Tales from the edge of reality

Dawn was taking hold of the Wright Ridge fortress, and Floppa was sound asleep in his bed. The room was dimly lit by the faint light filtering through the window. His breathing was calm, but peace was fleeting; the previous night had been exhausting. After the fiasco in Desolea and the long night following their failed attempts to find a substitute for the Pharo, the weight of it all pressed down on him, pulling him into a deep sleep. On the floor, Pope, who had decided to give Floppa his bed back, was curled up under a blanket to keep warm.

A firm knock on the door jolted him awake. The sound of knuckles rapping again, more insistent this time.

—Floppa, wake up —Arthur's voice came from outside, urgent—. Quickly, something's happening at the tower.

Floppa reluctantly opened his eyes, feeling the exhaustion in every fiber of his body. Barely two hours had passed since he'd lain down, and the weight of fatigue still anchored him to the mattress. However, the tone of Arthur's voice was enough to shake him. He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes to clear them, and got up to open the door.

—Yeah, yeah, I'm coming... —he muttered, stretching and rubbing his eyes. Grudgingly, he got up and crossed the room with heavy steps, opening the door to find Arthur waiting in the hallway.

—What's going on? —he asked, scratching his head.

—The wind feels strange, and something's approaching. Momox and Dickson are already at the tower. Move it. —Arthur didn't stop to give further explanations and headed towards the stairs.

Confused but alert, Floppa quickly shed his night robe and changed into his regular clothes, then followed Arthur, his steps echoing in the cold, narrow stone hallway. Upon reaching the tower, he found Momox and Dickson standing by the Sparrow's launch platform, tensely watching the horizon.

—What's happening? —Floppa asked, trying to read the expressions on his companions' faces.

Dickson raised his hand and pointed towards the sky, his face marked by a mix of alarm and focus.

—There. —His voice was grave—. Do you see it?

Floppa squinted, following his finger's direction. In the distance, a ship was slowly moving through the clouds.

—A ship? —Floppa said, noticing its distant lights.

But something about it didn't sit right. It was a large ship, seemingly off-course. The strangest part was that it lacked any emblem identifying it as belonging to any kingdom. Just then, a voice came from behind them.

—What's going on? —Pope asked, finishing his climb up the tower.

—There's a ship circling the ridge, flying strangely —Arthur replied, pointing the ship out to Pope.

Pope examined the ship closely. Its structure, with movable wings flapping like those of a bird, gave him what he needed to recognize it immediately.

—It's a Kingsbury ship... —Pope said, watching the vessel maneuver in the distance.

The ship made a slight movement.

—They're making an emergency landing —Dickson noted as the ship approached the open area of the ridge.

Floppa quickly pulled his cap down over his eyes, his goggles covering them, and then ran towards the Sparrow.

—Floppa! What are you doing?! —Dickson shouted.

—I'm going to guide them to a safe spot. I don't want them crashing here —Floppa said, climbing aboard the Sparrow.

—Don't go; we don't even know if it's safe to guide them —Arthur warned as Floppa boarded.

—Guide them —Pope said—. Just don't let them near the fields —he added, watching Floppa tighten his cap securely.

—I'll guide them near Star Lake, —Floppa said as he powered up the Sparrow with his foot pedal.

Dickson nodded, securing the Sparrow's platform. Once Floppa was steady between the railings, Dickson gave him one last warning.

—The winds are strong, Floppa. Hold on tight, —Dickson looked at Floppa seriously—. Try not to crash.

With a final nod, Floppa took a deep breath and braced himself. Moments later, the glider shot into the sky, the gust of wind hitting his face as he struggled to stabilize. After a few seconds of turbulence, he adjusted his flight, pressing the pedal again to accelerate. He leaned back into the Sparrow's support, heading toward the damaged ship.

As he approached, he stood up again for better control and signaled. Passing close to the ship's hull, he saw a large patch of gray shades and what looked like red lights. Getting closer, Floppa clenched his jaw—corroders. From the Corruption Forest. Giant rats, each the size of a small dog. He'd read about them in the castle's old tomes and observed them from a distance a few times. He knew they were drawn to metal and their saliva could corrode even the strongest alloys in minutes. They usually didn't attack unless provoked and always moved in groups. But he'd never seen so many attacking an airborne ship.

Startled, Floppa briefly lost control of the Sparrow. The wind dragged him alongside the ship. He quickly steadied himself, pressed the pedal again, and the glider accelerated, leaving a red and blue trail. He aligned with the ship once more.

—Idiots... —Floppa muttered—. They must have landed near the forest and killed some corroders.

Inside, soldiers shot at the giant rodents, also using swords. The noise of ricocheting bullets and the animals' screeches reached Floppa even on the Sparrow. He tried to get the soldiers' attention, accelerating closer to the ship.

—Turn around! —he shouted, waving his hand.

—Turn around! You'll crash! —he yelled desperately again.

But the chaos inside made it hard for anyone to notice him. Floppa kept waving his arms in vain.

—Turn around!! —he screamed as the ship began to fall, gaining on the Sparrow.

Then, through one of the windows, he saw something strange.

A young man, gaunt-faced and wearing a worn red cloak, stared at him from inside the ship. What struck Floppa most were the chains around the boy's wrists and the fear in his eyes. His expression was pure desperation, almost resignation, as if escape was impossible. Their eyes met, and for a moment, time froze. The boy's pain and plea formed a knot in Floppa's stomach.

He stifled a shout, unable to look away. But before he could act, an explosion rocked the side of the ship.

Floppa looked again at the window. The boy was still there, his face bathed in the orange glow of destruction. His eyes begged for help, but there was no way Floppa could reach him. Helpless, he watched the ship descend rapidly. The boy's face vanished as the ship neared the ground. Floppa barely dodged the rear fin, which almost struck the Sparrow from behind.

