A convoy of armored vehicles was stopped by a single man requesting to jump out of the vehicle second to the rear. Fixing his attire and checking his glasses, the slender mop of a border guard company Major tapped his feet on the side of the road while anxiously lighting a cigarette. As per usual, the problem was none other than the Major’s right-hand man, the typical cause of his headaches and rampant smoking.

“Why did we have to stop? Captain Cumhaill, there is nothing there.” Major James Periwinkle had already smoked a whole cigarette.

A slanting boulder of a man traced the muddy road like a bloodhound with his invading nose, strapped in a tight dark uniform and a vest that could barely wrap itself around his chest. The tall grass that the man called his hair only matched the reddish sides on his craggy face that was currently busy watching a set of tire tracks.

“What’s then with these tracks that just bust to nothing? “Captain Diarmuid Cumhaill yelled.

“It is odd, but as Major said, there’s nothing here. The nearest town is still far away.” Lieutenant Jessie commented from the back of the third car.

Four of these cars were standing in the middle of the road, quite annoyed by the sudden stop. Jessie could be best summarized as the company’s roundabout “customer service” person, a crucial and often underappreciated role. She had begun organizing the equipment in her platoon’s leading Mobile Surveillance Vehicle, or MSV, that the other members had left hanging on whatever seemed fit. The MSV was a remarkably well-made transport vehicle, able to sustain grand spells and transport up to thirty people. Though not armed with as much firepower as an assault vehicle, the MSV focused on defense and maneuverability.

“Maybe they just left the car?” She asked under her flowing greyish blue hair, similar to a calm lake.

“With all due respect, Lieutenant Ramsay, there aren’t even footprints. How does a car stop and disappear like that?” Diarmuid disagreed.

“We do not have time to play detectives! That is what the Paranormal Investigation Corps is for.” James was getting anxious.

“Um, Major. We got BMR here.” Lieutenant Angus stepped out of the car.

Background Magic Radiation or BMR is the newly discovered way to detect mana’s present and past use. BMR is excess magical energy in the air that calibrated sensors can pick up in the shortest and most simple terms. The sensors can be modified to dismiss or highlight different types of BMR, as the quality differs from source to source. Most of them are set to sense human mana by default, but officials are advised to check other readings as well.

“Wait, what do you mean?” James looked over.

Angus, the head of the electric and communication platoon, took it upon himself and saw traces of mana through his goggles, thanks to the artificial Nazar attached to the forehead of his helmet. With it, Angus was able to see a new spectrum of light.

“I can’t make it up well. Maybe an AOE spell.”

“I knew something was up,” Diarmuid felt his theory confirmed.

“We should report this to sir Lionel, and he’ll take it from there.” Jessie negotiated.

“Hmmm. You are right, Ramsay,” James agreed.

“We could try contacting a local beast hunter,” Diarmuid suggested.

“You know anyone?” James asked.

“Can’t remember. What his name was again...”

“We should first talk to the Duke.” James neglected the idea.

“Can’t we just send a message?” Angus asked.

“You know the protocol. This is a case for the Albion’s Defence corps and Magistrate. Still, first, we must formally inform the local Duke so he can assess the situation, and he will then either permit us for further investigation or solve this with the power bestowed to him.”

“But why can’t we just mail it to his secretary?”

“We tried this approach, but after a few incidents of a broken line of communication, we are now obliged to inform the Duke personally.”

"By who?" Diarmuid asked.

"Me," James answered sternly.

“I hate bureaucracy,” Angus said.

“I will act as if I did not hear that, Lieutenant.” James squinted his eyes. “Does anyone have an objection?”

“Nah.” Diarmuid cleaned his hands.

“No, sir.” Jessie smiled.

“Guess not.” Angus shrugged.

“Very well. Officer Lexion, can you drive us there?”

Resting himself against the back of the driver’s seat smoked a mellow man named Hunter Lexion. He dangled onto the steering wheel like a vine, leaving his other arm free to take out his cigarette. He pulled down the window and flicked the cigarette out right on James' shoes.

“That’s what I’m here for." He said with a smug smile.

“Alright, everyone, strap in.” James jumped to the front seat. “Frogfoot, all units, divert course. Destination, Ridredukedach. Over.” He called on the radio.

“Roger, Major. Over.” The Lieutenants answered.

“Wipe your feet before going in!” Lexion reminded whilst picking his nose.

