Generational Divide
The man hidden beneath the robe looked utterly unlike the figure of past glory that Kelun remembered from his childhood idolization. His unkempt beard stood out starkly, making that legendary image fade into obscurity. Yet his massive build and the eyes that still gleamed with unyielding light matched perfectly the proxy Kelun had admired as a boy.
"…It's an honor to meet you."
Kelun murmured softly, and Adolf nodded calmly in response. Freigel snorted at the sight.
"An honor, huh? Never imagined I'd hear that. Sit down, anyway."
Freigel pointed to the empty chairs beside them and silently lifted his bottle. Glancing over the pair, he felt a strange twinge of surprise at how maturely they spoke—far more adult than their youthful faces suggested. To him, they still looked like kids. He'd become a proxy in his early twenties himself, but these two seemed even younger. What he envied, though, was the clarity in their eyes, shining bright and pure. Had his own ever been like that? Time inside the barriers felt brutally swift to him now, just day after day of numb survival.
"Must bring back memories, eh, Freigel? How's it feel meeting the juniors?"
Mordan twirled his mustache, watching the exchange with keen interest.
Freigel topped off his glass before addressing Adolf and Kelun as they sat.
"Juniors? I'm retired now, so… Want me to buy you a drink?"
Kelun glanced at Adolf in flustered confusion, but Adolf just smiled quietly and shook his head.
"We're on duty. And… I don't really like alcohol anyway."
"Boring guy."
Freigel snorted again.
"So, what brings Lumen Guard proxies to this quiet little city? Come to keep tabs on me?"
"Escort duty."
Adolf's reply was straightforward.
"Now that we've found you, Mr. Shtafenberk, we have to fulfill our mission properly. We judged it best to stick together."
"Escort, huh…"
Freigel chuckled hollowly. Mordan stared at Adolf's blunt, businesslike demeanor before meeting Freigel's eyes and offering a faint smile. Freigel was a hot-tempered man, and Adolf's cold professionalism clashed with him badly. Sure enough, Freigel was already eyeing him with clear displeasure. Not that he expected respect or reverence in retirement—it just irked him that Adolf treated him like nothing more than a checklist item in some procedure.
Freigel stared Adolf down piercingly.
Looks Harcen, though.
Black eyes and hair just like his own—someone he could relate to on that level alone. Yet Adolf showed no hint of emotion about it. Was he not Harcen after all? Freigel wondered if he'd misjudged.
As Adolf's gaze shifted naturally away, Freigel dropped any racial kinship nonsense and cut straight to the point in a frosty tone.
"Does Lumen Guard or the Management Bureau have any real intention of resolving this city's conflicts at the root? Or are you just here to observe and seize control when the chance arises?"
He sneered at them, adding mockingly,
"Or has the Bureau fractured so badly now that it can't even handle something like this in advance?"
Kelun hesitated to speak, but Adolf beat him to it, still smiling.
"The Management Bureau and the barriers always choose the safest option."
The response was so natural, so innocently textbook, that Freigel was left momentarily stunned. It rang too true, too perfectly scripted. He stared into Adolf's face, and suddenly it overlapped with a memory—a face he'd seen somewhere before. That benevolent hero who smiled at everyone, flawless and kind. The Grand Marshal, Mikhail Chernenko.
"…Dogshit answer."
Freigel's expression hardened slowly. Kelun sat silently, holding his breath through the exchange. Adolf's face didn't change, and Freigel downed his drink before continuing.
"With a face like that saying it… it sounds like you'll sweep away races, truths, or anyone you deem unnecessary."
Adolf paused, then spoke carefully.
"…I didn't mean to offend. That's not what I intended at all."
Freigel said nothing to Adolf's now-genuine look of regret, just lifted his glass again. The harsh burn slid down his throat. He'd seen every shade of humanity in his time and prided himself on spotting pretense. But there was none on Adolf's face—and that made it all the more absurd, especially with the Grand Marshal's image lingering, fueling his irritation.
Freigel glanced at Kelun, whose face had stiffened, and addressed him instead.
"This guy's really Harcen?"
Kelun turned in surprise.
"Ah, well… Senior, he…"
He knew about the memory loss but couldn't blurt it out without Adolf's say-so. As Kelun faltered, Freigel nodded knowingly.
"Figured someone with the same blood would show a little camaraderie in a spot like this… but you're acting like a total outsider."
Kelun forced a smile. Adolf quickly stepped in for the hesitant Kelun.
