Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece

The tent was quiet except for the soft rustle of canvas and the low murmur of the wind outside.

Kyle sat cross-legged on the hard ground. Rubbing at his sore arms.

Every muscle throbbed with dull pain. The kind that came after a fight that lasted too long.

His shirt was stuck to his back with dried sweat, and the faint sting of half-healed cuts still pulsed beneath his sleeves.

But they were alive.

Barely.

The others had settled around the tent, each wrapped in their own silence.

Cassian leaned back against one of the support posts. His injured leg stretched out in front of him.

His chest rose and fell slowly, and he had a look on his face like he was listening to something far away.

Cedric sat with his sword laid flat across his lap. He wasn't moving much.

But his eyes stayed sharp, scanning the room now and then.

Serena stood near the flap, arms crossed. One foot tapping softly against the ground.

Her gaze flicked out through the small slit in the tent. Watching the camp like she didn't trust it.

The two newcomers were seated closer to the lantern at the back of the tent.

Lena had her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms resting lazily on top of them.

She looked more tired than hurt. The kind of tired that sat in the bones, deeper than sleep could fix.

Beside her sat Rook. He was taller, broader in the shoulders, but quiet.

His leg had been hastily bandaged, and blood still soaked through the cloth in patches.

But he didn't complain or groan. His halberd was propped up behind him, untouched.

The lantern light cast soft shadows across their faces, making the space feel smaller than it was.

Kyle finally spoke, his voice low. "So. You said you two aren't from here?"

Lena lifted her head slowly, her expression hard to read. "Yeah," she said after a pause.

"We don't know how we ended up here. One second we were at our base. The real world. It was just another day. Then... everything went dark."

She shook her head slightly. Like trying to chase away the memory.

"When I woke up, I was in a field. Fog everywhere. Couldn't see more than a few feet."

Rook nodded, his voice rough. "Same for me. Woke up with a screen floating in front of my face. Looked like some kind of system prompt.

"Said something about choosing a side. Kill the enemy commander to survive."

He paused, jaw tightening.

"But before I could do anything, they came. Red Knights. No warning, no time. Just blades swinging. We fought. Barely got out."

Cedric tilted his head slightly. "So you didn't pick the Red side?"

Rook snorted. "Didn't get the chance."

Kyle studied them for a moment. Their armor wasn't like the others in the camp.

Sleek. Light. Flexible. More tactical than traditional. Modern. Definitely from outside this world.

He sighed and nodded slowly. "We had something similar. One moment we were in a academy exam. The next, dropped into the middle of this mess."

Cassian cracked one eye open and muttered, "Yeah. Surprise field trip to hell."

No one laughed.

Cedric finally spoke. His voice calm and even. "You're inside the Black Dungeon."

Lena blinked. "The what?"

"This isn't just a dungeon with monsters and traps. It's... something else," Cedric said.

"It creates whole environments. Scenarios. Like a world inside a cage. But it's real enough to hurt you. Real enough to kill you."

He looked at them both. "That war you saw out there? All of it's part of the scenario. The screaming soldiers. The blood. The dying."

"We don't know if they are illusions, memories, or real people caught in the same nightmare."

Rook's brow furrowed. "So we are stuck in a story?"

Cedric nodded once. "Yes. And to get out. We have to follow its rules. Or break them. But either way, it won't let us go easy."

Lena exhaled shakily. "Great."

A silence settled over them again. Heavy. No one seemed to know what to say.

Finally, Kyle stood up, brushing the dust from his hands. His body protested the movement, joints creaking. But he ignored it.

"I'll go talk to the Commander," he said. "He needs to know about you two."

Rook started to speak, but Kyle held up a hand. "Don't worry. I won't tell him more than he needs to hear."

He glanced at Rook's leg. "You should head to the medic tent. Get that checked out properly. We might need everyone at full strength soon."

Rook nodded without protest. He slowly pushed himself up, gritting his teeth as he leaned on his good leg.

