*Starting Scene* 

While the moonlight beams down from the cloudless, star-filled sky onto what is the battlefield that pertains to Trace and the fellow members of the Trailblaze Organization, the First Man's greatly infuriated as he fiercely glares at the young guy. "Don't act so cocky by asking who wants to die next, asshole!" He throws his left arm to the side. "We are Class B Plus Digger Spellcasters! Before you even know it, you'll be dead from our combined stealth and strength!"

Trace stares at the male for several seconds with a stoic look until blandly uttering, "Digger...?"

The First Man pays no mind to Trace's question as he snaps his head around to view his comrades after lowering his left arm. "Scatter, everyone!"

All six fellows abruptly materialize a pair of triple-bladed, five-inch-long, metal claws on their knuckles. Soon after, they simultaneously crash both bladed limbs into the terrain beneath their feet as a small mist of dirt forms, masking their descent under the earth. 

Witnessing what transpired amidst the dirt promptly clearing, Trace gawks and scans his surroundings to verify that the sextet had indeed made their way underground via the notable holes left behind where each once stood. "Is this what you meant by Digger Spellcasters?"

The First Man replies in a stuck-up manner, who can be heard thanks to the recently-crafted holes. "Yes! Us, the Digger Spellcasters, are one of our Organizations best recognizance group! We have a high success rate of gathering information!"

The Third Man joins in with his patent, cynical voice. "Hell yeah! Fear us if you know what's good for you!"

Trace raises his right eyebrow, skepticism added to his behavior. "And what exactly should I be afraid of?" The aqua-eyed person composes himself. "If you specialize in recognizance, wouldn't that signify you all suck in fighting? After all, your Spellcaster power is to dig. Very little that'll do. It's pretty much a glorified Strength Spell when you think about it." He softly laughs. "And how are you guys among the best if I knew you were tailing me from the beginning? I simply didn't know where you were most of the time. In my opinion, you all suck in that category too."

The Second Man firmly answers while grinning in an evil way, haphazardly standing right behind Trace. "Really?! Why don't you say that straight to my face?!"

Bewilderment hurriedly etches itself on Trace prior to steering his head eastward to depict the Second Man. 

At that moment, the opponent has his right arm hoisted, his claws ready to strike, as he ultimately brings it down with a grunt. 

In reaction, Trace separates his legs sufficiently from one another to be at half the Second Man's height, hastily elevating both arms, and blocks the attack via his metal arm pads as he maintains his back to the enemy throughout. As a result, the gentleman's legs buckle under the Second Man's unexpected strength, not having much muscles on his body to suggest such.

The Second Man maliciously cackles. "Not so full of yourself now, are you?! Didn't expect this from me, eh?!"

Trace grits his teeth, his arms shaking from the Second Man's pressure until remarking in a determined tone, "Nah! This is nothing!" He quickly repels his adversary's blades via a powerful push from both appendages before leaping forward to do a front roll atop the ground to gain distance. After that, Trace rises to his feet while confronting the Second Man to administer eye contact. "You're nowhere near as strong as Dante." The individual smirks.

The Second Man hangs his right arm without an ounce of doubt showing amidst calmly speaking. "Which is why that wasn't meant to kill you. Just to set-up the kill."

That causes Trace to become surprised prior to an abrupt ascension via two other men, both being the ones who were forming the exclamation marks. Concurrently, they're ready to assault him with their bladed-claws from his left and right while soaring towards him. To counter the pair, the vested lad points his right hand at the male coming from that corresponding direction with a brief, electrical surge appearing along his, once again, united index and middle fingers. 

Following that, another electric bullet flies at the man, however, deflects the attack by swinging his right hand's metal claws to strike it against the terrain with none of his momentum lost. During that, the foe pulls his left hand behind himself in preparation of cutting through Trace.

Trace lets out an annoyed grunt, thinking, "Shit! I'm still lacking magic from Dante's seal, but at least I can fight with what I got! I only need to play it smart!" The Spellcaster's left with no choice other than to evade the incoming combination via leaping rearward to gain a ten meter gap from the duo. Unfortunately, Trace walks right into both sets of the Third Man's blades, who had unknowingly surfaced from the earth, as the weapon harshly stabs deep within the purple-haired fellow's lower back. This forces a pained yell to escape from the pad-endowed guy after temporarily tilting his head with his focus to the night sky.

