Something's off

“You’d think countryside air would feel lighter,” Toren muttered, wrinkling his nose. “But somehow, it feels like breathing through wet cloth.”

Lucien adjusted the strap of his pack, scanning the stretch of dirt road that cut through the fields. “That’s because it’s different. The mana here isn’t strong like in the Academy city. It’s thinner… and unsteady.”

Arian walked just behind him, silver hair stirring in the faint breeze. His eyes lingered on the distant cottages clustered together like huddled birds. “Unsteady is a kind word. It feels… tired.”

“You’re both imagining things.” Toren stretched lazily, spear balanced over his shoulders. “It’s just country mana. Can’t expect peasants to glow with power. If they’ve got enough to light a fire without flint, that’s a miracle.”

Elira gave him a side-glance, sharp as her quill. “You speak as though mana is a luxury, not the breath of life. Without it, even peasants would wither.”

Caelith, who had been walking silently at the rear, finally spoke. “Not all wither. Some live quietly without it. You’d be surprised how… peaceful that life can be.”

The group fell into a hush at that, footsteps crunching against gravel. Lucien glanced sideways at Arian, who said nothing but was clearly listening. There was something in Caelith’s words that lingered, heavier than the breeze carrying the smell of turned soil and hay.

---

The village appeared before long, ringed by wooden fences and fields patched with wildflowers and half-grown crops. Children chased one another near a shallow brook, their laughter carrying on the wind. Yet behind the smiles, Lucien noticed it: a sluggishness in their steps, pallor on their cheeks. Their movements lacked the vitality he was used to in the Academy.

An elder met them at the gate, bent but steady, robes patched with faded thread. He bowed stiffly. “Welcome. We are grateful for your presence.”

Lucien inclined his head politely. “We’ve been told of monster sightings. We’ll investigate today.”

“Yes, yes.” The elder’s hands shook as he wrung them. “They prowl the forest edge. Chickens gone, goats dragged… a young shepherd too. Only his staff was found.” His voice cracked, and he steadied himself quickly. “Forgive me. We know it is not for us to command. We are only thankful you’ve come.”

Toren puffed up his chest. “Relax, old man. We’ll handle it. Monsters don’t stand a chance.”

The elder’s gaze flickered briefly to Toren’s grin, then shifted gratefully to Arian and Lucien, as though choosing where to place his trust.

---

They were given space in a barn to rest and prepare, though none of them lingered long. By midday, they had gathered near the forest edge.

“Scouts reported low-rank mana beasts,” Elira said, flipping through her notes. “Horned boars, shadow foxes, maybe a stray wyvern whelp at worst.”

“Boars,” Toren groaned. “Do you know how bad those things smell when you cut them open?”

“Then don’t breathe,” Caelith replied flatly.

Lucien smirked despite the tension. “Stay focused. If we underestimate them, even low ranks can kill.”

The companions stood ready beside their chosen mages: Arian’s lynx prowled with silent elegance, Lucien’s wolf cub trotted at his heel, Elira’s serpent coiled around her wrist, and Caelith’s hawk circled above in sweeping arcs. Toren’s companion—a squat, fire-snorting drake barely taller than his knees—yawned smoke.

“See?” Toren grinned, scratching the drake’s head. “Adorable and deadly. Just like me.”

“Mostly just irritating,” Elira muttered.

---

The forest hunt stretched through the afternoon.

Lucien struck down two horned boars with precise bursts of mana, though his chest burned with each spell—his reserves strained faster than he liked to admit. The wolf cub darted ahead of him, sharp and eager, snapping at the beasts’ heels to herd them into Lucien’s strikes. Its instincts were uncanny, as though it knew how to fight alongside him without needing instruction.

“You’re full of surprises,” Lucien whispered to it between breaths.

The cub wagged its tail once, eyes gleaming knowingly.

Elsewhere, Toren whooped as his drake belched a plume of fire, scattering fox-shadows that had slunk between trees. “That’s it, burn ‘em all!”

“Restrain your flames,” Arian called curtly. His lynx leapt from shadow to shadow, striking down foxes with claws that shimmered silver. “The forest is not your playground.”

