Camp Alnus, 5th Division HQ

March, 27, 2028 06:03 (27th day of the Crescent Moon 638)

Upon returning to base with the refugees, 3rd Recon and Bravo 1 were greeted by two very different faces—Major Higaki's stern glare and the amused smirk of Captain Caldwell.

Major Higaki crossed his arms, his frustration was evident. "What the hell are you two doing?"

Itami shifted awkwardly, glancing at Adam for support. "Uhhh... were we not supposed to bring them here?"

Adam, standing at ease with his hands in his pockets, shot back without missing a beat. "We're just following the Geneva Conventions, sir."

Higaki's frown deepened, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Goddamn it, Captain—please talk some sense into your subordinate!"

Caldwell gave a lazy shrug, clearly finding some entertainment in the situation. "Sorry, Major, but that's just how he is. Can't do much about it." He tilted his head toward the refugees outside. "Besides he's right, they're civilians. We're obligated to protect them—it's kind of the rulebook."

Higaki let out a long, tired sigh. "I guess you're right, Captain." He pointed a finger at the two soldiers. "You two—return your gear and have a report on my desk before the general gets wind of this. Clear?"

Itami and Adam responded in unison. "Yes, sir."

With that, Higaki turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, muttering something under his breath. Caldwell lingered for a moment longer, the corners of his mouth still curled upward in amusement, before he gave the pair a knowing nod and followed after Higaki.

As they made their way out of HQ, Itami cast a sidelong glance at Adam, curiosity gnawing at him. "Why'd you push his buttons like that? You were way too casual back there."

Adam smirked but kept walking, his expression unreadable. "Sometimes you gotta keep things light, Itami. Keeps everyone sane."





Dispatch to Special Region HQ, Camp Alnus

March 27, 2028, 06:33 (27th day of the Crescent Moon 638)

General Hazama sat behind his desk, sifting through a thick stack of reports while the soft overhead light cast a warm glow over the neatly arranged papers. His adjutant, Lieutenant Yanagida, stood close by, skimming through a separate pile of folders. Both were immersed in the details, though one report in particular caught Hazama's eye—a report from 3rd Recon.

Hazama leaned back, tapping the report with his pen. "So, it was 3rd Recon that brought refugees to Alnus Hill?"

Yanagida nodded without looking up. "Yes, sir. The Americans pushed for it, citing humanitarian priorities."

Hazama frowned, tapping his pen absently. "I agree, helping refugees is a priority, but taking them in at Alnus is a different issue."

Yanagida closed a folder with a soft thwap, meeting Hazama's gaze. "With respect, sir, this could be an asset. We've had little success gathering intel from the locals so far. With refugees here, we could study their culture up close. Firsthand interaction is more reliable than reports."

Hazama considered it, brow furrowing. "Good point. But do we have enough resources to sustain them? We're already stretched thin maintaining this forward base."

Yanagida allowed himself a rare, small smile. "Actually, the Americans are handling most of the logistics—food, medicine, tents. They're even setting up a Burger King."

Hazama pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "A Burger King... Of course. The perks of working with a superpower." He shook his head, half-amused. "Alright, set them up with quarters and food."

Yanagida nodded crisply. "Yes, sir. I'll coordinate with logistics."

Setting the report aside, Hazama leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "Let's just hope this decision doesn't bite us down the line."

Yanagida's expression remained neutral, though his eyes gleamed with restrained amusement. "If it does, sir, at least we'll be well-fed."

The general snorted, a wry grin tugging at his mouth. "Damn Americans."

Yanagida chuckled as he collected the reports. "They do know how to keep morale high."

Hazama waved him off. "Alright, get moving. Let's make sure this doesn't turn into a circus."

Yanagida saluted with a grin. "Already on it, sir."

After receiving direct orders from Hazama, Major Higaki wasted no time delegating the task to Itami and Adam.

Itami sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Man, this sucks."

Adam shot him a look. "Do you want to help these people or not?"

"Of course I do, but the paperwork... " Itami groaned, already imagining the mountain of forms.

Adam chuckled. "And that's why I never went the officer route."

Just then, a familiar voice broke into their conversation.

"Hey, you two."

