Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September, 19XX — the assault on Zebuth Hill.

A light drizzle fell softly over the green fields, speckled with flowers that swayed to the rhythm of the wind. The sun, hidden behind dense gray clouds, barely allowed a few timid rays to filter through as they tried to pierce them. In the distance, between the mist and the horizon, a field of mud stretched—dark and desolate—contrasting with the serenity of the surrounding nature. The mud thickened under the rain, forming small puddles that mirrored the gloomy sky, while the distant echo of conflict crept closer.

Explosions, bursts of rifle fire in the distance, and shouts echoed through the air. A sharp whistle cut through the chaos. The once-green fields were now ravaged by thousands of footsteps, turned into brown wastelands, splattering their boots as they ran, leaping over barbed wire that stretched as far as their eyes could see. The stench of gunpowder and iron clung to the earth, while fear itself hung heavy in the air.

Dozens of beasts emerged from their trenches—carnivores and herbivores, shoulder to shoulder, fighting together.

“Advance! Just a little further, push!” roared the wolf officer, the whistle hanging from his neck as he led the charge.

They ran across the muddy field. The buzz of thousands of bullets cutting through the air surrounded them like a curtain of iron, threatening to tear apart anyone who tried to pass through it. Artillery explosions fell relentlessly, raising columns of dirt, stones, and shrapnel, disintegrating some of the soldiers into a red mist that mingled with the rain.

“Ahhh! My leg!” cried a young wolf amidst the chaos, lying on the wet ground, clutching at the mud as what remained of his leg bled profusely. The screams of pain mixed with the thunder of rifles and machine guns.

Some soldiers, wounded, were dragged by herbivores into the craters created by artillery, seeking refuge in the middle of the unending hell.

“Advance! We must reach the hill!” voices shouted among the roars of combatants and the smoke. The battlefield was flooded with death and destruction—a chaos of voices and broken orders.

“Almost there! Finish off those demons!” roared the wolf officer, leading a group of canines and other species toward the enemy trenches.

They leapt inside, engaging in brutal hand-to-hand combat with the humans waiting with bayonets ready. Shouts of fighting and gunfire echoed throughout the trench, painting it red.

“Kill every last one of them!” shouted one of the canines, his jaws covered in blood after tearing apart a human. But the brutality of battle only intensified. From one of the corridors, a human appeared wielding a flamethrower, spraying fire all around.

The flames engulfed those nearest, turning them into living torches. The screams of agony and pain filled the air as fireballs crossed the line of battle. Some soldiers, desperate, leapt out of the trench, rolling on the ground in a useless attempt to put out the flames. But the fire was merciless—sticky, impossible to extinguish. The stench of burnt hair and flesh filled every corner of that place.

The wolf officer, panting after the fight, covered in mud and blood, spotted the human with the flamethrower who had yet to notice him. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, tackling him into the mud among the corpses of beasts and humans, making him drop the weapon and fuel tank. Quickly, he tried to bite his neck, but his teeth couldn’t pierce the thick armor plating. His claws scraped uselessly across the armor, screeching.

The human recovered from the blow, drawing his trench knife, and slammed the brass knuckles into the wolf’s face with a brutal punch, cracking a fang with a dry snap and knocking him aside.

“Ahhhh! Die, damn beast!” roared the human with a hoarse voice, throwing himself upon the wolf with all his fury, trying to stab him.

The wolf blocked the attack with his hand, but the knife pierced his flesh; blood began to gush out, splattering his face. Even so, he resisted, holding the weapon back as the human’s furious gaze—hidden behind a mask—pierced him. In those eyes, he saw only hate, an insatiable fury that seemed to come straight from hell.

Suddenly, a rhinoceros burst in, charging the human and knocking him away from the wolf.

“Damn human!” roared the rhino with rage. The man crashed against the trench wall, letting out a cry of pain.

The wolf rose with difficulty, panting, his mouth and hand bleeding.

“Thank you… let’s finish these demons,” he said between breaths, pain and exhaustion in his voice. He could barely breathe, trembling from how close he’d come to death.

The wounded human stood again, his eyes burning with rage. Holding his broken ribs, his determination was almost inhuman. His gaze fixed on the flamethrower lying on the muddy, blood-stained ground. The rhino and the wolf followed his eyes to the weapon, still connected to the fuel tank.

In a final, desperate act, the human tried to crawl toward the flamethrower, but the rhino intercepted him, slamming him down with all his strength.

“You won’t!” he bellowed, pinning him to the ground with a painful growl.

The wolf, still weak but determined, ran to the flamethrower. He lifted it with effort and, without hesitation, fired a burst of flame. The rhino leapt aside just in time as the fire engulfed the human, who screamed as the flames devoured his flesh.

But instead of falling, the man drew his pistol with trembling hands. He aimed at the flamethrower’s tank, shouting with a voice torn by pain and hatred:

“Humanity first… DIE!”

The shot pierced the fuel tank, igniting it instantly, causing the flames to flare up. The human, engulfed in fire, hurled himself toward them with what little strength remained. As he advanced, his body twisted and melted under the flames consuming him, until what was once a man now looked like a skeletal shadow, laughing maniacally as he disintegrated.

The rhino and the wolf began to run, desperate to escape, but the explosion was immediate. A huge fireball reached them before they could get away. The rhino was thrown forward, flames consuming his back. The wolf, farther from the blast, screamed in pain as the fire scorched his forearm. Heat and flames engulfed them, covering the trench with death and destruction.

The battlefield trembled with the sound of gunfire and explosions. Now it was covered by a thick cloud of smoke and fire, the noise of dirt and mud mixed with blood falling around them.

The wolf could barely hear; a loud ringing echoed in his head. He couldn’t feel his forearm—charred and numb from the damage.

He tried to stand. His eyes scanned the field and saw, where the human had been, a massive smoking crater slowly filling with water and blood.

A few meters away, the rhino lay face down, his back still wrapped in flames clinging to his body like a shadow from hell. Without thinking, the wolf tore off his jacket—soaked in water and blood—and used it to try to smother the flames devouring the rhino. He managed to extinguish part of it, though the damage was already horrifically lethal.

Suddenly, a rabbit from the herbivore medical squad rushed over to tend to them.

“Sir! Let me see your wounds!” shouted the rabbit, but the wolf could only hear the persistent ringing in his ears.

“What!?” the wolf replied, confused.

The rabbit noticed blood coming from his left ear and gestured for him to touch it. When he did, the wolf felt the hot liquid staining his fingers with blood.

His mind was fogging, unable to process the chaos around him, but the persistent medic brought him back to reality.

“Let me treat you!” the rabbit insisted, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Treat him first!” the wolf ordered, shouting, pointing at the rhino.

The rabbit nodded reluctantly and, before moving to the rhino, injected the wolf with a dose of morphine to dull the pain. With the wolf’s help, they managed to sit the rhino up and bandage his wounds as best they could. Then the rabbit tended to the wolf, wrapping his burns and cuts to stop the bleeding.

“All right… I have to get back to my men,” said the wolf, struggling to stand, gripping his rifle.

He ran toward the front, where the battle still raged. The deafening sound of gunfire filled the air. A Labrador and other animals there—visibly stressed, faces covered in mud, blood, and rain—quickly noticed him. The Labrador ran up to him, panting.

“Sir! We can’t move forward!” he shouted, his trembling voice full of fear. “They have two machine guns on the path up the hill!”

“No other way to climb?” asked the wolf, shouting over the roar of bullets whizzing and ricocheting nearby.

“No, sir! Several tried to go around, but they were shredded by the gunfire!” answered the Labrador, eyes glassy with terror. He had seen his comrades blown apart, reduced to clouds of blood.

The wolf gritted his teeth. They couldn’t stay there.

“We have to find a way through those defenses! We can’t stay here!” he shouted, looking at everyone around him.

Then he saw it—a bald eagle crouched against the trench wall, clutching his rifle, trembling visibly, paralyzed by fear. The wolf, enraged by the desperation of the situation, ran toward him.

“You! Do you think you can take out that defense!?” he shouted, staring straight into the eagle’s eyes as bullets whizzed past and explosions shook the distance.

The eagle, paralyzed with terror, barely reacted. His eyes were wide. The wolf grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard.

“Soldier! I’m asking if you can take out those defenses!” he barked louder this time. Finally, the eagle stammered a reply.

“S-s-sir… we tried… but when we flew over, they… they fired covering rounds… killed several from my unit.”

The wolf looked at him in silence for a moment. Thinking fast, aware of the risk—it was a suicide mission, but there was no other option. He knew that if they didn’t destroy those machine guns, everyone would die in that hole.

He made his decision. His eyes hardened.

“We’ll give you covering fire when you start flying!” he said firmly, then turned to the others.

“Give me your remaining grenades!” he shouted.

The soldiers obeyed without hesitation, their hands trembling as they handed over what they had left. The wolf took a rope from his boot and tied the remaining grenades together, leaving the pins aligned so they could all be pulled at once. Then he handed them to the eagle.

“Take these! When you’re over them, pull the pins and drop them! We’ll cover you!”

He turned again to his men, scanning their faces. “Does anyone have a flare!?” he shouted.

The Labrador pulled a signal pistol from his bag and handed it to him quickly.

“Perfect! When I fire the flare to distract them, we’ll open fire to cover him! Get ready!”
The tension was palpable in the air; fear reflected in everyone’s eyes, but none dared to speak. They all trembled at what was to come—until the wolf officer’s shout broke the silence.

“Understood!” he barked.

“Yes, sir!” they answered with renewed energy.

The wolf took a small broken mirror from his belt and carefully peeked through a gap in the trench. He observed the humans manning the machine guns, watching every movement, waiting for someone to make the mistake of stepping out. With the mirror, he adjusted his aim and pointed the flare pistol upward, just enough for it to land in the right spot.

He pulled the trigger, and the flare shot into the sky, igniting right in front of the humans, releasing a blinding light accompanied by a dense cloud of white smoke that began to rise quickly.

Without wasting time, the wolf blew his whistle. Everyone advanced with him at the front, shouting as they took cover and began firing at the machine guns, creating a line of suppressive fire.

The eagle spread his wings and took off—flying fast toward the enemy. Bullets flew in every direction, and distant explosions only added to the chaos of the scene.

The humans, blinded and disoriented, began firing back toward the trench entrance, but the cover fire was enough for the eagle to reach his target.

As he flew above them, he pulled the grenade pins and dropped them over the machine guns. The human soldiers, sensing something falling from above, looked up—only to see the grenades before they exploded.

“RUN—!” one managed to shout before his voice was drowned by the roar of the blasts.

The machine guns were reduced to scrap, and their operators were killed instantly. From above, the eagle cheered his success, but a shot from the ground struck him. A human sniper, positioned at the top of the hill, had hit his wing. The bird spiraled down toward the muddy ground, unable to flap.

The wolf saw him fall, heart pounding, but he couldn’t stop—not now. The machine guns were destroyed, but the battle wasn’t over. They still had to take the position.

The whistle echoed through the air, and everyone began to advance. The wolf ran toward the eagle, who lay writhing in the mud, his wing bleeding heavily, mangled from the fall. His companion, a Labrador, hurried over to help, trying to keep calm.

"Ahhh, my wing... I think it’s broken!" the eagle screamed, clenching his beak in pain.

"Easy, I’ll get you to the medics," the Labrador replied, lifting him with effort and carrying him over his shoulders while dodging bodies and comrades charging toward the front.

