Edge of Understanding

Dawn broke over the camp. The first light of the twin suns pierced through the purple sky, painting it blue—the same deep blue that the soldiers had always known. Their world may have changed, but the color remained familiar.

Bogi woke naturally, as he always did—before the commotion, before the calls to rise. And the moment his eyes opened, he felt it.

A weight. A presence. A pressure that hadn't been there before—or perhaps, one that had always been there but had only now revealed itself to him. It wasn't something he could see, yet he knew, without a doubt, that someone stood just outside his tent.

His voice, though low from just waking, was steady. "Who's there?"

Silence for half a second, then— "It's me. Lazar."

Bogi exhaled, rising to his feet. His movements felt sharper, quieter—more in tune with the world. He pushed aside the tent flap, and for a moment, everything became unnervingly clear.

His green-brown eyes locked onto Lazar, and that's when he truly understood.

Something radiated from his friend—not something visible, but something felt. It pulsed around him, distinct yet intangible. Bogi hadn't noticed it before, but now this strange, instinctive awareness told him exactly what it was. Aura.

And somehow, it made sense. Lazar's aura reflected him—strong, steady, rough around the edges yet unwavering. It wasn't something that could be seen, only felt. Bogi's gaze drifted beyond Lazar, scanning the camp.

The guards stationed a few hundred meters away stood at their posts, as they always did. Yet now, Bogi could sense them just as clearly as he saw them. They had auras too—fainter, weaker. Was it skill? Instinct? Something else entirely?

Lazar's voice broke through his thoughts. "You alright?" He sounded wary, as if something about Bogi unsettled him. Bogi blinked, his focus snapping back. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just… different."

Lazar inhaled sharply. He had felt it the moment he laid eyes on Bogi—a shift, a pressure, something wrong. Not in the way an enemy felt wrong, but something that sent a primal warning through his instincts. It was almost like staring at the panther from yesterday. Not as intense. Not as overwhelming. But still there. Still dangerous.

For a moment, it was as if his captain—his friend for years—was someone else. Stronger. Deadlier.

Lazar forced himself to shake it off.

"Oliver ordered everyone to gather, but he asked me to call you personally. Not in his usual commanding tone—more like an invitation. He said we need to talk. Michael, Ogar, and Zeke are getting the others. We've got thirty minutes."

Bogi studied Lazar's expression. There was hesitation in his voice, and something else—unease. He hadn't felt this presence yesterday. But now, he did. And the fact that he hadn't noticed before made it worse.

"What's this about?" Lazar finally asked. He had received no answers last night. Now, with this unsettling feeling gnawing at his chest, he wasn't sure if he wanted them.

Bogi exhaled, crossing his arms. "I have changed. And so has Oliver. But his change… it affected him differently. It nearly clouded his judgment yesterday, and I had to keep him in check before the situation escalated." His gaze darkened. "Even I don't fully understand what's happening to me. But I know this—"

His voice dropped, steady and resolute.

"Everything will become clear soon."

As Lazar processed Bogi's words, the sounds of movement rippled through the camp.

Zeke, Ogar, and Michael moved swiftly between the tents, waking the soldiers and ordering them to get dressed and assemble at the camp's center. Oliver had something important to say.

As the soldiers gathered, Oliver was already waiting, his arms clasped behind his back, scanning each soldier one by one as they arrived. His sharp blue eyes lingered on certain individuals, evaluating them carefully.

Once everyone had assembled, Zeke and Ogar stepped up behind him, standing as his silent pillars of command. Across from them, Michael waited—not with Oliver, but separate, his stance clear. He would listen to orders, but he would not stand beside Oliver if his captain was not present.

And then, Bogi came into view, Lazar in tow.

Bogi's gaze swept over the gathered soldiers, his expression unreadable. His eyes lingered on the members of the attack squad, scanning them one by one, assessing, gauging. Then his focus shifted—to Zeke, to Ogar, and finally, to Oliver.

For a moment, he held Oliver's gaze. And in that instant, he knew. Oliver was sane.

Not like yesterday. Not like the reckless, power-drunk commander he had feared would lose control. The tension in Bogi's chest eased just slightly, and he exhaled, the smallest sigh of relief escaping him. He had prepared for the worst. Instead, he had gotten the best outcome.

Without hesitation, he gave Oliver a simple nod—a signal to begin. But Oliver didn't address the soldiers. Instead, he spoke directly to Bogi. "I know you felt it," Oliver said, his voice carrying across the field. "And I know you still feel it. They can't—but we can."

His words were steady, certain.

