Fixing his attire and checking his glasses, a slender mop of Major in a dark uniform tapped his feet on the side of the road while anxiously lighting a cigarette.

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

A slanting boulder of a man traced the muddy road like a bloodhound with his potato nose, strapped in a similar uniform and a military 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 pointed down, walking on all fours.

“The nearest town is still far away. Could we get a move on?” Lieutenant Jessie asked from the back of the third car.

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 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.

"We can't dismiss odd phenomena such as this." Diarmuid stood up.

“Maybe they just left the car?” Jessie asked, fixing her grayish-blue hair.

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

“We do not have time to play detectives, Captain Cumhaill. That is what the Paranormal Investigation Corps is for.” James was ready to light another cigarette.

“Um, Major. We got BMR here.” Lieutenant Angus stepped out of the car with goggles down on his helmet.

Background Magic Radiation or BMR was the newly discovered way to detect mana’s present and past use. It could register the leftover mana particles in the air and even identify the source to a degree.

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

Angus was the head of the electric and communication platoon in charge of deploying and maintaining technology. Thanks to the artificial Nazar attached to the forehead of his helmet, he could sense and even visualize magic particles in the air.

“I can’t make it up well. Maybe an AOE spell.” Angus flipped his goggles up.

“I knew something was up,” Diarmuid said.

“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 said.

“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. We must inform the local Duke so he can assess the situation, and he will then either permit us to further investigation or move it to the hands of the Magistrate.”

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

“We are trying to digitalize the process, but until then, we have to do it the old fashion way,” James explained.

"And that means?" Diarmuid asked.

"Going there in person," James answered sternly.

“I hate bureaucracy,” Angus made a deep sigh.

“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 performed a salute.

“Guess not.” Angus shrugged.

“Very well. Officer Lexion, can you drive us there?” James turned to the first car's window.

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 into 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 them whilst picking his nose.

“And Lieutenant Aberdeen, file a report and send it to HQ. Over.” James specified.

“Wilco. Over and out.” Angus replied from 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?” Diarmuid frowned.

“I’ll look into it after around a hundred.” Angus watched the replaced display.

The sloped car with its many wheels drove away. Civilian drivers glanced at the convoy, wondering what was happening.

“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 Guerrian brand.” Lexion sneered at James’ ignorance.

“Seems like a rather specific taste," James said.

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

"I would like it if you made the same effort that you have to cars into your work," James commented.

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

“No more bickering. This is important."

“As long as we can check out before midnight.” Lexion yawned.

A few hours before the convoy, Ándras found himself under a collapsed shack. Clearing the rubble was no problem to him, but he wasn't concerned about it, to begin with.

“Norman! Norman?” Where is everyone?” He yelled into the woods,

Ándras roamed the forest for a while, 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 friendly voice called.

Andras looked straight at a bear. He could only wonder how it spoke until the thing stood up. The bear revealed itself to be 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 was as surprised as he was. He wore a hunting jacket and padded pants that all seemed to have seen quite a bit of use.

“Oh, don’t be frightened. I am just out here hunting.” The man's way of speech had a foreign accent with a sense of modesty and formality.

“Ah, that coat got me for a second,” Ándras took a deep breath.

“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 in this fog. I am trying to seek out 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.” Ándras shook the man's hand without a warning.

The man walked first, and Ándras 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?” Ándras noticed.

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

“What do you usually catch here?” Ándras 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?” Ándras couldn't help but ask.

“I came here as a refugee during the 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.”

Ándras could hear the slightest bit of spite in the man's voice but continued with him. After some more walking, the man stopped.

“We’re here.”

A small cabin in an opening without any lights revealed itself. There were piles of firewood, an outhouse, an old black car, and a small shack without windows standing next to the main cabin. The man headed inside and switched on the lights. Inside it smelled old and dusty, with a slight scent of cooked meat, but Ándras wasn’t sure what kind. There was not much, just the bare necessities and an extra chair. Decorations were minimal, with no pictures, mainly some hides and headpieces, and only one picture of the man and a young girl.

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

“This is where you live?” Ándras asked.

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

“I see.” Ándras nodded.

“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.” Ándras sat down.

“Tell me, what is your name?”

“It’s Ándras,” Ándras said after taking a sip.

“Ándras, what an interesting name.” The man rested his head on his hand.

“I didn’t catch your name either."

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

“Do you live alone, Jack?” Ándras 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 Camlann.” Jack stared emptily at the table.

“Must be tough.”

“I keep going for her sake. We are not wanted for reasons beyond us, so landing a job is hard. Until she can provide for herself, I will hunt.”

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

“I... don’t know."

“Maybe not knowing who they are is better.”

Àndras took further sips of his drink. The subject was a bit too heavy for his liking.

“This tea tastes weird.” Ándras noticed.

