Year 987
Two men hastened to the small dock at the island's edge. The sun was only beginning to rise, the path barely visible, yet they rushed forward as if their lives depended on it. One of them carried a contraption clumsily.
"This was a bad idea—just as I had expected!" Yveres complained, his voice panicked, the only sound breaking the empty darkness.
"It looked to me as if you hadn't, you lunatic!" Falles ran after him, hands shaking as he struggled to hold the contraption. "Those mongrels might be after us for a while."
"Well, we couldn't just hand over that gizmo to them! We pulled this thing out, we're going to bring it back inside!"
It wasn't long before they reached the pier. Yveres stopped just short of the wooden floorboards to catch his breath, Falles scurrying up behind him. Though their vision was blurry, they caught the faint golden streaks cast across the wooden platform. The sun had already risen, but they barely spared it a glance—they no longer had the energy to.
"Y... You think there's nothing wrong going on?" Yveres muttered between heavy breaths. "This place's been too quiet for our own good." He glanced to both sides, legs barely holding him up from fatigue.
"Let's go." Falles stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under his weight. "We can't afford to take another breath."
Yveres didn't move yet. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, vision blurry and trembling. The wind blew with a quiet hiss as the sun's rays began to reach them. He hesitated a moment longer, then lifted a foot forward.
Before it could land, a crashing sound erupted. The water surged back in fierce turbulence, as if it too had flinched. The dock was gone. Wooden rubble lay scattered across the shore.
Falles stumbled back, the contraption slipping from his hands before he snatched it up again, though his gaze never strayed from the spot where the dock had been just seconds earlier. It had happened too quickly.
"The boat... it's... gone." Falles stared at the empty space where the water rippled. His gaze shifted to Yveres who stood motionless, his expression etched with horror as if the entire world had just vanished before his very eyes.
Slowly, he turned to Falles, eyes wide with despair. "How are we going to leave this place?"
Footsteps approached. They turned toward the source, their eyes narrowing in something between disgust and terror. The sun had risen high enough to reveal the entity at last.
Golden streaks radiated across the entity's dark fur, its large frame—anthropomorphic but certainly not human—looming at an imposing height. With a single breath, the creature exuded a vicious presence that left the two petrified.
The air felt heavy, thick, yet the place remained quiet. They didn't speak—they couldn't, as if the sight had sealed their mouths shut. It was the kind of look one wore when glimpsing something that could only exist at the edge of the world, and all they could do was stare in silence.
The hush grew deafening.
Then—Yveres moved. Quick. Eyes sharp. His arm shot to the side, palm open as if reaching for something. "You have the Vectra Machina with you. Run away with it. Go. I'll stall whatever monster that thing is."
A jade sword with fine edges thrust out of a tear in space, sliding neatly into his raised hand. He shifted into a battle stance, both hands tightening around the hilt.
"Wait, what?" Falles asked, voice unsteady. "Are you saying I should return without you?"
Yveres glanced over his shoulder without turning away from the monster before him. "At least one of us must return to close the barrier. We can't let any outsiders inside." His eyes narrowed. "We started this. We made this happen. If none of us returns, we're just letting these monstrous creatures in."
Falles let out a nervous laugh. "You do realize that we have no way to go back, right? That boat is the only—"
"Then swim," Yveres snapped, voice firm and clinical. He turned his gaze back to the creature, sword now leveled at it, though his stance was purely defensive.
"I've already told you—at least one of us must return. We're putting the entire land at stake if we don't." He didn't spare Falles another glance. Then, more softly, with a plea in his voice: "So... please."
Falles wavered for a moment. Then he ran, slow at first, until resolve carried him farther than his own legs could. There was no stopping anymore—he ran until he was sure the creature couldn't reach him.
Still, Yveres didn't cast another glance after him, not even at the empty space where Falles had been. His eyes stayed fixed on the monster, as if they carried their own savagery—though he knew it paled in comparison.
"I don't know what you are. I don't know how many of you are out there. But if you're here to stop us from escaping, you'll only succeed in stopping one of us." He tightened his grip on the sword, breath uneven no matter how hard he tried to steady it. He faced the horror alone—left, but not abandoned. Like a child clutching a stick before a lion he'd never seen.
The creature moved slowly, one step after another. Its silvery eyes flared, sharper than his own, feral in their essence. Yveres held its gaze, his body motionless, refusing to look away.
His grip quivered beneath the creature's presence, vision wavering as it closed the distance in a casual stroll—like a predator approaching a frail, defenseless codger.
