Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Prince's Day (10)

  Orin’s face twisted with terror.

  Advancing toward them at an unhurried pace—almost savoring the moment—stood Morlem, followed by four men clad in the armor of the Church.

  Orin turned slightly toward his companions, about to whisper a plan—any plan that might give them a chance to escape—but Morlem’s voice cut through the air before he could speak.

  “You, red-eyed boy,” Morlem said coldly, fixing them with a predatory gaze. “Stay where you are. One wrong move, and both of their heads will be severed before my blade even slows.”

  Orin stepped back instinctively, putting distance between himself and Loki and Rick. His mind raced, searching for an opening—any weakness.

  Morlem continued forward, and up close, Orin understood something unsettling. This man was different from Varis, from Kane, even from Schedar. There was a raw, unmistakable malice in him, etched into the smile he wore so comfortably. This was not a soldier driven by orders or ambition.

  This was a man who enjoyed suffering.

  “I see the coordinates the Oracle provided were flawless, as always,” Morlem said with a delighted chuckle. “And here we are… the three academy escapees.”

  “You are a liar!” Orin snapped. “You had a deal with Hector! He gave you his sword in exchange for letting us go!”

  “And I honored it,” Morlem replied smoothly. “The agreement was to release you from the academy. Once you stepped outside those walls, you ceased to be his concern.”

  Laughter spilled from Morlem’s lips, echoed by the cruel chuckles of his men.

  “When Hector finds out,” Orin said through clenched teeth, “do you think he’ll still stand by you? You’ll lose everything you gained from that deal.”

  Morlem tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming.

  “I wonder,” he said softly.

  The feeling that seized Orin was unmistakable—like being trapped in a spider’s web, aware of the predator’s presence, powerless to escape.

  Slowly, subtly, Orin reached toward his dagger, testing whether he could draw it unnoticed. If he could create even a moment’s distraction, Loki and Rick might—

  “I see what you’re trying to do, boy,” Morlem said sharply. “Go on. Draw your weapon. Use your arrows.”

  His smile widened.

  “It’ll be more entertaining watching your hope disappear piece by piece. Besides…”

  He gestured behind them. A sheer cliff loomed, its depths swallowed by shadow.

  “You always have the option of jumping,” Morlem continued. “Unless one of you can fly, I doubt you’d survive.”

  Orin swallowed hard. He hated how right the man was. Surrounded on all sides, with nothing but a cliff at their backs, there was nowhere to run.

  Slowly, deliberately, Orin drew his bow and nocked an arrow.

  “You seem awfully confident I can’t hurt you,” Orin said, forcing steadiness into his voice. “That might’ve been a mistake.”

  Morlem didn’t flinch.

  “Then take your best shot.”

  Orin drew the bowstring back, channeling his focus.

  “ACTIVATE HUNTER SKILL: Piercing Arrow.”

  The arrow shimmered with a faint blue light as it tore through the air—straight toward Morlem’s chest.

  It struck true.

  Metal rang sharply as the arrow pierced Morlem’s armor.

  For an instant, Loki and Rick let out hopeful cries—hope that died the moment Morlem kept walking, the arrow embedded in him, his expression unchanged.

  “What…?” Loki whispered from behind Orin.

  Orin’s heart sank. He had seen the arrow hit. It had pierced the metal—hadn’t it?

  Morlem stopped just a few steps away and looked down at the arrow lodged in his armor.

  “Impressed?” he asked mockingly. “You thought a single arrow would be enough?”

  He lifted a hand and snapped the shaft cleanly, letting the broken piece fall to the ground.

  “My armor isn’t ordinary,” Morlem continued. “It’s thicker. Reinforced. Forged from superior materials. Even with a skill enhancing your shot, the blade simply isn’t long enough to reach me.”

  Cold sweat trickled down Orin’s spine. If arrows were useless… then what about his dagger?

  “But I’ll give you this,” Morlem added. “You chose the smarter option.”

  His hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword.