The ship finally crashed near one of the mountains with a deafening roar, lighting up the horizon briefly before flames consumed it. Floppa hovered in the air, the explosion's sound echoing as silence slowly returned, replaced by smoke and fire rising skyward.

—They crashed! —Arthur said, watching from the castle.

—To the cliffs, quickly! —Pope ordered—. Wake the others! Find Floppa! —he directed while they rushed from the tower toward the crash site.

Floppa landed the Sparrow near the wreck. The air was thick and acrid around the ship's ruins. He jumped off, almost stumbling when his foot caught on the support. The intense smell hit him: burning flesh, fuel, and other less recognizable odors that churned his stomach. No time for that—if anyone had survived, he had to move fast.

He ran through the smoking wreckage, dodging the larger debris and using his teleportation to cross the obstacles that the still-raging fire imposed. As he advanced, his eyes moved frantically, searching for any sign of life. Twisted metal fragments and shards of graphene littered the ground, a brutal reminder of the destruction he had witnessed from the air.

When he reached the center of the explosion, Floppa saw the boy he'd seen through the window, trapped under a graphene-plated sheet of metal. His face was contorted in pure pain, and though his eyes were closed, tears streamed from them. Floppa approached and lifted the plate with great effort. Once he raised it to a manageable height, he used his body to prop it up, forming a right angle with his back. Quickly drawing his sword, he made a complex move, slicing through the graphene chain base, which offered no resistance against Floppa's chanchopoyo-shell blade. He then grabbed the boy's arm and teleported a few steps away from the plate, which fell with a resounding crash, kicking up dust and ash.

With a couple of ragged breaths, Floppa cradled the boy in his arms and, with a flash, teleported to a clearing away from the fire. He gently laid him on the ground, trying to assess his condition. The boy appeared to be about his age. Now that he saw him clearly, the boy's robe was very dirty—light red with purple accents—and a simple crown adorned his head. Floppa barely registered the crown; he had no time to worry about that.

Floppa knelt beside him, starting to undo the buttons on the boy's tunic to check his physical condition.

"Where... where am I?" the boy asked, opening his eyes with effort. Confusion lingered in his gaze as he tiredly took in his surroundings.

"Don't talk. You're in the Wright Mountains; you're safe now," Floppa replied softly, still focused on the injury as he opened the tunic. When he finally pulled it back, what he saw chilled his heart, his face twisting in evident distress. The wound was extensive; his knowledge told him immediately how dire the situation was: at least three arteries were damaged, the heart had severe trauma, and several ribs were visibly broken. There wasn't much he could do.

Floppa pressed his lips together as he carefully closed the tunic again, trying to give the dying boy a bit of dignity.

The boy lifted his hand with difficulty, reaching for Floppa's. The chains jingled as his arm moved.

"I'm... Frisk. Frisk of Goldwater," he murmured, his voice broken and barely audible, each word laced with pain.

The name hit Floppa like a hammer. A prince...? What was he doing as a prisoner on a ship full of corroders? And a Kingsbury vessel at that. Shock ran through him, but he tried to stay steady, holding Frisk's hand as the boy struggled to continue.

"Thank you..." Frisk whispered, offering a weak, grateful smile. "Please... destroy the cargo, everything... destroy it, please."

"It's already destroyed; everything burned," Floppa replied, glancing back at the crash site.

"Thank God..." Frisk said, smiling faintly.

With obvious effort, Frisk searched a hidden pocket in his tunic and pulled out a small object that glimmered in the distant firelight. It was a crystal quartz key, translucent and polished, with delicate carvings that reflected a faint glow.

"Take... this key," he said urgently. "Don't let... anyone else have it. You must find... my twin sister and give it... to her."

Floppa nodded, though the question echoed in his mind: Who was Frisk's sister?

"Thank you," Frisk said again.

The prince of Goldwater gave Floppa one final, grateful look before his breathing slowed and he closed his eyes once more. His breaths grew shallower until they stopped completely, and a peaceful smile was the last expression on his face before his body finally went still.

In the distance, Dickson and Arthur appeared, riding Dickson's Wright hare—one of the gigantic, fluffy rabbits native to the mountain range, with long legs and ears that stood up like antennas. Its fur was white with black patches. The hare halted with a leap, and both men quickly dismounted, the sound of their footsteps on the grass mixing with the crackling flames and the scent of burning fuel. Floppa remained kneeling, still in front of Frisk's lifeless body.

As Arthur approached and recognized the boy, he tensed immediately. His eyes widened, confusion and shock crossing his face.

"Is that… the prince of Goldwater?" Arthur murmured, almost to himself, his voice wavering between disbelief and astonishment. His voice trembled slightly. "The current regent of the kingdom? What the hell is he doing here?"

Floppa nodded, still processing the situation. He swallowed hard, drew his sword, and brought it close to the graphene shackles still binding Frisk's hands. He sliced through both ends, letting the chain fall to the ground, then drove his sword into the same spot. The chains yielded to the blade, and though Frisk was now gone, he was completely free. Floppa then explained what had happened: how he had found Frisk chained in the crashed ship, rescued him, and heard his final words. Arthur and Dickson listened in silence, exchanging worried and perplexed glances.

"We don't have time to lose," Arthur said once Floppa finished. He frowned at the wreckage. "We need to inspect the entire perimeter. We can't afford to miss anything here."

Dickson turned toward the ship, his eyes scanning the debris. With a firm voice, he added, "We need to look for survivors… and make sure no Corroders are still alive. And…" He paused, looking at Floppa. "We need to check for spores."

Floppa nodded, understanding the seriousness of the matter. The spores from the Corruption Forest were extremely dangerous. If even one reached the crops or trees in the mountain range, the contamination would be unstoppable.

"If those spores touch the ground here…" Dickson continued grimly, "we'd have to burn entire areas to prevent catastrophic spread."