A blink. The entity had vanished. The blade clattered to the ground, but it wasn't the first thing to land. The creature had appeared behind him—he realized that. At the corner of his eye, he caught the fresh red smear on the ground, one he swore hadn't been there a moment ago.
His gaze dropped, slow and steady. His arm was gone, torn away, blood gushing as if it could never run dry. The sight registered before the pain.
He flinched, staggering to the ground, clutching at the wound with his remaining hand as if he could seal it. Yet he didn't scream. The creature's back was already turned to him—not that he could do anything in that state.
He had only promised to stall for time, never to survive—and he couldn't. The moment he'd drew his blade, he already knew there was no way out alive.
For a moment, he met the beast's gaze, almost as if testing its savagery.
"What is it... that you vile creatures want from us?" Yveres's voice came ragged, uneven. "Are you with that knave priest?"
The Partian turned to face him, its eyes—ferocious, sharp like what he'd really seen—stared down at him with piercing intensity. Its snout framed his head to resemble a wolf, teeth flaring as it parted its lips.
"Nothing in particular," it said in a low, husky voice. "I was simply following orders."
"So... you dogs can talk too?"
"Had your companion swam away on the spot, he would've lived to see another minute. The deacons are everywhere—there's nowhere else for him to run. By now, he must've already been captured."
Yveres exhaled briefly, deeply, his eyes half-lidded in a pale expression. "That apparatus... w-why would your kind be after it?"
"So you two did come from the other side of the barrier," the creature replied, squinting at his words. "There are only two ways to bypass it, and you two don't seem to have the qualifications to do so. Which means you used that machine to get through the barrier?"
Yveres had told Falles they could never return without the contraption—and when he did, the creature immediately understood what he'd meant.
Before he could answer, an archbishop appeared, his white chasuble swaying briefly in the air. He had come from the direction where Falles had fled, carrying the contraption Falles had escaped with.
Yveres's gaze shot to the man, then to the device in his hand, the fresh, thick bloodstain twisting Yveres's brows as if it had told him something unspeakable.
"What... did you... do to him?" He'd meant to scream but only managed a low whisper.
The priest glanced toward him, a smug, unimpressed expression on his face. "And this?"
"Answer me!"
"I did not kill him, though he may be in a graver condition than you are."
Yveres gritted his teeth, brows drawing together. In a low growl, he said, "You... you bastards..." Though the rage remained, he yielded to stupor, body going limp before sinking to the ground.
"What do you plan to do with that thing?" the creature asked.
"This machine was used by those vermin to bypass the barrier." The priest lifted the contraption as it gave a light, metallic clink. "On the other side of that enormous wall lie the Far Lands—where those Second Generation humans have fled. If we could use it as they did to breach these barriers, we could travel to the other side of the ocean."
He turned to the creature, stepping forward in a calculated manner. "With your kind as our army, those scabs will be nothing but chaff once we have subjugated their realm."
"We do not have enough manpower to fight an autarch who reigns over that realm."
"Eukeia's Autarch is buried."
The creature frowned, doubt creasing his features. "That is ridiculous. Each land enclosed by barriers is governed by an autarch. Are you saying those humans have buried their own deity?"
"The Second Generation people—like us, the First—are merely powerless mortals. But power alone is not what drives us humans to dominate—it is in our nature," the priest explained, voice even. "You may be of a different kind, but do not assume you are superior to us in every domain."
"And yet, you think that we could subjugate the same humans who were strong enough to suppress their own deity?"
"You are a Partian, Vulpes. Your kind is essentially the strongest and most evolved form in existence. Humans, while persistent, will in the end succumb to the apex power of the Partians."
"Hmph. Suit yourself," Vulpes scoffed, striding past him with a sullen air.
"Do I detect a sense of cowardice?" the archbishop sneered, tilting his head to cast a sidelong glance.
"If everything you have planned ends badly, I will be rejoicing over your carcass." The discontented Partian left without another word—flat, final.
* * *
Everything was dark. Yveres opened his eyes slowly—strainingly—his body heavy and rigid, as if he'd already lost enough blood to stay warm. Strangely, he couldn't feel anything except the cold tinge coiled around his body.
Am I finally dead?
Suddenly, the lights flickered on, flooding the room in a bright white glow. Instinctively, he looked toward the light and immediately flinched at the glare. He tried to move, but the steel chains held him in place, emitting a faint rattling sound. The archbishop stood before him, and the sight sent heat racing down his spine.
"It's... you," he mumbled, wincing as the pain finally registered. He glanced around, checking if the monster before still stood nearby. The image still clung to his mind, vivid, as if the real thing could appear at any moment.
