The mission brief, delivered via the enchanted dart, led Daemon to a small, private briefing room deep within the commoners' complex. He found his new team already assembled, huddled around a topographical map projected onto a desk. All three wore the severe, functional black, gold, and red uniforms of the Imperial Academy, though their expressions betrayed nervous energy rather than Imperial confidence. They were all fellow commoners, presumably selected for their talent but also their relative political dispensability.
Daemon paused just outside the door, his augmented hearing easily catching the tail end of their hurried conversation.
"—and then he brought the Duke's son back to life just to kill him again! Sixteen times!" the first voice, sharp and high-pitched, exclaimed. This was Helga, a petite girl whose nervous hand movements betrayed her Telekinesis affinity.
"It's strategy, Helga. Cold, brilliant strategy," countered a calmer, more pragmatic voice—Jonas, a tall, broad-shouldered young man who was clearly the most physically imposing of the group, likely leveraging Earth magic. "Look at the results: he won the championship, and the Kaiser yanked him out of Berlin faster than lightning. He's a monster, yes, but he's our monster now."
"I just worry about the company we keep," sighed the third voice, Mikael. Mikael was slight and restless, his hands frequently moving as if tracing patterns in the air—a sign of his Wind affinity. "Did you see the report on the Lancaster duel? He made the air explode! They say he uses some kind of forbidden science. I heard he killed three people outside his apartment before leaving Berlin just yesterday."
Daemon decided the conversation had run its course. He pushed the door open and walked in, removing his coat and revealing the single, sheathed Chokuto blade strapped to his back.
The three students froze mid-gossip, instantly silencing themselves like startled mice. The transition from intense speculation to terrified silence was jarring.
Daemon offered a genuine, but calculated, smile—a rare expression that showed just enough teeth to be unsettling. He approached the desk with a composed, unhurried pace.
"Good evening," Daemon said cordially, his voice low and smooth. "I believe the notice makes me your final member. Daemon, at your service."
He extended his hand first to Jonas, the largest and most skeptical of the group. Jonas hesitated for a beat, clearly expecting cold disdain or a display of power, but then gripped Daemon's hand firmly. Daemon gave a firm, brief shake.
"Jonas, Earth Affinity," Jonas managed, still assessing the commoner-turned-prodigy standing before him.
Daemon moved next to Mikael, the Wind mage. "Mikael. Welcome." Another firm handshake. Finally, he extended his hand to Helga, who looked ready to faint. "And Helga, Telekinesis." Helga touched his hand as if it were white-hot iron, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and curiosity.
The introduction, utterly devoid of the arrogance they expected, somehow made Daemon more intimidating. The pleasant smile did not match the cold efficiency of his eyes.
Mikael, recovering slightly and curiosity getting the better of his caution, pointed tentatively at the blade strapped to Daemon's back. "That... that's the one, isn't it? The one forged from Adolf's mythril sword?"
Daemon reached back and unstrapped the weapon. The Chokuto was long, deadly silent, and shone with the faint, cold luster of its unique mythril-tungsten alloy. "It is. I reforged it to correct the structural flaws of the original." He presented the sheathed blade, hilt-first, to Mikael. "Go on."
Mikael hesitated, then accepted the heavy, perfectly balanced weapon with trembling hands. He ran a finger over the smooth, glossy charcoal wood scabbard. Curiosity overcoming his fear of the blade's origin, he took a deep breath and began to unsheathe the Chokuto.
The moment the dark, obsidian-grey metal slid free of the scabbard, the blade's unique blood enchantment activated. The rune Daemon had inscribed—the one that bonded the blade to his direct descendants—immediately assaulted Mikael's consciousness. Mikael let out a sudden, sharp gasp and stumbled backward, clutching his head with his free hand. The room swam violently around him. He felt an intense, crushing sense of vertigo, nausea, and disorientation, as if his spirit were violently rejecting the blade, his mind struggling to anchor itself against the weapon's powerful, foreign magical claim. He hastily thrust the blade back into the scabbard and practically dropped the weapon onto the desk.
Helga squeaked. Jonas immediately stepped forward, placing himself between Daemon and the dizzy Mikael.
Daemon calmly picked up the blade, re-strapping it to his back. His smile was gone. "My apologies, Mikael. I should have warned you. I added an irreversible ownership rune to the alloy. It is bound to my Aetheric signature and my bloodline. Any other person who wields the blade will experience acute magical rejection, making it impossible for them to focus or fight. It's simply a safety precaution, in case one is lost or seized."
Jonas stared at the terrifying commoner. The blade was not only physically devastating, but now also magically cursed against anyone else.
With the atmosphere firmly established—equal parts awe, fear, and reluctant respect—the team finally settled to business. Jonas, taking the lead, tapped the projected map.
"Alright, Daemon. The mission is simple. We have three days to prepare, then we move. Our objective is to deal with the bandit groups that have been terrorizing the coastal villages near Insbruck."
Mikael, now recovered but looking sickly, explained the details. "These are not high-priority territories, so the Kaiser's regular army cannot spare the troops. Instead, they send us, the students. The bandits are highly organized, operating out of the remote mountain caves and preying on the trade routes and fisheries."
Helga chimed in, managing to sound professional despite her fear. "Intelligence suggests they use minor Earth and Fire affinity mages for raiding. They are well-equipped, but disorganized. Our job is a quick, total eradication. Full containment within five days, starting with recon."
Daemon leaned over the map, the weight of the mission brief settling over him. It was grunt work, but it was real work, requiring strategy and application. "Understood," he said simply. "Three days to prepare. We meet here tomorrow morning for detailed tactics."