"Don’t you die on me, come on!" he shouted between gasps, feeling the eagle’s weight as he ran through the trench toward the medical area.

When he arrived, the place was a hellscape filled with screams, groans, and the stench of blood saturating the air. Some soldiers sat in shock, others writhed beneath blood-soaked bandages.

"I need a medic!" he shouted desperately.

A gray-furred cat, one of the medics, rushed over to assist. They carefully laid the eagle down; his feathers were drenched in blood, his face pale.

"Hey, look at me!" the dog yelled, giving him light slaps on the cheek — but the eagle didn’t respond. The medic examined him quickly, his expression turning grim.

"Damn it... he’s lost too much blood. The bullet tore through an artery," the cat said, glancing up at the Labrador with a grave look. "We’ll have to amputate the arm, or he won’t survive."

The medic took a tourniquet and tightened it around the eagle’s wounded wing, pressing firmly to stop the bleeding. He prepared the morphine to ease the pain. The eagle, panting heavily, murmured faintly,

"I did it... I really did it..." His voice was weak, but still conscious.

The Labrador looked at him with a mix of pride and sorrow. "Yeah... you did it. But now you have to live," he said hoarsely, leaning in to hear the eagle’s fading voice.

"If I don’t make it... tell my parents I love them... and my fiancée... that I loved her..."

His voice faded into a whisper as the medic began the amputation swiftly and precisely, trying to save his life. The tools sliced through flesh amid the screams and the distant drone of artillery.

The Labrador turned his gaze away, unable to bear the brutality of the procedure, the sound of flesh being cut and metal instruments filling him with helplessness.

He looked back toward the battlefield stretching before him — a true hell on earth. Corpses were scattered across the muddy ground, the gray sky heavy with clouds, and a fine drizzle fell endlessly, soaking everything.

In the distance, a small city smoked, nearly destroyed, black columns of smoke rising into the sky. The field, stained red, bore witness to the countless lives extinguished there.

The Labrador breathed heavily, feeling the weight of the war pressing down on his shoulders, unable to tear his eyes away from the desolate scene. Every corner of that once-beautiful place now stood as a monument to death and destruction. The metallic smell of blood made him nauseous. He wanted to vomit at the bloody sight before him.

But before nausea overtook him, he heard shouts of joy in the distance. He turned his head quickly toward the hill — a white flag fluttered in the wind, signaling the end of the battle. His comrades on the hill cheered the humans’ surrender, raising their arms in triumph. It was over...

The hum of the projector faded slowly as the machine shut down, leaving the room in an uneasy silence. The classroom lights flicked on, revealing the attentive faces of the students — a mix of carnivores and herbivores sitting in their seats, processing what they had just learned.

Some murmured to each other, exchanging impressions, while others remained silent, reflecting on the long conflict that had just been explained.

At the front of the class, Professor Helen — a bison of imposing presence — stepped away from the projector and crossed her arms, watching her diverse audience of young animals of many species.

"That was how, on September 1st, 19XX, humans finally surrendered," she said firmly. "A day later, on September 2nd, the ceasefire was signed, officially ending the conflict that pitted hominids against carnivores and herbivores."

Helen paced slowly in front of the class, observing the astonished faces.

"General Franz Welcker, representing the Animal United Nations (A.U.N.), and General Norbert Bauman, representing the United Human Nations, signed the peace treaty.

In that agreement, the remaining humans — also known as hominids — were exiled to a remote island off our city of Zebuth, located on the eastern plate of our country, called Eden, under the condition that they would never again interfere with the remaining nations, now governed by the A.U.N. and its allies."

Professor Helen, instructor of World History at Cherryton Academy, watched her class attentively as she explained the details of that monumental historical moment. After a pause, she looked around, searching for questions.

"Any questions on the topic?"

A young Labrador raised his hand eagerly.

"Yes, Jack, what would you like to ask?" Helen said patiently.

"I’m curious," Jack replied, tilting his head slightly. "How long did the war against the humans last?"

Helen nodded, aware of the importance of her answer.

"Well," she began, "it all started in 19XX, when herbivores and carnivores signed peace among ourselves. However, the humans took advantage of that truce to continue the conflict, which dragged on until 19XX. In total, the war lasted forty-five years."

"And after that?" Jack asked quickly, jotting down notes.

"After the humans’ exile, there was no significant activity from them for one hundred and seventeen years... until recently, when they began trading with us again."

The classroom remained silent, the weight of those words hanging heavily over the young students. Jack kept writing, determined not to miss a single detail.

"Any other questions?" Helen asked again, scanning the room. A young black-furred Labrador raised her hand.

"Professor... why did the humans start another war?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

Helen sighed thoughtfully.

"Truly, no one knows for certain. Some records suggest they sought to seize our nations to rule over us, though no clear or proven motive exists." Her answer left more questions than it solved, but she chose to continue the lesson.

"Alright, if that’s all..." she began, but was interrupted once again by Jack, hand raised high.

"Professor, before we finish — are hominids carnivores or herbivores?" he asked, his curiosity evident.

Helen smiled faintly at the innocence of the question.

"They are neither, Jack. They’re omnivores — they can eat both meat and plants, and unlike us, they can better control their impulses. They can also consume foods that would be toxic to us without suffering harm."

The class listened intently, fascinated by what seemed impossible to them.

"Interestingly," she added in a formal tone, "during the war, it was said that their soldiers took a substance that made their flesh toxic, preventing carnivores from devouring them. Their bodies decomposed quickly... leaving no trace."

Jack wrote eagerly while Helen glanced at the clock.

"Alright, class is about to end. Remember to turn in your essay next week on how our city’s history influenced the A.U.N.’s victory," she instructed just as the bell rang, signaling the end of the period.

"You may go. Have a good weekend... oh, and if you have questions, you can email me," she added kindly as the students gathered their things and quietly left the classroom.

Jack packed up his materials and left the room, still thinking about the report he had to prepare for history class. The professor’s words echoed in his mind. Maybe I can look up some information later in the library or online, he thought.

Lost in thought, he walked down the hallway flipping through his notebook until he bumped into someone.

"Ah! I’m so sorry!" he exclaimed, looking up.

Before him stood Principal Gon, an imposing Bengal tiger.

"Don’t worry about it, Jack. I was distracted too," the principal said with a kind smile, courteously hiding his fangs.

"I’m really sorry, sir. I wasn’t paying attention," Jack apologized again quickly.

"It’s fine," Gon repeated. "I have something urgent to attend to. Have a good day."

The principal walked off briskly, leaving Jack puzzled.

That’s odd... the principal seemed nervous, he thought, watching him disappear down the hall.

When Gon reached the academy entrance, a sleek black car was waiting with its engine running. He stepped out toward the vehicle. The rear door opened, revealing a lioness elegantly dressed in a business suit and a long skirt. Gon climbed in beside her.

"Good morning, Else," Gon greeted as he closed the door.

"Good morning, Gon. Ready to meet with the A.U.N. Council?" she replied, offering a faint smile that couldn’t quite hide her seriousness.

Gon sighed, visibly burdened. He knew that the meeting with the council—where multiple species debated the most delicate matters—wouldn’t be easy.

"Honestly, I don’t even know what they want this time," he said as the car began descending the hill. "It’s been hard years for our academy. We haven’t produced a single Beastar in a long time… and now I have to deal with the death of a student… devoured."

"I know, Gon," Else replied in a softer tone, "but I don’t think that’s what today’s meeting is about. The council has been deeply concerned ever since the humans resumed contact with us."

Gon frowned, intrigued.

"Tell me, Else… have you seen the humans? I’ve heard that, as a diplomat, you’ve been quite involved in the whole matter."

Else fell silent for a few seconds, lowering her gaze as if searching for the right words to describe what she had seen.

"In a way… yes. When they sent their first crew to negotiate, after we received their official letter—which took everyone by surprise—we thought it was someone’s prank..." She paused before continuing.

"It’s hard to describe them, but… they all dressed the same: some sort of black armored uniform. They wore helmets that completely covered their heads, with smooth masks. We couldn’t see a single face. Some wore cloaks that hid one of their arms, but none of them were armed… or at least, that’s what we assumed."

Gon frowned, unsettled by the eerie description. It was difficult for him to imagine that these mysterious figures were the same humans the world had banished so long ago. The last known sighting of humans had been generations ago, and now they had returned in a way that seemed far more intimidating than diplomatic.

"The most striking thing," Else continued, "was when one of them, wearing a white uniform with black stripes, stepped out of the ship. He was escorted by two figures dressed in black with red accents, their masks fitted with crimson visors. Everyone on board saluted him as a superior. He walked toward us… and introduced himself as their diplomat."

Else paused, visibly affected by the memory.

"I had never felt such overwhelming pressure. Even the officers and soldiers with us were terrified… I thought I was going to faint when I greeted them."

Gon remained silent. It wasn’t only the chilling description that struck him, but the realization that this was the first time anyone had seen humans since their exile over a century ago.

"So… the humans are returning," he murmured, more to himself than to Else.

The car rolled down the hill into the bustling city below, filled with beasts of all kinds. Gon stared out the window, lost in thought, before turning back to her.

"So, what did they negotiate?"

Else sighed, as if replaying the encounter in her mind.

"Well, the human diplomat said they only wanted to trade. Grains, vegetables, herbs… some things like wine. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"I see… I understand," Gon replied, though his expression betrayed unease. A question lingered in his mind.

"Tell me, Else… when he spoke to you, what did his voice sound like?"

She looked at him, puzzled.

"His voice?"

"Yes. My great-grandfather used to say humans spoke with harsh, unnatural voices. Though… well, he lived through the war," Gon explained, recalling the stories his father had passed down.

Else thought for a moment before answering.

"Hmm… it sounded quite normal, actually. Even friendly. But the mask distorted it a little," she said, remembering the sound she had heard during the negotiations.

"Interesting…" Gon murmured, his gaze drifting toward the windshield as the driver stopped at a red light. "So, they weren’t demons after all."

"Why do you say that?" she asked, curious about the remark.

"My great-grandfather described them as possessed monsters. He said they never surrendered—no matter what, not even when they were wounded. Or at least, that’s what my father used to repeat from his stories. Honestly… I don’t know what to believe anymore."

He spoke with a mix of confusion and doubt. Though his family’s stories had always marked him, he was beginning to question them.

Else, on the other hand, had never heard such tales in her own family, but she knew the historical records of the wars well. She had studied them carefully. In those accounts, humans were never the strongest, nor the fastest, nor the most agile. In terms of intelligence, they were about equal.

However, what terrified everyone the most was the one trait every report agreed upon: even when surrounded or outnumbered, humans kept fighting without stopping. Even when gravely wounded, they pressed on, showing no fear—only an unbreakable will. That, more than strength, agility, or intellect, was what truly frightened those who faced them.

The car stopped abruptly, jolting them slightly.

"We’ve arrived, ma’am," announced the driver, a black panther glancing at them through the rearview mirror.

"Thank you," Else replied.

Both stepped out, pausing a moment before the main building. Its white stone columns radiated authority and solemnity. They climbed the steps and passed through the large double doors. Inside, the main hall was guarded by several sentries. After passing security, they walked down a long corridor lined with white metal doors, ending at a pair of dark wooden ones.

As they approached, raised voices echoed from within. A heated argument was underway.
When they entered, chaos ruled the room. Representatives of various species sat around a round table, with those holding voting privileges seated at the upper sides. At that moment, however, everyone seemed to be shouting over one another. The tension in the room was palpable.