The Third Man gets quite excited. "How delicious! I've been itching to hear your scream for a LONG time!" He adds pressure to Trace's posterior with his claws, ecstasy resonating inside. "Cry more for me!"

Trace peers behind himself to rest his attention upon the Third Man, issuing him a judgmental look. "Are you gay or something?"

The two men who attempted a simultaneous strike immediately tense up, having turned towards the location of where Trace is with their comrade while one whispers in distressed, "Fuck! Did he just say what I think he said?!"

The other one, poised towards the left of his companion, nods as he can't help trembling and replies via the same method. "He sure did! This is going to get ugly!"

The Third Man drops his head with anger plaguing his entire being. "You wanna' repeat that, you fucking weakling?!"

Trace grins before sharply nodding. "Sure! I will!" He then grabs both of the Third Man's wrists, so he can remove the claws from within his back. Not long after, Trace leaps onward, far enough to swing himself around so he could set his sight onto the cynical-sounding adversary while tauntingly talking. "Are you gay or something?! 'Cause it would make perfect sense after how you acted from stabbing me!" The Caucasian slants his head westward, summoning a disgusted expression. "Which is gross because I'm not gay." He diverts his head amidst folding his arms together. "Though, nobody can really blame you. I'm quite handsome, if you don't mind me pointing it out." Trace views the Third Man out of the corner of his visible eye. "You wouldn't be the first gay guy to come onto me, but again, I'm not interested."

The Third Man snaps his head to lock eyes with Trace, profoundly enraged. "Fuck you! I'm not gay, jackass!"

The First Man's voice echoes from beneath the landscape, fairly frustrated. "Idiot! He's stalling for time to regain his bearings and his magic! That seal he was put under just started to wear off! Don't let him!"

Trace chuckles, demonstrating a menacing stare. "Too late for that! Speed up and Shock Cloak: Half Variation!" Electricity expels from the gentleman's legs prior to him lunging towards his right as he almost vanishes. This leaves the four cameo-wearing men above ground speechless until Trace unexpectedly situates himself ahead of both males who formed the exclamation marks, and with arms generating sparks, hits them in the stomach via a powerful, open-hand thrust. "Double Buster Shock!"

The assaulted pair are sent flying, losing consciousness after suffering a swift and large current that effortlessly consumed their bodies. Ultimately, the two men collide with the earth stationed at opposing sides of the Second Man.

That results in the Digger Spellcaster frantically glancing at both of his fallen comrades while clearly noting they are no longer living, compelling him to redirect his concentration toward Trace with a hateful demeanor displayed. "You son of a-"

Trace cuts the guy off with his left hand lifted forth, its index finger aimed upward. "Hold that thought for one second." The aqua-eyed lad promptly commandeers himself to stand sideways, pointing the very hand he elevated towards the part of the landscape behind him. Upon doing that, Trace's index finger is hurriedly joined by his middle finger as more electricity gathers at the tip of both unlike before and callously states, "Shock Bullet." His left arm then recoils back from it releasing a mighty shot that doesn't waste time hitting the terrain.

Because of that, a vast amount of sand mixed with dirt erupts as a horrid scream reverberates. Several seconds pass until it's revealed that the Trailblaze Organization member, who performed the letter "R", was the one caught by Trace's bullet and had been electrocuted to death. 

After observing that, the Third Man shouts with contempt apparent, "What?! How did it penetrate the ground and get him?!"

Trace shifts his gaze to the Third Man, persisting to be where the purple-haired person was struck earlier, and casually lowers his left hand. "It isn't too hard. I solely need to charge up my shots a little."

The Second Man grows suspicious, cocking his left eyebrow in the process. "I had no clue you could do such a thing." He suddenly relaxes himself, curiosity included to his tone. "I'm going to bring us back to the topic my pal brought up to you before and don't try to jerk us around. Why is it that you didn't use what you've been showing us against that blonde guy?"

Trace smirks while confronting the Second Man again. "Honestly... I originally intended it for a certain someone I want to kill."

Overhearing Trace from underground, the First Man's engulfed by disbelief as he gingerly comments to himself, "He... He wants to kill Master Takeru!" He grinds his teeth while his resolve presents itself. "I won't let that happen!" The First Man rapidly ascends, ultimately locating his being roughly fifteen meters towards Trace's right, exclaiming, "You must be mentally ill to believe you can achieve that!"

