"Do you perhaps know the reason why I called you here, Waxzi?"
The chamber of the Zheno Order felt vast, though only two people sat inside. Wads stood before the long polished table while Kaizer lounged lazily in his chair, spinning a pencil between his fingers with that same carefree smile plastered on his face. His tone was light, but the air carried a weight beneath it.
"No." Wads answered honestly, arms crossed.
"Oke!" Kaizer's grin widened. "So it's only a week before the semester ends. After that, you'll all be deployed on your first missions."
The words made Wads's brow crease, though a flicker of excitement stirred within him. His first mission—it was what they'd been preparing for, wasn't it?
"Actually," Kaizer continued, leaning forward, "the benefit of being in the top ten is that you guys get to act one week ahead of the others. Consider it a privilege… or punishment, depending on how you look at it."
Wads tilted his head. "What kind of mission are we talking about? Surely you won't send me to my grave right from the start."
Kaizer burst out laughing, smacking the table with one hand. "Grave?! Hah! Don't tempt me, Waxzi. But no, no, you won't die—unless you do something stupid."
Wads deadpanned. "…That's reassuring."
Kaizer slid a sheet of parchment across the table. Wads took it, scanning the neat handwriting.
"You'll just investigate a church on the East side of Zhero Ryth."
Wads took the parchment and scanned it. The bold lettering read: Church of Salvation. His brow furrowed.
"Investigate? What could a church possibly—" His eyes stopped at a line on the paper. "Accused… of selling slaves?"
Kaizer's usual grin faltered into something sharper. His eyes—normally lazy and playful—narrowed."It is immoral to sell children as slaves," he said flatly. "Centuries ago, it was tolerated under the feudal lords, but His Majesty—our King—outlawed it the moment he ascended the throne. For over a century, the decree has stood absolute. Anyone caught breaking it faces death."
Wads's grip on the parchment tightened.
Kaizer leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Yet, our former president—the Crown Prince Razkar himself—obtained an intel that the practice has not fully died. In the East, whispers claim children are still being trafficked under holy banners. Names vanish from villages, whole families left broken. It reeks of slavery… and the trail points toward Zhero Ryth."
"But why the Church of Salvation?" Wads asked, brow furrowing deeper. "The paper doesn't say their involvement outright."
Kaizer smiled faintly, but his eyes were sharper now. "Because intuition tells me so. I dug into their archives and found too many inconsistencies. Wealth unexplained. Priests rotating faster than normal. 'Donations' that never pass through the Royal Treasury. Something is being concealed."
Wads frowned. "So this is your intuition."
Kaizer smiled thinly. "You've got a sharp tongue. Yes, intuition. But I've learned to trust it. And when the Crown Prince's intel and my gut align, it's rarely coincidence."
Wads looked down at the parchment again. His eyes lingered at the bottom where names were neatly listed:
Wyxro Waxzi
Reiyell Georgia Frey Ravenscroft
Ysoria Eldridge
Keiya Anastasia Zheka
"So that's it," Kaizer said, suddenly cheerful again, as if his brief seriousness had never happened. "After this term ends, I'll call you again. Don't die. Don't get caught. And most importantly—don't do anything that'll make me write apology letters."
Wads set the parchment down, bowing slightly before heading for the door.
But his thoughts weighed heavier with every step. If Kaizer's words held truth, this mission wasn't just dangerous—it was political.
If the Church of Salvation truly engaged in such deeds, it wouldn't simply taint their name. It would drag down the reputation of the entire Angeloco Kingdom.
For in this world, the Church was not just religion—it was power. Its influence rivaled that of monarchs, its roots stretching into every corner of society. In Angeloco, the capital of faith itself, the Holy Father Pope stood as the spiritual equal to kings.
The current Holy Father Pope was Aleksander Sr. Welthrode, a man whose words reached beyond borders. His successor, however, was far more peculiar. Unlike Academy students who trained in magic, sword, and statecraft, the next heir to the papal seat was raised solely in holy doctrine—his lessons focused entirely on channeling the divine essence of the Empress of the Unknown.
The Empress was an ancient, veiled figure in history. A deity? A myth? No one truly knew. Her chosen heirs were said to wield abilities beyond comprehension. Some claimed the gift was light, pure and absolute. Others whispered darker rumors—that the Empress's blessing could twist into something more destructive.
Wads exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.
"So complicated…" he muttered.
If the Church of Salvation was truly trafficking children, and if that truth came to light, then the entire Holy Order would bleed shame. And once faith itself was questioned, chaos could follow. For the people of Angeloco lived by faith—blind, desperate faith.
Yet, not all faith was powerless. There existed the Holy Patreon Knights, warriors sworn not to kings but to the church itself. Their loyalty was unquestionable, their strength legendary—so much so that some whispered they could rival even the Macheo Arcana III, one of thehighest ranks of physical supremacy.
If Wads and his companions uncovered something damning, they would not only face criminals or corrupt priests… but the wrath of the Holy Order itself...if ever they try to burry the information to avoid being shamed.
He sighed again, clutching the parchment.
"It would be troublesome…" he whispered.
And in his gut, he knew this mission was far more than a simple investigation.