「So let me ask you, Young Koby… What if this world isn't as you believe it is? What if we live in a fantasy? What if we all live in a novel? And if this world were a novel, it would be labeled as romance. And yet, there lived signs of Fantasy. That means… this story is not exactly romance to begin with.」
This is General Koby, speaking. Within that day, the day when my old friend, Old Geezer George, said those words, I had thought it was just… a simple joke meant to break tension on purpose.
It was annoying, and irritation dawned on me so hard I almost got convinced to maybe punch the soul out of the old man before age took him.
Then again, it was a joke. A joke that I didn't like. An unnecessary joke. And a joke… that I wished stayed true to its purpose.
Until…
…It happened.
[Warning received, presence confirmed
Enemy units advancing fast
Radar shows multiple contacts
Establish defensive positions now
Bravo team, hold the perimeter
Echo fire only on command
Identify targets, do not hesitate
No civilians in the zone
Ground forces under heavy pressure]
[Air support unavailable
Take cover immediately
This is not a drill
Ammunition check, status red
Communications unstable
Keep formation tight
Execute fallback protocol
Delta point compromised.]
Just this morning, he sent me a message. A poem. At times in the morning, I'm busy.
But whenever he sends out a poem, I always give it time to read and analyse the poem he sent out.
Commander George is sometimes a cryptic old geezer—sending poem messages on a random afternoon.
However, a poem of his is often a coping mechanism for an emergency call. And he does it so often he gets used to it and even makes the poem based on the book he has read, or sometimes based on situations he's currently in.
[Go, move, move, move
Evacuate the area now
Tactical retreat authorized
Head to extraction point
Echo squad, provide cover
Regroup at rally marker
Estimated time critical]
[Injured personnel prioritized
Maintain radio silence
Movement under smoke
Extraction inbound
Do not stop for engagement
Ignore nonessential targets
All units fall back
Time to contact minimal
Exit the combat zone
Link up at safe distance
You are clear, hold position]
Him sending out poems this early in the morning, means he's in a situation.
A dangerous one, if not.
How could I tell?
How was I able to understand it all too clearly?
How is it that I knew for a fact that him sending these poems means something?
Those questions irritate me.
I'm pretty sure that there exist action movies who use poems as a way to send out an emergency message. And how it works is very simple; It's all in the first letters of each sentence of the poem.
If you separate the sentences from each first letters, you get this:
W - arning received, presence confirmed
E - nemy units advancing fast
R - adar shows multiple contacts
E - stablish defensive positions now
B - ravo team, hold the perimeter
E - cho fire only on command
I - dentify targets, do not hesitate
N - o civilians in the zone
G - round forces under heavy pressure
A - ir support unavailable
T - ake cover immediately
T - his is not a drill
A - mmunition check—status red
C - ommunications unstable
K - eep formation tight
E - xecute fallback protocol
D - elta point compromised
G - o, move, move, move
E - vacuate the area now
T - actical retreat authorized
H - ead to extraction point
E - cho squad, provide cover
R - egroup at rally marker
E - stimated time critical
I - njured personnel prioritized
M - aintain radio silence
M - ovement under smoke
E - xtraction inbound
D - o not stop for engagement
I - gnore nonessential targets
A - ll units fall back
T - ime to contact minimal
E - xit the combat zone
L - ink up at safe distance
Y - ou are clear, hold position
And now, combine all first letters into one sentence, and you'll get this.
"We're being attacked. Get here immediately."
That's how I found out. Sure, it takes time, but it's worth it.
Whenever I finish analysing the poem, I always have to make a move immediately. People are in danger.
And whenever I go, I always gotta keep alert of the upcoming messages in my phone. Because, who knows, he might sent extra.
***
The heavy, salt-laden air of the Bay of Bengal whipped across the flight deck of the Titan-Class aircraft carrier, a steel behemoth that seemed to command the very tides.
