Beneath the central tower of the Research Division, the air hung heavy with scent of parchment, burnt ink, and faint alchemical residue. Crystals embedded in the walls hummed with subtle magic, casting reflections across the long obsidian table in the strategy chamber. Around it sat six individuals — all soldiers of the Research Division, handpicked by Captain Elanor herself.
Captain Elanor leaned forward slightly, her eyes sharp beneath her half-moon glasses. The room was quiet. Each soldier was reviewing a different data set: energy residue reports, glyph decay patterns, reconstructed witness accounts — what little remained after Volst's final, failed assault.
"The anomaly," she began, "did not leave a trace we can track. No residual magic signature, no material leftovers — only distortion." Her voice was precise, like a scalpel. "So, what do we have?"
A tall man with ash-grey hair and a band across one eye spoke first. "The distortion field collapsed natural mana channels within a fifty-meter radius. That's not containment — that's domination."
Another soldier, younger but no less confident, added, "And that kind of power isn't registered anywhere in our archives. No spell glyphs, no elemental core… This isn't recognized magic. It's something else."
Elanor nodded, hands steepled beneath her chin. "Then we build a profile. Motive. Movement. Behavior."
A woman with delicate gloves flipped open a notebook. "From the spy's report, he appeared only after Volst made his move — which suggests calculated intervention, not random violence. Whoever this figure is, they didn't act blindly."
"Or," another soldier said, "they used Volst's chaos as cover. Maybe Volst was bait."
"Unlikely," said Elanor. "Too much precision. Too clean."
A silence settled, then broke with a new voice — one of the older soldiers, voice low and calm: "Suggest establishing false intelligence drops. Circulate restricted glyph locations. See if it draws the anomaly out again."
"Risky," the young woman replied. "If it's intelligent, it won't bite."
"But if it's protective," said another, "we can simulate a threat scenario and observe the response."
The room hummed with focus. These were not common thinkers — each one razor-sharp. Theories continued: possible origins in forgotten civilizations, ancient contracts reawakened, even the revival of pre-core elemental mastery.
Elanor finally raised a hand.
"Good. Consolidate the top five strategies. Focus on observation, not contact."
She turned to Vael, who stood silently near the door, absorbing everything.
"Take the report to Captains Maris and Drachmour," she said. "Tonight."
Vael bowed once. "Understood."
As he left, the soldiers continued without pause, diving back into analysis — a division of scholars as dangerous as any battlefield unit.
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The dimly lit room inside the southern barracks was rarely used, reserved for high-level discussion among commanding officers. A long crescent table faced a massive crystal screen that hummed faintly. Seated at the head were Captain Maris and Captain Drachmour, with a few other division leaders along the arc.
Vael, the Junior Captain of Research, stood before them with a composed posture, scrolls and etched crystal slates in hand.
"The Research Division has identified several probable strategies to observe and profile the new anomaly," Vael began. "We will begin deploying controlled false intelligence, manipulating rumors of high-tier glyph artifacts or lost spell archives. Our aim is to lure the anomaly — or whatever force responds to it — into choosing to act again."
Captain Maris crossed her legs and leaned forward. "And what if the rumors escalate? The public is already stirred. We don't need hysteria brewing around an unknown godlike figure."
Drachmour's voice rumbled low. "Then the Research Division should make sure it doesn't escalate."
Vael didn't flinch. "We've anticipated that."
He raised one crystal slate — a projection flickered above it: a stylized tale involving an ancient guardian spirit, tied to long-lost myths whispered in rural communities.
"We will mask the event using folkloric imagery. A controlled myth. Symbols, sightings, and relics will all point to a vague protector-type figure. Mysterious, but not threatening. This will let us collect data without sparking panic."
There was silence as the captains reviewed the proposal.
Maris narrowed her eyes. "And if this entity isn't interested in being part of your tale?"
Vael lowered the slate. "Then the lie becomes our shield — until we learn the truth."
Drachmour looked toward the window, where the moon was rising above the silent trees. He said nothing. But the flicker of intrigue in his eyes did not go unnoticed.
The meeting adjourned shortly after.
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**Back in the Research division HQ**
"We know three things," Elanor began. "One: Volst launched a large-scale ambush. Two: something stopped him—instantly, violently. Three: not a single attacker survived. That... something didn't leave behind an aura we can trace, but it left impressions in the environment. Subtle, dense, erratic impressions."
The analyst to her left, Kerrin, adjusted his lenses and nodded. "The residue levels are far beyond what any classed mage should be able to produce. It's like he bent the raw field density around himself, rewrote the behavior of surrounding mana."
"Not bent," corrected Sera, the ambient aura specialist. "It wasn't manipulation—it was domination. The field didn't respond to him like a wielder. It was submitted like prey."
There was a brief silence.
"Then we don't track him," said Luneth, the terrain mapper. "We track the environment's reaction to him. We map locations where ambient mana patterns have warped unnaturally. If he moves again, the land will remember."
Captain Elanor nodded once. "Start building a disruption web. The quietest spots. Forgotten corners. If he shows himself, we don't catch him—we understand him."
"From a distance," said Rylos, the profile expert. "We can't provoke him. Not yet. But we can begin predicting him."
"And what about intention?" asked Myne, the historical comparative. "Even if we find where he'll walk, we won't know why. If it's protection, vengeance, chaos—each would change our counter-strategy."
"I'll handle that," Elanor said. "I want a complete behavioral framework built from the Volst aftermath. Focus on what wasn't damaged. What was left untouched. That tells us intent."
The sixth and final member, Varen, nodded slowly. "Then we classify him not as a threat yet… but as a phenomenon. An anomaly too controlled to be madness, too powerful to be ignored."
"And," Elanor finished, "we don't give him a name."
All six looked up.
"A name gives shape. Shape gives fear. Let others chase shadows. We study patterns. That's our strength."
They all nodded.
Outside the chamber, the sound of rain had begun to patter lightly against the high glass dome of the outer corridor. Inside, the planning had just begun.