Sun & Moon: The Great Wheel Of Time

chapter 11: Information

“Wow…” In awe, the five students stared at their senior, eyes wide with admiration. The corridor still smelled faintly of ozone, and smoke curled where lightning had split stone —until the sword user broke the silence.

“Are you all right, classmates?” he asked, his voice calm but heavy. He sheathed his sword as he walked toward them, Roso following quietly at his side.

“Yes, thanks to you, Senior!” they replied almost in unison, voices filled with relief.

But the sword user didn’t smile. His gaze lingered on the lifeless bodies around them, the fallen students whose sacrifice still hung thick in the air. “Four of our classmates were killed… because of me,” he muttered bitterly. “If I hadn’t allowed myself to be distracted by that fight, this wouldn’t have happened.”

The juniors exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s not your fault, Senior,” one of them said softly. “You saved the rest of us. That’s what matters now.” The others nodded, trying to comfort him, though the sadness in his eyes didn’t fade.

Then one of the students—a boy with a broad face and steady voice—pointed toward Roso. “Senior, who is that with you?”

The sword user turned slightly. “Him? …I don’t really know,” he admitted, glancing at Roso. “But he’s the one who helped me find this place.”

Roso smiled faintly. “My name is Roso,” he said. “It so happened that I saw the terrorists chasing after you while I was wandering the corridor. I had been hiding before that, searching for another way out…” He trailed off as his gaze swept over the group. He noticed a few uncertain expressions—one of them, a stocky boy, looked at him with thinly veiled suspicion.

Roso sighed. “Though I hung my head in despair, I couldn’t bring myself to die,” he added quietly. “Even if I feel powerless, I couldn’t just stay hidden forever.”

The sword user studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Then we move together.”

And so after they all moved. And s

As they made their way through the dim corridors, the group began to relax slightly, talking among themselves as Roso led the way. Bit by bit, he learned their names and faces.

There was Famlise, an average tall thin girl with large round eyes behind her glasses—timid, but thoughtful. Hivet, round-bodied and soft-spoken, had a nervous twitch in her hands. Gregory, though trembling earlier, carried a surprisingly commanding tone when he spoke. Oscar, a cheerful and energetic boy, seemed especially friendly and shared a camaraderie with the sword user. And finally, there was Noubissi, who smiled gently and extended her hand to Roso. “Nice to meet you,” she said, her sincerity clear.

Roso shook her hand. “Likewise.”

He could tell that Famlise and Noubissi trusted him, but Hivet and Gregory’s wary glances didn’t escape his notice. Even so, they said nothing. The presence of the sword user seemed to silence any doubts—for now.

After what felt like an hour of walking, the sword user frowned. “Roso,” he said, “you mentioned a safe place earlier. Where is it?”

“Patience,” Roso replied, eyes scanning the walls. “We’re close.”

They continued for another forty-five minutes. Dust drifted down from the ceiling. The flicker of emergency lights painted their faces pale as they finally came to a stop.

“Here,” Roso said simply.

The others exchanged uncertain looks. They were standing in the middle of a corridor—featureless, with no doors, windows, or even markings on the wall. Doubt flickered across their faces. Was this boy deceiving them?

But then again, why would he? He had led them this far, saved them indirectly. There was no reason for him to betray them now.

“Trust me,” Roso said softly. His voice was calm, steady. The sword user nodded.

Roso pressed his hand against the left wall. “Everyone, hold hands,” he instructed. “The last person should hold mine.”

Confused but obedient, they formed a chain. As soon as Roso’s palm met the wall, the air around them shimmered like wave. In the blink of an eye, the passed throught the wall were Roso placed his hand but its seem as the corridor was replaced by the interior of a classroom.

The five students gasped. “What… how—?”

The classroom looked perfectly ordinary—desks, a chalkboard, even scattered books—but the corridor they’d been walking down had no such rooms anywhere nearby. There had been no doors. No windows. No seams in the wall. Yet here they were.

