That night passed like any other.
Kael was carried into the headquarters for further treatment.
Several soldiers lifted him carefully. Their steps were quick but orderly, as if dancing across the metal floor. The iron door closed slowly behind them; its clanging echoed for a moment, then faded into silence.
Before he went in, Kael glanced at Graham and gave a small smile, as if to say:
“Relax, I’m fine.”
Graham and Alice stood outside. They were silent, only their breathing audible.
Graham stared at the door—too long for a boy his age.
“We’ll wait for news,” Alice finally said, her voice soft, almost swallowed by the night’s chill.
“Uncle will be okay… I’m sure of it.”
Graham nodded slightly. He wanted to ask. Wanted to be certain. But the words stuck in his throat.
Days passed, quiet but ordinary, until several weeks later Kael was allowed to go home.
— The Afternoon Before Kael Went Home.
After saying goodbye to Wetra and the others, Wetra glanced at Graham for a moment, then turned her face to Kael and said,
“Get well soon… Kael.”
Kael smiled casually. “I’m not that weak,” he replied with a joke.
Then, Kael along with Alice and Graham left Oblivion Headquarters.
— Kael’s house.
The old wooden door creaked slowly as it opened.
The house was quiet, only the creaking floorboards and the whisper of wind slipping through the open window could be heard.
Kael entered first. His steps were heavy, uneven. He paused for a moment at the threshold, bracing one hand against the wall.
Graham watched him unconsciously. Something stirred in Graham’s chest—a mix of pity and a budding determination.
“I… I want to be like Uncle Kael too. I have to be strong. I don’t want to be weak,” he thought, his eyes fixed on the missing side of Kael’s body, yet still firm.
Kael set his bag on the floor. The hand he had left trembled slightly as he released the strap.
He looked down for a moment, then picked up a few small pieces of wood and lit a small fire in the middle of the house. The flames flickered, casting a warm light that danced across their faces.
“Weird, huh,” he said lightly. “Usually I’d flop down right away.”
His small laugh sounded briefly, then vanished, dissolving into the quiet shadows of the house.
Alice hurried to the kitchen, fetched water, and placed it on the wooden table. No instructions, no words—just natural, attentive movement.
Kael sat on the wooden bench, trying to reach for the glass—his hand stopped in midair, then slowly lowered. He went quiet.
Alice pushed the glass a little closer to him. Kael looked at her for a moment, then smiled.
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“Thanks,” he said.
Graham looked away. His heart gave a small thud. Not from disgust. Not from fear—
but because for the first time, he truly saw the consequences.
Kael stood and walked to the window. Sunset light slipped through the gaps, tracing the missing side of his body, casting long shadows that danced across the wooden floor.
Graham furrowed his brow, clenching his small fists.
“If I don’t start training… if I keep staying weak… I won’t be able to protect anyone,” he thought, his voice so quiet it was almost inaudible even to himself.
“Graham,” Kael said softly, gazing outward.
“Uncle’s fine. Don’t make that face.”
He paused for a moment.
“This is what happens when you’ve fought long enough.”
Graham swallowed hard, swallowing his fear.
Kael continued without turning around.
“All of this… happens because someone chose to fight, and someone else paid the price.”
No reply. Night fell just like that. And in Graham’s chest, something small and quiet began to grow—nameless, yet full of promise.
A little while later, Kael turned toward them.
“Have you eaten?”
Alice answered quickly, sitting near the small fire in the house.
“We already did, earlier.”
Kael smiled faintly, a bit relieved.
“Oh, I see… the Oblivion folks are treating you well, right? Haha.”
Alice smiled as well, feeling warm because Kael was still the same as always.
Graham stayed quiet, but his eyes shone a little—his determination beginning to burn, like a small ember ready to become a flame.
Suddenly he spoke, firmly:
“I WANT TO JOIN OBLIVION.”
Alice and Kael were surprised, silent for a moment.
Kael smiled faintly again.
“Fighting the Abyss isn’t easy. Life and death can hang on a thin thread.”
Graham swallowed his fear, took a deep breath, then looked at Kael with full resolve.
“If you really want to join, prepare yourself,” Kael said.
Graham nodded, his heart pounding.
“But remember, there’s a selection to measure worthiness… Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Graham answered shortly but firmly.
Alice smiled faintly, watching the two of them talk.
A little while later, Kael asked Alice:
“So where do you want to go later? You could be a servant in a big district, like District 1 or 2.”
