Footprints on the Buried Flag
A low morning mist clung to the ground.
The scent of embers cooled overnight and damp earth hung heavy over the campsite.
Ronan's team was the last to stand in the inspection line.
It was the consequence of taking a detour around the nest the previous day.
Even so, no one dared to mock them.
The red-banded team, who had been dragged out clutching their mud-caked shields, was still busy cleaning their gear in a corner of the camp.
However, the flag stand for Ronan's team was empty.
The small sword insignia emblazoned on the white cloth was gone, as was the knot Dorman had double-checked throughout the night.
Only the bare flag stand remained, jutting up like a missing tooth.
In this forest, the flag was no mere decoration.
It was proof that the team had survived to reach that point.
To lose it meant you had lost your way, and failing to prove who stole it meant you had failed to defend it in the first place.
Cerise's eyes narrowed first, her expression hardening.
Dorman lowered his shield.
"I definitely planted it here yesterday," Dorman said.
Ben scanned the area around the flag stand.
"I tied the rope myself. It didn't come loose—it was cut."
Not even a scrap of cloth remained where the flag had been.
Instead, a deep, muddy boot print left by someone else was stamped into the ground.
Just then, a snicker drifted over from the red-banded team.
"I thought they were some legendary survival team, but they couldn't even protect a single flag?"
It was Kallen, the one who had tumbled into the mud pit the day before.
Dried mud still clung to the tips of his hair.
He belonged to the team that had been struck by their own returned shield yesterday.
Yet, his voice still carried that same greasy sneer he used when shoving others into harm's way.
"If you lose your training flag, you can't get your final destination confirmed. I guess a failure team is destined to fail after all."
Dorman made to take a step forward.
Ronan raised a hand to stop him.
On the back of his hand, the faint imprint of the handkerchief Lya had tied for him yesterday remained.
"Don't step on it," Ronan warned calmly.
At that single command, the team halted.
Lya was the first to drop to her knees.
She didn't touch the footprint.
Instead, she picked up the canteen resting nearby and sniffed it.
"There's dirt at the bottom of our canteen."
Neris approached immediately.
"Was the cap open?"
"No. I tied the knot twice last night. This knot has been redone."
Lya's voice was gentle, but it carried a cold edge.
Neris scraped a bit of the wet dirt from the inside of the canteen with the tip of her fingernail.
She compared it back and forth with the mud next to the flag stand.
"The particle size is different. This isn't the dirt from the campsite. It's soil that dissolved in water once and then clumped back together."
Kallen scoffed.
"Dirt is dirt. Is the failure team blaming the mud now?"
He spoke as he slid his foot forward.
It was the exact moment the toe of his boot was about to smudge the edge of the footprint.
Cerise's scabbard slammed down right in front of his foot.
Thud.
Dirt kicked up.
"Take one more step, and I will use your ankle as a pathway," Cerise commanded, her voice direct and sharp.
Kallen froze.
This time, he couldn't bring himself to laugh.
Lya looked up.
"Whoever tampered with the canteen is the one who took the flag."
Neris spoke almost simultaneously.
"The moisture film on the footprints dried in the same direction. It's the same person."
The two girls looked at each other.
In the past, Lya would have looked for someone to heal first.
Neris would have gathered a useful specimen first.
But now, both of their gazes were locked onto the exact same patch of mud.
Lya observed the damp shape of the earth as if examining a wound.
Neris analyzed the boundary between water and soil as if studying a specimen.
Their methods differed, but their conclusion was identical.
Cerise gave her scabbard a slight twist.
"Then I shall block their escape route."
She didn't move toward Kallen.
Instead, she positioned herself right between the two paths leading out the back of the campsite.
"From this moment on, anyone who crosses this line will be buried by my hand."
Kallen's smirk vanished completely.
Mirea looked up into the canopy of the trees.
"The birds aren't singing."
"Isn't this forest usually quiet anyway?" Ben asked.
"No. The small birds looking for food usually make more noise near human tents. The silence now means someone just disturbed the dirt behind the tents."
Only after hearing that did Ronan look down at the footprint.
The boot prints starting from the flag stand faded away after just three steps.
Beyond that, there was nothing.
It was as if the thief had vanished into thin air.
Dorman's face darkened.
He was not one to hide behind his shield.
But if they lost their flag, the entire team would be relegated back to a group that couldn't protect a single thing.
Ben readied his spear, but there was nowhere to thrust.
A spear could not pierce non-existent footprints.
Kallen raised his voice intentionally.
"See? There are no footprints. At this point, isn't it obvious the ones who lost the flag are just lying?"
Ronan didn't reply.
Instead, he reached out and took Lya's canteen.
"Lya. Can I use a bit of this water?"
Lya nodded without a moment's hesitation.
"If it's to find evidence, yes."
"Wasn't this a medical supply?"
"Today, finding evidence is also healing."
Neris narrowed her eyes.
"That phrasing is illogical, yet persuasive."
Ronan chuckled.
The chuckle was brief.
Soon, a single Phantom Sword manifested in the air.
Its edges wavered far less than before.
The inner blade glowed with a faint, thin light.
Ronan took a steadying breath and lowered the tip of the blade close to the mud.
At that moment, right beside the sword's shadow, a second, even thinner line split off.
The sounds of the forest suddenly seemed to recede.
Even Ronan caught his breath.
Beside the fingertips holding the first blade, a second, yet-unnamed central axis materialized.
Lya watched his wrist, while Cerise tracked the path of the blade.
For the first time, Neris forgot all about her pen.
There was no sound.
No lightning flashed, and no sparks flew.
The mana in the atmosphere simply folded once more, shaping itself into a second sword.
Two Swords
Neris gasped.
"Two Swords..."
Lya looked at Ronan's wrist first.