The argument stopped abruptly as they entered. All eyes turned toward them. A tense silence filled the chamber.

Gon could feel every gaze fixed upon him—and Else too—until one of the members, an anteater, finally broke the silence.

"Ah, Else, Gon — I see you’ve arrived. Please, have a seat."

Both sat down. Gon exhaled deeply, visibly tired and stressed by the sudden summons.

"I’m sure you’re wondering why we called you here," said the anteater in a grave tone, "but it’s a matter of great importance that we must discuss."

Gon adjusted himself in his chair.

"Yes, I was wondering that myself, Mr. Koda," he replied, with a hint of irony and concern for anything that might affect the academy. "Does it have anything to do with what happened to the student last week?"

"No," Koda denied. "It’s about something else we were discussing this morning," he explained, trying to ease Gon’s concern. "I assume you already know that humans reestablished contact with us two years ago, after a century of silence."

"Yes, Else mentioned something about that on our way here."

"Well," Koda continued, "this morning we received another letter from the humans. It arrived aboard a small ship and was delivered directly to customs. It was brought with the utmost urgency."

Else straightened in outrage.

"Why wasn’t I informed!?" she exclaimed, feeling anger rise in her chest. She couldn’t stand being kept out of something so significant.

"There was no time," Koda replied calmly. "The messenger brought it with such urgency that we thought it too important to wait—and we were right. That’s why we asked you to bring the head of Cherryton Academy, so we could discuss the matter at hand."

Gon raised an eyebrow.

“And what exactly is this matter?” he asked, tired of all the roundabout talk. “What does it have to do with me?”

Koda took a deep breath.

“Well… the letter said they want to establish a closer diplomatic relationship. They sent a message saying they wish to send a human to study at one of our academies as a symbol of peace between our nations, so that we can… get to know each other better, despite our differences in the past.”

Gon and Else were stunned. The room, which had briefly fallen silent, once again filled with heated discussions.

“We can’t allow a human here, that’s insane! What if he comes with bad intentions?” roared a giraffe from across the table.

“I think we should think this through. What if he’s coming to spy on us?” added a red elk.

The arguments grew louder until Koda, visibly annoyed, furrowed his brow.

“Silence!” he barked, slamming the table. Everyone fell quiet immediately.

“That’s why we called you here, Gon,” he continued, his tone calmer but weary of the endless debates. “As you can see, we can’t seem to reach an agreement. We want to know your opinion.”

Gon blinked, taken aback by the responsibility suddenly placed upon him. After a moment of thought, he sighed and rubbed his temples with his fingers.

“What a bother…” he muttered under his breath as the murmurs in the council began to rise again.

He lifted his gaze, meeting everyone’s eyes, and the room fell silent once more.

“Well… I think it would be a good opportunity to show them how much things have changed. We’re a little more tolerant now than before. It’s a unique chance for any academy—especially ours, which accepts both carnivores and herbivores equally.”

The room stayed silent as Gon’s gaze swept across the table, gauging every reaction.
Koda watched him with a composed expression.

“Do you think you could receive him at your academy?” he asked bluntly.

Gon leaned back in his seat, trying to think of a way out of the situation.

“Well, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea… after that predation incident at the academy… it’d be bad if they found out,” he said, scratching his neck nervously. “It would be a disaster if they did.”

Despite his cautious tone, deep down he knew accepting the human could bring prestige to the academy. It would be the first to host a student from such an enigmatic species—a historic milestone.

Koda remained calm, resting his hands on the table.

“Mmm, but there’s no reason for him to find out. Besides, since he’s a diplomatic student, we could increase this year’s budget and reinforce campus security to protect him.”

The proposal was tempting. Gon exhaled in resignation.

“I suppose… yes,” he finally admitted.

Despite his initial resistance, he couldn’t let such an opportunity pass. The room filled with murmurs—some looked at him in disbelief, others in concern.

“But before any of that, we need to prepare for his arrival,” Gon added, his curiosity now piqued. “When do you plan to respond to the letter so they can send him?”

Koda hesitated; his tone turned uneasy.

“Well… about that…” he paused before continuing.

“At the end of the letter, they mentioned they’d be sending him… early tomorrow morning.”

Silence fell instantly. Gon stared at him, speechless, his fur bristling slightly as his expression shifted from shock to desperation.

“What!? Why didn’t you say that sooner?! We don’t even have enough time to prepare!” he shouted, slamming the table.

“I know, I know,” Koda replied, trying to calm him down. “We discussed it with other academies, but none of them wanted to accept him. You, on the other hand, agreed… but don’t worry, we knew this might happen someday, so we already have a plan. You’ll just need to inform the teachers,” he explained nervously.

Gon muttered through his teeth, exhausted, lowering his head.

“Why do I even bother…” he sighed before standing up.

“All right, I’d better get going and start preparing,” he said seriously as he headed for the door.

“Wait,” Koda stopped him before he could leave. Gon turned around.

“Tomorrow we’ll come for you and head to the dock, to bring him safely to the academy.”
Gon nodded silently and left the room. As he walked away, the voices of the representatives rose again behind the doors.

“Ah… what a mess I’ve gotten myself into,” he thought. “A human coming to our academy… I just hope he doesn’t cause even more trouble.”

Halfway down the hallway, Else caught up with him.

“Wait, I’ll give you a ride,” she said, walking beside him.

“Thanks, Else,” he replied tiredly.

They passed through security again and exited to where the car awaited. The driver started the engine as soon as he saw them approaching. Both got in, and the driver glanced at them through the rearview mirror.

“Where to, ma’am?” he asked, awaiting instructions.

“To Cherryton Academy, please,” Else answered kindly.

“Right away.”

The vehicle started moving. Gon closed his eyes, pressing his temples with his fingers as the headache from all the chaos throbbed. Else noticed his gesture and felt a flicker of concern for him.

“What’s wrong? After all, you were the one who accepted the deal.”

“How was I supposed to know he’d be arriving tomorrow?!” Gon burst out, frustrated, eyes snapping open.

Else gently interrupted him, placing a finger over his mouth to quiet him. She looked toward the driver, who understood the signal and activated the privacy window, sealing them off from the front cabin.

“All right, now we can talk,” she said, removing her finger. “What were you saying?”

“I said, how could I have known the human would arrive tomorrow… they practically set me up,” Gon replied, calmer now, venting his frustration.

“I know,” Else said, leaning back in her seat. “But look at it another way—maybe in the future, humans will integrate into our society, and this could be the first step to see if that’s even possible.”

Gon sighed, massaging his temples again.

“Whatever the case, I just hope he doesn’t turn everything upside down,” he muttered, still fighting off his headache.

Else smiled, patting his shoulder in reassurance.

“Come on, cheer up…”

Gon exhaled wearily, gazing out the window. The city passed by—peaceful… too peaceful for what was about to come.

The sound of waves crashing against the coast filled the air, while the gentle sea breeze refreshed everything with its salty scent. In the distance, a female voice called out along the dirt path.

“Elias! Elias! Where are you?” shouted the young woman, hurrying her steps.

“Over here, María!” answered a male voice.

María ran toward the sound. When she arrived, she found Elias sitting under a tree. His long brown hair swayed in the wind, partially hiding his ears. His pale pink complexion glowed in the sunlight. He wore a fitted blue-gray shirt over his athletic torso and loose black pants stained with dirt. His shoes were dusty, and with his hands behind his head, he stretched and let out a yawn.

“Elias! Father’s looking for you!” María scolded, crossing her arms with a frown.

Elias slowly opened his sky-blue eyes and looked at her calmly. María, with the same long brown hair and matching blue eyes, glared back at him, hands on her hips. She wore a long pale pink skirt, a white button-up blouse that covered her shoulders, and simple shoes.

“Brother! Father said you were supposed to go to the meeting at the church,” she reprimanded again as she approached, visibly annoyed.

“Yes, I know, I know,” Elias replied with a weary sigh. “I just want a break from field work and the army drills. I never get any time for myself. Between studies and everything else…” he complained, leaning back against the tree again. “You know military service is mandatory. I just need some rest.”

María rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, tired of hearing the same excuse.

“You know if you don’t go, the church father will punish you again—just like last time,” she warned firmly.

A shiver ran down Elias’s back as he remembered his previous punishment: cleaning the entire church with nothing but a sponge and a bucket of water. He quickly stood up.

“All right, all right, you win. I’m going,” he said, stretching lazily as he abandoned his comfortable spot.

“By the way, did you bring your mask?” María asked, noticing he didn’t have it with him.

“Uh… yeah, it’s on the bike,” he replied, going behind the tree and pulling out his bicycle. In the basket was a white full-face mask decorated with eight dark blue eyes painted on it.

“And you? Did you bring yours?”

“Yes, I have it right here,” said María, showing the mask hanging at her side. Hers was different—black, with a golden cross drawn across it, covering the right eye completely.

“Good,” Elias nodded, placing his mask over his head without pulling it down completely. María followed his lead as Elias got onto the bike.

“Come on, little sister,” he said, motioning toward the back seat.

María sighed but complied, sitting sideways and wrapping one arm around his waist.

“Don’t go too fast, okay? You ride so recklessly it feels like I’m going to fall off,” she warned, tightening her grip.

“I know, I know, I’ll be careful,” Elias replied with a crooked smile as he began pedaling down the dirt path.

As they went along, the dirt road gradually turned into a more even stone path. They passed fields of grains, vegetables, and trees swaying in the wind. In the distance, farmers’ houses dotted the landscape, and farther ahead, a thirty-meter-high stone wall loomed over the nearby wooden and cobblestone buildings.

Elias stopped briefly as a tram full of passengers rumbled past toward the nearby station, then continued pedaling. The streets were crowded with pedestrians; the clamor mixed with the metallic rattle of rails.

When they reached the entrance at the wall, a guard in an orange uniform with light armor raised his hand.

“Halt!” he ordered as they approached.

Elias braked sharply, letting out a huff.

“What do you want now, Tamer? Can’t you see I’m in a hurry?” he said, recognizing his friend.

A young man with short dark hair, light brown eyes, and pearly skin smiled at him.

“Nothing, just wanted to make you late,” he joked with a light laugh. “Nah, just kidding. But I heard there’s some important announcement at the church today—and that you were summoned. Do you know what for?” His tone softened with genuine curiosity.

“Yeah, though I have no idea what it’s about,” Elias replied tiredly, lowering his head. “I just hope it’s not more work. I’ve got enough on my plate already.”

Tamer chuckled at his friend’s weary reaction.

“Come on, man. Maybe it’s something good. Have a little faith,” he said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Elias looked at him with frustrated resignation.

“Yeah, yeah…”

Then Tamer noticed María sitting behind Elias, watching him with a small smile.

“María! I didn’t see you there,” he said, blushing slightly.

“Yeah, I came to get this fool who keeps running away from his duties,” she replied with a laugh.

Still flustered, Tamer grinned widely.

“Hmm,” Elias grunted, drawing their attention.

“Well, we’d better get going. See you there,” Elias said, starting to pedal again.

“Yeah, they said we’ll be allowed to leave our post during the announcement,” Tamer replied enthusiastically.

“Perfect. See you later, then,” Elias said, pedaling off.

“Goodbye, Tamer!” María called as they passed by, still sitting on the back of the bike.