On its sprawling surface, fifteen jet aircraft sat like tethered birds of prey, their engines cooling after recent sorties.
Ten helicopters were stationed at the ready, while over a hundred soldiers moved with the practiced, frantic energy of a hive, working continuous shifts under the oppressive sun.
Surrounding this floating fortress, five military helicopters maintained a tight, vigilant perimeter, their rotors churning the humid air as they scanned for any shadow of an unexpected attack.
Through the haze of the horizon, a lone military transport helicopter approached.
It didn't signal for a landing pattern as it breached the inner security borders.
Instead, the side bay doors slid open with a jarring metallic crash.
A man stood in the opening, his blonde hair catching the sunlight, his posture as unyielding as a mountain. He stood by his own might, unaffected by the 120-knot winds screaming past the fuselage.
This was the man who had accepted the burden of hunting the devil: Koby Frantzes.
The soldiers inside the cabin exchanged panicked glances. They looked at General Koby, their eyebrows shooting up behind their tactical visors.
One brave soul, gripped by the sheer insanity of the scene, stepped forward to intervene.
"General, what in God's name are you doing?!" the soldier shouted, his voice nearly lost to the roar of the rotors.
Koby didn't look back at first. "I am jumping," he replied, his voice unnervingly steady. "What does it look like to you?"
"Jump? Sir, we are at an altitude of two hundred meters!" the soldier protested, his hands gesturing wildly at the dizzying drop below.
Another soldier chimed in, his face pale beneath his helmet. "General, that's suicide! You could die at this height! Even if you survive, there won't be enough of your body left to fill a casket!"
General Koby slowly turned his head. He didn't scream; he didn't need to. He simply leveled an intimidating glare at the two subordinates—a look so heavy with authority and raw power that the air in the cabin seemed to thicken.
"Just who do you think I am?" Koby asked, the words carrying the weight of a death sentence.
Both soldiers instantly snapped their gazes to the floor, the gravity of their insubordination crashing down on them.
This is a muscle of the military they are talking about. A monster who took part in an event… that changed history forever.
They retreated into the shadows of the cabin, a chorus of "Sorry, sir!" falling from their lips as they trembled.
Koby turned his back on them, his attention returning to the abyss below. The helicopter banked, positioning itself directly over the primary landing platform of the carrier.
Without a parachute,
Without a harness,
And without a moment's hesitation, Koby Frantzes stepped into the empty air.
He plummeted, the free and refreshing breeze slamming into his frame as he transformed into a golden streak against the blue sky.
Inside the "Radar Approach Facility," the atmosphere was usually one of quiet, technical precision.
That changed the moment a glowing red blip appeared on the primary monitor. A technician leaned in, his fingers flying across the console as he tracked an incoming unidentified flying object.
"Commander George, we have an intercept! Something is about to hit us from the zenith... it's moving at terminal velocity, maybe faster," the soldier reported, turning his head sharply to the right.
He looked at Commander George, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a strange, determined smile playing on his lips.
"Should we engage the point-defense systems? Should we open fire?"
"Stand down," George commanded, his eyes fixed on the radar screen. He didn't move an inch. "We don't want to lose the very pillar that shields this world from the evils outside. Besides, that man is far from 'unidentified.' That is General Koby."
The technician's serious expression shattered into one of pure shock as the name registered.
He looked back at the screen, then at the altimeter. "...And why is he falling from the sky? Sir, the radar says he dropped from two hundred meters!"
Commander George turned to the soldier, his smile widening as he raised a curious eyebrow.
"'Why' you ask? Son, in the presence of a Frantzes, 'why' is an irrelevant question. The real question shouldn't start with 'Why,' but 'What'... What is he, truly?"
George turned back to the display, his mind conjuring the image of the man currently defying the laws of physics.
"Is he truly human? Is he merely a powerful military man?" George mused, his voice dropping to a respectful hush.
