a handkerchief draped over his face, while Sera and Lilith were nowhere to be seen.

  Velvet slipped in behind Haether, offering a shy wave.

  Once they finally let go of Haether’s mouth, the Phoenix girl huffed, rubbing her jaw.

  "What was that for?!"

  "You're seriously asking that?" Cassey snapped, gesturing to the silent room.

  The bickering was cut short when the heavy double doors swung open again.

  Lilith and Sera stepped in, their expressions uncharacteristically grim.

  "Everyone, listen up," Lilith announced. "It’s finally that time of the year."

  Steve, who looked like he had been dead to the world, sat up instantly and tossed the handkerchief aside.

  "Geez," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Trouble never stays away for long, does it?"

  Aether pulled off his headset, and Harry finally set down his pen.

  Aoi, lost in the sudden shift of energy, looked around the room.

  "What 'time of the year'? What are you all talking about?"

  "You don't know?" Haether interrupted, her eyes sparkling. "It’s common knowledge!"

  Lilith walked over to Aoi, her tail flicking with a mix of excitement and nerves.

  "I'll explain. To normal cadets, it’s just a celebration—a freshers' party. But to the four elite units, it’s much more than that."

  "It’s a showcase," Sera added, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade. "A time to prove our strength and display our achievements before the entire military command."

  Cassey leaned against a table.

  "On paper, the four units are equal. But on the ground, things are different. There’s an informal ranking system in this base. Status, resources, and even food quality are decided by where you stand."

  "And we were second to last last year, weren't we?" Aether noted with a careless shrug.

  Lilith shot him a sharp look.

  "Which is exactly why we need to be better this year."

  "Wait," Aoi said, trying to piece the hierarchy together. "If we’re second to last, who are the top two?"

  Harry sighed, finally looking at her.

  "Don't you read anything, idiot? The Blazers are the top dogs—undisputed rank one. They’re followed by the Feathers. Then there's us, the Wrappers. And at the very bottom are the Divers."

  Haether puffed out her chest proudly.

  "That’s right! That’s why we’re the real elites!"

  "Only until this year," Cassey shot back.

  Haether bristled, pointing a finger at her.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "Oh, don't worry! We’ll beat you again. We have Eagle Arthur, after all. He doesn't lose!"

  Aoi recognized the name—the leader of the Feathers she had heard mentioned before.

  She also finally understood why Rafael and the Blazers carried themselves with such insufferable arrogance.

  They weren't just soldiers; they were the kings of the base.

  "The opening gala is this evening," Lilith concluded. "The ranking battles begin in three days. Be ready."

  Everyone nodded solemnly.

  Haether gave a final, confident smirk before waving goodbye to head back to the Feathers' quarters.

  The room was silent again, but the peace was gone, replaced by the electric hum of an approaching storm.

  The party hall was a strange marriage of eras—ornate, European-style chandeliers and gold-leaf molding clashed with the high-tech modern uniforms of the soldiers within.

  High on the second-floor balcony, Colonel Z stood like a king overlooking his court.

  Beside him stood a woman whose appearance commanded immediate respect.

  It was Lieutenant Rose, though her presence tonight was different.

  Her pearl-blonde hair fell in long, elegant waves, and her honey-gold eyes held a naturally soft expression that belied the iron-willed commander the soldiers knew.

  Her movements were gracious and fluid, yet every veteran in the room knew she was the last person they would ever want to face as an enemy.

  On the main floor, Mitsuo was making a spectacle of himself.

  Far from the dignified posture of the other officers, he was surrounded by a swarm of newly joined freshers who had just gained eligibility for the gala.

  He was fully immersed in his own fantasies of grandeur, performing "cheap tricks"—flashy, arrogant displays of his power—to draw gasps of awe.

  Several of the younger female freshers clung to him, mesmerized by his smirks and the sheer confidence he radiated.

  He basked in the attention, showing off like a king among peasants.

  The air suddenly hummed as the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers.

  "The Semi-Elite Unit, Cavalry, has arrived!"

  The doors swung open, and a battalion of human and inhuman soldiers marched in.

  They moved with a mechanical, flawless coordination that spoke of absolute discipline.

  They were the precise, moving heart of the infantry.

  "The Elite Units are coming!" the announcer continued. "Starting with the Blazers!"

  The room went quiet as the six Blazers entered.

  Led by a bored-looking Rafael, they moved with zero decorum—leaning against walls, hands in pockets, looking more like a gang of dangerous criminals than military legends.

  "Feathers!"

  The shift was immediate.

  All eight members of the Feathers entered with a divine elegance that screamed "Elite."

  At the front was Eagle Arthur.

  His silver hair and eyes were so radiant he looked like an angel descended from heaven.

  Behind him, four members walked like knights of old, followed by the final three—including Haether, who maintained a stoic, ethereal grace that matched her kin.

  "Wrappers!"

  The seven Wrappers entered the hall together.

  Unlike the others, they had no fixed formation; each walked in their own distinct way.

  Aoi and the tentacle-user Cassey walked alongside the rest, their group appearing so diverse and disjointed that an ordinary person might doubt their elite status.

  Yet, no one in the hall questioned them—everyone knew that this band of misfits worked with a terrifying, synchronized efficiency on the battlefield.

  Claire was notably absent; as Mitsuo’s personal shadow, she had no place in the formal elite procession.

  "Divers!"

  Finally, a group of nine tough-looking veterans entered.

  They were a rugged, intimidating force, but one man in the back stood out.

  His body looked frail and weak compared to the giants beside him, but his presence alone ensured that no one dared to whisper a word of doubt.

