An Esquire

Makhos returned after lunch. Levana was awake this time, even though Zemin had to spoon-feed her chicken broth because she was too weak to lift her arms.

The angel listened patiently to Zemin's tale about the Void System, but his calm and beautiful face didn't give the boy a hint of what he was thinking about.

"You must be truly blessed by His will, Zemin. There are theoretically an infinite amount of dimensions, but having them actually connect to ours is extremely rare—the chances of it are one in a million. And a case like yours is unheard of! I already thought that you will make a fine Soldier, Zemin, but with the blessing of the Void System, maybe…"

"Maybe? What's else is there above a Soldier, Mister Makhos?" Zemin asked. Then he gaped at the angel as a wild idea came to him. "It can't be… An Exemplar?!"

Levana gasped, too. "An Exemplar?! That's… But that's…" she trailed off and added more quietly. "That's such an honor, but you'd have to fight so much… I don't want you to live me all alone here and never return, big brother…"

"Yes, an Exemplar. They risk their lives for us all, and every year, they save countless people with their bravery and selflessness. Only the most determined and strong Soldiers can have this honor, but in return, they are provided a lot of resources. Only the best for the best," Makhos said, smiling again. A simple expression was so majestic that it made both children breathless.

He didn't need to add anything for Zemin's eyes to light up. The boy's eyes were already lit up by the shine of all the stories about the heroics of Exemplars.

The sneaky Sivan Menas, who planted and blew up a Psi-enhanced bomb in the middle of a demon army, destroying it a mere day before it would destroy Whiterock City.

Powerful Rusk Blackwaif, who, together with his team of five, defended a bridge against an army for two hours and giving the rest of his squad a time to retreat to safety.

Damian Glind, who had only one good eye and one good limb left. He was captured six times, and each time he escaped, always saving more slaves and prisoners from demons' clutches.

Each of them was immortalized as a hero they were, and their families were provided for the rest of their lives.

'Maybe,' Zemin thought, 'If I work really hard, and do something as heroic and important, an S-rank Healer-Psionic will heal Leva.'

As if reading his thoughts, Levana met his eyes and frowned. He smiled to reassure her and decided to work his very hardest from now on.

***

5 YEARS LATER

A gate guard studied a set of documents with a lazy eye, then compared them with a face in front of him. The face belonged to a silver-blond youth in a cadet's uniform, who was holding a travel bag in his hand.

"Zemin Gatti, hm? You look awfully young."

"Thank you, sir. You too."

The gate guard choked on air, not expecting a retort like that from this teen. More so, it was spoken with such a calm face that the guard wasn't sure if the teen was mocking him, or actually sincere.

"Damnation… Alright, your documents are in order, Esquire Zemin. Take them and go. Your squad's barracks are number 4, same as the division."

Zemin took the documents from the guard post's tray with a polite nod, thanked the guard, and left. Only when the guard couldn't see him, he relaxed his features, and his mouth twisted into a wry smirk.

He easily found the barracks on the well-planned base. Since the door wasn't locked, he stepped inside without knocking.

After passing through an antechamber with outside clothing and boots, he entered a small hall with a couch and a TV, which was showing something on mute.

Two people sat at a small table in front of it, playing cards: a slim young man with dark brown hair and a black-haired woman in her mid-thirties, who would've still been beautiful if not for a large pink scar that crossed half of her face.

When Zemin entered, both turned to him in an instant. The brown-haired man narrowed his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here, kid? Are you lost?" he smirked mockingly. "Should I help you find your mommy, kiddo?"

"Or did you think I am your mother?" the black-haired woman asked. Her tone wasn't mocking, just slightly disdainful.

Zemin stood straighter. There was tension of emotion in his chest, but he forcefully kept his face locked in the same expression as before.

"I am Zemin Gatti, as of last month graduated from the High Point Military Academy with honors and sent to the 4th Exemplar Squad of the 4th Exemplar Division to report to the Sergeant Exemplar Loann Jagger to study as an Esquire under his command. Is he there?"

The expressions of both people darkened in an instant. Like a thundercloud, Zemin could feel Psi-energy emanating from their souls.

The brown-haired man threw his hands on the table and stood up.

"An Esquire? Really? A pipsqueak like you? The only way you are killing any demons is with laughter!" He gestured at himself and his companion. "What the hell did the Headquarters think when they accepted you into Esquires?!"

Zemin glared at the angered man. "Are you doubting decisions of the High Command, sir? Do you think you are smarter than Lord's Messengers?"

The man grit his teeth. Before he could speak up, the black-haired woman set her cards down and stood up, too.

"Of course not. We doubt YOU."

Her aura flared up, and Zemin's breath caught up—literally. Something was blocking his airways, not letting him draw breath.

A moment later, the brown-haired man smirked darkly. His Psionic attack shackled Zemin's limbs, freezing him in place.

"Think again if you really want to be here, boy!"