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“How are they?”
The messenger sighed, shaking her head with a sorrowful look, “Stable as always, but no signs of waking up.”
The tall, white-haired man nodded without a change in his expression. To others, he might have seemed cold, uncaring, even.
But the messenger knew better. She was the designated messenger for all happenstance in the New Federation’s network— which obviously included the New Federation’s #1 Hospital, reporting to him about the patient that had been injured in the infamous provocation against Calcharo a while ago.
Someone uncaring wouldn’t have paid for top-quality treatment for a recruit that hadn’t even made it into becoming a member before being severely injured to the point of a coma, after all.
“And their family?”
“They’re still holding onto the hope they’ll recuperate. And they extend their gratitude.”
The Ghost Hound leader waved a hand, dismissing it, like it wasn’t a big deal. “How’s the network doing?”
“They’re all doing fine. The stall owner that you last helped wishes to give you this, by the way,” She held up a sealed, unmarked container.
That seemed to catch Calcharo’s attention. He took the container without meeting her eyes, fixed on the box.
He cleared his throat, “How about the shipment from the new supplier?”
“On its course. ETA in an hour or so.”
Calcharo nodded, satisfied.
The messenger tilted her head, looking up at him curiously. “I have a question, though.”
He barely paid her a glance. “Speak.”
She wasn’t phased by his behaviour, rather used to it, “Are you really going to Huanglong?”
“Yes.”
She tilted her head. “What for?”
“Classified.”
“Ah, so a personal mission.” She nodded, looking him up and down.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re going, dressed like that?”
Calcharo frowned, crossing his arms. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”
“...You’re going to Huanglong. Do you want to be recognised as someone from the New Federation?”
Calcharo sighed, a hand on his head, as he waved her out, “It’s nothing you have to worry about. Just do your job, stay out of trouble, and keep your terminal online.”
She pouted as she headed out, “Yes, Dad.”
“I’m not your–!”
She winked at him, closing the door with a click.
Calcharo pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, but let out a fond sigh after she left.
He paused.
Calcharo looked down at himself. “Should I find something else to wear…?”
“Hey, Leader. Got a new shipment!”
Calcharo walked out of his room he had been in for a rather unproductive hour, a few clothes scattered on the mattress behind him. He nodded at the Ghost Hound’s reminder, heading over quickly, the unmarked container the messenger had given him under his arm.
“New gift?” One of the members asked.
“Mm.”
“Well, open it up!”
Calcharo handed the box over to the Ghost Hound. “You’ll probably like this.”
Indeed, when the box was opened to reveal some dog-shaped cookies, the Ghost Hound nearly wept in joy, garnering the attention of the other mercenaries nearby. “Hey, you gotta give us some! Don’t keep the good stuff to yourself!”
Calcharo walked away from the dogpile-turned-brawl behind him, leaving with only a warning of “Don’t break anything, or anyone.” and a chorus of “Yes, Dad” from the Ghost Hounds.
He shook his head as he walked to the shipment room. A few Ghost Hounds had already unpackaged all of the new supplies, each and every one of them looking at him with an excited gleam in their eyes.
“When can we test these out?” One of them asked, holding up a flashy new custom left-handed gun, while another one, missing an arm, stared longingly at the sleek silver prosthetic arm with an inbuilt machine-gun function.
“I’ll be leaving for possibly a rather long time, so you’ll have to ask the second-in-command once I appoint them later.”
That caused them to pause. “Oh? Where are you going, Leader?”
“Huanglong.”
There was a pause as he felt eyes looking him up and down. “...In that?”
He frowned. “...What’s wrong with what I wear? That’s the second time someone has asked me that today.”
Another Ghost Hound, the one eyeing the prosthetic arm, quickly interjected, “No, nothing is wrong! You look great! It’s just, uh, you’re pretty recognizable in New Federation already, even without taking what you wear into consideration, and wearing this kind of attire in Huanglong really makes you stick out like a sore thumb.”
His eyes lowered, “...I don’t have anything else.”
“Th-that’s fine, I’m sure you can ward off any threats anyways, right, guys?”