Trace drives his focus to that male, an indifferent attitude invoked. "Not at all. When you really think about it, I took out five Class B Plus Spellcasters with minimal access to my magic. Mathematically, they should've added up to a Class S in terms of stacking their powers." The individual scoffs. "Of course, the Spellcaster hierarchy doesn't work like that. Just because there are eight B Plus Spellcasters fighting against one A Minus, doesn't mean they're stronger. Especially considering that I can merely take them apart, one by one." Trace navigates his attention to the two deceased men who once formed the exclamation marks. "They, on the other hand, I killed at the same time. That further cements how strong I am."

The First Man can't tolerate the way Trace is behaving anymore amidst angrily yelling, "Drop dead, you arrogant prick!" He gestures both hands to opposite sectors of his constitution. "You were at the verge of death not long ago and you announced that you're weak! You have no right to talk so big!"

Trace coldly glares at the First Man. "Do I have to repeat myself? I said that 'cause, in comparison to Dante, I am weak." The young adult deeply inhales while diverting his vision to watch the ground. "But, I'm not weaker than you guys. I don't intend to stay as I am now either." Trace glimpses at the remaining three cameo-wearing foes with tenacity glimmering in his visible eye. "I'll get stronger and avenge my brother's death!"

Seemingly out of nowhere, Dante appears south of Trace amidst resting his back against the determined character's own posterior with both bare hands placed atop his head and contains his left leg in front of its right counterpart at a somewhat horizontal angle. "Well said."

The three enemies are concurrently awestruck at Dante's unanticipated arrival.

Trace slowly peers at Dante via faintly veering his head eastward, groveling while exhibiting some aggravation, "Where did you...?" He shuts his eye. "No, better question. How long have you been here?"

Dante chuckles with his eyes also closed. "Since you asked that creepy guy if he was gay." The lad gazes at the moon. "Although, he shouldn't have gotten so defensive about it. There's nothing wrong with being that. If you like someone of the same sex, don't be ashamed."

The Third Man bites his tongue so hard that it starts to bleed as he becomes furious and utters in a growl, "I'm not FUCKING gay...!"

Dante abruptly uncrosses his leg to journey onward by a couple of steps to separate himself from Trace, keeping both hands on his head with his eyes shut again. Simultaneously, the rear of the Caucasian's brown hoodie got a vague blood stain, which fails to concern him. "Whatever you say." The blonde steers his head westward to take a gander at Trace. "So... Changed your mind yet?"

Trace lets out an exasperated sigh after deviating his head to view the Second Man. "I'm not going to dignify that with a proper response. Just leave, Dante. This has nothing to do with you."

Dante smiles, stationing himself sideways via his left foot towards Trace. "I beg to differ." He turns away from Trace, implementing a nonchalant demeanor. "I understand what you want to do though. I respect it. I'll actually be rooting for you no matter what decision you make, so..."

Trace opens his visible eye with his head tilted back to barely see Dante, intrigue brimming.

Dante finishes his sentence in a sincere tone. "Be sure not to lose ever again." He resumes walking.

Astonishment encompasses Trace until a confident conduct replaces it and focuses back onto the Second Man. "Like hell I'd lose anymore! That's not how I do things!"

Dante reaches a small formation of large rocks that conveniently aren't too far away as they're at the height of the human's waist. Following that, the hoodie-endowed person draws himself to face towards Trace's vicinity, takes both hands off his head, sits on the rock at the front and declares with his hands planted upon his left knee since he put that limb's foot against the stone's surface. "Demonstrate who you truly are to me then! Unlike in our fight, give it everything you have without worry! The seal will wear off in three, two, one...!"

Trace's left forearm briefly shines, his metal arm pad still covering it, while witnessing the removal of Dante's seal and contentedly grins prior to resetting his concentration to the trio he's combating. "Now, it's time to get real, don't you guys think?!" Sparks promptly run across his body before the young man's completely enveloped by electricity. "Here's a full on Shock Cloak!"

Fear plagues the First Man, urgently exclaiming to his two remaining allies, "Sure Kill Formation, quick!"

Both fellows firmly nod at the First Man and then re-submerge into the earth via their claws.

Depicting that, Trace mildly raises his right eyebrow with his being continually surrounded by white electricity as he mumbles, "Sure Kill Formation?" The Spellcaster suddenly hears the First man expel a battle cry while charging straight at Trace, both arms extended to their corresponding regions as the claws are aimed towards the vested character. Soon enough, the gap between them has been entirely depleted with the First Man throwing a barrage of swipes in the attempt to cut down his adversary from multiple, different trajectories.