“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.” Àndras didn't really know if it did.

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

After half a mug, Ándras felt a bit off. His eyes felt heavy and his sight blurred.

“What...” Ándras 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?” Ándras couldn’t stand up.

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

Though Jack spoke the same, his demeanor frightened Ándras. If his arms wouldn't felt so heavy, he would have immediately begun backing off.-

“You see, I took part in a certain contest a while ago. I was so close to finding it, and then the whole thing was canceled. A fire had started, they said. I was hoping to use that money to give Annabelle a better home in the big cities."

Ándras lost feeling in his limbs and could hardly talk. No hangover or level of drunkenness could compare to what he felt.

“Before any of that, I happened to catch a glimpse of how the fire started. I saw you, and now you are here. Mother used to say there are no coincidences. Fate always has a meaning, and I have a good idea what this means.”

“Why are you doing this?” Ándras asked.

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

Though he did not want to resort to it, Ándras decided it was time to use his magic. However, Jack merely stepped back and searched his wardrobe.

“You still have some strength in you. That won't do. Wouldn’t want this forest to burn down as well.” Jack took out a metal collar with embedded gems around it. He put it on Ándras and snapped it shut.

Ándras could feel mana surging in his body, yet it wouldn't concentrate. Instead, the gems shone brighter and brighter around his neck. With the drug kicking in, Ándras lost more and more strength with each passing moment. It did not take long for him to fall asleep against his will.

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

“This is a good day for the Jackal.” Jack lifted Ándras' legs to drag him.

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.

“Isao!” Orel yelled. His voice echoed far back to the cave.

“Hush!” Slacume covered his mouth. “What are you doing? Do you want to alert all of the boggarts?” He whispered.

“Sorry.”

"Just stay quiet."

“It’s really dark in here.” Orel watched his steps.

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 shook the necklace like a broken remote.

“What?" Orel watched from the side.

“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 would not light anything too far away. If anything, it made them more visible to anything lurking in the shadows.

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

“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 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- " He chanted while pointing with his finger.

“You can’t be serious.” Slacume snapped.

“That one.” Orel pointed at the furthest one on the right.

“And hell will we decide by chance!”

“How then?” Orel asked.

“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!"

“What are we going to do then? Sit around?"

Slacume wouldn’t answer.

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

“You can’t leave me here!”

“It’s your choice.” Orel walked away.

“What sort of madman are you? Aren't you afraid?"

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't go on."

Orel heard no other steps than his own. 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?” He 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. The cave continued on the other side but Orel didn't feel like going for a swim. Thanks to his light, he spotted a way around the lake instead.

Going around it on a narrow pathway, the hypnotic stillness of the water drew Orel’s gaze until he crossed it. On the other side, Orel was ready to continue.

Suddenly he heard a splash of water from behind him. Orel rushed running to the lake and saw ripples in the water. Orel saw noticed a dark figure swimming under the water. He didn’t know what to do or what it was. It reached the lake’s edge and broke the water’s surface. A pale arm smacked against the ground, and another followed.

As the head burst from the water, it screamed horribly. Orel kicked it back into the water. He stayed at the edge, looking at all of the air bubbles coming up. The thing surfaced again with a scream that 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.

“Here, take my hand!” Orel said.

With effort, Orel was able to pull him out.

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

“Sorry, you scared me.”

“Wait, how come you aren’t all wet?” Slacume twisted his t-shirt

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

“I can'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.” Orel offered his jacket.

“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 looked back at the lake. "I'll never get it from there."

"Was it expensive?" Orel asked.

"It's a family heirloom."

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

"Forget it. It's gone." Slacume sat down. "What's the point?"

“The water is clear. You can find it."

“It's not like it's the first time I messed up.” Slacume crawled up. "That's what I'm all good for."

“Everyone makes mistakes. That doesn't make you useless."

“Easy for you to say. You got someone like Norman to teach you for some reason. No one needs me. No one wants 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 use is there to keep moping about it? My friends trust me, and I trust them. That's all there is to it.”

“Lucky you,” Slacume said.

Orel thought for a moment as those words sunk in like the teeth of a venomous snake. "I know I'm lucky, but I'd rather feel grateful about what I have than what I don't."

"You don't know how hard I've worked, yet it all feels like it's for nothing." Slacume teared up.

“What do you want to do?"

Slacume was silent.

“I will be going now. We don't have time for this. Either follow me or go back.” Orel started walking.

“I-” Slacume said.

Orel stopped.

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

“Then, go for it.” Orel nodded and kept on proudly walking forwards.

Slacume, slipping on the wet rocks, followed Orel and continued deeper into the cave with a smile on his face.

Though not long after that, they stopped.

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

“Well, let’s try another one.” Orel turned around with a worried smile.