"It all depends on the history of his bloodline. The Frantzes family is known for a passion so dense it strengthens the physical form through means science cannot yet map. And General Koby? He is strengthened by his absolute sense of heroism. He didn't just train to be a soldier; he gained the literal strength of a hero."
The soldier listened, his eyes wide with fascination as he absorbed this classified fragment of the General's legend.
"So it isn't just about will? Wouldn't that make him greedy for power if he lacked the moral compass of a hero?"
"You're mistaken there," George corrected gently. "One cannot be passionate about Heroism without a heart that demands it. The power and the person are one and the same."
Outside, as Koby neared the platform, he rotated his body mid-air. He made short, impossibly precise movements to adjust his drag, shifting the momentum of his fall.
On the deck below, sirens began to wail as soldiers rushed out of the main base, sensing the impending impact.
"As we speak, General Koby strives to protect the peace he fought to build," George continued, his gaze drifting to the window.
"His mere existence is the second greatest reason there hasn't been a World War Three..."
Then, Koby hit the deck.
The landing was a cataclysm.
The shockwave of his impact delivered a blow so violent that the entire aircraft carrier—over a hundred thousand tons of steel—tilted violently at a sharp, terrifying angle.
The sea around the hull erupted, massive waves splashing intensely as the kinetic energy was displaced into the water.
Miles away, minor tsunamis hit nearby beaches, causing panic as the ocean suddenly surged inland.
Inside the ship, the world turned upside down.
Soldiers were thrown from their feet, sliding across the metal floors. Even those bolted into their chairs found themselves sprawled on the ground as the ship groaned under the stress.
In the radar room, only 'two' men remained standing, his boots seemingly glued to the floorboards: Commander George, and…
"...Because if a war did break out, there is no doubt he would end up annihilating every country that dared to pursue anything other than the peace he dictates," George whispered into the chaos. "He is the strongest this world can produce. A real-life Superman. And..."
Commander George let out a long, heavy sigh.
"A Hero."
The ship slowly began to right itself, the metal screeching as it settled back into the water.
George ignored the groaning soldiers climbing back to their feet; he expected them to recover quickly. His attention was pulled toward the rear of the room.
"And yet," George added, his voice tinged with a sudden bitterness, "he is no hero to a few specific cases. What a weird world we live in... honestly, what else could go wrong?"
The soldiers, still in disbelief of the event, all looked up at the Commander before them. They all lay down there, amused and motivated. Of course, nothing could go wrong…
…but then, someone spoke out.
"...So, that's one of this world's 'Ministers'?" a voice slithered out from the darkness.
A figure emerged from the shadows of the facility, draped in a black cloak. White hair spilled out from a deep hood, casting a shadow that obscured most of their face, save for a smug, knowing smile.
The figure stood with a hand on their hip, radiating an aura that felt entirely alien to the military environment.
"That's quite impressive," the figure continued. "In my world, I know a woman who harbored the same strength. But here is my question, Commander: is such a monster truly necessary in a world where Romance is more likely than crucial?"
George turned his head just enough to see the figure out of the corner of his eye, a smirk of his own forming. "As long as people like 'you' exist, he is. But recruiting a man of his stature isn't why you've slithered onto my ship, is it? You have other intentions for the General."
The figure laughed, a light, melodic sound, and shrugged. "Haha. It is a shame, though. A waste of potential. After all, this guy is no joke, yet he still doesn't quite meet the requirements for our deeper... interests. He could have been a great help to the cause."
The figure in the black cloak turned away, the fabric fluttering like a raven's wing as they prepared to vanish back into the vents and shadows.
"Mind letting him know I was here?" the figure called back over their shoulder. "I don't really have the patience for a public chat with a man who hits like a falling star."
With those words, the figure disappeared, leaving no trace of their presence.
Commander George stood alone in the center of the room, straightening his uniform as he waited for the heavy thud of General Koby's boots to reach the main base.
"I'd be damned… a bit too late to make another poem to tell him we're actually fine."