They turned to see Lieutenant Yanagida, reclining casually in a hallway chair, a cigarette dangling between his fingers.

"Lieutenant Yanagida, right?" Adam said, recognizing him.

"That's right," Yanagida replied, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. "But let's skip the formalities. You two were up to something, weren't you?"

Itami blinked, feigning innocence. "Up to what?"

"Don't play dumb. You both were checking in regularly until the Flame Dragon incident." Yanagida's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not buying it.

"Oh, that." Itami shrugged. "We didn't pick up any transmissions. Could be radio interference—new world, after all."

Yanagida snorted. "If you two wanted to operate in the shadows, you should've come up with a better lie."

Adam smirked, looking slightly sheepish. "Yeah, I'm not exactly a good liar. If I were, I'd have joined 'the company.'"

Yanagida sighed, his exasperation clear. "Fine, follow me."

Up on the rooftop, Yanagida leaned against the railing, his gaze sweeping over the camp below, before turning back to Itami and Adam. The usual smirk was absent; instead, his expression was sharp, serious.

"Itami, let's be real about what we're dealing with here," Yanagida began, voice low. "This world is practically a gold mine—untouched nature, vast resources, and only one portal back to Earth. It could redefine the world economy, and Japan's at the center of it. The question is, are we prepared to make ourselves a target for two out of three superpowers?"

Itami frowned, folding his arms as he met Yanagida's intense gaze. "I get that you're patriotic, but what does that have to do with the refugees? It's not like they know where the gold and silver are buried."

Yanagida raised an eyebrow, a calculating glint in his eyes. "True. But they might know someone who does. Ever thought of asking them to point us toward the people who know where the resources are?"

Itami groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're relentless, Yanagida."

Yanagida smirked, his usual playful edge returning. "Relentless? That's just taxpayer money hard at work, Itami." He let his gaze shift to Adam, his eyes sharpening once more. "But let's not stop there. Tell me, Sergeant—why Delta Force instead of 1st Special Forces Group? If it's purely advising and reconnaissance, 1st Group would've been the natural fit."

Adam met Yanagida's gaze calmly, arms crossed in a display of composure. "Deployment orders come from higher up, sir. Sometimes certain skill sets align with operational needs."

Yanagida's eyes narrowed, clearly not satisfied. "Skill sets, huh?"

Adam gave a faint, professional smile. "That's above my pay grade, sir. It's up to command to decide what's needed. Our job is just to execute."

Yanagida let out a frustrated chuckle, shaking his head. "So, it's just a matter of the 'desired outcome,' then?"

Adam shrugged, his tone carrying a hint of dry humor. "The government works in mysterious ways, Lieutenant. They give the orders; we follow. As for the outcome, that's their game to play."

Yanagida's gaze turned calculating again. "And what if your government's 'desired outcome' doesn't align with ours?"

Adam didn't flinch, meeting Yanagida's stare head-on. "Then that's for diplomats and politicians to hash out, sir. My priority is making sure everyone gets home in one piece." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But for what it's worth, we're here to support your mission, not to sideline it."

Yanagida seemed to consider this, then let out a dry chuckle. "You've got the diplomat act down, I'll give you that."

Adam's expression didn't change, but a trace of a smile played on his lips. "Experience teaches you a few things, sir. Keeping things civil goes a long way."

Yanagida rolled his eyes, though he seemed mildly amused. "Well, keep it up, Sergeant. Just know I'll be watching. Your squadron, too."

Adam gave a polite nod. "Wouldn't expect anything less."

With that, Yanagida pushed himself off the railing, sparing one last scrutinizing look at the two before turning to leave. "Carry on, gentlemen."

"Will do, sir," Adam replied smoothly.

As Yanagida's footsteps echoed down the stairwell, Adam let out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He glanced over at Itami, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You were right; he's a real pain."

Itami chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, But for now, let's get back to the real work and check on the refugees."

"Agreed," Adam replied, taking one last look over the camp before following Itami down the stairs.





Empty troops Barracks, Camp Alnus

March 27, 2028 06:33 (27th day of the Crescent Moon 638)

Following the general's directives, Itami and Adam instructed their teams to interview the refugees they sheltered, aiming to gain deeper insights into the local culture, religion, and economy.

