Chapter 75 – Excellence Camp – Outcast III

Veiled Forest - Middle Section, 25th of Brightforge, year 315 UC

Sabrina stood at the edge of their newly established camp, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the small clearing they'd claimed.

"Not bad."

She said, nodding appreciatively at the barrier Christopher had constructed around the perimeter—large boulders he'd created and stacked to form a protective wall.

"Though I'd feel better with a few traps."

Christopher wiped sweat from his brow.

"We can set those up after we finish the shelter."

He replied, gesturing to the half-completed structure behind them.

"Bryan wants it done before nightfall."

Sabrina glanced over at their captain, who stood a short distance away examining a map.

"Speaking of our fearless leader…"

She said, lowering her voice.

"He's been acting weirder than usual since we entered this place."

Christopher shrugged.

"It's Bryan. When is he not weird?"

Sabrina snorted, the sound drawing a brief glance from Bryan before he returned to his map.

"Fair point. But still..."

She trailed off as Farrah approached, carrying an armful of edible berries she'd gathered.

"How's the barrier coming along?"

Farrah asked, depositing her harvest on a large leaf they'd been using as a makeshift table.

"Almost done."

Christopher replied.

"Just need to reinforce the south side with a few more rocks."

Farrah nodded, her green eyes scanning the camp before settling on Sabrina.

"I heard you wanted to test your new spell?"

Sabrina couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. The memory of the bullfrogs exploding into charred fragments still filled her with a rush of satisfaction.

"Hell yes."

She said, practically bouncing on her toes.

"I need to figure out what this baby can do."

"Just don't blow up our camp."

Alexander called from where he was arranging sleeping areas beneath the half-built shelter.

"Please."

Sabrina scoffed.

"Give me some credit."

Bryan finally looked up from his map.

"Testing your spell is a good idea."

He said, folding the map and tucking it into his pocket.

"But do it away from camp. Take Farrah with you—we shouldn't be wandering alone."

Sabrina felt a flicker of annoyance at being told what to do, but she couldn't argue with the logic. Besides, having Farrah along would be useful.

"Fine by me."

She said, turning to Farrah.

"Ready to see some explosions?"

Farrah smiled, adjusting the small pack at her hip.

"Let me grab my water first. I have a feeling this might get... intense."

Ten minutes later, they'd found a suitable clearing about half a mile from camp. The space was wide enough that Sabrina could test her spell without risking damage to the surrounding forest, yet close enough that they could return quickly if needed.

"Alright."

Sabrina said, rolling her shoulders to loosen them.

"Stand back."

Farrah retreated to the edge of the clearing.

"Be careful. Remember what Alan said about conserving energy."

She quickly said.

Sabrina waved off the concern, focusing instead on the center of the clearing.

She raised her hand, visualizing a small sphere forming in the air about twenty feet away. The tips of her fingers tingled, then glowed with a reddish light. A moment later, a dark sphere about the size of her fist materialized where she'd been focusing.

"Is that it?"

Farrah asked.

Sabrina grinned, making a crushing motion with her hand.

"Wait for it."

The sphere erupted with a deafening crack, sending dirt and debris flying in all directions. The shockwave rippled through the clearing, flattening the grass in a perfect circle around the impact point.

"Holy shit!"

Sabrina exclaimed.

"Did you see that?"

Farrah brushed dust from her uniform.

"I definitely felt it."

She said, her long ears twitching slightly.

"The radius looks to be about fifteen feet."

Sabrina nodded, already planning her next test. She created another sphere, placing it at a different distance.

"Let's see what happens if I change the position."

The second explosion was just as powerful as the first, creating another crater in the earth. Sabrina continued her experiments, placing the spheres at different heights and distances. Each explosion was identical in power and radius, suggesting that the spell's output was fixed rather than variable.

After her fifth explosion, Sabrina paused, wiping sweat from her forehead. The continuous casting was draining her ether reserves faster than she'd expected.

"I think I'm getting a good feel for it."

She said, her breath coming a bit harder than normal.

"Let me try one more thing."

Farrah looked concerned, taking a step closer.

"Are you sure? You're looking a bit pale."

"I'm fine."

Sabrina insisted, though she could feel the heaviness in her limbs that signaled approaching ether depletion.

"Just one more."

She focused again, creating a sphere about thirty feet away. Instead of triggering it immediately, she picked up a small rock from the ground.

"Let's see if this works."

She said to Farrah, then tossed the rock toward the hovering sphere.

The moment the rock made contact, the sphere detonated with the same devastating force as before, the explosion catching Sabrina off guard despite her preparation. The shockwave knocked her back a step, dirt and debris raining down around them.

"It's contact-triggered!"

Sabrina exclaimed, excitement momentarily overriding her fatigue.

"I don't have to detonate it myself!"

"That's incredibly useful. You could set traps, or create delayed attacks."

Farrah said as she observed the display.