  “If you’d tried to attack me in close combat,” he said softly, “I would’ve torn your arm off before you finished your first swing.”

  Frustration gnawed at Orin.

  Morlem was right—charging head-on at a knight of his caliber was suicidal. But there were no alternatives left. If his bow was useless, then he would have to force an opening in close combat.

  He exhaled slowly, set the bow aside, and drew his dagger.

  It wouldn’t pierce that armor. He knew that. But he didn’t need to win.

  Just buy time.

  If he could keep Morlem occupied—even for a few seconds—Loki and Rick might be able to escape.

  The real problem was the men behind Morlem. They had spread out, forming a loose net that sealed off every path through the forest.

  “So you’ll face me in melee?” Morlem said, amused, his gaze dropping to the dagger in Orin’s hand. “Do you really believe you stand a chance? Or are you hoping to stall me long enough for your friends to run?”

  Orin didn’t answer.

  He glanced back at Loki and Rick, meeting their eyes for an instant. The message was clear.

  Run the moment you can.

  Then Orin moved.

  He closed the distance in a burst of speed, while Morlem advanced at an almost leisurely pace, shield and sword in hand—still not fully on guard.

  He’s underestimating me, Orin realized.

  Morlem sensed him just in time and swung his sword.

  Orin slipped past the blade with ease.

  A flicker of surprise crossed his mind.

  Wait… I haven’t even activated any speed skills.

  Morlem’s strikes were powerful, heavy enough to cleave bone—but they were slow.

  As Orin pivoted around him, the truth became obvious. It wasn’t just the sword. Morlem’s footwork was stiff. His turns were delayed.

  That armor…

  Orin leapt back, widening the distance between them.

  “I see,” he said, voice steady. “Your armor may be special, but it’s heavy. Much heavier than normal. It limits your movement.”

  Morlem said nothing.

  “You made a mistake,” Orin continued. “It’s true—I can’t defeat you. But I don’t need to. If I take out your men, we can escape easily.”

  Confidence surged through him. The target had never been Morlem himself.

  With his superior speed, he could strike the others.

  But instead of anger, Morlem laughed.

  A cold, humorless sound.

  “I see…” he said. “Then you truly don’t understand, kid.”

  Orin stiffened.

  “You warned me earlier that Hector would turn against me once he learned I broke our agreement,” Morlem went on, his eyes gleaming. “But it's the opposite.”

  Orin felt a chill crawl up his spine.

  “What happens next,” Morlem said softly, “will ensure Hector stands with us.”

  Every instinct screamed danger.

  Orin backed away until he stood beside Loki and Rick.

  “We have to leave—now,” he said urgently. “There’s something wrong with him.”

  He prepared to run, even if it meant charging straight through Morlem’s men.

  But before any of them could move, Morlem raised his hand.

  “SUMMON: War Drums.”

  The sound erupted instantly—deep, thunderous beats, as if hundreds of drums were being struck at once.

  Orin’s body locked in place.

  His legs refused to move. His arms wouldn’t respond. Beside him, Loki and Rick froze, equally paralyzed.

  Morlem laughed again.

  “I’m afraid you won’t be moving from here,” he said calmly. “So that speed you’re so proud of won’t help you now.”

  Orin tried to speak. His jaw trembled, but no words came—only broken sounds of rage.

  “You understand what happens next, don’t you?” Morlem continued, stepping closer.

  He leaned in until his face filled Orin’s vision.

  “Here’s something amusing,” he said. “The official report from my unit—the one that will reach Hector—will state the following…”

  He smiled.

  “We pursued a boy who had long posed as a citizen of Solaris, while secretly acting as a spy for the Star Children.”

  Morlem straightened.

  “…but the target, Orin Alpheratz, ultimately escaped our grasp.”

  Orin stared at him, eyes wide.

  Escaped…?

  What was Morlem planning?

  “I can tell by your face that you still don’t understand,” Morlem said as he took Orin’s dagger, turning it slowly in his hand, examining it with open malice. “You heard correctly… my squad failed to capture Orin Alpheratz, who managed to escape—just as we were unable to prevent the tragedy.”