"I'll be there in a second." Floppa carefully lifted Frisk's body and carried it under a nearby tree. He gently laid him down in the shade, arranging his position so it seemed as though he were resting. Kneeling beside the young prince, Floppa placed his hands on his chest and gazed at his face, which looked so peaceful, almost as if he were merely asleep.

Floppa took a moment of silence, his thoughts drifting as he tried to process what had just happened. "I have to protect this key," he reminded himself, feeling the weight of the crystal key in his belt. Finally, he stood up, giving one last look before returning to the others, ready to finish the task.

Meanwhile, Pope had stepped out into the castle grounds, frowning as he tried to make sense of the situation. In the garden, he could already see movement: Master Joseph, along with Oka, Bee, Fossil, and Dream, were outside, all looking alarmed as they faced the site of the explosion. They soon began heading toward the fire. Villagers were also emerging from their homes—some from cabins, others from windmills—wearing expressions of concern as they watched the smoke rising into the sky.

In the distance, Pope saw Momox in the middle of the crowd, waving his arms to give instructions. The villagers carried what looked like water tanks on their backs, connected to high-pressure sprayers.

"They're well-organized," Pope thought, with a mix of respect and urgency. The community was responding quickly and efficiently, but the fire in the distance looked severe. He had to help, though he wasn't sure how.

He glanced again toward the disaster site and pulled out something he'd taken from Floppa's room earlier: a small spyglass Floppa had left among several scattered books. He aimed it at the distant smoke cloud, adjusting the focus until he saw the affected area more clearly. Among the wreckage and surrounding trees, he spotted a boy in a red robe leaning peacefully against a tree. Further ahead, he saw Floppa with Dickson and Arthur, searching through the debris. Lowering the spyglass, Pope's expression grew resolute as he quickly dressed.

He couldn't stand idly by. With a furrowed brow and a racing heart, he ran toward the village, determined to join the others. At the village center, he encountered frantic activity as everyone prepared for what seemed like a massive effort to contain the fire and any other emerging threats.

With one final look into the distance, Pope prepared to dive into the chaos, determined to help in any way he could.

...

Dawn brought with it an unsettling calm in the mountain range as Floppa completed the last of the transfers. He held the corrosive creature firmly, placing it into the crystal tank that Arthur had meticulously prepared. The liquid inside the tank had a slight emerald hue, a result of a special potion containing acidic mouse saliva, designed to neutralize the corrosives.

The mouse, now trapped in the tank, showed no signs of aggression. In fact, none of the ten corrosive creatures captured had resisted; they had all allowed themselves to be caught without hostility. This passivity was as strange as the remains of the ship itself, where no survivors had been found among the soldiers. The only distinctive feature on them, besides their uniforms, was a mask adhered to their heads.

While examining one of the bodies, Pope had tried to tear the mask off one of the fallen soldiers. As he pulled, the soldier's skin and part of his face came off with it, revealing a horrific scene. Pope grunted, horrified, holding the mask up to inspect it.

"What the hell…?" he muttered, the mask still in his hands.

Arthur approached quickly, and seeing the object, he froze for a moment, studying it with a mix of fascination and revulsion. The mask had teeth that extended into small points, almost as if it were alive or had been connected to the soldier in a more intimate way than it appeared. Thin appendages extended from its edges, penetrating the nasal cavity and other points of the soldier's skull.

"Floppa!" Arthur shouted as Pope laid the soldier back on the ground. "Come see this!"

Floppa came running, after securing the glass tank with the corrosives.

"What's going on?" Floppa asked.

Pope pointed to the mask. Floppa's expression became unreadable; he, too, found it undoubtedly strange.

"What the hell is that?" Floppa said, staring at the torn mask.

"I'm not sure," Pope replied, still holding the object carefully. He took a step toward them and extended the mask. "It seems like some sort of device... or something. But when I tore it off... it was like it was alive."

Arthur examined the mask closely. It was made of a material that, up close, looked like leather but had a sticky texture, almost like skin. Long, thin appendages were visible at the edges, covered in what looked like coagulated blood. Arthur's face tensed as he leaned closer, extending his hand to touch it.

"This… this isn't a mask," Arthur said cautiously. "It's some kind of… parasite. But I've never seen anything like this, not even in the Corruption Forest."

"Let me see," Floppa said, turning the object in his hands. "There are... teeth here on the edge. And these… appendages?"

Arthur frowned, drawing his sword.

"Teeth? Let me try something."

With a look of disgust, Arthur stabbed the tip of his sword into the center of the mask. To everyone's surprise, a bluish-green liquid began to seep out.

"Blood…" Floppa murmured, stepping back slightly, still holding the sword.

"And not just any blood," Arthur added.

"Hemocyanin…" both men said at the same time.

"This isn't a mask, Pope. It's… it's a creature," Floppa confirmed what they all now knew.

Arthur nodded, his face a mix of horror and fascination.

"And it looks dead… but for how long?" he commented, bringing his face closer to the edge of the "mask." "These appendages, look… they seem to be made of some kind of organic tissue, and they're… still moist." He lifted them slightly, examining them. "Also, look here, there are traces of gray matter on these appendages."

"Gray matter?" Pope asked incredulously. "So…?"

Arthur took a breath before answering, evaluating the implications.

"Yep, exactly what we're all thinking," he said, looking directly at Pope. "This… this embedded itself in their brains."

"So the soldiers were their vehicles. That explains why they all looked so erratic when I tried to stop the ship," Floppa said, lightly tapping the mask with his sword. "This is the kind of aberration you don't even find in the Corruption Forest. This seems... like a weapon."

Arthur nodded slowly, his thoughts consumed by the creature's examination.

"Exactly, Floppa. And that's the worst part. Because it means someone or something put this in them. But for what purpose?" he asked, his eyes shifting from the mask to the dead soldiers around them.

