OBLIVION HEADQUARTERS — AFTER WETRA DEPARTED FOR TERUKH HILL

  The Oblivion headquarters door closed behind them.

  Not with a loud sound—

  but enough to make Graham realize:

  whatever happened next, he could only wait.

  The main hall slowly emptied.

  The elites who had filled the room earlier had departed.

  Footsteps faded one by one, until only echoes and the smell of iron remained. The torches stayed lit. The walls remained solid. The headquarters did not change.

  Graham stood in his place.

  Terukh Hill.

  The name kept spinning in his head.

  He didn’t know what was happening there. Didn’t know who they were facing. What he knew was only one thing—

  Uncle Kael was there.

  “Alice…” his voice came out softly.

  “They said we’re not allowed to help Uncle.”

  Alice stood beside him.

  She didn’t answer right away.

  “Why could they get there so fast,” Graham continued, his tone trembling,

  “but to our district—”

  The sentence stopped.

  He didn’t finish it.

  There was no need.

  Alice gripped his hand tighter.

  “I know,” she said softly. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

  Graham looked down. The wool bracelet on his wrist felt heavier than usual.

  The day was still morning.

  But it already felt like it had gone on too far.

  They sat on the wooden bench near the wall. The soup in Graham’s bowl had stopped steaming. He stirred it slowly, but didn’t eat.

  The atmosphere in the headquarters changed.

  Not panic—

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  more like restrained tension.

  People walked faster than usual, speaking in low voices. Every time the large door opened, Graham reflexively turned his head, hoping to see Kael enter while laughing like always.

  But whoever came was always someone else.

  Time passed strangely.

  Sunlight shifted in through the high windows, forming long lines on the stone floor. Morning disappeared just like that. Afternoon arrived unnoticed.

  For Graham, everything felt fast.

  Too fast.

  He stood, walked to the window, stared at the outer courtyard—then sat back down. He did it again, unconsciously.

  Alice watched him for a long time.

  “Graham…”

  Her voice was soft. Slightly hesitant, as if unsure whether she was allowed to interrupt.

  “Hey.”

  Graham didn’t answer.

  His gaze remained fixed on the stone floor. His jaw clenched.

  Tears were held back at the corners of his eyes, but they didn’t fall.

  He held his left arm. There was a faint pulse—appearing then disappearing. Not painful. But enough to disturb.

  Joeline passed by carrying a scroll of documents.

  Her face remained calm, but her steps were faster than before.

  “Sorry,” Alice said spontaneously, almost whispering. “Is… there any news yet?”

  Joeline paused for a moment. A thin smile appeared—neat, practiced.

  “Not yet,” she replied. “All we can do is wait.”

  Then, after a short pause:

  “I’m sure they’ll return safely.”

  She continued walking, disappearing down the side corridor.

  Graham stared at her back for a long time.

  “Why does everyone look so prepared?” he muttered.

  “Like… this isn’t the first time.”

  Alice didn’t answer.

  Because inside her, she felt the same thing—that whatever happened today had happened before. And it never ended well.

  Afternoon shifted toward evening.

  The air inside the headquarters felt heavier.

  Graham swallowed.

  His chest tightened for no clear reason.

  Then the feeling came.

  Not a sound.

  Not a vibration.

  Like a gentle pull from inside his chest.

  “Alice,” he said quickly, almost whispering.

  “I feel strange.”

  “Strange how?”

  “Like… this is wrong,” Graham replied.

  “Today is wrong.”

  He clenched his fist.

  “This isn’t just a fire. Not a small attack. If it was only that, they wouldn’t have sent everyone just now.”

  He didn’t know what happened at Terukh Hill.

  Didn’t know the enemy’s name.

  Didn’t know its form.

  But he knew one thing—

  this wasn’t an ordinary disaster.

  Alice moved closer, placing her hand on Graham’s shoulder.

  “We wait,” she said softly. “That’s all we can do right now.”

  Graham nodded.

  But deep inside him, something had already begun to move.

  Slowly.

  Almost imperceptibly.

  That day taught him one thing—

  that waiting can also hurt.

  And without him realizing it,

  that day was the beginning of something

  he could not stop.

  Time did not answer him. It only moved on.

  Night arrived.

  Cold. Silent.

  Even though they were inside a room that should have been warm.

  Sudden commotion broke out outside the headquarters. Oblivion members rushed out in groups, welcoming those returning from battle.

  Not good news.

  Not bad news.

  They returned heavily wounded. Dried blood soaked their black robes. Pale faces, sunken eyes, staggering steps—exhaustion that could not be hidden.

  Graham stepped outside, but stopped at the threshold of the Oblivion headquarters door.

  Several other Oblivion members stood frozen in place.

  Some immediately turned their faces away. Others clenched their fists until their knuckles turned white. Someone removed their helmet and lowered their head, breathing heavily—as if the smell of blood in the air was too thick to inhale.

  There were no cheers.

  No words of congratulations.

  Only an awkward, heavy silence.

  A medic rushed forward in a hurry, carrying an extra stretcher. Bandages were spread across the stone floor. Blood dripped down, leaving dark trails that slowly began to dry.

  Some of those who had returned from Terukh Hill exchanged brief glances. No one spoke. Their eyes said enough—

  It wasn’t defeat. But it wasn’t victory either.

  These were merely the remnants of those who had managed to come back.

  Someone whispered softly, almost inaudible,

  “Still alive… that’s all.”

  The words hung in the air. No one denied them. No one affirmed them.

  And for Graham, those words felt heavier than any scream.

  The people he thought were strong were now almost powerless.

  Then Graham searched for one person.

  Kael.

  Being carried by two Oblivion members, barely able to walk. His left arm wrapped in thick bandages.

  His face full of wounds.

  The clothes he usually wore were nearly destroyed beyond recognition.

  Alice instantly couldn’t bear to see their condition. She grabbed Graham’s rigid hand, crying behind his back.

  Graham could only stand silent.

  He said nothing.

  He couldn’t.

  Tears welled up again, held back hard behind his eyelids.

  The pulse in his left arm felt even stronger.

  A cold sensation spread through his body.

  Kael lifted his face slightly. His eyes caught Graham’s figure.

  He smiled—weakly.

  “Hey,” he said hoarsely.

  “Don’t make that face.”

  Graham remained silent.

  Kael let out a short sigh.

  “Uncle… is fine.”

  His hand that could still move a little lifted slightly, as if wanting to greet Graham.

  And for the first time since the district was destroyed,

  Graham realized—

  surviving

  does not always mean being whole.