Emisarry Of Time And Space-Chapter 181: The Chronos do not fail!

(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they mean a lot. As usual, please don’t hesitate to comment or drop a review. ENJOY)

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The thirteen of them stood in absolute awe.

Even Orion didn’t hide it.

Through the glass dome above them, they could see the world outside — bright, alive, and filled with motion. The other twelve had never seen anything like it before. But Orion had seen something close once — the military hangars he’d seen in movies or tv shows.

Still, that had been nothing compared to this.

If the previous hangar had been impressive, this one was overwhelming. It stretched endlessly. And unlike the clean, formal air of the academy’s facilities, this place carried the sharp, disciplined atmosphere of a military installation.

Dozens — no, hundreds — of massive structures filled the dome below.

Nexcrafts.

Enormous aerial machines that could ferry entire platoons or annihilate small armies.

Orion stared openly. He had thought the Nexcraft Zion had used to bring him back from the Ivory incident was huge, but the ones before him now... they were on a completely different level.

Each was sleek, angular, and terrifyingly advanced. Their surfaces pulsed with faint runes that suggested mana reactors embedded deep inside the craft’s core. He couldn’t even see the full length of a single one — they extended so far beyond the dome’s curvature that his mana sense couldn’t trace their entire structure.

And there were so many of them that he couldn’t see the end of the hangar.

All these thoughts passed through his mind in a few seconds.

Then Zion’s voice broke the silence.

"Welcome to Project Jade."

The sound echoed across the glass dome, snapping them all out of their trance. Every head turned back to him instantly.

They could tell what was coming next. The air in Zion’s tone wasn’t casual anymore. It was formal. Cold. Serious.

"I’m sure you’ve all been informed of the ritual of every A1 graduate of the Chronos Academy," Zion began, his voice steady, projecting without shouting. "You walked into the academy with a bang — and you’ll leave it the same way."

His gaze swept across them, sharp and unflinching.

"But unlike your trial, no one’s going to coddle you."

That line landed heavily.

He waited half a heartbeat.

"Let me start by saying this clearly," Zion continued, his expression calm but his tone like steel. "There is a probability you will die. Or let me rephrase that properly—if you continue, you might die."

He said it without hesitation.

His eyes didn’t soften. His stance didn’t change.

"If you’re not ready for that risk," he said, his gaze moving deliberately from one student to the next, "speak now."

No one moved.

No one flinched.

Thirteen pairs of eyes met his and held steady.

They’d trained for this. They’d lived for it.

Zion’s lips twitched faintly. "Good."

He straightened. "Let’s get on with it."

"I’m sure your supervisor told you this was a test," Zion continued. "Or perhaps a competition. That’s what they called it."

He paused, then shook his head slightly.

"But even they don’t know what you’re actually doing here. Their version of the truth was only what they were told. What you’re about to embark on..." — he let the silence draw just long enough for tension to settle — "...is a mission."

The word hit harder than any of them expected.

A mission.

Not an exercise.

Not a trial.

A mission.

"A mission with no guarantee of survival," Zion said evenly. "Succeed, and you gain your reward. Fail, and you don’t."

He looked directly at Orion when he spoke next.

"But we all know the Chronos do not—"

"Fail!" the thirteen echoed together, voices sharp, unwavering. (A/N : I cringed writing this but it had to be done.)

Zion nodded once, satisfied.

"You are the 210th graduates of the Chronos Academy," he said. "And the 200th graduates of its A1."

He paused again, letting the numbers sink in.

"You thirteen," he said firmly, "are Battalion A200. A battalion formed for a single mission."

Orion’s eyes narrowed slightly. Zion wasn’t being dramatic. That wasn’t his style. He meant it literally.

"The earlier enclosure you were placed in," Zion continued, "was short, yes — but it was enough. It provided me the data I needed to assess each of you. I’ve noted your strengths, your flaws, and everything in between."

He crossed his arms behind his back.

"I have one week," he said quietly, "to turn you from academy fledglings into proper combatants."

His eyes swept over them once more.

"Are you prepared?"

"Yes!" they replied together, the synchronization effortless.

"Good."

Zion’s expression didn’t change, but his tone softened slightly — less command, more instruction.

"As is tradition," he said, "you’ll be undertaking this mission alongside members of the outer nobles. You’ll be briefed on the operation’s exact parameters—Project Jade—in one week’s time."

He turned slightly and gestured toward one of the doors lining the platform’s edge.

"For now, get some rest."

He pointed directly at the second door on the right.

"That door leads to your assigned quarters. Tomorrow, at exactly six o’clock in the morning, I will be here."

His eyes hardened.

"And I expect to meet every one of you in the exact same spot you stand in now."

His mana surged slightly, a reminder of what disobedience meant.

"You’re dismissed."

He didn’t wait for a response.

He simply vanished—his teleport clean, efficient, leaving no spatial ripple behind.

Silence returned to the platform.

And then, collectively, they exhaled.

Several of them released tension they hadn’t even realized they were holding. Galen practically collapsed backward, lying flat on the polished metal floor with a sigh that echoed faintly under the dome.

"Stars above..." he muttered. "He’s scarier than Instructor Doran."

Seris dropped her shoulders, running a hand through her hair. "He didn’t even blink once the entire time."

"That’s Zion," Selene said softly. "I’ve heard about him. He’s one of Duke Erevan’s personal commanders."

Arlen nodded. "Makes sense now."

No one argued.

The weight of Zion’s presence lingered long after he left. It wasn’t fear exactly — just the understanding that everything had shifted.

They weren’t students anymore.

Not here.

Not under him.

Orion, however, didn’t seem disturbed.

He was quiet — but not uneasy.

While the others muttered quietly among themselves, Orion’s gaze remained fixed on the view outside the dome. The endless expanse of Nexcrafts, the military order, the palpable hum of energy that filled the air.

A smile tugged at his lips.

He could feel it — that familiar, long-missed pulse of anticipation running through his veins. The spark of challenge. The itch for movement.

’The action’s finally here,’ he thought.