She had noticed his fingertips tremble ever so slightly the moment the second sword manifested.
Yet, Ronan's expression did not waver.
This was not the time to show off his new power; it was the time to reclaim their stolen proof of survival.
Cerise's gaze wavered as well.
But Ronan did not wait for anyone's admiration.
The first sword shaved away only the thinnest layer of the moisture film on the mud's surface.
The second sword caught a single drop of water falling from the canteen and placed it precisely where the footprints had vanished.
The dry earth darkened with moisture first.
Then, the hidden trail revealed itself.
The footprints hadn't vanished.
The wet boots had stepped over dry leaves, leaving behind no dirt, but rather the compressed direction of the foliage.
Ronan curled his finger once.
The first sword swept away the moisture film on the pressed leaves.
The second sword gently lifted the dust settled between the leaf veins.
The broken trail connected once more.
The line did not lead toward Kallen.
At first, a few onlookers let out disappointed sighs.
However, the trail looped halfway around the campsite, plunging straight into the darkest spot that pretended to be the safest.
It led directly under the tent of the red-banded team.
The smirk completely vanished from Kallen's face.
"It's a coincidence," Kallen stammered.
Cerise drew a line in the dirt with the tip of her scabbard.
"Step onto that coincidence, then."
Kallen couldn't move a muscle.
Mirea slipped behind the tent.
"The scent is strong here. The smell of a wet flag, and the smell of someone terrified."
"You can tell the smell of a person apart?" Dorman muttered.
"It's very easy right now. Everyone is breathing far too loudly."
Lya stood before the tent ropes.
"Kallen, bring out the flag," Lya said.
Kallen gritted his teeth.
"Who do you think you are, ordering me around?"
Ronan spoke quietly.
"She's telling you to bring it out before you get hurt and need a healer."
Before he could finish speaking, a faint tremor vibrated from beneath the earth.
The second Phantom Sword had lightly tapped the end of the flagpole buried deep in the dirt.
The floor of the tent squirmed.
One of the red-banded team members scrambled to press down on the bedding.
Too late.
The first sword loosened the knot on the tent peg by half an inch.
The peg snapped free.
The tent fabric peeled back violently to one side.
Three training flags buried beneath the damp earth shot upward all at once.
The mud clinging to the tips of the flags scattered through the air.
A clump of dried dirt struck Kallen square in the cheek.
He stumbled backward reflexively, only to trip over the wet cloth they had hidden.
Thud.
Kallen ended up on his knees right in front of his own team's tent.
One was Ronan's team flag.
The other two belonged to different teams.
The mud on the ends of the flagpoles plopped down right in front of Kallen's boots.
At the same time, a single wet boot they had hidden rolled out from inside the tent.
The tread pattern on the sole of the boot was an exact match to the footprint left next to Ronan's flag stand.
A heavy silence fell over the campsite.
It was not a silence enforced by the instructor.
It was the silence of everyone witnessing the truth with their own eyes.
The stolen flags had risen from the earth, and the thief knelt on the very mud that bore his matching print.
Kallen opened his mouth.
"This... someone must have put this in our tent—"
"The soil matches the composition of the dirt in the canteen," Neris cut him off.
"And the knot on the canteen was tied by the same hand," Lya added.
This time, they didn't look at each other.
The same conclusion had already firmly established itself in the exact same spot.
Ben let out a low chuckle.
"The thief buried three flags but only left a single footprint."
Dorman raised his shield.
"You've committed a deed heavier than any shield."
The surrounding teams finally began to murmur.
The first to move was a cadet from one of the other teams that had lost their flag.
His face flushed red upon seeing his team's emblem buried there.
"Ours was in there too?"
His voice carried relief even before anger.
Someone ran over to retrieve their flag.
Others took a step back, staring at Kallen's tent with disgust.
Only then did Instructor Hagen approach.
He did not praise Ronan's team.
Nor did he waste breath lecturing Kallen.
The dirt, the boot, and the flags had already spoken for themselves.
He kept his words brief.
"All buried flags will be returned to their original teams. The team responsible for the theft will walk the remainder of the path empty-handed."
Kallen's face turned deathly pale.
Walking empty-handed was a punishment far heavier than demerit points.
It meant they had to prove their path in the Monster Forest without a flag, using the very hands that had stolen from others.
All he had left was a wet boot and the evidence that had risen from beneath his own tent.
Ronan pulled up his team's flag.
Mud splattered up to his wrist.
Lya immediately pulled out her handkerchief.
"Hold still."
"Another medical supply?"
"Today, it's an evidence-cleaning supply."
She wiped the back of Ronan's hand.
As the edge of the handkerchief touched his wrist, Neris grabbed Ronan's other hand from the side.
"Since when could you manifest a second sword?"
"Just now."
"Then I must record your current state."
Lya stopped her wiping.
"Let me clean his hand first."
Neris thought for a moment, then spoke without letting go of Ronan's hand.
"I can observe while you wipe."
Lya's eyes went wide.
"That interferes with treatment."
"Observation during treatment is valid."
"The healer never gave permission."
Ronan couldn't pull his hands away from either of them.
He had just been manipulating two separate swords a moment ago, yet now he found it far more difficult to decide where to place his own hands.
Mirea stifled a laugh from the side.
"You two said you look at the same evidence in different ways, but you sure hold his hands in different ways too."
Cerise took the flag and planted it at the front.
"Save the chatter for the march. This time, our flag leads the way."
The flag of Ronan's team caught the wind once more.
The scent of yesterday's mud and the morning's damp earth mingled at the edge of the fabric.
The lost flag would not cost them points.
The moment it burst from its burial spot, it became public evidence left behind by the thieves themselves.
And by Ronan's side, the faint, lingering afterglow of two swords stood for a brief, fleeting moment before vanishing.