Chapter 28: The Weight of Resolve

  The morning sky was a shroud of leaden silk, the light so miserly that it was impossible to tell if it were dawn or deep dusk.

  Ronen, however, had already stirred. Years of mercenary life had forged a biological clock that ticked in sync with the rhythms of survival. As they pushed further north, the daylight felt stolen, cut short by an encroaching darkness. The polar night was no longer a legend in a dusty atlas; it was a palpable, suffocating weight.

  Despite the mental toll of the previous night’s watch, his young body had refilled its reservoirs of strength with only a brief rest. As he moved to rise, the rustle of fabric sounded beside him.

  "You could have squeezed in another hour," came Wolf’s voice. It lacked the effortless resilience of Ronen’s youth, sounding low and raspy, as if ground down by the freezing wind. He tossed a slab of dark brown jerky toward the younger man. "You handled yourself well last night. You’ve got a knack for this, kid."

  Ronen caught it and tore off a piece. The meat was tough, salty, and rich; as the fat melted on his tongue, it chased away the last lingering wisps of drowsiness.

  "We rotated watches constantly in the guild," Ronen said through a mouthful of jerky. "As trainees, we had to be jacks-of-all-trades—even if we were masters of none." He noted the faint blue shadows under Wolf’s eyes. "What about you, Uncle? You drove all day and watched half the night. You should lie back down."

  Wolf let out a low, tired chuckle. "Worrying about me now, are you?" He stifled a yawn. "But since you’re up, there’s no sense in me playing martyr. The others will be awake soon. Except for Mark, none of them seem the type to sleep in. I’ll catch a few winks."

  He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Within breaths, his chest began to rise and fall in a slow, heavy rhythm—the hard-won ability of a veteran to find sanctuary in any available gap of time.

  Ronen moved quietly toward the door. New planks had been nailed across the frame, crooked but sturdy. Wolf’s handiwork. They weren't just meant to keep out the wind; they were meant to keep out everything else.

  Ronen pushed aside the makeshift barrier and stepped into the grey, uncertain light.

  Morning mist hung like damp gauze between the houses and the skeletal trees, swirling in slow, ghostly currents. Within that mist stood a figure. Vivian was dressed only in a thin vest, one hand braced against the frozen earth, the other tucked behind her back. Her body was coiled like a drawn bow, her breath blooming into thick white plumes in the frigid air.

  "Oh? You’re awake too?" She had heard him. She straightened slowly and turned, a half-smile playing on her lips as her gaze lingered on his face. "Up early. Looking for a morning drill?"

  "You’re one to talk, Sister Vivian," Ronen replied, his voice still carrying the gravel of sleep.

  "Habit. Soldiers rot if they lie still for too long." She rolled her shoulders, her joints popping with a series of sharp, rhythmic cracks.

  When her eyes settled on him again, they held something new—a sharp, predatory glint of combat intent. "How was the rest?"

  "Good enough." Ronen stretched his arms, feeling the tension radiating from her. She was like a blade halfway out of its sheath.

  "Good." Vivian’s smile deepened. She stepped forward, her left foot sliding back as her center of gravity dropped. Her right hand reached out while her left hovered near her waist—a clean, lethal opening stance.

  "You showed some decent footwork last night. More fluid than the meatheads I used to train with in the army." Her voice carried a mix of genuine appreciation and blatant provocation. "How about another round? Just to wake the blood."

  Ronen’s eyelids flickered. A phantom ache throbbed in his gut—a physical memory of their last encounter. It was a ghost that haunted his muscles... perhaps even a demon in his mind.

  He let out a long, slow breath, purging the clutter from his thoughts. He couldn't afford to let one defeat turn into a permanent fear. That would be the true demon.

  Countless people would kill for a chance at a rematch, and here was Vivian, offering her expertise for free. It was an opportunity he couldn't waste. And while he had lost before, he knew she wasn't invincible.

  He inhaled the icy air, mirrored her stance, and let his gaze settle into a steady, focused calm.

  "Very well. I look forward to your guidance."

  They locked eyes, their gazes as clear and sharp as steel reflecting off snow. The mist flowed silently between them.

  In that breathless moment, just before the strike—

  Creeeeeak.

  The door swung open. Zoe stepped out, stretching her arms and rubbing her eyes with a massive yawn. "Ugh... it’s so cold..." She blinked, her voice trailing off. "Good morning... is today..."

  Her words died in her throat.

  Her gaze drifted downward, slowly and clumsily, until it landed on the twisted, frost-covered corpse lying on the ground.

  Time seemed to freeze.

  Then—

  A piercing scream shattered the morning silence, tearing through the mist and snapping the tension of the duel.

  "AHHHHHH!! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?!"

  The girl’s shriek ripped through the air, breaking the stillness and ending the morning drill before it could even begin.

  The monster’s corpse had been dragged into the center of the main hall, a grotesque shadow that dominated everyone’s vision. They sat in a circle, the air thick and stagnant, broken only by the occasional pop of firewood in the hearth.

  Ronen rubbed his ear; the echo of Zoe’s scream still seemed to vibrate in his skull. He recounted the previous night’s encounter, his gaze drifting over each face before settling on Zoe. He felt a pang of silent irony: the monster hadn't left a scratch on him, but the girl’s lungs had left his hearing ringing.

  Vivian rubbed her own ear, though her expression remained stoic. She and Wolf had already seen the creature; they were unmoved by its ugliness. Emma sat with her hands clasped, her face an unreadable mask. Her background in the Enforcement Squad had clearly prepared her for the sight of the abnormal.

  Professor Ethan’s brow was furrowed, his eyes behind his spectacles scanning the corpse with the clinical precision of a scalpel. Mark, conversely, was leaning forward, his eyes bright with a feverish, almost manic excitement, as if he were looking at a masterpiece rather than a horror.

