The silence that followed Shirline's declaration, "That's the game. Stay only if you want to play," was a living thing, heavy with the weight of their collective decision. One hundred and seventy-eight hearts beat as one, a frantic drum against the encroaching silence of their world. The air crackled not just with tension, but with a fragile, terrifying exhilaration. They had chosen the impossible. They had chosen Riku's game. Grim smiles, nods of grim understanding, and a palpable sense of shared, defiant purpose passed between the scouts. They were in.
Just as Shirline drew breath to give the final instructions, a voice, distinctively not human, echoed from the deepest shadows of the hall. It was smooth, resonant, and utterly alien, cutting through the human atmosphere like ice.
"Can I come out now?"
Every single head snapped towards the source of the sound. Fear, primal and instinctive, shot through the assembled scouts. Their hands twitched towards absent weapons; their bodies tensed, ready to scatter, ready to defend. This was it. The unknown threat, finally revealing itself.
Shirline, however, didn't flinch. A smile, part anticipation, part something akin to relief, touched her lips. She knew that voice. She was the only one here who did.
"Affirmed," she said, her voice steady and clear, a stark contrast to the sudden, widespread panic rippling through the room. "You may come out."
From the thickest part of the shadows, where the lamplight struggled to penetrate, an entity emerged. It wasn't large, not monstrous in size like some of the beasts they'd fought, but its presence filled the hall, displacing the very air they breathed. Its form was slender, almost elegant, cloaked in a material that seemed to absorb and distort the light around it. Its head was smooth, featureless save for a pair of large, intelligent eyes that glowed with an internal, cool light – eyes that seemed to see not just the surface, but the fear and confusion beneath. It moved with a silent, fluid grace that spoke of immense power held in check.
This was the entity. The one who had appeared to Shirline earlier, delivering Riku's message with an air of absolute authority and a chilling lack of emotion. And in that moment, seeing the raw terror on the faces of her comrades, Shirline felt a perverse surge of pride. I'm the first one he told. Riku, their secretive, impossible General, had revealed this to her first. It was a secret shared, a burden entrusted, and it solidified her bond with him in a way nothing else could.
The scouts were frozen, a tableau of stark fear. It was undeniably of another race, but which one? Its features didn't match any they had encountered or even heard whispers of. It was an unknown variable, and unknowns in this world were almost always fatal.
The entity surveyed the silent, terrified assembly, its glowing eyes seeming to take in each individual reaction. Then, it spoke again, its voice still smooth, carrying a note of detached surprise.
"I didn't think they would agree so easily," it said, its gaze returning to Shirline. "Master really is amazing."
"Master?" A scout, bravery overcoming terror, perhaps propelled by the desperate need to understand, managed to croak out the question. "Who is your master?"
A wide, triumphant grin split Shirline's face, erasing the last vestiges of fear and uncertainty. It was a challenging, almost audacious grin, aimed squarely at the stunned faces around her.
"Riku," Shirline replied, her voice ringing with fierce pride. "He is talking about General Riku."
The revelation hit the scouts like a physical blow. Riku? Their General? The last hope of humanity? Had a non-human servant? The fear of the unknown entity was momentarily eclipsed by the sheer, incomprehensible scale of Riku's actions. What impossible gambit had led to this?
A babble of questions erupted, directed at Shirline. "A servant? From which race? How did he command it? Is it dangerous? What does it want?"
Shirline held up her hands, though the proud grin remained. "Whoa, hold on!" she laughed, a short, sharp sound that sliced through the tension. "Easy there. You think I have all the answers? General Riku doesn't exactly share all the details." She paused, her expression turning serious again, though a flicker of awe remained in her eyes. "Let's just say," she said, glancing at the silent entity, "it may be the result of another impossible gambit of our General. One we're only just beginning to understand."
The entity, Igris, stepped fully into the center of the hall, his glowing eyes sweeping across them. "All of you," he said, his voice calming the immediate panic with its sheer, unwavering steadiness, "you don't have to be scared. I am your General's servant, and my name is Igris." He paused. "For some reason, my master can't make a move right now, so he sent me to deliver the letter and assist where needed."
Despite his words, the scouts remained scared. The term "servant" from a being that was so clearly not human was unsettling, but the raw power emanating from him was undeniable. And Riku 'can't make a move'? What did that mean?
