A sharp wind cut through the black skies above Toma HQ. It wasn't just the weather—it was a shift in the atmosphere. Something ancient stirred.
Sefu gathered Korir, Novick, and Plelk beneath the crescent courtyard, bathed in eerie red lantern light. His tone was colder than ever.
"You're not troops anymore. You're candidates."
He turned.
"One mission. One trial. One reward—promotion to Sub Leader."
Their hearts skipped. This wasn't just another step. It was power, influence… identity.
"But first," Sefu's eyes burned into Korir's soul, "you need to understand what Toma truly is. Come with me."
Toma's Archive – Subterranean Vaults
Sefu guided them through corridors laced with centuries-old markings. Murals of dead warriors. Symbols of fallen societies. Names no longer spoken.
"Toma was born out of exile," Sefu began. "We were the discarded, the unwanted. So we built our own law, our own ladder. In Toma, you climb through fire, or you die where you stand."
He pointed to a great obsidian wall. On it were carved emblems—each representing a hidden society:
Toma – "The Roaring Ember"
Mombasa Mabas – "The Stone Gavel"
Obsidian Fang – "The Silent Dominion"
Vaelzahn Sect – "The Twisted Strings"
Rensari Dawn – "The Celestial Blades"
Seventh Vein – "The Blood That Binds"
"Each has its purpose," Sefu said. "But soon, lines will blur. And not all of