Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece

[Red Legion Camp]

The war tent was silent except for the crackle of torchlight flickering against the crimson banners.

The flames danced along the fabric. Casting warped shadows across the maps laid out on the heavy wooden table.

The table itself was scarred. Its surface burned and stained with old blood.

Some of the parchment maps were torn at the edges. Others soaked through with dried ink and ash.

Commander Rodrick (Red Commander) stood alone in the tent, unmoving.

His fingers, covered in steel gauntlets, pressed down hard into the wood.

The grain creaked beneath the pressure, as if trying to breathe. But Rodrick didn't let up.

His red eyes stared ahead. Lifeless, hollow, like rusted metal left too long in the rain. They didn't blink. Didn't flinch.

Just stared.

"One thousand and forty-three years."

His voice was low. Barely a whisper. But in the stillness of the tent. It rang louder than any scream.

"Twenty-one days. Fifteen hours."

The exact time since it all began.

He remembered the first moment clearly. Like it was still happening.

He had been a simple mercenary back then. Battered armor, steady hand, decent aim.

He and Rose were clearing out an Iron-rank dungeon, laughing between fights.

She was always teasing him. Light on her feet. Her daggers moving faster than most eyes could follow.

He had just missed a shot with his crossbow. She had laughed, called him old.

And then—

The air tore open.

A soundless rip. The sky blinked. The ground under them turned to nothing.

One second they were inside a cave. The next they were falling. Falling into a skyless world.

And then came the screams.

Black-armored soldiers rushed them. No warning. No questions. Just steel and blood.

Rodrick barely had time to grab his blade before they were surrounded.

Rose moved faster, already cutting through two enemies before he could draw breath. She was always better than him at close range.

They fought side by side. Back to back.

By the time the Red Legion found them. They were covered in blood and half-dead.

They didn't know where they were. The dungeon, a simulation, a rift, or a trial.

Rodrick hadn't cared. He only wanted out. So did Rose.

But there was no exit.

They tried.

Really tried.

They fled in the night, hid in valleys, begged anyone. Black or Red, for help.

But the land didn't let them go. The trees twisted back into paths they had already walked.

The rivers blocked them with floods. The skies turned black when they wandered too far.

It was like the place itself was watching them. Laughing.

So they gave up.

They fought.

And kept fighting.

Five years passed before they saw even a glimmer of hope.

When they finally drove a blade through the Black Commander's chest.

Rose collapsed into his arms, covered in blood. Her face glowing with exhausted joy.

"We did it," she whispered.

Rodrick smiled. For a moment. He believed it too.

Then the System message appeared in front of them

——————

5 Players Missing

The Scenario Will Start Again

——————

Rodrick remembered how Rose's face fell. How her lips stopped moving mid-smile. How her eyes lost their light.

The war reset.

Fresh soldiers.

This time. They were stronger.

Same screams. Same blood. Same pain.

Rodrick and Rose fought again. Harder. Smarter. It took longer the second time. Seven years.

Then the message returned.

——————

5 Players Missing

The Scenario Will Start Again

———————

That night, Rose cried into his arms. Not from pain. But from something worse.

Hopelessness.

By the 30th loop, they had stopped trying to escape.

By the 40th, they stopped counting days.

By the 50th, they stopped remembering how they had lived before this place.

With each loop, the enemies grew stronger.

Then came the 74th loop.

The one Rodrick would never forget.

Rose was pregnant.

It still felt like a miracle.

They hadn't even thought it was possible inside this twisted hell.

But somehow, she had life growing inside her. She smiled more that year.

Laughed more. Even sang sometimes, when the wind was quiet.

Rodrick remembered carving a small cradle from the wood,

It had taken him days to shape it with his bare hands and a dull knife.

He gave it to her like it was the finest treasure in the world.

She had laughed. Really laughed, the kind that made her eyes crinkle and her cheeks glow.

"Our little warrior," she had said. Resting her hand on her belly.

Rodrick had let himself hope again.

Just once.

That maybe, this time, they'd win.

That maybe the loop would break. That maybe they'd raise a child together. Even if the world around them was cursed.

But the dungeon wasn't done with them.

The Black Legion ambushed their camp in the dead of night.

The snow was red before Rodrick even reached her tent.

He found her outside, fighting with everything she had.

Her movements were slower than before, but still fierce. She was bleeding. One hand on her stomach.

She killed two soldiers before falling.

Rodrick reached her just in time to catch her.

She was shivering. Her hands were soaked in blood. Her own and others.

She looked up at him, her lips trembling.

"Live," she said. "Don't die. Promise me."

He promised.