Trace reacts calmly, blocking every strike via rapidly placing his arms wherever an attack was headed so his pads can fend off the onslaught. 

That causes sparks to fly everywhere due to the collision of metal and electricity, although the First Man isn't deterred as he arrogantly smirks amidst thinking, "That's it! Maintain your eyes on me! Even if you were to suspect me as a diversion for the others to catch you off guard, you don't know how exactly they'll attack you!" He softly cackles.

Dante gingerly plants his chin onto his left hand's palm, commenting to nobody in particular with an unimpressed voice, "This is pretty boring... I doubt I'm gonna' get to see anything more from Trace that I haven't already." The male drops his head after shutting his eyes again and depressingly sighs. "And what they're planning is really stupid too. Do they honestly believe Trace doesn't learn during fights?" He peers at the ongoing battle with a knowing grin. "He's got them totally figured out."

Then, the Third Man ascends from beneath the area right behind Trace as he wishes to stab the aqua-eyed fighter's back again, more specifically, where the cynical man had struck earlier in the same manner. 

Trace refuses to fall for that though, abruptly vanishing while leaving the enemy's claws traveling towards the First Man with no time to stop or for any evasion from his partner. In conclusion, the First Man's stomach is penetrated, immediately bending onward out of excruciating pain, as his eyes are glued to the terrain and gags with blood pouring down from the afflicted sector.

The Third Man, although unwise, hastily pulls out his claws from his comrade in a panic. "Fuck! Are you alright?!"

The First Man collapses to his knees, clenching his stomach, and loudly groans without altering his gaze from the ground. "Fucking bastard! That fucking hurt!"

Before the Third Man could get a chance to apologize, Trace appears to his right as he intently stares him down with his electrically-charged, right leg inches from the opponent's face and bluntly remarks, "You guys are morons." The lad instantly embeds a round-house kick that nearly decapitates the Third Man, flinging him backwards while inadvertently performing a 180 degree back-flip prior to crashing onto the landscape, face first. In the meantime, thanks to the momentum from his recent assault, Trace spins himself to confront the First Man, and with immense force, kicks the helpless foe in the temple via the top of his right foot.

The First Man's neck breaks upon impact while cocked eastward as a vacant look is portrayed until keeling over to his side with no life in his still open eyes. 

Afterwards, Trace puts his right foot down with the electricity that engulfed him no longer present, sustaining his attention on the deceased man, and states in an emotionless tone, "Sure Kill Formation my ass. It's the same garbage you've fought me with the whole time. Give me a break."

The Second Man hurriedly shows up from Trace's rear with an upset attitude, wielding both arms above his head as he passionately screams, "HOW ABOUT I BREAK YOU?!"

Trace doesn't seem surprised while lying his right forearm atop the shoulder it pertains to, so he can point his index and middle finger towards the Second Man with faint static radiating amidst answering in an aloof way, "As if you could in a million years." 

A moment later, another Shock Bullet is produced and swiftly passes through the Second Man's neck, instilling a stunned composition. With that, blood oozes out from the neck wound while the Trailblaze Organization personnel drops both arms and collapses to the landscape like the First Man did. 

Not long after, Trace lowers his right appendage, relaxing during that, as he veers his head eastward to make eye contact with Dante upon hearing clapping reverberating from his vicinity.

Dante persist that action while cheerfully exclaiming, "Well done!" The gentleman eventually halts his clapping and rests both hands onto the rock he's seated. "Though, I didn't get to witness much more of what you're made of." He gives off a disappointed smirk.

Trace rebuttals with no hesitation whatsoever. "How about I introduce it to you, personally? I'm warmed up and fully loaded."

Dante chuckles, slanting his head westward. "That reminds me. What inspired you to come up with the Shock Bullet? There has to be a reference to such an interesting attack."

A dull demeanor establishes itself on Trace. "I'm not in the mood to talk about that. Plus, you probably already know now because I just thought of who I got it from."

Dante sheepishly nods. "Yup. Sorry, I can't turn it off. Thanks though. It wasn't who I was expecting, considering I recently had a run-in with someone owning a gun. Your guy and mine are two totally different people, however."

With a temporary pause, compliments of him not fully comprehending Dante's explanation, Trace faces the Caucasian and brims seriousness. "Don't act like I didn't challenge you, Dante! Come on!"

