The morning in Daifko did not bring the clarity the Parliament's intelligence division had hoped for. Instead, it brought a cold, biting fog and a report that sent a ripple of unease through the command.
Inside the temporary hub, the Telekinesis operative stood by a rain-streaked window. Her gray eyes were clouded, her brow furrowed in concentration as she scanned the mental signatures within the city walls.
The intelligence chief walked in, his boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. He didn't look at the maps. He looked directly at her.
"Report," he commanded, his voice tight.
The girl shook her head slowly, her voice a thin whisper. "He's gone.. I've been trying to lock onto his resonance since the bells rang for dawn. Reinhard is no longer within the perimeter of Daifko."
The chief slammed his hand onto a wooden table. "He was ordered..strictly ordered,to remain in his quarters until their psychological assessment was complete. Where were the sentries?"
"The guards at the northern gate didn't report a thing," another agent reported from the doorway, his face pale. "They were found slumped against the stone. Not dead, but rendered unconscious.."
The chief turned toward the jagged horizon where the silhouette of the mountains loomed over the distant, shifting haze of The Roaming Forest.
"He's gone to theswamp," the chief muttered, his jaw clenching. "He's not giving his post for the Sisters. He's not waiting for Hellsifer's plan for him. He's going to look for the crimson ghost on his own.."
The girl closed her eyes, her breath hitching. "His mind was a storm of heat and vengeance before he left. If he enters the grove in this state, he won't just be a variable anymore. He'll be a catalyst.. he'll be just another soul consumed by themire.."
"Try to reach out to the Sisters ," the chief barked. "Tell them the 'Champion ' has broken his leash. If they want their mission to stay clean, they need to intercept him before he reaches theForest. Because once that thing wakes up to his bloodlust, none of us are going home."
____
Vandal walked with a deliberate slow pace through the manicured pathways of the capital's public garden. He looked like any other citizen enjoying the gray afternoon but his senses were tuned to the lurking man from the rooftops above.
The shadow following him was precise. He moved from roof to roof with fluid agility , keeping Vandal within his sight at all times. But as Vandal rounded a corner shaded by overgrown willow trees he simply vanished.
The operative froze on the edge of a clay-tiled roof.
His heart hammered against his ribs as he scanned the garden. Nothing. He rushed to the next building leaping across gaps and peering into courtyards. For several long minutes the shadow became the hunted darting from one vantage point to another in a frantic search to regain his target.
Eventually his search led him into a narrow damp alleyway where the light barely reached so he could catch a breath. The operative dropped down his breathing heavy eyes darting left and right.
"Are you looking for me?"
Vandal's voice came from directly behind him cold and steady.
The operative spun around delivering a sharp instinctive strike toward Vandal's throat. Vandal parried with a clean economy of motion. A brief intense hand to hand struggle ensued. Vandal noted the symmetry of the man's movements. This wasn't a common thu, his strikes were part of a disciplined coordinated system. Every punch was followed by a calculated shift in balance.
The shadow felt the gap in their power immediately. Every time he tried to find an opening Vandal was already there waiting. He realized that the man in front of him wasn't just defending, he was playing. Vandal could have ended his life within the first three exchanges if he truly desired.
The operative backed away slightly gasping for air. He decided to use the only weapon he had left.
"If you could have dropped me you would have done it by now," the shadow said his voice trembling but defiant. "But you won't. You need me to speak. You have questions don't you?"
Vandal remained silent. His lack of denial was the only answer needed.
The operative saw a momentary lapse and tried to scramble up the brick wall but Vandal moved faster. With a sharp kick Vandal struck a rusted iron gutter base, the pipe was so rusty and weak it collapsed instantly. The main pipe line that was horizontal to the pipe Vandal kicked snapped in half and a torrent of stagnant rainwater trapped for weeks came crashing down. The deluge hit the operative square in the face washing away the grime and the shadows that masked his features.
Underneath the fedora hat's dimming was the face of an ordinary man. A face that could blend into any crowd. A nobody.
Vandal grabbed him by the damp collar of his coat pinning him against the wall while he was still sputtering from the water. Vandal's eyes were like shards of ice.
"If you want to return to your comrades in one piece you are going to answer every single one of my questions," Vandal whispered his grip tightening.
_____
The air in the northern mountains was thin and biting freezing the breath before it could even leave the lungs. Reinhard pressed forward on his horse the steady rhythmic beat of hooves against the frosted earth the only sound in the desolate silence.
Suddenly a figure emerged from the veil of gray mist. It was Ophilia. Her polished silver armor caught the dim light reflecting the jagged peaks around them with a haunting brilliance. Her short red hair cut in that sharp square frame remained perfectly still despite the wind.
"That is enough Sir Knight," she said her voice clear and carrying a natural authority. "Do not proceed any further."
Reinhard didn't even turn his head. He looked past her toward the dark peaks visible in the distance. He continued his pace ignoring her presence as if she were nothing more than a wayside stone.
