On the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the year 2033...
The world ceased to recognize its own name.
The country once called Brazil had vanished.
From the ruins of its former democracy...
A new empire had risen.
Tupania.
Far beyond the great imperial centers...
In the southern region of Caetvar, power remained under the rule of the local noble.
Between silent hills and memories that time had taken great care to bury...
A forgotten structure stood.
Its dark stone walls had remained standing for so long...
That it was no longer possible to say whether they had endured decades...
Or centuries.
The iron of the ancient gates had been consumed by rust.
The twisted bars looked like open scars carved into the structure itself.
The walls bore deep marks left by rain, by wind...
And by countless winters.
The wind slipped through the gaps in the iron gate.
Its metallic whisper echoed through the empty courtyard.
Withered leaves danced slowly over the stone ground.
Like little souls unable to leave that place behind.
An ancient cold dominated the surroundings.
As if time itself had given up on moving forward there.
Then...
A figure appeared in the distance.
Silent.
The towering walls grew clearer with every step.
Metal fences enclosed the grounds.
The heavy gate remained shut.
Imposing.
Like the entrance to a fortress forgotten by the rest of the world.
His footsteps were light.
Precise.
Even so...
In the emptiness of that courtyard...
Every step found an echo.
As he approached the gate...
The heavy iron structures began to move.
CRRRRR...
The metallic groan crossed the empty courtyard.
The ancient hinges protested after years of bearing the weight of time.
The gate slowly opened.
Fastened to the rusted iron...
An old metal sign had endured the years.
Even beneath the faded paint...
Its name remained engraved upon its surface.
Blackthorn Orphanage.
The young man crossed the entrance without hesitation.
The smell of oxidized iron...
Damp wood...
And cold stone saturated the air.
"They're here!"
"Alpha Group is back!"
The voices spread through the courtyard like a wave.
Doors were thrown open in haste.
Windows cracked open.
Small faces appeared behind the glass, searching for the same answer.
The young man kept walking.
Every movement carried a precision almost impossible for someone his age.
There was discipline.
Control.
And something else...
Something none of those childish eyes could understand.
His presence seemed to carry darkness itself with him.
He was dressed in black from head to toe.
Leather.
Reinforced fabric.
Layers made to allow swift and silent movement.
Strapped across his back...
Rested a long katana.
The hilt remained hidden beneath the dark fabric, while the black scabbard followed his every step.
It was not an ornament.
It was an extension of that silence.
The hood concealed part of his face.
Making it impossible for those watching to read his expression.
Behind him...
Twenty children walked in silence.
Torn clothes.
The marks of lives spent on the streets.
Some still carried fresh wounds.
Others simply kept their eyes lowered.
None of them spoke.
The wind crossed the courtyard.
And, for a moment...
It seemed as though the very presence of that group had brought the cold with it.
Soon the first murmurs broke the air.
Quiet.
Uneasy.
As though even those words were meant to remain hidden.
"He's back..."
"Alone... again."
Another voice added,
"How many times has this happened already?"
A third whispered,
"I've lost count..."
"Alpha Group never comes back whole..."
Someone answered quietly,
"Only him."
A brief silence spread through the courtyard.
"He just turned thirteen..."
The words carried more unease than surprise.
"Thirteen years old..."
"And he keeps coming back."
"While the others disappear."
The silence lasted only a moment.
Soon one last voice broke through the chorus of whispers.
"Maybe it would've been better..."
"...if this time he hadn't come back."
The words spread among the orphans like invisible poison.
Then...
A voice shattered the tension.
"You're finally back, Éreon!"
The contrast appeared almost immediately.
While Éreon seemed to carry with him the weight of every death that had followed that mission...
The boy approaching him seemed to belong to another world.
His golden, wavy hair reflected the morning light.
His golden-brown eyes shone with an almost living intensity.
There was no hesitation in his steps.
No fear.
Only a natural confidence, almost provocative.
He spread his arms in an exaggeratedly theatrical gesture.
A broad smile appeared across his face.
"Do you know how I felt these past few months?"
He placed one hand over his chest.
As though standing in the middle of a tragedy worthy of the stage.
"My bed felt so empty..."
Some of the children looked away.
Others held their breath.
Not because of the words themselves...
But because he had the nerve to say them at that moment.
The boy leaned in slightly, drawing closer to Éreon.
The smile remained.
"I think today we'll have to make up for all that lost time."
The entire courtyard seemed to stop.