Dante nervously grins after placing his right hand behind his head. "Well, you see... I kinda'... Don't want to fight you anymore."

Trace's visible eye widens, anger displayed. "But you said-"

Dante interrupts Trace, a sincere behavior emitted. "I know what I said, and fighting you again would be a lot of fun..." His conduct alters to exhibit determination. "But I want you as an ally more than anything else, Trace!"

Trace coldly glares at Dante. "How many times must I repeat myself?!"

Dante earnestly responds. "You can repeat yourself until your blue in the face and I'll still bother you about it. I'm not asking you to give up on your revenge, Trace. I'll even help you reach that point. So, stop playing hard to get and be my friend."

Trace's baffled, however, hastily regains his composure while furiously shouting with his right foot forth, "Be your friend?! If I do that, then Takeru will-"

Dante stoically cuts Trace off. "So, you'd prefer to stick by the man who killed your brother and wait for an unlikely opportunity to catch him vulnerable. That way, you can kill him cowardly instead of going at him face to face..." The individual closes his eyes and shakes his head in disapproval. "Maybe I had you pegged all wrong."

That statement from Dante hits Trace hard as he retracts his foot, clearly shocked. Several seconds later, the pad-wearing guy reflects on what he's been doing with his head partially hanging and grits his teeth out of frustration. "I'm..." Trace tightly clenches both hands without hoisting them. "I'm not a coward! I'm not becoming stronger for me to sneak attack that monster!" He snaps his head accordingly to lock eyes with Dante. "I'm going to take him down, straight up, with all my might!"

Dante gently laughs prior to wholeheartedly uttering, "I know you will."

*Scene Change*

In the safety of Velkry, the Royal Council reside within the part of their mansion where they usually sit. During this, impatience expels from Miro, shown by his rapid leg movement and tapping of his fingers on his armrest. 

Thanks to that, Slate glances westward to see his fellow member multiple times with agitation gradually arising. Ultimately, the adult can't contain himself much longer as he sternly speaks after shutting his eyes. "Would you stop that? It is getting on my nerves."

Miro sets his sights onto Slate amidst leaning forward, both hands perched upon the armrests for leverage since Adalia's silently sitting between the two men in a relax way amidst partially blotting their view of each other, while the turquoise-eyed character angrily retorts. "What could be taking them so long?! It has been over a week from when they embarked on the mission!"

Slate opens his brown eyes to observe Miro with a dull look crafted. "You referring to Ilya and Dante?"

Miro exclaims with frustration joining in, "Of course I am!" He slams his back against his throne and resumes tapping on the armrest while glaring at the floor in front of him. "I understand that it isn't an easy mission, however, not to contact us to notify their status is absurd! Ilya has more sense than that! It must be that Dante who is corrupting her!"

Adalia giggles with her eyes closed, retaining her position via her left hand's fingertips resting below her chin for faint leverage and comments in a carefree manner, "You sound like a worried father!" The brown-haired beauty peeks at Miro with a tender smirk. "You may act tough, but in reality, you're a compassionate man who just wants to protect those dear to his heart."

Miro scowls at Adalia, striving to restrain himself. "No, I am not! I'm the toughest son of a gun you will ever know!"

Slate chuckles as he crosses his arms together. "Keep telling yourself that." The fellow veers his attention to Adalia. "What do you think? Should we be concerned over the lack of contact from Ilya. She does normally let us know a few days in advance when she plans on returning. Do you think she and Dante are well?"

Adalia gleefully grins at Slate, calmly answering, "I do."

Miro questions out of suspicion amidst nearing Adalia without leaving his throne. "How are you so sure?"

Adalia shifts her gaze to Miro, and with a sweet smile, playfully winks. "Woman's intuition."

Miro rolls his eyes while shaking his head before diverting his concentration from Adalia. "Such a typical answer. It's a cop out, if anything, when someone wants a straight answer."

Adalia giggles. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I solely believe they are well. It would be a waste of time dwelling over what negative occurrences may transpire, so let us remain positive. Ilya has managed on her own for a considerable period anyway. At least this time she has a companion."

Miro grovels as he lowers his posture a little that goes along with the annoyed attitude he's now making. "Somebody we should not trust, I might add."

Adalia gives Miro a menacing stare, having drawn closer to him from her throne with both hands mounted upon the left armrest. "What was that, Miro? Sounded as if you were saying something bad about a certain someone that I am fairly fond of. Allow me to be sure. Please, repeat yourself..." An evil grin forms. "If you dare."

