The wind swept down the mountain slope.
Cold.
Carrying the smell of blood and damp earth.
At the base of the trail, Telvaris stood still.
Arms crossed behind his back.
His gaze fixed on the dark forest.
No movement.
No sound but the wind passing between the trees.
Then the first rays of sun touched the top of the mountain.
The light slowly painted the stones in orange and gold.
Night was finally beginning to give way.
Telvaris did not look away.
He kept waiting.
Then a figure emerged between the trees.
He was the first to descend.
Bronzed skin.
Short white hair.
The black archer's outfit was torn in places, stained with dried blood.
Some wounds still bled slowly down his arm and abdomen.
His steps were firm.
Controlled.
But exhaustion showed in every movement.
Telvaris watched him approach.
In silence.
When the archer stopped before him, he brought a hand to his chest in a brief gesture of respect.
His eyes lifted.
"I'm sorry, sir."
Telvaris did not answer.
The wind passed between them.
Number One continued.
His voice low.
"Even with the plan we devised to stop him…"
A small pause.
"…there were many fatalities."
Telvaris' eyes remained fixed on him.
Unmoving.
"And the others?"
Number One let out a slow breath.
Then he sat on a rock beside the trail.
His gaze returned to the mountain beginning to light with dawn.
The answer took a few seconds.
"I couldn't protect them."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Telvaris remained still.
Without moving.
After a few moments, he asked:
"Did you go to the top?"
Number One shook his head slightly.
"No, sir."
"After his departure, I believed you would prefer an immediate report."
Telvaris looked away for an instant.
The mountain was now partially lit by the rising sun.
His voice came out lower.
"There's no rush."
A small pause.
"We'll still have to collect the dead."
Number One took a few seconds before speaking again.
His eyes remained turned toward the slope of the mountain.
"I walked a bit along the trail before coming down."
Telvaris frowned slightly.
"Go on."
"The number of survivors who passed by me…"
He made a brief pause.
"…was much smaller than the number who went up."
The wind blew again between the trees.
Number One continued:
"And the bodies scattered across the mountain…"
His gaze remained fixed on the top of the slope.
"…were also fewer than expected."
Telvaris finally turned his face toward him.
"What do you mean by that?"
Number One stared at the mountain lit by dawn.
The answer came calm.
"Nothing, sir."
The silence stretched for a moment.
"I just found it… strange."
Telvaris kept looking at the mountain for a few seconds.
Then he spoke:
"Keep this between us."
Number One nodded immediately.
"Yes, sir."
Telvaris kept observing the lit slope.
At that same moment, in the director's office…
The room remained silent.
Walls of dark stone.
A wide wooden desk occupied the center of the room.
Behind it, a large window revealed the mountain slope now lit by the first rays of dawn.
The director stood before the window.
Smoke rose slowly in the still air of the office.
A firm voice broke the silence.
"I came to make my report, sir."
A brief pause.
"The Ninth Shadow has already left the mountain, sir. He should arrive shortly."
The director drew on the cigar before answering.
"How many of them were among us?"
The Shadow hesitated for a moment.
Then answered:
"I cannot state with precision, sir."
A small pause.
"As ordered, we eliminated all those running in the opposite direction from the top."
"I estimate that around half of the orphans were taken down."
Silence settled over the room.
Then the Shadow added:
"I also couldn't help but notice that the Ninth Shadow's orders were different from ours."
Another brief pause.
"He eliminated even those running toward the top."
The director drew slowly on the cigar.
His eyes remained turned to the window.
The answer came calm.
"I see… but there isn't much to be done about that."
Smoke escaped slowly from his lips.
"After all, it is his role to eliminate any doubt among us."
Silence took the room for a few moments.
Then the Shadow raised his head slightly.
As if he had sensed something.
"It seems the Ninth Shadow is approaching, sir."
A brief pause.
"With your permission, I will take my leave."
The director did not answer immediately.
His eyes remained fixed on the landscape beyond the window for a few more seconds.
Then he spoke, with the same calm as before:
"Enter."
The director stepped away from the window.
Walked slowly to the dark wooden desk.
Sat down.
At that moment, the office door opened.
Éreon entered.
His steps were silent.
His eyes moved slowly across the office.
The director lifted his gaze.
His eyes moved slowly over Éreon's black attire.
The fabric was stained with dried blood.
Then his eyes met his.
"Report on your last mission."
Éreon faced him in silence for a moment.
Then answered:
"I selected the orphans I had been monitoring."
A brief pause.
"Those under suspicion."
The director remained still.
"During the mission, I let them act."
Another short pause.
"I wanted to see how far they would go."
Silence settled in the room.
Éreon continued:
"From the sixth day, movements began."
"Written codes."
"Conversations with slum dwellers."
"Exchange of signals between them."
The director narrowed his eyes slightly.
Éreon went on:
"On the last day, soldiers who do not normally patrol the poor villages appeared."
The director looked at him directly.
"So you eliminated them."
"Yes, sir."
A short pause.
"Right after gathering the war orphans from the village of Karsov."