“Yeah!” The mercenaries quickly agreed.
Calcharo tilted his head, but simply nodded and tilted his head to the new shipments, “Well, I’m sure you can get some practice in for now before I go. First come, first serve.”
The mercenaries cheered, delving into the new weapons with careful delight.
Calcharo set off to Huanglong with a steady pace. The base he had stayed at being closer to the outskirts of Huanglong than the New Federation was very beneficial, with an easy route to follow.
He kept his senses sharp as he travelled, making a good distance before nightfall.
Being a mercenary group in the New Federation was a dangerous life, one that he had searched alternatives for before the recruit had gotten injured, and only recently started back up again. However, being a mercenary group in the New Federation also meant that there wasn’t anything else other than the mercenary life with his reputation.
So, he expanded his horizons.
Jinzhou would be a great ally to have, but Calcharo didn’t dare raise his hopes too much. It was rather unlikely for him to be able to shift from one kind of life to another just like that without something inevitably going wrong.
And, he was on the fence about leaving the Ghost Hounds behind. Some of them would be willing to join him, but he also understood that many of them simply couldn’t live a life other than being a mercenary, and he certainly wouldn’t force them to.
He wouldn’t ever force anyone into a life they didn’t want, not if he could help it.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. No use dwelling upon it when the future was still yet to be determined.
It was at that time that he felt something leap at him. He dodged back in flash, lightning buzzing under his skin as he unsheathed his sword.
Sharp, measured strikes with electricity travelling down his sword hit the Tacet Discord, which disappeared after a cross slash and a plunge into its skull— or at least what was supposed to be the skull, since they all just disappeared into golden dust.
Another Tacet Discord threw itself at him, which he dealt with similarly without breaking a sweat.
Then, a much larger Tacet Discord compared to the ones he had fought before appeared with a screech, purple wings spreading out.
An electro aligned enemy. Not a great matchup, but he’s still able to take it on nonetheless.
Calcharo let out a long exhale as the fight ended. Right, he would have to familiarise himself with the new regional Tacet Discords. Checking out a library or a reliable database somewhere in Jinzhou shouldn’t be too hard.
He looked up. The sun was setting, the easily navigable path starting to blur with the grass from the lack of light to illuminate the way.
He checked his terminal’s map. Pretty close to the border of Outer Huanglong, but not enough for him to be able to reach Jinzhou before midnight.
He had left midday to wait for the new shipment to arrive and confirm it, so it made sense. But he had travelled light, without any temporary shelter available. Guess he’ll have to travel through the night as well.
As he neared the border, the regional Tacet Discords became more common, though appeared less frequently than in the Lawless Zone.
Probably the work that Jinzhou had taken upon itself to do, as the frontier city and the only one in Outer Huanglong.
…Way to make the youngest do all the work.
“!”
The winds picked up. He raised his head to look at the sky— It was darkening quickly, clouds obscuring the moon, leaving an ominous dimness of the area.
The acidic tang of electricity on his tongue warned him of something happening. Something big.
He placed a hand on his Terminal— yeah, it was dead. The map was gone, too.
He shook his head, but kept heading in the general direction of the border. It was slightly more difficult without the guiding light of the moon, but never say that Calcharo wasn’t adaptable.
He encountered a few more groups of Tacet Discords. Despite defeating them without much effort, he noticed a spike in the density of the groups.
And, it seemed, they only increased the closer he got to his goal.
The trees blocked his view, but he felt the electricity under his skin spark. A dark reddish miasma started to condense as a large group of TDs walked out.
These seem different.
He stood back, behind a tree, as the crowd rose.
I might have come at a bad time . But… They’re in my way.
He thumbs his sword out of its sheath, lightning crackling down it and catching the TDs’ attention.
He attacked the closest one first, a floating, relatively humanoid one that stood off to the edge. Reverberations created by the instrument in hand manifested in the form of dark purple orbs that he took care to avoid while cutting the Tacet Discord down.
It took a bit longer than expected, fighting against a TD that didn’t even attack much outright. It faded into the miasma as it was defeated, but he had a bad feeling about it.
