The Forest Watches

Edward caught Michelle just in time, his right hand gripping her slender frame before she could collapse altogether. The sudden weight against him was light yet unsettling. He carefully dragged her toward the bed, feeling the heat radiating from her fevered skin. Her breathing was erratic, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and her face slick with sweat—starkly contrasting her usual composed demeanor.

He didn't expect this. Not from her. Gently lowering her onto the mattress, he propped her up before rushing to grab a flask of water from the table nearby. Michelle stirred slightly as her eyelids fluttered, but she didn't resist when he helped her take a small sip. As the cool liquid passed her lips, her breath gradually steadied, the worst of her paleness fading.

Edward observed her over the next half hour. Each passing moment eased his tension, not because he genuinely cared for her but because he needed her to understand some things. Her trembling subsided, and her feverish complexion began to return to normal. When she finally opened her eyes, consciousness fully returning, he leaned forward. "What happened?" he asked, placing the water flask back on the wooden table.

Michelle exhaled slowly, her voice hoarse. "Mana deficiency. Don't worry, it happens sometimes." A weak cough escaped her lips as she sank further into the bed, adjusting the blanket over herself.

The room fell into silence. Only the distant murmurs of soldiers and apprentices outside the infirmary broke the stillness. Edward felt an awkward tension settle over him. Although he wasn't interrogating her, it felt like it.

"Rest well. I'll go get someone qualified."

He stood, turning toward the door, but before he could step out, a faint mumble reached his ears.

"Wait… There's something important." 

Michelle slowly opened her eyes, locking onto his with a determined gaze despite her weakened state.

"I'll be fine in an hour. This is common. I just overused my mana." Her voice was steadier now, though exhaustion still clung to it.

"Listen closely." After stiffening slightly, he braced himself, waiting for the information.

"The backup's arrival was scheduled for today," she continued, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. "But I received a report from the Capital half an hour ago that something went wrong. The supply caravan was attacked, and connection lost."

"The remaining werewolves." Edwards's words cut through the air. That was pretty obvious. Considering the strength of halfturned werewolves, it was not hard to imagine what a group of normal ones could achieve.

Michelle gave a weak nod. "It needs immediate action. Don't waste time—go." Her eyelids fluttered shut once again, but her voice stayed strong. "We will talk about the Runes once you return."

Edward didn't argue. The urgency in her voice confirmed that she wouldn't say this unless it were dire. Rising, he turned toward the door and stepped out into the corridor. He flagged down an assistant and ordered him to take care of Michelle. Without wasting another second, he strode down the hallway with his destination clear.

"The backup got attacked," Edward thought, his steps steady as he made his way toward the training grounds. Given everything he had seen since waking up in this world, it didn't surprise him at all. If anything, it felt predictable.

It was not the attack, but Commander Richard and Michelle's unspoken intentions occupied his mind.

Since his teenage years, Edward has come to understand the harsh truths of human nature. Everyone he has met outside his family—regardless of how kind, righteous, or honorable they seem—is always pursuing something. Some seek power, others chase wealth, and many desire control. Even acts of kindness often carry a cost. People frequently leverage one another for emotional relief, personal advantage, or influence.

That was a fact. And so, as he walked, his mind worked. 'What benefit does Richard and Michelle see in me?' A one-handed soldier with no memories should have been disposable—a burden, not an asset. Yet Michelle entrusted him with critical information, and Richard kept him close. Why? Understanding their motives would give him an edge, a bargaining chip for the future. He could control how much he gave in return if he could determine what they expected from him.

Negotiations were not just about words—they were about leverage.

And Edward intended to have the upper hand.

***

Before Edward stepped onto the training grounds, a striking scene unfolded. Beneath the bright glare of the sun, more than a dozen warriors moved with relentless precision, their swords carving through the air in disciplined arcs. Blades sang with each strike, their edges glinting with each horizontal and vertical motion. The rhythmic sound of steel slicing through space merged with the dull thuds of footwork on hardened dirt, a testament to their dedication.

Among them, one figure stood apart. A knight with pale green hair, his stance unshaken and his strikes fluid—Rodrig. Even before the siege of Emberhold, his name carried weight among the order. He moved with an elegance honed by years of experience, each swing deliberate and each breath regulated.