As they crossed through the gate, Tamer shouted after them,

“Hey, good luck!” waving his hand in farewell.

María turned back, smiling, and waved in return.

As they rode on, the streets grew livelier. Shops and houses made of brick and wood lined the sidewalks, decorated with lampposts. The cobblestone streets were marked with signs, and every now and then, a car drove through the crowd. Those were rare, though—only the wealthy could afford gasoline, since the island’s reserves were limited, most of it reserved for the military.

Elias pedaled quickly through the bustling streets. Upon reaching the center, he took the road that climbed the hill where the cathedral stood. Gradually, the buildings faded behind them, giving way to a green field blanketed with colorful flowers and a small stream flowing nearby, filling the air with tranquility.

At the top, the cathedral rose tall and majestic, dominating the view as a sacred symbol of the place.

Determined to arrive on time, Elias pedaled with all his strength up the stone path. Finally, he reached the temple’s entrance, where two enormous wooden doors awaited. He stopped the bike abruptly, leaning forward and panting to catch his breath.

“Ah, we made it,” he exhaled heavily.

María got off the bike, amused.

“Ha! What good are all those muscles if you can’t even climb a hill?” she teased playfully.

“Well, maybe if I didn’t have to carry a sack of potatoes…” Elias shot back sarcastically—only to get smacked on the head.

“How dare you call me that?!” María protested, indignant, while he rubbed his head, wincing in pain.

“Ow! I was just kidding, sis, I didn’t mean it…” Elias said with a grimace.

She crossed her arms, still pouting. He knew she was still upset.

“Sorry—how about I take you to eat Jutsuku noodles later?” he offered, knowing it was her favorite place.

Hearing that, María’s eyes lit up, though she tried to hide it.

“All right, I accept your apology. But you’re paying,” she said, feigning sternness.
Elias smiled in relief.

“Perfect. We’d better head in; today’s sermon has probably already started. Put your mask on,” he reminded her, pulling his own down to fully cover his face. María did the same, adjusting hers carefully.

Elias leaned the bike against a nearby tree and climbed the small steps leading to the cathedral’s massive doors, with his sister following close behind.

Carefully, he pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. At the altar stood the priest, cloaked entirely in black. He wore gloves and a white mask adorned with a golden star at the center, surrounded by religious symbols, as he spoke before the congregation.

Elias motioned for Maria to follow him quietly. Taking advantage of a momentary distraction as the priest turned around, they slipped inside silently. Both hid among the pews crowded with worshippers, all wearing masks decorated in different colors and designs. They moved carefully until they found a place to sit nearby, just as the priest turned back again.

“Our Lord, may Your will be done in these sacred lands inhabited by Your children! Do not let us fall into the clutches of those who do evil. Bless the faithful who follow You with Your strength, Lord, and protect them from the nightmares that lurk outside this paradise—Your little Eden!” exclaimed the priest, his arms lifted toward the ceiling painted with angels and skies.

“Guide us toward a tomorrow filled with splendor and peace! Amen!” he concluded, bringing his hands together.

“Amen!” everyone answered in unison.

The priest lowered his arms and spoke again in a calm voice.

“Elias… late again.”

Elias froze. Sweat trickled down his forehead; he wished the ground would swallow him whole. He stood up nervously.

“I—I’m sorry, Father… I lost track of time, I had to take care of something before coming…” he stammered, trying to sound convincing, hoping his excuse would be believed.

The priest looked at him in silence before turning toward Maria, who also grew nervous under the weight of his gaze.

“Is that true, Maria?” the priest’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. Though he wore a mask, she could feel his eyes piercing through her.

Maria stood, her legs trembling.

“Y-yes, Father… I was the one who went looking for Elias,” she said, her words faltering as she lied, terrified of the punishment.

The priest observed them in silence for several seconds that felt eternal before finally nodding slowly.

“I see. Take your seats.”

The pew creaked as they sat back down, both releasing a quiet sigh of relief, silently grateful that the priest had accepted the lie.

“Now then, let us continue with what brings us together today,” the priest went on, adjusting his mask. “The government of Eden will make an important announcement today. Come with me, my children, to the field, where we shall take our places and wait for the rest.”

With those final words, he stepped down from the altar with measured steps. Everyone in the church rose from their seats and followed him toward the doors in procession. Before they reached the exit, the priest stopped Elias with a hand on his shoulder.

“You, Elias—you’re coming with me.”

Elias nodded, a knot forming in his throat. The doors opened wide, letting in a rush of fresh air.

Their many footsteps echoed as they walked down the main stone path and took a turn onto a small dirt trail that crossed a field of wildflowers in every color.

In the distance, across the green expanse, stood a platform adorned with flags and banners fluttering in the wind.

The flag of the nation—blue, with a white horizontal line and another vertical one on the right side—bore the image of a human holding a spear in a majestic stance, clouds partially covering his figure.

Elias couldn’t help but marvel at the decorative details of the place. “This looks important… I should’ve dressed more formally,” he thought with frustration.

The city’s bells began to ring, filling the air with their metallic resonance.

They climbed the platform steps, and the priest motioned for Elias to sit.

“Take a seat and wait for the officials to arrive.”

Elias obeyed, taking one of the many empty chairs as he watched the crowd growing rapidly. Men, women, and children—all masked—were gathering before the stage. The priest approached the podium and, with a firm, clear voice, began to speak.

“My children! Today is an important day for our nation, and for all of you as well. Let us offer a few words of blessing for this young man as we await the arrival of the officials.”

Elias felt the weight of hundreds of eyes upon him. Tension coursed through his body as the priest raised his arms, followed by the crowd doing the same.

“Lord, who dwells in our heavens and in our hearts, bless this young man so that he may follow the path of light and wisdom!”

The people echoed his words fervently, raising their arms toward the sky. Elias, uneasy, could hardly conceal his discomfort, thinking the whole thing was overdone.

“I’m not the most devout… but this is a bit much,” he thought, watching as the priest carried on with his speech, undisturbed by the magnitude of the ceremony.

While the priest continued speaking, Elias barely paid attention. His gaze drifted over the crowd until he saw movement beyond the church. Several vehicles bearing the government’s emblem and military trucks were parking in the distance, followed by a group of journalists not far behind.

Elias looked away just as the priest was finishing his prayer.

“Amen!” the priest said fervently, and the crowd repeated it in unison.

As the prayer ended, Elias noticed among the officers stepping out of the vehicles a man of imposing stature who stood out among the rest. He wore a white uniform with black stripes and a red cape draped over his right arm, adorned with a military insignia. His face was hidden behind a mask and helmet. Elias couldn’t help the knot forming in his stomach—he recognized that uniform.

He had seen it before, back at the training grounds. He knew it belonged to the Minister of Foreign Affairs of the nation of Eden.

This minister wasn’t alone. He was accompanied by several high-ranking officers and his personal guard—elite soldiers. Elias had heard about them but had never seen them in person. Their presence made the air feel heavier as they approached. Fully aware of the importance of this meeting, Elias stood at once, trying to maintain his composure.

The priest, too, noticed their arrival. He raised a hand, signaling the crowd to open a path immediately, clearing a way toward the platform. The officials advanced with steady, confident steps.

The guards among the people saluted the minister and the other officers respectfully; Elias nervously mimicked them.

The minister and his entourage ascended the stage as journalists took their positions. Some held cameras, others recorders or large video equipment, ready to document the event live. The personal guards stood at the entrance, silent and watchful.

Seeing the officials reach the platform, the priest stepped aside from the podium to receive them, exchanging brief formal words and shaking each of their hands with due respect.

Then, a government man approached the podium—it was the city’s mayor, dressed in a suit and a simple white mask. He took the slightly worn microphone that an assistant handed up from below the platform. The mayor nodded in thanks.

“Thank you,” he said, tapping the microphone lightly to test it. Clearing his throat, he continued, “First of all, I’d like to thank the priest for welcoming us on this special day. Now, if you’ll allow me, I’ll begin. Today is a very important day for our country of Eden, and I have the honor of presenting to you the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Tyler Hughes; General Norbert Bauman the Third; and the Minister of the Supreme Court, Malte Maisner, who honor us with their presence.”

The crowd applauded enthusiastically as the mayor handed the microphone to Minister Hughes. The minister rose elegantly from his seat and walked to the podium. The audience continued clapping until he raised his hand to ask for silence.

“As always, I thank Mayor Jacob for his warm welcome and the hospitality of the citizens of Ainthen,” he began, his voice deep and resonant.

The applause resumed for a few seconds until he lifted his hand again.

“But I came here to speak of something far more important. I know it’s no secret that, for the past two years, we’ve been trading with the beasts of the continent once belonging to humanity. I understand that, for many of you, it’s still hard to forget what happened during that dreadful war that cost us thousands of lives. I don’t expect you to forgive them easily… for those cruel acts they committed in the past.”

The people stirred, their faces filled with anger and conviction as they listened.

“And it is precisely for that reason that I am here—to bring you an important announcement. Today, we will take the first step toward rebuilding friendly relations with them.”

The crowd stared in disbelief; murmurs spread among them until outrage erupted. Some shouted that he was insane, others that he had lost his mind. The minister raised both hands, calling for calm.

“Peace, peace! Let me finish!” he insisted, and though upset, the crowd fell silent to listen.

“Do not mistake me. This new relationship does not mean blind trust. We will not lower our guard should they attempt anything against us. However, I also know we cannot remain isolated from the outside world forever.”

The crowd quieted, listening intently.

“If we do not take the first step, they will—and they will treat us as they please.”

His voice thundered with conviction, and the crowd waited in tense silence.

“That is why the court, along with the ministers and the general, has decided to send one of our best students to one of their academies. A young man who will represent the discipline and wisdom of the human spirit. He will go not as a subject, but as a symbol—to show those beasts that they will never break us.”

The minister raised his right fist and shouted,

“THE HUMAN SOUL WILL NEVER SURRENDER! WE SHALL PREVAIL AGAINST ANY EXISTING THREAT!”

He cried out with power, striking the podium with his closed hand, igniting the crowd’s fervor. The roar of the people became deafening, echoing through the city and reaching even those watching the broadcast or listening over the radio. Elias watched, stunned, his heart pounding wildly.

“EDEN WILL PREVAIL — AND SO WILL ITS HUMANITY!” Hughes shouted, stirring the crowd once more as they raised their fists.

“Long live humanity!” the throng cried, swept up in the euphoria, their voices merging into a roar of fervor and hope.

Elias remained motionless, his gaze lost among the crowd. A cold shiver ran down his spine. The idea of sending someone to the Continent of Beasts terrified him… but something in the minister’s words unsettled him even more.

“Send someone?” he thought. He scanned the faces in the crowd searching for the supposedly chosen student, but found only anonymous, masked faces. No one was standing in the center. No one—except him.

A cold sweat began to trickle down his forehead. His breathing grew erratic.

“This can’t be… This isn’t real… they must be waiting to name him,” he told himself, trying to convince his racing mind. “It’s not me, it can’t be me.”

Then Hughes’s voice hammered like a mallet.

“And the student chosen for this mission is… Elias Wulfhart.”

Elias felt the world stop. The words echoed in his head, slow and heavy as a verdict. The crowd, far from calming, erupted into cheers and applause. But Elias barely heard them. Everything around him blurred, sounds muffled, and only the echo of his own name repeated in his skull.

“This can’t be happening,” he thought. Yet reality was undeniable. He had been chosen, and there was no turning back.