Éreon remained motionless.
"Phoebrus."
His voice came muffled beneath the mask.
Cold.
Distant.
"Move aside."
"I need to deliver my report."
Phoebrus opened his mouth.
But before he could answer...
Firm footsteps echoed across the courtyard.
Toc.
Toc.
And in that instant...
The atmosphere changed.
An invisible pressure descended upon everyone.
The children immediately straightened their posture.
A man emerged beneath the shadow of an ancient stone arch.
Tall.
Imposing.
His broad, muscular frame carried the discipline of someone forged through countless battles.
His thick, unruly silver hair contrasted with a face marked by time.
A short beard covered part of his face.
His silver-gray eyes swept across the courtyard.
Without haste.
Children.
Supervisors.
Until they finally settled upon the two young men before him.
"May I know..."
His voice was cold.
"...the reason for all this commotion?"
Phoebrus immediately recovered his composure.
The theatrical smile still lingered on his face.
"Director, we were simply celebrating Éreon's return."
A brief pause.
"Leader of Alpha Unit."
He opened one hand, as though presenting a perfectly reasonable explanation.
"Everyone knows he has a certain difficulty expressing emotions."
A faint smile appeared.
"I admit I tried to provoke some kind of reaction."
He inclined his head slightly.
"Consider it a failed social experiment."
The director remained motionless.
No reaction.
"I heard..."
"...that you're a supervisor now."
The change was immediate.
Phoebrus straightened his posture.
"Yes, sir."
The director nodded once.
"Then behave like one."
"Yes, sir."
His gaze swept across the courtyard.
Cold.
Calculating.
"Here..."
A brief pause.
"...we don't need feelings."
"We need results."
His eyes returned to Phoebrus.
"If my memory serves me correctly..."
"...Beta Unit should be on a mission right now."
Phoebrus answered without hesitation.
"Upon learning of Éreon's return, I decided to wait."
The smile faded slightly.
"It had been months since I'd last seen him."
The director remained silent.
For several seconds...
His voice came out cold.
"Don't forget where you are."
A brief pause.
"Orphan."
Phoebrus discreetly lowered his head.
"Yes, sir."
"We leave at nightfall."
The director turned his attention to Éreon.
"The reason?"
Éreon answered immediately.
"By the law of the orphanage..."
His voice remained cold.
"Any orphan incapable of completing a mission..."
"...must be eliminated."
His posture never changed.
"Considering their inadequacies..."
"...I eliminated them."
The twenty children who had returned with Éreon instinctively stepped back.
As though only then remembering...
The kind of person who stood before them.
The director remained silent for several seconds.
His gaze swept across the twenty children behind him.
The fear hidden within their smallest movements.
Soon his eyes returned to Éreon.
"Is that all?"
Éreon answered calmly.
"I can report the details now, sir."
A brief pause.
"But it will take some time."
The director remained thoughtful for a moment.
Then he decided.
"In one week, I'll be back."
His eyes remained on Éreon.
"I want the complete report."
"And if it doesn't satisfy me..."
A cold light passed through his silver-gray eyes.
"...you will bear the consequences."
Éreon remained silent.
The director adjusted his black blazer.
"The supervisor of Omega Unit..."
"...will be responsible for the new orphans."
Without waiting for a response...
The director left.
His two companions immediately followed him.
The first had black hair that reached his neck, slightly unkempt.
His pale skin contrasted with dull gray eyes.
Beside him...
A young man with silver-white hair walked in silence.
His straight hair fell partially over his face.
His fair skin and controlled posture conveyed an almost absolute calm.
His golden eyes observed everything around him without showing the slightest emotion.
CRRRAAA...
The heavy iron gates closed behind them.
And once more...
The courtyard sank into silence.
But now...
It was a different silence.
Heavier.
Then, a figure stepped toward Éreon.
Dark skin contrasted with long black hair, partially tied back.
His golden eyes shone like heated metal.
In his hand, a long metal scythe reflected the morning light.
He stopped in front of Éreon.
For several moments...
He only stared at him.
"The ones who left with you..."
His voice was low.
But it carried restrained fury.
"...were my friends."
His hand tightened around the scythe's shaft.
The blade moved slowly.
"Give me one reason."
One step.
"If there isn't a plausible justification..."
The weapon rose.
"By the law of the strongest..."
"...you will die here."
His eyes never left Éreon.
"Now answer."
A brief pause.
"Why did only you come back?"
Éreon did not answer.