  Colonel Z stepped to the edge of the balcony, the applause dying down as he began to speak.

  His voice was firm and composed, the voice of a leader who had seen a thousand wars.

  "We are gathered here to celebrate another year of our hard-core stance against the demonic tide," the Colonel began.

  "I congratulate each of you—from the Elites to the Semi-Elites, down to our newest freshers. You have survived, and that is a victory."

  His gaze swept over the crowd, lingering for a fraction of a second on Theo, who stood among the freshers.

  "I have high hopes for our new recruits; I expect you to climb the ranks and challenge the elites soon."

  "To our Elite units, I wish you the strength to thrive and grow stronger."

  "To the Semi-Elites, act as the bridge that helps our freshers overcome the gap of strength. I wish you all the best."

  As the Colonel concluded, the hall erupted in applause.

  Rose, standing beside him, allowed a small, rare hint of a smile to touch her lips as the festivities officially began.

  With the speeches finished, the party is in full swing

  The gala was in full swing, the high-vaulted hall filled with the hum of music and elite chatter.

  Aoi and Cassey were fully indulging in the festivities; as the drinks flowed, their typical military discipline faded, and their parasitic tentacles uncurled, swaying loosely in their drunken haze.

  Near the balcony, Lilith and Steve stood apart from the crowd, their eyes scanning the room with veteran precision.

  "Did you notice that member of the Divers?" Lilith asked, her voice low.

  "Who didn't?" Steve replied, taking a slow sip of his drink.

  "I’d say he shouldn't be underestimated. My experience tells me he’s the most dangerous one in that lot."

  Lilith nodded solemnly.

  "I can feel it too."

  "Hey," Steve added, shifting his gaze. "Did you also notice that Eagle guy from the Feathers?"

  "Arthur? Yes, what about him?"

  "Be wary of him," Steve warned, his voice dropping an octave. "There’s something unstable behind that angelic face."

  In a quiet corner of the hall, Sera stood alone with a glass of wine, only to be approached by Eagle Arthur.

  With a practiced, charming flourish, he reached for her hand and kissed it.

  Sera immediately pulled back, her expression tightening with distaste.

  Arthur’s "angelic" demeanour shattered instantly.

  He slammed his hand against the wall beside Sera’s head, pinning her in place as he stared into her eyes with an intimidating intensity.

  "You're playing quite hard to get, you know," he hissed.

  Sera remained unfazed, meeting his gaze with a cold smirk.

  "I think I made it quite clear that I’m not interested."

  Arthur snapped.

  "I don't like people who play hard to get!"

  In a sudden fit of rage, he grabbed her wine glass and poured the contents directly over Sera’s face.

  The act of disrespect drew the attention of everyone nearby.

  Aoi, unable to think straight in her drunken state, reacted purely on instinct.

  Her parasitic tentacles surged forward, striking Arthur with enough force to send him flying across the floor until he slammed into the far wall.

  The hall went silent as Lilith and Steve rushed back into the room.

  Arthur scrambled to his feet, his face contorted with fury.

  Enraged by Aoi’s audacity, he lunged at her, his speed so great that Aoi’s tentacles couldn't track him in time.

  His fist was inches from her face when Cassey’s tentacles suddenly snared Aoi, yanking her back at the last second.

  Arthur’s punch whistled through empty air and collided with the stone wall behind her, the impact leaving a jagged web of cracks in the masonry.

  Seeing their leader in a brawl, other members of the Feathers intervened without hesitation.

  Two of them lunged at Aoi and Cassey, but Sera moved like a flash, intercepting one attacker with a sharp blow.

  The second was stopped mid-strike by one of Aether’s drones, which had closed the distance from across the hall with surgical timing.

  Arthur, humiliated and gritting his teeth, took a lethal combat stance along with his subordinates.

  But before the conflict could escalate into a full-scale riot, Rose stepped between the units with a terrifyingly graceful presence.

  "What is going on here?" she asked.

  Her voice was gentle, yet it carried an iron authority that made Arthur click his tongue and look down in shame.

  Rose turned her gaze to Aoi.

  "So, you're the one Mitsuo brought in."

  Aoi stood frozen, her mind a fog of alcohol and shock, unsure how to respond.

  "Don't worry," Rose continued, her warm eyes suddenly turning sharp as she glanced at Arthur.

  "I won't hold you accountable. I saw the whole thing. It was clearly his fault."

  Rose signalled a servant, who brought her a towel.

  She handed it to Sera to wipe the wine from her face, then turned back to Arthur with a mocking smirk.

  "You clearly don't live up to your angelic appearance, Captain of the Feathers."

  Arthur looked at the floor, his knuckles white as he suppressed his rage.

  "Ah, that’s right," Rose cooed, her smile widening.

  "The mock battles start in three days, don't they? Why don't you save your rage for the arena?"

  "You don't need to tell me that!" Arthur barked.

  "Manners, Arthur," Rose replied elegantly.

  "You're already being fined for this chaos. If I were you, I'd think about leaving."

  Humiliated, Arthur turned and stormed out of the hall, his unit following in a silent, tense line.

  Haether, trailing at the back of the group, paused just long enough to shoot Aoi a look of deep apology before vanishing after her team.

  A slow, mocking clap echoed from behind Rose.

  She turned to see Mitsuo laughing, his eyes bright with amusement.

  "I feel like I'm watching a medieval drama, Lieutenant Rose," he teased.

  Rose didn't lose her composure.

  She smiled back, her eyes cold.

  "I'm glad you enjoyed the show, Special Grade Officer Mitsuo."

  Mitsuo smiled.

  Somewhere in the hall, another smile answered it.

  To be continued.....

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