Sunlight filtered through the curtains of Milo's bedroom, filling the small room with a warm, golden glow.
The soft chirping of birds outside stirred him from sleep, though a heavy weariness lingered in his body, as if he had carried a mountain overnight.
Milo slowly opened his eyes, but his left eye glowed a deep, ominous red.
A strange, sharp tingling ran through it. Instinctively, he sat up quickly, clutching his eye as a slow wave of pain spread through him.
He removed his hand for a moment, and his eye returned to its normal color.
His expression, however, betrayed a mix of sadness and worry.
The side effects…
Milo tried to remember what had happened and how he had ended up at home.
He recalled clearly how Celestine had tested him… pushing him to his limits.
Suddenly, he got up quickly, noticing his pendant lying on the desk. He grabbed it and rushed out of his room.
He went down the stairs and noticed a figure sleeping on the couch.
At first, he thought it was his sister, but as he looked closer, he realized it was Celestine, deep in sleep.
Her posture was relaxed, almost fragile, with her black hair spread across the couch cushions. The soft rise and fall of her chest with each breath gave her an almost peaceful appearance, despite the fierce battle from the night before.
Milo descended the stairs slowly, a mix of surprise and caution on his face. His brown hair was still a bit messy from sleep, and the faint shadows under his eyes hinted at the exhaustion and tension from the night before. He moved quietly, speaking in a soft, almost whispering tone:
"What… what is happening?"
As he turned slightly, he noticed his sister, Melina, sitting on a chair, fully alert, her eyes fixed on the news playing on the television.
Melina looked at Milo, her expression a mix of worry and surprise.
"Milo, you're awake!" she said softly, concern lacing her voice.
Milo stared at her calmly, though a hint of bewilderment lingered in his eyes.
"My sister… tell me quickly, what is this woman doing here?" he asked, referring to Celestine.
Melina raised her hand, pointing toward the television.
Milo turned his gaze quickly toward it. "What's happening?" he whispered.
The news flashed urgently across the screens, tense and alarming: a major crime had shaken the city of Novara. Eight police officers were killed, and ten more were injured in the middle-class district, slightly near the poor neighborhood.
The people were furious, blaming the killer and calling him a monster, after it became clear that he had slain police officers. Images spread throughout Novara revealed the culprit: long green hair with two distinctive strands.
Milo stared at the screen, a mix of anger and sorrow flooding him. "Toxivar… it's him, without a doubt."
Neither the church nor Novara's government had taken action yet, but the city's security dispatched armed Novara police units equipped with advanced technology to track down the boy who had shaken the city with such shocking news.
Milo was in complete shock at the news, barely able to believe what had happened.
He spoke in anger, his voice cutting through the silence:
"What… what is that idiot thinking?! Why did he do this???"
Melina looked at Milo, her eyes filled with curiosity and concern:
"Do you know this person, Milo?"
Milo answered her calmly, his voice steady despite the anger:
"He's one of the troublemakers… I think he's one of their leaders."
Behind him, Celestine sat, holding her head and speaking quietly:
"Alright… alright… everything is clear now."
Her eyes gleamed with determination and resolve, as if preparing for something significant.
Celestine sat, resting her hands on her thighs and looking down:
"Damn… I shouldn't have left the Novara police to deal with him alone…"
Milo looked at her sharply:
"What do you mean? Do you know something about what happened last night?"
Melina glanced at them, confused, unsure of what was going on.
Celestine lifted her eyes toward Milo and Melina, her voice calm and steady:
"Good morning, children of Arthur."
Celestine looked at Milo calmly and began speaking:
"Last night, when you lost consciousness, Milo… that person attacked me and tried to take you with him.
I stopped him and took you with me, then withdrew…"
She slightly rolled up her sleeve, showing Milo the bandage wrapped around her arm, then continued:
"That boy attacked me while I was withdrawing, and unfortunately, he managed to injure me.
I asked the Novara police to handle him, thinking they could defeat him… but… what happened, happened."
Milo remained in shock from everything he heard:
"Toxivar… he wanted to take me with him?"
Celestine smiled faintly and replied calmly:
"Oh… his name is Toxivar, then.
