Unholy Mandate

Smoke coiled over the ravaged forest, the sky above stained with streaks of burnt-orange dusk and flickering Solena residue. Judgment squad, bloodied and panting, stood their ground—but more stalkers began to emerge from the trees like wraiths. Reinforcements—and dozens of them.

Tsuki's chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. "Dammit," she hissed, stepping back into formation. "Didn't expect this many…"

Geo slammed his fists together, his knuckles popping with frustration. "No kidding. How many goons does it take to kill one squad?"

From the back, Hatori laughed—a low, rare sound. "Apparently all of them."

But just before the swarm hit—

A black blur slithered from the tree line—then erupted into a massive obsidian snake.

Its scales shimmering like oil in moonlight. It devoured one stalker whole in a flash, then whipped its tail like a battering ram, sending two more hurling into trees.

"What the hell—" Tsuki started, before hearing a familiar voice.

"Sorry for the delay!" Naru's voice boomed as he stomped out from the woods, grinning like a madman. "We let Neko read the map. Big mistake."

Neko popped up behind him, still chewing on jerky. "Okay, for the record, someone reversed the orientation. First number is north-to-south, not east-to-west! One of you dyslexic clowns flipped it."

Makoro cracked his knuckles. "Eh. We here now. We punch now."

Naru grinned. "Couldn't agree more." He extended a hand. "Viesanoo."

Viesanoo was a beautiful scaled beast. Whatever sunlight could sneak through the forest reflected off of the natural battle armor, and it's eyes were piercing. It let out a deep hiss, then spun in a wild circle—kicking up a cyclone of dust and leaves, shaking the very earth.

"Enzumaki!" Naru barked. "Stay with Makoro. Keep him from going full berserker."

Enzumaki leapt onto Makoro's back without hesitation. "Gladly. Kick their ass, Makoro!"

"YEAH!"

Makoro launched into the fray like a living battering ram. A stalker fired a thin Solena beam at him, which scorched part of his arm—but he didn't flinch. Makoro roared and body slammed the soldier through the base of a tree.

Neko pulled out his infamous Jackbox, grinning. "Let's see what fate's got for me today…"

He pulled a large pinfruit from the bag.

"…You've got to be shitting me."

Naru shouted, "You're a miss this time! Hands only, Neko!"

A small pout overcame his face, but he responded immediately. "Right!"

Neko dropped the fruit, cracked his neck, and dashed into combat—dodging a plasma strike before landing a clean jab to the jaw of another Stalker.

Tsuki wiped sweat from her brow, eyes blazing. "We can't let them have all the fun."

Geo grinned beside her. "Right behind you, Tsuki."

Judgment squad charged forward—Solena exploding in waves as the battlefield lit up once more.

Watching from a crag above the carnage, Feranir seethed.

"Pathetic," he growled. "Multiple Stalker squads wiped by two damn Memento teams."

His black eyes narrowed. "The academy's purpose must've been entertainment."

He dropped from his perch with fluid grace, boots crunching onto cracked stone.

"Enough games. I'm ending this myself."

Makoro spotted him and roared, charging like a freight train.

"Like hell you are!"

Naru shouted, "Makoro—wait!"

Feranir simply smiled. "Unholy Mandate," he whispered, bringing his palms together.

A shimmering black sphere bloomed around him—silent and eerie. Makoro's body looked and felt normal but he couldn't move a single muscle.

"Reject."

Makoro was violently launched back, slamming into a thick tree with a sickening crack. Enzumaki hit the ground beside him.

"Makoro! Enzumaki!" Geo yelled. His hands came together as a rock wall formed around the two.

Naru clenched his fists. "That sphere…"

Hatori's voice cut through the air. "It's a domain. A sphere of control. Anything within it obeys him."

Feranir chuckled darkly. "Ah, how clever. But I am… far more complicated than your summaries."

Feranir stepped forward, smirking. "You really think numbers will save you?"

Geo gritted his teeth and circled wide. "Spread out! Hit him from behind!"

Geo swept behind Feranir and slammed his palms into the ground, raising a jagged rock pillar beneath him—aiming to crack his footing or force him off balance.

Feranir didn't move. The rock pillar shot straight up—and passed right through him.

Tsuki's eyes widened. "Geo—he stepped back into his own domain!"