Indeed, the miasma seemed to condense further, until it was absorbed by the other TDs on the field.
He started slowing after each Tacet Discord he killed, yet when he turned to look at the area, the numbers seemed to remain the same. Stronger, even— the red miasma pooled more, most of which being circled around a large, hulking TD in the centre of it all.
The metallic taste of lightning on his tongue started to feel like a foreboding taste of blood.
His brows furrowed as the plunge dispersing electricity into the next Tacet Discord seemed to barely phase it.
Was it getting stronger?
Stab, slash, pull back, cross slash, plunge—
An arrow narrowly missed his side, cutting off a strand of long white hair—
Usually, the Terminal would be able to tell him of the health on the TD.
However, since it was down, he had to use his own judgement.
And that judgement’s rule didn’t seem too good.
His body ran on autopilot as his mind raced.
Retreat or fight?
The TD wasn’t that strong, and its movements were easy to predict and dodge— but too brute to parry reliably, and its toughness was off the charts.
Defeating it would require much more than simply shaving its health down.
By the rate he was going right now, he was very likely to suffer Forte exhaustion after the battle, which was not something that would help him in the long run.
Damnit, if only he’d taken another Ghost Hound with him—
But then they’d be trapped in this situation with him. Unless he had taken an entire team (team of mercenaries, what an amusing thought) of them with him, there’d have been no way to defeat the encirclement.
He dodged another attack, retaliating with a lightning-quick counterattack.
Is there a gap in the formation anywhere?
His eyes darted around, keeping the big TD that was in the midst of another swing in his peripheral vision, and leapt up into the air to take view of his surroundings.
There!
A break in the formation, between two floating TDs.
He glided down quickly, manoeuvring around the other TDs and their attacks to get to the gap.
Thump, thump, thump—
His heart thrummed at the sound of thundering footsteps from the red-miasma-covered TD following behind him.
The prickling feeling of an attack about to hit from a smaller TD propelled him to dodge back, but he ended up in the path of the large TD again.
A swing.
He gritted his teeth.
Clang—
The shocks of the hit against his blade trailed up his arms.
He couldn’t even breathe out a sigh of relief for his weapon still holding up against the blow.
The TD charged up its blow again. Instinctively, he knew that the blade wouldn’t be able to stand another hit.
He clenched the hilt, bringing up the sword in front of his face.
Although he hadn’t expected it to end this quickly, he was outnumbered and in a very precarious position.
At the very least, he was used to the notion of dying on the battlefield. If he was going down, he’d at least take that TD down with him.
Electricity built up, ready to blow as soon as his control over it was released, a bright light causing the weaker TDs to pause, but not the largest one.
It roared, enraged, and a swirl of red miasma condensed around its hand.
He closed his eyes as the attack dove down to his way, his sword held in front of him, anticipating the attack that would surely end him now and there—
And then—
A gust of wind.
A roar.
A shout.
Three things interspersed at once.
“Attack.”
Gunshots.
Vibrations of resonance abilities.
The heavy presence of the miasma dispersed.
A light breeze in its place.
He opened his eyes.
A gentle teal light shimmered in front of him. It was surprisingly opaque, with a scale-like pattern.
Then, it moved, and he saw it— A bright teal dragon made of resonance energy soaring through the air.
The Qingloong.
His mind raced, but his body reacted quickly, instinctively leaping to a more advantageous position— which turned out to be occupied already.
Occupied by a rather well-known face, at that.
Golden eyes, surprisingly gentle, glanced over at him.
“…” Faced with none other than the General of Jinzhou, Calcharo was a little bit speechless.
“Are you okay?”
Fortunately, he recovered quick enough to respond to the General’s question.
“I’m fine.”
Those golden eyes trailed up, looking at the tacet mark on Calcharo’s head.
“You’re nearing Forte exhaustion.”
Calcharo was surprised. It was natural for himself to know, but Forte overexertion symptoms usually only showed when it was already happening— the flickering light that had become a warning and a final salvation for his enemies. “How did you know?”
The General tilted his head, the dark teal hair behind him swishing slightly at the movement. “It’s rippling slightly less than a normal mark would be.”