They hadn’t teleported. Nor had they stepped into another dimension. Roso knew—they were still within the same building.

“This classroom,” Roso explained, “is part of the academy’s advanced study hall. But it’s hidden—accessible only to students who can use magic.”

The others looked at him, astonished. Famlise opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. Her eyes darted to the wall, then to Roso. She said nothing.

Oscar broke the silence. “Wait… is that why we had to touch you before coming here?”

“Correct,” Roso said with a small smile. “The wall I touched earlier wasn’t just a wall—it was the door.”

His tone was casual, but the implications were extraordinary. No ordinary magic user could have found such a place - no student could access these magically concealed study rooms at all. Yet Roso had discovered it by accident as he happened to passed through that same corridor when he was on his way to the disciplinary hall.

“Enough distractions,” Roso said, cutting through the murmur like a blade. He folded his arms and met the group’s eyes. “I have crucial information.”

Silence settled. The five survivors leaned in.

“For the past few hours since the terrorists infiltrated,” Roso continued, “they haven’t just been killing like animals — they’ve been searching for something. You can tell by the way they’ve trashed the place. They scatter the school’s infrastructure without actually destroying it.” He let them picture the scene: overturned shelves, desks flung aside, corridors ransacked but the structural bones left intact.

“So what are they looking for?” the sword user asked, voice low.

“I don’t know,” Roso admitted. “But I’m certain they have no leads on what they’re searching for.”

Oscar frowned. “How can you be sure?”

"Because of their way of killing." Exclaimed Roso

“Their killings way?” Gregory said, slow and thoughtful now.

Roso’s gaze was steady. “Animalistic killing. It’s cathartic — they’re venting, not interrogating. If they were following clues, they’d be precise. Instead, they’re hunting down their frustration.

“And another thing,” Roso added, voice dropping, “Have you seen the teachers. The administrators. Some how they seem to have disappeared, all of a suuden.” He scanned their faces. “isn't that strange.”

The sword user’s jaw tightened as the realization hit him. “You’re right. I hadn’t noticed.”

Hivet’s eyes flicked to Roso with a new perspective. But her expression towards him was still the same

Noubissi bit her lip, analyzing Roso information. Then

“Do you think we can do something to make the teachers intervene?” she asked.

The sword user shook his head before Roso answered. “I don’t think anything we do will draw them out,” he said bluntly. He looked like a man weighing options in his head

Roso folded his hands. “If we can understand their pattern , we might figure out what they’re after.... And may be we can force the teachers to interven in one way or another. "

Oscar leaned forward. “So what’s the plan?”

After Roso outlined it simply, clearly. He went and gather the needed information and regrouped with them at the said location.

From there the then moved like a ghost slipping through halls, classrooms, and offices. Roso led, the sword user at his flank, Oscar scanning behind them, Famlise and Noubissi close, Hivet and Gregory covering flanks. As they kiiled all the teririst on their way - the weakest one off course. And always asked before the kill: “What are you after?”

The replies were always the same: silence, snarls, or the blank stare. No useful answers. Still, they kept on moving as the kiiled almost all the easy to deal terrorist one by one.

Lise rasped shoulders heaving as she hunkered to catch her breath. “I am exhausted.... How many have we already taken down. "

Oscar answered. “Seven. And still nothing.”

“Lets move with Plan B Roso?" He suggested, breathless.

“Not yet.” Roso shook his head. “There’s one more group among the weakest terrorist to deal with.

According to the information he gathered. He believed that the last group wich was the ‘vine-guard’ of the structuted groups of weakest terrorist would hold some of the information the needed.

They rested, pooling breath and strength in a darkened classroom that smelled of dust and chalk. They rested not for comfort but for strategy. And off course they needed to restored their energy in other to strike precisely when the time came.

And after the had rested they moved out, silent and resolute, toward the next cluster — toward the vine-guard whose pockets might finally give up the secret Roso group wanted.