Caelith’s hawk dove suddenly, skewering a lesser wyvern whelp before it could rise. Its cry echoed, sharp and final.

By dusk, the forest edge lay quiet. The companions sat or circled, content after the fight.

Lucien wiped his brow. “That should be the last of them.”

“Should,” Arian echoed, tone faintly edged.

“You felt it too?” Lucien asked, lowering his voice.

Arian didn’t answer at first, his eyes roaming the darkening forest. Finally, he said, “Something is wrong. Too easy.”

Lucien’s chest tightened. He’d thought the same. The monsters weren’t hunting—they’d been… wandering. Aimless. Almost driven.

But before he could say more, Toren clapped him on the back. “Relax! Job’s done. Villagers safe, beasts dead. Easy marks.”

Lucien forced a smile, though unease gnawed at him.

---

That evening, the villagers welcomed them with a humble feast. Bread, stew, goat’s milk, simple fare offered with warm gratitude. Children laughed again, tugging at Toren’s drake until it belched smoke and made them squeal.

Yet Lucien’s gaze kept straying to the edges of the crowd. Some villagers coughed faintly, their hands trembling as they lifted spoons. A sheen of sweat glistened on pale foreheads their veins—. He remembered the elder’s words—a bit of sickness, nothing more.

He wasn’t so sure.

Arian caught his eye across the table. They didn’t need words—just a faint nod that confirmed he wasn’t alone in noticing.

Caelith, too, sat stiffly, eyes sharp as though watching for predators.

---

When night settled, the students retired to the barn. Straw pallets, the smell of hay, and faint moonlight filtering through gaps in the wood.

Toren flopped down dramatically. “Best mission yet. No professors breathing down our necks, free food, and I get to show off. Perfect.”

Elira huffed, setting her notes aside. “Your definition of perfect is dangerously low. Even though mission was supposedly easy there is only one experienced knight with us. We should be careful.”

Lucien leaned back against the wood beams, the cub curling up at his side. Its warmth pressed steady into him, grounding him. Yet sleep wouldn’t come easily. His mind replayed the fights, the villagers, the pallor in their skin. Something didn’t fit.

Arian lay on his own pallet, eyes open, silver hair catching moonlight. “Lucien,” he murmured softly, only for him. “Stay alert tonight.”

Lucien’s pulse skipped. “You think something’s coming?”

“I think,” Arian said, voice quiet, “things are already here.”

Things?

---

Morning came with shouts.

Lucien bolted upright, heart thudding, as a villager ran past the barn. “Students—missing! Some of your group didn’t return last night!”

The courtyard filled with frantic voices. A quick count proved it: three students were gone. None of them had been close friends, just classmates who’d gone out after supper.

“They probably went drinking.” Toren scratched his head. “Countryside ale makes city kids dumb.”

By noon, though, the missing students returned—smiling, laughing, brushing off worry. “We just wandered too far,” one said. “Got lost, that’s all.”

The villagers relaxed. Some even chuckled.

But Lucien didn’t laugh.

Something was off. The way their eyes gleamed, the faint echo in their voices when they spoke—it made his skin prickle. Arian’s lynx arched its back, hackles raised. Caelith’s hawk let out a sharp, uneasy cry. And maybe some others felt it too. But didn't pressed them.

And Lucien’s wolf cub pressed closer to him, growling low in its throat.

Lucien swallowed, a cold weight settling in his chest.

The countryside was quiet again. Too quiet.

And deep down, he knew this mission wasn’t over.

---

Lucien crouched beside his wolf that night, hand buried in its dark fur. The cub’s eyes gleamed gold in the moonlight, fixed on the three returned students as they slept soundlessly across the barn.

“They came back,” Lucien whispered, “but something about them feels off—.”

The cub huffed softly, then murmured in a voice only Lucien could hear—low, careful, restricted.

Stay close. Don’t trust them.

Lucien froze, breath caught in his throat. Did my cute little cub—

The cub pressed its head against him, saying no more.

Well it's isekai so yeah everything's possible by this point I suppose. 

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