But I didn't expect him to win… it's impossible for him to succeed alone, even if he's strong.
Their weapons were enough to take him down."
Melina, sitting on the chair, her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders and her brown eyes shining with curiosity and concern, suddenly looked at Milo and asked:
"Milo… could this person be the one who told you about the Church? The boy who took you to the Troublemakers' headquarters?"
Milo looked at her, his eyes calm but cautious, trying to convey an unspoken message: You shouldn't say this in front of Celestine.
Celestine, sitting on the couch, quickly understood the situation and then let out a soft laugh:
"What's with you? So cautious, huh?
Even when I slept under the same roof with you, you still didn't trust me!"
Melina looked at Milo carefully, trying to clarify something for him.
Milo sighed slowly, his voice calm but heavy with the weight of the truth:
"Celestine… she was our late mother's apprentice. She was the person who accompanied Mom the most during her missions…"
Melina closed her eyes for a moment, absorbing the words, while Milo kept his gaze on Celestine, her eyes shining with determination, adding to the sense of mystery surrounding her connection to their family.
Celestine smiled at Milo, as if testing whether he would trust her now.
"Will you trust me now?" she said, chuckling lightly.
Then suddenly, she picked up her phone and began searching through old photos, showing him one.
In the picture, Celestine was standing beside Milo's mother. His mother was very beautiful, with long brown hair like Milo's, but much longer. She resembled Milo and Melina, but with more mature and adult features. Beside her, a young Celestine appeared as a teenager, wearing glasses and her hair tied back, looking extremely shy, with black hair.
Milo let out a sigh, feeling a wave of nostalgia in his chest.
"Alright… I'll trust you… I have no other choice…" he said softly, a mix of resolve and gratitude in his voice.
After a few minutes of breakfast and getting ready, Celestine looked at Milo and said,
"We need to go to the investigation center and tell them what you know about that boy."
Milo looked at her, slightly annoyed.
Celestine raised both her hands reassuringly:
"Don't worry… I'll be the one to speak. After you explain everything to me, I promise…"
Celestine opened the door and stepped outside.
Milo raised his hand in farewell:
"Goodbye, sister…"
Then he quickly followed Celestine outside.
As they walked, Milo began explaining everything he knew to Celestine.
"The problem isn't just this boy…" Milo said, his voice calm but filled with concern.
"There are people above him in rank… directing him. I believe they want to destroy Novara…"
Celestine listened to Milo calmly, a slight smile forming on her lips.
"Interesting… right now, the police are only focused on capturing him. They have no idea what's being planned."
Milo held up his phone: "I have proof here!"
Celestine raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, very good. With this, I'll send a report to the Church about this matter, so they can take care of the Miscreants as quickly as possible before they make any move… even though…"
Milo looked puzzled at her calmness. "Even though… what?"
Celestine seemed slightly annoyed and upset. "The Church doesn't care about matters like this… all they care about is that the rich in central Novara aren't harmed. So they won't send strong support… or maybe they'll only send some agency or guild members, or a few of Novara's police to handle the matter."
Milo looked at her, speaking to himself, "She talks a lot…"
Celestine continued calmly: "Even though she holds the government in her hand, along with the Seven Guards of Novara, she wouldn't risk using them unless the wealthy district was threatened…"
Milo and Celestine walked through the crowded streets of Novara, where the sounds of bustling markets mingled with the clatter of carriages, and the aroma of street food filled the air. The buildings were close together, their colors somewhat faded, with windows sometimes closed to block out the noise. On the sidewalks, people hurried along—some rushing from work, others chatting with friends.
The weather was sunny, yet a cold breeze swept through the alleys, giving a simultaneous feeling of lightness and chill. Life here was busy, but there was an underlying tension after the recent events in the city.
Celestine walked beside Milo, appearing annoyed by the situation yet nonchalant. She lifted her head slightly, gazing at the blue sky: "This isn't fair… it's discrimination…"
Milo and Celestine finally reached their destination. They stood in front of the intended building, the Novara Investigation Center. The building was large, with gray stone walls, reflective windows, and iron doors adorned with official insignias. Around it, a light flow of staff and passersby moved, yet the place exuded a sense of seriousness and authority, as if anyone who entered would face the truth without compromise.
