The evening sun cast long, melancholic shadows over the estate of Duke Orion. In a high tower reserved for the Duke's arcane consultant, Bryn Garner sat slumped in a velvet armchair, a glass of wine untouched beside him.
Bryn was in a foul mood. He didn't care about the Duchy. He didn't care about the gangs, the politics, or the impending Silent Night. What ate at him, what gnawed at his very soul, was his decision not to intervene the previous night.
"A White Dragon," he muttered bitterly, swirling the wine. "A legitimate, high-tier magical beast. If only I had been there... my students and I could have bound it. Captured it alive. The study of its mana core alone would have advanced my research by a decade."
But the reports from the morning were even more maddening. A "Mysterious Mage" had defeated the beast in seconds. Chief Black's testimony—which Bryn had read with a scoff—claimed the mage transported them to another dimension where he could control reality itself.
"Ridiculous," Bryn spat. "Reality warping? He must be a rogue from the Spire of Alabaster. Those illusionists love to make you think up is down."
He stood up and paced the room. It made sense. A high-level illusion could mimic a dimension shift. But then... the crater. The physical trauma on the Dragonoid's body. "How can a mere illusion defeat a dragon physically?" he questioned the empty room. "An illusion cannot crush scales that are harder than steel. Unless... unless it wasn't an illusion."
"AAGGHHH!" Bryn shouted, sweeping a stack of papers off his desk. "If only I was there!"
He sighed, regaining his composure. There was nothing he could do about the past. "For now," he decided, grabbing his cloak, "all I can do is see the scene. I need to analyze the residual magic traces before the wind blows them away."
He walked to the door. "My students can handle the Dream Catcher tonight. Frankly, I don't care if half the Duchy sleeps through eternity. I have a mystery to solve."
…
In the private wing of the Evercrest Central Hospital, the air smelled of antiseptic and ozone. Chief Thorne Black sat up in bed, the heavy bandages around his chest already loosened. A high-level healer had accelerated his recovery; his bones were knit, his flesh sealed. He only needed rest now.
But his mind was a jumbled mess.
He looked at his hands, opening and closing them. The Mirror Dimension... it hadn't just been a spell. It had opened his eyes. It showed him how small, how rigid, his understanding of the world really was. And then, there were Sebas's words.
'The Royals... they made me like this.'
"Céline," Black said, breaking the silence.
Captain Céline Dubois, who was peeling a fruit by the window, looked up. "Yes, Chief?"
"The Dragon Man... he said the Royals were connected to him. That they experimented on him. Made him that way." Black's voice was low, troubled. "Are the Royals experimenting on their own citizens? How do I... the Chief of Watcher not know about this?"
Céline paused, setting the knife down. "He could be lying, Chief."
Black looked at her.
"Criminals lie," she elaborated, walking to his bedside. "He is a terrorist who just held a building hostage. He could be trying to sow discord between the Watchers and the Crown, using you as the vector. If he makes you doubt the King, he weakens the law."
"It could be," Black admitted, leaning back. "But I saw his face, Céline. That wasn't just a battle scar. That was... manufactured ruin. I can't help but both believe and not believe him."
He stared out the window at the darkening sky. "We will see how we move forward. But know this: The Kingdom is its citizens. Not the Royals, and not the Nobles. My loyalty is to the people."
Céline nodded firmly. "And I will be behind you always, Chief."
"Good," Black said. "How is Erwin?"
"He just went home," Céline replied. "He said he wanted to celebrate his survival."
Black smiled, a genuine warmth returning to his eyes. "Great. I'm going back to the Capital tomorrow. Call Erwin before I go. I have something for him."
Céline nodded. "I'll let him know."
…
Night had fully descended on Evercrest. Outside, the city was quiet, families huddled in their homes, children forced to stay awake to ward off the Dream Catcher anomaly. The streets were hushed, the air thick with the faint, drowsy magic of the phenomenon.
But inside Café LeBlanc, the atmosphere was anything but sleepy. It was a riot of celebration. The "Closed" sign was flipped, the blinds were drawn, and the family was finally all together.
At the bar, Erwin, dressed in comfortable civilian clothes, clinked his glass of whiskey against Gellert's.
