SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 598: The First Concord Descends

- Garrika POV -

The flying vessel carved through the blizzard as if the heavens yielded to its passage.

Waves of wind battered the hull relentlessly, yet the ship remained largely unfazed. Each time the storm intensified, silver runes ignited along its dark-gray plating, tracing intricate patterns across the metal before absorbing the onslaught. It possessed no outward elegance. That was Garrika's initial impression upon seeing it.

Absent were gilded railings, ancestral banners, or sculpted beasts meant to offer a lord a sense of importance while traversing the skies. This was a Council vessel, built for utility and reinforced for resilience—unattractive, as functional things often are.

Garrika sat with one boot planted firmly on the deck, her fingers lightly touching the straps of her gauntlets, her tail swaying slowly and deliberately behind her. She had quickly learned that Eldric noticed any sign of restlessness. His observational skills were acute, making his presence in the same vicinity both a vexation and an advantage.

Around her were assembled the inaugural members of the First Concord.

None of them resembled ceremonial soldiers; perhaps that was the intended design.

Opposite her, Ilyra von Senn cradled a lengthy mana rifle in her lap. A human with brown skin and short, dark-red hair, one eye was obscured by a thin focusing lens that pulsed with light whenever she made an adjustment. She had occupied herself for half the journey meticulously inspecting the rifle, her patience suggesting a strong desire to target something and an equal disdain for waiting for authorization.

Beside her sat Narak du Molven, a dwarf with a stout physique, thick limbs, and a short black beard adorned with copper fasteners. Mechanical augmentations encased his forearms, equipped with an array of cutters, seal-breaking devices, controlled explosives, and miniature tools Garrika couldn't identify. He had grumbled multiple times about breaking attackers' knees himself if they had tampered with the train's internal mechanisms, even before anyone else could engage them.

Near the rear, Saaren di Vhal kept a medical kit resting on his knees. He was a vampire, possessing pale skin, black hair cut to his jawline, and eyes so serenely red that the bloody future unfolding before them seemed merely like a scheduled appointment. His hands were covered by pristine white gloves. Garrika gained the impression he would find fault only if there was a shortage of clean bandages, even amidst a scene of carnage.

Meka au Rhell remained in a crouch by the hatch, eschewing a seated posture. A hawk-blooded beastkin, she had a lean build, golden eyes, and subtle, feather-like markings along her arms and neck. Every fiber of her being seemed directed towards the exit, as if the very existence of the ship was an affront, preventing her from launching herself into action.

Toval di Kest stood, a folded mana shield strapped to his back. His skin was a dark red, small horns protruded from his head, his shoulders were broad, and he possessed a quietude indicative of someone who found no need to fill the silence with unnecessary words. Since their departure, his contributions had been sparse, yet each utterance held significant weight.

Two other individuals meticulously checked their gear further back, drawing minimal attention. Garrika knew their names but hadn't yet established enough familiarity. The First Concord was still in its nascent stages. Eight individuals united under a single banner, tasked with forging a cohesive unit before the world had the chance to fully comprehend them—or potentially fear them.

And positioned before them stood Eldric au Veyr.

The Calamity Cartographer.

Garrika had encountered formidable individuals previously. Trafalgar possessed a strength so overwhelming it felt as though danger had mistakenly targeted him. Valttair du Morgain was the kind of man whose reality surpassed any embellishment that stories might offer, making the truth itself sound unbelievable.

Eldric presented a different caliber of presence.

He didn't feel like a weapon brandished in readiness. Instead, he gave the impression of a person who already understood the precise point of failure for every blade within reach.

A holographic projection hovered before him, constructed from luminous white-gray lines and suspended particles. The storm, the crippled train, compromised mana conduits, damaged external circuits, emergency containment measures, passenger compartments, and the cargo hold—all materialized in incomplete layers above the central table. Some sections were rendered with clarity. Others flickered intermittently, their instability mirroring the chaos of the disaster itself, as if its true form was still in flux.

Eldric's gaze, sharp and gray, swept across the intricate display.