Pope looked at the mask in silence, his expression grim.

"These soldiers… probably didn't even know what they were doing," he said coldly. "That would explain why they fought so desperately against the corrosives, as if they had no other choice."

Pope stared at it for a few more seconds, incredulous, then clenched his teeth. With a flick of his hand, he used his powers to pierce a large hole through the creature.

"I'm not taking any chances with these things," he said with a note of hatred in his voice.

Floppa nodded, placed the parasite into an ice container, and secured it with a lock before sealing it tightly. Arthur then cast a spell on the box to seal it, and Floppa attached a red tag with the familiar symbol of Biological Hazards.

"First, we keep this thing locked up," he decided. "Then, we find out where it came from and whether there are more of them elsewhere."

Despite their precautions, the situation grew stranger by the moment. The only potential answers seemed to lie in the last compartment of the ship, which had survived the impact. It was an enormous crystal, golden in color, emitting natural light glimmers.

Master Joseph, accompanied by Bee and Fossil, observed the crystal with awe and some concern.

"This is... a mother crystal," he murmured, pointing at the object. "It's the second most powerful energy source in Desolea, after star crystals. And if I'm not mistaken... this one seems to be from Goldwater."

Bee, frowning, looked at the master in confusion.

"The mother crystal of Goldwater? What's it doing here?" she asked. "Shouldn't it... be secured somewhere safe?"

Master Joseph nodded, his expression serious, his low voice reflecting his discomfort.

"That's exactly what I don't understand, Bee. No nation in their right mind would just abandon their mother crystal. They're only moved or hidden under extreme circumstances... but from what?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Whatever it is, it must be serious."

In the distance, Momox and Dream coordinated with the villagers, who carried water tanks on their backs. From afar, Pope noticed the diamond-shaped symbols on the tanks, depicting a mushroom crossed by a thick line. "I need to ask Floppa what that means," he thought. It was evident the tanks didn't contain ordinary water.

The villagers meticulously scoured the fields and nearby forest, spraying every spot where spores or traces of corrupted fungi might have spread. Whenever they found a spore, they immediately shot it with a special pistol that released a burst of fungicide, ensuring no trace of the Corruption Forest remained.

By mid-morning, the task in the field was complete, and they began the somber process of burying the fallen soldiers. Floppa and the others carried Frisk's body to the mountain ridge cemetery, where King Joohn and Doctor Tina awaited to render royal honors.

The atmosphere was heavy; even the wind seemed to fall silent in respect. The boys and Master Joseph watched from a respectful distance as the coffin of the fallen prince was slowly lowered into the earth.

The ceremony ended in silence, the uncertainty and nervousness on everyone's faces palpable. There was still much work to be done. After Frisk was buried, they agreed to discuss later how to inform Goldwater of the events, considering communications with the kingdom had been lost for over a month. They also resolved to investigate the parasite masks further—a task for Floppa and Arthur—but for now, they had to focus on eradicating the spores and securing the ridge.

After a brief conversation with the King, in which Floppa expressed his sorrow, the monarch nodded, while Doctor Tina, with gentle movements, pushed the King's wheelchair away from the burial site.

Although Pope and the others had barely seen him since their arrival, they knew from Floppa that the King listened intently to the young man's daily tales of adventure. Floppa, after all, was King Joohn's protégé. Prophecy or not, the King had decided to make him a prince. For Pope, it was clear the King saw something special in Floppa—perhaps something only a wise ruler could understand.

As the hours passed and the sun climbed high, the group worked silently, alert to every corner, every shadow that might hide a spore or sign of corruption. Around two in the afternoon, Pope paused, stretching his back and looking up at the clear sky. A few meters away, Floppa was crouched, patiently searching the grass for any remaining spores.

Just then, a deafening sound shattered the calm. It was the roar of engines over the mountains. Pope squinted, trying to focus on the source of the noise. A formation of ships appeared on the horizon, led by a flagship. He narrowed his eyes, trying to recognize it. When he saw the emblem on the flagship, his expression turned alarmed: it was the symbol of Kingsbury.

"Damn... Everyone, drop what you're doing! Kingsbury ships are descending!" The others barely had time to look up from the fields; the ships were still in the sky.

There was no time to think. In an imposing display, the ships descended, destroying several windmills and even some houses in their maneuver. Nearby villagers scattered for cover as soldiers disembarked—identical to those they had buried, but this time, without masks. Immediately, Floppa noticed the flagship heading towards the castle.

"The castle," he murmured urgently, his alarmed tone drawing everyone's attention. "There's no one to defend it!"

He activated his super speed and shouted orders on the run. "Dickson, Momox, hold off the invasion! Arthur, Master Joseph, follow me!"

Pope raised his voice too, organizing the others. "Defend and make sure those soldiers don't hurt anyone!"

As Floppa approached the castle, King Joohn watched the commotion from his room window. With determination, he drew his chanchopoyo-shell sword—the same one he had obtained in his youth, just like Floppa. Doctor Tina watched him, worried.

"Your Majesty, you should hide..."

The King's voice was firm but warm. "I've fought before, Doctor. I won't flee while my people are in danger."

She smiled softly, shaking her head. "Then I'll stay with you, King Joohn."

In the distance, Floppa saw several soldiers entering the castle through one of the towers. His heart pounded as he sped up, leaving a streak in his wake. Nearing the castle's side, he heard two gunshots from the King's room. A chill ran down his spine. Swiftly, he entered the castle through a hidden passage, racing down secret corridors until he reached the room via another concealed door.

