Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece

The camp was quiet. Most of the soldiers were asleep. Exhausted from a long day of drills, scouting, and sparring.

Only a few low-burning fires remained. Flickering gently in the dark like tired eyes struggling to stay open.

The wind carried the distant creak of banners and the faint rustle of tent canvas, but otherwise, everything was still.

Lena moved with practiced silence.

Her steps were light, measured. Barely making a sound against the packed dirt as she passed between rows of tents.

The chill of the night nipped at her skin, but she ignored it. Her focus was sharp. Every muscle in her body steady.

She reached the supply crates near the edge of the camp and crouched behind them, just out of sight of the sentries.

Her breathing was quiet, controlled.

Slowly, carefully. She reached for her ear and removed a plain-looking earring.

It shimmered faintly under the moonlight.

Not just an ornament.

A storage item.

She pressed a finger to the side and activated the mana within.

The space inside unfolded briefly, and from it. She withdrew the smooth, red stone she kept hidden there.

Warm to the touch.

Glowing faintly like a living ember.

A communication artifact. Given to her long ago.

She closed her eyes for a second. Centering her thoughts. Then she whispered into the stone, barely moving her lips.

"Commander Rodrick."

There was a long pause. Nothing but the whispering wind and the faint creak of tents.

Then a voice, rough and low, emerged from the stone. "Report."

Lena breathed out slowly. She didn't hesitate.

"The Black Legion is planning a surprise ambush."

"Eastern side. Supply reroute. They're moving the Black command post to a cliff ridge. Light defenses. I copied the map. Sending details now."

Another pause. The voice on the other end remained silent.

Then it came again. Sharp and to the point. "Proof."

Without a word. Lena pressed her thumb against the surface of the stone and sent a small pulse of mana into it.

The artifact glowed brighter. Then cast a hazy red image into the air.

A sketch of the map she had copied earlier from Kyle's tent. The marked trails. The supposed ambush points.

All exactly where she had seen them.

She kept her eyes forward. Heart steady.

The silence that followed stretched long. Too long.

Finally, Rodrick's voice returned. Just one word.

"Good."

And then the connection severed. The light dimmed. The heat of the stone faded from her hand.

Lena slowly lowered her arm and slipped the stone back into its hidden space inside the earring.

Her fingers lingered against it for a moment before she snapped the item closed and tucked it into her pocket once more.

That was it. No further instructions. No praise. Nothing. Just… acknowledgment.

Cold. Distant.

She should have expected it.

Still crouched behind the crates. She let out a slow breath and stood, brushing dust from her knees. Her task was done.

She turned and began walking back toward the tents, slow and casual.

If anyone saw her. She could say she'd just gone for air. There was no reason to suspect her.

Not after how carefully she had blended in all this time.

No one stopped her. No one even looked her way.

Not that she knew of.

———

But high above, crouched in the shadows behind one of the supply tents. Someone had been watching.

Eleanora didn't move. Her dark cloak blended perfectly with the surrounding shadows.

Her presence completely hidden under layers of mana concealment.

She didn't blink. Didn't breathe loud enough to be heard. Her red eyes glowed faintly under the moonlight. Locked on Lena's every move.

She had followed Lena the moment she slipped out of her tent.

Kyle's suspicions had been right all along.

From the way Lena had lingered near maps, to the careful timing of her questions. To how she always seemed a little too informed.

And now Eleanora had seen it with her own eyes. The red stone. The whispered report. The floating map.

She'd heard it all.

As Lena disappeared back into the tent rows, Eleanora waited.

A few more seconds passed.

Then she shifted, moving like mist. Her steps didn't disturb a single grain of dust.

She melted into the shadows. Her cloak brushing silently against the tent canvas as she returned to her own campfire.

Her face was calm. Expression unreadable.

But her mind was already calculating.

Lena had delivered false information… exactly as planned.

Everything was going according to Kyle's setup.

———

Back in their shared tent. Lena stepped inside and looked around.

The dim lantern hanging near the center pole.

She pulled off her boots, set them quietly to the side, and crawled into her bedroll.

The blanket was rough and thin, but it would do.

Her fingers brushed against the earring again. Confirming it was still in place.

Her thoughts drifted to Rodrick. He hadn't said what he had do with the information.