"Alright, everyone," Andrew began, his voice steady and authoritative. "Please line up and enter this room one at a time. We're here to ask you some questions. Don't worry; you're not in trouble. We just want to document your experiences and gather information. Do you understand? Good. Let's get started."





Subject: Cato Al Testan

Interviewer: Seargent First Class Andrew Bell

As the first individual entered the room, Andrew took a moment to observe him. The man was short and wore flowing blue robes, topped with a hat that made Andrew think of a certain fictional wizard.

"Welcome," Andrew said, offering a polite smile. "My name is Sergeant First Class Andrew Bell, and I'll be your interviewer today. Could you please state your name and occupation?"

"I am Cato Al Testan, a Sage," the man replied, his voice calm and measured.

"A Sage, huh?" Andrew mused, intrigued. "That means you work with magic, correct?"

"Indeed," Cato affirmed, a hint of pride in his voice.

"That's fascinating," Andrew replied, leaning forward slightly. "Could you demonstrate a spell for me?"

Cato raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused by the request. "Certainly! Do you have a specific type of spell in mind?"

Andrew shook his head, aware of his own limitations in understanding this world's magic. "I'm not familiar with magic, to be honest. In fact, magic is new to everyone here on the base."

Cato smirked, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and confidence. "Very well. Allow me to show you a basic spell." He extended his hands, palms facing upward, and closed his eyes for a moment as he focused.

Andrew watched with keen interest as a soft, shimmering light began to emanate from Cato's hands, gradually intensifying until it formed a small, floating orb of energy. The orb danced lightly in the air, casting a gentle glow around the room.

Andrew's professional demeanor faltered slightly at the sight. He had read about magic but witnessing it in person was an entirely different experience. "That's... impressive," he managed, quickly regaining his composure. "How does it work?"

Cato opened his eyes, the orb of light hovering effortlessly between them. "The foundation of magic lies in mana," he explained, gesturing toward the orb. "Mana is a form of energy that exists within all living beings and in the environment around us. As a Sage, I draw upon that energy to perform spells. The stronger my connection to the mana, the more powerful the magic I can wield."

Andrew nodded, absorbing the information. "So, is mana something that can be trained or increased over time?"

"Indeed," Cato replied, allowing the orb to expand and contract with a wave of his hand. "Sages and other magic users can cultivate their mana reserves through meditation and practice. The more you train, the more control you gain over your spells. However, it is essential to understand your limits; overexerting oneself can lead to exhaustion or worse."

Andrew leaned forward, intrigued by the implications. "And this energy—mana—can it be manipulated in different ways depending on the spell?"

"Precisely," Cato said, a smile spreading across his face. "Each spell has its own requirements and intricacies, but the fundamental principle remains the same: harnessing mana and shaping it to your will."

With a flick of his wrist, Cato dismissed the orb, and it dissolved into a shower of tiny sparks that faded into the air. "Would you like to know anything else?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, clearly enjoying Andrew's curiosity.

"Actually, yes. How does someone like you come to be trained as a Sage? Is it a formal process?" Andrew asked, his pen hovering over his notebook.

Cato nodded thoughtfully. "The Empire holds a significant monopoly on magic users. Anyone with a high affinity for magic is almost certain to be directed toward the Imperial military academy."

Andrew raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "So, most Sages receive their education through the military?"

"Correct," Cato replied, crossing his arms. "But there are other paths. A Sage who refuses to join the Imperial military can attend the magical academy in the city of Rondel."

"A magical academy?" Andrew asked, leaning forward. "What do they teach there?"

"The Academy in Rondel covers a wide range of subjects," Cato explained. "They start with the basics of magic, progressing to advanced research and the development of new spells."

Andrew glanced at his notes, considering his next question. "If the Empire allows them to attend the Academy, does that mean the Academy is aligned with the Empire?"

Cato's expression grew guarded, a faint frown crossing his face. "That relationship is... complicated."

Andrew's curiosity was piqued. "Could you elaborate on that?"

"If I were to describe the relationship between Rondel and the Empire in one word, it would be... tension," Cato said, choosing his words carefully.