When he enters, the first thing he sees is the desolate scene: King Joohn and Doctor Tina are on the floor, both with gunshot wounds. For a moment, time seems to stand still as Floppa tries to process the scene, the soldiers watching as he stands frozen. But his shock quickly turns into a cold and lethal rage. Without thinking twice, he grabs a ferric ceramic staff that he had been working with in the field and, with swift movements, strikes several soldiers with inhuman strength, the result of the speed at which he lands the blows. One of them tries to block his attack and repels it, forcing Floppa to step back; he jumps backward, spinning in mid-air, landing on his feet almost in the same spot he entered.

Floppa growls, and before they can react, he disappears in a blur of motion. Within seconds, several soldiers fall to the floor, their necks broken.

Arthur and Master Joseph, who are approaching from another hidden hallway, are horrified when they see the scene. Floppa moves with a fury they've never seen before, his eyes filled with devastating anger. His speed becomes a blur among the dark green uniforms and weapons, leaving behind a trail of fallen and wounded soldiers. One of the men tries to raise his weapon to shoot him, but Floppa disarms him with an agile and brutal movement, before breaking his neck with a quick twist of his hand, letting the momentum of his movement do the rest of the work.

What the hell...?" Arthur murmurs, unable to recognize the young man standing before them.

At that moment, a woman enters the room. Her dark green attire, the medals on her chest, and her blue cloak indicate her rank as commander. Upon seeing the bodies on the ground and Floppa, she quickly draws her revolver and fires with precision. But Floppa, in a flash, appears at her side and strikes her ribs, sending her crashing directly into the wall. The commander hits the wall with a dull thud and falls, dazed.

More soldiers enter the room, this time all wearing grade 6 graphene armor, the same material as Pope's katana. Without wasting a second, Floppa grabs King Joohn's sword. Mercilessly, he charges at them, but Arthur

and Master Joseph intervene. Arthur casts a spell to stop him, creating a magical barrier that prevents him from advancing. Still, the momentum Floppa carries is too much, and the chanchopoyo shell sword pierces the defense, sinking into Arthur's forearm, causing him to wince in pain.

"Floppa, enough, goddamn it!" Arthur shouts, as drops of blood fall from his wound and slide down the sword.

Master Joseph, for his part, approaches with incredible speed for someone his age to the closest soldier and, with one of his shell knives, threatens his armor.

"Don't do anything stupid," he warns in a grim tone. "This blade could pierce your best graphene armor as if it were paper."

Just then, the soldiers step aside to let a young man in golden armor pass. His regal bearing is unmistakable, and Master Joseph reacts, recognizing him immediately.

"Gale...? What are you doing here?" he asks, a mix of disbelief and concern.

The young man raises his visor to indicate the fighting should cease. "It's not an attack, Master. We're here to talk."

Master Joseph shoots him an incredulous glance. "Talk? And you're killing the King like it's nothing? This is practically a declaration of war, Gale."

The prince raises the visor of his helmet, looking around the room at the bodies on the floor. "What...?" he murmurs, confused

by the scene. When his eyes fall on the corpses around him, his expression turns somber.

"I didn't order anyone to die today, Master. My soldiers were not instructed to enter like this," he replies, fixing his gaze on his commander, who, having recovered from the blow, stands aside but with her head lowered, rubbing her side. "And I'm sure she knows that."

The commander scowls, and with her revolver still in hand, she gives Floppa an angry look. He remains standing in the center of the room, as if his mind is elsewhere, the sword still embedded in his friend's forearm. Floppa watches the drops of blood fall to the floor, one by one. The commander's eyes scan the scene,stopping at Arthur's blood dripping from the sword. A flash of raw fury crosses her gaze as she points her weapon at Floppa.

"Damn you, idiot!" she hisses, her voice trembling with rage. "You're going to pay for this."

But Gale gives her a sharp look, a reprimanding tone in his voice.

"Put the weapon down, Marie," he orders softly, but firmly. "This is our responsibility. And if you can't handle it, you don't deserve your position."

Marie simply stares at Gale with a strange look as she slowly holsters her weapon.

Floppa, for his part, barely perceives the words around him. His gaze is fixed on the floor, where Arthur's blood drops mix with the dust. The reality of his actions begins to reach him; the weight of the fury he just unleashed is like a suffocating tide that consumes him from within. Everything around him seems distant, the voices muffled as if coming from a faraway place.

Gale watches Floppa, his eyes narrowed, and then shifts his gaze toward Master Joseph, his expression as cold as the first time he entered.

"We need to talk," he repeats solemnly, though his voice still carries a tone of superiority. "This incident has been a tragedy. But it won't escalate if both sides can maintain their composure."

Master Joseph looks at him distrustfully. "Composure? What's happened here is unacceptable, Gale. The king is dead. You can't just expect us to ignore that as if nothing happened."

Gale lifts his chin, showing his resolve, though the respect in his voice doesn't falter.

"Master Joseph, I'm not justifying what happened. My orders were clear, and they didn't include these deaths." He shoots another stern look at Marie, who lowers her head without responding. "There will be consequences."

Joseph holds his gaze, looking for any sign of remorse in his cold words. "I hope you understand the gravity of what you've caused, Gale. With these actions, it will be very difficult to help willingly."

Gale sighs, lowering his voice slightly, as if trying to make his point clear. "Master Joseph, if we don't resolve this here, the abyss will be much worse. And my interest remains peace, however difficult it may seem."

Just then, a heavy sensation overwhelms Floppa. His eyes unfocus, and before he can react, he loses his balance and falls to the floor, unconscious. Despite the wound in his arm, Arthur manages to catch him, preventing him from falling completely.

Gale watches Floppa's fainting in silence, while Marie, seeing the blood on Arthur's forearm, grits her teeth, restrained by Gale's order. However, the tension in the room is palpable; the tragedy of the situation weighs on everyone.

Arthur, with a somber expression, carries Floppa in his arms and slowly makes his way through the soldiers, advancing toward the exit. The crowd parts as he crosses the hall, and as he passes by Gale, Arthur glances at him sideways, his eyes filled with contained exhaustion and anger.

