Rescue Mission

The night enveloped the dense rainforest with its dark cloak, only the sounds of wildlife filled the air — until they were abruptly cut off by the hum of a low-flying cargo plane. Inside, a group of students from the Pentagon Academy, along with experienced heroes, prepared for a night jump. Among them, Sam adjusted his equipment, determination shining in his red eyes. There was no room for doubts or hesitations; this was the time to prove his worth beyond the walls of the academy.

The mission was clear: a local village had been taken over by a criminal faction, using the residents as hostages. The intimidation tactic was not new, but the response this time would be different — a direct intervention from the clover hero guild, in conjunction with the Pentagon. "Remember, our priority is the hostages. Neutralize the threat with the minimum of confrontation possible," instructed the mission leader, an imposing figure who did not need to raise his voice to be heard.

The preparation for the mission was in full swing, and the pre-battle tension was almost palpable. Alice, with her two katanas strapped to her back, was the personification of determination. Her black hair, tied up to avoid any distraction, and her eyes, as dark as the night, reflected the seriousness of the situation. Her black tight-fitting outfit not only highlighted her well-trained physical form, but also prepared her for the secrecy required in an operation like this.

Sam, on the other hand, approached with the calmness that was characteristic of him, reflecting the light in the midst of the darkness of the mission they had ahead. "Are you ready?" His voice, light and friendly, cut through the silence between them, a breath of fresh air in the charged atmosphere.

"Yes," Alice replied, her voice as sharp as the weapons she carried. "Our enemies are only human, aren't they?"

Sam nodded, his expression becoming a mirror of Alice's determination. "Yeah, but the mission is to save the hostages. Remember, even if they are humans who don't pose a threat to us, they can still take lives."

Alice nodded back after hearing Sam's words, and her black eyes met his red ones in a charged silence. It was one of those moments suspended in time, where words were not necessary and a simple look seemed to say it all. They were hypnotized, trapped in a mutual trance, until…

Like a comet breaking the atmosphere, Noah burst onto the scene with a radiant smile, hugging them both from behind and effectively cutting the mood. "Let's put on a show today, huh. I want to see you giving your best," he announced with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. Noah, the eternal optimist, always ready to inject some of his inexhaustible energy into any situation.

"Hello, Noah," Sam replied, his voice tinged with the disappointment of having his romantic movie moment interrupted by an unexpected comedy. Noah's appearance was like a reminder that, even in dangerous missions, there was always room for a little light.

"What's up, my grandiose friend. Did you come alone from the first year?" Noah, always curious, threw the question in the air, as if he were taking notes for some future adventure or maybe just keeping a mental record of who would need an extra dose of protection.

As an answer, Sam simply pointed to Blake, the enigmatic boy with white hair and blue eyes. Blake with a metal arm, was not only a mark of his resilience, but also a symbol of his strength, a detail that Noah filed away with a nod of understanding. "I see, Blake also came then…" Noah murmured to himself, already scheming plans for each of them.

The Clover Guild, not only one of the five great powers of the human continent but also an academy that seemed to flirt with the thin line between audacity and madness, had organized this mission. It was like a graduation party, only instead of dance and champagne, there were weapons and potential for disaster. Leading the spectacle was an A-class hero, whose shiny head had not a single strand of hair. Maybe it was a battle trophy, who knows? The man exuded authority, to the point of making anyone think twice before questioning his methods, even if those methods included jumping from a plane without a parachute.

With the press of a button, the hatch of the plane opened, revealing not the way to freedom, but rather to the wild forest below. It was time for the show to begin, and the stage was set.

At the edge of the hatch, the cast was diverse: soldiers equipped with parachutes, ready for a safe jump, and heroes and students, whose only safety seemed to be blind faith in their abilities or, perhaps, a life insurance policy with questionable coverage. "We are more than 2,000 meters high, and they are not going to put on parachutes?" The question came from the soldiers, whose confusion was palpable. To them, the scene resembled more of an extremist cult than a rescue operation. "What do they have that we don't have? Invisible wings?"

The leader, whose baldness now shone under the cabin light like a beacon of insanity, just smiled. "Heroes don't need parachutes," he declared, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did, in the world where jumping from a plane in free fall was just another Tuesday.

So, like birds determined to prove Darwin wrong, the heroes began to jump, one by one, leaving the soldiers with their jaws on the floor and their beliefs in physics seriously shaken. Sam, Alice, Noah, Blake, each of them threw themselves into the darkness with the grace of someone who had done it a million times, or at least had seen enough action movies to believe they could.

"Look mom, no parachute!" could very well be their war cry, as they fell towards the earth with nothing but courage and, hopefully, a plan to not turn into stains on the landscape.

