Bermuda

'He really knows how to surprise people. I haven’t seen him in a while, and what is this?'

'He even brought the useless Council. Bey would’ve asked if he’d gone crazy.'

'If it weren’t for me, what would have happened? You said dying on the peninsula would be pointless.'

'We can’t stay long because of the tracker. You know that, right?'

'It’s always teams of two on the Elder Millie Peninsula.'

'So don’t be angry that I came alone. I’m only here for a bit.'

'You need to come to your senses soon. Got it?'

'And why have you lost so much weight? You look haggard.'

'The squad leader of Armsilver, collapsing just anywhere.'

"How unsightly."

The dense lashes quivered as the tightly closed lids parted, revealing brilliant golden eyes. They stared blankly at the scene before them, then rolled stiffly, trying to take in the situation.

The first thing that came into view was the ceiling. Not the rough ceiling of a cave with stalactites hanging down, but a round white dome that looked artificially sculpted.

It gave the impression of being inside a building. Too old and shabby to truly be called one, perhaps, yet the straight columns rising on both sides and the curved roof above them were clearly not formed by nature.

Neither the ceiling nor the columns were pure white. Stained and faded, they carried a grayish tint, while vines climbing the columns embroidered the roof, as though the structure’s lifespan had already ended.

This time, he lowered his gaze. Light was pouring in from that direction.

The surroundings were brighter than expected, and the sound of flowing water mixed with occasional birdsong. Just listening to it was comforting, making him want to lie there a little longer.

With a dazed face, he turned toward the light, then leaned back to stare at the vine-covered ceiling. Only after a long while did he slowly raise his aching body.

As he moved, every joint throbbed painfully, yet his mind was startlingly clear and refreshed—like waking from a deep sleep.

Still, having lain down so long, the sudden movement made his head spin. Leonardo bent forward, covering his eyes with his palms.

The light streaming down beyond the columns was so intense that even through his closed hands, his vision burned red. It spilled across the interior, shimmering around his legs.

When the dizziness passed, he lowered his hand. The blurred brightness resolved into sharper contrast.

Narrowing his eyes, Leonardo reached toward the light resting on his body. Warmth lingered against his palm, and his dulled senses stirred awake one by one.

As he absently savored the sensation, a flame flickered to life at the center of his hand. It flared as if to engulf his palm, then steadied into a constant glow.

His mana had returned.

The joy was short-lived. His brows furrowed as he noticed wide white bands wrapped around his left arm.

He should have been wearing his mage robe, sleeves covering his arms. He had no memory of exposing them—let alone of the bands being attached.

He quickly checked his clothes. His pants were the same, but for the top he wore only the black short-sleeved shirt beneath.

Lowering his arm, he glanced around.

Fortunately, his robe lay neatly folded in plain sight. Next to it were his gloves, rings, shoes, small artifacts, and dagger, all carefully placed where he had been lying.

As he counted them, checking for anything missing, he noticed more luggage leaning against a nearby column. They weren’t his. One item was the Council’s combat uniform top he had often seen.

Leonardo brushed off where he’d been sitting and walked over. He picked up the navy uniform and unfolded it.

The silver embroidery and badge on the collar were familiar.

Kenis’s.

He tossed it aside with disinterest and scanned the rest.

Several large backpacks, an unfolded map, pens, a rough brush, ruler, protractor, and other tools lay scattered. Mostly items for exploration or research—not what a newcomer to the peninsula would carry.

Someone else had been here.

The backpacks drew his attention again. Something about them bothered him—they looked familiar.

Taking only his dagger, he steadied himself on a column and stepped into the shaft of light. He needed to find Kenis.

Grass and moss growing through the cracked stone stairs tickled his bare feet. Looking down, he noticed his shadow short at his heels, then raised his head again.

The brilliant light made his vision swim. He shielded his eyes for a moment but didn’t look away.

Through spread fingers, the sky seemed strange. Lowering his hand, he blinked at it in puzzlement.

This was inside an enormous cave.

Far above, light spilled through a crack in the ceiling, flooding the cavern.

Leonardo turned back toward the structure he had just left. His gaze climbed upward.

A colossal edifice stood there.

Though broken and faded, its scale was immense. Tiered steps, layered platforms, and columns set in strict intervals marked it as no ordinary building. It looked like a temple.