"You should be thankful the prince was stopped in time," Arthur says in a low voice, but with a chilling sharpness in his words. "Otherwise, maybe your whole squadron would have ended up dead."

Gale furrows his brow, his expression wavering. He looks at Floppa and then fixes his gaze on Arthur. "What do you mean by 'prince'?" he asks, his voice curiously controlled, but with a shadow of uncertainty.

Just then, Gale notices the golden sparrow embroidered on Floppa's shoulder and raises a hand in front of Arthur.

"Don't say anything. I understand," he murmurs, and then, changing his tone, he continues, "I'd like to talk to him… when he wakes up."

Arthur doesn't respond. He gives him an unreadable look and continues on his way, leaving Gale in the room amidst the chaos.

A few meters away, Joseph kneels upon finding Doctor Tina, who is still breathing, though barely. With great care, he lifts her to take her to the medical wing. But before he can leave, Gale steps in front of him with a calculating look and raises his hand.

"My doctors will take care of her," he says, and instantly, two soldiers in white armor step forward at Gale's command. "They'll ensure she gets the best treatment."

Joseph hesitates, but seeing the determination in Gale's eyes, he agrees and lets the soldiers take Tina, silently hoping that they truly treat her well. However, as he walks away, the Master casts a final warning glance at the prince.

Outside, the soldiers' advance has come to a complete halt. Silence falls like a heavy cloak, and Pope, Bee, Dream, and Fossil, alert, watch from their position in the woods. The scene gives them a bad feeling; something has happened. The soldiers have done their job, and that's never a good sign.

Bee reacts immediately, gritting her teeth as she decides. "We don't have time to waste." Quickly, she grabs Pope, Dream, and Fossil by the arms, and using Floppa's ability that she obtained from his blood vial, she teleports them directly to the king's room.

They appear in flashes of energy, and the four of them observe the scene with horror: the room is filled with fallen bodies, with traces of blood scattered on the floor. At least twenty soldiers lie there, some with wounds that could not be human: twisted necks, sunken skulls, and clean, deep cuts.

Without hesitation, Pope and the others activate their powers, getting into a defensive stance and ready to fight. Bee, horrified, takes a defensive posture, her hands glowing purple, Dream's body turning a dark green, Fossil makes his hands glow yellow, and Pope activates his powers, a halo of light appearing behind his back, his hands glowing white, while 10008 peeks out from Bee's backpack, scanning the bodies.

Master Joseph, noticing their presence, raises his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Stop!" he exclaims with a voice heavy with gravity. "There's been enough tragedy today. We don't need another."

Pope, confused, looks at him incredulously and demands answers. "What the hell happened here, Master?"

Bee nods, not taking her eyes off the bodies. "Yeah, what... what happened?"

10008, with a mechanical tone but perceptibly surprised, murmurs in a low voice, "All these bodies... they have a trace of energy surprisingly familiar..."

Master Joseph looks at Pope and then the others with sadness in his gaze. "It was Floppa," he finally says, his voice low.

Pope stands frozen, unable to process what he just heard. Dream and Fossil also look around, in disbelief.

"That can't be," murmurs Dream, shaking his head. "Floppa... he doesn't kill. Not even when we were fighting for our lives in the previous world... not even against those hostile groups."

Bee nods, her face pale as she observes the destruction around them. "Even though he's one of the best marksmen, Floppa never... God..."

Gale, observing the interaction from across the room, maintains a thoughtful expression. Though he didn't witness what Floppa did, the signs in the atmosphere don't escape him. His mind is already calculating, assessing the potential of these kids and the intensity of their powers. He says nothing, though it's clear that he now sees them as useful pieces for his own purposes. After all, his visit to the Cordillera had a clear goal.

Outside the castle, Gale's soldiers have begun to reorganize, taking up strategic positions. Near the tallest tower of the castle, a Kingsbury flag flies high, replacing the traditional sparrow banner.

One of the soldiers, with a harsh voice, yells at the villagers who are huddled together.

"Stay where you are! Don't try anything funny, or I guarantee you won't leave here alive!"

Another soldier, younger, nervously looks around while holding her weapon. "What are we going to do with them, captain? What if one of them tries to escape?"

The captain, with his severe voice, responds without hesitation. "Don't worry. If anyone tries to escape, I won't hesitate to use my weapon. None of them have permission to move without my order. Understood?"

The villagers, terrified, huddle closer to each other, some visibly trembling. An older man tries to say something, but a soldier pushes him with the barrel of his rifle.

From a distance, Dickson and Momox observe the scene, their expressions hardened. They exchange a glance, and quickly slip into the shadows, moving stealthily toward the castle to understand better what is happening.

After an hour, in Floppa's room, he begins to open his eyes, his vision blurry at first. As he focuses, he sees Pope and Arthur by his side. Arthur has his forearm bandaged, and Pope watches him with a tense and worried expression.

Floppa blinks, confused, and places a hand to his forehead as he tries to remember.

"What... what happened?" he murmurs, his voice hoarse. "I remember seeing Arthur's blood and... King Joohn, dead..."

Arthur approaches him, looking at him seriously. "You really don't remember anything?" he asks, a mixture of concern and gravity in his tone.

Floppa closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall, but all he perceives is a dense darkness in his mind. He shakes his head. "No... I don't remember. I just know that something... something overwhelmed me."

Pope and Arthur exchange a glance before Pope speaks in a soft but direct tone. "Floppa... you killed soldiers."

Floppa's gaze locks on a vacant spot in the room. Slowly, the reality of his actions begins to sink in. His face pales, and his breathing becomes heavy. "How many?" he asks quietly, his eyes dark.

Arthur responds cautiously, trying not to make him feel worse. "At least twenty, Floppa... that's what we believe."

