The search had dragged into its seventh day, yet not a single trace of the creature called Meteor had been found. The forest felt endless—each direction already marked with red X's on Connor's map, a web of failure spreading wider with every step.
Everyone was exhausted. The wind carried only the scent of grass and beasts, not of monsters. Lanius reported nothing unusual from above, and Whifney's attempts to sense magic ended with a faint laugh, as though she too had lost patience. Even Anastasia, once full of dramatic energy, now leaned heavily on Myael's arm, her steps slow and trembling.
Connor sighed. His mind wavered between pushing on and retreating. They could rest here, but it would change nothing. If they returned to the village empty-handed, the disappointment in the villagers' eyes would say everything.
He muttered that he had never wanted to be a leader in the first place.
Then, without warning, a shadow fell from above. Lanius crashed down, wings folding as he landed heavily before Connor. Mud splattered across the ground.
Connor barely avoided it and groaned, but Lanius spoke quickly, his tone firm.
"Emergency. Meteor detected."
Those words cut through the fatigue like lightning. For the first time in days, every head turned toward him.
"Where?" Connor demanded. "How far? What type?"
"Northwest. Four hundred meters. Hound type. Single creature. Returning to its nest after hunting."
It was the first real lead they had in seven days—and possibly their only one.
Connor's heart beat faster, though doubt crept in. Was this safe? He called inward to Kyle, the regressor spirit within him, seeking an answer. The response was hesitant. Problems might arise later, but there was no stopping now. Connor exhaled sharply.
He raised his voice, commanding the group to move. They would tail the beast and end this long, dragging search.
Three Hours Later
The group followed the creature's faint trail through tangled brush and uneven slopes until they found its den. The ground dipped sharply into a low basin hidden beneath thick branches. Even from above, it would have looked like part of the forest floor.
Lanius scanned through his scope. "Thirty-one individuals," he said flatly.
Connor's eyes narrowed. So the nest was far from empty. The others tensed behind him. Lug growled, half-shifted into his wolf form, ready to strike out of frustration.
Connor shook his head. "Not yet. We don't know how many are still outside. If we rush in, the rest will swarm us."
Lug's ears drooped in apology, and Connor continued calmly. "We'll observe for a day. No Meteor leaves its nest for more than twenty-four hours. We'll take turns keeping watch."
The group accepted the plan without complaint. After receiving a silent nod from the professor, Connor divided the tasks. Lug and Myael built a small, silent camp. Whifney created a faint magical barrier to hide their presence. Anastasia, though eager, was too weak to help, so Connor stationed her beside Lanius to "keep watch."
She nodded proudly, sat beside the armored man—and fell asleep twenty seconds later, her small head resting against his shoulder.
Night Watch
Hours passed. The forest was silent except for the chirping of insects and the faint rustle of leaves. The Meteors slept soundly in their hollow. The count had risen to forty-two, but there was no other movement.
Connor rubbed his tired eyes. His water bottle was gone. When he lifted his head, he saw Myael standing under the moonlight, holding it with a soft smile.
"Looking for this?" the young noble asked.
He wasn't due to take over the shift yet, but he said he wanted to talk. Connor sighed, uneasy about that kind of tone.
"What is it?" he asked.
Myael's expression didn't change. "It's about something Kurhan told me—a rumor spreading around the academy."
Connor froze mid-sip. The name alone made his shoulders stiffen. Myael's next words made his heart nearly stop.
"People say you and I share… an unusual relationship."
Connor almost choked on the water. Inside his mind, Kyle groaned in disbelief. That meddling dragon, Kurhan, had apparently been gossiping again.
Trying to recover, Connor stammered, "W-why would that kind of rumor spread?"
Myael tilted his head, eyes calm. "I can't think of a reason. Even if I join your group, take the same classes, and… have a crush on you, it shouldn't be seen that way."
The night air froze. Connor's mind went blank, his thoughts scattering like sparks from a campfire. The words have a crush echoed in his ears again and again.
Before he could respond, a low voice broke the tension.
"Are you keeping watch properly?"
Professor Master Muscle's shadow loomed nearby, his tone heavy but quiet. Connor shot up straight. Myael greeted him politely, claiming he couldn't sleep because of the bright moon. The professor's eyes softened for a moment, then turned to Connor.
"Connor McCloud," he said. "I have something to discuss with you, Leader."
When Myael returned to camp, Connor sat beside the professor in silence. The man's massive frame seemed to swallow the night itself. The fireless air between them grew heavy until, finally, the professor spoke.
"Connor," he asked quietly, "have you ever seen someone close to you die?"
The words fell like stones into still water—quiet, but carrying weight enough to shake the soul.
And in that moment, beneath the pale moon and whispering leaves, the silence of the seventh day deepened.