Sabrina beamed, though she swayed slightly as she turned to face Farrah fully.

"And it's instant—no casting time like with Magma Burst. I just create the sphere and boom!"

"I think that's enough for today."

Farrah said firmly, moving to Sabrina's side and placing a hand on her arm.

"Let's head back to camp before you collapse."

Sabrina wanted to argue but found she didn't have the energy. The series of explosions had drained her more thoroughly than she'd realized.

"Fine."

She conceded, allowing Farrah to guide her toward the path back to camp.

"But tomorrow we're testing how many I can make at once."

As they walked, Sabrina mentally cataloged what she'd learned. The spell was powerful and instantaneous. The explosions were consistent in size and power, suggesting she couldn't yet control the magnitude. And most interestingly, they could be triggered by contact rather than her will alone.

"What are you thinking?"

Farrah asked.

Sabrina grinned, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten in her excitement.

"I'm thinking that next time we face those Conspirator Bullfrogs, they won't know what hit them."

***

Veiled Forest - Middle Section, 25th of Brightforge, year 315 UC

Bryan moved silently through the forest. The mid-afternoon sun filtered through the canopy. He'd left Alexander and Christopher to finish the camp preparations, telling them he was scouting the perimeter.

It wasn't entirely a lie—he was surveying the area, mapping potential threats and escape routes. But he also needed space to think, away from the constant chatter and watchful eyes of his teammates.

A rustle in the underbrush to his right caught his attention. Bryan froze, his hand moving to the knife at his belt. A small creature emerged—a forest hare with unusual purple markings along its spine. It paused, nose twitching as it sensed his presence, then darted away into the dense foliage.

Bryan relaxed his stance slightly, continuing his progress through the trees.

He paused at a small stream, crouching to examine the water. He dipped his fingers into the cool current, watching as the water flowed around the obstacle of his hand.

Zoltan hadn't appeared since their confrontation in his room. The mouse's absence left a void that Bryan hadn't expected to feel so acutely. Despite their often-contentious relationship, Zoltan had been a constant in his life.

"Where are you?"

Bryan muttered.

No response came, not that he expected one. The mouse had a habit of appearing only when it suited him.

Bryan stood, wiping his wet fingers on his pants. The stream curved away to the east, following a natural depression in the forest floor.

The forest grew denser here, the trees closer together, their branches intertwining overhead to create a natural tunnel of vegetation.

As he walked, Bryan found his thoughts returning to the conversation with Gloria. The name she'd mentioned—Emilia Valentine—continued to haunt him, triggering headaches whenever he tried to recall any connection to it. The fact that his M.A.G.I.C. ring displayed "Valentine" as his surname only deepened the mystery.

"She could be a relative."

He paused, considering the implications.

"You're just being paranoid."

He told himself, continuing along the stream.

"Gloria got in your head, that's all."

Yet the doubt persisted, gnawing at the edges of his certainty. What if everything he believed about himself was a lie? What if Veron wasn't his father?

Bryan stopped abruptly, realizing he'd been so lost in thought that he'd wandered farther from camp than intended. The stream had widened here, forming a small pool before continuing its journey through the forest.

He knelt beside the pool, studying his reflection in the still water. White hair, red eyes, features that had always marked him as different.

"I need to know the truth."

He said to his reflection.

"Whatever it is."

As if in response, a small black shape appeared in the water beside his reflection. Bryan's head snapped up, hope flaring briefly before he realized it was just a leaf that had fallen from above.

"Great."

He muttered.

"Now I'm seeing things."

But was he? The hallucinations had been increasing in frequency—moments when he thought he saw Zoltan, only to find nothing there. The wall of notes that existed only in his mind. The occasional flashes of unfamiliar faces or places that disappeared as quickly as they came.

"I'm not crazy."

Bryan insisted, standing up abruptly.

"This is real. I'm real."

Bryan took a deep breath, centering himself. He needed to focus on the present, on the tangible reality around him. The trial, his team, the mission—these were concrete, verifiable. Everything else could wait.

He turned to head back to camp. As he moved through the trees, Bryan couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He paused several times, scanning the forest, but saw nothing unusual.

"Just paranoia."

He told himself, continuing forward.

"Side effect of too much thinking."

The forest seemed to grow darker as he walked, though the sun was still high above the canopy.

Bryan stopped, every sense alert. Something wasn't right. His hand moved to the knife at his belt, fingers closing around the familiar hilt.

"Who's there?"

He called.

No answer came, yet the sensation of being observed intensified. Bryan turned slowly, scanning the forest in all directions. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound.

Then, a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision—a small black shape darting between trees. Bryan spun toward it, knife drawn.

"Zoltan?"

He called.

"Is that you?"

The shape appeared again, just beyond a cluster of ferns. Definitely a mouse, definitely black. Bryan moved toward it, pushing through the undergrowth with more haste than caution.

