The minutes stretched on.
People groaned in pain, shivered from fever, or clutched makeshift bandages as they waited their turn. Some had burns—evidence of lingering magic injuries from the war—while others looked like they had barely eaten in days.
Leo was patient. He waited. He went inside. He kept waiting. Outside and inside was soothed misery.
When it was his turn, Étienne the apothecary looked up—and his breath hitched.
"W-what happened to you?" A thin, wiry man with curly blond hair, sharp green eyes, and a slightly hunched posture from constantly working over his medicinal supplies, his hands reeked with blood, herbs, and antiseptics.
Leo staggered forward to sit on his knees. He let his breath shake, his shoulders trembling just enough to sell the illusion.
"I—" Leo choked out, pausing as if struggling to speak. "Soviet soldier. I—" He shuddered, blinking rapidly. "I barely got away."
The apothecary paled. "Henri…Henri! You need to see this!"
"What's…up…? Oh my god."
The Sacred Guard and the apothecary of the Council of Civilians recoiled at him.
Leo lifted his shirt. He had changed into his garbs he found on the street: a sleeveless black shirt and trousers ripped at the knee. He lifted the shirt to show what the Soviets had actually done. The damage to his ribs and flesh. The twisted, mangled flesh.
Cue more looks and small gasps. Out of everyone they had treated today, Leo was by far the worst.
Leo let out a slow, deliberate breath, as if pushing through agony. "I—I'm from the Dark Sector. I just—I just need to go home. To my family." He lifted his head, looking between them with pleading, pain-filled eyes. "Is that possible?"
"Is that..."
"Please!"
His begging was too convincing. The apothecary and the knight exchanged glances and then nodded.
"Yes," Étienne said quietly. "Once we finish tending to these people, we will escort you to the blockade and request your passage."
Leo swallowed hard—a perfect touch of fake relief.
"T-thank you. I owe you my life."
Henri went down on one knee. Truly a kind knight. "What is your name?"
Leo's lips parted—hesitated—then answered.
"Anemoi."
The knight nodded, accepting the answer. Leo smiled inside.
'Knew it. Gullible.'
What had caused such disgust? Such sorrow and sympathy? Cuts. Giant or small or somewhere in between, they ripped half his face apart. One half that had his features and the other a bloody mess.
****
Four Hours Later – The Japanese Blockade
The apothecary was equally new as he was talented. That was to say—Étienne was incredible. He bandaged up his face and stated it would take a week to heal. As for his ribs and the damage done to that, that would take a month. Maybe more.
Given Leo's natural disposition, the timeline would not be wholly accurate. It was not a matter of technique or skill or any of that sort. Leo did not know any healing skill. He was simply born with a disposition that accelerated his healing. The same way that some individuals were blessed with divine blood, a lowly nobody of a warrior cult was blessed with advanced healing.
Furthermore, he had been trained to ignore pain. To render it useless. Combining it with his natural healing and he could do insane acts such as ripping part of his face. For his daughter, anything.
The blockade was heavily fortified. This was the border between the Recreation Sector and the Dark Sector.
And beyond it—Phoebe.
Leo walked in silence as the apothecary and the Sacred Guard led him forward. His movements were slow and calculated. 'Watch your step, watch your step…' Keeping the illusion of a wounded, desperate man intact was vital to everything.
Up ahead, Japanese officers observed the line of carriages and people waiting for passage. Twin gates with a Rikugun-Shōshō—Major Generals. Unlike the newbies, these men were veterans. Their piercing gazes held disdain, their uniforms immaculate, adorned with golden insignias that glowed faintly under the checkpoint lights.
But…Ginzo—the Rikugun-Chūjō—he was not here.
That was all that mattered. Leo had been feeling the wind and had been subtly buying time for when Leo sensed he was not focusing and acting as the watcher.
'My range for sensing is FAR greater than yours, Ginzo.'
He smiled on the inside when the apothecary and the Sacred Guard stepped forward. The Major Generals were already denying someone, waving their hands in dismissal as a man begged for entry. His carriage had that strange smoke thingy.
"Those two are Major Generals Takeshi Mori and Shigeru Nakahara. Don't worry," Henri hushed in a whisper, "We will get you to your family. Although…we probably won't be able to join you."
Leo pretended to be depressed. "B-but, without you…"
"Be strong." Henri flashed a smile. "The same way you were strong when you got to us."
"I…understand."
They did not skip the line. They could have, Henri said, but it would make them look bad and desperate. Better to follow the rules. After sending away the smoking carriage, the eyes of Major General Takeshi Mori turned toward the three.
"What does the Council want? General Mori asked, his tone cold.
The apothecary Étienne pointed to Leo.
"This man was trafficked from the Dark Sector," Étienne explained. "He was tortured by a Soviet soldier. As former Allied Powers in the war, you should help him return home."
The generals' expressions darkened. Leo saw exactly what they were thinking. They didn't like this. They didn't trust this. The war was over and these damn newbies were bringing up history.
But—they had to acknowledge formalities. The golden sigil of the council was on the Sacred Guard. Hernri's presence changed everything. He might have been the weakest fighter here but behind him was the full authority of the Civilian Council.
The Major General's jaw tightened. His pride warred with his duty.
Then—finally—Major General Takeshi Mori exhaled sharply.
"Fine."
Leo kept his face wincing and in pain, but inside—he exhaled.
The gates opened.
The Dark Sector awaited.
Leo walked forward, his heartbeat steady.
In his mind, only one thought remained.
Phoebe.
"I'm coming home."