  Zoe and Mary were huddled together in the furthest corner. Zoe had shrunk into a ball, yet her eyes were drawn to the corpse like a moth to a flame. "Is it... is it really dead? It won't... jump up, will it? It won't bite me?"

  Mary seemed to be holding up better than her friend. Though fear was written plainly on her face, the diligent apprentice was already lost in thought, trying to piece together the creature’s origin and what its presence meant for their mission.

  The two observers from the Library, Shen and Jiu, remained as detached as ever. Jiu had even produced a notebook and was quietly recording the scene, the scratch of his pen on the paper sounding unnervingly loud in the silence.

  "So, your theory is that this... thing... was once a villager of Dragonwood?" Ethan broke the silence, his tone laced with skepticism.

  "It’s just a guess, Master," Wolf replied. "We’ve only just arrived. We don't know the full story yet. We need more data."

  "Do you believe this is connected to our objective?" Ethan pressed.

  "Hard to say," Wolf shook his head. "The Eye of the Blizzard is close. We know the tower has gone dark and the researchers are missing. For all we know, these monsters are the researchers we’re looking for."

  Wolf sighed. "The tragedy is that we can't confirm its identity. The only way I can think of is to have the villagers look at its clothes—see if anyone recognizes the weave."

  "But based on our reception yesterday," Ronen added, "the villagers aren't exactly in a cooperative mood."

  "I believe we should maintain our focus on the tower," Ethan countered. "Strange things have happened on the road, yes, but until we see the state of the Eye of the Blizzard with our own eyes, these are just baseless conjectures. We should confirm the tower first, then investigate the rest."

  Ethan glanced at the twisted body on the floor. "Our mission must take priority. I have no desire to be distracted by side-shows. Delaying our progress for the sake of a local anomaly would be... unwise."

  "Wait... wait a minute!"

  Zoe’s trembling voice cut through the heavy air. She gripped the hem of her cloak so hard her knuckles turned white.

  "Are you saying... that the mages in the tower... they’ve all turned into... that?" Her pupils shrank as her gaze darted frantically between the corpse and the group. "And we’re supposed to go into a tower full of those things?"

  Wolf blinked, looking slightly helpless. He leaned toward Ronen and whispered, "Did I... did I actually say that?"

  Mary quickly tugged on Zoe’s sleeve, her voice soft but firm. "You’re misunderstanding. Mr. Wolf said it was a possibility. Just a possibility!"

  "And look—" Mary pointed toward the tattered, coarse burlap rags clinging to the corpse. "A mage wouldn't wear that. Those aren't robes."

  Zoe stared at the corpse for several long seconds, confirming the roughness of the fabric. Her shoulders slumped slightly. "But... but this isn't what I expected..." Her voice was thin, trailing off into a mix of resentment and lingering fear. "My mercenary friends told me that investigation jobs were simple. You go to a place, look around, write it down, and go home. They never said anything about... this."

  She looked up suddenly, her eyes wide with a desperate flicker of hope. "So... can we just go to the tower, take one look to confirm they're gone, and then leave? Right?"

  "You think a simple stroll is worth fifty gold sovereigns?" Wolf let out a cold, mirthless snort. "Little girl, you have a very poor understanding of the mercenary trade."

  Ronen stepped in, his voice steady as he tried to explain the reality of their situation.

  "An investigation means getting to the bottom of the situation. We are the vanguard. The Guild and the client need a comprehensive report so they can plan the next phase. If there are monsters, they need to know the threat level, the numbers, and the resources required to cull them. If we just peek and run, we’ve provided nothing of value. The Lapsus Circle doesn't pay for 'nothing'."

  "Then... then how far do we have to go?"

  "For this mission," Wolf said with finality, "we don't necessarily have to find the missing mages, but we must find the definitive cause of their disappearance."

  His gaze fell back to the twisted shape on the floor. "And if it’s connected to this—then we need to know what it is, where it came from, and how it happened."

  "So..." Zoe’s face grew even paler, her lips trembling. "No matter what... we can't avoid these monsters?"

  "That remains to be seen. That’s why we investigate," Wolf said, his tone flat.

  Zoe suddenly covered her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. "I... I don't want to do this anymore! This is too dangerous! It’s freezing, and we have to deal with... these things. This is wrong! Everyone told me investigation was the easiest path!"

  She looked around the room, searching for a single nod of agreement. But she found only calm, rational, and slightly judgmental stares.

  "Zoe..." Mary whispered, reaching for her friend’s hand.

  Zoe turned to her like a drowning person grabbing a piece of driftwood. "You feel it too, don't you? We’re just apprentices, Mary! Why are we suddenly fighting monsters that shouldn't even exist?"

  "Zoe," Mary’s voice was quiet but clear. "I... I already fought two of those bear-creatures in the cave yesterday." She paused, looking pained but resolute. "I think... I think this is just what the job is. Maybe you just had the wrong idea from the start."

  Zoe stared at Mary as if seeing her childhood friend for the first time. Her face was a mask of shock and betrayal.

  "It seems our young lady lacks the necessary resolve," Wolf said, his voice turning icy. "Did you truly think this was a holiday tour?" His patience was evaporating, his tone dropping to sub-zero temperatures.

  "Enough. we don't have time to play house with a spoiled brat." Wolf stood up, his shadow falling over Zoe’s pale face. "Now, we need to decide our next move!"

  "I want out!" Zoe snapped, standing up and shoving Mary’s hand away. Her voice was shrill. "If I had known it would be like this, I never would have come!"

  She rushed to Mark’s side, grabbing his arm with trembling fingers. "Uncle, let’s go... please. It’s too dangerous here."