On the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the year 2033, the world was no longer the same.
The country once called Brazil had disappeared.
From the ruins of its democratic system rose something new.
The Tupania Empire.
In the southern region of Caetvar — territory that was once known as Minas Gerais — power now rested in the hands of the local noble, Count Caeté.
Between silent hills and memories buried by time, there stood a structure that seemed to have been forgotten by the world itself.
An orphanage.
Its tall, dark walls carried the weight of decades. Perhaps centuries. Ancient stones, rusted bars, and metal structures battered by time gave the place an almost sepulchral appearance.
The wind passed through the iron gates with a metallic whisper.
Dry leaves danced across the empty courtyard like little specters.
The air was cold.
Not merely winter cold.
Cold as if time itself had stopped inside that place.
It was within this silence that a figure appeared in the distance.
A young boy was returning from his mission.
The tall walls of the orphanage became visible from afar. Rusted metal fences marked the boundaries of the grounds, and the massive gate remained closed like the entrance to a forgotten fortress.
His steps were light.
Precise.
Almost silent.
But in the silence of the empty courtyard, each step seemed to echo.
When he crossed the gate, the aged metal plaque revealed the name carved into worn letters:
Blackthorn Orphanage.
The smell of iron, damp wood, and cold stone filled the air.
Then the silence broke.
"They've arrived!"
"Alpha Group is back!"
Voices flared across the courtyard like scattered sparks.
Orphans began to approach.
Doors opened.
Curious eyes peeked through the windows.
Then he appeared.
Éreon.
He advanced slowly.
Each step seemed to carry shadows with it.
His presence carried something difficult to explain — a mixture of discipline, coldness, and something darker.
His pale skin contrasted with black eyes, empty as a starless night. His dark hair was short and disheveled, resembling scattered feathers.
On his back, held by a black sheath, rested his weapon.
The katana known as Totsuka no Tsurugi.
His sword.
His constant companion.
Unlike the other children of the orphanage, who wore simple black uniforms, Éreon wore something different.
He wore black from head to toe.
Leather.
Reinforced fabric.
Clothes made to move in the dark.
Made to survive.
Or to kill.
The hood cast shadows across part of his face, making his expression even harder to read.
The wind seemed to shift around him.
The temperature dropped.
The children who followed him felt it immediately.
Twenty of them had returned with him.
Twenty orphans.
But something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Whispers began to move among those gathered.
"He came back alone…"
"How is that possible?"
"How many have died leaving with the Alpha supervisor…"
"He's only thirteen…"
"Why does the director still keep him here?"
"Wouldn't it be better if he were dead?"
The words spread like whispered venom.
But no one dared speak loudly.
The fear was too strong.
The uneven stones of the courtyard reflected the faint morning light.
The shadows seemed to move with Éreon.
Then someone broke the tension.
If Éreon seemed to carry death with him, this boy seemed its opposite.
Light.
His wavy golden hair reflected the morning sun. His brown-gold eyes shone with almost living intensity. His posture was relaxed, confident.
Naturally dominant.
Where Éreon brought silence, he brought movement.
He opened his arms theatrically.
A wide smile on his face.
"Finally you're back, Éreon!"
"Do you know how I felt during these months?"
He placed a hand over his chest in exaggerated drama.
"My bed felt so empty…"
Some children held their breath.
The boy leaned slightly closer.
"Today we're going to make up for that."
The silence in the courtyard became absolute.
Everyone froze.
Éreon remained still.
His expression did not change.
His voice came low.
Cold.
"Phoebrus."
A small pause.
"Step aside."
"I need to deliver my report."
Phoebrus opened his mouth to answer.
But another presence interrupted everything.
Firm footsteps echoed across the courtyard.
An invisible pressure fell over everyone.
The director had arrived.
He emerged from the shadow of a stone arch.
Tall.
Broad and muscular.
Every movement carried discipline.
His silver hair was thick and wild, and a short beard covered his marked face. His silver-gray eyes observed everything with absolute coldness.
His gaze moved across the courtyard.
Children.
Supervisors.
Until it stopped on Phoebrus and Éreon.
"May I know…"
His voice was calm.
But heavy.
"the reason for all this commotion?"
Phoebrus answered quickly, recovering his theatrical posture.
"Sir, we were simply celebrating the return of Éreon, leader of Alpha Unit."
He shrugged.
"I admit I tried to provoke some reaction from him. Everyone knows he doesn't show emotions."
A small smile appeared.
"Consider it a failed social experiment."
The director did not smile.
"I heard that you are now a supervisor."
Phoebrus straightened immediately.
"Yes, sir."
The director nodded once.
"Then behave like one."
Phoebrus maintained his posture.
"Yes, sir."
The director's gaze grew colder.
"We do not need feelings here."
A pause.
"We need results."
His eyes turned again to Phoebrus.
"Shouldn't Beta Unit be on a mission right now?"
Phoebrus answered without hesitation.
"Upon hearing of Éreon's return, I decided to wait, sir."
A brief pause.
"It had been months since the last time I saw him."
The director remained silent for a moment.
Then he spoke, his voice cold.