Lena was already on her feet, slipping under his arm to help.

"Thanks," she said softly.

Kyle just nodded.

Eleanora stood up beside him, brushing the dust from her knees with calm, practiced movements.

Her armor creaked softly, the buckles and straps shifting as she straightened.

"I'll go with you," she said, voice soft but steady.

Kyle didn't argue. He gave her a small glance. Then pushed the tent flap aside and stepped into the night.

The cold air hit them immediately.

Sharp and biting. It cut through the warmth of the tent like a blade.

The camp was quieter now.

The noise of battle had faded into a heavy silence, broken only by the soft crackle of dying fires and the low murmurs of exhausted soldiers.

The ground was uneven beneath their boots, turned to thick mud by the weight of too many footsteps and stained dark by blood.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

They walked side by side through the narrow paths between tents. The weight of what they had seen pressing down on their shoulders like a stone.

Kyle's thoughts were a mess. Flashes of lightning, burning metal, the roar of battle.

And that one image that wouldn't leave him.

The Red Commander standing at the edge of the pass, his sword glowing like a forge. The air around him warping from sheer heat.

It hadn't been a fight.

It had been a warning.

He let out a slow breath, his voice quiet. "I don't know how we are supposed to beat him."

Eleanora didn't answer right away. Her gaze stayed ahead, sharp but calm. Her hand rested near the hilt of her estoc, fingers lightly curled.

Then she spoke.

"You'll find a way."

Kyle looked at her. "You say that like you already know I will."

Eleanora glanced his way. Her expression was soft, not the usual cool distance. Not the soldier's mask she often wore. But something quieter.

"Because I do."

Kyle let out a short breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

"You are putting a lot of trust in someone who doesn't have a plan."

"I've put my trust in worse," she said lightly, a tiny curve touching the corner of her lips.

He gave her a side-eye. "That's comforting."

"You are still breathing, aren't you?"

Kyle chuckled under his breath. "Fair."

They walked on in silence for a few more steps. The lanterns lit their faces as they passed, golden light flickering over worn armor and tired eyes.

Kyle noticed how she moved. Balanced, precise. Not stiff like she was just pretending to be okay, but steady. Grounded.

He envied that a little.

He exhaled again. "I think we have seen enough to say one thing for sure."

Eleanora tilted her head.

"We can't beat the Red Commander head-on," Kyle said. "Not now. Not the way we are."

She didn't argue. Instead, she looked ahead again, her voice low.

"Then we don't fight him head-on."

Kyle raised a brow. "You think there's another way?"

"There's always another way," she said softly.

He didn't answer right away. The words made sense, but his mind still spun with doubt.

What kind of other way could there be?

But Eleanora's voice grounded him. She didn't speak like someone hoping things would work out.

She spoke like someone who already saw a path. Or believed one would appear.

He looked at her again. "You are awfully calm about all this."

She shrugged, but not casually. "If we start panicking now. We have already lost."

Kyle stared at her for a moment. Then a faint smile tugged at his mouth. "You're better at this war stuff than me."

"Maybe," she replied. "But I don't have your instincts."

Kyle snorted. "Pretty sure my instincts are just me guessing and hoping I don't die."

"Maybe," she said again. "But it works."

He didn't know what to say to that. So he said nothing.

They neared the Command tent.

Two Black Legion soldiers stood on either side of the entrance, faces half-shadowed by their helmets.

They didn't raise weapons or step forward. Just watched with tired, hollow eyes.

Kyle slowed his pace, looking at the heavy canvas flap.

He felt a weight settle in his chest. Not fear, not exactly. But the pressure of having to make decisions that might get people killed.

He felt Eleanora's hand brush his arm gently.

He turned to her.

"We'll figure it out," she said. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. But steady.

Kyle looked at her for a moment.

The flickering torchlight made her hair shimmer, and her eyes reflected something that wasn't doubt, wasn't fear.

Just quiet determination.

He nodded slowly.

Then they stepped inside.

———