But she knew better than to expect praise. The man never said more than necessary.

But if the ambush really did happen. If her intel helped wipe out a command post. Then it would matter.

She would proved herself again. Proved she was still useful.

A small, tired smile tugged at her lips.

She had done her part.

She closed her eyes.

And slept, never knowing that everything she'd just done had been seen… and was already being used against her.

———

[Rodrick POV]

The flame of the candle flickered gently. Casting long shadows across the worn canvas walls of the tent.

The old war map lay spread across the wooden table, edges curled from use. Its surface littered with small metal markers and scrawled notes.

Rodrick stood still, silent, as his eyes moved across it. Slow and deliberate.

His finger hovered over the east side of the map. Where the cliffs sloped sharply down into rough terrain.

A place not easily reached.

A place recently marked by Lena's report.

"Eastern post…" he muttered under his breath.

According to her, the Black Legion was planning to relocate their command post there.

A supply route too. Important enough to warrant protection, quiet enough to hide from plain view.

Rodrick didn't smile. He didn't frown either.

He simply stared.

He had seen too much over the years to trust reports at face value.

Especially ones that came so suddenly. Especially from spies the enemy thought they still controlled.

He straightened slowly, the weight of his armor shifting with him. The dark steel creaked faintly.

A sound he had grown used to, like an extension of his own body.

His crimson cape swayed behind him as he turned, pacing the length of the tent in slow, measured steps.

"They think me blind," he said quietly. "They always do."

Rodrick paused near the edge of the tent, where the cold wind slipped in through a gap in the canvas.

He had felt this before. This kind of bait.

A fake plan.

A planted conversation. A convenient map left unattended.

In his first few loops, such tricks had fooled him. Not anymore.

It was a good lie. Almost convincing.

But the timing was off. Too clean. Too careful.

His eyes narrowed as he turned back to the table.

He rested both hands on the edge, leaning slightly over it. As if staring at the map could wring the truth from it.

"Lena..." he said softly, almost fondly. "You did well. But they are not feeding you real orders anymore, are they?"

He had already suspected new players were cautious.

From what little he'd heard through Lena's fragmented messages.

He reached for a small black stone sitting beside the candle and pressed his thumb against it. The rune etched into its surface pulsed once.

"Captain Veyl," Rodrick said calmly.

A few moments passed before the tent flap moved.

A tall man entered. Lean, armored, face half-hidden behind a red scarf.

"You called, Commander?"

Rodrick nodded, lifting a hand to the eastern side of the map.

"Prepare a decoy unit. Light armor. No banners. Full weapons under traveler's cloaks. They'll move east. Quiet. Controlled."

Veyl's eyes flicked toward the map. "To the cliffs?"

"Yes," Rodrick said. "Let them think we are taking the bait."

A moment of silence passed. Then Veyl spoke again, carefully. "And the real target?"

Rodrick finally smiled. But it was not a warm expression.

"A mile south of the gulch," he said.

"That's where the trap waits. The kind a young tactician thinks will surprise us. Send the true strike team there."

"Maybe a few backup mages. I want the Reapers to flank them at dawn. No survivors."

Veyl gave a sharp nod. "Understood."

"Move quickly," Rodrick added.

"And tell the men to show fear. Act scattered. Let the enemy believe they have the upper hand."

"Yes, Commander." With a swift bow, Veyl turned and disappeared through the flap into the dark camp outside.

Rodrick stood there a moment longer. The candle's light dancing across the jagged scar on his cheek.

His fingers went to the pendant under his armor, hidden from view.

He held it between gloved fingers for a heartbeat.

A cracked crystal, small and dull now, but once vibrant.

It was all that remained of Rose.

Of her warmth. Of her laughter.

Of the life he lost in the 74th loop.

That world had died with her. And the world he stood in now was one of silence, war, and endless loops of pain.

Let these newcomers play their games, he thought. Let them lie. Let them believe in strategy and clever plans.

Let them think they're winning.

Rodrick turned away from the table. The folds of his cape brushing against the ground as he stepped into the night.

He would show them the truth.

War wasn't about cleverness.

It was about endurance.

And in this endless dungeon of blood and steel. He was the last man standing.

———