“Close the door behind you, Pauline. I don’t want to be disturbed,” the scarred general ordered.

“Yes sir,” the Lieutenant replied as she walked out of Warrington’s office.

CLICK!

Warrington activated the lock mechanism on the door upon pushing a red button on his desk. The lights dimmed and the shutters closed down on all the glass windows and ventilation shafts.

The slim monitor flashed the words “INITIATING DEBUGGING PROTOCOL” in emerald green on a black background. Warrington drummed his fingers impatiently on his black walnut-made desk.

The debugging protocol was simply to send out a small electromagnetic pulse to fry any electronic gadgets nearby. This would cause all bugging devices to malfunction. The monitor shut down as well, proving that the protocol had been executed successfully. After ten seconds, a back-up computer started to boot up. It flashed the words “CHANNEL SECURED”. Warrington pressed his scarred right thumb on the LED touch-screen.

-FINGERPRINT MATCHED, ACCESS GRANTED. WELCOME WARRINGTON, WINSTON-

-Accessing Heaven’s Command Files, Report from Colonel Arnold Urbs-

Date, 25160608. Time, 04 16 hours.

Log of Urbs, Arnold. Colonel.

It has been seven days since the battle of Odina ended. Honestly, I still don’t know what we are doing here. There is no higher purpose, except to guard the borders. Before that, our orders were clear: Secure as many pockets of smaller towns before the enemy takes control of them and guard the City of Odina.

As of now, new orders have been given: Wait and respond to imminent threat from Phantasm.

Seven days have passed since then. Our recon team has obtained no valuable information regarding the enemy’s movements situated in Opolla. In my opinion, they might be preparing for something big, like waiting for reinforcements to arrive, or formulating a master plan to counter our strategies.

We cannot only rely on the powers of the Berserkers. Radiance is not, and will never be our only option out of this war. Those who wield radiance will know, better than anyone. I know. We have our own limitations. What worries me is the silence Phantasm has been showing us. They could be analysing each of our radiance as of now, formulating counter-strategies against us. With the ability to conceptualise and fuel that monstrous technology, I would say that their intelligence might have far surpassed our expectations, even that of our own abilities.

We must remain vigilant, even when the Kingdom has joined forces with us. More people living together would mean more friction between one another. After all, every country has her own agenda. We must remind ourselves that this is beyond mere co-operation. We are ensnared in this vicious political web. I find it dubious that the Kingdom has sent their prince and princess to war as well. It’s not consoling at all that the princess of the Kingdom is a radiance wielder. My guess is that the boy is too. Their powers have not matured yet, but I can still feel the surge in them…

Nevertheless, they are not to be underestimated. We were able to win this battle and obtain beneficial information from the Phantasm Prisoners-of-wars (POW) because of the princess’ command.

After five days of interrogation, we managed to phish out information from these POWs. Below is a detailed report on the interrogation and information collected…

… … …

[THREE DAYS AGO]

Water streamed down cracked lines of the jagged walls. Tiny droplets of water leaked down in constant intervals from the broken sewage pipe hanging on the ceiling. The room was dimly lit and any sound made was amplified with an eerie echo.

Cardinal Kolv’ka rested on a cold metal foldable chair. He placed his cuffed hands on the square table in front of him. Kolv’ka sat behind steel frames. It seemed as though he was in for a rough time. Then again, he was a prisoner of war.

“But better here than back there,” the Cardinal thought.

Kolv’ka was a smart man. He had seen much brutality during his years in the military and even experienced some of it before. He knew what failure would taste like (literally) under his direct commander, Overlord Shil’Va Slandarma’an.

“Salty, with a tinge of sourness in the mouth,” he thought to himself, “but soon after, the pain would numb the senses. That’s not something to look forward to.”

He only enlisted to feed his family. Due to the prolonged drought back in his village, Kolv’ka could never grow decent crops to feed them. In fact, no crops could even sprout in those conditions. Enlisting into the military was his only option. Kolv’ka slogged hard for the military, finally being branded with an additional line on his neck recently.