"That was a good last-minute adjustment, Gel," Erwin said, taking a sip. "I think your Mirror Dimension stunt split Chief Black's mind wide open. He's not suspicious of Sebas's explanation anymore. In fact, from now on, he's going to question every single movement the Royals make."
Gellert, swirling his drink with a flick of his finger, chuckled. "It was because of Sebas, really. He pushed the fire too hard. It was the only way I could get us out of that inferno without roasting you alive."
Near the espresso machine, Sebas—currently in the stout, bearded form of General Iroh—was patiently instructing Zero on the proper way to brew a delicate Jasmine blend.
"You must respect the leaves, Master Zero," Sebas said, his voice warm and raspy. "They are not just ingredients; they are guests in the water."
"I'm trying, I'm trying," Zero laughed.
"Hold still, old man," Legolas grumbled, trying to wrap a measuring tape around Sebas's expansive waistline. "I can't make you these robes if you keep bowing to the teapot."
"Oh my," Sebas chuckled, patting his belly. "My fire really has become more dangerous because of Iroh. I am sorry, Young Master Erwin, for the inconvenience."
"Hey!" Soma shouted from the kitchen, tossing a wok full of glistening vegetables. "You guys almost charred the whole Duchy! Though... do you think dragon fire can make my cooking taste better? It's decided! Zero! The next character card—if it's dragon-related, I call dibs on it!"
Legolas didn't even look up from his measuring tape. "I bet you the next dragon character will be Mushu."
The café erupted in laughter.
"Mushu?!" Soma sputtered, offended. "The tiny lizard from Mulan?! Hey! I'm the most senior clone here! You all keep bullying me! Zero, do something!"
Zero just laughed, leaning against the counter. "Come on, guys. Soma has been helping. Even with his... mediocre... cooking, he attracts most of our customers."
"HEYY!" Soma yelled, pointing a ladle at Zero. "Mediocre?? How dare you!"
He plated the final dish with a flourish. A wave of aroma—rich, savory, and complex—wafted from the kitchen, instantly silencing the room. Stomachs rumbled in unison.
"Hmph," Soma scoffed, carrying the large platters to the bar. "Here you go. I upped my 'hearth' control. Each of these has a different effect—warming, energizing, comforting—and I can guarantee, no clothes tearing will happen tonight."
"Alright!" Zero clapped his hands. "Everyone, be seated!"
They all gathered around the bar, dragging stools to sit on both sides, turning the counter into a makeshift banquet table. The spread was magnificent.
Zero raised his glass. "It's been almost half a year since we arrived here," he began, looking at his brothers. "We started with nothing in a back alley. Now? We've made an impact on the world, ever so slightly."
He raised his glass to Sebas. "Cheers to Sebas. For the Hao Sect, which is already in every nook and cranny of the Duchy."
"Eww," Soma wrinkled his nose. "Don't say 'nook and cranny.' It sounds weird."
Zero bonked Soma on the head with his knuckles, then continued. "For Gellert, who started his debut on the world stage tonight. For Erwin, who at last planted his name in the mind of every citizen in Evercrest when they think of the Watchers."
He turned to the elf. "And next, for Legolas. Who will make his debut in the Capital when he travels there next week. CHEERS!"
"CHEERS!" everyone shouted, clinking glasses.
"And for me!" Soma shouted over the din, standing up on the rail of his stool. "The most handsome chef and the best brother out of all of you! CHEEERRRSSS!"
"Sit down, Mushu," Legolas said, pulling him back by his apron strings.
"Shut up!"
The feast began in earnest. For the first few minutes, the only sounds in the café were the clinking of silverware and the contented sighs of men who had been running on adrenaline for too long.
Erwin took a bite of the slow-braised meat. As he chewed, the tension in his shoulders—the weight of the "Golden Commander," the raid, the lies, the constant vigilance—simply evaporated. He closed his eyes. In his mind's eye, the chaotic streets of Evercrest faded away. He was standing on the shore of a pristine, white-sand beach, the sun warming his face, the sound of gentle waves lapping against the shore washing away his burdens. It was peace. Absolute, unadulterated peace.