The director remained silent for a moment.
Then asked:
"And how many of them were among us?"
Éreon answered without hesitation:
"I believe I eliminated most of them."
Silence once again took over the office.
The director watched him for a few seconds.
"Speak."
A brief pause.
"Some may have survived."
"There was intervention."
The director frowned slightly.
"Omega Unit?"
Éreon remained silent.
The director slowly released cigar smoke.
"I see."
A small pause.
"I will deal with that later."
He stepped away from the window.
"The plans have changed."
"You will not go directly to the county."
For an almost imperceptible instant, Éreon reacted.
The director noticed.
He walked slowly back to the window.
"I believe I have already taught you everything I could."
His eyes turned to the mountain in the distance.
"It is time to return."
Éreon remained silent.
His gaze was fixed on the empty chair before the desk.
The director watched him from the corner of his eye.
"I assume you already have some notion of the situation we find ourselves in."
The director turned his eyes to the top of the mountain.
"You will depart at nightfall."
A brief pause.
"But before that…"
His eyes remained fixed on the columns of smoke rising from the top of the slope.
"Go to the top of the mountain."
Éreon nodded once.
Without saying anything.
Then he turned and left the office.
The door closed in silence.
The director kept looking through the window for a few seconds.
Cigar smoke rose slowly in the still air.
Then he murmured:
"It seems it's going to begin."
The top of the mountain was wrapped in the cold wind of dawn.
Smoke from the pyres rose slowly into the sky.
The bodies of the dead burned in silence.
Some of the survivors fed the improvised pyres with pieces of wood.
Others simply watched.
In silence.
Before the wooden cabin, Telvaris stood.
Rigid posture.
Arms crossed behind his back.
Before him stood the fifty survivors.
Wounded.
Exhausted.
His eyes moved slowly across the formation.
Then he spoke.
Without emotion.
"Those who reached this point have fulfilled the objective."
A brief pause.
"Consider this a recognition."
The wind blew between the stones.
Telvaris continued:
"Now pay attention to what will be said."
His eyes hardened.
"All of you will enter the cabin."
He made a brief gesture with his head toward the structure behind him.
"And remember this."
A short pause.
"Everything that is seen inside must not…"
"and cannot…"
"be mentioned outside these walls."
The silence over the mountaintop became absolute.
Then his voice returned.
Colder.
"Those who dare ignore this warning must understand something simple."
A pause.
"Death will be waiting for you."
Telvaris' eyes then began to move slowly across the survivors.
Face by face.
They passed over several of them.
Wounded.
Covered in dried blood.
Then they reached Number One.
The archer remained still.
But Telvaris' eyes did not stop there.
They continued.
Until they reached the last of the formation.
Number 200.
The boy stared directly at him.
His amber eyes reflected the light of the fire burning behind them.
For a brief instant, neither of them looked away.
Then Telvaris spoke again.
"Enter."
One by one, the survivors crossed the cabin door.
In silence.
Telvaris remained outside.Still.Watching.
Time passed.
The sun slowly crossed the sky.
Night was already beginning to fall over the orphanage.
The sky was dark.
The first lanterns began to be lit along the stone walls.
Éreon walked toward the main gates.
His uniform was clean.
The katana rested on his back.
His steps were silent.
Then he stopped.
A voice came from behind him.
"As always… silent, Éreon."
"Didn't think of saying goodbye?"
Éreon turned his face.
Standing a few steps behind was a young man wearing a black assassination outfit.
Black hair, slightly long and unkempt.
His eyes, a light gray tone, seemed tired.
Almost bored.
As if he watched the world with constant disinterest.
Éreon looked at him in silence.
Then another voice came from behind him.
Calmer.
"You know the Ninth isn't one for many words."
Éreon turned.
A second young man emerged from the shadows.
He wore the same black uniform.
His hair was silver-white, straight, falling around his face.
A thin vertical scar crossed his face, from forehead to lips.
His golden-amber eyes were cold.
Controlled.
The first young man let out a faint smile.
"It still irritates me to know he killed the Ninth Shadow… and took his place."
Éreon remained silent.
His eyes met the golden-amber ones of the figure before him.
But the silver-haired young man spoke:
"The survivors have already begun to leave the cabin at the top of the mountain."
A small pause.
"Telvaris must not have liked your visit to the cabin."
Éreon looked at him.
Without emotion.
The young man held his gaze for a few seconds.
Then stepped aside.
Opening the way.
"Well…"
"I hope we can meet again."
Éreon passed by him without saying a word.
The great gates of the orphanage began to open slowly.
The metal groaned as it opened.
When Éreon crossed the gates, the first young man spoke again:
"If the information we obtained is correct…"
"Do you think he could eliminate him?"
The silver-haired young man kept looking at the dark road beyond the gates.
"If the director sent him…"
"then it's because he believes he can eliminate him."
A brief pause.
"After all… she was the one who asked for him."
Silence fell between them.
A few seconds passed.
Then the black-haired young man murmured:
"Things just became… complicated."
The night wind crossed the courtyard.