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Jon was an orphan. Well, he had a father. A warder who died in the line of duty, being a hero, when he was barely eight. He left nothing for Jon when he was gone. No home, no relatives, nothing but a legacy.

Jon is that legacy now. His father left him the mantle, however, he was not who he was just for that. He has a teacher who took care of him, taught him how to be good, and that teacher was now risking his life to protect him and the others.

“Jon,” Noyar yelled behind him, “don’t just charge like a bullhead. Have you thought about what you’re going to do getting there?”

Shailyn was sitting on the side, peering at youths who had been inflicted with the afflictions. Oscar started working on the moment they reached here, without caring what the suit did to him to reach here. Well, he was the only one who could help here, and she knew he would pretty much blame himself if they lost anyone just because he was not there in time.

Two were already dead. The numbers would have been more if not for Noyar and Jon's critical decision in the nick of time. They had sealed away the dark affliction to the non-critical parts of the patients—almost like what she did when she was inflicted with them.

Sadly, even if they were practitioners, they were hardly at the level where they could barely save their lives. Some of them may never be practitioners again, some would lose a lot of their potential. Some of them may never be able to walk. Shailyn’s eyes were drawn towards the one, Oscar cured first.

He was alive, but his body was limp. According to Noyar, he was the most critical of all, yet he made it, though his legs were in not so good condition. They were not sure if he would ever walk again.

“So, you’re asking me to just sit here and wait?” Jon yelled at Noyar. “You might be fine doing that, but I won’t be.”

“I never said that,” Noyar said. "I'm asking you to consider the situation for a moment."

“What if it attacks the city?” Jon said, “While one man alone is fighting against it, as we scrabble, will this stop that thing?”

“We need a plan,” Noyar said, emphasising the word plan.

“No, no plan is going to work against it,” Jon said. “All we have to do is keep it from reaching the city until reinforcement arrives from her majesty or the academy.”

“How long are you planning to keep it occupied, then?” Noyar shroud for the first time. “Five minutes, ten minutes? Will that be enough?”

No, that won't work. Her majesty could produce some force, but they won't be able to stop the beast without collateral damage. As for the reinforcement from the academy? Even an Elite Knight with the dominion of gravity would take more than a couple of hours' time to get here, and they would need an entire squad here to stop it, which would take more time.

“So I should leave an old man to die alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” Noyar said.

“Since when did you become a coward, Noyar?” Jon said and looked down immediately, regretting. He couldn’t stare her in the eyes, but there was no going back now. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You know what? I think you should stay here. I'll leave.”

Jon was about to fly away, however, Noyar pulled him by the legs, stopping him from going further.

“Jon Al’born the II,” she screamed, “get your ass down here. You’re not doing this alone. Do you think you’ll be acclaimed as a hero, who died to save the city alone? You’re a fool, Jon Al’born, always has been. That’s what's good about you, but sometimes you can be a pain in the ass. You think everyone ever wanted you just to sacrifice yourself? Ever wondered what Lord Penron would think?”

“He would be proud,” Jon said, looking down as he turned off the dominion.

“Yes, he would be at your foolishness,” Noyar said slowly.

Jon calmed down a little after hearing out Noyar, however, it was time for someone else to scream.

“For the sake of the dead heroes, can you guys shut the hell up?” Oscar shouted, going for his fifth patient. “I don’t know if you guys notice, but I’m new to this. Healing takes concentration, which I’m failing miserably with you guys screaming the hell out here.”

Shailyn moved next to Oscar and touched him on the shoulder. His face was red now, all sweaty even in this weather. All of them were looking at him now with bewilderment.

Then the horrifying cry resounded again, taking everyone’s attention. Noyar stood and reached out for the window. She opened it as the chilly wind got inside the room. Her eyes glowed in blue as her face turned awful.

“It’s going for the city now,” she said, biting her lips.

Jon lifted his head and looked at her. He was almost crying, with half tears smeared in his eyes. “You said about a plan. Then tell me what I should do?”

“That’s the wrong question,” Noyar said. “It is: what should we do? We are together.” She stood together with Jon and looked toward her partner. “Shailyn, you stay here while I and Jon will see the situations . . .”

Before Shailyn could answer, Oscar opened his mouth. “That’s your big plan?” he asked Noyar, not lifting his head. “After all that shouting? Have you heard of yourself? 'We’ll see the situation.' It's precisely what Jon said. You just used different words.”

