Epilogue

 A year later,

Kureha ran through the corridor of the Modar City Police Academy.
Her destination: Professor Loi's newly rebuilt office.
Loi was hospitalized for rehabilitation for a whole year. Watching him struggle to recover wasn't easy. But his hard work paid off.
He resumed his previous position. 

Opening the door wide, she stepped inside. Seeing him sitting at his desk trying to catch up on the work he’d missed all year made her laugh lightly.

She could finally cry, and she felt so much better.

 Kureha emerged from the office and her eyes were narrowed. She clicked her tongue and started making her way over to the crowd.
"We're leaving now," she said, waving them away. "Shoo, shoo! I have an important training session with my weapon, so goodbye, ladies and gentlemen."

She grabbed Zavisha by the collar of his jacket and pulled him along.
Ever since her father started dressing him up, more and more girls had begun to pay attention to him. For some reason, she didn't like it.

I thought that I stopped thinking about him as my weapon.

Then why am I feeling as if I wanted to keep him to myself?

She shook her head and headed to Training Room 1.

They stepped onto the platform. The simulation responded immediately, shifting the environment into a wide, stone-paved courtyard. 

They stood a few meters apart, facing one another.

“So,” the girl said, flexing her fingers as the armor adjusted itself around her arms. “You planning to go easy on me?”

Zavisha  gave her a dry chuckle. “You’d be offended if I did.”

She smirked. “You’re not wrong.”

Without further warning, she launched forward.

Zavisha raised his blade just in time to catch her strike. 

“Good,” he said, not flinching. 

This time Zavisha took the initiative. His strikes were heavier and deliberate. Each one testing her defenses, trying to push her off-balance. She blocked, parried and deflected as much as she could. Her smaller frame moved with speed and precision, dancing just outside the range of his sword, drawing him in.

Two warriors in dark armor fightimg without any negative emotions behind their slashes fought in the simulated ruins.
Breathing steady.
Eyes sharp.
Both smiling.

They charged at each other again.

 ***

 Snow took a deep breath. He was currently in one of the churches in Modar. The catacombs had collapsed, so the Order of Unification had to increase security at their current hideout, like the Academy. He sat behind the railing, by the church organ, observing the empty rows of pews and the altar from above.

He held a pocket watch in his hand and watched its hands tick by slowly. Even the seconds, the fastest of all, seemed unusually slow.

For once, time, which had felt like it was moving too fast, slowed down.

Emnild.

He hadn't heard his real name in ages. And certainly not from her lips.

As he reminisced, the figure of a woman adorned in a green dress emerged from behind him. "How are you, Snow?" she asked.

He discreetly put his pocket watch back into his jacket’s pocket.

He turned to her for a moment and sighed, his face, even though hidden under the white mask, a picture of frustration.
"Maybe you should dress differently. You're in church," he snorted.
"You're such an old-timer. I'm not surprised Mandragora complained so much when you two worked together." She pulled out a fan, spreading it in front of her face and gently fanning herself.
"For now, I'm at peace. I don't have to worry about working with anyone."
"You know, you have an unusual talent for losing partners. First, Mandragora died of old age induced by Excalibur. Now, you had to execute her successor, and you're alone again! But not for long!" She laughed.
"Unfortunately," he admitted wearily.
"Is there something you don't like about your new partner?" she asked, surprised. Snow's lack of response was a sign that he had many reservations about his new partner's involvement in the Order's activities. "From my perspective, you two are a perfect match," she said.
"Are you serious or is a good joke?" he asked without emotion.
"Didn't you notice? You both have an obsession with women. You with your lady and ruler, Lavana, and he with his princess.” Then, with a smile, she added, "Just don't let your love make your father jealous. Everyone should be treated equally."
Snow said nothing again.
"Hmm. Well, I agree the boy seriously messed up last year, but you have to admit he's put in the work. Maybe something will come of him."
"I hope so."
"Right, I hope so."
"Why did you even come here, Ivy?" he asked, wanting to bring her back to the point of this conversation.
She smiled seductively.
"To inform you that there will be a meeting of all the Enforcers. You are to bring Luke to it. Father's order.”
Snow turned sharply and clenched his fist.