And while the soldiers finally jumped with their parachutes, probably wondering if the hero's life was worth the extra insurance paperwork, the forest waited, indifferent to human quirks. Because, in the end, whether with parachutes or pure stubbornness, everyone reaches the ground eventually. The question is just how.

---

The village lay under a veil of silence, save for the chirping of the crickets and the occasional creaking of boots against the ground. The armed men, sentinels of the night, patrolled with watchful eyes, but distant souls, lost in thoughts that only the darkness knows.

Among them, two shared the last breath of a cigarette, a small flame of humanity amid the tension. The smoke intertwined with the cold air, forming spirals that disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

"I'm sleepy already, what time is it?" The question floats in the night, casual, almost lost among the sound of the crickets.

A glance at the watch, and the answer begins to form, "Now, it's one in the morning and…" But the sentence is never completed. The abrupt silence, more deafening than any word, fills the space where a conversation flowed.

Confusion. A name is called in the dark, "Vagner?!" But only the echo of a restlessness answers, accompanied by the incessant chorus of the crickets.

The tension thickens, palpable. The remaining man raises his rifle, every muscle tense, every sense sharpened. The focus narrows to the iron sight, the vegetation ahead promising dark secrets.

"There's something here." The statement is a whisper, a challenge thrown at the darkness that swallows everything, except the fear and the expectation of what lies beyond the sight.

The heart beat fast, echoing in his ears as loud as the crickets around. The reality of this world, where the laws of physics seem to play hide and seek with death, made every shadow, every imperceptible movement, a potential threat. His friend, "Vagner", disappeared as if swallowed by the air itself, a macabre magic trick without an audience to applaud.

The nervousness wove its web, tightening his chest. The idea that Vagner could be playing a prank faded fast; here, even the impossible had a foothold in reality. A step back, an instinctive gesture of caution, and then, the sound. A branch breaking, a whisper of violence in the quietness of the night.

He spun, rifle in hand, hoping to find the source of his terror. But there was nothing. Only the emptiness, the dark swallowing even the hope of understanding. The forest, with its secrets and shadows, seemed to mock his vigilance.

The sweat, cold and dense, traced paths on his skin, marking the trail of his fear. And then, without warning, the night was torn by shots, a chorus of despair that spread through the trees.

The sharp sound of the shots was a scream in the darkness, an unmistakable sign that the hunter had become the prey. The other guards, alerted by the screams, exchanged looks loaded with understanding. They didn't need words; the sound of the shots spoke a universal language of danger.

---

Alice cast a disapproving look at Noah, whose hands still held the spear, the last act of violence still fresh in the air. "You alerted them." Her voice, a mix of exasperation and concern, cut through the quietness with surgical precision.

Noah, with a slight smile that defied the gravity of the situation, removed the weapon with a fluid gesture, staining the earth even more with the consequences of his actions. "Sorry, I guess I should improve my stealth skills." The lightness in his voice was almost a counterpoint to the weight of the moment, a touch of humanity amid the chaos.

Then, like a ghost summoned by the moon itself, Blake emerged from the shadows, an imposing figure under the silver light. The surprise of Alice and Noah was palpable, a silent testimony of Blake's almost supernatural presence. His new metal arm, a living reminder of past battles, shone under the moonlight, a testament to his resilience.

Without being distracted by the stares fixed on his direction, Blake began to conjure his shadows, a dark spectacle that defied comprehension. "Hey! hey! I'm here too!!" Noah backed away, an attempt to keep the lightness in a moment where the darkness threatened to swallow everything.

The shadows, obeying Blake's call, moved with a life of their own, dancing around the three like snakes seduced by the flute of a charmer. And, in an instant, the darkness, like a final embrace, enveloped the body of the dead man, consuming him in a veil of darkness from which nothing escaped.

Noah, still trying to process Blake's supernatural display, couldn't help but marvel inwardly. "What an interesting innate skill," he thought, the adrenaline of the battle tinting his curiosity with fascination. In a world where the extraordinary became commonplace, Blake's shadows were a reminder that limits were made to be surpassed.

Blake, on the other hand, was focused, his attention turned to the village in the distance, only a few meters separating him from his goal. "The hostages are located in the cabin. But I'll take care of the henchmen, Sam is already on his way there," he planned, his mind working as quickly as his shadows. The connection he had with the shadows of all living beings not only gave him a formidable power, but also a comprehensive view of the battlefield, an omniscient look over the chaos.

Alice, with the serenity of a lake on a windless night, unsheathed her two katanas, the moonlight reflecting on the cold steel. "Let's act soon. Now that they know we're here, the hostages are in danger." Her voice was calm, but carried the urgency of the situation, a call to action that did not admit hesitation.

Blake, however, surprised them both with his disheartened response. "You don't need to worry about the hostages." The casualness of his speech, in contrast to the tension of the moment, made Noah and Alice raise their eyebrows in surprise and slight disbelief. "Sam is already there."