Milo paused for a moment, looking at the building with a hint of tension, while Celestine stood beside him, calm yet seemingly ready for anything.
Milo and Celestine moved slowly toward the entrance of the Investigation Center. Every step they took on the paved ground seemed deliberate, the atmosphere around them filled with a calm tension. The building's windows reflected the morning sunlight, and the long shadows of the stone pillars amplified the sense of sternness and seriousness.
Milo lifted his eyes slightly to take in the surroundings, while Celestine walked steadily beside him, her gaze observing every movement, as if ready to act at any moment.
Inside Novara's wealthy district, a massive gate stands guarded by two highly trained guards, only opening with special permission. Beyond this gate, the wealthy families of Novara live in luxury, the atmosphere starkly different from the rest of the city. The streets are pristine and quiet, lined with gardens in bloom and small fountains, reflecting the opulence of its residents.
Despite the violent events of the day, some residents speak of the news with condescension or indifference, seemingly unconcerned about what happens in other areas.
In one of the palaces, specifically, stands the residence of the Talented Leader a massive and lavish building with marble pillars and grand gates, a clear display of his authority and status among Novara's elite.
Inside Tavian's vast mansion, a heavy silence filled the halls
not the silence of peace, but the deep breath taken before a coming storm.
On one of the upper floors, guards moved in perfect formation, their black uniforms reflecting discipline and authority. Servants hurried through the corridors carrying documents and sealed crates marked with the insignia of the "Gifted."
On a long leather couch lay Raiza, resting with her sword held loosely in her hand.
Her dark hair draped over her shoulder as she slept a restless sleep, exhaustion mixed with alertness. Even in slumber, her grip on the sword hilt showed she was ready for battle at any moment.
From behind some doors, the raised voices of the Gifted members echoed arguments, teasing, competition.
Tavian's mansion was more than a fortress;
it was a home for those rejected by their families or cast aside by Novara.
Tavian brought them in, treated them as his own, and for many, this place became the only home worth defending.
On another floor, inside a large, meticulously organized room with massive windows overlooking Novara, sat Tavian on a luxurious couch.
Tall, with wavy red hair that swayed lightly with every movement, and sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through anyone who faced him.
He wore a long black coat with silver embroidery along the sleeves his presence demanded respect and fear simultaneously.
Beside him sat a short-haired girl with black hair just below her ears.
In a corner of the large room stood Adelheid, short gray hair, a slim face with sharp features, wearing thin glasses that highlighted her intelligence and seriousness. She held a large screen in her hands, monitoring every movement in the room and readying any information Tavian or others might need. Her light military attire completed her strong presence, showing she was prepared for any situation.
In the corner of the room stood Marcus, a man with short gray hair and a slight beard. He appeared to be in his late thirties, with a calm but sharp demeanor. He had only one hand,He held a Rubik's Cube in his single hand, twisting it thoughtfully as if solving a puzzle was second nature to him.
A mysterious, unfamiliar figure sat across from Tavian. His presence was calm but carried an unsettling weight, as if he observed everything with sharp, calculating eyes. His attire was simple yet elegant, dark colors blending into the dimly lit room, making it hard to discern his intentions. Every movement he made was deliberate, measured, giving off an aura of quiet authority and danger.
Tavian spoke calmly and confidently, a slight smile curling on his lips. His eyes glimmered with anticipation as he observed the room. "It seems the Troublemakers' gang is about to make their move," he said, his voice steady yet carrying an unspoken weight of authority.
The mysterious figure spoke calmly, his voice low but firm.
"I see… but I don't think what happened last night was part of their plan."
Tavian's brow furrowed slightly as he considered the words.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice measured yet curious.
The mysterious figure leaned on his right hand, his gaze steady.
"I mean what happened last night wasn't ordered by Number One," he explained. "The boy with green hair acted on his own, carrying out his actions independently."
Tavian leaned back slightly, a hint of intrigue lighting up his calm expression.
"And what makes you so sure of that?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity.
Tavian's eyes narrowed slightly as a slow smile formed on his lips, the intrigue growing with every word.
The mysterious figure spoke with clear confidence, a seemingly innocent smile gracing his face, free from any malice.
