In his office, cluttered with scrolls and royal seals, Arclord Bailo Nomureo let out a heavy sigh as he signed yet another report. His hand had grown stiff after hours of writing, his eyes weary from scanning line after line of frontier updates.
Knock… knock… knock.
Bailo lifted his head.
"Enter," he said flatly, without looking up from his desk.
The door creaked open. The sound of clinking metal followed heavy footsteps. A tall man in black armor stepped inside, the emblem of a broken cross etched across his chest. His helmet hung at his side, revealing sharp, cold eyes that knew nothing of jest. He saluted.
"I, Sir Zenorius Calthros, Captain of the Mortarii Bellum, report."
Bailo nearly dropped his pen.
"…Mortarii Bellum? The captain of that death corps—here, in a provincial city?"
He stood, unable to mask his shock. "What business brings you here? Don't tell me you've come to demand more funds. I already submitted that request to the High Divina Council."
Zenorius remained calm. "The Council has approved it. But that is not why I came."
Bailo frowned. "Then… what? Don't waste my time, Sir Zenorius. My hours are not endless."
Zenorius glanced at the mountain of papers on the desk before fixing his gaze back on Bailo.
"I've received reports from my men. Over the past two days, monster waves from the Abythralis Forest have increased drastically. And there is one more matter—rumors of a towering black silhouette, shaped like a spire, that appeared last night."
Bailo exhaled, then gave a small, dismissive laugh.
"Is that all? You came all this way for knights' tavern gossip? Abythralis is always full of hallucinations. The miasma of its trees deceives both eye and mind. Today it's a tower, tomorrow a dragon, the next day a golden palace. Nothing new."
Zenorius didn't flinch. "Nothing new? Is it also nothing when the monsters double in number? When the surge begins the very night that silhouette appears?"
Bailo fell silent. His fingers tapped the desk.
"You can't be serious. Do you really believe it's real? Don't joke with me. For centuries, hundreds of expeditions have entered Abythralis. None ever returned. Even the Divinari acolytes call it the forest of illusions that devours souls."
Zenorius stepped forward, his voice heavy.
"I know. Entering the heart of Abythralis is suicide. I'm not a madman. I have no intention of plunging into its depths."
Bailo raised an eyebrow. "Then what?"
"I want only observation. To study the forest's perimeter—record monster patterns, measure the miasma, search for any sign connected to this tower. If it is real, the kingdom must know. If it is illusion, then at least we will have certainty."
Bailo stared long and hard at him, weighing his words. This man… captain of Mortarii Bellum, famed for fearing nothing. Yet even he knows limits. So why does his intent still sound like madness?
Bailo let out a deep sigh.
"Zenorius, even observing is dangerous. The miasma corrodes the mind. One wrong step, and you'll wander too deep. No one will drag you back."
Zenorius inclined his head slightly. "I understand. But if we sit and do nothing, and the tower proves real… who will bear the price? Domeralith will fall first. Then Esperalza itself."
Bailo froze. The words struck hard. He glanced toward the window, where the fortress walls loomed against the horizon—but his mind wandered to the black forest beyond. The silhouette the knights reported… he had dismissed it, yet the same description appeared in report after report.
Was it truly just an illusion? Or is something far worse awakening there?
Bailo sat back down. "I hate to admit it, but you're right. We can't blind ourselves forever. Very well. I won't stop you."
Zenorius gave a short salute. "That is enough. I only request permission to establish a temporary outpost near the forest's edge—no more."
Bailo nodded, though unease lingered in his face. "Do it… but don't expect me to claim responsibility if you vanish. I'll report to the capital that your actions were your own initiative."
Zenorius's lips curled in a faint smile. "That's all I ask. I need no one's protection."
Silence fell again. Only the scratch of Bailo's pen filled the room. Zenorius turned and walked to the door.
Just before leaving, Bailo called out.
"Zenorius."
The captain looked back.
Bailo's eyes sharpened. "I don't believe in this tower's shadow. But if you see it with your own eyes—record it. Its shape, its size, even the feeling it stirs. Every detail. Because I fear… it may not be an illusion."
Zenorius's gaze hardened. "You feel it too, don't you? That the tower is too real to be a dream."
Bailo said nothing, only turned his face away. Zenorius gave a faint smile, then stepped out. The door closed behind him.
Bailo stared at his papers, but his focus was shattered. The hand gripping his pen trembled.
A tower piercing the clouds… if it is real, then Abythralis is not all that has changed.
Sir Zenorius Calthros stepped out of Arclord Bailo Nomureo's mansion with steady yet heavy strides. His black armor gleamed faintly beneath the midday sun. On either side of the street, fortress knights who recognized him immediately straightened their backs and saluted. Some even lowered their heads deeper than usual.
