Chapter 82 – Excellence Camp – Outcast X

Veiled Forest - Inner Section, 28th of Brightforge, year 315 UC

Bryan's eyes snapped open in the darkness, his chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. The shelter around him was filled with the quiet sounds of his sleeping teammates—Christopher's steady breathing, Sabrina's occasional mutter, and the restless shifting of Farrah's fitful sleep.

He lay still for several minutes, staring up at the roof.

Bryan sat up carefully, moving in silence to avoid waking the others. His uniform clung to his skin with a thin layer of sweat despite the cool night air.

He needed space. Fresh air. Something to clear the fog that seemed permanently settled in his head.

Bryan slipped out of the shelter.

Near the edge of their small clearing, a familiar figure sat hunched on a fallen log. Alexander's silhouette was unmistakable—the slope of his shoulders, the way he held his head slightly forward as if the weight of it was too much to bear.

Bryan approached quietly, noting how Alexander's hands trembled even in the simple act of holding his watch position. The boy's blonde hair was disheveled, and even in the dim light, Bryan could see the dark circles under his eyes had deepened.

"You're supposed to wake Sabrina after two hours."

Bryan said, settling onto a nearby rock.

Alexander startled, his head whipping around before he recognized who had spoken.

"Oh. Bryan."

He managed a weak smile.

"I was... I was going to. Just needed a few more minutes to gather myself."

"How long has it been?"

Bryan asked, though he already suspected the answer.

Alexander's gaze drifted to the sky, as if he could read time in the position of the stars.

"Three hours? I'm not really sure."

He rubbed his face with both hands.

"Time feels... strange right now. Like it's moving too fast and too slow at the same time."

Bryan studied him. Alexander's condition was worse than it had been during the day. The tremors had intensified, and there was a glassy quality to his eyes that suggested he was fighting to maintain focus.

'He's not going to last much longer.'

The thought drifted through Bryan's mind.

'Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.'

Bryan frowned, pushing the intrusive thought away. Where had that come from?

"You should have woken someone."

Bryan said.

"I can handle it."

Alexander's voice carried a stubborn edge despite its weakness.

"I'm not going to be the one who ruins this for everyone."

'You already have.'

Bryan's jaw tightened as he forced the thought away.

"Nobody expects you to suffer in silence."

Bryan said, though the words felt hollow even as he spoke them.

Alexander let out a bitter laugh.

"Don't they? I've seen how you all look at me. Like I'm a bomb waiting to go off. Like I'm going to get someone killed."

'You almost did.'

Bryan's hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"That's not—"

Bryan started, then stopped. Because it was true, wasn't it? Alexander had nearly gotten Farrah killed during the fight with the two-headed snake. His weakness, his inability to function properly, had created the opening that led to her injury.

'He's a liability. Liabilities get people killed.'

"I'm going for a walk."

Bryan said abruptly, standing from the rock.

"Don't try to be a hero if something shows up."

Alexander nodded.

Bryan moved away from the camp, following no particular path through the trees.

As he walked, his mind returned to earlier in the day. The argument by the tree. The way Farrah had looked at him when he'd questioned her recklessness, when she'd walked away rather than continue their conversation. The hurt in her green eyes before she'd turned her back on him.

'She doesn't understand.'

Bryan thought, stepping over a fallen branch.

'She doesn't see the bigger picture.'

But even as he tried to justify his behavior, a part of him knew he'd been wrong. Farrah had risked herself to save Alexander because it was the right thing to do.

So why did it irritate him so much?

A sharp pain lanced through his skull, causing Bryan to stumble slightly. He pressed a hand to his temple, feeling the familiar throb that had been plaguing him for weeks. The headaches were getting worse.

'Everything's falling apart.'

He thought, leaning against the rough bark of a large tree.

'My memory, my team, my mission...'

"Your relationship with her."

The voice was quiet, almost conversational. Bryan's head snapped up, scanning for its source.

"Who's there?"

He called.

Silence greeted him, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the night breeze. Bryan waited, every sense alert, but no further sound came.

'Just the wind.'

He told himself, pushing away from the tree.

'Or your imagination.'

But as he continued walking, the voice came again.

"She's becoming a weakness."

This time, Bryan was certain it wasn't the wind. The words were clear and seemed to come from directly behind him. He spun around, one hand moving to the knife at his belt.

"Show yourself."

He demanded.

The forest remained empty.

The hallucinations were getting worse. First the mice that might or might not be Zoltan, then the woman with white hair who might or might not be his mother. Now voices giving him advice he didn't want to hear.

A movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Bryan turned to see a small spider descending from a branch above. The creature was perhaps the size of a coin, nothing threatening.

But as it continued its descent, Bryan felt an irrational surge of revulsion. Its path aimed directly at his face.

"No."

Bryan muttered, reaching up to brush it away.

The moment his finger made contact with the spider, it seemed to burst like a water balloon filled with dark liquid. The substance splattered across his hand.

But instead of falling away, more spiders began emerging from the trees around him. These were larger—each the size of a small dog—with glossy black carapaces that reflected the moonlight.

Bryan slashed his palm with his knife, letting blood flow freely. The logical part of his mind knew this couldn't be real. Spiders that large didn't exist in this region, and certainly not in such numbers. But the adrenaline flooding his system felt real enough.

The first spider to reach the ground immediately scuttled toward him, its legs making soft clicking sounds against the forest floor. Bryan formed a crescent blade of blood, slashing through its body and leaving a dark stain on the earth.

'Kill them all.'

The voice was back, louder now and filled with encouragement.

'Don't let them touch you.'

More spiders dropped around him. Bryan spun; he dispatched each creature as it approached. Crescent blades swept through the attacking swarm. But for every spider he killed, two more seemed to take its place.

"This isn't real."

Bryan said through gritted teeth, even as he continued fighting.

"These things aren't real."

'Real enough to kill you.'

The voice replied with what sounded like amusement.

'Real enough to matter.'

A new voice joined the first. Bryan recognized it immediately, though he hadn't heard it in months.

"Bryan."

Veron's voice cut through the sound of Bryan's breathing and the skittering of spider legs.

"Look at what you've become."

Bryan stopped mid-strike, his blood magic held ready as he searched the darkness. Through the trees, a familiar figure emerged—tall, lean, wearing the distinctive robes of the Inquisition. High Inquisitor Veron stepped into the moonlight.

"Father?"

Bryan let his blood weapons dissipate slightly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Cleaning up a mess."

Veron replied, his eyes fixed on Bryan with disappointment.

"You've forgotten everything you've been taught. Everything we worked for."

The spiders had vanished, Bryan realized. The moment Veron appeared, they'd simply faded away like smoke. But Bryan barely noticed—his attention was completely focused on the man in front of him.

"I haven't forgotten anything."

Bryan said.

"Haven't you?"

Veron stepped closer.

"You've allowed yourself to become attached. To develop... feelings."

The way he said the last word made it sound like a disease.

"That's not—"

"The girl."

Veron interrupted.

"Farrah Heartland. You care about her."

It wasn't a question, and Bryan found he couldn't deny it.

"Caring is weakness, Bryan. Weakness creates vulnerabilities. Vulnerabilities can be exploited."

Veron began walking in a slow circle around Bryan.

"I trained you better than this."

"She's not a weakness."

Bryan said, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"Isn't she?"

Veron stopped directly in front of him.

"When that creature attacked, what was your first instinct? To complete the mission? To protect the team? Or to save her specifically?"

Bryan's mouth opened, but no words came. Because Veron was right. When the two-headed snake had struck Farrah, Bryan's careful tactical thinking had evaporated.

"Exactly."

Veron nodded, as if Bryan had spoken his thoughts aloud.

"She compromises your judgment. Makes you sloppy. Predictable."

As if summoned by their conversation, Farrah materialized from the shadows between the trees. She wore her academy uniform, her dark curls framing her face in the moonlight.

"Bryan?"

She called, her voice carrying the same concern it had held by the tree earlier that day.

"Are you alright?"

"You see?"

Veron whispered, though his lips didn't move.

"Even now, she comes looking for you. Checking on you. Creating dependencies where none should exist."

Farrah approached slowly. But Veron was right—her presence made Bryan's pulse quicken, made him want to close the distance between them.

"Bryan, you're scaring me."

Farrah said, stopping a few feet away.

"Who are you talking to?"

"She doesn't even see me."

Veron observed.

"To her, you're just having another episode. Another breakdown. Is this what you want? To be seen as unstable? Unreliable?"

"I'm not—"

Bryan started.

"You're standing in a forest at night, talking to hallucinations."

Veron interrupted.

"How is that not unstable?"

Bryan looked between Veron and Farrah, confusion and frustration warring in his mind. Farrah's expression was growing more concerned by the moment, her eyes tracking his gaze as if trying to see what he was looking at.

"Liabilities must be eliminated."

Veron said matter-of-factly.

"It's the first rule of operational security."

"She's not a liability."

Bryan insisted.

"She's a person."

"People become liabilities when they interfere with the mission."