"Sir Knight Reinhard," she called out her tone shifting into something more formal. "My two sisters and I are currently tasked with the observation of TheRoamingForest. You must turn back toward the intelligence hub in Daifko. They are searching for you even as we speak."
Reinhard finally pulled on the reins bringing his mount to a slow halt. He looked down at her his eyes burning with a dark unyielding fire. "The area near the swamp is my office," he replied his voice was like grinding stones. "You and your sisters should find somewhere else to play."
Ophilia didn't flinch. She stepped forward the metal of her boots crunching the frost.
"But those are not the orders. You know as well as I do that it is unwise for a knight of our standing to meddle with Lord Hellsifer's designs."
Reinhard let out a low sharp laugh.
"You cannot possibly believe that I lack an answer for when Hellsifer demands an explanation for my actions."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The air grew heavy with the weight of unsheathed intent.
Ophilia reached for her hilt and drew her sword in one fluid elegant motion. The blade shimmered with a deadly silver light as she pointed it directly at his chest.
"And you cannot possibly believe as well that I lack a good explanation for him regarding this," she countered her gaze locking onto his.
Reinhard's eyes widened slightly a mixture of shock and predatory interest flickering in his pupils. "This is high treason Miss Ophilia," he whispered his voice dripping with lethal calm. "Treason and stupidity combined if I am ever asked to testify."
Without taking his eyes off her Reinhard dismounted. His boots hit the frozen ground with a heavy finality. He wasn't retreating, he was preparing for the only language he truly understood.
_____
Vandal stepped into the dimly lit office of the Authority, dragging the heavy form of the operative behind him like a sack grain. He dropped the man in the center of the rug with a dull thud. The shadow was unrecognizable his face was a map of dark bruises and swelling, his clothes still damp and clinging to his battered frame.
Aarons jolted back in his chair, his eyes bulging as he stared at the motionless heap on the floor. His face went pale, the pen in his hand snapping under the sudden pressure.
"Goodness... Vandal!" Aarons gasped, rising slowly from his desk, his voice trembling. "Is he... is he dead? You brought a corpse into my office?"
Vandal's dark gloomy eyes didn't even look down at the man. He leaned against the doorframe.
"He's breathing," Vandal said, his voice flat and devoid of empathy. "For now."
Aarons let out a long, ragged sigh, sinking back into his seat. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, trying to process the sight of one of the Parliament's shadows reduced to this broken state.
"The plan was to lure him in, Vandal," Aarons muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion
Vandal finally looked up, his eyes cold and unblinking. "He was too persistent. So I delayed the conversation."
Aarons knew that Vandal needs some extra attention and work from the Authority to make him a fit , responsible individual, yet the looks of worrying in his face said that Vandal need even more work than expected
______
The tension between the two sharpened into something lethal. Reinhard's horse moved away instinctively as the two warriors claimed the frozen clearing.
Reinhard looked at the silver blade pointed at him, his expression shifting from surprise to a weary kind of irritation. "Put your sword back in its sheath and leave this place," he said his voice echoing against the cliffs. "Do it now and I will choose to forgive the sheer stupidity of you challenging me."
Ophilia didn't move an inch. She stood her ground with a terrifying level of confidence her armor gleaming like a mirror. "Your Grace 'MetamorphosisofaChampion' is truly one of the most magnificent and powerful abilities a man could ever witness," she said her voice steady. "But..."
Without warning or a hint she lunged. Her sword whistled through the freezing air in a blur of silver.
Reinhard was forced to move immediately twisting his body with a grunt of effort. He parried the air with his gauntlets dodging her rapid fluid strikes that seemed to flow like mercury. Even for a knight of his caliber, her speed was troubling. He didn't draw his sword, he simply focused on maintaining his life.
Reinhard managed to kick off the ground creating a wide gap between them. He stood panting slightly his eyes narrowed as he watched her reset her stance.
"Let us see how much of an impact your Grace truly has against mine," she continued her eyes locking onto his with a predatory glint.
Before he could answer she initiated another dash. This time she moved with a velocity that defied natural physics. As she closed the distance she spoke mid-stride the words sharp and mocking.
"Or have you already realized that activating your Grace is utterly useless in front of..." she let the sentence hang as a challenge.
She swung again a horizontal slash that Reinhard barely ducked. "Come now! What is the matter? We are far from the swamp... the Forest cannot hear us here!"
Reinhard's jaw tightened. For the first time in a long time the Great Knight looked genuinely cornered. He wasn't just facing a sword, he was facing a riddle that seemed to challenge the very essence of his strength. He reached for the hilt of his massive blade but his fingers hesitated as if his own body was warning him that the usual rules of war no longer applied.
Reinhard brushed his chestnut hair back with his hand as a bead of sweat rolled down into the scar on his left eyebrow. He locked his gaze onto Ophilia and a sharp predatory smile flickered across his face.
"So be it then," he whispered.
A clash of steel between the comrades in foreign lands , some news the Intelligence forces weren't ready to receive.