***

 ***

The church was located on the outskirts of Modar City. Inside, there was a row of intricately decorated wooden benches. The moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows of the altar revealed a mysterious golden fruit held aloft by a woman's hands.
In the first row, a young man with light hair was kneeling down. He heard footsteps approaching him. Next to him, a man with a white mask and hair as white as snow knelt down.
"It's time," he said in a husky voice.
The young man bowed his head, and after a while, he stood up. The masked man showed him the way. They went behind the altar. There was a hidden passageway that led to the church's underground premises. The stairs stretched downward.
A gate appeared before them after some time. The man in the white mask brushed his hair, and a sword appeared in his hands. He put the sword in the keyhole of the gate, opening it. Behind the gate, the boy could see huge columns decorated with sculpted vines and strange creatures trying to eat the fruit hanging from them. When they reached the center of the huge chamber, he noticed lights from fires behind six thrones on pedestals, three on each side. Four of the thrones were occupied. The two on the right were empty. Everyone there was wearing a mask similar to the snow-haired man's.
In the middle, on a much higher pedestal with stairs leading up to it, was an exquisitely decorated throne, which this time was adorned with real vines. The young man couldn’t see the person sitting on it because they were hidden in the darkness. There was no light behind or beside them. It was as if they were part of the darkness.

"I brought him," Snow said, kneeling down and placing his hand on his chest as if greeting a king.
"I am grateful to you," the voice emanating from the throne, cloaked in darkness and devoid of form, replied. It was difficult to tell if it was a woman or a man.

"Luke," the voice said, addressing the boy. Upon hearing it, he immediately prostrated himself, his head lowered, unable to even raise his eyes to this awe-inspiring being.
"I have wonderful news for you, my child."
The voice reverberated throughout the area.
"Take your seats, Enforcers."
To the left of the throne sat a woman in a green mask. Next to her sat a man in a navy blue mask. Further on sat an old man in a purple mask, resting his hand on a staff. Snow took a seat to the right; the seat next to him was empty. The next seat was occupied by a woman in a red mask who sat proudly.

"Recently, due to the numerous mistakes we made together, we lost our companion. Arnold could have been a worthy successor to Mandragora. Unfortunately, however, he did not possess his mother's strength. Nevertheless, I would like us to honor his passing with a moment of silence."

Like clockwork, each Enforcer lowered their heads.
The silence was broken only by the resounding voice of the extraordinary being.

"Snow, my beloved son, did you witness your brother Arnold's final moments? I would like you to tell me from the sincerest place in your heart if he said anything that could harm our noble family."

Without the slightest flinch, Snow replied in his calm voice.

"No, Father. I helped him pass away peacefully before he could say anything to harm our good name.

"You are a good child. You have made a few mistakes lately, but your merits far outweigh any wrongdoing. Continue to strive to make your past mistakes forgotten."

"Of course."

At last, the figure turned its attention back to Luke.
"Luke, you have worked exceptionally hard this year. You have made tremendous efforts to stand before me today. I would like to reward you for your efforts in the best way possible, as only a generous father like me can."
Luke continued to look down. Sweat trickled down his cheek.
"I would like you to join us as the new Enforcer."
A deep silence fell upon the hall.
Though some might have had reservations, they could not oppose their father's will.
"You will not be a replacement for Mandrake. Nothing of the sort. You will receive a new mask and a new name. Come here, child."
Shivering, Luke rose and slowly moved forward, breathing heavily.
He ascended the few steps.
He dared not raise his head.
When he stopped before the majestic figure, he focused his attention solely on her shoes.
To gaze into their eyes would be considered a profound display of disrespect.
"Hold out your hands," the figure said.
Luke leaned closer and held his hands out in front of them. The figure placed the mask on his hands.
"From this day forward, you will be called Actor. Your symbol will be the crescent moon. You may descend."
Luke hugged the mask tightly to his chest. As slowly as he had ascended, he descended the steps leading to his father's high throne.

"As an Enforcer, you cannot fight alone. Snow has his sword, Ivy has her pistol, Graziano has his bow, and Lady wields a fantastic blade. Ray has an extraordinary dagger. If you are to join their ranks, you, too, need an equally exceptional weapon. Rejoice, for you have found a weapon with which you share a bond."
Snow clenched his fist at these words.
"Thanks to your strong affection for your chosen one, who will surely one day see the light of truth that our illustrious family illuminates around her, you have gained a weapon. Raise your head, son."
Luke looked up.
He froze.
A knight in black armor walked toward him.
His raven hair gleamed in the darkness.
As the knight approached Luke, he focused his obsidian eyes on him.
"Rise, son," a voice commanded, and Luke obeyed.
As soon as he stood, the black knight bowed before him.

"I am Piotr of Garbow, also known as Kruk because of my black hair. I am the younger brother of the renowned Black Knight, Zavisha.”
Luke's eyes lit up.
He hadn't expected such a fantastic gift from fate.