Veron's hand moved to his side, and ice began to form around his fingers—sharp, crystalline extensions that gleamed like knives.

"Let me show you."

Before Bryan could react, Veron moved. His ice-enhanced hand swept toward Farrah's throat in a motion too fast for the eye to follow. Bryan saw the moment of impact. Farrah's eyes widened in shock as she reached up slowly with her hand, grasping her neck. But the blood wouldn't stop flowing, even as she tried to reach out to him.

"NO!"

Bryan screamed. He lunged toward Farrah's fallen form, but Veron intercepted him.

"You see?"

Veron said calmly, as if he hadn't just committed murder.

"Your immediate response wasn't tactical. It was emotional. That makes you weak."

Bryan's vision went red. Blood flowed freely as it formed into multiple crescent blades. The crimson weapons orbited around him before launching at Veron in a coordinated assault. Veron raised a wall of ice for protection, the blood weapons shattering against the frozen barrier.

"This is what attachment does."

Veron continued his lecture even as they fought.

"It clouds judgment. Creates openings. Gives enemies something to target."

Bryan formed a massive blood spear, hurling it with enough force to shatter Veron's ice wall. But as the ice collapsed, Veron counter-attacked with ice spears of his own, forcing Bryan to create barriers to deflect each strike.

Bryan tried to reach where Farrah had fallen, but Veron's attacks kept him pinned down. None of this made sense. Veron couldn't be here—he was hundreds of miles away. And Farrah was back at camp, not wandering the forest alone.

'Hallucination.'

The realization should have been comforting, but it only made things worse. If this wasn't real, then his desperate need to save Farrah meant nothing. If this wasn't real, then he was truly losing his mind.

'Does it matter?'

Another voice whispered in his mind.

'Real or not, the lesson stands. She makes you weak.'

Bryan forced himself to focus despite the chaos in his head. He formed blood weapons while dodging Veron's ice attacks, but something was wrong with his magic. His magic felt sluggish, unresponsive.

"Your control is deteriorating."

Veron observed, advancing with ice forming around both hands now.

"Just like everything else about you."

"She's not the problem."

Bryan said through gritted teeth, forming another barrier to block an ice lance.

"You are."

"I made you what you are."

Veron replied with something that might have been pride.

"I gave you purpose. Direction. The tools to excel."

"You gave me nothing but pain."

The admission came out before Bryan could stop it, years of suppressed resentment bubbling to the surface.

"Everything I am, I built myself."

"Did you?"

Veron's expression didn't change, but the ice around his hands grew thicker.

"Then where are your memories, Bryan? Where is your past?"

The question hit like a physical blow, causing Bryan to stumble backward. Veron's image began to waver, like heat rising from sun-baked stone.

"If you built yourself, why can't you remember the building?"

And then Veron was gone, dissolved into mist that scattered on the night breeze. Bryan was alone in the forest again, his barrier still raised defensively against an enemy that no longer existed.

But the silence didn't last long.

A chittering sound filled the air. From the shadows between the trees, new creatures emerged.

These weren't spiders. They were something worse—arachnids the size of cats, but with curved horns protruding from their heads like miniature bulls. Their eyes glowed red in the darkness, and when they opened their mouths, Bryan could see rows of needle-sharp teeth.

Behind them came flying creatures—wasps or hornets, each one the size of Bryan's fist. Their wings buzzed with a sound like grinding metal, and as he watched, one of them landed on a nearby tree trunk and spat a stream of acid that immediately began eating through the bark.

"Not real."

Bryan muttered, even as he slashed his other palm to increase his blood supply.

"None of this is real."

But the creatures seemed to disagree. They advanced as a group—the horned spiders skittering along the ground while the acid-spitting hornets took to the air. Bryan found himself surrounded again, forced to fight enemies that his rational mind insisted couldn't exist.

He moved blood forming crescent blades that sliced through chitin and flesh while barriers deflected acid and claws. The creatures fell, one by one, but their numbers seemed endless. Blood flowed from his palms in steady streams, forming into weapons that dissolved and reformed as quickly as he could think.

And through it all, the voices continued.

'She's holding you back.'

'You know what needs to be done.'

'Eliminate the weakness.'

'Protect the mission.'

Bryan lost track of time as he fought. Blood flowed, dissolved, reformed. The pattern became hypnotic, almost meditative.

It wasn't until the last hornet fell that he realized something else was watching him.

At the edge of the clearing where his battle had taken place stood a new creature. It was tall, perhaps seven feet, with pale white skin that seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight. Its limbs were long, thin, and ended in hands that bore only four fingers each—fingers that terminated in curved claws.

