Six years had passed since the diplomatic explosion that killed Grand Duke Barforia and started a long war between Eldia and Barforia. Blood, land, and tears had become a part of everyday life at the borders. But one name remained—a dark legend that never truly faded: Moriarty.
Even though no one had found a single trace of him all these years, the stories stayed alive. He wasn't just a man anymore.
He was a symbol of destruction... and fear.
---
That morning, with fog covering the capital, Elric sat quietly in his cold room in the East Wing. He was reading an old book about siege tactics when fast footsteps echoed through the hallway.
The door burst open. A palace officer entered without knocking.
"Prince Elric. Prepare yourself. Orders from His Majesty. You are to be sent to Fort Luthen, at the eastern border."
Elric slowly closed his book. His gaze was calm, as always. "When?"
"Tomorrow morning. Don't be late."
Elric gave a polite bow. "Understood."
As the officer left, laughter could be heard through the wall.
"Finally got rid of that cursed boy."
"Haha, maybe he'll be useful as bait. The blood of a concubine is only good for rotting on a battlefield."
It wasn't new. Hatred like this was part of his daily life.
But Elric just looked out the window, toward the darkening sky.
"It's time…"
---
That night, Elric wasn't writing a farewell letter or praying for safety.
Instead, on an old piece of paper, he wrote down information he had gathered for years:
– Corrupt commanders at Fort Luthen
– Weak points in the supply routes
– Young soldiers quitting under pressure
– Villagers complaining about theft
– Hidden Barforian spies in nearby villages
He marked each detail with red ink. Every note was like a part of a song he would one day perform.
"Luthen will be the next stage."
---
The next morning, Elric wore his military robe, the silver emblem on it too big for his thin body. At the palace gates, people stared at him with mocking eyes.
"This kid is going to the frontlines?"
"Hahaha! Maybe he'll become a hero... or a failure."
"Let's bet! How long will he last?"
"One week."
"Five days."
"Two days."
Elric got into the carriage without saying a word. In silence, he mapped the route in his head and counted how long each stop would take.
---
Fort Luthen
The commander at Luthen stood in front of Elric and stared at the 13-year-old boy.
"Our position is already bad, and now I have to babysit a brat like you," he muttered, rubbing his head.
"Listen, kid. This isn't a playground. It's a battlefield. Take care of yourself." Then he walked away without even looking back.
Elric only gave a quiet smile.
Two days later, Elric visited a bar inside the fort. The air near the border was sharper. The smoke from tents, the smell of blood, and distant explosions mixed in the wind.
The fort was large but worn down. The outer walls were full of damage from past attacks. Soldiers walked by with tired faces.
"Hey! Kid from the capital!" a half-drunk captain shouted as Elric stepped off the carriage. "Are you lost, or did they really send you here to die?"
Laughter broke out among the soldiers.
Elric only gave a slight smile. "I'm here to learn. And maybe… to make a difference."
They laughed louder, not knowing this boy would soon be the center of chaos.
That night, Elric began his plan.
---
On his first night, Elric pretended to sleep early. But once everything was quiet, he sneaked out to the communication center. He had memorized the guard schedule.
He opened the wooden panel behind the map room, where the main magic cables connected to the palace.
Using a small device, Elric started causing confusion:
– He changed the attack coordinates to empty locations
– He sent fake reports about Barforian troops moving south
– He slowed down responses by creating "signal errors"
The next morning, the commander was confused. Supplies didn't arrive. Patrols got lost.
---
That same day, Elric released two ravens. They flew across the sky as he began observing:
– Commander Halvor gambled with food supplies
– Captain Marne secretly sold weapons on the black market
– Lieutenant Daz often got drunk and beat up younger soldiers
Elric wrote everything in his small journal. He didn't attack. He waited.
---
That afternoon, Elric visited the youth barracks. He saw a boy, about 14, with a wounded leg.
"Are you hurt?" he asked softly.
"Just a little… I'll be fine," the boy replied.
Elric sat beside him and opened a small box filled with dried herbs and oil. He mixed a simple medicine and applied it gently.
"I got hurt like this once. It's not fun, right?"
The boy stared at him in surprise. "Why are you helping us?"
"Because you don't deserve to die for nothing on this battlefield."
Every day, he did the same—treating wounds, sharing food, listening.
Soon, the young soldiers began to respect him.
"If you ever need help, just ask, Prince Elric."
---
At night, using ravens and silent observation, Elric began spreading rumors:
To one soldier: "Captain Marne sold the weapon you were supposed to use."
To another: "Lieutenant Daz called you a coward. Said you hid during the last attack."
Rumors spread. Soldiers began to distrust each other. Arguments broke out. One night, a soldier even punched his superior in the kitchen.
Commander Halvor could only curse, unaware the true chaos had been planted by the boy he ignored.
---
Three days later, when everyone was asleep, Elric put on a logistics uniform and sneaked into the weapon warehouse. He used a duplicate key made from wax molds.
He loosened the wheels on a supply cart and hid sun-activated fire crystals inside.
On top of the weapons, he left a small piece of paper with a single letter:
J.M.
At dawn, when sunlight hit the cart, a powerful explosion shook the fort.
BOOM!
The weapon storage burned. Fire reached the sky. Screams and panic filled the air.
"THE WAREHOUSE IS ON FIRE!"
"SOMEONE SABOTAGED US!"
Burned bodies. Broken weapons. Supplies gone. Morale destroyed.
Commander Halvor roared in rage. "WHO DID THIS?!"
But there were no clues. Only that one piece of paper.
---
In the barracks, whispers began to spread.
"This feels like… Moriarty's style."
"Don't joke. He died six years ago."
"If he's dead, then why does this feel exactly like him?"
"Did he… come back?"
Rumors spread faster than the flames. There was no proof. But fear grew stronger with the name.
---
That evening, Elric sat alone in a trench outside the fort. The sky was red. The shadows of the fire still flickered in the distance.
He wiped the dust from his cheek and looked up.
His ravens returned and perched around him.
He took a deep breath.
"The stage is ready… Now it's time to build the organization."
He didn't need applause. He didn't want fame.
Only fear.
And in the silence of night, Elric returned to his barracks...
...ready to write the next chapter of his symphony of ruin.