Floppa places his hands on his face, holding back a sob that escapes his throat. After a moment of weakness, he regains his composure, lowering his hands with a stoic expression, though his eyes remain shadowed. Pope watches the tension in him, an expression he knows all too well, then speaks, clearly concerned.

"Floppa..." Pope murmurs, seeing how his friend seems to be suppressing himself almost instinctively. "You can't just... ignore this. Suppressing what you feel will only make things worse."

Just then, there's a soft but firm knock on the door. Arthur, still annoyed, opens it and finds Gale standing in the doorway. The prince watches him with the same cold, calculating expression as before.

"I've come to talk to Floppa," Gale announces, his tone firm. "You told me I could speak with him when he woke up."

Arthur hesitates, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't know if now is the right time..."

Gale raises a hand, reminding him quietly, "It's a deal, Arthur. And I'm not interested in talking in front of an audience. This conversation is between him and me."

Arthur and Pope look at each other, visible doubts on their faces, but eventually, Pope nods, recognizing that Gale won't back down without getting what he wants. Arthur, with clear displeasure, leaves with Pope, leaving Gale and Floppa alone in the room.

Floppa looks at Gale, a mix of distrust and exhaustion in his eyes. Though he doesn't know him, the prince's posture and authority give him an idea of who he is.

Gale closes the door and turns to him, crossing his arms as he watches him intensely. After a moment of silence, he speaks.

"Floppa, right?" Gale studies him carefully, his eyes cold and inquisitive. "My name is Gale. And before you say anything... let me make something clear, I'm the prince of Kingsbury, so you're facing someone of equal status, but in other matters, you are inferior."

Floppa raises an eyebrow, meaning the guy in front of him isn't even trying to negotiate on good terms. He doesn't say anything, still processing what he's just been told.

"Still confused, Floppa? I suppose that's the least you'd expect after what happened..." His tone is direct, but there's no rush in his words. Everything about him seems meticulously controlled, like a man who knows that every word could be a power play.

Floppa raises his eyes to Gale, his expression cold and reserved, almost empty. He doesn't know exactly what to expect from this boy, but his intuition tells him he's more than he seems. And it's in that first glance when both of them, almost imperceptibly, realize the intelligence of the other. Though each one's mind is different, it's a game of chess already in motion, even though neither has started it.

"Do you want to give me a moment to think? If you really want to talk, you should wait until the other party can understand what you're saying," Floppa says. He wants to get rid of him, but he can't.

Gale doesn't flinch, his face as unyielding as stone carved over centuries. His eyes, intense, scan Floppa as if seeing beyond the obvious.

"I can't do that. Not after what you did." A sigh escapes his throat, but it's controlled, almost cold. He steps closer, but not enough to intimidate. "I saw you, Floppa, and I know what you did. That wasn't human. Why do you think you're here?"

Floppa maintains his posture, and his gaze hardens. What Gale says has cold logic, but it doesn't affect him as it would others. Over his life, he's learned to distrust people like this, and even more so those who try to force others to do what they want, for better or for worse. Floppa thinks for a moment, and though this boy threatens him, he's still more powerful and could end it quickly if necessary. How bad would it be? After all, he already killed twenty people—one more wouldn't make much difference. The thought doesn't sit well with Floppa, but the circumstances demand he consider desperate measures. Floppa goes straight to the point.

"And what do you want from me, Gale? I'm not going to do what you say just because you ask."

Gale watches him for a few seconds, as if evaluating every word before speaking. His tone remains unwavering, though there's a certain weight of power, as if trying to entangle Floppa in his own web.

"No. I didn't expect you to. But you're part of something bigger, Floppa, you and this small kingdom. And I'm not going to let you keep ignoring what this means." His voice becomes firmer, almost relentless. "Your world, your people, can no longer afford to be ignorant of the rules that govern all of this. And you... you're not so different from me."

Floppa frowns, feeling the tension grow. The subtlety with which Gale handles his words doesn't escape him, but he doesn't feel intimidated. He knows he's being tested, but he doesn't plan to give in so easily.

"And what do you want me to do? Help you in your war?" His tone is ironic, but also a reflection of the distrust he feels toward Gale and his intentions.

Gale steps closer, now the distance between them is minimal, but both continue to watch each other cautiously, aware that any false move could trigger something much bigger. Gale then clicks his tongue, as if knowing he has already won over Floppa.

"I'm not asking for your help, Floppa. I'm demanding it. The treaty with Kingsbury is at stake, and you, along with your comrades, are bound to this agreement."

Floppa stops in his tracks, looking at Gale with greater attention. The threads of what's really going on begin to form in his mind.

"And if I refuse?" His voice sounds challenging, but inside, a flicker of doubt begins to grow.

Gale responds coldly, his tone low but firm, like a sentence.

"You have no choice, Floppa. The treaty is above you, above all of us. Now, if you don't respect the rules, you'll become just another one to be defeated."

The atmosphere between them thickens, every word calculated, every gesture controlled. Both are men of intelligence, and in that moment, each is measuring the other. There's no trust, only the need to understand how far the other is willing to go. Floppa knows Gale is not someone who can be challenged without consequences, but he's also aware that giving in without understanding what's at stake would be a mistake.

Gale, after a long silence, takes a step back, leaving him with the feeling that everything he's said is just the first step in a much larger game.

"You know, Gale?" Floppa begins, his voice rough but firm. "You don't scare me. I know who you are, I know what you represent, but you don't scare me." His tone is clear, confident, almost defiant. "Not even you can control everything that happens here."

Gale watches him for a moment, acknowledging that truth without being able to avoid it.

Floppa is fully aware of the power he possesses. Although Gale holds the title and commands the army of one of the most powerful kingdoms in Desolea, Floppa knows he could end him in a matter of seconds if necessary. The difference between them is that neither of them seems willing to make the first move.