A tail swished behind it, and as Bryan watched, scales became visible along its arms and neck. Its face was the worst part—human enough to be recognizable not really.

The creature tilted its head as it studied Bryan, the gesture disturbingly familiar despite the alien features.

Bryan blinked hard, confusion washing over him. For a moment, the creature's features seemed to shift and blur. The too-long limbs shortened, the pale skin took on a more human tone, the claws became ordinary fingers.

Alexander stood there instead, looking concerned and exhausted. His blonde hair was disheveled.

"Bryan? What are you doing out here?"

But even as Alexander spoke, his image was unstable. Like a double exposure photograph, Bryan could see both versions superimposed—the human boy and the pale creature with its wrong proportions and predatory stance.

"You're not Alexander."

Bryan said, blood still flowing around his hands.

"What are you talking about?"

Alexander took a step closer, and for a moment he looked completely normal—just a tired, concerned teammate checking on a friend.

"I heard shouting. I thought something was attacking."

The creature's tail swished again, visible even through Alexander's human disguise.

"I said you're not Alexander."

Bryan repeated.

The thing wearing Alexander's face tilted its head in confusion, but it remained silent.

"Enough of this crap."

Bryan snarled, exhaustion and frustration finally boiling over.

"I'm so sick and tired of people trying to use me. Trying to manipulate me. Control me."

"Bryan, I don't understand—"

"STOP!"

Bryan shouted.

"Just stop pretending! I can see what you really are!"

The creature-wearing-Alexander's-face paused, its head tilting in that unsettling way again. And then, as if Bryan's words had broken some kind of spell, the human disguise began to fade away completely.

What remained was the pale, elongated thing with its claws and tail. It studied Bryan, no longer bothering to maintain its charade.

The creature lunged without warning.

Bryan barely managed to augment his body in time to block the swipe of its claws. The impact sent him stumbling backward, his boots sliding on the loose forest floor. The creature was fast—faster than anything had a right to be—and its reach was longer than Bryan had expected.

It pressed its advantage, claws sweeping in wide arcs that forced Bryan to duck and weave. Each near-miss was close enough that he could feel the displacement of air, could see the gouges the claws left in tree bark when they connected with something solid.

Bryan tried to create distance, to give himself room to use his magic effectively. But the creature seemed to anticipate his movements.

A claw raked across his chest, tearing through his uniform shirt and leaving four parallel lines of fire across his skin. Bryan hissed in pain but managed to counter with a blood spear, the weapon opening a shallow cut along the creature's forearm.

Dark ichor flowed from the wound that smelled horrid. The creature glanced at the cut, but showed no sign of being significantly hindered.

It retaliated immediately. Bryan barely managed to avoid. One set of claws broke through his defenses, catching his left arm and opening deep cuts from elbow to wrist. Another raked across his face, leaving burning lines from temple to jaw.

'I need an opening. Where is it?'

Blood flowed freely now—Bryan's own, human blood that he quickly shaped into weapons. But the creature seemed to learn from each exchange, adapting its attacks to counter his defenses.

"Why won't you just die already?!"

Bryan screamed, his frustration reaching a breaking point.

He abandoned subtlety, forming a massive blood blade and bringing it down in an overhead strike that should have split the creature in half. The blade connected, shearing through pale flesh and alien bone.

The creature collapsed, its body separating along the line of Bryan's cut. Dark ichor pooled beneath the remains, soaking into the forest floor.

Bryan stood over the corpse, breathing hard, blood from his various wounds dripping steadily. The pain was intense but manageable—he'd suffered worse during training.

"Finally."

He muttered, letting his blood dissipate.

"Took long enough."

But even as he spoke, the creature's remains began to dissolve. Like smoke in a strong wind, the body faded away until nothing remained but the stain on the ground.

And from the trees stepped Alexander.

The real Alexander this time—Bryan was sure of it. The boy's movements were wrong, too unsteady to be mimicked effectively. Bryan recognized what seemed like genuine exhaustion

"Bryan?"

Alexander called softly.

"Are you alright? I heard screaming."

Bryan stared at him, something cold and terrible settling in his chest. The creature was gone, but Alexander was here. The timing was too convenient.

'Another damned hallucination.'

"Again with this?"

Bryan said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alexander's brow furrowed.

"Again with what? Bryan, you're bleeding. What happened?"

But Bryan wasn't listening anymore. He could see it now—the pale creature standing behind Alexander like a shadow, its claws resting on the boy's shoulders.

"You keep coming back."

Bryan said, blood beginning to flow from his palms again.

"I'll just keep killing you."