The shimmering sphere behind Feranir flickered for a fraction of a second as he phased fully inside it, like slipping behind a veil.

Geo cursed. "He can retreat into it whenever he wants?!"

Feranir appeared a few paces away, half his body sliding out of the domain's edge like a shadow peeling off a wall. "Correct."

He lunged—fast—forcing Geo to leap aside as the domain expanded outward like a pulse.

Hatori muttered under his breath, "He can attack, then pull his body back into the sphere to avoid counterstrikes… annoying bastard."

Feranir smiled.

"And now… let me show you something delightful."

The sphere crept forward—engulfing part of the battlefield. Knoxx and Neko were caught in its radius.

“Turncoat," Feranir growled, giving a devilish grin.

Dark tendrils of Solena wrapped around Knoxx. His eyes turned pitch black. His body snapped upright with a jolt—unnatural. Controlled.

“Knoxx?!” Neko shouted.

One of Knoxx’s daggers flew forward—deadly, no hesitation.

“What the hell?!” Neko barely dodged the strike, before returning his gaze at the boy.

“Knoxx! What are you doing?” Azumi shouted from the flank.

But he didn’t respond. His face was blank, eyes hollow and overtaken by domain.

Knoxx rushed forward, blitzing the jester. He thrust his arm forward, driving the second knife into Neko’s stomach. Neko collapsed, gasping for air.

Still entranced, Knoxx turned and charged at Hatori. He was fast, predictable and not himself.

Hatori side-stepped, exhaled slowly, and sent an uppercut laced with Resonant Flow into Knoxx’s chin—sending him airborne.

Knoxx landed and rolled—only to throw a dagger mid-fall.

Hatori raised a palm to slow it—too late.

A second dagger sliced across his cheek. “Dammit…”

Across the field, Tsuki clenched her fists. “We need to hit him directly. His domain doesn’t move with him when he attacks!”

Naru blinked. “That’s it! Force him out of the radius.”

Tsuki clapped her hands together.

“Shadow Manipulation.”

Dark tendrils of her shadow slipped along the ground, bending unnaturally as they approached Feranir’s sphere.

Naru stepped beside her. “Tsuki! If those go into his range, he’ll repel them!”

“They’re not going in.”

The shadows arced, curving upward like black serpents coiling above the sphere.

Feranir raised an eyebrow. “Curving shadows? No matter. My domain responds to the source. I’ll just close the distance.”

The sphere rolled forward, chasing the origin of the shadows.

He didn’t realize… they were just bait. The moment he stepped forward—

“Now!” Tsuki shouted.

Feranir’s eyes widened.

Azumi and Tsuki burst from opposite directions in perfect sync.

“You got distracted!” Azumi shouted.

Feranir turned—too late. Tsuki slammed into his ribs, knocking him sideways.

Right into Azumi’s blade. Her dagger drove clean through his chest.

He gasped, choked, and blood spilled down his front. “No—no… this… isn’t how it ends…”

His body collapsed, the domain shattering with a brittle snap before vanishing entirely. So did the black in Knoxx’s eyes.

Tsuki held her stance a moment longer. For someone so powerful to fall here... it said more about the APC’s arsenal than their weakness.

Silence fell on the battlefield, and the surviving APC forces began fleeing.

Judgment and Viper squads stood amidst the bodies, covered in ash, cuts, and sweat—but victorious.

Knoxx groaned as Azumi helped him up. “Ugh… What the hell happened?”

“You stabbed Neko,” she said.

“…I what?!”

“Yeah. We’ll unpack that later.”

Neko groaned, “You owe me so many pinfruit.”

Ringo knelt beside Makoro, checking his pulse. “He’s alive.”

Tsuki stepped forward, panting, but eyes still sharp.

“He’s dead,” she said. “Feranir’s gone. His domain collapsed.”

Naru stepped up beside her, wiping blood from his cheek.

“We just took out a high-ranking APC stalker.”

Geo nodded, grinning. “They’ll feel that one in Central.”

Hatori murmured, “This was more than a win. This was a statement.”

As the sun broke through the clouds overhead, casting gold across the battlefield, the surviving Memento squads stood together.

Two squads. One goal. One hell of a victory.

Inside a dimly lit stone chamber, deep within the Jon District’s underground outpost, four figures stood around a rugged war table scarred with scorch marks and ink-stained maps.