For a moment, silence fills the room. The palpable tension, as if both are carefully weighing their words. But when Gale opens his mouth to continue, what he says changes everything—the boy has decided to play his last card.

"If you don't listen to what I'm proposing, Floppa," his voice hardens, "I'll start killing people. I won't wait any longer."

Floppa crosses his arms, his expression remains unreadable. "Listen, idiot, if you think you scare me with empty threats… you're wrong. Like I said, I have the power to stand up to anyone, even you. And you know what gives me more confidence? That I'm not the only one who can do it."

Gale remembers the other boys, the words Floppa said give him a piece of something he's already seen, he just needed confirmation. The other boys also have powers, and they're just as strong, if not stronger, than the boy standing in front of him.

"Well, let's give you the benefit of the doubt. I'll do what you say…" Floppa finally decides to concede. He knew that even though what he said was true, he couldn't risk letting Gale kill the people of the Mountain range. Even if he could escape, Gale had him cornered.

"Exactly what does the treaty say?" Floppa asks finally, even though he already knew the answer.

Gale watches him intently. "You must serve as a gunship pilot, assist in aerial combat, and on the ground if necessary."

The room falls silent for a moment, both boys evaluating the risks, until finally, Floppa slowly stands up. He says nothing, but his eyes show understanding.

"Alright, but I'm still behind you," Floppa says, staring fixedly at Gale. "So don't try anything stupid."

Gale smirks in satisfaction.

Fine. Just remember, you control your people too. I have to defend myself as well."

Floppa refuses to look at him anymore, exiting the room, leaving Gale alone.

. . .

In front of the castle, Gale stood atop the armored structure of a tank, gazing from above at the crowd of the Cordillera. Beside him, Marie watched the villagers with a tense posture, while further away, Pope, Bee, Dream, and Fossil remained alert. In front of the tank, the villagers' weapons were piled up like a forced offering of submission.

The square was filled with uneasy murmurs. The villagers glanced around, searching for the prince of the Cordillera, who had yet to show himself. Just then,Floppa appeared, calmly approaching from behind the tank, his shoulders straight, and his gaze fixed. He moved slowly until he positioned himself between the tank and the weapons, visible to all but at a safe distance.

Marie raised her hand and voice to silence the crowd.

"Attention!" she exclaimed, her stern tone cutting through the square. "Prince Gale wishes to address you."

Gale stepped forward, maintaining his firm and serene posture. He looked at the villagers for a moment, assessing their faces, sensing the fear and confusion in their expressions. Then, he began to speak, his voice resonating with a mixture of authority and calmness that aimed to capture their attention.

—People of the Wright mountain range—he began, pausing to make sure every word resonated deeply—. Today, I am here because I desire peace. Peace is the only way to face the dark times surrounding us.

A murmur spread among the villagers, their faces bewildered. Gale paused, watching their reactions before continuing.

—Goldwater, who many considered our ally, has begun attacking several points in Desolea. This is not only a threat to us, but to everyone. The Southern Alliance has also started its attacks. War is no longer a distant threat; it is a reality that is extending toward us—he said gravely—. It is my duty as prince to protect our people, and for that, I need the help of all of you.

The crowd fell silent, stunned by his words. No one in the Cordillera had known about Goldwater's attacks until that moment. The murmurs began again, more intense this time, as the villagers exchanged confused looks. Pope and the others looked at Floppa, trying to read some reaction on his face. However, Floppa remained serious, listening to Gale without saying a word.

At that moment, a familiar figure stepped forward through the crowd, pushing her way through with determination. It was Tina, the doctor from the Cordillera. Though visibly injured and bandaged, she had gotten up to confront Gale. She raised her voice, cutting through the air with her shout.

—You can't come here talking about peace after what you've done!—she spat at him, her voice full of anger and pain.

Marie reacted immediately, frowning at the interruption. With a cold voice, she ordered the soldiers to silence her.

—Stop that woman!

Gale raised his hand, signaling for Marie to stop.

—Let her speak, Marie—he said calmly.

Tina wasted no time in making her opinion heard.

—You talk about peace? Go ahead, do it. Treat me like you treated King Joohn—she yelled furiously, openly challenging him.

The villagers began to stir, outraged, their faces reddening with fury and their fists clenched. The tension was palpable, and some leaned forward, as if ready to rush the tank and reclaim their weapons. The commander, alarmed, turned to the soldiers and gave orders in a loud voice.

—Hold them back! Don't let them get close!

As the tension in the square reached its peak, Floppa felt a knot form in his chest. The crowd was on the brink of exploding, and Tina's voice, filled with pain and indignation, had sparked the villagers' anger. Floppa stepped forward, raising his voice in a way he rarely did, almost desperately.

—Please, listen to me!—his voice trembled slightly, a mix of resignation and distress—. You don't have to risk yourselves like this. It's not worth fighting, not for him or for his weapons. I don't want anyone else to get hurt.

Some villagers, still frowning, looked at him with a mix of respect and surprise. There was something in his tone that made them stop, as if they truly felt Floppa was putting his own life between them and the danger.

—We don't have to fight—Floppa continued, keeping his hands raised, his face contorted with concern—. There are ways to resolve this without anyone getting hurt. Please, trust me.

Gradually, the murmuring of the crowd began to fade. Some villagers whispered quietly, while others watched attentively, convinced by Floppa's sincerity.

Pope and the others watched from their position, unable to hear fully but seeing the expression on Floppa's face. It was a mix of distress and resignation they had never seen before in him. They exchanged worried glances; something serious had happened in his conversation with Gale.

When the tension in the square finally subsided a bit, Gale nodded slightly to Floppa and withdrew from the tank with Marie. In a flash of light, Floppa disappeared from the square, using his teleportation to leave without saying another word.

Pope tried to approach, but found only the emptiness in the place where his companion had been.

—We need to find him—Pope whispered to the others—. Something's very wrong.