Andrew looked at him steadily. "Tension? Why is that?"

"Sir Andrew," Cato began, "many scholars in Rondel see magic as a means of progress and a tool for helping others. However, the Empire views it almost exclusively as a weapon of war and conquest. Rondel's loyalty to the Empire is maintained through substantial funding. If Rondel's Academy could achieve financial independence, the city would have severed its ties with the Empire long ago."

Andrew nodded, taking this in. "So, the Academy's relationship with the Empire is purely financial?"

"Yes," Cato confirmed, "but also political. The Empire ensures that any significant magical research benefits them first, keeping control over advancements in magic."

"That must create quite a bit of friction between the Academy and the Empire," Andrew noted, scribbling on his notepad.

"Indeed," Cato said, his gaze distant. "Many in Rondel are frustrated with the Empire's heavy-handed approach and yearn for independence—to use magic for the betterment of society rather than its destruction."

"Have there been any notable conflicts between Rondel and the Empire?" Andrew asked, his tone serious.

"There have been tensions and skirmishes," Cato replied. "But no large-scale conflicts. Both sides understand the mutual benefits of their uneasy alliance."

Andrew leaned back, visibly impressed. "Thank you for sharing this, Mr. Cato Al Testan. It's been very enlightening."

Cato inclined his head, a faint smile on his face. "You're welcome, Sir Andrew. I'm glad to provide insight into our world."





Subject: Lelei la Lena

Interviewer: Seargent First Class Mari Kurokawa

Sergeant First Class Mari Kurokawa sat across from Lelei, her demeanor warm yet professional. "Hello, I'm Sergeant First Class Mari Kurokawa. You can call me Kurokawa," she said, offering a friendly smile. "What's your name?"

"Lelei la Lelena. You can call me Lelei," the young woman replied, her voice steady.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Lelei," Kurokawa said, leaning slightly forward to convey her interest. "Can you tell me a bit more about yourself?"

Lelei tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "What would you like to know?"

Kurokawa maintained her approachable demeanor, sensing the hesitation in Lelei's response. "Anything you feel comfortable sharing. I'd love to learn more about your background."

With a small nod, Lelei began, "I come from the nomadic tribe of Rurudo."

Kurokawa's curiosity piqued. "I've read a bit about nomadic tribes. What's life like for your people?"

Lelei took a breath, her gaze focused as she reflected on her upbringing. "In our tribe, men are responsible for hunting, while women stay home to care for the family. It's a traditional way of life that has been passed down through generations."

Kurokawa jotted down Lelei's response, her pen gliding smoothly across the paper. "I heard that you are what they call an 'Apprentice Sage.' Is that correct?" she asked, her tone inviting.

"Yes," Lelei confirmed, her expression brightening slightly. "My master is Cato El Testan."

Kurokawa leaned in, intrigued. "What motivated you to pursue magic?"

Lelei hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting as memories flooded back. "My story began long before I started studying magic," she began, her voice steady. "After my sister's father passed away, our mother remarried. Unfortunately, our new father turned out to be a tyrant. It was a dark time for us."

Kurokawa's brow furrowed in concern. "That sounds difficult. What happened next?"

Lelei nodded, continuing with quiet determination. "Sister and I ran away. We ended up as sorcery students in Rondel, where Grand Master Mimoza La Mer recognized our innate magical talents. She took us under her wing and taught us the ways of magic."

"Sounds like you found a mentor at a crucial time," Kurokawa remarked, her voice supportive.

"Yes," Lelei agreed, her tone brightening slightly at the memory. "But while my sister chose to stay with Grand Master Mimoza, I felt drawn to study under Master Cato instead. So, when I was nearly ten years old, I moved to the outskirts of Coda village to live with him."

Kurokawa smiled, sensing the pride in Lelei's words. "That must have been a significant decision for you, leaving your sister behind to pursue your own path."

Lelei's eyes sparkled with resolve. "It was, but I knew I had to follow my instincts. Master Cato is an incredible teacher, and I've learned so much from him. I feel like I've finally found my place."

