7:15PM

The Slayers of Ordo University rode in a long convoy, composed of the 5th Battalion, 6th Infantry Division. Riding towards Gallery Street where they last met the Tormented Flesh, slain it, and put the boy to rest. It’d taken a monstrous effort—more than Alexander could understand—to prepare the battlefield for tens of thousands of troops. God, trying to process that number was mind-boggling. Ordo had a population of eighty million but that somehow seemed more believable than this.

The scope awed Alexander, and he felt insignificant, small. He’d thought back to his conversation with Leona, where they had bared their feelings, and her warmth had been engraved into his skin, kept him grounded like gravity. A subtle thought had itched him afterwards. What if? Oh, what if this, what if that, it was a rabbit hole of negativity.

He bit his lip and thought about something else, cursing himself for his negative mind.

Alexander recounted the numbers of his ‘division’ or whatever the right military term was. Ordo University’s Department of Systemic Works had volunteered to participate in Operation Scorcher. Add that number with Team Luster, Alba, and Archknell, the manpower totaled what? Over three hundred? Four?

The juniors were varied in terms of ranking and specializations. Barring the adults, which were mostly high-rankers, the average rank settled between high-D and low-C. The Combative Program was relatively diverse in terms of fighting prowess; the Supportive Program, although lacking in combat capability, would make up the backbone. Support and all that. In terms of communication, the Slayer System worked just fine, using a [Private Channel].

Alexander did the math over and over, adding Systemic Works with the other Slayers who’d be arriving. Then with the estimated number of troops. Over thirteen thousand total. Thirteen thousand, he’d whisper, enunciating each syllable similarly to a prayer. For tonight, it’d be his lucky number.

He also had an unlucky number: two. Two Comets. Two monsters to slay. Other than them, Ordo didn’t know exactly how many monsters would siege them but that was why they had thirteen thousand people present. Just in case they had to fight double that.

It’ll take about forty minutes to arrive at the location, and he prayed that nothing would happen until then.

The roads were supposedly safe. Supposedly. Alexander gazed through the bulletproof windows, spotting the masses of bodies lining the sidewalks. Uncovered. Men and women and children, many with gaping wounds, missing limbs, missing faces. Soldiers and civilians walked parallel to these open graves, most of them wearing masks to mitigate the stench somewhat. Probably didn’t help. The former tucked rifles close to their chests, patrolling, eyeing each car and nodding, while the civilians searched through the bodies, looking for a familiar face maybe.

It wasn’t a good sight. The bodies had filled building interiors as well since they had nowhere else to go. If Alexander had a comparison, it’d be those documentaries detailing genocides, and the camera would pan to swaths of dead and the living rummaging through them. Open eyes, limp limbs—which ones were alive, and which ones were dead? They looked to be the same. And the lines were never-ending. Never-ending. Never-ending…

Alexander laid back in his uncomfortable, itching seat. As far as first experiences go, sitting in a humvee driving into war was an experience he wouldn’t want a repeat of. Not to mention he was the outsider here, rooming with a squad he didn’t know. His team, Slayer Team Alba, was in the humvee behind him due to space issues. (These things were small. How did these guys survive in these?)

He kept numerous screens up, of different message logs: Archknell, Sage, Leona, the [Party Chat], and the [Private Channel]. It was heavily moderated by Sage who’d implemented programs to keep things orderly because thousands were involved. She was currently talking, going over protocols and functions in order to foster good and correct communication throughout the operation.

He sighed, putting his elbow on the door handle, one eye on the logs and another outside, to the mess of corpses.

A ding alerted him. From Leona.

Leona:

Hey sweetheart

How are you doing?

A smile crept upon him.

Alexander:

As good as i can be

You?

Leona:

Hardly any better

I don’t want to stare out of the window

Alexander:

I felt that

Hows the rest

Leona:

Althea’s strong as always

Vernon’s nervous but he’s handling himself well

And Damien’s Damien

Alexander:

Great

Lets hope for the best then

Leona:

Of course

She took longer than normal to write her next message.

Leona:

I love you

Somehow, he knew she would say that. Even then, his cheeks were going warm. It was a nice feeling, better than the alternative: impending doom.

Alexander:

You too

Leona:

You don’t have to act cool around me

I won’t judge you

Alexander:

Yeah yeah shut up

He glanced away from the [Private Message] to look the soldiers accompanying him. Five, including the gunner and driver. They were occupied on the sight outside, attentive, aware. Though a couple sensed his staring, glimpsed back, and shot a glare. They didn’t look to be in the mood for a chat. Couldn’t blame them.

This was one depressing start to an operation. Alexander thought this was the perfect time for that military banter famous in TV shows and movies, just guys and gals shooting the shit. Comedy would be perfect for times like these, because otherwise what else did anybody had? when everything outside looked like death?

