“Ow!”

  An exclamation followed the sharp knock of a wooden spoon against a forehead.

  “What was that for?!” Cosmo reeled back, genuinely startled, rubbing the spot where Mama Maria had struck him. The two stood alone in the dining room.

  It was the second time he’d been hit in the span of an hour. But this one actually stung.

  “I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Mama Maria said coolly, “even though it’s the first time you’ve spoken to others your age in nine years—barring Oliver, of course.”

  She turned away to tidy the edges of the table, but her tone sharpened. “But what you did was remarkably rude and insensitive, even for you—especially to that poor girl.”

  “What? How?” Cosmo asked, brows furrowed in genuine confusion. “Wouldn’t it be better for them to understand each other thoroughly if they’re going to start working together?”

  “Be that as it may,” she replied, “there are things others would rather keep to themselves. And there are things they want to share on their own terms.”

  Her gaze locked on his. “It may not have seemed like much to you, Cosmo. But what you revealed… and took lightly, might have been deeply rooted scars in their hearts. You understand that much… don’t you?”

  Cosmo didn’t respond. Her words struck deeper than he expected, and his mind drifted into reflection.

  “…Right,” he murmured at last.

  Mama Maria let out a quiet sigh. Despite the situation, she was… pleased. There was very little she could ever teach the boy. But the human heart still eluded him. In that regard, he reminded her achingly of his mother.

  “Did they leave, then?” she asked.

  “Yeah…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I’m sure there’ll be another chance in the future.”

  “Hm? No, I mean—they left for their initiation,” Cosmo replied, his tone almost gleeful.

  “In…i…tiation?” Mama Maria’s face turned ghostly pale.

  “What? Are you surprised they were willing to accept my offer?” Cosmo asked, his tone tinged with offense.

  “Cosmo… where did you send those kids?” Her eyes narrowed. Doubt crept in. Surely he hadn’t misjudged their capabilities…?

  “Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “We both know I’d never play with lives, no matter what. I have counter-measures in place.”

  He turned slightly, the glint in his eye not just confident, but certain. “Besides,” he continued, “from what I could tell, those guys have lost the ability to believe in themselves.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  His voice dropped in tone—not dramatically, just true to his emotion.

  “That needs to change before they’re ever dispatched on an official mission.”

  …

  In contrast to the road they had taken, the path ahead was laid to waste. Scattered around them were the charred remnants and twisted frames of burnt-out vehicles.

  The surrounding land bore the marks of relentless destruction—blackened earth, crumbled barriers, and the unmistakable air of a place long-since given over to chaos.

  Debris littered their way, making every step forward an ordeal.

  Anyone could’ve guessed this area was a consistent zone of conflict.

  But no one would have guessed that this was, in fact, the northwest lower region of Simulum City.

  Even Yon and Tyson, picking their way through the ruin, could not comprehend how any area within the city's limits could be left in such disrepair.

  And yet—among the rubble stood a lone building. Untouched. Unscathed.

  It was a massive structure, built of white sandstone and lined front and back with towering columns. Tall stained-glass windows traced its walls, their vivid colors glinting like crystalline data panels in the sunlight—an odd contrast to the otherwise classical architecture.

  Atop the structure sat a carved symbol: two intersecting lines, one longer than the other.

  “Is this... it?” Yon managed between winded pants. They had traveled an extra hour just to reach a desticar-accessible zone beyond Veil’s boundaries.

  And the desticar hadn’t even dropped them at the door. Two more miles on foot, no breaks, no courtesy stops.

  “I’m starting to think the real reason this is the most dangerous job in the world isn’t the shadow beasts or the Shadow Continent,” Yon grumbled, hunched over, hands on his knees. “It's terrible working conditions!”

  “Well…” Tyson managed through his own panting. “Makes sense… why.”

  “So this is where we’re supposed to find her?” Yon asked, lifting his gaze toward the structure.

  “I guess so,” Tyson replied. “Our last comrade.”

  It was odd, how this last recruit hadn’t been acquired through the usual channels. Stranger still, that Cosmo had sent the two of them to retrieve her.

  “I do wonder what this place is,” Tyson murmured. The pristine, anachronistic building nestled inside a post-catastrophic zone just didn’t add up—not in a hyper-developed metropolis like Simulum.

  “I’ve heard rumors about it… never seen it myself, though,” Yon said, rubbing his head as if trying to rub loose an old memory. “I think it’s called The Lord’s House.”

  “The Lord’s House? What Lord?”

  “I think… the Creator,” Yon replied, eyes tracing the symbol overhead.

  “The Creator?” That name Tyson did know.

  It was said that over three centuries ago, a cloaked figure had descended upon the Earth to speak with its inhabitants.

  No one knew what was said, or even where it occurred—the details had been lost to time or, more likely, buried.

  But one message remained: the act of reaching The Creator would grant the power to reshape the world.

  Some interpreted it as a path, a test to the succession of the role.

  Others devoted themselves to glorifying the unseen Creator.

  Now, however, most had forgotten. Nothing about the Creator was common knowledge.

  “So you’re saying this place is… what? A hub for worshippers?” Tyson asked, his voice quieter now.

  To him, this was uncharted territory. Everything about the Creator had been redacted—classified material, exclusive to Veil’s higher echelons.

  And Veil’s formation did coincide suspiciously with the descent of that cloaked figure.

  “Weirdly enough, this is the only one left. I’ve never heard of anyone who still practices—or even talks about the worshippers, or even the path to the Creator,” Yon said. “Veil basically owns all that info now.”

  “…maybe that’s for the best,” Tyson muttered.

  “You say something?”

  “No, nothing.”

  They arrived at what looked like the entrance—tall, metallic doors untouched by damage.

  “You’re here.”

  The voice caught their attention.

  A young woman leaned casually against one of the columns. It would be more accurate to say they couldn’t help but notice her.

  She had bright, silky golden hair that shimmered in the dim light. Her smile was radiant—and unreadable.

  “You’re the two sent by that basta— ahem—Cosmo?”

  They exchanged glances from the corners of their eyes before giving a slow nod.