After studying it a moment, he moved on, searching for signs of life. None appeared. Only a soothing white noise mingled with oppressive silence. Cozy, yet lonely and desolate.

Turning past a massive column, he froze.

A statue stood before him.

He looked up quietly. Raised on a pedestal, it was a woman’s form—one he had seen often of late. Similar statues dotted the hidden ruins across the peninsula.

He leapt lightly onto the pedestal. Now, the statue stood about his own height.

Its gaze was slightly lowered, as if watching him. From below, that look had always seemed vividly alive.

Blankly, he stared at her face. His golden eyes flickered faintly, shifting.

Not a breath of air moved in the cavern. The silence heightened the energy saturating the space. Slowly, he reached out to caress the statue’s cheek. His touch glided as though stroking a woman’s skin.

His eyes deepened. The sensation was strange.

It felt as if the cold, rough stone softened beneath his fingers. Confusion set in.

His narrowed eyes sharpened. His hand slid down ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) to the carved collar, resting against the smooth neck that joined head and body.

At that instant, footsteps and voices echoed through the cavern.

Two of them.

Leonardo whipped his head toward the sound, breath held. He released the statue’s neck, though the stone bore a small crack where his grip had pressed.

The voices drew nearer. He gave the statue one last cold glance, then vanished.

Kenis rushed up the stone stairs, clutching a small basket. The same stairs Leonardo had descended barefoot. Inside the basket were wild fruits and mushrooms, foraged easily nearby.

He hurried because he was worried about Leonardo being left alone. Bounding two or three steps at a time, he barely heard the man behind him call out,

"I told you, there’s no need to rush. Monsters hardly ever come here."

"But still."

The man following carried a small backpack bulging with exploration tools.

His narrow eyes, framed by silver-rimmed glasses, curved in a faint smile that resembled a snake’s. His pale skin, untouched by sunlight, gave him a gloomy air. In short, his impression was hardly reassuring.

Kenis reached the last step and went straight behind a column.

There, he had made a bed—hay covered with a thin blanket, simple yet warm—for Leonardo. But now it was empty.

"...Huh?"

He dropped the basket and ran to the spot. Leonardo’s belongings, even his shoes, remained—but not Leonardo.

He pressed the blanket. Cold. He had been gone a while.

'But his scent is still nearby...'

Bewildered, Kenis looked around, then cried to the man,

"Mr. Sc-Scholar! Mr. Blaine is gone!"

"Hm?"

The scholar set down his backpack and strolled over, unmoved by Kenis’s panic.

"Wh-Where did he go? His shoes are still here!"

"Who knows. Maybe he went for a walk."

"A walk? Without shoes?!"

Kenis fidgeted anxiously, then dashed about the structure, shouting,

"Mr. Blaine, where are you!"

His voice boomed through the cavern, enough to draw monsters—or worse.

The scholar, about to stop him, noticed something missing. One of Leonardo’s items—his dagger. The man’s eyes narrowed further.

Turning toward their own luggage, he spotted another inconsistency. The combat uniform he had seen Kenis neatly fold earlier was now scattered carelessly.

"..."

Aside from Kenis, no one was visible. The realization chilled him.

If Blaine had left without shoes, dagger in hand...

He glanced upward.

Thud!

Kenis halted at the heavy sound, then spun back. Returning to where he’d dropped the basket, he froze.

"Mr. Blaine!"

The scholar’s glasses clattered to the floor. His head and torso were pinned against a column, arms wrenched back in Leonardo’s grip.

Leonardo glanced at Kenis, then pressed the man harder with his forearm. The dagger gleamed at the scholar’s throat as he asked coldly,

"Who are you?"

The blade threatened to cut at any instant. Kenis cried in panic,

"Mr. Blaine, he’s not a bad person! He’s Mr. Scholar!"

Unmoved, Leonardo said flatly,

"How do you know that?"

"Th-That’s... He’s the one who saved us! He gave us medicine, treated us, and—ah—he even brought us food. Look!"

Kenis grabbed the fallen basket and held it up desperately.

Leonardo ignored it. Tilting the dagger, he studied the man’s reflection on its surface and repeated,

"Why do you carry the same bag as that bastard?"

Cold sweat beaded on the subdued scholar’s skin.

Though pinned, he kept his awkward smile and spoke evenly, as if soothing him,

"First, let me explain. Could you lower the knife?"