“And Lieutenant Aberdeen, form a report about this and send it to HQ. Over.”

“Wilco. Over and out.” Angus replied on his computer. “At least we can do that.”

“Can I borrow the computer after you’re done?” Diarmuid asked from the front seat.

Angus continued to tap the keyboard like he heard nothing.

“How many times do I need to say sorry?”

“I’ll look into it after around a hundred.” He glanced at the replaced display.

The sloped car with its many wheels drove away, with other drivers glancing for what business they might have in these lands this time.

“Did you see that Opera series five Tueur? What a babe would that be.” Lexion admired a passing old dark car.

“It looked imported,” James commented.

“Well, duh. Opera is a Guerreterrarian brand.” Lexion sneered at James’ ignorance.

“Seems like a rather specific taste.”

“It’s pretty rare to see one today. The company discontinued the model decades ago.”

“Should we even bother Lord Lionel at this hour?” Lexion asked.

“No more bickering. This is important.” James said.

“As long as we can check out before midnight.” Lexion's head wiggled like a toy.

It would be a few hours before they had stopped on the road that a lone man would be yelling in the nearby woods.

“Norman! Norman?” Where is everyone?” Andras looked around.

He had roamed the forest for a while, all alone, yet found nothing. There were no tracks, road, or path, leaving him wandering in the dense fog. For hours, until the sun was already setting, he was utterly alone.

“You there, might you be lost?” A voice called.

Andras looked straight at a bear. He could only wonder how it spoke until the thing stood up, and revealed a gentleman wearing a long loose fur coat with the beast’s head as a hood. The grey-bearded man with small round glasses and a horrible scar on his cheek adorned a hunting jacket and padded pants that all seemed to have seen quite a bit of use. His way of speech had a foreign accent from everything else Andras had heard there, with a sense of modesty and formality.

“Oh, don’t be frightened. I am just out here hunting.”

“Ah, that coat got me for a second,” Andras confessed.

“You don’t seem like you’re from here.” The man's wrinkles came to be as he squinted his eyes.

“No, I got lost when looking for my friends.”

“It’s dangerous to be in these woods all alone. My house is that way. We should head there, and I could drive you to the nearest town.”

“Oh, thank you.” Andras nodded.

The man walked first, and Andras followed not too far behind. It had started to turn dark already, but the man had a lantern to light the way.

“Where is your weapon?” Andras noticed.

“Hmmm? Oh, that. I was setting some traps. I only carry a knife on these trips.”

“What do you usually catch here?” Andras looked around.

“It varies. Usually, I hunt small game, but sometimes I get paid to hunt some beasts that disturb villages. People also pay nicely for hides of exotic animals.”

“What about the one you’re wearing?”

“Oh, this one surprised me during my younger days. Got me this scar.” The man touched his face.

“Isn’t it dangerous to hunt alone?”

“maybe, but this old fool works alone.” The man smiled.

“Are you from here?” Andras couldn't help but ask.

“I came here as a refugee during the Guerterre civil war. These woods welcomed me here, so I stayed.”

“Don’t you miss your family?”

The man took a pause.

“Non, they died fighting the wrong side.”

After some more walking, the man stopped. “We’re here.”

A small cabin in an opening without any lights revealed itself. Some firewood was chopped and put into piles, and an outhouse, an old black car, and a small shack without windows stood next to the main cabin. The man headed inside and switched on the lights. There was not much, a stove, a bed, a small fireplace, a table, and two chairs. Decorations were minimal, with no pictures, mainly some hides and headpieces, and only one picture of the man and a young girl. Inside it smelled old and dusty, with a slight scent of cooked meat, but Andras wasn’t sure what kind.

After hanging his hide hood, the man sat on one of the benches around the table while Andras looked around.

“This is where you live?”

“During hunting season. I got a nice house waiting for me in Gamarad, but this is it for weeks or a few months at a time.”

“I see.”

“You must have been freezing in those clothes. I’ve got some Bors Dew tea. It should still be warm.” The man opened his thermos and offered a cup.

“Thank you.” Andras sat down.

“Tell me, what is your name?”

“It’s Andras,” Andras answered after taking a sip.

“Andras, what an interesting name.”

“I didn’t catch your name either,” Andras said.

“Oh, excuse my rudeness. Jacque, Jacque Gessler. People call me Jack.”

“Do you live alone, Jack?” Andras looked at the photo.

