Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece

Author' Note: Please check out Chapter 158 again. I've made some changes and rewritten Rodrick's POV.

———

[Eastern Cliffs]

The night was cold and still as the Red Legion's decoy unit crept toward the eastern cliffs.

A sharp breeze rolled over the jagged rocks, carrying the scent of dirt and steel.

Clouds drifted across the sky. Hiding parts of the moon and casting shifting shadows along the path.

Cloaked in dark travel gear. A small group of Red Legion soldiers moved in formation.

Their armor barely made a sound beneath the thick cloth as they advanced. Each step measured, weapons close at hand.

They were trained not to speak unless necessary. Eyes scanned every crack in the stone, every edge of the narrow path. Tension hung thick in the air.

The cliffs were quiet. Too quiet.

The lead scout raised his hand, signaling the group to stop.

They crouched behind a sharp bend in the rocks, looking down at the stretch of terrain below them.

A few tents had once stood here, the signs faint but visible. Empty crates. Drag marks. Even a dead campfire. Burned down days ago.

But no soldiers.

No sounds of boots.

No patrols.

Just wind whistling through the cliffs.

The scout frowned and stepped closer to the unit captain, lowering his voice.

"Sir… there's no one here."

The captain's jaw clenched. He turned his gaze toward the shadows below and scanned the area again, heart thudding in his chest.

Nothing.

No movement. No signs of life. No command post.

But that didn't make sense.

The intel had been clear.

A few hours earlier. A message had come through Lena's artifact. Short, urgent.

The Black Legion had secretly relocated one of their supply lines to the Eastern Cliffs. It was being guarded lightly. Easy to strike.

Rodrick himself had approved the mission. Not to fully attack. But to send a decoy unit to confirm the information and apply pressure if needed.

Now… it looked like a dead end.

The captain pulled out a communication crystal and whispered a quick incantation, holding it to his mouth.

"Commander Rodrick," he said, his tone steady but low. "The cliffs are empty. No sign of the enemy. I repeat... Nothing at the designated location."

There was silence for a moment.

A crackling sound filled the gem. The signal was received.

———

[Red Legion Camp – Command Tent]

Rodrick's fingers froze over the map table.

He had been standing there just a moment ago, studying the black marks across the eastern ridges.

Tracing movement routes. Counting supply wagons.

He had been planning the next strike.

Now he stood perfectly still. The captain's voice still echoing in his ears through the crystal.

"Empty?"

That couldn't be right.

He slowly lifted the stone off the map, holding it closer.

The Black Legion's command post had been here. He was sure of it.

The report Lena sent was precise. Handwritten map, marked supply paths, time-stamped with magic traces that matched her energy signature.

Everything looked real.

Too real.

Rodrick's brow furrowed as a chill crept down his spine.

Unless…

Unless they knew.

Unless the players hadn't been tricked at all.

What if they had known from the beginning?

What if everything... The overheard conversation. The loose map. The fake strategy talk... Had been part of the plan?

His chest tightened.

Maybe Lena hadn't copied stolen information.

Maybe she had been given false information on purpose.

And if that was true… then this wasn't just a failed ambush.

This was a trap.

And he had walked into it.

The cliffs were empty because the Black Legion had never moved their command post there in the first place.

Rodrick's hand clenched around the crystal.

They'd wasted time. They'd moved troops in the wrong direction.

And while their eyes were fixed on the cliffs. Black Legion could be striking somewhere else.

He slammed his fist onto the table, scattering markers and pins across the map.

The scent of burning oil drifted from the lanterns. The quiet hum of magic buzzed in the air.

Then he grabbed the second communication stone, channeling his mana into it quickly.

His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence of the tent.

"Veyl," he barked. "Status report. Now.

———

[The Southern Cliffs]

Captain Veyl stood still. His boots crunching lightly against the gravel as he stared down the narrow, rocky gulch.

Shadows clung to the cliffs around him, and the cold air bit against his skin.

There was no sound. No birds, no wind. Just silence.

Too quiet.

Behind him, twenty Red Legion soldiers followed with careful steps. Their armor muffled with dark cloaks.