He simply walked past him.
Heading toward the main entrance.
The figure turned.
The scythe began to descend.
At that very instant...
Éreon's katana left its scabbard.
The sound of steel cutting through the air echoed across the courtyard.
The two blades surged forward.
Too fast.
A single instant separated motion from impact.
And then...
FWOOSH!
Phoebrus appeared between them.
His right hand closed around the shaft of the scythe.
His left gripped the side of the katana.
Both blades trembled.
The impact surged through his arms.
But neither advanced a single inch.
Between the two...
Phoebrus stood motionless.
"Enough."
His voice carried no humor.
Only authority.
"Remember one thing, Telvaris."
Phoebrus's eyes gleamed.
"Supervisors should only cross blades..."
"...when two equal forces meet."
His eyes met Telvaris's.
"And if you insist..."
His fingers tightened slightly around the weapons.
"...on raising that scythe again..."
"...I'll be the one who ends you."
Telvaris hesitated.
The crowd remained silent.
Then he stepped back.
Slowly.
Éreon simply sheathed his katana.
And kept walking.
As though nothing had happened.
Telvaris followed his departure with his eyes.
Only after Éreon disappeared down the corridor...
Did he turn back to Phoebrus.
"You're fourteen years old."
His voice was cold.
"Do you really believe you'll be able to protect him forever?"
Phoebrus remained silent for a few moments.
A smile appeared on his face.
"Actually..."
His hand ran through his own hair.
"I was protecting you."
Telvaris's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"When you fail your trial..."
"...I'll kill you myself."
A brief pause.
"That way you won't feel so alone."
Phoebrus kept smiling.
At that moment...
The bell rang three times.
Phoebrus snapped his fingers.
The theatrical smile remained on his face.
"The show's over."
He turned.
"Arena."
"Now!"
Movement spread through the courtyard.
No conversations.
The supervisors moved ahead.
The children followed immediately.
Telvaris led the new orphans.
Meanwhile...
Phoebrus took the opposite path.
Toward the orphanage's main building.
The sounds of the courtyard faded as he crossed the long, dimly lit corridors.
Only the distant echo of footsteps accompanied his walk.
Two metal doors later...
He reached the communal dormitories.
Rows of iron bunk beds lined the walls.
Numbered metal lockers stood beside each bed.
There were no decorations.
No personal belongings.
Only what was necessary.
Cold.
Impersonal.
Phoebrus found Éreon standing before an open locker.
Inside...
Only black uniforms.
Nothing else.
For several moments, he remained silent.
Éreon still had his back turned.
The dormitory's dim light revealed fair skin marked by fresh scars.
His short, unruly black hair fell to the nape of his neck in uneven strands.
Even without making a single movement...
There was something about him that revealed the training he had endured.
A body shaped by discipline.
"New tattoos?"
Éreon did not answer.
He simply remained still for a few moments.
Then he turned around.
His black eyes met Phoebrus's.
Deep.
Silent.
And it was at that moment that Phoebrus noticed...
On Éreon's right shoulder.
A small black crescent moon.
For an instant...
Phoebrus said nothing.
The smile disappeared.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
When he noticed Éreon's cold gaze fixed upon him...
Phoebrus smiled again.
"My offer still stands."
Éreon merely looked at him.
The dormitory seemed smaller.
Phoebrus held his gaze.
Then he let out a quiet laugh.
Far too light for that place.
But his eyes no longer carried the same playfulness.
There was curiosity.
"I heard you asked the director to take part in the mission to the County."
For the first time, Éreon's expression changed ever so slightly.
His eyes remained fixed on Phoebrus.
Phoebrus sustained the silence between them.
"Éreon..."
Before he could continue...
A voice echoed through the corridor.
"This is where you'll sleep."
"And, if you're lucky..."
The sound of several footsteps drew closer.
"...it's where you'll wake up at dawn."
Phoebrus remained silent for a few seconds.
"I'll be leaving tonight."
A brief pause.
"Don't do anything interesting without me."
Phoebrus walked toward the door.
A supervisor was leading some of the newly arrived orphans through the corridor.
Before leaving...
His eyes met those of one of the newly arrived children.
Bronzed skin contrasted with thick, unruly brown hair that seemed to defy every attempt at being tamed.
But it was his eyes that caught Phoebrus's attention.
Amber eyes.
Intense.
Like fire trapped inside wood.
For one brief moment...
Phoebrus smiled.
Then he left the dormitory.