The investigation began immediately.
Officers and warrant officers patrolled the halls in pairs, questioning supply personnel, scanning entry logs, ordering emergency rations. The atmosphere of Grim Hollow had shifted into survival mode.
Bright and his newly formed squad gathered in formation before sunrise, tension hanging over them like storm clouds.
"Listen up," Sergeant Tyven barked, pacing before them. "We have a high-level internal breach. This is no random incident. Someone inside sabotaged our stores."
The older members of Bright’s squad exchanged uneasy glances.
The speed-enhanced girl, Lira , folded her arms. "Why would anyone starve their own outpost?"
The older fire-ability wielder, Rolf—the one who’d challenged Bright earlier—snorted. "Because humans are idiots. This proves it."
The calm-mind girl, Mara, whispered, "Or because something is influencing them."
"Influencing?" Juno asked.
Nea nodded. "Some monsters can manipulate the minds of lesser men. But... this doesn’t smell like a monster’s plan."
Rolf scoffed. "Looks like command’s been letting the rat chew the wires, if they could be here this long to get access to our food supply "
Nea’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t answer.
Bright stood in silence, listening to the undercurrents of the conversation. His danger sense fluttered softly—not with immediate threat, but with tension. Disagreement. Distrust weaving through them like invisible lines.
Sergeant Tyven continued.
"You will all report to sector eight for re-certification. No one leaves alone. No one touches storage without clearance. No one—"
A whistle sliced through the air.
An emergency horn.
Tyven cursed. "What now?!"
A runner sprinted across the yard. "Sir! We found something during the sweep!"
Tyven grabbed him. "What?"
The soldier swallowed, trembling.
"We found a symbol left behind by the perpetrators."
The symbol looked like a smear of black ink in the shape of an eye.
But the moment Bright saw it, a cold shudder ran through him.
It felt wrong.
Alive.
Printed on the wall behind the water purification tank, the runic eye seemed to pulse faintly in the dim light. Soldiers murmured anxiously behind him.
Fen whispered, "It has the feel of something the Shroud itself might have breathed on, like a curse."
Lira frowned, rubbing her temple. "It’s not a curse. It’s... like a belief seal. Something worship-based. It’s probably a faith hex; I heard about it in the republic. It can burrow into the mind of commoners, given them a false positive impression of the cult."
Bright asked softly, "I thought they are no gods in this world, so what do they worship?"
Silence.
Then a voice answered from behind them.
"The Great One."
Everyone turned.
Master sergeant Calren stepped forward, face stiff and drawn. His voice carried the weight of someone used to speaking hard truths.
"Some of you have heard whispers. Some haven’t. But you need to know. This mark belongs to the Umbral Covenant."
Even the officers nearby flinched at the name.
Bright frowned. "Who are they?"
Calren looked at him, eyes grim.
"People who believe the Shroud isn’t an enemy... but a doorway. They believe death is liberation. That humanity must ’return’ to some ancient being buried in the fog—The Great One."
Mara’s lip curled. "That’s insane."
"Insane or not," Calren said, "they’ve been growing. Recruiting. Spreading misinformation. Slipping into outposts."
Rolf spat on the ground. "Why haven’t we heard about them?"
"Because the Republic thought hiding their existence would prevent panic. Who’s gonna sign up to fight monsters, when there a so many of them on your home ground?"
Bright stiffened.
There it was again.
The lie.
Fen muttered, "So we’ve been fighting blind."
Calren didn’t deny it.
He simply added, "The Covenant strikes when it hurts most. They don’t kill directly—they weaken the Republic from the inside."
Lira scowled. "Why target food?"
Calren’s face darkened. "To delay the northern campaign. To force starvation. To create desperation. They believe starving us makes us ’closer’ to their Great One. To be honest, no one is really sure of what does fanatics want. Most of them are sleeper cell’s waiting to be activated. They could be your parents who came into the republic years ago and gave birth to you, the vendor you get your meals from in the streets, a child of 8 that has nowhere else to go, possibly anyone, so you can see why the republic is so tight lipped about it "
Bright’s hands clenched.
People could die... because of a belief?
Calren continued.
"And the worst part: they never act alone. There’s always a network. A cell."
Bright asked quietly, "How many are here?"
Calren’s silence was answer enough.
Fen whispered, "Multiple."
Bright swallowed.
Everything he’d believed about the world—about good, evil, the threats humanity faced—was tangling into something much darker.
Monsters weren’t the only danger.
Humans could sink lower.
Deeper.
Into madness.
Later that night, Bright sat alone atop the outpost wall, staring out into the frozen horizon. The wind tugged at his jacket and carried the faint scent of burning fuel from the generators.
He wasn’t glowing anymore.
But his mind wasn’t quiet.
He whispered to the empty night, "Why hide this from us?"
He didn’t expect an answer.
But his danger sense tingled faintly... not from threat, but from realization.
Because fear kept civilians obedient.
Because ignorance kept fledglings loyal.
Because the Republic wasn’t a perfect beacon of protection—it was a desperate structure built on half-truths, trying to survive something it barely understood.
Bright exhaled slowly.
"You lied to us," he murmured to the invisible leaders far away. "And now your lie is killing people."
The moon overhead drifted through the fog, pale and silent.
The northern campaign was postponed.
The Shroud would expand.
The cult would strike again.
And deep inside the outpost, unknown to them all, Larkin Oyesa—the spy—watched Bright from a shadowed balcony, eyes narrowed.
"That glow... he’s the one who advanced recently ," Larkin whispered. "The youngest initiate,looks like no one really made a big deal out of it because of how hectic the army is. There would have been a spectacle if he was in the republic."
A smile crept across his face.
"The Great One will want his soul."