Carried by Duty

The outpost was restless.

Wounded Knights lined the perimeter tents, medics rushing between them with salves, mana-restoration syringes, and bandages that glowed faintly from healing enchantments. The fire from last night in the village had dwindled to coals, but the tension had not.

Morning Departure

Colins stood near the central war table, eyes scanning dispatch parchments. His coat was dusted with ash and dried blood, but his voice was steady.

"Mailie," he said, glancing at the small group gathered before him.

Solis lay on a stretcher, still unconscious. Vaidya was seated on another, his left arm bandaged tightly, the bloodstains now a dull brown. Ada stood beside them — bruised, but upright. Stubbornly so.

"We're sending you all to Mailie for immediate care," Colins continued. "You'll be under Elizabeth's watch. That's a direct order."

Ada frowned slightly. "I can still fight."

Colins met her gaze. "You've already fought more than expected. Right now, I need you alive."

Ada didn't argue further.

Bronn approached, holding a sealed letter marked with Colins's insignia and a crimson wax crest.

"This is for Commander Cassandra," Colins said, handing it to him. "Tell her we need reinforcements. Units that can track, subdue, and sweep the edges of this territory. Our enemy may be defeated. But reconstruction of this place is the real challenge. Plus Postknight Razille is missing too. We need as much as units here that she can afford."

Bronn nodded. "I'll deliver it without delay." He opened a portal — the shimmer of Mailie's sigil visible in the vortex. "See you soon."

And with that, he stepped through.

Vaidya was next, assisted by a pair of medics. Ada followed close, sparing one last glance at the smoky sky before disappearing into the portal. Solis was wheeled through last.

Mailie's emblem flickered.

Then the portal closed.

---

The Search Begins

As the winds shifted, Colins turned to the remaining Knights.

"Layla. Kiro. You're staying here. Organize a rotating patrol. You'll work with the local D-Rank Postknights that were stationed here before our arrival. The mission is to find Postknight Razille."

Layla straightened. "Understood."

Kiro gave a quiet nod, his blades already sheathed but ready.

Selvine stepped forward, holding the wooden case that housed the now-dormant sword. Faint traces of containment runes still shimmered across its surface.

Colins approached her. "Take it to Caldemount. Use a Postknight scroll — keep it sealed and stabilized in transit. The scholars there will know how to handle this kind of artifact... or at least, I hope they do."

Selvine raised a brow, but gave a brief nod. "I'll leave within the hour."

She placed the case on the ground and unrolled a special scroll. As the parchment unfurled, its inscriptions lit up in spiraling script. The wooden case hovered slightly, then vanished into the scroll with a dim pulse. Selvine sealed the parchment with a magical tag and tucked it away.

Colins took a breath and looked to Karina.

"You're sure about this?"

Karina stood with her remaining followers — no longer combatants, just weary souls weighed by mistakes. Behind them, Hamad and his cultists were bound in enchanted cuffs and containment circles.

"We'll guard them," Karina said. "We owe you at least that much."

Colins gave a single nod. "We'll rotate supervision later, but for now… thank you."

She turned away, her expression unreadable.

---

Final Pages of Volume II

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and only ember-light clung to the clouds, Colins sat alone at the edge of the field. He finally allowed himself to breathe — not in relief, but reflection.

So much had changed.

A sword that nearly consumed its wielder.

A cult that was once a sanctuary.

A girl who surrendered not from defeat, but from accountability.

And a boy — a Postknight — who shouldered more than anyone ever should.

---

From a distance, Layla watched the wind pass over the empty battlefield, her thoughts on the friends now miles away.

Kiro approached silently. "You think he'll be okay?"

Layla crossed her arms. "He'll need time. But Solis always gets back up, at least that's what I heard it from the locals in Mailie. That's what makes him... him, they say."

And above them, in the dimming sky, a faint shimmer like a dragon's outline briefly coiled through the clouds — not real, not threatening. Just a whisper of power left behind.

The calm would not last.

But for now, duty was enough to hold them steady.