“Finally, after seven years, another promotion,” Kolv’ka muttered under his breath, reminiscing his past life in the military.

However, he reminded himself that the promotion would mean nothing after their surrender to a fierce, miraculous force. He, of all people, was not about to admit defeat in front of his ruthless commander, that they were crushed by a force they cannot explain. A force of mother nature herself – collapsing skyscrapers and emerging labyrinths under the city.

Slow footsteps echoed distantly in the basement he was confined in. A shadow crept down the stairwell.

Kolv’ka’s eyes flitted up. The man was already sitting in front of him, right leg crossed over the left elegantly. He rested his exquisite black cane next to the metal table. The jewels on the cane handle sparkled in the dimly lit room.

(He’s fast, and too damn overly dressed…)

“Pardon me for my uninvited intrusion into your humble dwelling,” the tanned man spoke unhurriedly, in a mellowed tone and a strong British accent. He took off his top-hat and placed it neatly to the left of the table. He was wearing a pair of white gloves.

“My name is Edward Elliot. Bonjour, my friend from the south.”

Edward was dressed in an early twentieth century era suit. Edwardian era, to be exact. Black coat, black vest, a white cashmere shirt and a grey ascot hung handsomely around his neck. Black trousers and matching oxfords.

Edward read between the silence and continued on, “or perhaps, Pomza, in your native tongue?”

“Pomza. Yfullah.”

The greeting came out coarse from Kolv’ka’s throat.

Edward gave a soft, cheery chuckle, “Yfullah, indeed. May the heavens meet the earth for you. What a beautiful verse.”

The prisoner of war made eye contact with the gentleman. ”What do you want?” he spat.

“Oh how rude of me!” Edward exclaimed, “let me remove those barbaric chains off you first.”

It was weird, to say the very least. Kolv’ka was a soldier after all, trained and conditioned in the harshest of environments. It would seem that this noble intellectual was aware of the facts himself. Yet the gentleman went ahead to release Kolv’ka from his cuffs. Kolv’ka could overpower him with a finger.

The unkempt prisoner gawked at Edward suspiciously.

“Are you not afraid that I would harm you?” Kolv’ka hissed.

Edward shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly. “Let’s not get to that, friend. I’m not quite a fan of violence. I’m here as a friend, not an enemy. If you don’t see it that way, so be it. Snap my neck now if you want to. Snatch the keys away from my pockets and breakout.”

Kolv’ka scoffed.

Reading his mind, Edward continued, “I bought the guards out for a nice little coffee break and won’t be back until midnight. So it’s just you and me, in this lovely basement.”

It was a tempting offer. What could this privileged noble know about hand-to-hand combat? It would be a piece of cake. An invitation to flee from this prison. It was an offer for a free life. Yet something held Kolv’ka back. There was something about this man which intrigued him. Kolv’ka’s heightened instincts kept nagging at the back of his consciousness — this man is dangerous.

It did not seem that way though. Right in front of him was a bubbly individual who had a sense of elegance and style. He seemed no more a threat than a child carrying textbooks.

“You know, it’s an ancient tradition to introduce your name when one wishes you Yfullah. I don’t think you’ve forgotten all that culture, do you, soldier?”

Kolv’ka moved his head up slowly and stared at Edward. He was flooded internally with emotions of the past, a time before he sold his soul to the military. He wondered what would happen to his family and friends from his village. If his commander knew he surrendered, what was the worst that could happen to them? He cursed the stranger sitting in front of him for it was he who brought back strong feelings from the past which was already long forgotten. Yet, maybe because of the same man, he could be salvaged spiritually.

Because of his fear of his overlord, he had put his family and friends into jeopardy, along with countless others who surrendered with him. How could he have forgotten all about his only reason to fight? Now it was all gone… All gone…

“Kollingre Kolv’ka. That’s my name,” he whispered.

“That’s a very unusual tattoo you have on your neck, Kollingre,” Edward pointed at the cross within the circle tattoeo-ed on Kolv’ka’s neck, “I believe that was your rank, Kollingre.”

Edward emphasised on ‘was’.