As Kurokawa jotted down notes, she noticed Lelei's eyes fixating on her uniform, her gaze particularly drawn to the symbol on Kurokawa's arm. There was a spark of curiosity in the young girl's expression, and Kurokawa couldn't help but smile.

"Is there something you'd like to ask, Lelei?" Kurokawa prompted gently.

Lelei looked up, hesitating for a moment before nodding. "I've noticed that most of you wear green uniforms, but some of you wear darker colors—browns or tan ones. And the symbols on your arms... I see a red circle in the middle of a white background on some, while others have red stripes and stars. What do they mean?"

Kurokawa chuckled softly, impressed by the keen observation. "You're very perceptive. Those of us with the red circle on a white background are what we call 'Japanese,' from a country named Japan. The others, with the stars and stripes, are 'Americans,' from the United States of America."

Lelei's brow furrowed as she absorbed the unfamiliar terms. "Japan... United States of America... are these like kingdoms?"

Kurokawa tilted her head thoughtfully. "In a way, Japan might seem like a kingdom. We have an emperor, but he holds very little power; our country is led by elected officials. The United States, though, is a federal republic where people choose their leader through voting every four years. They're two very different systems."

Lelei's eyes lit up as she nodded, processing this new perspective. "Thank you, Miss Kurokawa. It's fascinating how different your world is from mine."





Subject: Rory Mercury

Interviewer: Master Seargent Adam Woods

Adam approached Rory with a polite nod and a friendly smile. "Good evening, I'm Master Sergeant Adam Woods. You can call me Adam. And what might your name be, miss?"

Rory's lips curled into a sly grin, her ruby eyes gleaming with amusement. "I am Rory Mercury, Apostle of the God of War, Emroy."

Adam raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Apostle, huh? That sounds interesting. Mind explaining what that actually means?"

"Your curiosity is commendable, Adam," Rory replied, her tone both teasing and formal. "An Apostle is an emissary of their god, tasked with spreading their messages and fulfilling their divine will."

He tilted his head slightly, absorbing this. "Fascinating. So, there are multiple gods in your world?"

"Oh, yes." Rory's grin widened, her tone laced with mischief. "A pantheon of gods, each with their own Apostle. Emroy, my god, is the deity of Darkness, War, Death, Violence..." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And a touch of Insanity."

Adam gave a slight chuckle, though he stayed as composed as ever. "Quite the range of domains. Any of these gods we should be worried about?"

Rory's playful expression faded momentarily. Her eyes darkened as her gaze drifted off. "Well... there is one."

Adam leaned in, sensing the shift in her demeanor. "Who might that be?"

She hesitated, her expression turning grim as she seemed to wrestle with whether to continue. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "Hardy. The Goddess of the Underworld."

Adam frowned, noticing her unease. "What makes her dangerous?"

"Hardy's influence is... complicated," Rory replied, her voice carefully measured. "She has a rather obsessive interest in acquiring what—or rather who—she desires." Rory gave a theatrical sigh, shaking her head with exaggerated disappointment. "She once tried to claim me, can you imagine? Quite a nuisance."

Adam's mouth twitched, amused by her dramatics. "I can imagine. Doesn't sound like a goddess you'd want as an enemy."

Rory shrugged, her playful glint returning. "Or a friend, really. She has... boundary issues."

Adam stifled a laugh and moved the conversation forward. "So, what about the people here? Is there a common religion or are beliefs as varied as your pantheon?"

"Quite varied," Rory replied with a wave of her hand. "Many of the people have their preferred gods, though there are certainly some... intense followers."

Adam nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds like something we have in common."

Rory leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "Oh? Tell me, do you have gods in your world too?"

Adam paused, considering how best to explain it. "Not in the way you do. People believe in many things—there are religions, yes, and people who follow their own ideas of higher powers. But we don't see gods walking around or appointing Apostles."

Rory chuckled, raising a brow. "So your gods are hidden? Perhaps they're just very good at avoiding the spotlight."

Adam smirked. "Maybe. Or maybe they let us handle our own messes."

"How very trusting of them," she teased, her voice dripping with mischief. "I wonder if they'd appoint an Apostle like me if they ever wanted someone to liven things up."

Adam couldn't resist a laugh. "You'd certainly make an impression."

