In a rare valley, where vegetation grows measured and orderly, clearly the result of human intervention, rises the village of Musall. A small village whose entire existence revolves around a single task: supplying and serving the castle of the same name, residence of the Musall magical family, one of the most influential lineages in the kingdom of Mitrohr.

  That morning, village life unfolds like any other day, but the daily murmur is interrupted when an imperial caravan passes directly through the main street. Twelve guards, armed and uniformed, ride firmly toward the castle. At the front, Joel keeps a steady pace, feeling each gaze piercing his back like knives.

  The villagers look away, some quickening their pace to disappear into their houses. The golden symbol of the Myrrial Empire and its all-powerful Church flutters on the caravan's cloaks and banners, something that frightens every civilian, especially those without magical abilities.

  As they advance toward the castle, Joel feels the sound of each step of his horse resonate in his chest, like the sound of a clock, whose hands slowly approach the hour of truth.

  Under his clothes, he carries a small artifact, shaped like a polished egg, designed as a communication mechanism. Once broken, a signal will travel immediately to the leaders of the operation, and then the general attack on the region will begin. The object weighs minimally, but in his hands it feels like a piece of lead.

  As he approaches the castle, which stands to the west, on the outskirts of the village, Joel finally sees with his own eyes what until then he only knew from illustrations. The wall surrounding it, made of impeccably fitted gray stone, rises like a living fortress. Even without standing close, he can sense the aura emanating from the entire structure: an unmistakable indication that the magical defenses are active, a silent warning that nothing and no one will cross without permission.

  The path narrows until it reaches the main entrance: a gigantic archway without a door, but protected by a transparent magical barrier, as if the air itself were made of liquid crystal. Beyond the barrier, the front garden can be seen, with geometric paths and multicolored flowers.

  In front of the archway stand six guards, who, from their appearance, appear to be magi of various levels, each wearing robes embroidered with the Musall family insignia. Their postures denote calm, but the way their gazes fix on the caravan makes it clear they could attack without hesitation.

  Once the caravan is just meters from the entrance, the firm voice of the man who appears to be the leader of the guards drowns out the sound of footsteps and the squealing of the carriage wheels:

  "Stop!"

  Joel gently pulls on his horse's reins, raising a hand to signal the rest to do the same. He then dismounts with a controlled movement, making sure that his cape does not reveal the multiple weapons he carries with him.

  He walks toward what appears to be the leader of the guards, a man of imposing bearing with a perfectly trimmed beard, and performs the imperial salute: first a fist to the forehead, then to the chest. The gesture is returned with equal precision.

  "Who are you, and what is the reason for your visit?" the guard asks, his voice polite, but with an edge of distrust.

  Joel meets his gaze and answers with measured seriousness, "My name is Vincent Forth, delegate of the Eighth Imperial Regiment in the capital. These are my guards." He pauses briefly, allowing the words to sink in. "I have important correspondence for General Felix Musall, from Commander Walter."

  The guard narrowed his eyes, his gaze assessing Joel's every gesture. "General Felix is unwell," he said gravely. "He is still recovering from his injuries. I'm afraid he cannot be disturbed... Any communication must be made through magical artifacts. He does not wish to see anyone."

  Joel didn't blink. "I have a special package with me," he replied, his tone laden with a calmness that bordered on authority. "Sent by the Commander himself."

  He raised a hand, and two of his companions advanced toward the carriage, drawing back the canvas to reveal a sturdy, dark wooden trunk. The hinges, polished and gleaming, gleamed in the sunlight as if protecting something of great value. "I must deliver this to the general personally."

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  The guard stepped forward, leaning slightly over the trunk. A frown hardened his face. "We can arrange for this to be delivered to the general... though we must first check that it's safe."

  Joel let out a short, almost theatrical sigh, as if regretting what he was about to say. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. My orders are clear: the trunk is to be delivered directly to the general. If you want, you can analyze it from the outside and try to detect magic, but I assure you there's nothing magical... or dangerous.”

  The silence stretched. The guard held him with a look filled with distrust. "This complicates things."

  Joel tilted his head slightly, as if searching for an alternative, while in reality he was evaluating the quickest way to enter without arousing suspicion. "If they allow us in, we could discuss it with someone higher up. My men and I have traveled tirelessly. Some fresh water would be appreciated... for us and the horses."

  The wind stirred the flags at the gate, and for a moment no one moved. Joel knew that the guard's next response would determine whether everything would go according to plan... or if his mission would end in complete failure.