“I only have my daughter. After her mother died, we moved from here, and I’ve been working hard to keep her living in Gamarad.” Jack stared emptily at the table.

“Must be tough.”

“I keep going for her sake. She has been having trouble landing a job, so I must hunt.”

Jack took a long pause before lifting his eyes. “Do you have family, Andras?”

“I... don’t know,” Andras fret.

“Maybe not knowing who they are is better.”

Andras tried to fill the void of silence accompanied only by the clock’s ticking on the wall by taking sips of his drink.

“This tea tastes weird.” Andras stopped drinking.

“Well, it has been with me for the day.” Jack brushed it off with his coughy laughter.

“I don’t see any guns here. What do you use for hunting?”

“They are in the car. You wouldn’t have them scattered all over the place, would you?” Jack scoffed at the thought.

“Makes sense.” Andras didn't really know if it did.

“You should see how much room there is in the trunk. I once fitted a whole spotted deer there.”

After half a mug, Andras felt a bit off. Instead of cheering him up, the tea made him sleepy.

“What...” Andras lost balance and fell to the floor.

He couldn’t feel his face or limbs; the only thing he saw was Jack standing up from his chair and walking calmly over to him.

“Jack, something’s wrong...Jack?” Andras couldn’t stand up.

“I am sorry, mon grand ami, but you could not have found a worse person to meet.”

The previously humble yet eccentric older man was suddenly frightening, like staring right into the eyes of a tiger.

“You see, I took part in a certain contest a while ago. Too bad it was suspended before I could get my hands on the prize. I was hoping to use that money to give Annabelle a better home.”

Andras lost feeling in his limbs and could hardly talk. He had never felt as ill as he was now.

“But to meet you here again. It is never a mere coincidence. Fate always has a meaning, and I have a good idea what this means.”

“Why are you doing this?” Andras asked.

“This is nothing personal. It is either you or my daughter. Perhaps in another life, we would still be drinking there. Too bad you had to ruin that competition.”

Andras was getting angry and decided he needed to do something, so he tried activating his magic. Jack could not let that happen.

“You still have some strength in you. That won't do. Wouldn’t want this forest to burn down as well.” Jack put a metal collar with some weird gems embedded in it on Andras.

After putting the collar on, Andras felt an unusual feeling. He could feel his magic, but it wouldn’t concentrate, no matter how hard he tried. With the drug kicking in, Andras could not hold his eyes open and finally fell into a deep sleep.

Jack looked at the unconscious body with no more remorse than captured prey.

“This is a good day for the Jackal.” Jack began dragging Andras.

Far away elsewhere, Orel and Slacume carefully stepped down the slippy mud into the echoing cavern. The darkness inside was blinding; only a circular spec of light illuminated a small part of the floor from where they came from.

“Isao!” Orel tied to yell.

“Hush!” Slacume covered his mouth.

The fainted voice still echoed far back to the cave.

Slacume whispered. “What are you doing? Do you want to alert all of the boggarts?”

“Sorry.”

"Just stay quiet."

“It’s really dark in here.” Orel couldn't see a thing.

Slacume took out his pendant and whispered a prayer. “O’ spirits, grant me light in this darkness.” Yet, nothing happened.

“What? That’s odd.” Slacume said.

“What?"

“They usually answer me. Maybe they are scared of something.”

“I can use my phone flashlight.” Orel realized.

Though it did grant them vision, it was not too helpful. The light quickly would not light anything too far away. If anything, it made them more visible than anything lurking in the shadows.

“Do you think Norman would take me as his student?” Slacume asked.

“Why do you ask that now? Well, I wouldn’t count on it.”

“I just thought that he might accept me if you are his student.”

“He doesn’t work that way.” Orel chuckled.

The cave was surprisingly large. The ground was already hard bedrock, and the high ceiling was full of pointy rocks like icicles. The dripping water echoed wildly while a wind from the entrance howled like a cold breath against their backs. Walking only a few steps, the two saw that there were several paths ahead, none too different from another.

“Where should we go?” Orel asked.

“How should I know?” Slacume shrugged.

Orel looked at all of the paths and pondered deeply.

“Let’s see...Eeny meany miny moe- “Orel pointed at the openings.

“You can’t be serious.”

“That one.” Orel stopped.

“And hell will we decide by chance!”

“How then?”

“I don’t know, but I won’t leave it up to fate!”