Each one was trained, alert, blades ready. They moved like ghosts through the ravine.

The plan had been whispered among officers just before nightfall.

Lena's intel said the Black Legion was planning something near the eastern post.

Some kind of ambush or supply relocation. But Rodrick hadn't trusted it.

It had come too conveniently.

So instead of falling into a potential trap, Rodrick had sent a small fake team east.

The real strike force, led by Veyl himself, was sent to the Southern Cliffs.

It was the kind of misdirection Rodrick excelled at.

But now, something about the cliffs felt… wrong.

Veyl's eyes scanned the terrain again. Cracks between rocks. Dirt that looked too smooth.

A strange pattern in the grass. Like someone had disturbed it and covered the tracks.

He raised a hand, signaling the squad to slow their pace.

Then his crystal buzzed.

He quickly pulled it from his belt and held it up.

"Veyl," Rodrick's sharp voice came through. "Status report. Now."

"No movement yet, sir," Veyl replied. His tone was steady, but he kept glancing at the cliffs.

There was a pause.

Then Rodrick's voice came back, tense. "Veyl. Pull back. Now. Something's wrong."

"…Sir?" Veyl blinked, turning his head. "We just, wait…"

He stopped.

There. On the ground.

A faint shimmer. A glow.

Thin lines of runes began to light up beneath their feet. First blue, then red.

The veins of light slithered outwards in webbed patterns, snaking under boots and around rocks.

"MOVE—!"

But it was already too late.

BOOM.

The cliffs exploded.

A roar of fire erupted from beneath the ground.

Runes flared like stars, releasing bursts of energy.

Sharp spikes of ice shot up like jagged teeth, piercing armor and flesh.

The blast sent bodies flying, slamming into rocks. The shockwave shook the canyon walls, loose stone tumbling down in showers.

Screams echoed.

One soldier was hurled into the air, his shield ripped from his arm.

Another tried to cast a barrier spell. Only for it to shatter in a flash of frost, flame and Lightning.

The explosions didn't stop.

They chained. One rune lighting the next in a deadly sequence down the pass.

Smoke and ash rose into the night, turning the sky above into a black cloud of sparks.

Veyl tried to move. To raise his hand.

His communication crystal crackled.

"C-Commander—"

CRACK.

The crystal burst into shards in his palm.

A final blast rocked the cliffs, swallowing him in a flash of fire.

———

The crimson crystal slipped from Rodrick's gloved fingers and hit the stone floor with a dull clink. It rolled a few inches before stopping.

His jaw clenched. His eyes stared at the ruined crystal as if he could force it to speak.

But it wouldn't.

Because Veyl was gone.

And with him. Two dozen of Rodrick's best men.

Rodrick's breath came fast, too fast.

His chest rose and fell as fury began to rise like a tide inside him. He'd known it was too clean.

He had known Lena's intel might be bait. But he let the seed of doubt grow.

He let himself believe. Just for a moment, that maybe, just maybe. She'd delivered something real.

And now his soldiers were dead because of it.

"They played me," he growled, the words sharp and bitter.

His teeth clenched. His hand curled into a fist, shaking with rage.

"They let me think I was winning."

A thousand years in this cursed dungeon. A thousand years of betrayal, blood, and war.

And still. They'd outmaneuvered him.

"Enough."

His hand moved to his sword. The moment his fingers touched the hilt, the blade shimmered, reacting to his rage.

Mana flared around him. Deep red. Almost black.

He marched toward the flap of his command tent and barked at the nearest soldier outside.

"Prepare my horse. I ride with the next wave."

The man hesitated. "Commander, should we wait for—"

"NOW." Rodrick's voice cracked like a whip.

The soldier scrambled off.

Rodrick stood still for a moment, breathing hard.

"They want a real battle?" he muttered, eyes glowing with fury. "Then I'll give them one."

The Eastern post might have been a decoy. But that didn't matter anymore.

His next move wouldn't be subtle. He would cut through their lines, find their commander, and rip the truth out of whoever dared stand in his way.

Rodrick's lips curled into a cold, violent smile.

"Let's see how clever they are when they are bleeding."

———