Remnants

The sun hung high in the sky. It poured its golden light over the treetops, where the shadows grew shorter and danced with the wind. The heat was mild, but for Art, who still carried the consequences of the battle, every step was more difficult.

The damp smell of earth and leaves scorched by the conflict filled the air. Exhausted but resolute, the young Attack Mage pressed forward. He made his way through the forest toward the northwest of the kingdom, heading for the sewer entrance, where he hoped to find his companions.

The putrid smell of the sewers grew stronger with every step. Art continued forward, ignoring the burning in his nostrils. His body still protested from exhaustion, battling against his concern, which spoke louder.

The sewage treatment area was a reflection of the unknown magic that existed within the Dome. It consisted of seven large pools arranged along natural stone steps. They collected the kingdom’s waste before releasing it into one of the legendary Mirrors of Aurora.

There were three such lakes in Aurora. The kingdom’s inhabitants used the Central Mirror as a recreational area, where they entered the water to cleanse impurities from their bodies and relax, as only harmful elements were affected by the purification process while living organisms remained completely unharmed. Located in the Commercial Zone, many spas could be found among the shops.

The Northern Mirror was reserved exclusively for the King’s castle, while the Northwestern Mirror was the one located in the sewer region.

The silent magic of the crystalline water erased every impurity. The liquid shimmered beneath the daylight, radiating soft shades of blue and silver, the glow of the sky. It was a phenomenon as fascinating as it was enigmatic, sustaining the belief that those lakes were truly blessed, a gift the Dome bestowed upon the kingdom.

When he finally spotted his teammates, he felt the accumulated tension ease, and despite the deplorable state he found them in, he smiled. The Archer and the Shieldbearer were drenched in the filthy water from the sewage treatment pools. Exhausted, they hurried up the stairs leading toward the exit, hoping to find help as soon as possible.

“Diana!” Art shouted.

She turned abruptly, pleasantly surprised.

“Art!...” She tried to spot him in the distance.

The young Mage limped toward his companions and raised one hand in a subtle wave, prompting relieved smiles when they saw he was all right. As he moved forward, the dense vegetation of the Forest Reserve gave way to a vast open area where the sky stretched unobstructed above them. Sunlight, filtered through the kingdom’s protective Dome, bathed the area in an intense glow, forcing Art to narrow his eyes. The sudden contrast between the dimness beneath the trees and the almost blinding brightness made the moment even more disorienting.

Diana hurried a few steps toward her friend, a relieved smile appearing on her face. Her soaked clothes left a trail across the ground. As she approached, she hesitated and wrinkled her nose when she remembered the state of her uniform. She raised her hands as though trying to hold back her own smell. She muttered:

“Hm... maybe it’s better if you keep your distance.”

Art simply laughed and ignored her concern, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Nonsense!”

For a moment, the young Archer stood frozen, her face flushed, but she soon relaxed and returned the gesture. A relieved sigh escaped her.

“If you die from poisoning, don’t blame me.” She rolled her golden eyes, unable to hide her faint smile.

Sylvaine wrung out her long red hair. As the dirty water dripped from it, she looked at Art seriously.

“How did you escape?”

“Leader Kaela arrived and saved me.”

“What about Oliver and Kenno?” Diana asked.

“They’re fine. They should be here soon with the Leader.”

Knowing the Leader’s strength and capabilities, as well as the reputation for toughness she carried, neither of them showed any surprise.

The young Shieldbearer looked upward and sighed in relief.

“Uff! She’s going to have a lot of explaining to do. All right... Until they get here, I’m going to do something about this mess.” She pointed toward the purifying lake.

They all descended the long staircase and walked toward the final section of the Mirror of Aurora, where the smell was no longer bothersome and the water was clean and crystalline.

Diana removed her dark lilac jacket and undid the long braid in her hair. Sylvaine—with no patience left—plunged into the lake, desperate to rid herself of the filth clinging to her. Art sat at the edge, his boots submerged in the water as he looked up at the blue sky.

He reflected on the recent events.

The blue-eyed young Mage sighed, feeling the gentle breeze against his sweaty skin. The reflection of the sky on the lake seemed distant, as though it separated two realities: the peaceful world he had always known and the chaos that now threatened to consume him.

His mind insisted on revisiting everything that had unfolded since the attacks began. The enemy lurking in the shadows, the trap they had fallen into, the threats the Leader had confided in him... It was already more than enough to give him a headache, but there was still that voice—the strange presence inside his mind—that unsettled him more than any battle. It echoed through his thoughts, sometimes as an almost imperceptible whisper, other times as an urgent call, carrying a feeling he could not understand.

Time slipped by without him noticing. The sound of firm footsteps brought him back, and when he raised his gaze, he saw Kaela approaching with three soldiers.

The first was a burly man with a thick beard and a suspicious gaze. He wore the standard Aurora Force uniform, consisting of a long dark-blue robe over a reinforced tunic, its runic stitching reflecting the traditions of the Mages of the Order.

The ancient runes woven into the fabric and his gloves were not mere decoration. When surrounded by darkness or while channeling magic, a subtle glow traveled along the arcane markings. The clothing itself seemed to breathe with the flow of mana. His slightly wrinkled attire suggested that he did not care much about appearances. Despite that, he gave the impression of someone experienced.

Beside him, a woman with short gray hair walked with hurried steps and an impassive expression. She wore the old standard uniform for Warriors, segmented light-metal armor over reinforced fabric that allowed mobility without compromising durability. Her posture was firm, and in her hands she held a broad-bladed halberd that gleamed beneath the daylight. The weapon’s shaft bore marks of use and, much like her sharp gaze, revealed the experience of someone who had stood in the heat of battle countless times.