“There’s no telling what’s ahead." Orel shrugged. “We don’t know unless we try.”

“We might get lost!"

“Are you going just to sit around?” Orel asked.

Slacume wouldn’t answer.

“If you are fine with sitting down, then so be it. I’m going to find Isao.”

“You can’t leave me here!”

“It’s your choice.” Orel walked away.

“What sort of madman are you? Don’t you fear?”

“I fear a lot of things, but more than that, there’s something I need to do.”

Slacume saw Orel walk away by himself. Despite his hands shaking, he chose to continue. Instead of following, Slacume stayed murmuring by himself.

“All of these people looking down on me, what's the point?” Slacume mumbled.

After a while, the tunnel opened to a rather deep underground pond full of crystal clear water. As Orel shone his flashlight, it glimmered as if there was a mirror at the bottom of it. The ground was wet and full of narrow imprints through which water flowed to the lake. Orel could see the cave continuing on the other side but didn’t want to try and swim to the other side. Thanks to his light, Orel spotted a way around the lake instead. Going around it on a narrow pathway, the melancholy stillness of the water drew Orel’s gaze until he had passed it.

On the other side, Orel was ready to continue. He walked the tunnel until suddenly he heard a splash of water from behind him. Orel rushed running to the lake, and as he looked back, he saw ripples in the lake. Lifting his gaze, Orel saw a dark figure swimming underneath him. Orel didn’t know what to do or what it was. It reached the lake’s edge and broke the water’s surface a moment later. A pale arm smacked against the floor, and another followed. Orel kicked it back to the water as the body rose while screaming. He stayed at the edge, looking at all of the air bubbles coming up. The thing surfaced again with a scream which made Orel fall back.

“Help!” It said.

Orel ran to the edge and shone his flashlight. Floating there, trying to block out the bright light, was Slacume, all wet and without his suit jacket.

“Here, take my hand!”

With effort, Orel was able to pull him out.

“Why’d you kick me!” Slacume held his nose.

“Sorry, you scared me.”

“Wait, how come you aren’t all wet?”

“Oh, there’s a path near the edge.” Orel pointed.

“I couldn’t see anything in this darkness. I thought you had gone too far, so I tried swimming across.”

“You can borrow some of my extra clothes.”

“Thanks, but first, I’ll go grab my coat.” Slacume walked back.

After some steps echoed, another splash rang out.

“Did you fall?” Orel asked.

“I’m fine.”

A moment passed, yet the sounds of splashing water wouldn’t stop.

“Do you need help?” Orel asked.

“No,” Slacume insisted. “Yes.”

After a bit of drying out clothes and warming himself, Slacume was alright but not anywhere near as grateful.

"Damn it, where's my pendant?" Slacume tapped his chest.

"Did it fall off?"

"Oh, one thing after another!" Slacume moped, looking at the lake. "I'll never get it from there."

"Was it expensive?" Orel was slightly curious.

"It was a graduation gift from mom and dad."

"Oh, well...Maybe we will find it later?"

"Forget it. It's gone." Slacume sat down. "Why must I be saved all the time?” He asked.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.” Slacume crawled up.

“I mean, everyone needs help at some point.”

“Easy for you to say. You got the likes of Norman and that muscle man. No one needs me.”

“You think I don’t feel like I’m the third wheel?” Orel felt a stab in his heart by saying it out loud.

Slacume stayed quiet.

“I don’t want to be a bother either, but what’s left if I only care about that?” Orek asked. “I’m still going forwards with what I want to do, and it’s no one’s business to tell me otherwise.”

“That’s selfish,” Slacume said.

Orel thought for a moment as those words sunk in like the teeth of a venomous snake, yet then he remembered what someone had told him.

“Sometimes you need to be more selfish, more greedy."

“I don’t know if something like that is okay.”

“What do you think?” Orel asked.

Slacume couldn’t answer.

“Come on. We need to see where this leads.” Orel started walking.

“I-”

Orel stopped.

“I- I would like to manage the royal museum one day,” Slacume stood up.

“Go for it. You can definitely make it, just like we will get out of here.” Orel said.

He turned and kept on proudly walking forwards.

Slacume, slipping on the wet rocks, followed Orel and continued deeper into the cave.

Though not long after that, they stopped.

“It’s a dead-end,” Slacume pointed out.

“Well, let’s try another one.” Orel turned around.