Checking over his messages one more time, making sure he didn’t miss anything substantial, he then decided to lay back and shut his eyes. The world melted, turning into sensations. Each bump in the road jittered his legs. Lead and smoke and corpses added to his discomfort, but they were washed away.

Hangzhou, this looked like Hangzhou in some ways, but he was here despite. That was a good thing, he thought, doing good things despite.

Alexander didn’t know how long he stayed like this, in a fake nap, until he heard a ding and opened his eyes. In his recipient list, he had a new user contacting him, different from the rest. He leaned closer and saw who it was: Seraph.

Thank God it wasn’t Prominence or anyone from Oasis Guild. But frankly, Seraph was more terrifying than all of them combined.

Seraph:

Alexander, I hope I’m not interrupting you.

Alexander:

Not at all.

Considering this was Seraph of all people, proper grammar and syntax was necessary.

Alexander:

Did something happen?

Seraph:

No, I thought to contact you about general things. How is your team? Mark complained to me about Vernon earlier.

Alexander:

I know. We have a relatively low-risk position. Here though, less risk doesn’t mean all that much.

Seraph:

You could’ve opted to stay. That option was given to you.

She wasn’t incorrect, as Archknell had said. But there was a matter of pride, of responsibility.

Alexander:

Don’t go against your original wishes. You trusted me to be in this operation. All of us.

Unless you’re giving me an order. If you are, we have to politely disobey. We’re far too deep to turn back.

Seraph:

You are correct about that. Archknell messaged me about my reasoning for your involvement and I’m sure Kosmos had to console Duskfire.

I can’t give you my full confidence, Alexander, because it feels like I’m going against what Hwaseong wanted for Leona. And what your parents wanted for you and your sister.

At the same time, I can’t order you to stay knowing how you and the rest of your team are. That you are above normal civilians.

God has other plans for us, I’m afraid.

Alexander:

Tell me about it.

I apologize for placing that big of a burden on you but we’re Slayers now. All of us are. Besides, if this operation goes well then our help wouldn’t be instrumental.

Archknell and the other high-rankers can bring everyone home safe and sound.

I’m the guy who made the correct theory, that’s all.

Seraph:

Don’t discount yourself. Leona had always told me you have a problem with that, even now. It’s almost amusing to see.

I’m serious though, Alexander. After all of this, surely you realize your true worth in this world.

Alexander had his first realization seven years ago.

Seraph:

You were never an ordinary man, Alexander. From the very beginning, you were meant for wonderful things.

Alexander:

I never wanted ‘wonderful things’, I just wanted my life. But dammit all, there’s no turning back now, is there? What kind of man would I be if I stood around and did nothing?

Seraph did not immediately respond.

Seraph:

You are just like Kosmos, just a different side of the same coin. He wanted to be extraordinary to protect everyone he loved.

Alexander:

In your eyes, he was extraordinary from the very beginning, wasn’t he?

Seraph:

Always. Even before he received his Second Emergence, especially then. It’s exactly how Leona sees you.

You’ll protect her, won’t you?

Alexander:

No matter what.

And Seraph, I have a special request.

Seraph:

What is it?

Alexander:

Tell me the entire story. About why you *actually* sponsored me and the rest of Alba.

She didn't immediately respond.

Seraph:

Okay.

Alexander:

Good. I need to focus on the operation now.

Seraph:

I’ll pray for you, Alexander.

Seraph ended the conversation there. Although he spoke to her on numerous occasions, it had never gotten any easier. She was the most powerful woman in Ordo, married to the most powerful man in the world. And Alexander was lucky enough to get onto her good graces. Just enough for her to recommend him for this operation, ironically enough.

He sighed, waiting. It’ll be the most painful car ride yet.

***

Although the designated meeting place was Gallery Street, that was not Alba’s position. They were to be placed with the Department of Systemic Works and the 5th Infantry Battalion in Rama Avenue, several blocks away from the destination itself. The high-ranking Slayers, however, swiftly made way to Gallery.

As soon as Alexander stepped out from the cramped and uncomfortable humvee (he’d prefer riding in a coffin), the station itself was cleaner than he had expected. There were evidence of zombie influence around however, like small bits and pieces of flesh and organs, but they were mostly cleaned up. Some of the soldiers had mentioned that they had taken the bodies and put them in basements since, well, they didn’t have nowhere else to put them in such short notice.

It sounded disrespectful but that thought hardly mattered now; there were more important things to stress over. Like the current buzz. When they’d arrived, the battleground had mostly been prepared, walls erected by a combination effort between rifles and swords.

A multi-layered perimeter had been established, the first spanning the length of Rama Avenue and was the most fortified of them all: armored vehicles with machine guns hid behind barriers constructed from combat and magic engineers, such as those from the Supportive Program. In the buildings, troops mounted the windows with rifles and bigger guns and small artillery and other things that only Vernon would know the name of. Every inch was packed with actionable personnel.

Smaller, yet formidable perimeters were established at set distances until reaching Gallery Street, where a wall like Rama Avenue’s was erected about five blocks away from the centerpoint.