The last was a dark-skinned man with attentive eyes. He wore the armor of the old Shieldbearers, composed of well-polished steel plates over thick fabric. An elliptical shield rested on his back, its surface marked by subtle engravings. In one hand, he held the strap of his still-sheathed weapon. His careful posture suggested that he was ready to spring into action at any moment if necessary. His gaze analyzed the surroundings with precision.

Behind them, Oliver, the Swordsman from Art’s team, followed while grumbling, his expression filled with stress. He carried Kenno over his shoulders. The weight of the unconscious Support was a punishment he had not accepted gladly.

Sylvaine, still in the middle of the lake, scoffed when she saw them approaching.

“Tsk! I didn’t even have time to clean everything off...”

The Archer Leader approached with firm steps, sweeping her attentive gaze over the group. The wind carried the characteristic smell of the sewers, mixed with the purifying freshness of the lake. She stopped in front of them and took a deep breath.

“Everyone in one piece?” she asked, her voice rough but carrying genuine concern.

Oliver scoffed under his breath and looked away, the muscles in his face tightening. Kenno’s weight on his shoulders was nothing compared to what he felt inside. Art, sitting at the edge of the lake, looked at him with the serenity of someone who had already faced the worst. That was what irritated him most.

He—the Prince of Aurora—had been defeated. He carried the literal and figurative weight of failure, while the young Attack Mage, even injured, maintained his unwavering composure. His fists clenched. The humiliation burned...!

Diana noticed the tension and chose to ignore it.

“We’re fine!” she replied simply as she brushed a strand of damp lilac hair away from her face.

Before the Leader could say anything, Sylvaine abruptly rose from the water, her expression twisted with anger.

“You took too long!” she spat, her eyes blazing. “If you’d gotten here sooner, we wouldn’t have had to go through all of that!”

Kaela held her gaze for a moment. Her face remained impassive; Art noticed the shadow that crossed her eyes. He knew the truth. He knew the Leader had been forced to hesitate. Her family was at stake... And at that moment, she could not show weakness.

“The machine had problems charging. The launch was delayed.” The excuse came out with the ease of someone who had already rehearsed the lie.

Art said nothing. He simply watched.

Kaela subtly shifted her gaze toward him, as though searching for a reaction. Nothing! He would not expose her. The silence between them said more than any words could.

She resumed her usual posture, adjusted her gloves, and straightened her shoulders.

“Regardless, you did a good job. I’m proud of you!” Her tone was lighter, though she quickly added while casting a sidelong glance at Oliver, “Despite a few details...”

Oliver gritted his teeth, feeling his jaw stiffen with tension. His jawline pulsed under the force of the gesture, an involuntary reflection of the irritation burning inside him. He swallowed hard, keeping his expression firm, yet the rigidity in his shoulders and the slight trembling of his fingers betrayed the effort it took to hold back the response threatening to escape. Meanwhile, the Leader continued:

“Now, we need to return to the base. There will be a meeting later. A Velaro will be waiting for us at the exit of the sewer area, along the Rural Zone. We can’t waste any time.”

Art stood up, allowing his gaze to rest on Kaela for a moment longer. She had buried the truth beneath carefully chosen words, but he was not fooled. And from the restrained gleam in her eyes, he knew that understanding was mutual.

The Archer Leader turned away before anyone could make another comment, signaling for the soldiers to start moving. It was time to leave.

The group continued in silence toward the end of the sewers, where the putrid smell began to fade, giving way to the earthy scent of the Rural Zone. The exit was a wide opening in the side of a hill, where tall grass swayed in the wind. The sky, once smothered by the structures of the city, now expanded into a vast blue ocean, broken only by the silhouette of the magical Dome surrounding Aurora.

The landscape ahead resembled a rustic painting: rolling fields of golden wheat stretched toward the horizon, interspersed with smaller cultivated areas and little wooden houses where farmers worked their crops.

Fruit trees provided scattered patches of shade while streams wound across the land, reflecting the sunlight. Despite the serenity of their surroundings, tension lingered in the air among the group.

“Finally, some fresh air...” Sylvaine muttered, raising her arms as though trying to absorb the clean breeze.

“Enjoy it while you can. We’re still far from home,” Leader Kaela said, focused on the dirt road that would guide them toward the meeting point.

Oliver remained silent, his expression closed off as he continued brooding over his own thoughts. Diana glanced sideways at Art and noticed that her friend was lost in his thoughts as well. She sighed and simply kept walking.

Then a deep, pulsating sound filled the air. It was the characteristic sound of repulsion tubes activating before the arrival of a Velaro.

From atop the hill, coming from one of the Observation Towers along the kingdom’s perimeter, a Velaro descended elegantly toward the group, hovering a few inches above the ground.

These floating vehicles, used to transport cargo and soldiers, were a marvel of arcane engineering. Forged entirely from black adamantite, their surfaces absorbed light rather than reflected it. Their repulsion tubes, embedded in the base, released a thin mist as they converted the driver’s mana into energy, holding the structure aloft with an almost ethereal stability. Bluish runic engravings marked the sides, pulsing in a serene rhythm and revealing the flow of magic that kept them suspended.

When the Velaro stabilized above the ground, Kaela raised her hand, signaling for the group to board.

“Let’s go.” She had no patience for delays.

One by one, the members of the group climbed into the cargo bed. Art, the last to board, cast one final glance toward the horizon before getting in. Once everyone was settled, the vehicle rose gently and glided across the fields. It moved at a steady speed through the Rural Zone.

The wind cut across their faces, but no one said a word. The silence was absolute, filled only by the faint hum of magical repulsion and the distant sounds of rural life around them. Each remained immersed in their own thoughts, carrying the weight of the battle and the truths left unspoken.