"Excellent timing—you are awake." The priest tossed the contraption lightly onto the table and sat across from him, seepling his hands beneath his chin. "Who invented this piece of machinery, and how?"
"Why... would I tell you that? You could flay me alive and still not get an answer."
"Your friend is alive. Before I tell you where he is, I will require answers to my questions."
A brief hesitation.
"You'll kill us both even if I tell you. It's futile," Yveres said.
"Now, now—we are cruel, not tyrants," the priest replied, leaning back as he crossed his arms. "Moreover, you are the ones who have intruded into our lands. Your generation is our archenemy. Truly, we have every right to take your lives for such an infringement."
"My generation? What are you talking about?"
"The Second Generation—your people."
"Hah. Is this some kind of joke? 'Second Generation' humans? What, were the First Generation just apes? Some homo-type of shit?"
The archbishop's brows furrowed. "Hmmm. So you do not even know about your ancestors? Very well. There is nothing more to say about that. Will you take the chance that your friend is alive or not?"
The question caught Yveres, and he hesitated once again. His jaw tightened—still doubtful—but he knew he wouldn't get anywhere if he didn't put it to gamble.
"What are you going to do with it?" he asked, voice unsteady.
"With access to your land, conquest is the only way to atone for the damage your people have caused. To render the fruits of their labor futile, we shall establish a new autarch—still tethered to our control, of course. And, if necessary, cull a portion of your kind."
"You mongrels will never take our nation," Yveres huffed, though his words were pure bravado. "Try all you like, but the autocrats will see you cut down."
"Autocrats? Preposterous. So your people have devised their own form of government, supplanting divine authority? Do tell—"
"Archbishop!" A deacon barged in. "Someone has intruded into the archdiocese!"
Tch, now? The priest glanced at Yveres. "The interrogation will have to wait."
He stood and left, plunging the room back into pitch-black darkness. The next second, an overwhelming pressure bore down on Yveres, as if his entire body were pleading to compress. The force sent him into a stupor, though he struggled to remain conscious.
The priest and the deacon hurried through the long, palatial hallway, heading toward the castle's entrance.
"Any information on the intruder?" the priest asked.
"The other deacons reported it was a human—a juvenile."
"Tch. Another one from the barrier? What of the other bishops? Have they arrived at the scene?"
"Th—they have, but it seems they are unable to restrain him."
The two made their way to the bailey—the source of the commotion—to investigate whatever awaited them beyond.
* * *
Falles... hold on a little longer. Yveres's hand glowed faintly in the dark as he gripped the shackles. His wound had gone numb, dry, yet the pain only grew more unbearable with time.
After a moment, the shackles gave way as he tore through them with his hand. The chains clattered against the ground as he rose slowly, legs barely able to bear his weight—as if one more sting of pain would send him collapsing.
The glow from his hand faded—he'd already run out of energy. He scanned his surroundings, though there was nothing to see beyond the hush of darkness.
He'd broken free from the shackles that had nearly ticked him to death, sure—but he still couldn't find his way out. Not when there was no difference between closing his eyes and opening them.
Suddenly, the ground trembled, and small bits of debris fell from above.
What's happening?
Then—as if in slow motion—a luminous blast ruptured the ceiling. Everything turned bright violet. A thunderous roar followed, shaking the entire place beneath him. His ears rang perpetually as he lay on the ground, arms braced over his head.
How did it come to this?
When the shaking stopped, he rose and opened his eyes slow. Looking up, he saw the palace in ruins—as if a meteor had struck the archdiocese clean through.
"Falles... are you alive yet?" he muttered under his breath. The situation had already become impossible.
He hesitated—whether to save Falles or abandon his beliefs and save only himself. He didn't even think about finding a way back without the contraption—the thought had simply slipped from his mind. With the priest and whatever creature that was, leaving this place alive would already be a miracle.
In the end, he chose to save what was still present and alive—himself. His body tore through the dusty air as he darted down the hallway.
I would never want to die in a place like this! He stumbled forward, blood dripping from his wound. Just a little more!
He trudged on, straining to cover the distance, feeling his body weaken with every step. Another loud blast erupted nearby, sending cracks spidering across the walls. He lost his balance and fell, groaning in pain.
The exit was just there—waiting—casting its pale light down the dimly lit hall that seemed to waver faintly. Standing before it was the silhouette of a human.
As Yveres's vision cleared, the figure came ino focus. Their vibrant purple hair radiated light across the scenery, eyes gleaming in pristine violet. Held by their hand was the contraption that seemed to be already broken.
A human?!