Within the Imperial Army, there were several established principles. These included official rules for service life, such as mandatory wake-up calls at 6 a.m., and returning to the dormitories by 7 p.m. unless there were special duties. Any outside activities or training beyond scheduled hours required approval from a unit captain or vice-captain. Soldiers were also granted five days of leave per month during peacetime—a recent increase from three days, thanks to Supreme Commander Vale’s policies.

In addition to these formal rules, there were unspoken, unofficial ones shared among the troops. For example, junior soldiers were expected to schedule their leave around their superiors, and there was one particularly critical unwritten rule:

“When Captains Luke and Theo are dueling, avoid the training hall at all costs.”

The sharp clang of swords echoed through the air like an explosion. The intensity of the sound alone seemed unbelievable, as if the swords themselves were imbued with raw energy.

“Your movements are slowing, aren’t they?” Luke quipped, his lips curving into a sly grin as he closed in on Theo’s right flank.

“Or maybe your eyesight is failing,” Theo retorted, easily anticipating the maneuver and stepping back to widen the distance between them.

Though it was only a sparring match, the atmosphere between them was thick with tension. The killing intent they exuded was anything but ordinary for training.

The specialized sparring room they occupied had been built with extraordinary durability, crafted from rare minerals designed to withstand the overwhelming power of the Magic Unit. Yet, even this fortified room bore the scars of their clash. Cracks marred the walls, and equipment lay scattered and damaged across the floor. These duels were why soldiers knew better than to approach the training hall during their bouts—it wasn’t just dangerous; it was suicidal.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but my vision’s perfect—20/20,” Luke said, adjusting his grip on his sword. “I see as clearly as a Saharan hawk.”

As Luke readied himself for another strike, Theo abruptly tossed a white towel onto the floor between them, signaling the duel’s end.

“What’s this?” Luke paused mid-motion, a look of disbelief on his face.

“That’s enough. It’s been thirty minutes. We shouldn’t overdo it before this afternoon’s drills,” Theo explained, his tone practical and calm.

“Seriously?” Luke muttered, lowering his sword with an annoyed scoff. “If you were going to cut it short, why bother making a big deal about dueling earlier?” Shaking his head, Luke returned the training sword to its rack. Theo, as usual, wiped his brow with a towel, unbothered by Luke’s grumbling.

“Luke,” Theo called out suddenly.

“What?”

“I’d advise you to be cautious about mingling too much with the noble families,” Theo said evenly.

Luke raised a brow. “Why? You’re part of a noble family yourself.”

“Because you’re a soldier,” Theo replied, his gaze steady. “And not just any soldier—you hold a high-ranking position. You need to avoid creating unnecessary rumors and keep your conduct above reproach.”

Luke smirked, covering his mouth briefly as if suppressing a laugh. “So that’s it,” he mused. “You’re bothered by how friendly I seemed with Duke Raiden, aren’t you?”

Theo remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Luke stepped closer, his voice dripping with mockery. “Worried I’ll cozy up to the nobility and use them to take over the military? Relax. It’s not like I’d do anything underhanded… unless it benefits me.”

His grin widened into a charming, mischievous smile. “Better step up your game, Theo. Because I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win.”

Without waiting for a response, Luke turned on his heel and sauntered out of the training hall, his steps light and confident. Left alone, Theo stared at the empty space where Luke had stood moments before.

“‘Whatever it takes,’ huh?” Theo murmured to himself, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Interesting.”

***

As Luke reviewed the pristine white document with an indifferent expression, the detached demeanor of a seasoned leader masked the subtle fatigue behind his eyes. Standing before him was Pale, a member of the Detached Unit, visibly tense under the weight of the moment.

“Another transfer request?” Luke’s voice was calm, but it carried an edge that hinted at weariness.

“Y-yes, sir,” Pale stammered, his nervousness evident.

“What’s the reason this time?”

Pale hesitated, fumbling for words. His discomfort was painfully obvious. “Well… it’s just that…”

Luke waved a hand dismissively, cutting him off. He didn’t need to hear the same story again. Picking up his pen, he swiftly signed the document.

“Never mind. It’s clear they’re dissatisfied with my leadership style, as always.” He handed the papers back to Pale. “Take care of it.”