The crowd’s chant of his name swelled around him as Hughes searched the sea of faces and gestured for him to approach. Elias remained paralyzed, his mind blank. It was the priest who gently pushed him forward, snapping him back to the present. He stumbled toward the podium, greeting the minister in automatic motions, scarcely aware of what he was doing. Shouts surrounded him; camera flashes blinded him.

Noticing Elias still holding his hand to his forehead, Hughes leaned in slightly and murmured, “You can rest, son. Lower your arm.”

Elias obeyed, stiff and robotic. Hughes addressed the crowd again.

“He will be Eden’s guide toward a secure and prosperous future! He will bring the peace needed so those beasts will not dare meddle with us again! He will show those beasts that humanity will never kneel! THE HUMAN SOUL WILL NEVER SURRENDER!”

The crowd roared. Applause, cries and cheers filled the air. Were it not for the mask covering his face, everyone would have seen the terror reflected on Elias’s features. Among the people, María did not celebrate. She felt a knot in her stomach—she knew her brother was terrified.

Hughes raised his hand, calling for silence.

“As you know,” he continued in a firm voice, “this young man was selected among the best in his category for studies, discipline, and conviction. He was also chosen because he ranks among the top three in mastery of the language of those beasts and has a sound knowledge of their culture.”

Applause erupted again. Elias swallowed, still processing every word. Hughes inclined his head slightly toward him, never losing control of the speech.

“And for that reason,” he said, “he will depart tomorrow at dawn. I myself will accompany him to the coast to ensure his safe arrival.”

The announcement provoked a mixture of surprise and excitement in the crowd, which shouted and clapped with renewed energy. Elias, however, felt on the verge of fainting.

“It has been an honor to visit this beautiful city and its people,” Hughes concluded. “May God save humanity!”

With that he ended the declaration, took Elias by the shoulder, and led him off the stage alongside the other officials. The crowd parted, enthusiastic, while journalists continued snapping photos, the camera flashes assaulting Elias’s eyes.

María watched, heart in her throat, as they took her brother away—helpless, able only to look on.

They walked to the vehicles. Two of Hughes’s soldiers seized Elias firmly by the arms and helped him climb into the back of a truck. He offered no resistance as the other soldiers boarded and took their seats. One of them rapped the side of the truck to signal the driver they were ready to depart. As the vehicle pulled away, the echoes of the crowd still hung in the air, but to Elias everything felt distant, as if trapped in a nightmare he could not wake from.

One of Hughes’s personal guards sitting beside him tapped his shoulder lightly.

“Relax, kid. It’s not like you’re going to war,” he said in a friendly tone, chuckling softly behind his mask.

Another guard, smaller and leaner, leaned toward him.

“Yeah, take it easy. When we get there, we can teach you a few tricks to control your fear of them,” he remarked in a higher, almost mocking voice.

Elias nodded silently, forcing himself to calm as the truck rolled through the streets. The gentle sway of the vehicle eased some of his anxiety, but not completely. Minutes later the truck stopped and a thud sounded on the outside.

“We’re here,” announced one of the soldiers, rapping the vehicle’s wall.

The ramp dropped and soldiers began to disembark. Elias remained seated a moment longer, steadier now, until the two elite guards stepped toward him.

“Come on, kid. They’re waiting for you,” they said.

Elias rose slowly and headed for the exit. Stepping down, he found himself in front of a military base.

The roads were paved, flanked by barracks where soldiers slept, a mess hall, and several offices. The vehicle bay bustled with activity—soldiers unloading trucks, others walking the paths, and some training under the watchful eye of a sergeant barking orders.

“Come, we’ll take you to the minister,” said the smaller personal guard without removing his helmet and mask.

Elias followed, removing his own mask and tying it to his belt. He had been to a military base before, but never this deep inside. Everything was impeccably ordered. They passed several soldiers in black—the special guard—who saluted as they went by. At last they reached an office building.

Silently they entered the main reception area, which was full of clerks’ desks and, at the back, a staircase. They climbed to the second floor where more offices lay; at the end of the corridor was Minister Hughes’s office. His name and title were engraved on the glass door.

The smaller guard opened the door and let Elias and his companion in, closing it behind them. Both guards crossed their gloved hands behind their backs and stood at attention.

Elias couldn’t help but study the photographs lining the office walls—Hughes shaking hands with important figures, political and military leaders. Shelves held medals and books; the room itself was quite spacious. In one corner a comfortable double armchair occupied the space, and the imposing carved wooden desk dominated the center, flanked by two chairs opposite the minister’s seat.

From the window, the training field was visible where soldiers continued their drills. Elias was fascinated by the place, but his mind buzzed with unease, wondering what would happen to him.

“Take a seat, boy. The minister will be with you shortly,” the larger guard said kindly.

Elias nodded nervously and sat in front of the carved desk. His leg trembled uncontrollably.

“Y-yes…” he replied, his voice shaking.

Minutes stretched until finally the door opened. Elias tensed as Minister Hughes entered with steady steps, still wearing his white uniform and mask. His mere presence filled the room. He took a seat across from Elias.

“Welcome to my little office, young Elias,” he said, his tone almost jaunty despite his intimidating appearance. “Don’t be tense—nothing will happen to you, I assure you.”

He tried to sound reassuring, though the metallic timbre beneath the mask made him even more imposing. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, attempting to break the tension.

“Relax a bit,” Hughes continued. “I know you have many questions, and I promise to answer them, alright?”

Elias swallowed and nodded slowly.

“Y-yes… it’s just that… I’m really surprised by all of this. I don’t understand why they chose me, and what you said out there…” Elias began to speak quickly, words tumbling over one another. “It’s all making my head spin. And then going to that place full of beasts doesn’t help either!”

Hughes raised a hand, halting his nervous rambling.

“Calm down, calm down! Let’s take this step by step,” he said in a firm but composed voice. “We won’t leave you alone over there. I would never abandon one of our own in a place like that, do you understand?”

He took a breath before continuing.

“You were chosen because you qualified as the most suitable. Your grades are excellent, and we need someone capable if we want to improve relations with that beastly government.”

Elias lowered his gaze slightly, still uncertain how they planned to protect him.

“I understand…” he murmured, sinking further into the chair. “But how will you protect me if something goes wrong over there? I don’t think soldiers will magically appear out of thin air,” he added sarcastically, though his voice sounded less strained.

Hughes laughed at the remark.

“Don’t worry about that. We have some soldiers embedded there. If anything happens, they’ll take you out,” he explained, moving his hands with energy. “Also, the equipment we’ll give you is more advanced than usual… though we still don’t match their technological level.”

Elias listened silently, but a desolate feeling settled in his chest. Despite Hughes’s attempts at optimism, the enormity of what lay ahead weighed on him.

Hughes studied him, attempting to instill confidence.

“I know how you feel, but you must have more faith. We’ve already spoken with your parents; they’re aware of everything,” he added in a softer tone. “You will also receive a bit of defensive training before you leave. My guards mentioned it to you, didn’t they?”

“Yes, they told me on the way,” Elias answered, calmer.

“Good. Additionally, we’ll give you a biology book with useful information in case something happens. It’s in our language, so nobody over there will be able to read it,” Hughes explained, with a small smile beneath his mask.

Elias nodded, appreciating their efforts to protect him. Still, he couldn’t shake the sense of danger.

Hughes rummaged in his desk and produced a small case containing several metal rings that looked like simple toys.

“Ah, and this will be yours too,” he said, handing them over.

Elias raised an eyebrow, curious.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing to the rings.

Hughes looked at him without concern.

“This is a knuckle-duster,” he replied, giving him the object.

Elias stared alarmed.

“Are you sure about that? Won’t I be arrested for carrying a weapon?”

Hughes let out a small chuckle.

“They won’t. If they ask, just tell them it’s a stress toy. It doesn’t look like a weapon, so you won’t have trouble… unless you prefer to fight bare-handed if a problem arises,” he added with an ironic laugh. “Though you’re strong, I doubt you could do much against them if things get ugly.”

Elias hesitated for a moment but finally took the gauntlet. He wasn’t sure how he felt about using it, but he decided to trust the plan.

“Perfect. You may go now — my personal guard will give you some quick training,” Hughes said as Elias stood up.

Before he could leave the room, Hughes stopped him.

“Oh, one more thing. We’ll take you home once you’re done with the training and pick you up early tomorrow morning,” he added cheerfully.

“Understood…” Elias replied before leaving.

The guards escorted him out, closing the door behind him. Hughes remained alone in his office, exhaling deeply, worn out by the conversation. He rose from his chair, walked to the door, and lowered the blinds, blocking the light from the corridor. Turning off the desk lamp, he returned to his seat, removing his mask and helmet.

In the darkness, a brief spark flared — the glow of a cigarette being lit. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, releasing a long stream of smoke as the faint light filtering through the window cast his silhouette in a distorted glow.

“I just hope this all goes better than those bureaucrats think…” he murmured wearily. “I don’t want to bury anyone else.”

He kept smoking in silence, extinguishing what remained of the cigarette in the ashtray while his thoughts drifted toward the possible consequences of everything they were planning.

Out on the training grounds, Elias struggled against the large guard, who threw him to the ground for the third time. He groaned in pain, trying to get back up.

“Two out of three, kid. You learn fast,” said the smaller guard, sitting on the ground with a teasing grin.

“Yeah, but it hurts… and he hits really hard,” Elias complained, pointing at his opponent.

“Oh, come on! I’m not even using my full strength,” laughed the large guard, crossing his arms.

Elias sighed, exhausted, sitting on the dirt to catch his breath, sweat dripping down his forehead. He looked up at both guards.

“By the way, I never asked your names,” he said, curious.

The guards exchanged a quick glance before the smaller one spoke up.

“You can call me Mei,” said brightly.

“And I’m Geruft,” added the larger guard, his voice deep but friendly.
Elias smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Mei, Geruft. I’ve never heard names like those before.”

The two guards looked at each other, slightly uncomfortable at his formality.

“I never thought I’d actually meet the elite guard. Everyone in service talks about your unit like you’re a myth,” Elias added, clearly impressed.

Mei and Geruft both laughed.

“Well, here we are!” said Geruft, striking a dramatic pose as Mei burst out laughing.

“Yes, but we’d better continue your training,” Mei said, regaining his serious tone. “We’ll teach you how to intimidate the beasts from over there.”

Elias blinked, intrigued.

“Intimidate them?”

“Yes. Animals have a natural instinct to fear humans,” Mei explained. “But to trigger it, you need to look at them in a way that’s… unnatural — cold, emotionless. That look unsettles them. Even when we wear masks, I’ve seen more than one avert their eyes. Some even say our voices sound demonic.”

Elias listened closely.

“But keep in mind, it doesn’t always work. Some animals react differently. So be careful. Now, show me if you can keep a blank face,” Mei instructed.

Elias nodded and tried to relax his features, attempting a cold, empty stare — but he couldn’t help smiling.

“Ah, sorry… it’s really hard when you’re both staring at me like that,” he said apologetically, trying again. “And why do they fear our voices, exactly?”

“Hmm, not sure,” Mei replied calmly. “I think it’s tied to the war stories survivors used to tell from the trenches.”

Elias took a deep breath and tried again. This time, the light in his blue eyes dimmed for a moment, and his expression went completely blank.

Mei smiled, satisfied.

“That’s it… just like that.”