  Morlem stepped toward Loki.

  The boy stood completely frozen, unable to even tremble.

  With an expression of profound contempt, Morlem drove the dagger straight into his throat.

  Blood burst from Loki’s mouth as his body convulsed once, then collapsed onto the ground. His eyes stared blankly at nothing.

  He was dead.

  “As I was saying,” Morlem continued calmly, stepping over the corpse as if it were an inconvenience, “the only thing we found were the bodies of the two boys who were traveling with Orin Alpheratz.”

  This time, he stopped in front of Rick.

  “And judging by the wounds that caused his death, we concluded that it was a dagger strike…” Morlem raised the blade slightly, blood still dripping from its edge. “Similar to the one the suspect was carrying.”

  Rick’s body remained paralyzed, but his face told everything—pure terror. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he realized what awaited him.

  There was no mercy.

  Morlem slashed his throat open.

  Rick collapsed beside Loki, his blood soaking into the dirt, his life extinguished just as quickly.

  “Our conclusion,” Morlem said, holding Orin’s dagger at his side, “is that the boys discovered Orin Alpheratz was a spy… and he eliminated them to ensure their silence before reaching their village.”

  He turned his gaze toward Orin, a cruel smile forming.

  “Now tell me, kid,” he continued softly, “do you really think Héctor will side with the traitor who murdered two academy students? Or with us… who warned him of the danger of leaving you alive?”

  Orin couldn’t move.

  He couldn’t scream.

  All he could do was feel the tears welling up, the frustration and rage tearing him apart from the inside. Morlem hadn’t just killed his friends in front of him—he had planned everything from the very beginning.

  “It’s truly unfortunate we arrived too late to prevent this tragedy,” Morlem said, feigning solemnity. “But their deaths will not be in vain. I swear I will capture Orin Alpheratz and the rest of the Star Children… and offer their heads to the Oracle as trophies.”

  Orin watched through blurred vision as the four soldiers accompanying Morlem approached.

  “Take the bodies,” Morlem ordered. “We’ll use them as evidence. This should be more than enough to initiate an official manhunt.”

  His voice hardened.

  “Very soon, Orin Alpheratz will be known throughout the Empire as a criminal. A bounty will be placed on his head.”

  The rhythmic pounding in Orin’s ears began to fade.

  His fingers twitched.

  His legs responded.

  His mobility returned.

  “You’re a bastard,” Orin said hoarsely, tears streaming down his face. “You won’t get away with this.”

  In an instant, Morlem seized Orin by the throat.

  He lifted him several feet off the ground with one hand, squeezing mercilessly. Orin gasped for air, his vision darkening as he tried desperately to kick—his foot striking nothing but solid armor.

  “I was curious what you’d say once I canceled Drums of War,” Morlem said calmly. “But I wasn’t expecting something so… dull.”

  “Sir,” one of the soldiers behind him asked hesitantly, “you’re going to let him go?”

  Morlem’s lips curled into a thin smile.

  “Of course,” he replied. “As I said, the suspect managed to escape.”

  His eyes gleamed coldly.

  “That is… until someone finds his body at the bottom of the cliff.”

  Orin understood immediately.

  Panic surged through him as he struggled, trying to scream, to break free—but Morlem’s grip was unyielding. Without releasing his hold, Morlem dragged him toward the edge of the cliff.

  “You’d better keep this,” Morlem said, stuffing the blood-soaked dagger into Orin’s clothes. “When they find you, I want them to find the murder weapon as well.”

  Orin couldn’t escape.

  Morlem lifted him high, suspending him over the endless darkness below.

  “Goodbye, Orin Alpheratz,” he said.

  Then he let go.

  Orin fell.

  Swallowed by the void, his body vanished into the darkness. As his last thought drifted through his fading consciousness, he realized that whatever great power slept within him, he would never live to see it awaken—just as he would never see Andrómeda… nor the rest of his friends… ever again.