Location: Unknown Chamber
Behind walls of black stone unseen on any known map, a silent chamber hosted a gathering of seven shadows.
A long obsidian table stood at the center of a room bathed in pale blue light—not from lanterns, but from ancient sigils faintly glowing on the floor. Seven figures sat around it, all cloaked in blood-red robes, their faces hidden behind masks and veils.
The man who had just arrived sat down slowly, then spoke.
"I've encountered Canis Majoris."
His voice was deep and calm, yet carried echoes of old wars.
An old man replied from the far end of the table, his voice like cracked stone refusing to break.
"And… is he still the same?"
"He hasn't fought in a long time. But his aura... still cuts like before."
A female voice responded, her tone stiff but wary.
"If he moves again… it'll ruin our plans. We need to be careful. Especially now."
A burly man leaned back in his chair, his voice booming yet casual.
"If he's a problem, then we all go after him. Easy."
But a calm, flat voice interrupted.
"Using our full strength now isn't an option. If we make too much noise, the Empire will respond with everything they've got. We'll be crushed before we even begin."
The man in the blood-red robe nodded slowly.
"That's why I need just one of you. Just one. To move with me. To take down Majoris—with minimal losses."
He looked at them all.
"We're not talking about an ordinary man. This is a former member of Tsar the Conqueror—the Empire's first warrior faction. They once conquered half of the Fallen Heaven… until they were pushed back by countless monsters that attacked in a single, coordinated night."
The burly man raised his hand.
"Then I'll help. With the two of us, Majoris won't escape."
But the woman spoke again, sharper than before.
"You're forgetting something. There's a greater threat to us right now than Majoris."
The old man turned slowly.
"You mean… the Frost Queen?"
"Shina Mariposa," the woman replied. "Captain of the Red Star Corps. The one who defeated the Fox Ghost. She's hunting us—and right now, she's the greatest threat. If she closes in, we'll be forced to fight before we're ready."
Silence fell.
Finally, the man in red stood. The pale blue light reflected on his emotionless mask.
"Then I'll make sure everything stays under control. Majoris will fall. And if Mariposa appears… she will too."
One by one, the figures around the table began to fade—disappearing into darkness like shadows melting away.
And the world once again braced for the bloodshed of names that should've remained buried in legend.
---
Location: Guild Hall – Late Afternoon
Sunlight poured through the grand windows of the Guild Hall, casting orange hues on the stone floor. Aron sat at the edge of a table, rewrapping the bruised arm. Grell leaned against the wall, gazing out at the sky beyond the glass.
Canis stood silently, eyes fixed on the empty mission board—his mind working to piece together fragments scattered by time. The silence between them was no longer awkward, just heavy—like the breath before a storm.
"Do you think they'll come again?" Aron asked quietly.
Canis didn't answer right away. He took an old scroll from a nearby shelf and unrolled it slowly—a map. But not a city map. This one showed ruins, borderlines, and remnants of forgotten conflicts erased from official Imperial records.
"It's not a question of if," Canis murmured. "But when."
Grell turned to him.
"And will you fight?"
Canis sighed, his eyes still on the map.
"They're not here to start something. They're here to end the past. And I... am a chapter they never managed to burn."
Aron straightened up.
"Then teach me. For real this time."
Canis glanced at him.
"You can still walk away, Aron."
Aron shook his head, stubborn.
"I've seen enough to know… if I run, they'll still come. The only difference is—I'll die without fighting back."
A pause.
This time, Canis looked at him longer. Then he nodded, slowly.
"Tomorrow morning. We begin your real training."
"...Wait," Grell spoke after a long silence. "Who exactly are you talking about?"
Aron sat up straighter.
"Someone who attacked us earlier. A man in a blood-red cloak. He… he was strong. And he knew Master."
Grell squinted.
"Blood-red cloak…?" He frowned, digging through memory. "I… I've heard that symbol before. But where…"
He muttered to himself until he turned to Canis.
"You know who they are, don't you?"
Canis didn't answer at once. He stood by the window, watching the sun dip into the horizon.
"Bloodminers."
The word dropped like a stone in the room.
"A terrorist group," Canis added softly. "Long thought gone… but they were never truly erased."
Grell raised his brows, slowly recalling.
"Bloodminers… damn. They were the top target of the Red Star Corps a few years ago. They even—" He looked at Canis with a mix of awe and suspicion. "But why would they come after you?"
Canis answered without turning. His voice was flat.
"We have history."
A reply too short to satisfy curiosity—but sharp enough to stop further questions.
Yet Grell couldn't look away. He studied Canis as if seeing him for the first time from a new perspective. The shoulders he once thought belonged to a simple guild officer… now looked like those of a forgotten warrior who had once walked through legend.
"I…" Grell hesitated. "I always knew you weren't ordinary. But… how strong are you, Canis?" He chuckled nervously. "I mean… who were you?"
The question hung in the air.
Canis closed his eyes, letting silence answer. Grell sensed he'd gone too far, and quickly pulled back.
"Sorry. I… shouldn't have asked."
Canis opened his eyes slowly.
"It's alright."
But no answer came.
And deep down, Grell knew—that answer may not be for now.
{Chapter 9 end}