Venetus placed a scroll on the table and closed his eyes. The music radio echoed inside the room and filled his mind with tranquillity. The papery smell tickled his nose. He inhaled, exhaled, and repeated the process, trying to stop thinking about everything.

The ticking of the clock indicated the passing of time. He opened his eyes and tidied himself. Before he could exit the study room, a knocking interrupted him. The door opened and revealed an officer saluting him.

"How is it?" Venetus said.

"The Arachna tide is annihilated."

"What about the Exsupero?"

"The automaton fortress can last for another month."

"Send the detail and tell me the reason for your visit." The commanders wouldn't bother him if nothing significant happened, let alone an officer.

"A request from Sector A. It requires your presence."

"Who is the sender?"

"She said she's your friend."

"Shift the signal to me and fetch me more documents."

"Yes, sir."

The officer saluted and walked away. Venetus watched him went out of sight before heading back. The warm, dusty vibe enveloped him. With merely one ceiling fan, it would have been stuffy if not for the impeccable room design.

He took out from a drawer a metallic button and placed it on the desk. He removed his outer military uniform and hung it by his chair, unfastening his necktie and adjusting his posture. His fingers moved, tapping the desk in a strange rhythm. He glanced at the clock. Before long, he selected a stack of books and began reading.

He had no idea how long he had been reading and taking notes. He didn't care.

A vibration shook him out of his concentration. The button bounced on the desk, glowing in blue light. It spun and softly landed. Its surface unfolded and assembled into a flat-screen, where a radio static rang.

"Venetus, it's been a while."

"You too, Specria."

The static faded into a view. The blue light merged into colourful particles, revealing the transmitted video. A lady donned in casual wear sat on her sofa while drinking an exotic multi-coloured drink. She adjusted her clothes when she saw Venetus.

"Can you see me?" she said.

"You should be more careful about your image." He stood up and went to close the curtain before coming back. "Why the sudden call?"

She took a sip of her drink and moaned in satisfaction. "Just a little curious about your sudden flight."

"Before we get into the topic, how is she?"

"Crazy. A while ago she went alone into a C-graded hive and levelled it a notch. She barely escaped from the pursuit."

"At least we can talk sense into her now."

"I prefer her senseless and weak. Now, if she ever snaps, not many can stop her."

"But she won't."

"Enough of this." Specria leaned forward, her silver hair dropped and blocked her face. She fixed it, her grey eyes gleaming. "What about you?"

"Doing the same work, you?"

She went away and came back with a pack of scrolls. "I've been studying the myth and managed to learn a few tricks, the Ancient Vocal."

Language of the past, the Ancient Vocal, was the origin of spells. With every syllable tapping into the realm of Fons, they formed a silent, invisible structure that the conventional spell castings followed.

"I envy you," Venetus said. "If only I can use Fons."

"Your intellect ranks you higher than me. An Arbiter can't compare to a genius strategist."

"When you become an Authority, your status will be even higher than the Emperor."

"That old man." She gritted her teeth. "He is an ambitious fool."

The conversation paused. The anger in her voice permeated the atmosphere. Venetus didn't attempt to calm her.

"Have you confirmed it?" Venetus said.

"He at least permits it."

"Does this mean that Teacher—"

"I'm afraid so."

Venetus smashed his desk, cracking it with his fist. Though the blood was seeping out, the anger he felt numbed his pain.

"Sorry," he said.

"I understand. She's as important to me as to you."

"Allow me some silence, please."

Venetus disabled the screen-sharing and took out a handkerchief. He wiped the bloodstain on the desk then cleaned his fist. In the end, Teacher carried the weight alone.

"Teacher, why don't you tell us?" His words slipped out.

Teacher never cried, never complained, and never compromised. She rose from the thorn-filled imperial family and became one of the most influential figures within the Great Races.

How much stress and secrets must she bear to protect everyone?

Teardrops began to fall. With the same bloodied handkerchief, he dried his face and took a deep breath. He turned up the radio music and closed his eyes, letting it soothe his mind and bring him away from the moment.

