Chapter 17: A Variable left behind

KREG

I circled the man, watching for an opening, but he stood firm, his red eyes locked onto me with an unwavering glare. The dim light of the forest reflected off the blood on his blade, deepening his fierce aura. He wasn't just some soldier—his skill spoke for itself. A lieutenant by rank, but almost as strong as a major.

Then again, comparing our ranks to theirs was pointless.

As a Leyten, my power was equivalent to a lower-class major in their military. If I so much as blinked at the wrong moment, he'd have my head. But the same could be said for him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Aeon Elke. She remained still, analyzing him just as I was. If she wanted, she could end this in an instant. She was an Aeon, far beyond my rank.

The man suddenly spoke, his voice carrying through the shallow forest.

"I have only one question."

"You may speak, Wikesman." Lady Elke responded, arms crossed.

He didn't even spare me a glance. "Why would the Eukaphrotians attack us? Weren't we on good terms?"

"Times have changed. Boards and pieces turned." Her tone was sharp, decisive. "Now, how about you answer me, Wikesman? How did you know our location?"

His answer was surprisingly casual. "I was just walking around." Then his voice hardened. "And why would you force bandits to attack innocent people? Were you trying to find leads on Vestiron?"

Vestiron.

I barely murmured the name before I noticed Lady Elke stiffen.

"He's just a side threat," she said carefully. "The real concern is the organization backing him. They are the true danger—to both our nations. Wouldn't you rather join us in rooting them out?"

The man's expression became unreadable. He stepped forward, hands clenched.

"I am a Lieutenant of the National Army," he declared. "I'd like to hear more. Why would the Eukaphrotian Army sneak into our borders and orchestrate a bandit attack against innocent people? Explain, or I'll take your head to my king."

Lady Elke stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back.

"First, we didn't sneak in, Lieutenant. Your own generals led us here. We are cooperating to eliminate an organization that threatens both continents." Her voice was firm, unwavering. "But you... a platoon-less officer... attacking us without orders? That raises a question: Did your generals betray you? Or did they betray your nation? Which one is it?"

I listened closely, absorbing every word. Even I hadn't known this much. But something was off. She wasn't telling the full truth.

And the lieutenant knew it too.

His smirk was my only warning.

"That's enough information," he muttered—then he attacked.

Steel flashed, and before I could react, I was airborne. One of my daggers spun into the sky as his strike sent me reeling. But the fool ignored me, turning his back and charging straight for the commander.

Vestiron's spy.

I scowled as I twisted midair. What a half-assed bastard.

Before their swords could meet, something crashed down between them.

A blur shot from the sky, slamming into the ground with explosive force.

Aeon Platus.

Dust and leaves scattered as he straightened, his piercing gaze sweeping over the lieutenant, whose body froze in place. Was it shock? Fear?

Then—another figure descended.

No, he didn't descend—he floated.

A sudden pressure filled the air, suffocating and absolute.

A voice, deep and ageless, rang through the clearing.

"Brainless mortals."

The old man hovered fifteen feet above the ground, his gaze piercing through each of us. Even the lieutenant seemed to falter—his expression unreadable, but his body unmistakably tensed.

Aeon Platus moved first.

He lunged, but before he could strike—something struck him.

A blur collided with him, hurling him back with monstrous force. He crashed into the dirt, unmoving.

Lady Elke reacted instantly.

She shadow-dashed, closing the distance in a heartbeat. In the blink of an eye, she was beside Platus, her arms catching him before he hit the ground.

She turned her head—her eyes met mine.

Then, in a gust of wind—she was gone.

I remained.

Alone.

The two figures turned their eyes to me, their expressions unreadable. But I knew exactly what they were about to do.

Before I could even twitch a finger, the world around me lurched.

A sickening whirl—gravity vanished beneath me. I felt weightless yet heavy at the same time. I was still conscious inside, yet my body refused to respond. A dull coldness spread through my back as I hit the ground. Mud. Wet and freezing.

My vision blurred. The last thing I saw before darkness swallowed me was two figures.

But they weren't them.

They didn't belong to this battlefield.

This felt... like a dream.

One figure stood to my right—an old woman, her face shrouded in shadow, her presence eerily familiar. Beside her, a young man with long white hair, his battle robes stained with blood.

I didn't recognize him.

But the woman...

Mother.

No. That's impossible.

You died ten years ago. I was only seven. And I got over your death long ago. So why?

Why now?

Why are you coming back to me again?

"Kreg Jeviliar."

The young man's voice was soft, yet carried a peculiar weight—like an echo from another lifetime. His violet gaze locked onto mine as he reached out a bloodstained hand.

"We may have been cruel to the Void Table..." he murmured, "but fate brought us together for a reason. It was its way of showing cruelty to us."

Void Table?

His words slithered into my mind like an intoxicating spell.

"The fragments of your being are scattered, just like the Choros Artifact that gave you life ten years ago." His voice deepened, as though sinking into my very bones.

"You must... find yourself."

His hand inched closer.

"O' Variable."

I jolted awake.

Gasping. Drenched in sweat.

My heart pounded against my ribs, hammering so violently I thought it might burst.

A flickering candle cast trembling shadows across the prison walls. The wax dripped slowly—oozing like molten lava.

That dream...

It felt like I had lived through an eternity, yet it had only been a fleeting snap in time.

I swallowed hard, steadying my breath.

Then—a presence.

I wasn't alone.

A figure stood outside the prison cell, watching me.

My blood ran cold.

The old man.

He was here.

I scrambled upright, my chains rattling. "Wh-what do you want?!" My voice was hoarse, my throat raw. "I'll never betray my comrades to the likes of you!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "At ease, child." His tone was apathetic, like he had already decided my words were meaningless.

Then—his posture changed.

His rounded back straightened. His eyes sharpened, boring into me with a sudden, oppressive weight.

When he spoke again, his voice was like a decree.

"Fate is a funny thing."

He took a step forward, shadows twisting around him.

"To think you'd fall right into my hands...

Variable."