Diablo stood at the front line, positioned at the upper part of the formation where all the soldiers had assembled. This was no ordinary drill—it was an emergency, a serious one. The commander's face was grim, reflecting the gravity of the situation. Lucas stood by his side, his expression equally serious.
It had been a long time since such a look had been seen.
Then, without a word, the commander's order echoed through the ranks.
"All soldiers!"
The entire force began to move in unison. It was time to march. The soldiers began their synchronized steps—three forward, three again, two backward, one sideways, and then forward again. They moved with precision, each step a testament to their discipline.
As the march continued, the rhythmic sound of their movement filled the air. They did not chant, but there was an underlying unity in their motion. With each coordinated step, they reached a sudden halt—led by a tall, imposing figure at the front. Their march ended with a salute, a silent acknowledgment of their readiness.
Immediately, the march came to a halt. The commander's voice rang out sharply, cutting through the tension.
"Legions!"
"Yes, Commander," they all responded almost in unison, their voices steady. The soldiers stood still, expressionless, while the commander continued his reprimand.
He shifted his stance, moving his toes with serious intent, his face impassive. Diablo, however, stood a little more relaxed than before, his expression lighter—a subtle defiance that even Lucas couldn't ignore. Lucas, unaware, had unknowingly taken him to Grace instead of leaving him in the grass. A small but significant mistake, one Lucas would regret if he knew.
Finally, the commander spoke again, his tone grave.
"We will be selecting twelve of you—twelve capable members for an important mission. Lucas will be guiding you in this emergency." He paused, ensuring everyone's attention.
"Last night, two hundred people were killed by an unknown assassin. Our objective is clear—we must find this killer."
Diablo's lips curled into a smile.
"Assassin, huh," he said to himself. It had been a long time since such a name was heard.
The commander continued, his voice unwavering.
"The killer has been tracked, and we will follow this lead to their location. This is where the real work begins."
The commander's eyes swept over the large group of soldiers.
"Now, the reason for choosing twelve members is simple. If one person could kill two hundred overnight in secret and was found out five hours after his disappearance, then one soldier cannot possibly face him alone. We must work together."
He raised his voice, looking at each soldier in turn.
"Is that understood, soldiers?"
The soldiers matched before responding in unison,
"Yes, Commander!"
"Now, we will quickly select the remaining members," the commander said sharply. "The bus will be arriving any moment now, and we need to move fast. Every second we waste here means more lives lost out there. Understood, soldiers?"
"Yes, Commander!" they all responded in unison, their voices firm and resolute.
"We won't be taking any extra clothes with us," the commander continued, his voice steady. "This is a survival mission. I'm sorry, but it's also an emergency, and part of your training. The only supplies we'll bring are minimal food rations to help us survive. I won't be coming with you myself—someone needs to stay behind to support the city. We can't all leave, and if something happens, we need to be prepared."
He paused for a moment, letting the weight of the situation settle.
"Remember, this assassin likely has companions. If another emergency arises, we'll select a new member to step in. Now, when your name is called, step forward immediately."
The soldiers responded as one.
"Yes, Commander."
The commander spoke once more, his voice cutting through the air.
"We will be selecting five higher-ranked soldiers to join this mission. These individuals will be granted additional powers, excluding healing abilities we are all already gifted with. The remaining seven will be soldiers of normal rank. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Commander!" they responded in unison.
The commander then called out,
"Step forward, Lucas."
Diablo had already anticipated this. As second in command, Lucas was naturally the first to be called.
The other four selected members were already arranging the necessary supplies into the bus as it neared their location.
"David."
"Jude."
"Trail."
The commander continued to call out names, one after another. Diablo couldn't help but roll his eyes. If the commander knew they were only selecting twelve people from this sea of soldiers, why had he called everyone in the first place? At least he could have just called the twelve members directly. It would've saved time—time Diablo could've used to properly digest the meal he had just eaten minutes ago.
"Void."
The place fell silent. The new member had been called. Diablo's lips curled again—he had expected this as well. Void was no one to joke with, not at all.
As Diablo was about to voice another thought in his mind, he suddenly heard a name that stunned him.
"Sage."
A ripple of surprise spread through the group. Eyes widened, faces filled with shock. Mr. Failure himself was being called out. Diablo instinctively slammed the back of his head with his palm, wondering why they were calling him. Surely, it wasn't because of the mission—he must've just forgotten to stand up straight, lost in thought as usual.
He straightened quickly, walking toward the front with his usual twitching gait. The commander spoke quietly, almost casually,
"Sage will be joining them."
Diablo stopped in his tracks, disbelief written all over his face.
It was as if different thoughts rang in every head.
What could Mr. Failure possibly contribute to this mission?
Why was he picked?
The commander's voice broke through the thoughts.
"Sage will be joining them as the food planner. Who saved the food you all ate last night?"
The place fell into an awkward silence. The commander looked around, his eyes narrowing as he realized no one had an answer. He turned to face the group again, a soft chuckle escaping him.
"Who saved that food last night?" he repeated. "The one who did would be the perfect candidate for this job. Someone like him could preserve food for an entire squad—and risk his life for it."
Diablo knew exactly what the commander meant, but he didn't respond. He knew it was a dig, a subtle jab at his own reputation. What a fool to think otherwise.
Finally, the bus arrived, its wheels screeching to a halt, signaling the start of their mission.
This was it.