Were the Great Races really worth saving? They sacrificed the minority for the majority. They would gladly send the blind, the deaf, and the children to wars for the majority.

Unfortunately, the past had become a forbidden topic and couldn't be openly studied. Even the imperial family didn't have access to the full building of the imperial library.

Venetus sighed and activated the button again. Specria was yawning with her arms stretched. A pillow behind her back, a blanket covered her. Her eyes were drowsy.

"Already back?" she said and strengthened her back.

"You still do the afternoon nap?"

"My brain works best at night."

"You used to talk with her at night, and it becomes a habit."

"I spent the night learning and yearning. It's been so long."

"It feels like yesterday, doesn't it?" Yesterday, she was still here.

"Today is a new day. New progress is made."

Venetus picked the scroll on his desk and laid it for her to see. It detailed an elaborated plan that the Protector of Northern Mistwood created.

"It's Pallear's work."

"That dragon?" Specria paused, her eyes tracing the letters. "I believe it isn't possible."

"Listen to me," he said. "If the Gods intervene, it's possible that they spared—"

"They would have told us."

"What if the Arachna—"

"No." It was a fate worse than death.

Venetus looked down. It was a long, suffocating, dull, and uncomfortable silence.

"It's all right. You need to let it go." Specria shook her head.

"The event is hazy. There is no first-hand evidence or any record of the battle. Her fleet got intercepted by the Arachna and fought against them in the last stand. For reasons unknown, the Gods descended. When we arrived, everything was gone."

The black, charred region became the boundary between the Arachna and the Great Races. On that land, nothing lasted. None dared to tread. The air was poisonous, the earth contaminated. Even Fons stagnated inside it.

The Field of Desolation was a monument of the infinite might of the Gods.

"We lost her, but the Arachna also lost a lot. They went into a rampage attacking Sector A, B, and the Capital," Specria said, the visions of the gruesome war flashing past her.

"Though it's nice to reminisce the past, let's get back to the topic at hand."

"I'll arrange a meeting in the next month. Is the timing too tight?"

"No, I only need a week here at most."

"The location?"

"The usual."

Specria nodded. "It'll be the first full-house meeting after a decade. I thought there won't be any more of it."

"The future is unpredictable. Maybe, Teacher might be hiding somewhere, bidding her time."

"Hope often leads to disappointment." Specria hugged her pillow, her head rubbing it.

"Be careful. If you spill the drink, someone is going to get angry."

"I can clean it easily."

A series of knocks interrupted the conversation. A forceful thrust pushed the door open, revealing an officer whose face was unusually paled.

"General—"

Venetus stood up, his eyebrows raised. "Get out."

The officer shivered and slammed the door close. His heavy panting seeped into the room.

"I'm out then." Specria sighed and grabbed the button. "Good luck on your mission."

"Hope you make a breakthrough soon."

The floating screen flashed before turning into a static. The button vibrated and absorbed the Fons. After everything subsided, Venetus cleared his desk and put back the scroll. The metallic and papery smell mixed inside the room and created a contradictory vibe. He opened the window, letting the afternoon breeze drift into the room.

"Come in." Venetus hid his injured hand behind his back.

The door opened. The officer saluted with absolute precision.

"General, urgent news!"

"What is it?" Venetus tightened his necktie, though it was hard to do with one hand.

"The scout team reports the third wave to be high B-graded."

"The Arachna doesn't have the number to fill—" Venetus paused. A thought struck his mind. His calculation was wrong. "Time remaining?"

"It'll reach us in four days."

"How did they slip out of our surveillance?"

"The Arachna has figured out our patrolling pattern," the officer said. "If not for our automatic radar, we wouldn't have known about them."

"Are there any army-graded Arachna?"

"They have at least the Demolishers, the Scrapers, and the Disruptors."

Venetus frowned. "Prepare an emergency meeting. I want everyone there in thirty minutes."

"Yes, sir," the officer said and saluted.

Before Venetus went out of the room, he took with him the scroll of hope, despair, and dream. Even if he were to die, he must find her.