Durango, the elected leader of Jon’s inner circle, leaned over the table, voice steady but filled with fire. “Sachimo, Kurusa, Idachi—listen to me. The forces of Memento are out there right now, risking their lives to give us our district back. For us. They’re not asking for control. They’re asking for a chance—for all of us—to finally breathe.”

His fist slammed against the table, causing the maps to tremble.

“We’ve been nothing but pawns. Digging their jewels, fueling their luxuries, and bleeding for their council—who doesn’t give a damn if we starve, so long as their palaces shine.”

There was a moment of heavy silence.

Sachimo, thin and weathered, ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Durango… we understand. We all hate the Council. But they won’t be merciful if we defy them. Our people—” He paused, his voice cracking. “Our people are already barely surviving. They go to bed hungry. They work themselves to the bone for half a ration. We don’t need war. We need a damn miracle.”

Durango’s jaw tensed. “Exactly. That’s why we fight.”

Idachi, who was sharp-eyed and always skeptical, rubbed his chin. “You say that, but what’s the state of the war? If we commit to Memento, can they protect us? Or is it another one-sided sacrifice?” He looked pointedly at the map. “Joining them means making enemies out of over half of Alden. And we’re far from ready.”

Kurusa, ever the bridge between the three, leaned forward. “Maybe… maybe not. But Memento controls Galion, doesn’t it? If we could secure active food shipments, that alone could solve our starvation crisis.”

Both Sachimo and Idachi froze. Kurusa’s point struck like a stone to still water.

Sachimo finally spoke. “…If that’s possible. If Memento can truly deliver those resources… then maybe this fight is worth tipping the balance.” He looked up, eyes heavy. “We all hate the APC. That much we’ve always agreed on. It’s just a matter of how we free ourselves… and when.”

Durango's expression softened. He looked to each of them with quiet sincerity. “I’ve made mistakes. Siding with the APC… watching our people suffer while I nodded and shook hands. I see that now. I’ve stripped this district down to its bones trying to keep us afloat—but no more.” He stared at the floor, voice hushed. “The oppression. The beatings. The hunger. The lies. It ends now.” He raised his head again. “Memento’s not just an army—they’re a promise. A vision of Alden reborn. And I believe—no, I know—they’ll fight for Jon until the very end.” He looked to each of them, one by one. “All I need… is your support.”

Kurusa sat up straighter. “Down with the APC,” she said, without hesitation. “I believe in Memento.”

Durango smiled. “Thank you, Kurusa.”

He turned to the others.

Sachimo hesitated, chewing his inner cheek.

But then—he nodded.

“I trust you, Durango. If you believe they can protect our people—if you believe they can bring down this twisted regime—then… I’m with you. For the love of Solen, I pray you’re right.”

Idachi didn’t speak for a long moment.

Finally, he grinned crookedly.

“The APC has had their boot on our backs long enough. It’s about time we sent those tribute carts back with spoiled milk and rotted meat.”

Durango barked a short, joyous laugh. “Then it’s settled. I’ll notify Memento. Jon stands with the resistance. We’ll rally our workers, arm who we can, and reclaim our district—not as slaves—but as free citizens of Alden.”

The four clasped arms at the center of the table, as a new alliance was born.

Later that day, the battered Judgment and Viper squads walked along the stone paths of lower Jon—smoke still curling from parts of the battlefield behind them. Victory weighed on their shoulders like armor: heavy, real, and hard-earned.

The streets were already whispering, crowds gathering in pockets along the stone paths.

Then—Tsuki heard footsteps.

From the northern gate, Durango came running toward them, his coat flapping behind him, eyes wide with emotion.

“Judgment! Viper!” He stopped in front of them, chest heaving, and then—grinned. “Fantastic news! Jon has made its decision. We’ll join Memento. The people hunger for freedom!” He looked from face to face, his voice rising with passion. “The Council sees us as less. As poor. As broken. But no longer! The people of Jon will no longer kneel. We will fight... and we will rise.”

Geo raised a fist, smiling wide. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Tsuki’s lips curled into a rare grin. “You’ve made the right call. We won’t let you down.”

Naru leaned on his snake companion, nodding. “You’ll be remembered for this, Durango.”

Makoro, bandaged and still bruised, pumped his fist in the air. “Jon’s got punch in it after all!”