Behind him, a dozen knights clad in dark armor followed in perfect formation. They were the core of Mortarii Bellum—the death legion whose name alone could silence even veteran knights.
"He really came to Domeralith…" whispered one guard.
"What business would an elite corps like that have in a border town?" another muttered.
"Could it be… about the monster waves? Or… that tower-shaped shadow?"
The whispers grew, a mixture of curiosity and dread.
Aquilla, sitting at the edge of the barracks polishing his sword, caught the word tower. His hand froze. His eyes narrowed, recalling the same dark silhouette he had glimpsed faintly through the misted forest the night before.
So it wasn't just my imagination? Other knights saw it too…
He rose to his feet, gaze fixed on Zenorius, who was already giving orders to his men.
"Set up an observation post near the barracks. Do not stray beyond the fortress walls," Zenorius commanded, his deep voice echoing like steel.
"Yes, Captain." The knights of Mortarii Bellum moved at once.
Aquilla tightened his grip around his sword hilt. This is my chance… If I don't ask now, I may never know the truth.
Yet hesitation clawed at him. I'm just an ordinary knight. Do I even have the right to speak to someone like him?
He bowed his head for a moment, then drew a sharp breath. No—I have to know. If that shadow really is a tower, then the world could change forever. I can't remain silent.
He stepped forward firmly. Standing tall, he gave a crisp salute. "I am Aquilla Elvanir, of the Domeralith garrison guard!"
Zenorius turned, his blade-like eyes locking on him. The knights of Mortarii Bellum shifted their attention, some visibly surprised at Aquilla's boldness.
Aquilla held his breath, then spoke clearly:
"Is it true… that Captain Zenorius's mission of observation is to confirm the shadow of a tower within Abythralis Forest?"
For a moment, silence reigned. Zenorius's gaze pierced him as though reading every thought in his head.
"…It is," Zenorius answered at last, curt and decisive. "Why do you ask?"
Aquilla clenched his fist. "Then please—allow me to join. I want to participate in the observation."
Murmurs erupted around them.
"Is that boy insane?"
"He's just a garrison knight… and he dares to volunteer?"
Zenorius studied him with a blank expression. Inwardly, he mused: A nameless young knight. His curiosity burns, but in a mission as dangerous as this, he'll only be a burden.
And yet, something stayed his rejection. Aquilla stood without wavering, his eyes steady. Different from the others who didn't even dare meet his gaze.
"Are you aware this isn't training?" Zenorius asked, his voice as cold as iron. "The miasma of Abythralis can rob you of reason in an instant."
"I am aware," Aquilla replied quickly. "But if the tower is real, I don't want to live hearing only rumors. I want to see it with my own eyes."
Zenorius narrowed his gaze. Is this courage… or foolishness?
One of the Mortarii Bellum knights stepped forward, his tone harsh. "Captain, this boy will only slow us down. Let him stay in the fortress."
Aquilla spared him only a glance, then bowed again to Zenorius. "Compared to your elite corps, I am weak. But I swear I will neither obstruct nor burden you. All I ask is to join… even if only as an extra pair of eyes."
Zenorius let out a faint breath. Inwardly, he compared the young knight to the others. Not a single one among them had the spine to speak to him directly—let alone request to join.
Bravery is a rare sword. Even if the blade is dull, courage can sharpen its edge.
Finally, he spoke. "Very well. You may come."
Aquilla's eyes widened. "Truly…?"
"But remember," Zenorius continued. "The moment you hinder or weaken the formation, I will send you back without hesitation. Consider this a test, Aquilla Elvanir."
Aquilla bowed deeply, his voice trembling with resolve. "Thank you, Captain! I will not fail you."
The knight who had objected only scoffed under his breath, retreating back into line.
Zenorius turned to his men once more. "Prepare equipment for observation. At dawn tomorrow, we move toward the forest perimeter."
"Yes, Captain!" the corps answered in unison, their voices sharp and unwavering.
Aquilla stood tall, his chest pounding like a drum. Inwardly, he whispered to himself: I did it… I'll see for myself what lies beyond Abythralis's mist. That tower… I must learn the truth.
Meanwhile, Zenorius cast him a brief sidelong glance. This boy… will his courage become a light? Or will he prove to be nothing more than a candle snuffed out in the dark?
The sun dipped westward, staining the sky in crimson hues. In the distance, the Abythralis Forest loomed—an endless wall of black timber and miasma. And there, faint against the horizon, the silhouette of a tower stretched skyward.
Tomorrow, they would draw closer to the truth.