Miro hurriedly directs his vision to Adalia, becoming very flustered, and stutters, "I-I-I..." His resolve then comes out of nowhere as he fixes his constitution and intently ganders into Adalia's eyes. "You are aware of who I was talking about and comprehend that I am correct in us not trusting him so easily! You should not be too quick to defending him when we don't know his true intentions, Adalia!"

Adalia extends her right hand towards Miro's face without departing her other hand from the armrest while on the verge of touching his nose, maintaining her menacing behavior. "Will those be your final words?"

Miro's eyes widen out of horror, trying to retreat.

Slate watches on with a cool demeanor as he plainly states, "It was nice knowing you, Miro."

Miro snaps his head to Slate with anger appearing. "Don't simply write me off for dead! Help me!"

Slate scoffs amidst turning away from Miro, muttering, "Like I want to die yet."

Suddenly, a Caucasian man wearing a thick, white cloak and matching pants that covers most of his person, except for his decently muscular arms, enters through the now steadily shutting wall. He stands at 6'1" while possessing semi-long, blonde hair tied in dreadlocks, a pretty big build that can't be fully depicted due to his attire, white/yellow shoes and hazel green eyes. After that, the male clears his throat to promptly talk in a polite tone, demonstrating a firm conduct. "Excuse me. Apologies for my unannounced visit, my lieges." He then reveals two letters in his right hand after lifting it. "I just got these. They seemed important."

Adalia alters her focus to the blonde prior to delivering a warm smile. "Oh, it's fine, Dreka." She sits back down in a proper manner to confront the man known as Dreka and motions him onward via her right hand. "Let us see what you have there."

Dreka sharply nods while commencing to walk towards the Royal Council with his right arm down. "They're each from a different source, however, arrived together through the mail service. One sent in from Icela and the other is a report from the Class S Spellcaster, Zack."

Slate issues Dreka a surprised expression until concentrating towards the two seated beside him. "Was Zack not doing research like Cassius, but in Castelo?"

Adalia administers her vision to Slate, displaying seriousness. "Indeed, he is. Though, we haven't heard from him in a long time. I almost forgot he was even in Castelo." The dame peers at the ceiling. "Thinking about it, we should've informed Ilya to keep an eye out for Zack in case they were to bump into one another."

Miro includes himself into the conversation with a bland attitude as he fixes his stance in his throne. "I doubt it. We stationed him to investigate Bosque, one of Castelo's five countries, did we not? It is quite far off from Tundra, located on the northern region of the continent. Tundra is towards the South."

Dreka speaks with depression visible. "Perhaps, the confines of this letter, in addition to the bloodstain on it, will shed some light." The green-eyed guy halts his advancement to the Royal Council a few meters away and hands Adalia the letter.

Meanwhile, concern envelopes Adalia amidst briefly glancing between Dreka and the letters. Not long after, the woman grabs a hold of both letters via her left hand as she notices what Dreka mentioned was true because of the fact that there's a small, dried-up bloodstain on one of the letter's edges. Not wanting to waste time upon registering such an ominous sight, Adalia opens the blood-bearing letter while fear gradually resonating in her eyes during her reading of it, gripping the paper with both hands.

Slate and Miro await for Adalia to finish, although the grey-haired individual can't restrain himself while urgently inquiring, "What does it say, Adalia?!"

Adalia's hands tremble, shock abruptly arising. "I... I cannot believe... This has happened."

Slate gets to his feet, worry radiating as his arms aren't entwined anymore. "Tell us!"

Adalia responds without viewing either of her companions, dropping her head beforehand. "Zack, one of our Class S Spellcasters with the ability to create illusions unlike anyone I have ever known, has sent us his last words prior to his death."

The two councilmen simultaneously shout in bewilderment, "What?!"

Adalia intently examines the letter, ignoring her fellow members' outburst. "He dated it to be a month ago. Why did it take so long to reach us?" She eventually checks the letter's backside and is baffled by something that's written. "This right here... Is not Zack's handwriting..."

Slate takes a step towards Adalia while exhibiting some urgency and asks with a decent amount of control of his emotions, "Who wrote it then? And what is inscribed?"

Adalia mournfully answers with tears slowly generating. "No idea, but whoever it is, I can tell they have a kind heart." The female shows Slate and Miro what's written on the rear.