"This is something new. I called them all here so we could pick the best for the scouting squad—but also so we could see everyone's strength. Because that's how I see it now… as strength. And now I see it—" His eyes narrowed slightly, his voice lowering just a fraction. "You and I are the same. Neither of us is even a fraction stronger than the other."

When he finished, he expected a response. But at first, he got nothing. Bogi stared at him—not with his usual sharp intensity, not with calculation. Just blank. Cold. Silent. Then, after a second, something shifted.

The green-brown eyes that had been void of emotion sharpened, laced with something colder, something more decisive. "I see…" Bogi finally said, his voice calm, measured.

Then, without another word, he turned his gaze back to the assembled soldiers. His eyes moved across them, assessing, choosing.

"The new scouting squad will be Roki, Luke, Rashid, Nikolai, Peter, Edric, Tomas, and Sergei."

He turned back to Oliver, his decision final. For a split second, Oliver was caught off guard—not by the choices themselves, but by Bogi's speed, his clarity. His certainty. But his surprise quickly turned into something else—satisfaction. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Then I will name the squad that will collect water regularly," Oliver said, his tone lighter, as if the weight of the conversation had shifted. "Since we've secured the perimeter, we need a reliable team."

His eyes flicked across the soldiers before him.

"Olek, Ogar, Gregor, Samir, Mane, Vadim, Kaspar, Michael, Rene. This will be your responsibility."

Bogi nodded. "Can we say that we've secured it?" Oliver let out a short laugh. "Even if we hadn't before, with this squad, we have now." Bogi's gaze returned to the remaining soldiers. "That leaves the base defense team. They may not be the strongest, but with only one way in, they won't need to be."

His voice carried with authority as he listed the names.

"Tahir, Dante, Corvin, Felix, Matthias, Rene, Nikolai, Edric, Viper. You are in charge of base defense."

Oliver gave a firm nod, pleased with the final structure. Only four men remained now. Himself. Bogi. Two sub-captains. His smirk deepened. They would make a great kill squad if they ever needed one.

As the reality of the assignments settled, a noticeable shift spread through the gathered soldiers. They exhaled. Tension they hadn't even realized they were holding finally released.

They had expected something worse. Some had braced themselves for orders they did not want to follow. But instead, they had been given structure. Purpose. Clarity. Bogi's voice cut through the murmurs. "Should we discuss the details now in the tent?" he asked Oliver. Oliver glanced at him, then at the soldiers, satisfied with the outcome.

"Dismissed."

Bogi nodded. Without another word, they turned toward the command tent.

As they entered the tent, this time, Bogi was the first to step inside, Lazar and Michael following closely behind. Oliver came in next, with Zeke and Ogar bringing up the rear. The atmosphere inside was different from last night—more composed, but still carrying an unspoken tension.

Bogi turned to Oliver, his expression unreadable, before letting out a dry chuckle. "Gotta admit, you can screw things up and then fix them. Not bad, huh?" His tone was laced with sarcasm, but the irritation behind it was unmistakable. It wasn't Bogi's usual way of speaking—but after last night, it was expected.

Oliver took it in stride. He exhaled, calm, and simply responded, "I tried." It wasn't an excuse. It wasn't even an explanation. It was the truth. And Bogi understood.

That was enough. No need for apologies—they were grown men with their own pride. Neither expected the other to say it aloud.

Moving on, Bogi shifted gears. "The scouting squad should leave quickly so they can be in the field before the water supply squad." His tone returned to business, focused. "The rest of the uniforms were dyed last night, so they'll blend in. But now, we face another problem."

He glanced at Oliver.

"We don't have weapons for everybody."

Oliver nodded, already considering the best course of action. "The plasma blades—we should assign four to the scouting squad. If they run into trouble, they'll have a way to fight back. Every scout should also carry at least a pistol. They can make their own arrangements from there."

Bogi crossed his arms, listening.

"As for the water supply squad," Oliver continued, "we can afford to leave them half-armed. It's not ideal, but at least at first, they'll be near the scouting squad, which should offer enough security. And the rest of the weapons…" He exhaled. "Should be left in the camp for defense."

Bogi considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Agreed."

He leaned slightly against the table, his gaze flickering toward the corner of the tent as he thought. "That should be all for now… Though, we should be getting some knives soon. I gave the panther's claws to Dante and Corvin—see if they can make something useful out of them. Those things were sharp."

Oliver gave a single, firm nod. "Good." Bogi and Oliver then turned to their sub-captains, speaking in unison. "Any questions?"

Zeke, Ogar, Michael, and Lazar exchanged glances before shaking their heads.

No questions.

They understood the plan.

With that, the meeting was done.