The laughter around the ridge had barely settled when hurried footsteps broke the calm.
A cadet came sprinting up the rocky slope, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. His chest heaved violently as he finally reached the Mohawk Party, sweat clinging to his forehead despite the cold air of the artificial Glass.
He bent forward, gasping.
"B–Boss Aegon…!"
The group turned toward him, annoyed at the interruption.
Aegon didn't move from his seat atop the unfortunate student serving as his stool. He merely tilted his head slightly, his gloved fingers drumming lazily against his knee.
"Well?" he asked.
The messenger swallowed hard before speaking.
"It's… it's Soren!"
The name alone made several of the Mohawk cadets sneer.
"What about him?" one of them spat. "Is he dead already?"
The messenger shook his head as he forced the words out.
"The first group we sent after him… they were driven back!"
A ripple of surprise passed through the Mohawk Party.
"What?"
"No way."
