"He isn't a mage, nor does he have good looks. What did you even see in him to bring him here, Captain?"
"Yeah, I believe you had your reasons, but still... he could be a spy from the Empire."
Arthur could barely hear the muffled voices in the background. He was drifting between awareness and darkness, his body heavy, his mind fogged. He didn't even manage to open his eyes before falling unconscious again.
The next morning, Arthur slowly stirred. His eyes fluttered open to meet a rough stone ceiling.
The room was small, just enough for one person, with walls of uneven rock about eight feet high. It looked and felt like a cave. There were no decorations or markings—just a single glowing stone embedded in the wall casting a dim, warm light. A rough wooden door stood at the entrance.
"Where... am I? It looks like a cave," Arthur thought, pushing himself up to sit, leaning against the wall.
The bed beneath him was made from wood, dry fodder, and ragged pieces of cloth—rough but warm. He held his head for a moment, piecing together the memories.
"That man... who was he? Did he bring me here?"
And then the weight of reality hit him like a crashing wave.
"Mother...!"
He jumped off his bed.
"I... I left her," he whispered, as tears welled up in his eyes. They streamed down his cheeks, hot and unforgiving.
"Useless. Coward. Piece of shit. You couldn't even protect your mother after Father was gone."
The thoughts screamed in his mind, each one sharper than the last.
"No... no! Leave me alone!"
"ARGHHH!"
Arthur screamed, clutching his head, lost in despair.
The door slammed open.
"Ugh, who is it?! Shut up, would you?!" a girl in her mid-twenties shouted, stepping inside. Her voice echoed with irritation.
She was taller than most girls, with a body built not for brute strength but agility. Her figure suggested training in stealth—perhaps a scout or spy. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, colored somewhere between red and brown. She wasn't strikingly beautiful, but she carried a presence—fierce and no-nonsense.
"Look, brat. If you're gonna cause a ruckus, get the hell out. This cave's already noisy enough."
Arthur looked at her, startled and still dazed.
"Calm down, Matilda. He's just a new kid," came a softer voice as a boy entered after her. He looked to be in his early twenties—and carried a smile on his face.
"Give him some time to adjust, would you?"
Matilda huffed.
"That's 'team leader' for you BEN. I don't want to correct you again. And if he wanna adjust, then he can do it quietly." Said mathilda her gaze fixed at arthur
Ben laughed nervously.
"Sure, sure. But don't forget, we have to take him to the conference. It starts soon. Shouldn't we hurry?" interrupted Ben.
"Yeah, right," Matilda groaned. She turned to Arthur.
"Hey, brat Come . We'll explain things on the way."
"Ye... yes," Arthur replied, hesitant and shaky.
Ben offered a smile and extended his hand.
"Let me help you."
Arthur took it and stood. Together, they followed team leader Matilda through the narrow halls of the cave.
"Don't mind her," Ben whispered as they walked. "She's rough on the outside but not bad inside. She forgets what she said half the time."
Arthur tried to nod but couldn't help scanning the cave around him. People bustled about—some carrying supplies, others sharpening weapons or whispering over maps.
"Where is this place? And who saved me?" he asked, awestruck.
"Ohhhh, that was Captain Gideon," Ben said, eyes lighting up with admiration written all over his face.
"Hey! We're not supposed to tell him anything yet," Matilda snapped, looking at Ben with dead eyes. "He's not one of us yet."
Just then, they reached a large metal door—the only one Arthur had seen in the entire underground complex.
Matilda stopped and looked him dead in the eye.
"Okay, get in there and answer whatever they ask. Don't even think about lying. There's a mage with enhanced senses in there. If you lie, you'll be dead before you even blink."
Her voice softened, barely a whisper.
"Don't let the Captain down."
She opened the door and pushed Arthur in.
Seven people sat at a semicircular stone table, faces serious, eyes unreadable.
A man at the end of the table spoke first.
"What's your name?"
"Ar... Arthur. Arthur Vryheid," he answered, trembling under their gaze.
Another leaned forward.
"Arthur, why were the soldiers chasing you?"
The weight of guilt returned, but with it came anger.
"I came home after selling charcoal all day at the market..."
He began his story—his mother, the retainer, the soldiers. His voice shook with emotion as he spoke, but he held nothing back. He was cross-questioned multiple times, but he answered each honestly.
When the room finally fell silent, the man in the middle leaned forward, his expression unreadable.
"Arthur Vryheid, you have two choices going forward.
First—we erase your memory of this place, and you go back to your life outside like everyone else. Or..."
He paused, pressing down on Arthur with his mana like a crushing weight.
"die."
Arthur's rage exploded. He stood, trembling but defiant.
"Who are you to decide my fate?! This is my life! And I refuse to go back to living like a coward, and I won't die either. I choose to stay. I choose to fight—for freedom, for my mother, and against this cursed Empire!"
His voice rang out, strong and blazing.
"Good. Remember those words, Arthur. That is your purpose," said the man in the middle with strange and faint contentment in his voice.
"You may go now."
[This is an original work by Kusan. All rights reserved.]