Another scout, bolder than the rest, perhaps spurred by Fucho's earlier questioning, stepped forward. "How did you meet Riku?" the scout demanded, his voice shaking slightly. "And why... why are you helping us?"
Igris's glowing eyes seemed to focus on the scout, but his expression remained unreadable. "I'm not allowed to say anything about that," he stated simply, cutting off that line of inquiry with absolute finality. "When it comes to why am I helping you all," he continued, his voice softer, almost matter-of-fact, "it's because master ordered me to, and I like obeying his orders."
The simplicity of the answer was more unnerving than any complex explanation could have been. He helped because Riku ordered it. And he liked obeying Riku. It spoke of a bond utterly beyond human comprehension, a loyalty absolute and unquestioning. It painted a picture of Riku having somehow commanded the loyalty of a being from another race, a feat that seemed even more impossible than challenging the gods.
With Igris's identity and purpose (at least, the allowed portion of it) revealed, Shirline took a deep breath, ready to dive into the heart of Riku's plan. "Alright, listen up!" she called out, regaining control of the room. She began to explain the rules of the game. It wasn't a game of chance or skill against humans. It was a strategic war game against the other races, a game of manipulating cause and effect, of exploiting unseen vulnerabilities, of creating the conditions for their own victory.
She spoke of their identity as "ghosts," not because they were dead, but because their very existence was hidden, unseen by the dominant powers. Because this time, in Riku's perspective – this time, winning the Great War would be much easier.
When Riku didn't met Shuvi, he decided to start this impossible wargame by himself. He didn't know where she was or how to reach her. And so, he had made the monumental decision to start this game now, without her. The final piece of the puzzle, the strategic core of his previous victory, was missing, yet he was proceeding. It underscored the urgency, the desperation, and Riku's unwavering resolve.
Shirline was nearing the end of her briefing. "Alright then," she concluded, looking around the resolute faces of the 178. "The detailed final orders will be given by the General himself when the time is right. Assembly dismissed—"
"Wait."
Igris's voice cut her off. Shirline turned to him, surprised. "What is it, Igris?"
"Master told me," Igris said, his glowing eyes steady, "that after the briefing, I was to gather some food with few other scouts. Immediate provisions are necessary."
A wave of murmurs went through the scouts.
The practical question arose quickly. "Who will go with Igris?" a scout asked, voicing the thoughts of many. A mission with an unknown, powerful entity, into the dangerous outside world, with limited numbers? It was a risky proposition.
Discussion broke out, brief and urgent. Who had the necessary skills? Who could work alongside this... servant of Riku? The need for discretion was paramount, the need for efficiency vital.
And then, the gazes settled. On Fucho.
Fucho, who possessed a morbidly detailed understanding of the physical and psychological weaknesses of various races they'd observed. He couldn't go toe-to-toe with a Flugel or break through a Dhampir's defenses with brute force. But he knew where a seemingly solid structure built by Elves might have a subtle stress point. He knew the frequency of sound that could disorient a siren. He knew the specific behavioral tells that exposed a Werebeast's blind spot. He was their living encyclopedia of vulnerabilities, the expert in exploiting the unseen flaws in their terrifying enemies. In a game where direct confrontation was suicide and victory hinged on manipulating the board, Fucho's knowledge was invaluable.
"Fucho should go," Shirline said, voicing the consensus. "His knowledge is... specific to the needs of acquiring resources subtly."
Fucho nodded grimly, accepting the task. His unique expertise, often seen as secondary to combat prowess, was suddenly vital. He was the perfect fit for a mission that required brains over brawn, exploiting the environment and the enemy's nature rather than facing them head-on.
As for why only him? Igris provided the chillingly logical reason. "Yes," the entity confirmed. "Fewer individuals are easier for me to... attend to. Protection is more efficient with limited numbers." His words carried the unspoken weight of his power, a power he was apparently tasked with using to ensure the survival of those Riku deemed necessary.
The decision was made. Fucho would embark on the first tangible step of Riku's impossible game, guided by the enigmatic Igris, into a world that sought their extinction. The assembly hadn't been dismissed after all. They had simply been given their first, terrifying assignment.