The cheers fade into scattered conversations, leaving a dull, persistent hum in the air.
The knights disperse slowly, a disorganized flood of iron and adrenaline, like massive waves breaking apart after a violent storm.
Their laughter, their feverish boasts of glory—every single word grates against my ears, a high-pitched, irritating static I can't filter out.
But my eyes are fixed on one man.
The Commander.
He stands at the edge of the training grounds, a pillar of shadow and steel. He speaks with Gareth and the other A-rank knights in low, clipped tones that never seem to carry. His presence is iron and shadow—unshaken, absolutely immovable. Even in this noisy chaos, he remains perfectly calm, as if nothing could ever reach him or chip away at that rigid composure.
After giving out a final, silent set of orders to the instructors, he turns and strides back toward his office. The other A-ranks scatter in different directions, rushing to carry out his precise, unyielding commands.
Around me, the remaining knights chatter excitedly. Some brag about the sheer number of monsters they'll personally kill. Others talk about bringing glory to the ancient Thorne family—or, more selfishly, to their own bloodlines.
I watch them, a cold knot tightening in my stomach, and my heartbeat quickens.
Something is profoundly wrong.
My intuition gnaws at me, a persistent, uncomfortable itch, whispering a truth no one else seems to notice: The Commander is hiding something. Something heavy and lethal, something you could choke on.
I can't shake the feeling.
So I start walking—step by precise step—straight toward the Commander's office. I retrace his exact path, my boots echoing softly, a solitary, sharp sound in the otherwise empty, stone hallways, until I reach the heavy wooden door.
Taking a deep, necessary breath, I steady my racing heart. My hand lifts, hesitating only for the briefest moment, before rapping against the thick wood.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in."
The Commander's voice filters through, steady and undeniably commanding, yet with that same unnerving, absolute calm.
I push the door open and step inside.
The Commander sits there, spine straight-backed in his large chair, his uniform crisp and dark, his posture utterly unyielding. His eyes—calm, cold, and unnervingly sharp—fix directly on me the moment I enter.
"Kael," he says evenly, his voice cutting through the dense silence like a sharpened blade. "Why are you here? If this is about training, you already know the circumstances. I won't be able to help you train right now."
"No, Commander. It's not about the training," I answer him.
"So then why are you here?"
I look straight into his eyes, swallow hard against the sudden dryness in my throat, and then open my mouth.
"It's about the monster stampede, Commander."
"I already told everyone about it," the Commander says, his eyes narrowing just perceptibly as they lock onto mine.
"No, Commander. There is something you didn't tell."
"What?" he asks, his voice perfectly flat, draining the last bit of warmth from the room.
"The reason, Commander. You didn't tell us the reason behind this stampede."
The Commander doesn't say anything. The silence between us stretches like a pulled thread about to snap, sharp and dangerous. Then, finally, he exhales a slow, measured sigh.
"I indeed didn't tell them about the reason, because they don't need to worry about that. I will take care of it."
"So there is indeed an S-rank monster behind it," I say, finally releasing a heavy breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Yes, Kael. There is an S-rank monster commanding the horde this time, and they will reach the fortress in three days."
His eyes harden, and his voice turns colder, final.
"And the reason I didn't tell anyone about this is because it will spread fear among them. And fear spreads faster than fire—it will destroy the fortress before the monster stampede even happens."
So I was right. There is truly an S-rank monster among them.
But my senses prickle—something is still wrong.
The Commander still isn't telling me everything.
I have seen the shadow of his power before. He is far stronger than a typical S-rank—perhaps many times stronger. I concluded this long ago from the way he interacts with Charlotte, who is known as one of the strongest S-ranks alive. He hasn't even looked at her properly in years.
If he wanted, he could defeat an S-rank monster himself, with minimal effort.
So why... why does this feel so different? Why is he showing me even this much?
His index finger taps softly on the edge of his chair's armrest.
A meaningless gesture to anyone else, but to me it stands out like a crack spreading across polished stone. He is calm, collected as always... yet there is something in the depth of his dark eyes I have never seen before.
Nervousness.
"Is that all, Commander?" I ask, keeping my voice deceptively even.
His eyes narrow. "What do you mean by that, Kael?"
"I'm asking if that's everything. Or is there something else you saw out there?"
The tapping stops. The silence stretches again, taut and dangerous.
Then his gaze locks onto mine—heavy, absolute, unblinking.
"Kael," he says slowly, the word drawing out the tension, "your intuition is... very sharp."
A sigh escapes him, low and weary, the first genuine exhaustion I have ever witnessed in him.
"There is one more thing. Something only I and the other instructors know."
My heart tightens, a painful compression in my chest. "What is it, Commander?"
His voice drops, grave and heavy with certainty, forcing the air out of the small room.
"There isn't just one S-rank monster," he says.
"There are two."
"There are two S-rank monsters?"
My voice comes out louder than I expected, almost a sharp bark. But who could blame me?
The piece of information the Commander has just revealed... it is staggering.
Two S-rank monsters.
Alongside thousands of others in the horde.
Dealing with one S-rank is hard—nearly impossible even for a fortress's elite squads.
But two?
That is a nightmare no fortress can withstand.
My thoughts spin. They fly against everything I know to be true.
S-rank monsters don't work together.
They rule their own brutal territories, fight over every inch of land, tear each other apart for total dominance.
For two of them to lead a single monster stampede... it defies everything I know about the world's order.
I stare at the Commander, my mouth bone-dry.
"How... how is that even possible?" I ask, my voice cracking slightly with the shock. "How can two S-rank monsters work together like this?"
The Commander's eyes darken. His fingers, still resting on the armrest, curl slightly—as if the question has a terrifying weight even he doesn't want to carry.
"That is something I don't know," the Commander says at last, his voice low, measured, the sound barely disturbing the air. "But this… this is an exception. A rare one. Yet it's real."
His eyes harden, and the immense weight of his words presses on my chest, threatening to suffocate me.
"There are indeed two S-rank monsters. One at the front, leading the stampede. The other in the back, commanding the horde."
I mutter under my breath, my throat tight, the air rasping on the way out.
"So… we'll have to fight two S-ranks."
The thought alone sends a violent chill down my spine. Even imagining it is enough to make every muscle in my body tense and coil, ready for a fight I know we can't win.
I force myself to meet his gaze, gripping the terrifying reality.
"What about reinforcements, Commander? You must have already contacted the main house—they should be sending aid."
The Commander's expression doesn't change, but something cold, sharp, and deeply unsettling flickers in his gaze.
"That," he says slowly, each syllable measured, "is the tricky part."
He leans back in his chair, the movement slight, yet it seals the decision. His tone is heavy with an absolute finality.
"There will be no reinforcements, Kael. We will face this alone."