"The detonation originated from the cargo section," he stated, his voice resonating through the cabin, effortlessly cutting through the external tempest. "Its objective wasn't to obliterate the train, but to compel an emergency deceleration and seal the route. Sedative gas has infiltrated numerous carriages. Fatalities among civilians are confirmed. Hostile operatives are present within. This has escalated beyond a mere robbery."

Garrika's ears flicked forward, attentive.

This was it.

Their inaugural mission of true consequence.

The train had been incapacitated amidst a desolate, snow-laden region, and the First Concord was being dispatched to intervene before the wider world could even fully grasp the unfolding crisis.

Her grip tightened on the straps of her gauntlets.

Merely two months prior, she had been seated opposite Trafalgar within his shop, confessing her intention to join the Wardens, driven by a desire to stand closer to his formidable presence. She had requested he withhold his response regarding her feelings, asking for time.

And now, here she was, aboard a Council vessel, hurtling towards a militant incursion.

She had not encountered Trafalgar since their last discussion. At times, she found herself pondering if her words had left any impression on him. Knowing his nature, he likely had considered them, yet with that infuriatingly composed demeanor of his, discerning his true feelings remained an impossible task.

She remained uncertain if he was aboard the train.

The report detailed a delegation from Velkaris Academy. This might include him, or it could simply be Selara and other students without his presence. Her tail gave a sharp flick before she imposed stillness upon it.

Eldric observed her.

"If uncertainty plagues you, then cast it aside before we make landfall," he advised. "Doubt breeds hesitation, and hesitation places your comrades in peril."

A noticeable quiet descended upon the cabin.

Garrika clenched her jaw but refrained from responding with outward anger. Perhaps a few months prior, or certainly before the war, this would have been her reaction. Now, she controlled her breathing and kept her hands firmly clasped over the straps of her gauntlets.

From across the cabin, Ilyra clicked her tongue.

"Hey, Eldric. Go easy on her. She's still quite young."

Eldric did not even turn his head. "The young perish as well."

"Indeed, and aged commanders become utterly insufferable when their monologues go uninterrupted." Ilyra leaned back, her mana rifle resting across her lap, the focusing lens over one eye emitting a faint glow. "Worry not about us, wolf girl. We've got your back."

Garrika's gaze shifted towards her.

Ilyra offered a subtle gesture with two fingers, akin to a languid salute.

Garrika slowly exhaled. Her tail found its steady rhythm.

"You won't need to cover me due to any error on my part."

"Excellent," Ilyra responded. "I prefer less strenuous work."

The vessel commenced its descent.

The raging storm obscured the windows, with snow pelting the glass in dense waves as the runes etched along the hull intensified their glow. The train materialized below them without warning, a long, dark silhouette against the stark white landscape, its emergency lights feebly piercing the tempest. A section of the cargo area remained wreathed in smoke, the damage expanding like a dark contusion across the pale metal.

While the train had not derailed, its appearance suggested significant injury.

Garrika stood.

The hatch mechanisms disengaged with a resounding thud, and an icy blast assaulted the cabin before the door fully opened.

Meka's smile surfaced for the first time. "At last."

She was the first to leap.

The hawk-blooded scout disappeared into the blizzard, her descent swift and graceful, making the falling snow seem almost stationary around her.

Ilyra moved towards the weapon rail, her rifle unfolding with a soft, metallic purr. Narak let out a curse upon witnessing the compromised cargo car. Saaren's expression remained impassive, though his eyes were already scanning for viable entry points. Toval's shield materialized behind him, radiating a deep blue luminescence.

Garrika advanced to the precipice.

The biting cold struck her face, and beneath it, the sharp tang of metal, snow, smoke, underlying fear, and the coppery scent of blood assailed her senses.

Her body reacted before her mind could fully process the environment. Ears perked. Tail remained steady. Muscles coiled and prepared.

This was not the familiar setting of the shop, nor the routine operations in Velkaris after dusk. This was the First Concord's inaugural, decisive response to the world.

Eldric positioned himself beside her, his coat billowing in the wind as faint lines of his magic traced a path downwards towards the train.

"Proceed," he commanded.

Garrika leaped.

The storm enveloped her, and with every moment that passed, the train below loomed ever closer.