"Do not forget where you are, orphan."
Phoebrus replied immediately.
"Yes, sir."
He continued.
"We have completed the preparations for the training."
"We will depart at nightfall."
The director looked at Éreon.
"The reason?"
Éreon answered without hesitation.
"By the law of the orphanage, any orphan incapable of completing a mission must be eliminated immediately."
His voice was as cold as steel.
"To prevent information about this institution from falling into the hands of our enemies."
He did not look away.
"Considering their incapacities…"
A small pause.
"I executed them."
Silence fell over the courtyard like a blade.
The twenty children who had returned with him stepped back instinctively.
Some stumbled on the stones.
Others clung to one another.
They had seen it.
They had seen everything.
The way Éreon killed his own companions.
Without hesitation.
Without emotion.
As if it were merely another task.
The director watched the boy for a few seconds.
"Is that all?"
Éreon answered calmly.
"I can report the details now, sir."
"But that will take time."
The director reflected for a moment.
Then decided.
"In one week I will return."
"I want the complete report."
He stepped closer.
"And if it does not please me…"
His gray eyes glinted faintly.
"you will bear the consequences."
He then adjusted his black blazer.
"The supervisor of Omega Unit will be responsible for the new orphans."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned.
His escorts followed him.
The gates closed behind them.
The courtyard sank again into tension.
Then someone stepped forward.
Leader of Omega Unit.
He walked with heavy steps, holding a long metallic scythe.
Dark skin.
Long black hair partially tied back.
His golden eyes shone like heated metal.
He stopped in front of Éreon.
"Those who left with you were my friends."
His voice was low.
But filled with fury.
"Give me a reason."
The scythe turned slowly in his hand.
"If there is no plausible justification…"
A small pause.
"By the law of the strongest…"
"you will die here."
He raised the weapon.
"Now answer."
"Why did only you return?"
Éreon did not answer.
He simply walked toward the main door.
The leader of Omega Unit advanced.
The scythe fell in a lethal arc.
But before it could strike—
A third figure appeared between them.
Phoebrus.
With bare hands.
He deflected both blades with an explosive movement.
The impact echoed across the courtyard like thunder.
"Enough."
His voice was no longer theatrical.
It was pure authority.
Phoebrus's golden eyes shone intensely.
"Remember one thing, Telvaris."
Phoebrus stared at him.
"Supervisors only fight when two equivalent forces collide."
Silence returned.
"And if you insist…"
A small pause.
"on raising that scythe against him again…"
His smile vanished.
"I will kill you myself."
Telvaris hesitated.
The crowd held its breath.
Then he stepped back.
Slowly.
Éreon sheathed his sword.
And continued walking.
As if nothing had happened.
Telvaris watched as he disappeared down the corridor.
Then he looked at Phoebrus.
"You are fourteen years old."
His voice was cold.
"Do you think you can protect him forever?"
He turned slowly.
"When you fail your trial…"
"I will kill him myself."
A pause.
"So you will not feel alone."
Phoebrus laughed.
Loud.
Genuinely amused.
"Are you worried about me?"
He shrugged.
"If you managed to come back…"
"why wouldn't I?"
The bell rang three times.
13:00.
Training time.
Phoebrus snapped his fingers.
"The show is over."
His smile returned.
"Arena."
"Now."
The children began to move.
While Telvaris led the new orphans away, Phoebrus walked toward the orphanage's main building.
The internal corridor was long and dimly lit. The distant sound of footsteps and voices echoed through the stone walls.
He passed through two metal doors until he reached the collective dormitories.
Rows of iron bunk beds lined the walls.
Numbered metal lockers completed the austere environment.
Everything cold.
Impersonal.
Military.
He found Éreon standing before an open locker.
Inside were only black uniforms.
Nothing else.
Phoebrus leaned against the bunk beside him.
Observing the fresh scars on the boy's body.
"New tattoos?"
Éreon did not answer.
But when he turned, something caught Phoebrus's attention.
A small mark.
On his shoulder.
A black half-moon.
Phoebrus froze for a moment.
That had not been there before.
But when he noticed Éreon's cold eyes fixed on him, Phoebrus simply smiled.
"My offer still stands."
Éreon did not answer.
He only stared at him.
Cold.
Silent.
For a brief moment, the dormitory seemed smaller.
Phoebrus held the gaze… then let out a small laugh.
His laughter echoed through the dormitory, too light for that place.
But something in his eyes had changed.
The lightness was gone.
Now there was curiosity.
"I heard you asked the director to participate in the mission in the County of Caeté."
It was only for an instant.
But Phoebrus noticed.
Éreon's expression changed.
A heavy silence fell in the room.
Éreon lay down on the bunk.
His gaze fixed on the ceiling.
There was something dark in his thoughts.
As if that name had awakened something ancient.
Something dangerous.
Before Phoebrus could ask more, footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Supervisors were leading the new orphans.
Phoebrus walked to the door.
Before leaving, his eyes met those of a newly arrived boy.
Amber eyes.
Shining like fire trapped in wood.
Phoebrus smiled.
The future moved silently.Uncertain.But inevitable.