  The guard, still clearly hesitant, looked inside the castle, where the figure of a man could be seen approaching. He immediately raised his arm, drawing his attention. The newcomer nodded and quickened his pace toward the entrance arch.

  "This isn't supposed to be happening. Who the hell is that guy? And why are the guards acting so suspicious?" Joel thought.

  He immediately understood that this individual was a factor he hadn't anticipated. Judging by his demeanor and presence, he seemed like a high-ranking mage. The guard's suspicions were already a problem, but with the arrival of this new character, the situation could quickly worsen. So he decided to scrap the rest of the plan and improvise before it was too late.

  The new mage reached the arch and, with a brief gesture, gave an instruction to one of the guards inside. The guard approached a metal post, located a few meters from the entrance, and placed his palm on its surface. Instantly, the barrier blocking the passage vanished inside the arch, clearing the way for the mage to leave the castle.

  It was at the exact moment the mage set foot in the entrance arch—right where the barrier had once stood—that Joel acted. He flicked his cape and drew his Luger with a speed no eye could follow. The first shot hit the guard who had deactivated the barrier directly in one of his eyes, killing him instantly.

  What followed was a succession of shots so fast and accurate they seemed like a single burst: one pierced the eye of the mage trying to escape, the others shattered the faces of several guards standing in the line of sight.

  With the magazine empty, Joel holstered his pistol and, in one continuous motion, drew his sword. Still with that lightning speed, he severed the head of the guard at his side and launched himself at the high-level mage. The latter, staggering and with one hand covering his bloody eye, retreated toward the barrier's activation post.

  Joel launched an arc of energy with his sword, but the mage instantly blocked it with a wall of rock that emerged from the ground with a sharp gesture of his right hand. With his left hand, resting on the activation post, he reactivated the barrier the same second Joel crossed the entrance arch.

  There was no pause. Joel chained together several more energy arcs, breaking the wall piece by piece, until the last discharge revealed the wizard's distraught face: one eye completely shattered, blood covering half his face.

  Joel applied a light overload to his legs, and the distance between them vanished. The mage had barely begun to channel a new spell when Joel's sword plunged into his chest, piercing layers of protective armor and a metal breastplate hidden beneath his robes. The impact was so brutal that the air escaped from the mage in a stifled gasp.

  The man tried to raise a hand, but Joel caught it tightly. He could see terror twisting his features, and without letting go of the sword handle, he swung it sharply, placing him like a living shield right in the path of a lightning-fast fireball launched by one of the two guards still standing at the entrance. The energy of the impact was intense, destroying much of the human shield's body and setting Joel's robes ablaze.

  The wizard who had cast the fireball began to chant a longer spell, his voice ringing with urgency, as the other guard spun around and fled in terror.

  Joel, part of his cloak charred and the heat still burning through his skin, dropped the high-level mage's body—still with his sword stuck in his chest—and, in an almost instantaneous movement, drew his revolver. Two sharp, precise shots pierced the fire mage's eyes, immediately interrupting his spell, leaving him standing, lifeless, his mouth still open. Without turning, Joel then aimed at the fleeing guard and fired four quick shots directly into the back of his head. The man fell like a doll, rolling onto his stomach, groaning and uncoordinated.

  Joel stepped into the pool of blood left by his first target, yanked his sword back, and without hesitation, launched a burst of energy arcs at the fallen guard. The waves cut through the air with a metallic hiss before shattering him into several pieces.

  He took a deep breath. The smell of burning flesh and fresh blood permeated the air. His eyes scanned the exterior of the entrance archway, where his companions were finishing off the last of the guards. The cult mages' faces were filled with stupefaction: unable to comprehend how the fight had ended so quickly, so precisely… and so ruthlessly.

  Without wasting a second, Joel ran to the activation post. He tried everything to activate the mechanism again, but nothing responded. The barrier was still intact, vibrating with a dull hum that chilled his blood.

  On the other side, one of his colleagues, the magic barrier specialist, shook his head. "Only authorized mages can deactivate it. There's nothing we can do," he said in frustration.

  "I screwed up big time this time," was the first thought that came to Joel's mind as he destroyed the communication device with one of his hands, initiating the operation.

  The barrier kept him trapped inside, and the castle's alarms thundered like war drums, announcing that they had detected him. Joel took a deep breath. The conclusion was simple: he was alone. And he would have to hold out until the clan leaders forced their way in... or die trying.