"The target of Number One… is to destroy Novara, specifically the Church," he said calmly. "He won't make any unnecessary moves, even if it means eliminating some soldiers along the way."
Tavian nodded slowly, his mind piecing together the meaning behind the words.
"So… if the green-haired boy acted on his own…" he prompted.
The mysterious figure paused for a moment, leaning slightly on his right hand, then finally responded,
"Yes."
Tavian's lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile, a subtle thrill running through him.
"Excellent. Excellent indeed," he murmured, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and calculation. "I must bring him into my family… the Talented."
The mysterious man lowered his head slightly, trying to stifle a laugh.
"Great… you want to add a psychopath to the Talented."
Tavian's eyes gleamed with amusement as he replied calmly,
"Everyone here already knows who the real psychopath is."
The mysterious man lifted his head high, letting out a soft, kind laugh.
"You got me… I give up."
He stood up and walked toward the window, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
Reaching the window, he raised both of his hands.
A wicked, malevolent smile spread across his face as he looked out the window, unnoticed by anyone in the room.
"Everyone living in this miserable city will witness a new era, full of calamities and destruction."
Tavian looked at him, smiling, somewhat pleased, while the others in the room watched with concern at the mysterious man's words.
Marcus had finished and now completed the cube, holding it carefully in his one hand.
The atmosphere inside Tavian's palace was heavy with a mix of elegance and tension. The high ceilings echoed faint footsteps, while grand chandeliers cast a soft, golden glow over the polished marble floors. Shadows stretched along the walls, shifting slightly with the flicker of candlelight and the occasional movement of guards and servants. The air smelled faintly of old wood, incense, and the faint metallic hint of weapons nearby. Every corner seemed to hold a secret, and the quiet hum of whispered conversations added to the subtle unease, as if the palace itself was aware of the schemes and ambitions brewing within.
The Novara Investigation Center was a vast, imposing building, its high ceilings stretching above like a cathedral of order. Inside, the atmosphere was a mix of clinical efficiency and tense anticipation. The walls were painted a muted gray, lined with large windows that filtered in pale morning light, casting geometric patterns across the polished floors.
The main hall buzzed with the quiet hum of activity: officers moved briskly between desks stacked with files, their footsteps echoing softly on the marble floor. Phones rang intermittently, papers rustled, and the faint mechanical whir of computers added a steady rhythm to the organized chaos.
Metal detectors and security scanners stood near the entrance, silently asserting the authority of the center. The smell of disinfectant mingled with the faint aroma of coffee from the small break area, creating a sterile yet humanized environment.
Rows of cubicles lined the sides of the hall, each occupied by focused investigators typing, reviewing evidence, or speaking quietly on headsets. Glass partitions reflected the fluorescent lights above, giving the center a slightly cold, almost intimidating glow.
At the far end, a set of double doors led to private interview rooms. Through the glass panels, Milo could see officers speaking with witnesses, their faces tense with concern or concentration. Celestine moved confidently beside him, her posture straight, eyes scanning every corner, noting exits, cameras, and the general flow of activity.
Milo and Celestine entered the investigation center quietly, the sterile smell of disinfectant and paper filling the air. The hum of computers and occasional murmurs of officers at their desks added a sense of routine urgency.
Celestine approached the reception, showing her identification with calm authority. "We have information regarding a recent incident involving the gang led by the green-haired boy," she said, her tone firm yet controlled.
An officer nodded and gestured toward a large, glass-walled room where investigators were gathered. Milo followed, his eyes scanning the room
Celestine reached the heavy door first, pushing it open with a quiet strength. Milo followed closely behind, his eyes scanning the room. Inside, the bright fluorescent lights reflected off walls lined with filing cabinets and official notices. Several investigators looked up from their desks, papers scattered around, expressions a mix of curiosity and impatience.
The air smelled faintly of coffee and antiseptic, a reminder of long hours spent chasing truths. The hum of computers and occasional phone rings filled the tense silence.
Celestine stepped in first, her posture calm but alert, scanning every corner as if reading the intentions of those inside. Milo walked beside her, clutching his pendant tightly.
"Good evening," celestine said, her voice steady but firm. "We need to report what we witnessed last night."