“Well done, kid,” said Geruft approvingly. “You really do learn fast. What do you say we move on to hand-to-hand combat?”

Elias grinned, dropping the serious act.

“Sure, let’s go,” he said, standing up to continue training.

The session went on until the sky turned orange. Exhausted, Elias collapsed onto his back, panting. Mei leaned over him.

“Not bad for your first day of training, but you definitely need more practice,” she said, crouching and offering him a hand. “Come on, it’s time to take you home so you can get ready for tomorrow.”

Elias took her hand and got up, unsteady on his feet. Geruft followed, still catching his breath.

“All right, let’s go,” Mei said, heading toward the vehicle bay.

When they arrived, they saw Hughes speaking with a commander. Noticing his guards approach, Hughes turned toward them. Mei and Geruft saluted in unison, and Elias followed their example; though not a soldier, he knew to show respect.

“Sir, we’re done with the recruit!” Mei reported crisply.

“Excellent. Escort him to the car, I’ll be right there,” Hughes ordered.

“Yes, sir!” both guards replied.

Elias followed them to the vehicle. Mei opened the rear door for him.

“Go ahead,” she said quietly.

Elias nodded and climbed in, settling in the corner of the spacious back seat — the vehicle could hold up to eight people. He leaned back, trying to relax, his mind adrift.

“What will I tell my parents…? And my sister? She looked so worried when she saw me pass by…” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself.

“I just hope I don’t cause them too much grief. They’re sending me to a place I don’t know — full of wild creatures that could tear a human apart in an instant.”

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened again — Hughes climbed in and sat across from him. The door closed with a soft click as Mei and Geruft took their seats up front, Mei driving and Geruft riding co-pilot. The engine started, and the car rolled away from the base.

The silence inside was thick, almost heavy. Neither Elias nor Hughes seemed eager to break it — until Elias finally gathered the courage to speak.

“Minister Hughes, may I ask you something?” he said, trying to hide his nervousness.

“Of course — as long as it’s not confidential,” Hughes replied with an easy laugh.

“Well, it’s just… since we got here, I’ve been wondering,” Elias began hesitantly. “Why do you and your guards always keep your masks and helmets on? Even the soldiers in the truck never took them off. But at the base, no one wore them.”

Hughes stayed silent for a few seconds. Mei and Geruft exchanged a quick glance in the rearview mirror, sensing the faint tension in the air. Finally, the minister answered.

“Hmm, we do it to create conviction,” he said calmly. “So that people see in us an incorruptible unit — something that inspires hope and respect.”

Elias let out a sigh of relief, glad to have received an answer. He smiled nervously.

“For a moment, I thought I’d asked something I shouldn’t have,” he joked with an awkward chuckle.

Hughes gave a soft laugh in return.

“Don’t worry. Many people are curious about our unit. Some even think we’re supernatural beings — honestly, I find it amusing.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” Elias said with a sheepish grin. “My classmates used to say you were like a myth within the army.”

The mood lightened a little. The car continued down the road under the faint glow of streetlights that had just begun to turn on. Feeling more at ease, Elias leaned forward, eager to change the topic.

“By the way… what do you know about the school I’m being sent to?” he asked curiously, anxious to know more about his destination.

“A letter from the academy arrived this afternoon,” Hughes replied. “I can tell you it’s a prestigious institution — highly respected among them. The campus operates as a boarding school; students live on-site.”

Elias’s eyes widened.

“Wait— they’re making me live with those beasts? What if they attack me while I’m sleeping?!” he exclaimed, a chill running down his spine at the thought of sharing a dorm with creatures that could devour him in his most vulnerable state.

“Calm down,” Hughes reassured him. “You’ll have a private room. The letter also mentioned that campus security will be reinforced. Although, to be honest, I wouldn’t put too much faith in them if something happens.”

Elias felt a brief wave of relief knowing he’d have his own space.

“It also said the campus is located on Zebuth Hill,” Hughes added, watching his reaction.

“Isn’t that where the NHU fought its last battle before surrendering?” Elias asked, recalling his history lessons.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m warning you not to bring up the subject. Not everyone there enjoys remembering the past,” Hughes said gravely.

Elias nodded, taking the warning seriously. He had no intention of stirring trouble.

Silence returned as the car drove deeper into the rural district. Asphalt gave way to dirt roads until they finally stopped. They continued on foot, the sound of crickets and rustling wind filling the air. The soft lights of nearby houses flickered, lending the scene a peaceful air.

The night was calm — streetlights glowed warmly, and the distant murmur of the city lingered in the background. As they walked, Elias couldn’t shake his nervousness about what awaited him at the academy, though part of him felt a spark of curiosity and resolve.

As they went on, the artificial lights grew brighter while the sun vanished beyond the horizon. Soon, they reached a two-story house surrounded by a small garden.

“Well, looks like we’re here,” Hughes said, stopping before the house.

“Yes, Minister Hughes. It was an honor to meet you,” Elias replied respectfully, trying to hide his fatigue. Mei and Geruft stood beside him, alert.

“I never imagined I’d meet the special unit — let alone be trained by its elite guard. Even if it was just for a day. I know it’s not enough to learn much, but I’ll keep practicing,” he added with a faint smile.

Mei and Geruft exchanged a proud glance. Hughes nodded, satisfied.

“That’s good. We’ll stop by from time to time so you can continue your training, if possible,” Hughes said casually.

Elias blinked in surprise.

“Wait, what? You didn’t mention that! What do you mean, you’ll come for me from time to time?!” he exclaimed.

“I must’ve forgotten to tell you — you’ll be there for three years,” Hughes said calmly, folding his arms.

Elias’s expression went blank, as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over him.

“What?! Three years?! I thought it was just for a few weeks!” he cried in disbelief.
Hughes shrugged.

“I didn’t tell you before because I knew you’d panic. But now that you’ve heard everything else, I figured this was the best time to mention it,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

Elias sighed, lowering his head in resignation.

“Yes, sir…” he muttered.

Hughes chuckled softly — just as the house door burst open. A young woman ran out and threw herself into Elias’s arms, hugging him tightly.

“Little sister…” he whispered, looking down at Maria, who buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing.

“Hey, don’t cry. I know you’re worried,” he said gently, trying to calm her.

“How could I not be worried? Mom and Dad just told me why you were chosen,” she replied through tears. “You’re my only brother — I don’t want to lose you.”

Elias hugged her tightly, trying to reassure her, as Hughes stepped forward.

“You can rest easy — I promise nothing will happen to him. His safety is our top priority,” Hughes said, meeting Maria’s eyes with understanding.

Maria looked up at him, tears still glistening in her eyes.

“You don’t have to worry. We’ll do everything in our power to protect him,” Hughes continued, pulling a handkerchief from his jacket and offering it to her. “Here — wipe those tears.”

Maria accepted it gratefully.

“Thank you,” she whispered, drying her eyes.

Hughes turned to Elias.

“All right, Elias. We’ll come for you early tomorrow. Be ready ahead of time — we can’t afford to keep them waiting, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Elias replied formally.

“One more thing — wear formal clothes for the occasion. We’ll also provide special clothing to cover your body. And in case you were wondering about the school uniform, I’ve already sent your measurements so they’ll have it ready,” Hughes added, giving his final instructions.

“Understood, sir.” Elias saluted him smartly, feeling slightly more prepared for what lay ahead.

“Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, Elias,” Hughes said before turning to leave.

Elias watched them walk away, lowering his hand before glancing at his sister.

“Let’s go inside,” he said with a tired smile. She nodded and followed him in as darkness fell, swallowing the last traces of daylight.

“Legoshi! Legoshi!”

The insistent voice pulled Legoshi out of his deep sleep. He slowly opened his eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asked groggily, pulling back the curtain that hung from the edge of his wall-mounted bed.

Blinking to focus, he realized Jack was standing there, right in front of him, trying to wake him up.

“We just got an announcement,” Jack explained urgently. “The housekeeper said every student has to gather in the auditorium. The headmaster has something important to say.”

Legoshi got up in a rush, dressing himself as his roommates moved busily around the dorm.

“I wonder what this announcement is all about,” Collot muttered, sitting on the edge of his bunk as he put on his shoes.

“No idea, but they interrupted me right in the middle of a game,” grumbled Durham, buttoning up his shirt in a hurry.

“Come on, it’ll probably be quick. I doubt it’ll take long,” said Miguno, already dressed and waiting by the door while the others finished getting ready.

The room buzzed with voices and movement as they prepared, and soon they all stepped out, heading toward the auditorium to join the stream of students leaving their dorms.

Knocks echoed against the front door of the house.

“I’m coming!” María called, hurrying down the stairs.

When she opened the door, she found a uniformed officer standing upright on the doorstep.

“Is young Elias Wulfhart ready to depart?” the officer asked formally.

María nodded, noticing the soldiers lined up along the path, with the minister waiting just a few meters behind them.

“Yes, he’ll be right down,” she replied, just as Elias descended the stairs.

He wore a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, a brown vest, and black trousers and shoes. A leather backpack hung over his shoulder. Behind him came his parents—his mother, a woman with chestnut hair and warm honey-colored eyes dressed in a white ruffled gown, and his father, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a gray coat that accentuated his stern presence.

Elias stopped before the officer and saluted respectfully.

“Good morning, sir,” he said, hand to his temple.

The officer’s tone softened.

“At ease, son. Go with the commanding officer. Today will be an important day.”

“Yes, sir,” Elias replied, struggling to contain the mix of nerves and anticipation swirling inside him. He walked with his family toward Hughes, who stood beside the official vehicle.

“Sir, would it be possible for my family to come along? They’d like to see me off,” Elias asked, his voice firm but full of emotion.

Hughes nodded, a faint smile hidden behind his mask.

“Of course. No problem. Come, let’s all get in.”

Elias smiled gratefully.

“Thank you, sir.”

They followed the dirt path to the car, where Mei and Geruft were already waiting. Mei courteously opened the back door. Elias sat beside Hughes, while his parents and sister took the seats opposite them.

The engine started with a soft rumble as the car pulled away. Elias looked at his parents and sister one more time, trying to etch their faces into his memory before this new chapter of his life began.

The silence inside was thick, broken only by the steady hum of the motor. Finally, Elias’s father spoke.

“Minister, it’s an honor that our son has been chosen for such an important duty,” he said solemnly, “but as a father, I can’t help but worry. Can you assure me he’ll be safe?”

Hughes met his gaze steadily before replying.

“Of course, Mr. Wulfhart. Your son’s safety is our highest priority. You can rest easy—we’ll do everything in our power to protect him.”

Elias’s father nodded, visibly reassured.

The vehicle continued on toward the shipyard, where a large crowd had gathered behind the security barriers. Reporters and onlookers held cameras and recorders, while soldiers kept watch over the area.

After passing through security, the group disembarked and made their way to the docks, where a massive ship awaited them.

Hughes paused, looking at the vessel with clear disapproval. It had been decommissioned long ago and turned into a floating museum—but even now, its imposing silhouette carried a warlike air that felt out of place.

He turned sharply to the officer beside him.

“Would you mind telling me why we’re using a battleship as a diplomatic transport?” Hughes asked in a cutting tone.

“Sir, the ministers thought it would be a fitting choice. That’s all I was told,” the vice admiral replied tensely.

Hughes frowned beneath his mask. “What kind of diplomacy begins under the shadow of war? he thought bitterly.”