Pale saluted and left the room, leaving Luke alone with his thoughts.

The Detached Unit of the Imperial Army operated separately from the main force, renowned for its autonomy and versatility in executing unconventional operations. Whether it was diversionary tactics, double-agent missions, or initial responses to monster outbreaks, the unit excelled under extreme conditions. Consequently, its numbers were much smaller than other units. As its leader, Luke oversaw a core team of permanent members while supplementing his forces with soldiers borrowed from other units as needed for specific missions.

But lately, Luke’s unit had been losing its own members at an unsettling rate.

“Three transfers in two months,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair.

With Pale’s request processed, that made three permanent team members who had sought reassignment in the span of a few weeks. Luke couldn’t blame them. “If I were them, I wouldn’t want to work under someone like me either,” he mused.

In truth, he preferred it this way. He had no desire to shoulder the responsibility of other people’s lives, even if he had the strength to do so. Leadership was about more than brute force—it was a burden he found increasingly uncomfortable.

Standing, Luke turned to the window, gazing out into the starless night that blanketed the Empire. The sky seemed heavy, oppressive. “Villains are meant to be lonely,” he thought. It was the fate of every antagonist in the stories he knew. When their time came, when they met their ultimate demise or exile, there was never anyone left to mourn them.

“In that regard,” he muttered to himself, “I’m doing just fine.”

Luke glanced at the clock and sighed. It was late, and his body was starting to feel the strain of a long day—beginning with early morning training, punctuated by an impromptu sparring match with Theo, and filled with endless paperwork. Sleep was a luxury he intended to indulge in as soon as possible.

Gathering the remaining documents, he left his office and headed toward the dormitory block. The route passed through the supply depot area, where military equipment and armaments were stored. As he trudged along, his eyelids grew heavy, and his steps quickened in anticipation of rest.

Just as he approached the depot, a faint rustling sound drew his attention. His eyes narrowed. The first storage building should have been under watch, yet the sentry was conspicuously absent. Curious—and slightly irritated—he paused to investigate.

From behind the building, a figure emerged.

“C-Captain!” The soldier stiffened, snapping a sharp salute the moment he noticed Luke. It was Pale.

“On sentry duty tonight?” Luke asked, his tone measured but scrutinizing.

“Y-yes, sir. I heard a noise behind the storage and went to check it out,” Pale explained, his words spilling out quickly. He gave an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Turns out it was just a cat, sir.”

Luke studied Pale for a moment before nodding. “Carry on, then. Good work.”

Turning away, he resumed his journey toward the dormitories. The cat was a convenient excuse, but something about the situation left a faint unease lingering in Luke’s mind. Still, it was late, and he had neither the time nor energy to dwell on it further.

***

Why did he feel drowsy even after sleeping? Lately, this was Luke's recurring thought every time he woke up. The clock showed 6 AM. Normally, he would have woken up even earlier for his sparring sessions with Theo, but today, a regular briefing for all division captains at 7 AM meant he could skip the morning training.

After getting dressed and ready, Luke stepped out of the dormitory and headed toward the headquarters. The empire’s military grounds, bathed in the faint light of dawn, resembled a serene countryside path. It was an oddly peaceful and almost eerie sight, one that didn’t quite suit the life of a soldier. And yet, Luke didn’t mind the quiet atmosphere. Savoring the stillness during his walk to work was a small pleasure—a fleeting distraction from the reality of responsibilities.

“Bring me the inventory list first!”

“Did you check the other storage areas?”

Luke’s steps faltered as the tranquility of the morning was abruptly broken by commotion. His gaze turned toward the source of the noise—the supply storage area. Several soldiers were busily moving around, their voices filled with urgency.

“What’s going on here?”

“Captain.”

Unable to ignore the disturbance, Luke approached and stopped one of the bustling soldiers to ask.

“Well, actually…”

The soldier began to explain, but before they could finish, another voice cut in.

“Captain Luke!”

From a distance, another soldier ran toward him in a rush, their face pale and tense. Luke raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“What’s going on?” he asked calmly.

The soldier, slightly out of breath, straightened to deliver the message.

“You should come see this… right away, sir.”