Chapter 18
The Ideal she carried within
“No warrior of light listed in the Resistance archives possesses the ability to replicate what happened yesterday,” Linart stated.
Aaronn sat on the edge of his bed as he listened. He had recounted everything the night before to Linart and Lunamilla. She had remained silent the entire time, lying on her bed with her back turned to the room.
“At first, I thought they were ordinary mercenaries,” Aaronn replied. “But they started vanishing one by one. The last one scared the life out of me before he disappeared. He looked… possessed. And the vehicle they used to escape vanished the same way a few moments later.”
“You said they evaporated into black smoke?” Linart asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s strange. The power of the warriors of light usually manifests in white or golden radiance—symbols of their purity.”
Aaronn’s initial hypothesis—that a warrior of light had orchestrated the attack—was steadily dissolving. Besides, what interest would they have in abducting Senator Neima’s son? And yet only one of them could wield such supernatural force.
“Do you think Chosen could be acting of their own free will in the world below?” Aaronn asked.
“Hm… I don’t think so, but it’s possible. Still, I doubt that’s the answer. The Chosen’s abilities aren’t as developed as those of the warriors of light, and when they do grow stronger, they’re usually invited to join the king’s ranks.”
Linart crossed the room toward the desk at the back, where a small cathode television sat. He picked up the remote and switched it on.
“Senator Neima’s address is about to begin,” he announced.
Lunamilla turned toward the television without speaking.
Jaje Neima stepped behind a conference podium, bombarded by camera flashes. Within seconds, journalists’ questions rained down upon him:
“Senator Neima! Rumors claim your attackers suddenly disappeared when emergency forces arrived—is that true?”
“Senator Neima! Some guests say they saw a young man intervene to defend you! Was he the one who neutralized six of your assailants?”
“Senator Neima! Is it true the attackers were targeting your son?”
The senator remained silent, waiting for the clamor to subside. Gradually, the journalists quieted, giving him space to respond.
“All the answers you seek are already within your questions,” he said calmly. “If I have chosen to address you so quickly, it is because these events have deeply shocked me. It is the first time in the political history of the world below that such violence has occurred. I also wish to express my gratitude to the young man who defended us—my son, my men, and myself. His performance was more than impressive, and I invite him to contact me so that I may thank him properly.”
The announcement did nothing to soften Aaronn’s stern expression. He was determined to understand what had truly happened.
“Furthermore, I have a very important announcement to make…”
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A fresh storm of flashes lit up the room.
“Although my attackers mysteriously disappeared, the equipment they used was similar to that employed by the personal guard of the ruling senator, Godrick Leroy.”
Gasps and stunned reactions rippled through the conference hall.
“You know me—I do not accuse the innocent lightly. These revelations are not intended to tarnish his reputation, but I must speak the truth. The weapons used against me are manufactured and utilized exclusively in Umbrea, the city under Senator Godrick Leroy’s jurisdiction.”
Questions exploded once more, unanswered. The senator’s guard escorted him out of the room.
Recent events have increased Senator Neima’s approval rating by 150%, placing him at the top of the list for the upcoming election…
“Wow. I didn’t see that coming,” Linart admitted, lowering the volume. “That changes everything.”
The night before, Aaronn had tried to return to the senator’s residence, but every access point had been sealed. He had found Lunamilla at the foot of the building and left with her soon after. He hadn’t been able to confirm the disappearance of all the mercenaries—but now he had his answer.
“Wait,” Aaronn cut in. “That doesn’t explain how they vanished. I doubt technology can do that—even with amarite. I felt it with my own hands. The residual magic of their evaporation.”
“That’s true…”
Suddenly, Lunamilla broke her silence, startling both of them.
“Maybe we can’t even trust what happened,” she said softly. “Senator Neima is cautious and calculated. It’s not like him to make accusations so quickly without evidence.”
“Where are you going with this?” Aaronn asked.
“Maybe it was staged—to eliminate one of his competitors. That would leave only Solana to defeat in the election.”
“Yes, but how do you explain the mercenaries dissolving into smoke?” Linart countered immediately.
“We suspect Neima of collaborating with Eile?n—especially by providing information about Half-Chosen who escape their control. It’s possible he receives help in return. The magic we saw yesterday could have come from a warrior not yet listed by the Resistance. Maybe a new recruit.”
From their perspective, the theory was solid.
But Aaronn was not entirely convinced. He didn’t know the political programs of the other senators, yet Neima’s platform was already strong. He had no need to orchestrate underground warfare to boost his chances. And if he truly collaborated with Eile?n, discretion would be in his best interest.
“Good reasoning,” Aaronn conceded, rising to his feet. “But as always, there are shadows left to illuminate. Given Neima’s popularity, Godrick had little to gain from orchestrating the attack. He risked strengthening public sympathy for his rival—and that’s exactly what happened.”
“Unless he intended to blackmail him into withdrawing,” Linart replied. “After all, they were targeting his son.”
Silence settled over the room, heavy with unanswered questions.
Suddenly Aaronn stretched his arms with an audible exhale, as though shaking off the weight pressing down on him.
“I’m going out,” he said. “I need to clear my head.”
“Where are you going?” Linart asked.
“No idea.”
With that, Aaronn left the room.
Linart’s trust in him had grown day by day. Aaronn had thrown himself fully into their conflict.
Linart turned toward Lunamilla, who still lay on her bed, silence reclaiming her lips.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You’ve barely spoken since yesterday.”
She curled in on herself slightly more than she already had.
“You can talk to me,” he continued, sitting on the bed opposite hers. “I’m your friend.”
Her eyes glistened, and her words struggled to break free from her throat.
“I was frozen,” she said at last. “I couldn’t do anything. I hate myself for it.”
“Lunamilla… there was nothing you could have done against them. It’s not about you—they were experienced mercenaries. Even I wouldn’t have been able to intervene.”
“Yes, but you would’ve found a way to be useful,” she shot back, guilt thickening her voice. “You would’ve helped the guests escape. I just stayed there, hiding and watching. How can I claim to belong to the Resistance if I don’t even have the courage to protect those we’re meant to defend?”
Linart’s hands clenched. He inhaled deeply and straightened his back with renewed resolve.
“You’re far braver than you think. The very fact that you joined the Resistance proves it, Milla.”
She pulled the blanket slightly over her face.
He had called her a girl, not a woman.
To her, the difference was immense. A girl was innocent, fragile, unable to assert herself against the world. A woman, by contrast, overcame obstacles, stood at the forefront of great causes, and changed the course of history.
That was the image of the ideal she carried within her:
A woman loved.
A woman respected for her greatness.
Like the leader of the Resistance.
And like… her sister.
