The return to Akkad

The four soldiers arrived at The Trium, after a tough, but quiet journey through forests, and rough terrain. As they approached the ruins, they saw two figures waiting. Commander Hadleigh, and another man they didn't recognize at first. Hadleigh introduced him as Commander Girin. 

Without wasting time, Girin nodded and said, "We're here to escort you back to Akkad. Naramsin's waiting for your report."

With a simple acknowledgment, they followed the two commanders, ready to head back to Akkad and deliver the details of their mission.

After arriving at Akkad with no time to rest, the soldiers were taken straight to the headquarters. Inside, five figures awaited them, their faces unreadable. A woman stepped forward briskly, her eyes sharp.

"The sphere pocket," she demanded.

Speira handed it over without a word, and the woman moved aside. They continued forward, now standing before Naramsin, whose gaze remained fixed on them.

The squad calmly delivered their report. They described how they posed as travelers seeking temporary refuge in Skara Brae, gathering information before eliminating Sigurd. They spoke, showing no sign of emotion, recounting each step of the mission.

Naramsin listened in silence, absorbing every detail. Once the report was complete, the room fell still, waiting for his response.

Naramsin dismissed them with a simple nod. As the four turned to leave, one of the five people who had been waiting stepped forward, following closely behind. His voice cut through the silence, low and taunting.

"Did you really kill Sigurd? Hard to believe."

They recognized her immediately from a previous encounter. Her face was as unreadable as ever, her black eyes lifeless, her pale skin giving her an almost ghostly appearance. SHe wasn't tall, wasn't short. Just an unsettling presence. SHe gave a faint, humorless smile.

"I'm Shino," she said, his tone dripping with mockery.

The four exchanged quick glances, feeling the weight of her words, but kept their composure. This was their first real introduction to the mysterious girl who had lingered on the edges of their path.

As they walked down the dim corridor, Yacha, keeping his voice steady, spoke first. "What's in it for you if we killed Sigurd?" His tone was calm, but there was a subtle edge of curiosity.

Shino's dead eyes flicked over to him, a hint of amusement tugging at her lips. "The mission was originally mine. You'll get new orders soon enough. I've just been promoted to first Commander, and from now on, I'll be responsible for you."

That statement hung in the air for a moment, the weight of her words settling in. Ursang, Eline, and Speira exchanged glances. Yacha, however, didn't seem fazed.

"And ardran?" Speira asked.

Shino's gaze shifted lazily to her. "You're going to be part of an Orionis special squad, different tasks, more important ones."

As they processed this, Ursang, Eline, and Speira felt nothing unusual about Shino. Her aura seemed as ordinary as any other human's. But Yacha felt something off. Two distinct auras radiated from Shino, and he couldn't shake the feeling.

He met Shino's gaze. "You aren't just a normal human, are you?"

Shino's smile widened, excitement flashing in her lifeless eyes. "Now you've got my attention, Yacha," she said, her voice low but charged with a strange energy. "Go rest. We'll see where this goes."

Without another word, Shino turned, leaving the four to absorb this new reality as they made their way back to prepare for what was to come.

As they walked away from the encounter with Shino, Yacha turned to Ursang. "Did you sense anything in her?"

Before Ursang could respond, Speira cut in. "I can't read her," she said, her voice thoughtful. "It's like she's hiding something."

Ursang nodded slightly. "This woman is strong."

Eline, already looking exhausted, just sighed. "I'm going to rest," she said, and without waiting, she and Speira headed off.

Yacha watched them go before turning back to Ursang, his tone lowering. "She's not just strong, Ursang. She's a dangerous being.'' 

Ursang shifted the conversation, focusing on Yacha. "You need to start letting your emotions out of the picture on our next missions," he said, his voice steady but firm.

Yacha shrugged, dismissing the comment. "You wouldn't understand, Ursang."

"Of course, I wouldn't understand. I don't let my feelings cloud my judgment like you do," Ursang retorted, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. 

-"This isn't just about you anymore."

Yacha's blue eyes narrowed, anger flaring. -"You think I'm being selfish? You have no idea what I've been through."

-"Maybe you should try talking about it instead of letting it fester! This isn't a game!" Ursang shot back, his voice rising.

The tension between them grew, each refusing to back down. Yacha stepped closer, his fists clenching at his sides. 