Next to him, Gellert sampled a delicate, spice-infused dumpling. His eyes widened slightly. The flavor wasn't just good; it was triumphant. It tasted like the culmination of a century-long plan finally coming to fruition. He felt a surge of profound accomplishment, a sensation akin to standing on a balcony overlooking a world he had finally united under his vision. It was the taste of victory without the blood.
Sebas, in his Iroh form, sipped the broth of the soup. A deep, rumbling purr vibrated in his chest. He felt a sense of reverie, a god-like perspective where the chaotic pieces of the world aligned perfectly into a mosaic of his own design. It was the feeling of holding the world in the palm of his hand, not to crush it, but to marvel at its weight.
Legolas ate a perfectly seared vegetable medley. To him, the flavor wasn't just taste; it was geometry. It was color. It was design. He felt a sudden, lightning-bolt of inspiration. Patterns for fabrics, blueprints for business models, and architectural layouts for a fashion empire bloomed in his mind, vivid and clear. It was the taste of pure creativity.
And Zero just ate. He looked around the table at his brothers—his clones, his family. He tasted the food, and it didn't transport him to a beach or a throne room. It grounded him right there. It tasted like warmth. It tasted like home. It felt like finally having dinner with the ones you loved after a long, hard war.
"Hehehe," Soma giggled, watching their faces. "How is it? It's good, right? Like, really good?"
Gellert wiped his mouth with a napkin, regaining his composure. "It is... adequate."
Erwin nodded solemnly, keeping his beach-face hidden. "Yes. Adequate."
Legolas smiled, a genuine, rare expression. "It's good, Soma."
Sebas bowed his head slightly. "It is magnificent, Young Master."
"Hehehe! Oh, you guys!" Soma waved a hand dismissively, but he was beaming. "Come on, eat, eat! There's plenty more!"
Zero chuckled, leaning back. "I never realized you were so crazy for praise, Soma."
"No, I am not!" Soma protested, pointing his fork at Gellert. "Speaking of crazy, talk about Gellert. He's been loping around the house doing nothing but reading."
Zero laughed. "Well, Gel? How about it? Ready to go out there?"
Sebas interjected smoothly. "I heard from my spiders that a mage has been scouring the wreckage of the Hao Pavilion. A scholar hired by the Duke. He is analyzing the residual magic. You could open the gate from there. He is... fascinated by your work."
Gellert sighed, swirling his wine. "I was planning to wait until I had at least a few more magical character cards to flesh out my arsenal. But... perhaps starting to move now isn't a bad idea. A fascinated scholar is a useful pawn."
"Speaking of moving," Erwin said, turning to Legolas. "Sebas, is the car for Legolas ready?"
"It is ready," Sebas confirmed. "It is the newest model. I had the mechanics adjust the rune formula to maximize efficiency and comfort. Your journey to the Capital will be smooth, Young Master Legolas."
Legolas nodded. "Good. I'll finish Erwin's coat first before I leave. But," he frowned slightly, "sorry, Erwin. I still can't do enchantments. The fabric is tough, but it's just fabric."
"No problem," Erwin said. "The design alone is enough."
"Why not let me help you out?" Gellert offered, a glint in his eye. "I can lay the enchantments. Protection, temperature control... maybe a little stylistic flair."
Legolas looked at the dark wizard. "I would love that."
"It's decided then," Gellert declared. "A gift for Erwin's final act as the rookie. A complete coat with dual-system craftsmanship."
Erwin smiled, raising his glass. "Thanks, guys."
After they were all done eating, the plates cleared away, Zero stood up and clapped his hands. "Alright! Let's take a photo. To commemorate the first big win."
He pulled out a rune-cam and handed it to Erwin, but then shook his head. "No, wait." He pointed his finger, and a thread of Abyssal Weave snaked out, wrapping around the camera and lifting it into the air. "Self-timer. Abyssal style."
They all moved around the bar, shuffling to get into position so they would all be in the frame. Sebas (still in Iroh form) took up a lot of space in the back, Legolas and Gellert struck cool poses on the side, Erwin stood tall in the middle, and Zero leaned in front.