The two squads erupted in cheers and celebration. Even Hatori offered a nod of respect.

Tsuki noticed as the people of Jon began to gather, unsure at first—but seeing their leaders and Memento together stirred something in their eyes.

Hope.

Someone in the crowd shouted, “Down with the Council!” Another voice joined, then another, until the square trembled with it.

For the first time in decades… Jon stood tall.

That night, the smoke from the fires had thinned. The stars shimmered overhead like fractured Solena, scattered across a dark velvet sky.

Viper Squad had already turned in for the night, their laughter faint from across the ridge. Only Judgment remained by the low crackling fire—burnt logs glowing a dim orange. Shadows danced across their faces as they sat in a loose circle, their bodies aching but their spirits high.

Ringo stood just off to the side, fingers pressed to his temple, eyes closed in deep concentration.

A beat later, he grinned.

"Maro's delighted. Says Jon's support is a massive step forward for Memento."

Tsuki perked up, stretching her legs out in front of her. "Let him know the food better be extra good for Judgement and Viper squads the next few weeks."

That got a laugh from everyone.

Across the way, Knoxx sat outside the recovery tent, his torso wrapped in gauze, his right arm bandaged from shoulder to wrist. He stared into the fire quietly, then cleared his throat.

"Hey… y'know guys, I never got the chance to apologize."

The group turned to him.

"I'm sorry about earlier. What happened… with Feranir. I lost control. Let him get in my head. I nearly killed Neko. Almost turned on all of you."

Silence.

Then Azumi spoke gently.

"Knoxx… it wasn't your fault. We had no idea what that freak could do. It caught all of us off guard."

Tsuki nodded. "She's right. That ability wasn't like anything we've seen before."

Geo muttered, "Could've just as easily been Neko under that dome. Or any of us. You fought your way back. That's what matters."

Knoxx gave a soft nod, his jaw clenched. "Still. Doesn't sit right."

Then, from beside the fire, Hatori—calm as ever—glanced up.

"You coming at me was… unexpected. But hey, I did land a solid uppercut."

He raised an eyebrow. "How's that feeling, by the way?"

Knoxx groaned and leaned his head back. "Like I got flattened by a boulder."

The group laughed again, a bit harder this time—laughter that felt earned and needed.

The warmth of the fire reflected in their eyes, echoing the unspoken bond between them. They had survived. Together.

Ringo snapped his fingers.

"Oh! Almost forgot. Maro gave me a follow-up message."

He turned to the squad, his expression growing serious.

"Judgment squad's heading back to Zimala tomorrow. He wants to meet with us for next orders. With Jon secured and Zimala in our hands… the next logical move is Riche, but that's further into the future."

Tsuki tilted her head. "Riche… that's going to be a hard nut to crack."

Ringo gave a slow nod.

"Yeah. But there's something else. Maro's received reports—credible ones. There's been information leaks. Insider stuff. Someone in or near Zimala… is feeding the APC."

The fire seemed to crackle louder in the silence that followed.

Tsuki's eyes narrowed. "A traitor, huh?"

Ringo folded his arms. "Looks that way."

Hatori didn't speak. But he leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

Leaked intel. Someone close, and someone trusted.

Tsuki stretched her arms overhead with a soft groan. The tension in her shoulders finally seemed to ease.

"Well… we'll see what tomorrow brings. For tonight? We sleep. And we sleep good."

Azumi flopped backward onto her sleeping roll like a starfish, arms wide.

"Agreed. I'm gonna have dreams about that absolute dreamboat—Tona Norasachi…"

She hugged herself dramatically, eyes sparkling, an exaggerated blush flooding her cheeks.

"Those eyes… that scarf… that voice. Ugh, he's just—perfect."

Geo raised an eyebrow, smirking as he tossed a twig into the fire.

"Careful there, lover girl. You're about to combust."

Azumi sat up just enough to glare at him, her cheeks still flushed.

"Shut it, rock boy."

The group chuckled as the last bit of tension drained from the night.

One by one, they stood, nodding to each other as they headed toward their tents. Tsuki lingered just a moment longer, gazing into the fire.

Then she turned, stepping into the dark—her thoughts steady, her mind prepared.

Nobody knew what tomorrow would bring, but they also didn't care.

Because tonight… they were together. They were safe.