Noyar frowned, looking at me. “You have a better option?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he finally lifted his head to look at her and everyone else. “Do you remember the cavern I took you guys to yesterday?”

Noyar nodded.

“What are you intending?” Shailyn asked, rising. She had a bad feeling about this.

“Well, it's not really that much of a safe idea,” Oscar said, “but it has the highest chance of success.”

“Stop being mysterious and get it out already,” Noyar grumbled, while Jon was disturbed, as always.

“We’re going to trap the Saint beast,” he said. “There’s a spatial rift in that cavern. I want you to lure the beast there, but be careful there's . . . .”

Noyar and Jon left immediately after hearing out his plan. Surprisingly both of them agreed after considering it for a little while. Trapping a saint beast, or even killing one, was a heinous thing to do, however, they were out of options now. They couldn't just leave it to rampage on the city.

Jon didn’t have to carry Noyar as he did with the others coming here. He pushed Noyar with the dominion and followed behind to fly away. This was something they had practised many times before working in such conditions.

Oscar moved to his next patient. There were still four of them left, two of them were the underlings of the warlock.

“Are you sure this plan would work?” Shailyn asked.

“No,” Oscar answered, his voice still dry. “But we always have to deal with uncertainty. If I knew, this simple mission turned out to be so big . . .” He paused.

Shailyn waited, standing next to her, but no words came out of his mouth. “There’s something else you’re not telling me,” she said. She waited, looking at how Oscar worked, getting all sweaty. “Luring the beast into the rift is not your only plan. You wanted to go there, help them do it, is that it?”

Oscar didn’t answer, but Shailyn knew she got that right.

“So, you’re going to stop me from going there too?” Oscar lifted his head and looked at her incredulously.

Shailyn found a lot of emotion in those eyes, but the most apparent one of them was anger. Anger at her, anger at himself, for not being there. And wasn’t that her fault? She bit her lips, stooping down next to him.

“Scar,” she called, touching him on the shoulder. “I didn’t know. I thought I was doing it for the best.”

Oscar shook his head. Wisps of flame retracted into his palm as he moved to the last of the patients, ignoring the two rogue warders. “You did it for me, I can understand that,” he said, as wisps of crimson flames with a bit of silver glow flowed through from his palm to the patient. “You thought about my safety instead of trusting my abilities.”

He lifted his head to stare into her eyes. “Shailyn, aunt, with all my conduct before you send me away,” he said, “did I show any incapability that would hinder you on this mission?”

“No, I . . .”

“Yes, I went a little crazy after I killed that man. I started interrogating William without any protocol and even went as far as torturing him for all the frustration I had with that incident.” Oscar’s eyes were blurry with tear beads forming them, however, they glowed a little in red. “Aunt, I know you want the best for me, but look at her.”

Both of them stared Yeriel, who was unconscious at the side with beast antlers on her head. That was not all, she was radiating a wrong aura all the time after Oscar brought her back.

“Does she deserve this?”

“Nobody,” Shailyn said, wrapping her arms around his neck, “nobody deserves that.”

“You know, she never learned any arts that would let her harm others without it being necessary to pass the test. Her family never wanted her to come to the academy, but she fought with them, travelled thousands of miles to come alone to a foreign land, just to learn to heal.”

Shailyn burst into tears as the dead face of Lord Kirien and the few warders she saw came into her mind.

“If only I was there,” Oscar sighed as the healing finished. He masked all the emotion then, as his face turned resolute.

“It's not your fault,” Shailyn said. “Stop blaming yourself for everything.”

“I know it's not all my fault,” Oscar said as he stood up. He went to collect his sword without healing the two rogue warders. “But some are."

"You are not going to heal them?" Shailyn asked, "I know they did terrible things, still . . ."

"I think they will survive until I come back, and besides, there are better people who would need my help more than them."

“But, what if something goes wrong?” Shailyn asked.

“You still don’t trust me,” Oscar said and shook his head. “Stay here with everyone else.”

“Oscar, stop,” Shailyn shouted. “Take me with you. It's a saint beast, for Ishar’s sake.” she found there was no way for her to stop him now, but perhaps she could help to come with him. Yes, her condition was not right, but in desperate situations, ask for desperate measures.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve to disagree with you, aunt,” Oscar said as his suit warmed up, vibrating. “You can write whatever you want in the report as the Arbiter, but you’re not coming with me.”

Then red flakes of fire and white smoke hurled out from his back as he shot away, opening the door.

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Next Chapter: Disorder.

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