Back to the time before the explosion….
Inside the Vice Mayor's Mansion, the air was thick with scheming rather than fear.
Though still referred to as the Vice Mayor, Elric had long since lost his official authority. Suspended due to "dereliction of duty," he was under soft house arrest. The Mayor had strong suspicions that he was involved in the recent leaks—classified maps, the locations of safe zones, and even weaknesses in the town's defenses had mysteriously fallen into the enemy's hands. But without direct evidence, Elric couldn't be formally tried.
Nonetheless, the consequences were clear: most of his spies had been pulled out or exposed, and his ability to manipulate from the inside was now severely limited. Yet, Elric wasn't someone to give up easily. His mansion, though under surveillance, remained a nest of hidden communications and shadowy visitors.
In the drawing room, a group of loyal subordinates gathered with him, some wearing civilian clothes, others disguised as merchants. Elric stood by a large window, hands clasped behind his back, the wrinkles on his aged face deepening as he observed the smoke in the distance.
"…Once the signal is given, we'll proceed," one subordinate reported, voice steady. "Though our people inside the town are limited, we've already infiltrated key zones. When the signal flares, our men will assassinate the Mayor and the officials with him. Sir Carson will eliminate the Awakened agents sent by the Association. Those beasts will tear through the soldiers. Everything is in place, Vice Mayor."
Elric turned, a smirk tugging at his lips. His sharp eyes gleamed.
"Good. Just make sure no one screws up. One mistake and we lose not just the town, but our heads."
The men nodded solemnly.
"We understand."
"Everything will go according to plan."
Elric had served as an official in the town for a long time before being appointed as Vice Mayor, the second-in-command to the Mayor. Originally, he was meant to become Mayor—he had local roots and strong support. However, after the onset of the Doom Era, the new central government reshuffled authority, replacing local leaders with their own appointees. The current Mayor had been sent from the capital. Elric swallowed his bitterness, but he never forgot the betrayal.
When the Dawn Order approached him, promising power, recognition, and even an Awakened ability, he had agreed without hesitation. If the government had abandoned him, he would abandon them right back.
The plan was perfect: the Dawn Order would strike, loot, and leave. Elric would "lead" a group of survivors to a nearby city and be hailed a hero. The fall of the town would be blamed on the mayor. Once in the city, Elric would climb the ranks with ease, feeding intel to the Order in exchange for further rewards.
Everything had been going according to plan—until now.
The explosion.
Elric's smile froze. His heart sank.
From his window, he saw the rising flames. His grip tightened on the windowsill.
What is Carson doing? That wasn't the agreed signal.
Carson had left just an hour ago to eliminate that meddling brat who kept ruining their operations—Altair. The one who'd stirred up the Emett case, cost them resources, and disrupted the Dawn Order's foothold in the town. Elric hadn't thought much of the boy; even if he was Awakened, Carson should've been more than enough to handle him.
But now?
Elric turned sharply to his subordinates.
"Go! Find out what happened! Now!"
The men scattered, boots pounding on the polished floors.
A quarter of an hour later, the door burst open.
"Sir!" a guard panted, face pale. "Sir, bad news—very bad news!"
Elric's voice was cold. "Speak. Slowly."
"There was… an explosion in the prison. It's destroyed. There was fire everywhere. All the prisoners have been relocated. Inside, they found two bodies. One appears to be an unidentified Awakened."
Elric felt like the floor shifted beneath his feet.
"What?! Where is Carson?! What did our men inside report?"
The guard swallowed hard. "S-Sir, Carson went in after we placed the decoys. He was still inside when the explosion happened. We haven't seen him since. One of the corpses... they think it might be—"
"That's impossible," Elric snapped. "Carson can't be dead. That corpse wasn't him—it couldn't be."
His mind raced. Perhaps the one who died was the brat. Maybe their suspicion that Altair was also Awakened was true. Then Carson must have fought him, but got injured and went into hiding? No—if Carson were alive, he should have returned by now.
"Check on that brat. Find out where he is," Elric growled.
The guard nodded and bolted.
Just then, Elric's personal bodyguard entered, face grim.
"Sir, should we report this to Lord Larty?"
Elric gritted his teeth. Carson was supposed to be in charge of this operation. Reporting failure now could mean the end for him. He already lost Emett under his watch, now if something happened with Carson too. They wouldn't be able to keep their lives.
"…We wait for Carson," he muttered. "If anything fails, prepare to flee. Secure all escape routes."
His personal guard saluted and exited.
Only a few minutes passed before the first guard returned, his face pale.
"Sir... that young man is alive. He's already in the underground shelter with the other prisoners."
Elric's expression darkened like a gathering storm. His nails dug into his palm until blood pricked the skin.
That damn brat.
He was alive—but Carson was missing. Could it be… that he really died? Then all of their plans were in vain.
This mission was led by Carson. He was also their biggest trump card. If he's gone, then…
No. He had to leave immediately.
Elric ordered his men to abort the plan and begin preparing for a quiet escape. As he watched his personal treasures and wealth being hastily packed and moved out, he couldn't contain the simmering rage that surged within him. That wretched brat had ruined everything.
First, he killed the bandit scouts, stole the map, and sent it to the authorities. That forced their plans to move ahead of schedule. Because of that, the town had gone on high alert and even sought help from the Association, causing Emett to be caught.
Now this.
If not for him, Carson wouldn't have gone to the prison. None of this would've spiraled out of control.
He was truly hateful.
—
Below, in the cold, narrow corridors of the underground shelter, more than a thousand civilians were packed shoulder to shoulder. The walls wept moisture. The scent of sweat and fear hung thick in the air. People huddled in groups, whispering, weeping, praying.
Children clung to mothers. The elderly muttered frightened chants. A distant cry echoed from a deeper section. The floor was cold, hard—no blankets, no mats—just cold stone and human heat.
In a dim corner, Altair sat slouched against the wall. His clothes were slightly singed. His eyes were closed, but he remained alert.
He suddenly sneezed aloud, earning sharp glares from nearby refugees who got startled.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "My nose is a bit stuffy."
In his mind, he couldn't help but wonder—Who's cursing me this time?