Mirta exhaled, letting the man’s words sink in. It suddenly felt like all their worries were resolved.
"What’s the matter?" The man asked worriedly, sensing the shift.
"Nothing, it’s just..." Mirta stared at him again. "Thank you." Her voice was steady and grateful as she released the anchor, and before the man’s stunned eyes, hundreds of Dawnless and Mistars mbers materialized, their cloaks shimring with concealnt runes.
"You, You-" the man stamred, but the First Executive’s fist knocked him out cold.
"Good job, Cia." Ralph comnded, nodding to the executive whose gambit had led them. "Now, we escape in these vessels, but who knows how to pilot them?"
The situation was about to seem hopeless again when Wick suddenly stepped up, "Sir, I can."
"Wick, you..." Ralph trailed off, relief flooding him. Imagine looking at your savior. If not for Wick’s intimidating presence, they might’ve sward him with gratitude
Without hesitation, they split into two groups, their numbers too large for one vessel. The 30-ter craft humd with rune-etched panels as Wick cloned himself to operate both.
Within minutes, the vessels roared to life, their engines vibrating the air as they lifted into the dark sky.
The man awoke, head throbbing, only to see the people he’d trusted stealing two vessels. "Shit!" He thought it was just a dream; however, it was real. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the border outpost, cursing himself. "I was talking to terrorists!" He slamd the alarm, its wail piercing the night.
"What’s wrong?" A soldier ran up and demanded.
"T-The suspected terrorists. They just took two vessels and flew off." He gaped.
At his words, the border erupted in chaos, red lights flashing, and loud sounds blaring. Communications buzzed to nearby vessels, and orders were even relayed to the Solaris border to intercept. The chase was on.
Inside the vessels, Wick’s clones flickered, weaving silencing, illusion, and camouflage runes around the hulls. No one dared interrupt, the tension palpable as soldiers’ vessels appeared in the distance, their runes glowing nacingly.
New tension arose as more vessels began the chase from a distance. There were also the experints with them; any little movent they made seed like they would explode.
After ten minutes, Wick ceased his frenetic movents, returning to the controls.
Ralph approached, his voice low. "What’s up?"
"Sir, I just set up a silencing, illusion, and camouflage formation around the vessels," Wick spoke, its clones rging back.
Jaws dropped. ’He cloaked entire vessels?’ The group in the vessel marveled as they sailed past the Lunar border, through the volatile no-man’s-land, and toward Solaris undetected. In the end, the Solaris’ border reported no sightings, but their vessels scoured the skies, determined to stop the "terrorists." They couldn’t allow terrorists on their land.
Days later, Wick’s voice cut through the weary silence. "We’ve entered Darkan."
Cries and tears of relief wafted through the crowd. So even began hugging themselves and crying. In their short lives as hardened criminals of the underground, this escape was unprecedented. Sneaking into a kingdom, wreaking havoc, and escaping with captives?
It was definitely a story they would tell in the years to co.
Another hour later, they dropped off the Mistars at their headquarters with the promise of more compensation before returning to the base and ho, Dawnless.
By the ti they returned, the third executive was already back from the alliance expedition. Seeing two vessels land, the organization erupted in celebration. After all, they had just gained another great thing.
However, before the festival could escalate, Ralph called a eting to explain what had happened in their absence. Around the executive’s table, they shared their stories, each tale more unique than the last.
***
Across a distant continent, Aires stood atop a heap of slain orcs, their green blood coating his armor, gore dripping from his blade. The creatures, ranging from two ters tall, had terrorized a village with clubs, axes, and greatswords.
Their defeat was swift; they were no match for him, but after much thought, the whole situation was strange in itself. At the mont, he could even see it, a strange red energy snaking from their corpses into the air.
’What is that?’ Aires frowned, its ominous presence unsettling.
"Thank you!" a voice called. Aires turned to see villagers gathered, led by an old man with a weathered face, their heads bowed in gratitude..
"Uh...." Aires flushed, unused to praise. "It’s nothing."
"Thanks to you, you saved our village." The old man spoke for the village residents.
"I-It’s okay, any other person would’ve done the sa."
"No, you saved our village," the old man insisted. "Not everyone would."
"Really?" Aires blinked, shocked. ’Who’d ignore a village in peril?’
"Please, co in. Let us treat you," the old man said, noting Aires’ bloodied state.
Aires hesitated, but their fervent gazes won him over. "Alright."
They arrived at the centre at the village’s largest hut, its wooden walls specially carved; this was the ho of the village head. So ladies ca in and began cleaning his body and tending to his wounds as he faced the old man across a firelit table.
"We don’t have much, but we wish to reward you. How can we help?" The old man spoke.
’Hmm, they won’t stop until I say sothing,’ He noted, then drew a plaque from the Church of Light, its surface glinting with holy runes.
"Ah," The old man’s eyes shone as he saw it.
"You know it? Do you know what it ans?" Aires asked with all eagerness.
The old man’s eyes lit up, then dimd. "I’m sorry, I can’t say."
"Why?" Aires pressed, his frustration rising.
"I am not obligated to, and you will find out eventually." The old man sighed.
"But no one is here." Aires couldn’t understand. No one was watching, so why didn’t anyone want to tell him?
"I’m sorry, but you are going to have to ask for sothing else," The old man sighed, his gaze flickering upward, regret flickering in his eyes for not being able to answer, after all. ’They’re listening.’ He shook his head.
Aires frowned. "Then those orcs, they weren’t normal. That red energy..."
The old man’s expression darkened. "Have you heard of the Garden?" he asked, his voice low, as if the very word carried danger.
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