Chapter 144
Shaqar felt how the brief speech seeped into his chest like a fire that did not burn, yet warmed.
He looked at the letter in his hand, looked at the map he had just received, looked at the faces around him that had suddenly become sharper and more focused.
He saw how the members of the Anti-Rumble Line began moving toward their designated directions, how Team Xirkushkartum, which was not under his command, started to depart while holding their respective maps, how emptiness slowly formed in the room that moments ago had been packed with people.
And when it was his turn to move, when he realized that his team would soon step out and face whatever was happening in Thalyssra, Shaqar could only take a deep breath and follow the flow that had already been set.
'Everything is still under the same command.'
A few seconds after Zhulumat's final instruction echoed through the now-emptying room, Shaqar took a deep breath for the first time since the thunderous boom.
He had not realized that he had barely been breathing all this time, that his chest had been constantly tight with tension that never truly subsided, that every breath he took was always cut short by an anxiety he could not even name.
Now, amidst the increasingly dense bustle of preparation, among soldiers passing by with maps in their hands and weapons at their waists, Shaqar felt a strange relief filling the cavity of his chest.
Not relief because the situation had improved, for he knew it had not and might grow even worse in the coming hours.
Not relief because the danger had passed, for he knew the danger was only about to begin once they stepped out of this room.
But rather, a relief born of something simpler and more personal.
Relief that his nineteen subordinates, including Apathy who had just delivered a report from the border, remained under his command.
That in the chaos they were about to face, he would not have to lose them before the battle had even truly begun.
The composition of the team around him began to take clear shape after some time.
Shaqar stood at the center of his own group, surrounded by Apathy and the other eighteen members of Team Xirkushkartum who had long been his direct responsibility.
Outside that circle, thirty-six members of the Anti-Rumble Line began forming neat ranks, ready to move wherever they were ordered.
Four members of the Orbit Severance Unit stood slightly apart, their posture different from ordinary soldiers, with an aura that made it clear to anyone who saw them that they were an elite unit placed there for special purposes.
And two members of the Banner of Zhulumat, direct envoys of the supreme leader, stood closest to Shaqar, ready to become the eyes and ears that would report every movement back to Zhulumat himself.
A considerable number for a team, significant enough to make a difference, heavy enough to rest upon the shoulders of a captain who only hours ago had still been struggling with his own doubts between myth and reality.
But as Shaqar began to observe more closely, as he started to see who exactly commanded those thirty-six members of the Anti-Rumble Line, he realized that this team composition was not as simple as he had thought.
Twelve of them moved toward Makakushi, standing in a formation that made it clear they were his subordinates, that they would heed his commands, that they would move wherever he led.
Another twelve chose positions near Onigakure, in the same manner, with the same loyalty, with the same readiness to follow a captain known for his complex theories and sharp observations.
And the remaining thirteen, the largest group among the three, gathered around a man who had mostly remained silent during meetings, who had never spoken when Hopsly voiced skepticism or when Makakushi refuted Onigakure's theories.
Zhereth.
The captain of Team Xirkushkartum who was little known, rarely spoke, and preferred observing over intervening in debates, now suddenly emerged to the surface with thirteen soldiers behind him, ready to join the same team as Shaqar.
'Their steps are in unison. There is no more hesitation in their feet.'
With burning resolve in each of their chests, team after team began leaving the room that for hours had borne silent witness to debates, doubts, and finally the great decision made under the pressure of insufficient time.
Shaqar stood at the front of his group, now expanded into a small force composed of various different elements, feeling that same fire spread within his chest even though he knew fire could mean either light that guides the way or flames that burn them all before they reach their destination.
He looked at the faces around him, looked at Makakushi standing with his twelve subordinates, looked at Onigakure surrounded by soldiers who trusted his theories, looked at Zhereth who remained a mystery with his thirteen followers, looked at Apathy and the eighteen members of Team Xirkushkartum who had long been his responsibility, looked at the four members of the Orbit Severance Unit standing with a posture unlike the others, looked at the two envoys of the Banner of Zhulumat who would serve as the eyes and ears of their supreme leader.
All eyes were on him, waiting for the signal, waiting for the first move, waiting for the sign that this nightmare would truly be faced together.
The first step was taken neither hastily nor with hesitation.
Shaqar led his team out of the room, following corridors they had only ever traversed during emergency drills, heading toward the exit that would bring them to the surface, to Thalyssra, to the heart of the capital blessed by the Great Sanse, now enveloped by something unknown.
The map gripped tightly in his hand, a map given by a member of Team Xirkushkartum not directly commanded by Zhulumat, revealed hidden routes that ordinary spies would never find.
Narrow paths that could only be traversed by a few people at a time, underground tunnels that had remained secrets of the satanic order for centuries, gaps between buildings that were never recorded on official city maps.
The route was designed to bring them close to the castle without passing through overly exposed areas, without drawing the attention of Angels and Holy Beings whose numbers had surged beyond trillions, without becoming targets before they could even see what was truly happening at the center of everything.
Behind Shaqar, a long line of soldiers moved in silence, broken only by the restrained sound of footsteps, by breaths carefully controlled not to quicken, by heartbeats each person tried to steady though none truly succeeded.
Makakushi walked with eyes constantly shifting left and right, observing every corner, every shadow, every possible threat that might emerge from the unexpected.
Onigakure occasionally glanced back, ensuring his twelve subordinates were still following in order, that none were left behind or lost within these complex underground passages.
To be continued…