“Very well. Dismissed,” he said curtly before turning back to Elias and his family, who were staring at the ship in awe. They had never imagined something so huge could actually move—they’d always assumed it was just a museum piece.

“Well, Elias, I think it’s time to say your goodbyes,” Hughes announced.

“Yes, sir,” Elias answered, and then turned to his family. He approached his mother first, and she wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“Be careful, my son,” she whispered, fighting back tears.

“Brother, please write if you can. And take care of yourself,” María added, her voice trembling with sadness.

“Don’t get into trouble out there, boy. We’ll always be waiting for you,” his father said, pulling him into a firm hug.

“I will. I love you all,” Elias said softly, pulling away with effort.

He cast one last look at their faces before walking toward Hughes, who stood by the gangway leading up to the ship.

“Are you ready?” Hughes asked.

“Ready, sir,” Elias replied with determination.

Hughes nodded and turned on his heel, walking up the narrow metal ramp to the battleship. Elias followed closely, his steps firm, while Hughes’s guards boarded behind them in a silent escort.

As they climbed, the wind carried the faint hum of the crowd and the rhythmic crash of waves—a distant melody accompanying Elias’s departure toward an uncertain future.

On deck, a distinguished-looking captain awaited them. He wore a crisp white uniform trimmed with blue along the collar and cuffs, gloves, a helmet, and a deep-blue mask decorated with silver stars that signified his rank.

“Welcome aboard, Minister Hughes. My crew is at your disposal for this important voyage,” he said respectfully, inclining his head.

“Yes, the vice admiral on shore informed me that you’ll be our transport. For safety upon arrival, I’ll assign one of my men to assist with navigation. We can’t afford to run aground by mistake,” Hughes replied coolly, still displeased.

The captain nodded without protest.

“Understood, sir.”

Hughes waited until all his men were aboard, then signaled to one of them. A guard dressed entirely in black, a cape draped over his right arm, stepped forward.

“Yes, sir!” the guard barked.

“Hugo, assist the captain to ensure safe passage to the port,” Hughes ordered.

“Sir, yes sir!” Hugo saluted sharply before following the captain’s lead.

Once everyone was aboard, the gangway was retracted, and the crew released the moorings. The battleship’s deep horn echoed across the harbor, marking its departure.

Elias hurried to the railing to look down at his family and the crowd below. As the ship drifted away, the people on shore waved and shouted their farewells.

“Goodbye!” Elias yelled, waving back as the distance widened and his home faded into the horizon.

Sadness welled up in his eyes as the port grew smaller and smaller.

Hughes approached and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.

“Come on. It’s time to get you equipped.”

Elias nodded and followed him through the narrow corridors of the battleship. Mei and Geruft, Hughes’s most trusted guards, carried several small cases.

After a short walk, they arrived at a small office decorated with historical achievements and human memorabilia. Hughes took a seat behind the desk and looked at Elias.

“All right, Elias. Let’s get you your gear. Mei, Geruft—give him his equipment.”

The two opened the cases. Inside one was a flexible black neck guard with buttons and a clasp, along with a strange device Elias had never seen before.

“What’s this?” Elias asked, examining it curiously.

“It’s a phone,” Hughes explained. “With this, we can track your position and you can contact us if necessary.”

Elias stared at it in awe.

“The manuals are in the box. Read them later,” Hughes added.

Geruft handed him a thick book titled Beast Biology, written in the local language. It had no illustrations—just dense text, like a standard textbook. Along with it came a hooded trench coat reinforced on the inside, and a pair of black gloves.

Elias eyed the coat, gloves, and neck guard uneasily.

“What’s all this for?” he asked, a bit nervous.

“They’re for you to wear once you disembark. By order of the ministers, we can’t let them see what we really look like. They claim it’s for intimidation purposes—but if it were up to me, I’d have taken this thing off long ago,” Hughes said, tapping his own mask.

Elias nodded in understanding and put on the equipment, leaving his face uncovered. Hughes watched with approval.

“Good. Now, put on the mask.”

Elias obeyed, pulling the mask from his bag and fitting it to his face. The material was cold to the touch, and once in place, his vision narrowed slightly through its design.

“Excellent. You’re ready. Now, all we can do is wait. Let’s head to the bridge.”

Elias nodded again and followed Hughes, with Mei and Geruft trailing behind. They made their way to the bridge as the ship pressed onward toward its destination, leaving familiar shores behind and sailing into open waters.

At the port of Zebuth, the docks were alive with activity. The presence of journalists—who had somehow caught wind of the event—combined with the officers cordoning off the area, filled the air with tension and anticipation.

Gon yawned tiredly, trying to calm his nerves.

“Ahhhh, I didn’t expect this much fog today. They’ll probably take a while to get through it,” He said, forcing a calm tone, though inside he could feel his nerves crawling through his body.

“They shouldn’t take long. I checked the weather forecast — it should clear up in about ten minutes,” Else replied, her voice steady though her gaze remained fixed on the horizon.

Both of them stood watching the sea, where waves broke softly against the shore. The shipyard was large enough to receive a freighter, but the fog was so thick that visibility barely reached three hundred meters.

Suddenly, a shout cut through the silence.

“Ship!”

Everyone turned toward the fog, which swirled like a living entity. A flare streaked across the air, painting the white haze in a deep, glowing red.

Gradually, an imposing silhouette emerged from the mist — a ship of such colossal size it seemed like a sea beast rising from the depths. Under the crimson light, the battleship looked like a steel predator lurking in silence.

The deep roar of its horn thundered across the port, making the shipyard walls and the very ground tremble beneath their feet. As the ship maneuvered slowly toward the dock, cameras captured every second, transmitting the scene to a crowd waiting in breathless anticipation.

Flags waved solemnly in the wind, and the name Gabriel gleamed in metallic letters across the gray hull.

Gon and Else exchanged glances in silence, both feeling the weight of the moment. That colossal machine surpassed anything they had ever imagined; for the first time, they understood the true reach of human technology.

The battleship came to a stop. The crew on deck tossed the mooring ropes with military precision, and the dock workers secured them swiftly. The gangway descended with a metallic screech that echoed in the thick air. The entire port seemed to hold its breath.

Gon’s nerves intensified as he saw the human crew—perfectly aligned, their faces hidden behind expressionless masks. They looked like a ghostly army, devoid of any trace of humanity.

When the gangway finally touched the ground, he could clearly see the figure Else had told him about. The man descended accompanied by another wearing a white mask decorated with multiple painted eyes. He carried a backpack—Gon guessed this was the student.

Behind them, two guards in dark uniforms marked with red lines completed the escort. Gon felt a knot in his stomach, as did Else, who stepped forward to receive them, doing her best to maintain her composure.

The air was thick with unease, and with every step the humans took onto solid ground, doubt crept deeper into their minds. What had happened to them in all this time? Else took one more step forward, holding herself upright despite the faint tremor in her legs.

“Welcome, Ambassador Hughes,” she greeted, her voice betraying a slight tremor.

“Good morning, Ambassador Else. Thank you for receiving us,” Hughes replied with impeccable courtesy.

Beside him, Elias carefully observed the beasts waiting on the dock, his attention caught particularly by Else, whose presence was both regal and intimidating. The lioness bared her fangs slightly as she spoke—he noticed that. Despite his nerves, he remained composed.

“Ah, yes. This is the student who’ll be attending your academy. His name is Elias Wulfhart,” Hughes introduced, gesturing toward the young man.

Elias inclined his head politely, though a chill ran down his spine. Else returned the gesture, but she couldn’t suppress her unease when she noticed his blue eyes—barely visible through the mask—fixing on her with an intensity that made her shiver. She responded with diplomatic calm, though goosebumps prickled her skin.

“Allow me to introduce you to the headmaster of the academy. Please, follow me,” Else said, inviting the group forward. Hughes nodded, and together they walked toward Gon, accompanied by Mei and Geruft.

As they approached, Gon tensed up. He could feel an intense aura emanating from the humans, something primal inside him whispering to stay away. But with effort, he kept his composure and greeted them nervously.

“It’s... it’s an honor to meet you, Ambassador,” he said, bowing instinctively and forcing a smile.

Hughes let out a small chuckle.

“The pleasure is mine, Director...” he paused, searching for the name.

“Gon. You can call me Gon,” the tiger clarified, still a little uneasy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gon. Here is the student,” Hughes added, gesturing for Elias to step forward.

As the young human moved ahead, Gon felt a chill run down his spine. Those blue eyes stared straight into his, and though he’d met countless different creatures in his life, this was the first time he had ever seen a human.

A mix of emotions—excitement, curiosity, fear, and unease—flooded him, leaving him momentarily speechless. Elias was tall, almost as tall as some of the wolf students at the academy, which only heightened the strangeness of the moment.

“It’s a pleasure to welcome you to our academy, young man,” Gon finally said, extending his hand.

For a brief moment, Elias simply looked at the tiger’s hand—his long claws made him hesitate, creating palpable tension throughout the dock. Gon began to feel anxious, afraid he had committed a cultural mistake.

At last, the black glove moved slightly before accepting the handshake. Gon noticed the cold touch of the young man’s glove. His anxiety eased a little—though not completely—when Elias released his hand calmly.

“All right, let’s head to the academy. They’re waiting for us,” Else intervened, hoping to dissolve the uncomfortable air hanging over them.

Before they boarded the vehicle, Hughes spoke up.

“Ambassador, I’ll be accompanying Elias to the academy. I promised his parents. Will that be a problem?”

“Of course not, Ambassador,” Else replied kindly. “In fact, I forgot to mention that a member of the council wishes to meet you and is waiting for us there.”
Hughes nodded, intrigued.

The group made their way to the vehicle. The driver opened the door nervously, clearly intimidated by the humans accompanying Gon and Else.

Gon and Else entered first, sitting side by side, followed by Hughes, Elias, Mei, and Geruft. Mei settled into one corner of the seat, Geruft into the other, leaving Elias and Hughes in the middle. The two guards remained vigilant, their eyes occasionally glancing toward Gon and Else as they faced away from the driver’s cabin.

The engine roared to life, and the convoy began moving, escorted by patrols toward the academy.

Inside the vehicle, silence pressed heavily over them. Gon could feel the weight of every breath. Finally, Hughes broke the ice.

“I noticed the weather at sea was rather foggy. When we left, it was a perfectly sunny day,” he remarked casually, trying to ease the tension.

“Yes, it was supposed to stay clear, but it seems the forecast changed at the last minute,” Else replied lightly.

Hughes looked out the window, watching the streets and the beasts that stopped to watch the convoy pass by.

“Your city is beautiful, Ambassador. I’ve never seen so many species living together in one place,” he said with genuine admiration.

“Thank you. At first, many believed that herbivores and carnivores couldn’t coexist as a united society, but we’ve been working hard to overcome our differences,” Else said, smiling. “The academy directed by Gon is a good example of that, isn’t it, Gon?”
Still struggling with his nerves, Gon answered quickly.

“Y-yes, our academy is the most prestigious in the region,” the tiger said, trying to sound confident. “We accept all species without discrimination. We want... I want everyone to be able to trust one another, no matter their differences.”

“That sounds wonderful. It’s an admirable goal for your society,” Hughes commented kindly.

The ambassador’s words eased the atmosphere a little, though Gon couldn’t help but wonder how his students would react once they learned that a human would soon walk among them.

The students of the academy were making their way toward the auditorium, filled with curiosity and uncertainty. Conversations buzzed through the trail, and the air was thick with unease.