"…I'm probably not Harcen."
Freigel caught the odd nuance—maybe there was a story there—and took another swig. It didn't matter anyway. As Mordan advised, he wasn't banking on racial ties for cooperation. He didn't want help from the Bureau now that he'd left it. Seeing the Grand Marshal like that had shown him too clearly it wasn't some ideal institution. It would undermine the very reason he'd quit the military.
"Whatever. So, you two gonna drag me off somewhere?"
Freigel tilted his head toward the ceiling. Escort or not, they probably wanted to park him under Bureau watch. Did they think he'd attack people? A bitter taste rose in him. Once hailed a hero, full of pride. Now what? What was he even living for? What lingering attachment kept him going? For some reason, a flash of red hair crossed his mind.
"Unless Mr. Shtafenberk cooperates, we won't force you to come with us."
"What?"
Freigel snapped back to attention at Adolf's words.
"You sounded like a dutiful Bureau proxy a minute ago. Now this? Make no sense."
"The Bureau said escort. Escort isn't detention."
Adolf knew the precise meaning of "escort." And unless the subject faced clear threat, it couldn't involve force. He was 0th Generation. Who could threaten him? Plus, Adolf absolutely wanted to avoid any clash that might endanger Kelun. Would Bell be disappointed? The thought worried him a bit, but he recalled her saying in the pre-mission briefing that she hoped they wouldn't have to take him if possible. She worried most about conflict too.
Adolf finished his quick deliberations and stared steadily at Freigel again. Meeting those eyes, Freigel couldn't help a faint smile. He knew that look better than anyone—filled with personal conviction and belief. Like Cheisi Brown, the woman he'd loved.
It softened his wariness just a touch.
"Ha, your senior I get, maybe. You agree with him?"
Freigel smirked at Kelun.
Kelun replied instantly.
"I always back what my senior says."
That boundless trust intrigued Freigel even more. From Kelun's position, he'd only become a proxy for revenge—not loyalty to the Bureau. No way he'd defy a senior he admired. Freigel leaned toward them slightly.
"They say weirdos like you always change the world. Names?"
"Lieutenant Adolf Mandel."
"Ensign Kelun Phrase."
Freigel etched the names firmly in his mind.
"Right. Let's head out. Cut off those tails you brought first."
His tone had warmed noticeably from the start. Sensing the shift, Adolf and Kelun exchanged quick glances before nodding to him.
Kelun ventured cautiously,
"By the way, Mr. Shtafenberk… tails?"
"Your senses aren't sharp?"
Freigel looked puzzled, and Adolf answered promptly.
"We're not 0th Generation. We can't sense everything you do."
"Haha—yeah, right."
Freigel said meaningfully. Now it clicked, what Mordan had mentioned about Luminot leaking out. Proxies were weakening across generations, regressing almost. But why would the military release it publicly to create more Awakeners?
Freigel waved to Mordan amid his swirling thoughts. Mordan waved back with a hearty grin, and they stepped out of the shop.
"So, you two—how do you plan to resolve this mess?"
Freigel asked as they wove through shadowy alleys, Adolf and Kelun trailing silently. Kelun looked tense as ever, and unarmed Adolf brimmed with caution.
"What're you so worried about? Not gonna do anything to you. Starting to like you punks, actually."
Freigel shrugged off his robe, revealing his face fully. He extended a hand, flicking it casually—and blue ripples surged around his palm.
Crackle—
Sharp debris scattered in the alley condensed rapidly around his hand. Before Adolf and Kelun could react in shock, Freigel flicked his wrist upward.
With that single motion, the fragments fused into one razor-sharp shard and rocketed skyward.
Whoosh—
The air tore with a shrill whine, followed by—
Crunch!
Something plummeted from above. When Adolf and Kelun looked up, a drone spiraled down, shot out of the sky, crashing near them.
Thud—
Its sensors blinked a few times before—
Hiss—
it went dead.
"Bureau got factions now? Tailing active proxies with surveillance drones."
Adolf blinked blankly for a moment, then recalled Captain Kyle Walker's face and frowned slightly.
"So that's what you meant by tails. They must've figured we'd find you, Mr. Shtafenberk."
"Kyle Walker's doing, right?"
Kelun scowled too. Adolf nodded. Freigel noted no feigning in their reactions—just pure kids blurting out the drone operator's name like it was nothing. Absurd.
He committed "Kyle Walker" to memory and asked again.
"Alright, back to it. How exactly do you plan to resolve this situation?"