The next morning, the group arrived at the outpost. Bral was the first to enter Rhan's office. "So?" he asked, stepping inside. "How's the situation with the archives? Found anything?"
Captain Rhan was slumped in his chair, dark circles under his eyes and a mug of cold tea pushed to the side.
"No," he said flatly. "There's nothing. Not a single note, entry, or even a passing reference to any patrol involving thirty-five soldiers. I searched everything — not just the current logs, but older ones too. I even looked through unrelated records. Still nothing."
"You're sure?" Bral asked. "Maybe it was misfiled?"
"I'd know," Rhan said, rubbing his forehead. "No document leaves or enters this office without passing through my hands. And even if it did, it would've left a trail. Raidar's patrol doesn't exist. On paper, at least."
There was a long silence in the room, filled only by the creak of Rhan's chair as he leaned back and exhaled.
"Such a waste of time," he muttered. "And I've got stacks of real work piling up. Maintenance reports, equipment requests, troop logs… the kind of tedious nonsense that doesn't go away just because explosions are going off or officers are making up fake patrols."
He stood up slowly, stretching his back with a low grunt. "Alright. We're done with paper. We find Raidar and get answers directly. Let's move."
Without another word, they left the office and began their search.
The first stop was the apothecary's room, a tucked-away chamber behind the northern wing of the outpost. Rhan pushed the door open without knocking.
Inside, a middle-aged man with ink-stained fingers and a thick apron stood hunched over a mortar, grinding something with careful rhythm. He looked up, startled at the group's sudden entrance.
"Isn't Lieutenant Raidar here?" Rhan asked, his tone clipped.
The apothecary blinked. "Raidar? No, haven't seen him. He was supposed to bring me some orders yesterday, but… never showed. That's odd, actually. He's usually very prompt with me. If you need him, maybe the quartermaster will know."
Rhan nodded slowly. "Thank you. We'll ask him."
So they did. When they reached the supply hall, they found Duvail hunched behind his desk again, scribbling on a list of inventory tallies.
Rhan stepped forward. "Duvail. Have you seen Lieutenant Raidar?"
Duvail looked up immediately, sensing the urgency in the captain's voice.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "Actually, I meant to bring it up. He hasn't come by at all, and he didn't pass on the next set of task orders. That's not like him. If there's a patrol or training exercise, I'm supposed to be notified well in advance so I can prepare supplies. But I haven't heard anything."
"You know what happened to him?" Rhan asked.
"No clue. I was going to go looking after I finished checking our stock, because this is unusual."
Rhan muttered under his breath, "Not just unusual — this is dereliction. He's actively avoiding duties."
Duvail gave a slow nod. "That's not like him."
Rhan's jaw clenched. "We'll find him."
The group moved out again, this time toward the sleeping quarters. Raidar's bunk was empty. Neatly made, barely touched since morning. No signs of recent use. The soldiers inside looked up as Rhan and the others walked through, but no one had seen Raidar.
After that, they headed to the training yard. Nothing.
Then to the dining hall. They passed through tables and benches, stopping to ask anyone if they'd seen Raidar. The responses were all the same: "No." "Not today." "Thought he was on duty with the apothecary."
Nobody had seen him since yesterday.
By the time they regrouped at the outer walkway of the outpost, a quiet unease had settled over them. Rhan stood at the edge of the wall, his fingers tapping against the wooden railing.
"He's gone," he said finally. "Just disappeared. That's not like him. Even if he wanted to avoid something, Raidar wouldn't vanish without a word. Not unless there was something bigger at play."
Amukelo's expression darkened slightly. "Then we were right."
Pao crossed her arms. "If he's under a spell, it's possible we wouldn't even recognized him."
Rhan's face was tight. "Either way, we find him. I'll post someone at each gate. If he's still inside, he'll turn up. If he left…"
He let the words hang.
"Then we might've found the person responsible for all the incidents." He finished
The following days settled into a quiet rhythm. Rhan's soldiers, now stationed at every gate and key point around the outpost, and even patroled the town more often. But the lieutenant didn't appear. No word, no hint, nothing.
With no new clues to pursue and Rhan handling most of the military response, the group found themselves with an unusual abundance of time. Idin went back to something he hadn't touched in weeks — his sewing. He spent hours sketching, cutting, and threading with focus, reproducing the intricate robes they had seen during the night of the meteor shower.
Bral spent most of his time at the library, a pile of books stacked constantly by his side. He researched everything — old legends, rare sword enchantments, stories of relics passed through generations — anything that could hint at the strange sword Amukelo wielded. But when he wasn't buried in books, he was out training. A few soldiers had even joined him during his sparring sessions, eager to test themselves against someone clearly above average.
Amukelo and Pao, on the other hand, stuck to their routine. Every day, they returned to their quiet corner of the library.
One afternoon, they were just taking a short break from their session. Amukelo sat against the wall, eyes closed but not meditating. His breathing was normal now — not strained like on the first day. Sweat still dotted his forehead, but he looked more composed. Pao stretched her arms.
Then, footsteps echoed in the hallway, and a familiar voice followed. "You're still training?"
It was Bao.
She stepped into the room, leaning against the doorway. Her bow was strapped to her back.
Pao turned and nodded eagerly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Yup. As much as the time lets us."
Bao was silent for a second, then looked to the side with a strange mix of embarrassment and thoughtfulness. "Sis… do you think magic could help me with my bow?"
Pao blinked. "Of course," she said, standing up straight. "Mana could enhance your arrows, make them stronger or faster. You could reinforce your bowstring for more tension, or even channel spells through the arrows like those runic ones we've seen before. Why do you ask?"
Bao shifted her feet slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the request. "Well… you know. I've been thinking about it. At the level we're fighting now, my regular arrows just aren't cutting it anymore. And rune-enhanced ones are expensive. I don't want to rely on something I can't always carry with me. So I thought, maybe I could learn... magic."
Pao's eyes lit up instantly. A wide smile spread across her face, brighter than Bao had seen in days.
"Of course!" she said, her voice full of excitement. "I'd love to help you. We'll start with the basics. Right now, if you want."
Bao chuckled softly. "Thanks, sis."
They cleared some space near where Amukelo had been sitting. Bao removed her bow, set it aside, and knelt down next to Pao. Her shoulders were tense, as if she was preparing for a battle.
"Alright," Pao said gently. "Let's start small. Just follow my lead."
She explained the process, then guided Bao through a few breathing exercises.
Once Pao explained everything, Bao closed her eyes and focused, her brows furrowing as she tried to follow along.
A few minutes passed. Bao flinched slightly. Her shoulders tensed. And suddenly, her eyes snapped open.
"Damn," she whispered. "That's harder than I expected."
Pao leaned over, smiling. But she didn't say anything.
She simply raised a finger and pointed to Amukelo.
He hadn't reacted at all to the noise. His posture was steady, eyes closed, breath even. He looked almost asleep.
Bao's eyes widened slightly. She leaned closer to Pao and whispered, "How can he focus for so long?"
Pao didn't answer. She just smiled.
More time passed. Eventually, Amukelo's breath shifted. A twitch in his brow, a change in his shoulders — he was starting to slip. A moment later, he opened his eyes, calmly. No frustration. No outburst like before.
Pao glanced at both of them. "You did well," she said, nodding to Bao. Then to Amukelo. "Both of you."
She stood up and stretched her arms over her head, her fingers lacing together. "Give me a little break, and we can start again."
Bao wiped the back of her neck and let out a quiet laugh. "This is going to be harder than I thought..."
Amukelo leaned his head against the wall, his tone relaxed. "Yeah."