-"You think you can just lecture me? I don't need your advice."

Ursang's expression hardened. 

-"If you keep this up, it'll get us killed!"

Just as it seemed they might come to blows, Hadleigh stepped in, his voice cutting through the escalating heat. "Enough!" he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

-"If you two want to settle this, do it in the ring tomorrow evening."

Both Yacha and Ursang exchanged heated glares but finally stepped back, their anger still simmering as they acknowledged the suggestion. The conflict would have to wait, but the tension between them lingered in the air.

The sun rose on the day of the spar, and Ursang sought out Yacha, determination etched across his face. 

-"Are we going to do this or what?" he pressed, a hint of impatience in his voice.

Yacha brushed him off, barely glancing in his direction. 

-"I'm not interested, Ursang."

Without warning, Ursang unleashed a fireball in Yacha's direction, the flames flickering dangerously close. 

-"We're doing this! In the ring!" His tone left no room for negotiation.

Word spread quickly among the Seiken soldiers, drawing a curious crowd to the makeshift ring. The air was thick with anticipation as they gathered, eager to witness the clash between the two soldiers.

Yacha took his place, wielding his regular spear, while Ursang readied his sword, tension crackling between them. Before the signal was given, Yacha spoke up.

- "Let's set some conditions. If I win, I take the sword Sigurd gave you."

Ursang's expression darkened, displeasure evident. 

-"And if I win, you give up the axes and forget about Sigurd once and for all."

The terms hung in the air, a heavy weight of unspoken emotions adding to the charged atmosphere. As the crowd murmured in excitement, Yacha closed his eyes for a moment, letting his aura swell around him, a powerful force that surprised even Ursang.

"Ready?" came the signal, and without hesitation, Ursang attacked first, launching himself at Yacha with his sword drawn, eager to prove his strength and resolve. The duel was on.

As the signal echoed through the air, Ursang charged forward with fierce determination, sword slicing through the space where Yacha had stood. But to his shock, Yacha had vanished in an instant, like a wisp of smoke dispersing into the wind.

In the next heartbeat, Yacha reappeared behind Ursang, his movements fluid and precise. He delivered a swift punch to Ursang's back, sending him hurtling forward, crashing into the ground. Dust swirled around him as the crowd gasped in surprise, the sound of his impact resonating like a drumbeat.

-"Come on, Ursang! Is that all you've got?" Yacha taunted his voice light and teasing, clearly enjoying the spar. He danced around, effortlessly evading Ursang's frantic attempts to retaliate. With each swing of Ursang's sword, Yacha sidestepped or ducked, as if he were playing a game of tag rather than engaged in a serious fight.

Ursang's frustration mounted with every missed strike. His brow furrowed in concentration, his muscles straining with effort, but Yacha seemed to glide away from danger, his laughter ringing in the air like a mocking melody. Each time Ursang thought he had Yacha cornered, his rival vanished, only to reappear in another spot, fists poised and ready.

With a huff of exasperation, Ursang charged again, his anger fueling his speed. But Yacha was a step ahead, countering with deft maneuvers that left Ursang feeling like he was chasing shadows. The crowd watched with bated breath, sensing the tide of emotions swirling between the two fighters. Playfulness and frustration intermingle in a fierce dance.

With frustration boiling over, Ursang summoned all his strength for one final strike, bringing his sword down in a fierce arc aimed at Yacha. But in a breathtaking display of skill, Yacha deflected the blow with his bare hand, a confident smirk playing on his lips.

Before Ursang could react, Yacha pivoted, his body a blur of motion. He executed a perfect rotation, delivering a sharp kick that connected with Ursang's chest, propelling him across the ring. The impact echoed through the arena as Ursang stumbled back, gasping for breath.

As the crowd gasped in awe, Yacha wasted no time. He closed the distance, spear in hand, and swiftly placed the sharp tip against Ursang's throat, his expression serious. 

-"It's over," he declared, the playful demeanor replaced by a steely intensity. 

-"Hand over the sword."

Ursang, breathless and defeated, met Yacha's gaze, the fire of rivalry still burning in his eyes but knowing he had no choice. The match was won, and with it, Yacha's claim to victory solidified. The crowd erupted in a mixture of cheers and murmurs, the air thick with excitement as Yacha stood victorious.