She placed a finger to her chin, tilting her head as if in thought. "Oh, I'm sure I would. But perhaps I'd enjoy a bit of mischief in your world. If your gods aren't watching, maybe no one would mind."

Adam gave her a level look, amused. "That sounds exactly like a recipe for trouble."

Rory leaned back with a satisfied smile. "I live for a little chaos. I think we're going to get along just fine, Adam."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Somehow, I'm not surprised to hear that."

As their conversation drew to a close, Rory's grin softened, but her gaze still sparkled with intrigue. "It's been a pleasure, Adam. If you have more questions, don't hesitate to ask. I'm always more than happy to... educate."

Adam nodded, his tone steady. "I'll keep that in mind, Miss Rory."





Subject: Tuka Marceau

Interviewer: Staff Seargent David Hill

Staff Sergeant David Hill approached the quiet young elf with a gentle smile. Her long, silvery hair and ethereal gaze hinted at a life far removed from the chaos she'd been thrust into. "Hello, I'm Staff Sergeant David Hill," he introduced himself softly. "You must be Tuka, right?"

The elf nodded, her voice gentle but carrying a distinct strength. "Yes, I am. I'm Tuka Marceau, Hodrew's daughter."

Hill hesitated a moment, searching for the right words. "First of all, Tuka... I'm truly sorry for what happened to your village. I can only imagine what you've been through."

Tuka's eyes flickered with a hint of sorrow, but her tone remained steady. "Thank you, but... why apologize? The loss of my village isn't your responsibility or that of your people."

Hill dipped his head, understanding. "It's just... well, for us, expressing sorrow for someone's loss is a way of honoring it. Acknowledging what happened and respecting what it means to you." His voice was quiet, weighted with sincerity. "How are you holding up?"

Tuka looked down, as if weighing the question. "I'm hanging in there," she replied finally. "Your healers are taking good care of me. I am... grateful for that."

Hill smiled slightly, encouraged by her honesty. "I'm glad to hear it." He glanced around, noting the strangeness of this place for someone like her. "How are you finding things here? It must be quite a change from life with your people."

A small, thoughtful smile touched Tuka's lips. "It is a stark change," she admitted. "Back home, there was always hunting or foraging to do. Now, with food already prepared and everything arranged, it's... comforting. A little strange, but comforting. I'm learning to adapt, I suppose."

Hill nodded, impressed by her resilience. "Well, you seem to be adjusting pretty well." He straightened slightly, keeping his tone respectful. "Tuka, as my colleague may have mentioned, I need to ask you a few questions, if you're alright with that."

She nodded, meeting his gaze directly. "Go ahead. I will answer what I can."

Hill took a moment to consider his words. "Alright, then. My first question is about the attack. Did you have any idea why the Flame Dragon attacked your village specifically?"

A shadow passed over Tuka's face. Her voice grew quiet, and her hands clenched briefly. "No... it came without warning. It was like a nightmare—sudden and without reason. We didn't provoke it. There was no sign it would come for us." She swallowed, her gaze hardening as she forced herself to remain composed.

Hill's voice softened, sensing her struggle. "I understand. I'm so sorry you had to experience something like that." He allowed a moment of silence before moving forward. "Are there any other elf settlements nearby, places where survivors might have gone?"

Tuka shook her head. "No. Elven tribes are territorial, and we often live far from each other. Raiding is common between tribes, but it's nothing like... this." Her voice grew bitter, her eyes darkening. "Nothing like a Flame Dragon's wrath."

Hill listened with a thoughtful expression, nodding slightly. "Thank you, Tuka. That's helpful to understand." He paused before asking his next question. "I understand if this is difficult, but could you tell me a little about how the elves relate to the Empire?"

Tuka's expression grew guarded. "My father handled our tribe's interactions with other factions," she replied, her voice low. "He... was respected for his wisdom. I'm not sure what he would've thought of everything that's happening now." Her voice wavered ever so slightly, betraying a glimmer of grief she couldn't quite conceal.

Hill gave her a reassuring look. "I'm sorry... for everything." He paused, lowering his voice. "I can see you carry your father's strength."

A faint smile touched her lips, though it was shadowed by sadness. "Thank you," she murmured. "He always wanted me to be strong."

