The room was dim — not in light, but in the weight of those who filled it. The three orders of the world—Assassins, Hunters, and Sorcerers—sat in silence, their breaths slow, their postures carved from stone. This was not a place of comfort. It was war planning dressed as dialogue.
Zixuan entered with quiet purpose, his black boots thudding softly against the cold floor. He took a seat, every step deliberate, every movement honed by years of violence and loss. Ice Jhun, the Concept Wraith Slayer, followed beside him and sat to his left, as if fate had long arranged the symmetry of that moment.
Zixuan spoke first, his voice carrying no flair, just weight.
"I'm sure you all know why we're here… and for what purpose."
Across from him sat Maazin, a Hunter marked by the blue of his sharp eyes and the streaks of white lost in his brown hair — not of age, but of burden. His expression was calm, but the kind of calm that came from surviving too many battles.
"It seems this group of individuals… this Aria of Veins... has caused more than a disturbance. It's time the Three Orders handled this seriously."
Ice's lips curled into a half-smile, jagged and cold.
"Do you have a plan then, Maazin?"
Maazin nodded.
"We outsmart them. Set traps they can't escape. No more brute force."
Zixuan leaned forward, his fingers interlacing tightly as if gripping onto restraint.
"I hope that doesn't mean sending new recruits like last time. We've lost enough. That only leads to death."
"Then what do you propose we do?" Maazin asked.
Silence danced in the corners of the room. Then Ice chuckled quietly, his voice like frost settling on metal.
"Three strong ones from each Order. Assassins, Hunters, Sorcerers. That's our core."
He glanced toward Zixuan and added:
"We already have two. After every Order adds their own, we prepare the trap. Let them walk right into it, thinking we're scattered… unprepared."
Nods followed. Quiet ones. Grim ones. No optimism, only resolve.
For hours they drafted the plan — how to manipulate battlefield geography, bait the Aria of Veins into false safety, position snipers, surround from blind spots. Every detail mattered. Every second counted.
Eventually, the doors opened and the council departed, leaving behind only the chill of war-to-come.
Ice and Zixuan remained. The silence between them wasn't empty—it pulsed.
Zixuan broke it.
"Have you heard about… Nana?"
Ice's face didn't move. His voice came low.
"Yes."
"And Zeph?"
"Still alive," Ice replied. "Just barely. But his autopsy confirmed he's breathing."
Zixuan exhaled through clenched teeth. His eyes flared for a second before dimming again.
"Then we can't waste time. Zeph has value beyond just his rank."
"Agreed," Ice said. "If we lose him… we lose more than a fighter. We lose hope."
They stood in shared silence once more. Then Zixuan asked quietly:
"So... who do we call for our third?"
The air thickened again.