Alice looked at Graham, then said without hesitation:
“I want to go wherever Graham goes.”
Graham shifted his gaze to Alice, as if asking why—words didn’t come out.
He realized… even though Alice’s words were simple, there was warmth behind them. Something that made him want to keep moving forward.
Kael was surprised, then understood.
“Yeah… the only person close to her is Graham. Makes sense.”
“I understand,” Kael continued, letting out a soft sigh.
“So tonight, just sleep… you two must be tired after being at Oblivion headquarters.”
Alice and Graham nodded, preparing to sleep.
———
Before closing his eyes, Graham turned to Alice.
“Why do you want to join Oblivion?” Graham asked softly, half turning away.
He hesitated, then added,
“You know… Uncle Kael ended up like this because he fought the Abyss.”
His voice wavered just a little.
“It’s dangerous.”
Alice looked at him, eyes full of determination.
“I know,” she said.
“I want to be strong too…”
Graham smiled faintly, swallowing his breath, his heart trembling.
“I-I understand,” he murmured.
That night passed, quiet yet full of promise.
— Night at Oblivion Headquarters never truly slept.
The corridors lay silent, yet the silence pressed like iron. The faint scent of Aurum fluid lingered, mixed with dried blood and something darker, almost imperceptible—a smell that whispered of decisions made too late, and lives paid in exchange for choices no one wanted to make.
Wetra stood in the briefing chamber, back straight, hands clasped behind him. His eyes scanned the formation of Oblivion members. Their armor reflected the dim light, but their expressions betrayed a quiet tension—some of them barely suppressing the memory of Terukh.
A hesitant voice broke the quiet.
“How… bad was it out there?”
Wetra’s gaze met each pair of eyes, steady, unflinching.
“Terukh isn’t a battlefield,” he said calmly. “It’s a death zone.”
He paused, letting the words settle like smoke.
“The ground collapses beneath you. Fog devours distance. And Bune… Bune was already waiting.”
A few faces tightened. One soldier swallowed hard.
“Bune doesn’t fight like the creatures you’ve trained against,” Wetra continued, voice low, deliberate. “It doesn’t strike the weakest first. It doesn’t rush. It lets you choose.”
“Choose… what?” another asked, voice almost a whisper.
“Who lives,” Wetra replied.
“And who dies.”
A heavy silence followed. Every heartbeat seemed loud. Every breath fragile.
“Every decision we made… was paid for in blood,” Wetra said, jaw tight. “Bune attacks when you hesitate, when you retreat, when the line falters.”
His eyes swept the room, lingering on those who had looked away.
“Not because we were weak,” he said, softer now. “Because we believed we had more time.”
Jeanne spoke next, barely audible.
“And… where did the Abyss itself disappear to?”
Wetra’s eyes darkened.
“It escaped—” He stopped, correcting himself, jaw tightening.
“No. It allowed us to live. And Kael… Kael survived because he chose to fall back when everything else told him to die.”
No one moved. The weight of the statement hung between them, heavy enough to crush resolve.
“If he had stayed… just a moment longer—” He let the sentence die.
They understood without words.
“He lost an arm… and brought back the truth.”
Another voice murmured, trembling.
“What truth?”
“Survival isn’t victory,” Wetra said, his gaze distant, almost haunted. “It’s the price of living while others die.”
The chamber grew colder, the shadows stretching across walls carved with the emblem of Oblivion. There would be more Kaels. More children who would look to Oblivion for strength, without understanding what it costs to hold it.
We don’t protect the world, Wetra thought, voice barely a shadow in his mind.
We prepare those who will be broken by it.
The thought weighed heavier than the memory of Terukh.
“Anyone who chooses Oblivion,” he said, voice cutting through the oppressive silence, “must be ready to lose something… everything, if necessary.”
No one spoke. No one dared.
“Commander Williams will return from Svarga in two days,” he added, sharper, commanding. “Until then… we guard Caelum.”
“Dismissed,” Wetra said.
“YES, SIR!”
The room echoed with the sound of footsteps, armor clanking, and hearts thudding.
And when silence reclaimed the chamber, Wetra remained alone.
There was one moment he could not shake—
The instant his blade met Bune’s wrist.
Elsewhere, a child clenched his small fist, staring at a world that had already broken him.
He made a choice.
He would never be weak again.
The seed had been planted.
And Oblivion… would be its soil.