Hill nodded, letting the silence settle between them for a moment before speaking again. "One more question, if you're alright with it. I know it's... complicated, but I wanted to ask how you feel about humans after everything that's happened."

Tuka's gaze turned thoughtful, and she considered his question carefully. "It is complicated," she said finally. "My father taught me to be cautious but fair. I've come to see that not all humans are the same. Some are kind, like your healers. Others... the Empire has not always been just to us."

Hill's respect for her grew. "That's an admirable way to see things, Tuka. It takes strength to look beyond pain and see with such clarity."

She looked up at him, her expression grateful. "Thank you, Staff Sergeant Hill. I appreciate... the kindness."

He gave a respectful nod, his gaze warm. "It's the least I can offer, Miss Tuka. And if you ever need anything, you just let me know."

Tuka's lips curled in a faint, genuine smile, and for a moment, a spark of hope softened her gaze. "I will. Thank you."





Refugee Housing, Alnus Camp

March 27, 2028 17:42 (27th day of the Crescent Moon 638)

As evening settled over Alnus, refugees gathered at the modest house assigned to Cato el Testan, who, by unspoken consensus, had taken on the role of their leader. A warm glow from a single lantern illuminated the faces of those huddled around, listening as he spoke.

"We owe these otherworlders a great debt," Cato began, his voice quiet yet resolute. "But if we could cover our own living expenses—even a portion—it would ease that debt and give us a measure of independence."

Lelei, seated beside him, nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps they have work they could offer us. I'm sure there are tasks where they could use extra hands."

Cato's eyes brightened. "That's a good thought, Lelei. I noticed many wyvern corpses scattered across the battlefield from the recent attack. Their scales, if in good condition, could fetch a high price on the market."

"Wouldn't we need their permission first?" Lelei asked, glancing at the others. "They were the ones who took down the wyverns, after all."

"Of course," Cato agreed. "We'll speak to them first thing in the morning. If they allow us to harvest and sell the scales, it could be a profitable venture."





Construction Site, Camp Alnus

March 28, 2028 06:23 (28th day of the Crescent Moon 638)

At dawn, Cato and Lelei made their way to the construction site where they found Itami and Adam reviewing blueprints and supplies.

Cato cleared his throat. "Excuse me—may we have a moment?"

Itami looked to them with a welcoming grin. "Sure, what's up?"

Taking a steadying breath, Cato explained their idea. "We were wondering if we could gather scales from the wyverns slain near the camp. They could be sold for a good price, and it would help us cover some of our expenses."

Itami exchanged a quick look with Adam before shrugging with a casual smile. "Absolutely. You're welcome to take all of them, if it helps."

Adam nodded. "They're just taking up space here. We've mostly used the carcasses for shooting practice, so if you can turn them into something useful, go for it."

Cato blinked, stunned by the ease of their answer. "You'd truly let us have all of them?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Adam gave a friendly laugh. "It's not a problem. In fact, it's better for us if you can support yourselves more easily. It lifts some of the burden off our shoulders too."

Cato's face softened with gratitude. "Thank you... Thank you both. This will make a huge difference for us."

Itami smiled. "We hope it does. It's a win-win."

With newfound purpose, the villagers gathered at the edge of the battlefield. They worked for hours, stripping scales from the wyvern carcasses with determination and care. By the time they were done, they had amassed four large sacks brimming with scales and claws—far more than they'd expected.

As they stepped back to assess their haul, Lelei ran some quick calculations. "Just one of these scales is worth between thirteen and seventeen Denari," she murmured, her eyes widening. "And a single Denari can cover a person's expenses for five days."

Rory's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Does that mean we're practically rich now?"

Lelei gave a small smile. "We certainly have more than we thought. With two hundred scales and three claws, we could earn enough to sustain us for a long time if we sell it well."

Cato thought for a moment, a look of resolve forming. "I have an old friend who's a trader in Italica. He'd be fair with us. We'd need to transport the scales there, though—maybe the Japanese or Americans would help us with the journey."

A/N: wow... uh checks calendar 13 days huh? sorry for being late. exams got me backed up anyways... thx for reading whoever you are!