“Hey, don’t you think there are more guards than usual?” Collot asked, walking beside his roommates, his eyes darting around at the unusually high security presence.

“Yeah, it’s weird... you think something bad happened?” Miguno said, sounding a bit alarmed as he recalled the events from the previous week.

“I don’t think so. If something had happened, we’d already know,” Durham replied, trying to sound calm, though his tone did little to ease their worries.

Legoshi and Jack walked a few steps behind them, equally tense.

“Legoshi, what do you think is going on? There’s way too much security. This isn’t normal,” Jack murmured nervously, noticing guards stationed every twenty meters, alert and scanning the area.

“I don’t know, Jack... but yeah, it’s unsettling,” Legoshi said, lost in thought. “Could it be about Tem’s death? Are they investigating something?”

When they reached the auditorium, a wave of murmurs spread among the students, all wondering what was happening. Durham, scrolling through his phone, suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. His expression shifted from curiosity to fear. Miguno immediately noticed.

“What is it, Durham? Why do you look terrified?” he asked, alarmed.

Before Durham could respond, a teacher took the microphone.

“Attention, please! I need you all to stay quiet so you can listen,” said the hyena in charge of discipline. Gradually, the noise died down. “Thank you. The headmaster, Gon, will now make a very important announcement, so please pay attention.”

The teacher stepped aside, and a few seconds later, Gon appeared on stage. He cleared his throat before speaking; his nervousness was visible in his posture.

“First of all, thank you for coming today. I know some of you were resting, but this is important enough that no one should miss it,” he began, trying to sound firm. “I ask for your full understanding and calm. You’ve probably noticed the unusual number of guards — and there’s a reason for that. We’ll be welcoming a very special student to our institution.”

A wave of whispers erupted, filling the auditorium with speculation.

“Silence, please!” Gon called out. The noise subsided.

“Now, allow me to introduce Koda, a member of the Species Council and the NUA, along with our nation’s ambassador Else, and the mayor of Zebuth,” he announced. The three walked onto the stage, smiling tensely. Still, the tension in the room remained thick.

“I ask everyone to stay calm and behave appropriately. I expect nothing less from the students of my academy,” Gon continued, his voice trembling slightly. “I now present to you Ambassador Tyler Hughes, from the human nation of Eden... and his exchange student, Elias Wulfhart.”

The auditorium fell into absolute silence, as if time itself had stopped.

The students froze, unable to process what they had just heard. Some thought it must be a joke. No one had seen a human in a century.

Out of the shadows, Hughes and Elias appeared, followed by Mei and Geruft. They wore uniforms and masks that concealed their faces, their very presence exuding authority.

Though Hughes raised a hand in greeting with cheerful formality, the air remained heavy with indescribable fear. Elias mimicked the gesture, trying to appear friendly, but the tension barely eased. The mere presence of humans had completely changed the atmosphere of the academy.

The air in the auditorium remained dense, every eye fixed on Hughes, Elias, and their companions, Mei and Geruft — who stood still with their hands behind their backs and their gazes locked straight ahead.

The students’ attention was focused mainly on Hughes, who appeared completely at ease, and on Elias, whose piercing eyes studied the audience carefully, sending a chill down the spine of anyone caught in his gaze.

A deathly silence hung over the hall until Director Gon finally broke it.

“Well then, dear students,” he said in a firm voice, “I hope you’ll treat your new classmate as an equal, without distinction. And now, I’ll let the ambassador say a few words.”

Gon stepped away from the podium, allowing Hughes to approach with Elias beside him. Everyone held their breath, fully aware they were about to hear a human voice for the very first time.

“Thank you, Director Gon. Hello everyone—students, teachers, and government officials,” Hughes began, his tone warm yet commanding. “Thank you for welcoming us with open arms. I know all this may be hard to take in, but we truly wish to strengthen our relationship with your beautiful country. That’s why we’ve decided to send one of our best students from Eden to attend your academy. We want to deepen our bond, just as your academy promotes harmony between carnivores and herbivores. We share that same vision.”

He stepped away from the microphone and leaned toward Elias, whispering quietly,

“Take off the protective gear. We need to earn their trust and show them we’re committed.”

Elias hesitated but obeyed. Slowly, he began to remove his equipment. First, he unfastened the neck guard and handed it to Mei.

The audience watched closely, not daring to blink as Elias revealed more of himself. He pulled back the hood and removed his coat, exposing his muscular arms that glimmered faintly under the light.

The students stared in shock—accustomed to bodies covered in fur, that smooth, bare skin looked unreal, almost fragile. And yet, his imposing build and tall stature made him appear even more intimidating.

Elias took off his gloves, revealing hands without claws—hands that almost resembled those of a herbivore. The sight drew murmurs of confusion as students exchanged uncertain glances.

Finally, only the mask remained. Elias paused, glancing at Hughes for reassurance. The ambassador simply nodded, urging him on.

He took a deep breath and began to remove it.

With one hand, he held the mask before his face, unfastening the straps with the other. Every eye in the auditorium was fixed on him—Director Gon, Else, the council, and all the students—waiting in uneasy silence.

Slowly, he lowered the mask, revealing his face at last. For the first time, they saw a human visage—pale skin devoid of fur, blue eyes without a snout… only a cold, hollow gaze that looked back at them with eerie calm.

A wave of discomfort rippled through the hall.

Director Gon felt a chill crawl up his spine as he noticed how Elias’s eyes shifted toward him—without turning his head, scanning everyone in the audience with mechanical precision.

Elias stepped toward the microphone and spoke in a flat voice.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Elias Wulfhart. I hope we can get along.”

His tone lacked warmth. Though his words were polite, they did nothing to ease the tension in the room. In truth, Elias was struggling to keep his composure. Inside, fear clawed at him, his mind spiraling with panic.

“Hughes, why do I have to do this?! I feel like running away—those beasts are staring at me so strangely!” he thought, trying not to let his emotions show. On the surface, he looked calm, but his movements were almost mechanical as he fought to suppress the anxiety tightening his chest.

Hughes took back the microphone while Elias stepped aside, returning to Mei and Geruft’s side.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve had a chance to meet us,” Hughes said cheerfully. “We’re not so different from you, after all.” He turned toward Elias. “I hope you make lots of friends here. Well then, I’ll leave you with Director Gon.”

Hughes left the podium with a soft chuckle and walked toward Elias.

Director Gon approached the microphone again, still processing what had just happened.

“I’d like to take this moment for the council to officially greet the ambassador,” he announced.

Koda, Else, and the mayor stepped forward to shake hands with Hughes and Elias. The mayor and Koda smiled nervously, doing their best to hide their unease.

Some students took advantage of the moment to snap pictures with their phones, while a journalist from the public relations club struggled to take steady shots, her hands trembling. Her partner nudged her lightly, and she began snapping photo after photo as the greetings continued.

Gon continue looking more composed now.

“I hope you all treat him with respect. That being said, you may all return to your dorms. Thank you for coming, and have a good day.”

The students began filing out of the auditorium—some quietly, others visibly shaken, hurrying toward the doors.

Elias, feeling a small measure of relief, put his mask and protective gear back on, comforted by the sense of safety they provided. A hand suddenly rested on his shoulder, startling him. It was Hughes.

“You did well,” the ambassador said with a faint smile.

Elias exhaled deeply, releasing all the tension that had built up.

“I was scared to death, sir. Everyone was staring at me so strangely,” he confessed, his voice weary.

“I know,” Hughes replied calmly. “But what matters is that they’ve seen you now. They’ll get used to you in time. Come on, it’s time for me to go.”

Elias nodded and followed Hughes toward the exit, where Gon and Else were bidding farewell to the council members and the mayor.

Hughes looked at them.

“Well, I suppose that’s all. It’s time for me to take my leave,” he said. Elias nodded silently beside him. Gon and Else returned the gesture, and they exited the auditorium. A few students lingered nearby, peeking curiously at Elias, while others quickly turned away as he passed.

They reached the campus gate, where a vehicle waited for Else and Hughes. Mei and Geruft stayed close, keeping watch. Once inside, Hughes rolled down the window before leaving.

“If you ever send letters, remember—they must go through the embassy. Here.” Hughes pulled a few stamps from his uniform and handed them to Elias. He took them carefully.

“Take care of yourself.”

The car started up and slowly disappeared down the road, leaving Elias alone with Director Gon. The director looked at him, visibly nervous under the weight of his new responsibility.

“Well then, young Elias, follow me,” Gon said, forcing a friendly tone. “I’ll show you to your dormitory. You’ll find some things we’ve prepared for you there—your uniform, schedule, and other personal items.”

Elias nodded slightly. Though he was still afraid, his expressionless demeanor made the director uneasy.

Gon led him toward the male carnivore dormitory building. Some students watched from afar, while others hurried inside upon seeing them approach. Since Elias was able to eat meat, he had been assigned to that category.

“Well then, young Elias, this will be your dormitory. Go on in— the housekeeper will be waiting for you to show you to your room,” said in a calm, measured tone.

“Yes,” Elias replied quietly, adding nothing more.

The director watched him walk away, curiosity flickering in his eyes as the human disappeared into the building.

“How strange… Are all humans like that?” he wondered, intrigued by the demeanor of his new student.

Upon entering, Elias immediately noticed several students stealing glances at him—some discreetly, others more openly, their faces a mix of unease and curiosity. It didn’t take long before a voice called out to him.

“So you’re the new student, huh?”

Elias turned around. Standing before him was a drill—a simian with an elegant posture and an inquisitive expression. He recognized her species; among all the beasts, primates were those who most resembled humans.

The housekeeper regarded him with mild curiosity.

“All right, follow me. I’ll take you to your room,” she said in a professional tone.

Elias nodded silently, carrying his backpack full of clothes and personal belongings. They stepped into the elevator together. The ride felt endless—the floor numbers kept ticking upward until the doors finally opened on the ninth level.

As they stepped out, they found themselves in a spacious common area, bathed in sunlight from large windows.

“This is the common room,” she explained. “You can spend time here whenever you like.”

As they walked through, Elias overheard several students chatting loudly about what they had seen earlier in the auditorium.

“Did you see his eyes?” one said. “Everyone went dead quiet when they saw him.”

Noticing Elias moving past, a few of them began to follow from a distance, curious to see where he would be staying.

“Well, we’re almost there. This will be your room—number 710,” the housekeeper announced.

She opened the door and handed him a key. Elias stepped inside. The room was spacious, with a bed in the center, a desk with a bookshelf, and a private bathroom.

“I’ll explain a few rules,” she continued. “Girls are not allowed inside the dormitory. You also can’t bring herbivores into your room, and lastly, you must be here before 7:00 p.m. Understood?”

Elias nodded silently, his gaze wandering around the room, taking in every detail.

“The complete list of dormitory rules is printed on a sheet of paper on your desk, along with other important information. Also, I’ve been informed that once you finish settling in, I’ll take you to the infirmary for a health check. I’ll come for you at exactly twelve o’clock. That should give you enough time to unpack. Have a good day.”

The housekeeper turned and left with firm steps, closing the door behind her.

Elias exhaled wearily and let himself fall back onto the bed. The day had been long and draining, but he didn’t want to waste any time. He sat up, opened his backpack, and began placing his clothes and belongings into the drawers.

“Just my luck…” he murmured to himself with a tired half-smile.

Though fatigue weighed heavily on him, he forced himself to keep organizing his things. He knew this place would be his home for the next three years.