Slate contorts himself forth to get a good look and reads the letter out loud from his companion's hands. "I'm sorry for your loss and late dispatch of this letter. Please, don't hold anything against those who took this person away from you. They're just scared of what they don't understand and easy to be used. Signed, S.G."

Miro narrows his eyes in a scrutinizing method, cocking his head westward. "S.G.? Who could it possibly be?"

Adalia utters to Slate as she pays no mind to Miro's question. "Did you notice how the person wrote this?"

Slate scans the message, accounting there being shaky letters to the character's writing and nods. "Yes. Could he or she had been in a hurry to write it?"

Adalia closes her eyes, wholeheartedly shaking her head. "No." She reopens her eyes as a sincere personality is invoked. "This person was near tears when they wrote this. They felt so much pain and sorrow for somebody they didn't even know." Adalia gingerly laughs. "Truly, they wield a kind heart."

Slate straightens his posture, interlocking his arms again while emanating a strict behavior. "So, what should we do about this matter? Despite what that says, we cannot permit the death of one of our Class S go lightly."

Miro slams his right hand onto his armrest after balling it into a fist. "Slate's right! Clearly Bosque's inhabitants are responsible for such an outrage! We must avenge Zack!"

Adalia portrays a solemn conduct as she commences to fold up the letter, refraining from locking eyes with either men sitting around her. "Calm yourselves. It'd be best not to jump the gun and do something we'll surely regret."

Miro retorts with fury. "Regret?!"

Adalia nods, shutting her eyes, and presents a controlled demeanor. "Yes. Think carefully, you two. Who exactly would implement retribution? We only have the Four Gate Guardians in terms of Class S Spellcasters. We cannot afford sending them off, leaving Velkry practically defenseless."

Slate expels a small sigh with his head tilted rearward. "You have a point. That would merely leave us with the few Class A Plus Spellcasters we possess. Could we have them do it?"

Dreka politely raises his right hand. "Wouldn't that be a bit risky? Don't forget that Zack was a Class S and he fell. It's highly probable for those who murdered him to be equal or greater in capabilities."

Adalia diverts her gaze to Dreka. "Thank you, Dreka. Your insight brings up a valid issue." She glimpses at Miro and Slate. "With what we have, making the correct decision is vital. Again, let us not do anything we'll regret. I wish not to lose anybody else."

Both Slate and Miro sharply nod in agreement.

Then, Adalia recalls a detail while setting her vision onto the other letter that's currently in her left hand, carrying the bloodstained letter inside her right appendage's grasp. "I nearly forgot. This must be from Ilya, informing us of her and Dante's condition." The blue-eyed individual opens the letter and soon begins reading, however, not for even more than a couple of seconds thanks to immediately discovering that the message isn't from who she thought. "Goodness, me. This is actually a letter from King Trost to..." Astonishment hastily plagues her until Adalia unexpectedly yells while bringing the note up to her face, "To his daughter Yuki!"

The two councilmen exclaim again, but with more emotion this time, while closing in on Adalia from opposite sides of the woman's person, "WHAT?!"

*Scene Change*

Back at Linesville, Ilya and Yuki are standing ahead of the clinic as they await Dante's return while clueless to why their friend unexpectedly departed without telling them anything. The duo stood there for almost two hours until eventually witnessing Dante walking towards them from the other end of Linesville, Trace following not far behind. Paying minimal mind to Trace's presence, Ilya marches up to Dante while significantly infuriated. "You seriously need to quit doing that!" The teen swiftly brings her right limb towards her chest prior to gesturing it to the side. "Don't you get that you aren't alone anymore?!"

Dante casually nods. "Of course I'm not. I'd have to be extremely dense not to be aware that you two are with me when all you do is fight each other." He chuckles out of amusement after shutting his eyes and mildly slanting his head westward.

An annoyed scowl etches itself upon Ilya as she navigates her head eastward to look away from Dante and mumbles, "It's not like that's ENTIRELY true..." The young lady then glances over Dante's right shoulder to register Trace's existence before repairing her composition to confront the purple-haired fellow and talks in an earnest voice, "Back so soon, I see." Ilya peers at Dante with minor suspicion emitted. "You ran off to drag him back here, didn't you? What happened to that whole IT'S UP TO TRACE IF WE FIGHT OR NOT thing?"

Dante plants his left hand behind his head. "I wouldn't say that I DRAGGED him back. I was just really stubborn and didn't permit him any peace until he agreed to come back. That's all." The lad strives to restrain another chuckle. "And about what I said, I guess I lied."