He laughed sharply, “Seems the General is knowledgeable indeed.”
“Oh? You know me?”
Calcharo raised his brows, “You’re surprised by the fact that someone knows of the famous General of Huanglong’s frontier, Jinzhou, but not those irregular Tacet Discords?”
The General sighed. “Actually, these irregularities are becoming rather frequent nowadays. We have experience with them, to say the least. …Speaking of which, your Terminal must have been shut down by the Tacet Field formation, right?”
“It has.”
“Hm. Well, if you could stay here, I shall speak with you after clearing these Tacet Discords first.”
Calcharo acquiesced with a nod. His curious eyes followed the General’s toned figure that leapt off the cliff, having seemingly gathered the necessary information from where had stood at the vantage point prior.
The General called something to a red haired girl with a sword, and she nodded, leaping off out of the battlefield. To scout ahead, perhaps?
His thoughts were distracted by the sight of the General in combat. He was light on his feet, and the teal of his hair and clothing flowed fluidly like the teal dragon that manifested alongside him.
Normally, he would have thought the odd dress to hinder one’s combat, but the way the General fought dispelled any thought of that. It was assured in its power, measured and calculated yet free flowing, a stunning mix of strength and control. The dragon was simply a visualisation of it, curling around him and his opponents, swift alongside the spear that he used alongside his greatsword.
Or maybe it was the spear? It seemed to be absorbed back into it after a while, perhaps to recharge?
The battlefield was more of a stage, it seemed, to an onlooker. The other Midnight Rangers, dressed in the same uniforms and wielding the same weaponry of guns that somehow did damage the TDs were barely noticeable when the General dove into the fray.
Teal-coloured aero-enhanced strikes were captivating against the darkness of the night and stood out against the red miasma that threatened to swallow it whole.
The gunshots slowly dealt with the smaller TDs, but there were still more. The General was engaged with the largest, so there was still danger.
Then, the red haired girl that had left earlier returned into the fray. She didn’t seem much different, except Calcharo thought he saw some kind of scarlet light in her eyes as she tore through the TDs with unrefined but powerful strikes.
As the battle he was simply an observer to raged on, it was clear that the Tacet Discords were losing. General Jiyan by himself was a powerhouse, so they had practically guaranteed victory, but the addition of the red haired girl was enough to solidify the concept of an ending without major injury.
The battle ended. The General didn’t immediately return to him— Calcharo watched with approving eyes as the man checked up on his troops first.
Some of the Midnight Rangers noticed him, but the General must have told them something, since they left him without too much fanfare.
A light gust of wind heralded the return of the General to the point he stood on.
“Now that things are safe—for now—, we can talk. I am General Jiyan of the Midnight Rangers. You’re from the New Federation, correct?”
Calcharo tilted his head. “How did you know?”
The General said nothing, but the way his eyes looked him up and down told him everything he needed to know.
“Is my clothing that eye-catching?” He sighed.
General Jiyan’s lips twitched up. “It’s simply not common to see here. An interesting change.”
“I see.”
“So, who are you? Why are you out here?”
He considered for a second, but came to the decision quickly. “…You can call me Calcharo. I came here for a… deal, of sorts.”
“A deal?”
“With you.”
The General’s golden eyes blinked in surprise, and then narrowed in suspicion. “…What kind of deal?”
“A business deal. Have you heard of the Ghost Hounds?”
“Calcharo… ‘the Vicious’? You are the leader of the Ghost Hounds?”
He hummed. “Perhaps. Depends on your response.”
The General was quiet.
He watched as those golden eyes flickered from him to the Midnight Rangers milling below, then to the direction of Jinzhou amidst the dark night.
“I am willing to hear what you have to say,” The General began after a moment, “But it must not bring harm to Jinzhou— that is my bottom line.” Slowly, he held out his hand.
Calcharo smiled— a calculating one that sent shivers up everyone he had negotiated with, and visibly discomforted them. Yet the General stood his ground, warm gold staring against his cold silvery blue.
“Oh, I assure you,” He took the General’s hand in his own, “It will be very mutually beneficial.”