Chapter 32 — The Hunt That Began Too Late
The academy would not sleep.
Torches burned along every corridor long past curfew, their light casting elongated shadows that trembled against stone walls etched with old protective sigils. Boots echoed endlessly—military boots now—measured, disciplined, unforgiving. The air itself felt heavier, as though the weight of unanswered questions had settled into the foundations of the academy.
By midnight, the decision had already been made.
They would search.
They had no choice.
Inside the central war chamber—once a lecture hall for tactical theory—maps hovered in layered projections, Rift activity zones marked in red, orange, and black. The White Rift scar pulsed faintly at the center, unstable even in its collapse, as if refusing to fully close.
High Command officers stood shoulder to shoulder with academy instructors. No one sat.
At the head of the chamber, Commander Varek of the Eastern Military District rested his hands on the table, expression carved from iron.
"Nine missing cadets," he said evenly. "One of them unblessed. One of them possibly… compromised."
No one needed clarification on who he meant.
"Search radius?" an officer asked.
Varek's eyes flicked toward the Church delegation standing silently at the far end of the chamber.
"Expanded," said the Soul Examiner calmly. "Beyond standard recovery range."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"That's suicide," an instructor snapped. "Secondary Rift zones are unstable. Some haven't been charted in decades."
"And yet," the Examiner replied softly, "something inside that instability removed a blessing without leaving residue. If we do not act immediately, whatever did that may evolve."
Silence.
Instructor Halvren exhaled slowly through his nose. "You're suggesting a living anomaly."
The Examiner met his gaze. "I am suggesting a feeding one."
That word poisoned the room.
Leon stood near the back, arms crossed tightly, listening without speaking. Every sentence felt like it was being spoken around him, not to him—like he was already standing on the wrong side of a line he hadn't crossed yet.
Alex Rim.
The name wasn't spoken.
But it lived between every breath.
"The search parties will be formed at dawn," Varek continued. "Mixed units. Military, senior cadets, and Church observers."
Leon's head snapped up.
Observers.
Meaning scrutiny.
Meaning if Alex was found alive… there would be no mercy.
"Primary objectives," Varek went on. "Recover missing cadets. Confirm fatalities. Identify source of blessing extraction."
He paused.
"Neutralize if necessary."
The final words settled like a death sentence.
Leon clenched his jaw.
If necessary.
In the infirmary, Galen Mor screamed again.
It was the third time that night.
His body arched violently against the restraints, muscles seizing as if his own nerves had turned on him. He gasped for breath, nails scraping uselessly against the reinforced bed frame.
"No—no—no—!" he cried hoarsely. "It's empty—it's still empty—!"
A healer pressed a glowing palm against his forehead, trying to soothe the violent fluctuations in his mental state. It barely helped.
Galen's eyes were wide, bloodshot, fixed on something no one else could see.
Every instinct he had screamed for wind.
And nothing answered.
Years of muscle memory betrayed him. Every breath felt wrong—too heavy, too slow. He reached inward again and again, clawing desperately at the hollow where his blessing had lived.
There was only absence.
And something worse.
Fear.
"I commanded them," he whispered brokenly. "I held the line. I didn't fall—I didn't—!"
His voice cracked.
Fragments surfaced and vanished before he could grasp them.
Hands.
Darkness.
Pressure.
Hunger.
His chest burned violently.
"It was him," Galen choked. "I know it was—"
Pain detonated again.
His scream was raw, animal.
The healer recoiled as Galen's body convulsed, veins standing out sharply along his temples.
"Sedate him," one of the doctors ordered grimly.
As the drug took effect, Galen's thrashing slowed. Tears slid down the sides of his face, soaking into the pillow.
Even unconscious, his lips trembled.
Alex Rim.
Outside the infirmary doors, Leon stood frozen gazing at galen, he knew what happened to Galen exactly in the rift why is blessing is gone , but what he couldn't figure out was why Galen cant utter the name of the person that did it to him .
And something inside Leon twisted painfully.
Because he remembered.
And because he didn't know which truth was worse.
That Alex had done something unforgivable.
Or that the academy had created something it no longer understood.
Dawn came grey and cold.
Mist clung low to the academy grounds as soldiers assembled in formation, armor polished, weapons blessed and checked twice. Cadets stood among them—those deemed strong enough, stable enough, useful.
Names were called.
Squads assigned.
Leon's name echoed clearly across the courtyard.
He stepped forward automatically.
Part of him hoped—foolishly—that Alex's name would be called too.
It wasn't.
Missing remained missing.
The Search and Retrieval banners were raised.
Rift-grade containment equipment was distributed. Soul-sealing charms. Emergency extraction flares.
The Church observers moved among the ranks like ghosts, white robes immaculate, eyes missing nothing.
The Soul Examiner paused briefly in front of Leon.
Their gazes met.
Something unreadable passed between them.
"You were close to the missing cadet," the Examiner said softly.
Leon stiffened. "We were in the same squad."
"A dangerous proximity," the man replied mildly. "I hope, for your sake, it ends cleanly."
Leon didn't respond.
The horn sounded.
The gates opened.
And the search parties marched toward the ruins where reality had failed.
None of them noticed the faint tremor that rippled through the sealed Rift scar as they passed.
Far beneath fractured stone and warped space, something stirred.
And Alex Rim kept moving.
Alone.
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