“Cardinal. Second only to my Overlord.” Kolv’ka replied.

“Fascinating! Tell me more of your previous life, Kollingre. Remember, you are not a solider but a free man now.” Edward looked pointedly at Kolv’ka’s rough but unrestrained hands. Looking back at Kolv’ka, he smiled politely. “Then later on, we will chat about your life which you have almost forgotten. I think you have so much you want to remember, is that right?”

In the basement of the military outpost of the City Hunters, Kolv’ka and Edward Elliot chatted till daybreak. This went on for days.

Back in General Warrington’s office, the commander-in-chief deactivated the supercomputer and clicked a button on the phone on his walnut-made desk.

“Pauline, assemble the board and connect me to Quinn.”

Over the phone, Pauline clarified, “Yes, Sir. But the Defence Minister is having another meeting now. Would you like me to leave a message to his secretary?”

The general stood up and adjusted his army green peaked cap.

“Then I guess I would make a personal visit to the Minister’s office. Prepare the car.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh and I’ve signed the papers already. They’re on my desk. Take this to Heaven’s Command and execute the deployment. You know how to handle this, Pauline… It’s top secret X-classified.”

The general exited his office, leaving behind a file neatly placed on his desk. Clipped to the front of the file was a photo of a teenage boy. The file was titled “Nyx, Ezerka”.

It was the end of the afternoon shift. The replacement duty officer entered the Operations Room and sat his cup of coffee on his desk.

“Any updates, Corporal?”

“No, Sir. Still the same status.”

Almost immediately, the corporal’s computer flashed.

“Sir, we just received a new transmission from HQ Command,” the Corporal on shift updated his commander, “it’s coded, Sir. An officer’s authorisation number is required.”

The officer on duty hurried to the Corporal. A transmission which required an officer’s verification code was usually important orders sent down by HQ Command. It meant that the troopers were in business once again.

The officer leaned down and supported his weight on the Corporal’s chair. He said, “Authorisation code, Hotel Sierra one-zero-eight-five Zulu, Lieutenant James Jappard.”

The computer prompted another authorisation code after the first was entered.

“It’s a double encryption, Sir.”

“Damn.”

Double encryption meant that the information transmitted was of ‘Secret’ category or higher. But that was not the issue for Lieutenant Jappard. He required the senior duty officer’s authorisation code and that day’s duty officer had an extremely bad temper.

The lieutenant picked up his transceiver and spoke into it, “Captain Kilo, sir. We need you in the Operations Room immediately.”

The reply exploded in their ears, “DIDN’T I TELL YOU NOT TO DISTURB ME! I WILL ENTER AND EXIT THE ROOM AS AND WHEN I LIKE!”

Lieutenant Jappard winced.

“Sir, I wouldn’t disturb you unless it was extremely necessary. HQ Command just sent in a double-encrypted transmission…”

“Well… I’m not coming down just because of a double encrypted message. Hotel Sierra two-niner-niner-eight Foxtrot. Just punch it in! Now, don’t disturb me!”

Captain Kilo hung up the receiver on the other end.

“Do as he says, Corporal.”

Once again, the computer prompted for another code. This time round, the background on the computer screen was different. The lieutenant and the corporal stared blankly at the golden ankh - a cross with a handle. They were too stunned to respond.

“Three Codex verification required,” the computer prompted.

“Oh shit…” Jappard muttered under his breath.

“What’s wrong, Sir?” the corporal queried confusedly.

Captain Kilo was going to be in major trouble for not reporting for duty in the Operations Room and for carelessly providing his authorisation code. More importantly, the soldiers were about to experience major changes to the current status in the city.

Jappard took in a deep breath before giving down the order, “comms the Colonels. All three of them.”

The poor corporal on duty was still confused by the situation.

“Why? Is it a big problem?”

“Do it now, Corporal! This is an order!” Jappard frantically exclaimed.

He stared at the computer in disbelief. The Ops Room had received a Top Secret X-Classified transmission – the most confidential and important classification of information, directed to the Colonels of Heaven’s Command. Things were going to be vastly different from now onward.