"Ready?" Zero asked, focusing on the floating camera.
"Yes!" they chorused.
"Wait!" Soma shouted, his eyes widening. "My ladle! The lucky ladle!"
He rushed toward the kitchen to grab his favorite cooking utensil.
"Soma, wait, the timer is—" Zero started.
Soma grabbed the ladle and sprinted back, but he was moving too fast. He tripped over a stool leg, stumbled forward, and shoved Legolas.
"Hey!" Legolas yelled, losing his balance and knocking into Gellert.
Gellert lurched forward, bumping into Sebas, whose belly bounced Erwin into Zero.
"Whoa!" Zero yelled, losing his concentration on the Abyssal thread.
FLASH!
The camera snapped the picture mid-chaos.
The resulting photo was a masterpiece of disaster. Soma was a blur of motion, flying horizontally through the air, ladle outstretched like a sword. Legolas looked indignant, mid-shove. Gellert looked surprised, his cool facade broken. Sebas looked like a jolly, tumbling boulder. Erwin was half-blinking, looking confused. And Zero was laughing, his face lit up with pure, chaotic joy.
Despite the mess, in that frozen millisecond of time, every single one of them—even the stoic Gellert and Legolas—had a smile on their face.
It was perfect. They ended up framing it.
…
The next morning, the atmosphere in the 7th Precinct was noticeably lighter. The oppressive weight of the imminent gang war had lifted, replaced by the busy, structured chaos of routine police work.
Captain Céline Dubois stood at the front of the briefing room for the morning roll call. She looked rested for the first time in weeks, her uniform crisp.
"Today," she began, making eye contact with every officer in the room, "the directive is different. We are not hunting. We are not raiding."
She clasped her hands behind her back. "Today, I want you all to go out there and touch the community. Talk to the shopkeepers. Walk the beat instead of cruising in your cars. Hear their thoughts. After the scares of the last few days, today is more important than ever to show the citizens that the Watchers are more than just people locked up in armored vehicles waiting for a fight. We are part of this city."
Detective Morhan, leaning against the back wall with a cup of coffee, raised an eyebrow. "We are? Since when do detectives talk to people without interrogating them?"
The room erupted in laughter.
Céline chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. "That's not funny, Detective. And you don't want to test me on this. Now go out there. And smile. Dismissed."
The officers stood, chairs scraping against the floor, the mood elevated as they filed out to start their shifts.
"Officer Smith," Céline called out over the noise. "Wait for a second."
Erwin, who had been heading toward the door with Wolfe, stopped. He nodded to Wolfe, who grunted and went to wait in the hall. Erwin walked back to the Captain's desk.
Once the room was empty, Céline reached into her drawer and pulled out a heavy, black leather scroll case. It was embossed with complex runic locking mechanisms. She held it out to him.
Erwin took it. It was heavy. "What is this?"
"It's a Runic Weapon Scroll," Céline said. "The Chief's personal scroll. The one he used during the fight."
Erwin's eyes widened. "The floating arsenal?"
"He wanted to give it to you personally," Céline explained, sitting on the edge of her desk. "But he got an urgent summons from the Capital early this morning and had to leave in a hurry. He told me to ensure this got to your hands."
Erwin looked at the scroll, feeling the hum of latent magic within it. "Can I even use it?"
"Technically?" Céline smiled wryly. "No. As a rookie, the rule book strictly states you are only allowed to use standard-issue equipment from the 'war bag' we gave you. No custom gear, no advanced magical artifacts."
She tapped the scroll in his hand. "For now, it stays in your locker. You can only use it after you are done with your field training and receive your full detective shield."
Erwin gripped the scroll tighter. "I'll take it as motivation to hurry my training, then."
"Don't rush," Céline advised, her voice turning serious. "Take your time. Absorb all the knowledge you can from Wolfe. He might be grumpy, but he is the best street cop in this precinct. Learn the city before you try to save it."
"Yes, ma'am," Erwin said.
"You're dismissed, Officer."
Erwin nodded, tucked the scroll under his arm, and walked out of the room, ready to face the streets not as a commander, but as a student.
*A/N*
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*A/N*