Cedric walked toward the encampment, still gripping his broken sword.
The soldiers who had belatedly caught up panted as they closed the distance, but Cedric did not even turn his head as he spoke.
“We’re going back.”
He left only those brief words behind
and did not slow his pace.
A faint smoke still drifted over the encampment.
The fire looked as though it had already gone out,
but several wagons had already burned black, their forms collapsed.
At least four.
That much he could count at a glance.
The smell of charcoal was still alive.
As if the fire had not gone out, but was merely keeping its mouth shut.
The smoke skimmed low over the tents and scattered,
mixing with the damp dawn air and clinging to the back of his throat.
Cedric gripped the broken sword once more.
The chill left in his grasp
made all the heat from moments ago feel like a lie.
More than the fact that the sword had broken,
the sensation of the moment it snapped lingered longer.
And near the entrance of the abandoned house, soldiers were digging away the earth.
Their hands seemed to move before thought.
Not because anyone had ordered them to, but because it was blocked, and so they dug.
Cedric quickly approached them.
“What happened?”
A soldier stammered, unable even to wipe the dirt from his face.
“Ah… Sir Knight. Here… the dirt suddenly surged up… We’ve almost cleared it now.”
Cedric looked inside through the gap they had dug.
The priest lay collapsed, half-sunk into the floor.
Cedric immediately forced his way through the mound of earth and into the abandoned house.
First, he lifted the priest’s face.
His fever was abnormally high.
The veins beneath his skin stood out, and his breathing came in shallow, broken gasps.
‘He put Mirkin on his own body.’
Cedric could not relax the hand pressed to the priest’s pulse.
The flesh burned so hot
that even touching it with his fingertips made it hard to breathe.
‘On his own body.’
He knew why that choice was even more ominous.
Amplification placed on another had an end.
But if placed on oneself,
the end was not “going out,” but “collapse.”
Looking at the veins bulging along the priest’s neck, Cedric briefly ground his teeth.
What was needed now was not anger, but recovery.
The moment that fact was confirmed, Cedric’s insides sank once.
Then an even more ominous premonition brushed past him.
Cedric moved farther inside.
It was where the supplies should have been.
The food and materials that should have been neatly arranged—
were tangled together with mud.
At the place where the grain had spilled, dirt clung to it, and even when scooped up by hand, it did not scatter.
The sacks were torn, and the water barrels had fallen over, making the floor sodden.
Mud had seeped between the grains,
so that when a handful was clenched, it clumped together, then stretched filthily between the fingers.
One soldier lifted a sack,
only to drop it at once under the weight.
At the dull thud of it falling, the others’ shoulders stiffened as well.
Because it was not the sound of hunger,
but the sound of “what came next” collapsing.
Cedric spoke in an even lower voice.
“Throw away what must be thrown away. Keep what can be kept.”
Then he continued.
“Supply officer.”
One soldier ran over, then froze when he saw the inside.
“Th-this is… there’s no way….”
Cedric let out a long sigh.
“First. Sort out what can be used.”
“Now.”
When Cedric came outside, the soldiers were dragging the priest out and laying him on a cot.
Someone covered him with cloth, and someone brought water.
Cedric looked at the scene for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the door of the abandoned house.
“…As planned, we search again at dawn.”
His voice was not loud.
But at that single sentence, the soldiers’ backs stiffened.
“Rest as soon as the cleanup is done. Maintain the watch.”
Once the order ended,
the soldiers gave brief replies and immediately began moving.
Cedric watched their backs for a few more seconds.
Hands carrying sacks, hands pulling away wet tents,
hands shaking mud from filthy boots.
Everyone was making “tomorrow,”
and yet he felt as though he was making that “tomorrow” even narrower.
He slowly looked down at the broken sword.
It felt as though the crack was not in the sword, but in his own judgment.
Cedric sat down in a chair where the light did not reach.
And pressed a hand to his forehead.
The broken sword hilt still remained cold in his grasp.
—
Night at the Silver Moon Corps’ reconnaissance garrison.
It was an hour when most had fallen asleep.
Only the one guarding the entrance still remained at his post.
The forest was quiet, and the wind passed low.
Then a familiar whistle sounded.
Short, with a broken rhythm.
A signal meaning “ally.”
The one in charge of the entrance placed his hand on the boulder.
Then he moved his arm in a familiar motion.
The stone slowly split apart without a sound.
Muryeong entered first.
A little black ash still remained at the ends of his white hair,
and heat still seemed to linger on the blade of his axe.
After him, the team members entered one by one.
When the last shadow stepped inside, the boulder closed back to its original state.