Since Commander Richard was not around, Edward asked Rodrig about his whereabouts. As he approached, his gaze drifted to Rodrigo's hands. His palms were rough, covered in scars and calluses, the kind that only came from years of discipline. Their eyes met, and to Edward's surprise, Rodrig greeted him with a smile."Edward, right? I heard about you from the Commander. What brings you here?""Edward got straight to the point. "I'm looking for him. Michelle sent me. It's important."Rodrig's smile faded as his expression shifted, sharpening like a blade drawn from its sheath."Don't stop the training, soldiers. Your efforts won't betray you on the battlefield!" His voice rang out, firm but not unkind."YES!" The soldiers responded in unison, their voices shaking the air.Rodrig turned toward the castle walls, signaling for Edward to follow. Minutes later, they reached the top. From here, Edward could see the expanse of the battlefield below—the treetops shifting under the wind, shadows stretching under the afternoon sun. Further down the wall, Commander Richard stood motionless, his back turned to them.He was watching the forest.Something was unsettling about the way he stood. His posture was tense, his broad shoulders slightly hunched as if weighed down by the situation. Edward paused, observing that Richard was not merely gazing at the forest but examining it closely.The sound of their footsteps made the Commander turn. Just for a moment, his face looked worn, heavy with exhaustion, and something more profound—regret? Worry? But in the blink of an eye, it was gone. He straightened, his expression returning to one of quiet authority."What happened?" His voice was steady, but Edward knew he already expected terrible news.Rodrig answered first. "The boy has a message from Michelle.""Leave us."Rodrig glanced at Edward before disappearing down the staircase."Now, tell me."Edward leaned slightly against the stone railing. "It's about the backup. It looks like they were attacked in the forest by Werewolves."The Commander sighed, his eyes flickering back toward the treetops. "No wonder. But I had hoped the Capital would send at least a few Star-Knights to secure the supply line. This isn't good. We don't have much left."He fell silent for a moment, his fingers idly tracing the worn stone of the wall. "We won't last until the next supply shipment. The Capital is too far. We have four days of supplies, at best."He exhaled, deep and slow. "That's all she said?"Looking back at the forest, Edward answered."She said they were close," he answered.Richard nodded, his thoughts already shifting toward solutions. "How is she?""Better. Resting now.""Good," the Commander said, almost absently. Then, his gaze settled on Edward, sharper than before. "We'll need her help explaining the Runes to you."Edward felt it that moment—the confirmation of his suspicion. They needed something from him. Nothing came without a price. No information, no guidance, nothing. He wasn't just here to survive—he was a piece of their strategy. But why?His mind ran through the possibilities. There was only one logical course of action: They had to retrieve the caravan. Four days was insufficient time to prepare for an evacuation, so Richard must have already decided. The best solution was to send a small team of skilled fighters into the forest to recover what they could.But it was a risk. No one knew how many werewolves lurked below, and their silence in recent days was suspicious.It's a double-edged sword. That's what It was. Going out there could mean death in the hands of the overwhelming count of enemies while staying meant starvation to death. 'How nice...' ironically thought Edward as he clenched his jaw. He wasn't sure what was more dangerous—the beasts in the forest or the expectations the Commander had placed on him.For a moment, neither of them spoke.The wind swept softly over the walls, carrying the scent of sun-warmed stone and distant trees. As the afternoon light shifted, shadows stretched across the castle grounds, and golden rays danced along the edges of Edward's vision.Richard stood still, his gaze lingering on the treetops. The silence wasn't just an absence of words—it was a pause heavy with thought. Then, after what felt like minutes, he finally spoke."We have to prepare." His voice was steady, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.He turned slightly, looking at Edward with an unreadable yet firm expression. "We'll put together a team. Retrieve whatever's left."A short pause followed by a dry chuckle."You don't seem to be surprised.""That's the best decision, in my opinion, too," Edward said, his voice steady.Richard gave a slight nod. Without another word, they turned, descending from the walls and heading toward the training grounds.The preparations began immediately.The Commander moved purposefully, calling forth the most capable soldiers. Rodrig took the lead, his presence sharp and commanding as the handpicked warriors gathered around him. Discussions began about strategies, formations, and contingency plans. Every detail had to be accounted for.The plan took shape quickly.Commander Richard would lead from the front, taking on the most significant threat himself. He was the only one capable of slaying a werewolf in direct combat. That much was clear. But even he couldn't be everywhere at once. Rodrig commanded the rest, ensuring the formation held firm while Richard was in battle.Edward paid close attention, taking in every detail. His name was announced, and he found himself among the group. He anticipated this moment. Surprisingly, it didn't catch him off guard. A part of him even experienced a sense of satisfaction.Being on this mission meant more than just fighting—it meant opportunity. If the werewolves were the ones that ambushed the supply caravan, then there had to be traces left behind. Something valuable. Maybe even a clue about the Runes. Or, more importantly, about how to get back to Earth.Edward clenched his jaw. This wasn't just about survival anymore.***They would set out at sunrise—the most rational choice.The light of dawn would grant them visibility, and the cold morning air would keep exhaustion at bay. It was the safest time to move, yet even as preparations were finalized, unease settled over the group as if the forest knew their plans.Edward couldn't shake the feeling of excitement and fear. The hope of possibly returning to Earth was strong, especially in the last days.The trees stood silent in the distance, their dark silhouettes barely swaying in the afternoon breeze. The stars above started to become visible, undisturbed, but the forest remained unnaturally still. There was not a single rustle, howl, or even the chirp of an insect, as if it were waiting for them.As Edward turned his gaze back to the towering treetops, for the briefest moment, he thought he saw something move—something with glowing eyes. That made Edward smirk lightly.The battle for the survival of Emberhold was about to begin.