Ilya gawks at Dante and thinks, "Isn't that sort of the same thing in a way?! And you GUESS you lied?! What's the matter with you?!"

Yuki rushes pass her two companions to get close to Trace, happily smiling. "Are you going with us, then?!"

Trace's briefly dumbfounded by Yuki's quickness prior to regaining his bearings while deviating his attention from the beauty with an uninterested demeanor established. "I'll be tagging along, but it's not as if I'm joining your little group." The aqua-eyed individual sets his sight onto Dante, who had commandeered himself around to watch the conversation, while fronting a solemn expression. "I still have my mission to accomplish. So, I'm simply going to stick by you so I can carefully discern a good opportunity to dispose of you. Nothing more."

Ilya gives Trace a skeptical glare, continuing her internal monologue, "If that was a fact, why be so upfront about it? Sure, Dante's able to read his mind anyway. Keeping it a secret would be useless, but declaring it for Yuki and myself to know is tactless. There's no sense in it at all."

Dante laughs before locking eyes with Trace. "If you say so. Either way, welcome aboard."

Trace embeds both hands onto his waist as he rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever."

Yuki veers away from the others, faintly blushing with both hands that are currently closed brought to her mouth, and thinks while staring at the ground, "This is excellent! With Trace here, Ilya might fall for him, considering they have similar personalities!" She focuses eastward, exhibiting cynicism amidst mentally adding, "At least to me that is." Yuki excitedly giggles as she's thinking, "They both act like they know everything, so it's a match made in heaven!" The blue-eyed teen gazes at the still night sky with her eyes brightly gleaming. "And with Ilya out of the way, it's impossible for Dante not to look my way! God, you are too good to me!"

Ilya takes into account Yuki's behavior, draws her head near Dante's left ear while poised beside him and whispers, "Is she scheming something, Dante?"

Dante nonchalantly nods, his vision fixed on Yuki, and answers back in the same volume as Ilya. "Yup, although it's harmless, so there's no real reason to worry."

Ilya's eyes narrow as uncertainty surfaces. "You're positive about that?"

Dante sustains his concentration towards Yuki while nodding again. "Completely... Maybe half... Okay, a quarter."

Ilya blinks out of bewilderment prior to harshly shaking her head. This concludes with the chick minimizing the gap between the two of them a tad while exclaiming in exasperation, "Huh?!"

Precisely when Dante's going to rebuttal, Trace lackadaisically intervenes after inserting his left hand into his pocket. "Where are we headed, by the way?"

Yuki turns to Trace before directing her sight to Ilya, containing both hands hanging southward. "Yeah, Miss Know-It-All. Did you find us a method in getting to Velkry faster?"

Ilya glares at Yuki with irritation showing. "How was I supposed to when you got yourself lost?! I had to waste time searching for you!"

Yuki instantly aims her right hand at Ilya and emanates a proud attitude. "It's not my fault you weren't smart enough to ask for transportation in the meantime!"

Ilya hurriedly walks up to Yuki as she releases a retort, having placed her face to be roughly an inch from the pink-haired girl. "Oh, really?! So explain to me why you couldn't do the same thing?!"

Yuki snaps back while peering at Ilya with her right arm extended to the side. "Because I was lost! I needed to prioritize on how to return to the Sheriff's department!"

Ilya scoffs amidst rolling her eyes. "How convenient that you can use that as an excuse when I couldn't! You sure are spoiled!"

Yuki stomps her left foot upon the terrain and puts her right arm down with both hands tightly clenched. "I told you to stop calling me that! I certainly am NOT spoiled!"

All Dante does is laugh at the two teenagers' bickering as Trace cautiously locates himself next to the wavy-haired gentleman's right and softly questions, "Are you totally sure about those two?"

Dante sincerely nods while depicting Trace out of the corner of his eyes and gingerly rebuttals, "I'm 100% sure when it comes to them. As I am of you."

Trace delivers a scrutinizing gaze towards Dante prior to producing a defeated sigh with his head lowered, his eye shut in the process. "Petty words like that won't sway me, Dante. I'm still going to take your life." He resets his focus on Dante with a strong resolve portrayed. "You can count on it."

Dante can't restrain his excitement and cheerfully smirks. "I'll constantly look forward to it. Though, it won't be any time soon... One day, definitely, we'll have our fun."

*Scene Cuts To Black*

To Be Continued...