Without a word, Muryeong led the team inward.
The moment the stone door closed,
the smell of the outside was cut off.
Once the chill of the forest was severed, only the smoke lingering on their clothes became clearer.
The team members did not look at one another.
When the door opened, Miryeong was there, dozing with her back against the wall.
Even with her eyelids half lowered, her ears were open.
As soon as Muryeong crossed the threshold, Miryeong opened her eyes.
“Ah, Muryeong.”
“Miryeong.”
Muryeong swept his gaze around once.
It was deep night.
If he began the report now, it would only cloud people’s heads instead.
“We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”
Miryeong nodded and stifled a yawn.
She stretched, then turned away and waved a hand dismissively.
“Yeah. The fact that you came back is enough.”
Miryeong went into another room just like that.
Muryeong and the team members quietly unpacked.
Someone inspected their equipment, and someone wiped the dirt from their hands.
No one bothered to say that they had “succeeded.”
Only the smell of smoke left in their hems—
told them that tonight, something had burned.
—
Morning sunlight slowly seeped into the garrison.
People rose one by one, and the smell of the night gradually lifted.
Bido, who opened his eyes first,
checked that the blanket right beside him had not yet stirred.
Raen was holding the edge of her quilt tightly with one hand,
breathing evenly.
Bido looked at the equipment placed in the corner and the familiar axe, then let out a steady breath.
They’re back.
Soon, people naturally gathered in one place.
There was something they had to discuss first today.
Muryeong gave a brief report.
“We burned several wagons, and the supplies… we ruined what they could use immediately.”
Jincheong raised the corner of his mouth ever so slightly.
Rangnan nodded.
“Good work. The traces?”
“Ah, I followed behind and turned everything upside down.”
At Jincheong’s words, Miryeong immediately asked,
“There was no resistance? Still… there was a knight there.”
Wolryeon glanced at Muryeong once.
Muryeong said calmly,
“We engaged.”
“I broke his sword and withdrew right away.”
Miryeong’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“Really? His face didn’t go strange or anything?”
Jincheong pointed a finger near his own temple.
“I think that really was the priest’s Mirkin.”
“We ran into him inside the abandoned house.”
“His eyes turned red, veins rose up, and he charged at us. His strength was… incredible.”
Ed nodded with a short laugh, wearing an expression that said, “Just as expected.”
At that moment,
Bido murmured without thinking,
“…Mirkin.”
Bido rolled the word around in his mouth.
Mirkin.
A power that could ruin someone,
and also save someone.
‘Maybe it can be stopped.’
The moment that thought rose up,
another followed it at the same time.
‘What if it can’t be stopped?’
Bido started to touch his necklace, then stopped.
Even though no one was watching him here,
his hand tried to hide first out of habit.
That troubled him even more.
Hope and anxiety surged in at the same time.
Miryeong looked at Bido
and smiled with an unreadable expression.
Rangnan finished speaking.
“Everyone rests today. You’ve done more than enough.”
“The intelligence team will deliver the situation, so all of you focus on resting.”
After a brief silence,
the tension draped over the garrison snapped loose.
Miryeong was the first to exhale, then flopped right down onto the floor.
“Haa….”
Bido gave a small laugh at the sight.
As if he had been waiting, Ed scurried over to Miryeong.
“Lady Miryeong, that thing you used on the knight back then was an awakening, right? What is it? Since when—”
Miryeong only turned her head in annoyance.
“Ah, go away, Ed.”
Wolryeon was silently unfastening and disassembling her enormous crossbow.
Her fingertips were quick and precise.
Rag cautiously approached her and said,
“Wolryeon, why don’t you rest a little too?”
Wolryeon pricked up her ears and answered coldly,
“I am resting.”
Rag’s ears drooped.
“Ah… right. Yeah.”
On one side, Marin had undone a rope and was quietly counting the pieces.
Her hands were meticulous, feeling even a single broken fiber.
Just then, Kallen clapped his hands once.
“Let’s eat first. We’ll prepare it for you. Come on, Bido.”
Bido nodded reflexively.
“Ah… yes!”
As Kallen and Bido walked toward the cooking area by the kitchen,
the other members and Yeonhwa were already finishing the meal preparations.
Kallen said,
“Lady Yeonhwa, Bido and I will help.”
Yeonhwa looked at Kallen once,
then at Bido, and shook her head.
“No. You two go sit down too. It’s all ready.”
Bido hesitated, then stepped forward once more.
“Then… I’ll carry the food!”
Yeonhwa smiled briefly.
“Fine. That much is enough.”
Even as they caught their breath,
dawn was approaching at the same pace.