While Alexander wasn’t at Gallery personally, he knew the sight: the streets were covered in a thick layer of blood and guts due to the Tormented Flesh and the zombies it had raised. When your shoes were drenched in blood, that was where the high-rankers were. The best of the best in Ordo. Only they were allowed there.

Alexander stared at its general direction, knowing the battle was about to begin at any moment now.

He regrouped with his team, each having a different reaction to the sight. Vernon’s was of awe: looking around at the great activity and seeing technology he’d previously seen in news articles and documentaries; Althea was overwhelmed, preferring to keep her head down and her team close; Damien didn’t really care all that much, but he seemed to be impressed; and Leona? She was impressed as well, having a smile that warmed Alexander’s heart.

Alexander gestured with his head and led his team to their position, which was the street behind Rama Avenue, Venus Street (everything in this city was named after mythology or Slayers, he personally hated it). They passed running soldiers. They heard Slayers arguing with officers already. All sorts of large weaponry was being prepped. Mechanical and magical, and sometimes a combination of both.

Despite the chaos, Alexander allowed himself the luxury to indulge in this. This was humanity’s determination. Within a day, this had been planned and executed; perhaps not perfectly or cleanly, nor with the most nuance or tact, but this was the best they had given the short time frame. The Comets, surely, had to be intimidated by the sight.

After all, humanity had survived the initial threat of apocalypse. Surely, as Ordo was founded by Primordial itself, its citizens possessed the greatest spirit of them all.

It didn’t take much time for everyone to find familiar faces. The Combative Program was to be led by Professor Hei, who was standing on top of an ashen-barked truck shouting out orders. She called the name of teams followed by their locations and reminders: use the Slayer System to ping for help, call out the portals, confirm that they were present or neutralized, things of that nature.

Alba had magically found themselves next to Team Victor, whose leader gave them a cocky wink and grin. He was oddly chipper about sacrificing his life to the stars; good, Alexander would volunteer him to be the first gift for the cosmic gods. “This is a lot bigger than I expected,” he told them. “Kinda makes it exciting.”

“Don’t let your excitement get to your head,” reminded Leona who had a steady frown. “You might be a B-Rank but you’re still considered to be inexperienced like the rest of us.”

Victor awkwardly chuckled. “I was just trying to lighten the mood, man.”

Alexander didn’t have anything to say, only a simple, but well-meaning glare at this asshole. Said asshole wasn’t amused.

“Regardless,” Damien began, “thirteen thousand here in this quaint space. Alex, did you really help plan this?”

“Huh?” Vernon exclaimed.

“What?” Victor had the same reaction.

“Not this stuff, no,” admitted Alexander, making sure he was also listening to Professor Hei. “I wasn’t the joint defensive coordinator, that was mainly Sage and Archknell and their respective teams. What? Do you think I could plan that stuff? Hell no. I, uh, contributed to the initial planning when we were all in a stump.”

“What does that even mean?” asked Althea, deadpan. “I barely remembered what I ate for lunch today.”

“It was the jjigae,” Leona reminded, and Althea hushed her.

“I’m sorry, but did you seriously help plan this shit?” Victor stared at Alexander in disbelief. “And we’re only hearing about this now? And how come your team isn’t surprised?!”

Damien shrugged. “I suspected it from the beginning.”

Leona hummed. “I did too.”

Althea raised her hand. “Ditto.”

“I’m actually surprised! How come I didn’t know this?” said Vernon, unfortunately proving he was the dull one in the shed. “Aren’t you guys sorta upset?”

“Why would we be?” Leona told him, sharing a trusted smile with her partner. “Given the circumstances, I think I can partly forgive Alex for keeping his secrets. We all want the same thing here: for Ordo to escape this hell.”

No one disagreed with what Leona had said. They turned to Professor Hei who was continuing to shout out positions. That was, until the air suddenly shifted. It was an odd feeling, one that Alexander couldn’t fully describe. Not like the wind but rather needles, the one you’d find in a deep cold. They had pricked his exposed skin with a slight dull pain.

Spatial distortion effects on the human body.

Inside his chest, his Krait began vibrating.

[SLAYER SYSTEM ALERT]

A SPATIAL DISTORTION HAS BEEN DETECTED IN THE FOLLOWING COORDINATES!

Before anyone could think, the System alerted them again.

[SLAYER SYSTEM ALERT]

A SPATIAL DISTORTION HAS BEEN DETECTED IN THE FOLLOWING COORDINATES!

Alexander cursed under his breath. Nothing was ever easy.

The street erupted in shouts. Although no one shout was heard clearly, the primary message was clear: portals, and they were coming fast.

The enemy was arriving earlier than expected. Well, everyone had known that the operation wouldn’t go completely according to plan, so the unexpected was pretty well predicted as contradictory as that may sound.

Didn’t make it any less annoying.