"Stop playing games."

He demanded, following as the mouse darted deeper into the forest.

The mouse paused, turning to face him.

"Where have you been?"

Bryan asked, crouching to bring himself closer to the small creature's level.

"I've been looking for you."

The mouse tilted its head, as if considering the question. But no voice appeared in Bryan's mind.

"Zoltan?"

Bryan frowned, reaching toward the mouse.

"What's wrong with you? Say something!"

The mouse turned and darted away, disappearing into the underbrush. Bryan followed, pushing through ferns and around trees, determined not to lose sight of the creature.

The mouse reappeared on a fallen log, its small body silhouetted against a patch of sunlight. It sat up on its hind legs, paws pressed together as if in contemplation.

It opened its mouth, but instead of words in Bryan's mind, a high-pitched squeak emerged.

Bryan felt a chill run through him. This wasn't Zoltan—or if it was, something was very wrong.

"Who are you?"

He asked, taking a step back.

The mouse squeaked again, then turned and scurried into a hollow in the fallen log, disappearing from view.

Bryan stood frozen, trying to process what had just happened. Had he imagined the purple eyes? Was his mind so desperate for contact with Zoltan that it had projected the familiar traits onto an ordinary forest mouse?

"I'm losing my mind."

He muttered, running a hand through his white hair.

"Seeing things that aren't there."

He turned to head back to camp.

"Great… Just perfect."

Bryan sighed, trying to orient himself.

He closed his eyes, focusing on his memory of the terrain. The camp was in a natural depression, surrounded by dense trees. The stream flowed from west to east. If he could find the stream again, he could follow it back to familiar territory.

Opening his eyes, Bryan chose a direction that felt right and began walking.

"This doesn't make sense."

He muttered, pushing through a particularly dense patch of ferns.

"I didn't come this way."

A sound behind him made Bryan spin around. Nothing was there—just trees.

"Hello?"

He called.

No response came, yet the feeling of being watched intensified.

Then, a whisper—so faint he might have imagined it.

"Bryan..."

He whirled toward the sound.

"Who's there?"

He demanded.

"Bryan..."

The whisper came again, seeming to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once.

A figure stepped from behind a tree—a woman with white hair like his own, her features indistinct in the forest's shifting light. She wore a simple dress of indeterminate color, her hands clasped before her.

"Who are you?"

Bryan asked.

The woman smiled, the expression transforming her face into something almost familiar.

"Don't you know me?"

She asked in a gentle tone.

Bryan felt a throb of pain behind his temples, a familiar pressure that intensified as he tried to place her face.

"No, I don't know you."

He said uncertainly.

"You do."

She insisted, taking a step closer.

"You've always known me, Bryan. You've just forgotten."

The pain in his head sharpened, bringing with it flashes of memory—a kitchen filled with the smell of fresh bread, a woman's hands guiding his own, a lullaby sung in a voice that matched the one he heard now.

"Mother?"

He whispered.

The woman's smile widened.

"Yes."

She said, extending her hand toward him.

"Come with me, Bryan."

Bryan took a step forward. Then he stopped, doubt creeping in as he studied the woman more carefully.

"You're not real."

He said, raising the knife again.

"You're just another hallucination."

The woman's smile faltered, her extended hand dropping to her side.

"Is that what they told you?"

She asked.

"That I wasn't real? That I never existed?"

"No one told me anything."

Bryan replied, fighting through the pain in his head.

"But I know what's real and what isn't. And you—you're not real."

"Oh, Bryan…"

The woman sighed, her form seeming to waver like heat rising from sun-baked stone.

"You've always been so stubborn. Just like your father."

The mention of his father sent another spike of pain through Bryan's skull, bringing him to his knees. Images flashed through his mind—a man with glasses, a laboratory filled with strange equipment.

"Stop!"

Bryan gasped, pressing his free hand against his temple.

"Get out of my head."

"I'm not in your head, Bryan."

The woman said.

Bryan looked up, but the woman was gone. In her place stood a small black mouse with purple eyes, watching him with an intelligence that seemed almost mocking.

The mouse squeaked—a normal, animal sound—and darted away into the underbrush.

Bryan remained kneeling, waiting for the pain to subside.

"I'm losing my mind."

He muttered, rising unsteadily to his feet.

"Seeing things, hearing things... this isn't right."

He needed to get back to camp, to ground himself in reality again. The pain in his head receded, allowing him to think more clearly.

The sun had moved while he'd been... distracted.

After what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, the sound of running water reached his ears. Bryan quickened his pace, relief washing over him as the stream came into view. He followed it back toward camp, his mind racing with questions about what he'd experienced.

Was it simply exhaustion playing tricks on his mind? Or something more sinister—a manifestation of the memory manipulation Alessia had warned might be happening to him?

Either way, one thing was clear: he couldn't trust his own perceptions anymore. And that realization was perhaps the most terrifying of all.