He held her close, feeling her breath slow. Feeling her warmth fade.

He didn't cry.

He just closed her eyes with a kiss and stood up.

And then—

He tore through the Black Legion like a storm.

No mercy. No hesitation.

He killed every last one of them in that camp.

———

The 100th Loop

Rodrick stopped trying to end the war.

That was long ago. So long, he couldn't remember what it felt like to hope.

He'd tried everything in the first few loops. Diplomacy. Force. Sacrifice. He tried surrender.

He tried to broker peace.

But the war always reset.

Same battlefield. Same blood. Same screams.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until the number 100 burned into his mind like a curse.

One hundred cycles of death and madness.

One hundred loops where the ending never came.

One hundred lives lived just to see everything fall apart the same way, every time.

Rodrick had long since realized the truth.

This place wasn't a warzone. It was a cage.

A game.

A twisted experiment.

And he was its prisoner.

The goal was simple on paper.

"Five more players are needed to begin the scenario"

That's what the System had said once. Long ago.

But the players never came.

Years passed. Then decades. Then centuries.

Rodrick had watched soldiers live and die. He buried friends. Buried enemies.

Buried himself in rage and silence.

No one came.

Until now.

A month ago, the System whispered again.

So casually. Like it hadn't been silent for a thousand years.

——————

All Players Have Arrived.

Primary Objective: Kill the Black Commander.

——————

Rodrick had frozen.

Then he had screamed. A raw, broken sound that tore from his chest.

He shattered his sword against the nearest wall. The metal snapped in half like brittle glass.

He kicked the table. Flipped the maps. Roared until his voice cracked and blood rose in his throat.

"NOW?!" he shouted. "AFTER A THOUSAND YEARS?!"

He collapsed onto his knees, breath ragged.

Fists clenched against the stone floor.

It wasn't fair.

It had never been fair.

He knew it wasn't the new players' fault. Deep down. He knew they didn't ask for this.

But it didn't matter.

He didn't care anymore.

Let them suffer.

Let them rot here like he had.

Let them feel what it meant to fight a war that couldn't end.

He wouldn't let them win. Not easily. Not without losing something.

Not without crawling through the same hell he had endured for centuries.

He stood up, slowly, and picked up the broken half of his sword. Tossed it aside.

Then called for two of his best.

Lena. Rook.

Not real people. Not outsiders. Just creations of the dungeon. NPCs molded from memory and magic.

Born from the cycle. But loyal. Sharp. Dangerous.

He looked them in the eye and gave the order.

"Pretend you're from outside," he told them. "Act confused. Play along. Earn their trust."

"And then?" Rook asked.

"Then betray them."

Simple. Cold. Efficient.

It wasn't about strategy anymore.

It was revenge.

Petty, maybe. But it was all he had left.

Let them bleed. Let them break.

Let them feel the same confusion and dread he once felt. Walking through this battlefield for the first time.

Let them see how it felt to scream into a void that never answered.

The tent was quiet.

The only sound came from the low hum of mana as a small crystal flickered on the table beside him.

A deep red stone. Their communication link.

It buzzed once.

Rodrick picked it up.

Lena's voice hissed through, low and strained. And fed him the information

He closed his fingers around the crystal.

Tight.

Then crushed it to dust.

The shards crumbled from his hand, silent.

And for the first time in centuries. Rodrick smiled.

"Good."

The smile didn't last.

The air shifted. Just slightly.

The flap of the tent rustled. Though no wind touched it.

Rodrick didn't turn.

He didn't need to.

He felt her.

Not her presence. Not exactly. Just… something.

A memory, maybe. A warmth against his back.

A whisper of breath where no breath should be. The ghost of someone long gone.

Her fingers brushed against his. Faint as mist.

He closed his eyes.

"Still cruel," her voice murmured, soft and teasing. "Even after all this time."

His throat tightened.

"Rose…"

He didn't speak louder than a whisper.

"I kept my promise," he said, voice shaking. "I lived."

He didn't say barely.

He didn't say broken.

He didn't say I never stopped waiting.

She knew.

He felt her kiss his scarred cheek. No warmth, no pressure. Just the echo of love.

A memory pretending to still be real.

Then she was gone.

The tent was silent again.

No breeze. No breath. No heartbeat but his own.

And Rodrick was alone.

Still.

A king with no army. A commander with no end.

A man who had watched the world turn to dust again and again until even grief felt tired.

He opened his eyes.

His face hardened.

The smile didn't return.

Only the anger stayed.

Burning.

Waiting.

And this time. He wouldn't let the war end.

Not for them.

Not yet.

———