“Captain Hern, are you sure that Squire didn’t defect to the other side?”

“Watch your mouth, Stain, or I’ll rip it off.”

“The caravan should have reached Dzeth almost three weeks ago,” Stain said sharply “The route’s safe, except for the Evont Cluster. But Rakel and the caravan supposedly passed through that.”

“Rakel isn’t that kind of man,” Hern said firmly.

“Fine, fine.” Stain raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you can’t deny it’s odd.”

“What were you border dogs doing in Thal’rasha anyway? Huh?” Hern spat, irritated by Stain “Tch. Why are you even here with me?”

“Orders from above,” Stain said with a smirk, brushing sand off his shoulder. “Can’t help it, Captain. The rulers are anxious with everything happening in Arazan.”

Hern kicked at the loose sand, sending a small spray scattering over his boots. “The sewer rats again? How in the hell did those filth get past the Order of Juh?”

Stain shrugged lazily. “No idea.”

Stain was one of the border captains of Kastar, part of an elite force akin to the Order of Juh. With recent events involving the Rat Knights, a few of these units, including Stain and some higher-ranking officers, had been called back to investigate.

The disappearance of Rakel and the slave caravan after passing through the Evont Cluster had triggered an investigation notice to Thal’rasha.

General Koles had been held responsible for the mishap, and Captain Hern and Stain were dispatched to uncover the truth under his orders

An investigative notice for a slave caravan—bullshit. Someone wants Koles out, Stain thought.

“It’s an awful lot of people to trace a caravan,” he remarked, glancing at the squad trailing behind.

Hern and Stain were full-fledged knights, accompanied by a small unit of soldiers, two 3rd-class Magus, and a tracer.

“Koles was fond of Rakel." Hern sighed

“That old fart? Fond of a squire?” Stain scoffed.

“Watch your mouth, border dog,” Hern snapped. “Rakel wasn’t just any squire. He was already at the level of a low-level knight.”

“It’s not unheard of,” Stain replied, running a hand through his hair. “Plenty of squires from Arazan reach that level by his age.”

“Rakel started training two years ago.”

Stain’s eyes widened, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words. “Then that was a huge loss.”

“Indeed. Koles invested a lot into him,” Hern admitted. “If he defected, it would all go to waste.”

Stain scratched his head and glanced at the tracer. The hooded figure carried a special stone apparatus etched with glowing glyphs.

“Are we there yet?” Stain asked.

The tracer examined the device and shook his head. “No signs yet, Captain. Wait, so—”

A sudden, faint glow enveloped the apparatus. The tracer scrambled and said, “Captain, it’s showing something—right up ahead.”

“Squad, alert!” Stain barked, unsheathing his sword.

The signs pointed to the middle of the desert. There was a strong chance the caravan had been attacked—either by monsters or a bandit group. Stain, with his experience, knew better than to rush in blindly.

The Magus adjusted their gloves as they prepared for a fight.

Raising a hand, Stain signaled for caution and advanced with Hern. The trail led them toward the far side of a towering sand dunes.

As Stain walked up the dune, his breath caught, and his eyes widened at the sight below.

Stolen story; please report.

“Stain, what is it?” Hern asked, tugging on his shoulder. “Why did y—”

He froze mid-sentence. The desert lay eerily still, littered with shattered rocks and bones. Skulls and skeletons—human and beast alike—were scattered in the sand, drenched in the vulgar stench of acid and rotting flesh.

Birds and desert scavengers feasted on the remains. The sand below had turned a faint red, soaking the blood.

“What... what happened here?” Stain murmured.

“It’s clear,” Hern called back to the others, though his voice wavered.

“Let’s get closer,” he said, turning to Stain.

As they went closer, the smell of the rotting flesh became stronger, and the birds took off into the clear sky.

They descended the dune, the acrid smell of flesh grew stronger. The sudden flurry of wings broke as the desert scavenger birds took to the sky.

“Ugh…” Hern covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve at the stench.

Stain, unfazed, scanned the surroundings. The rest of the group followed his lead, their faces pale as they moved carefully through the sea of remains.

“The worst has happened, Hern,” Stain muttered, inspecting the remains with his gloved hands.

“What do you mean?” Hern asked, his voice muffled behind his sleeve.

“It seems the caravan fell prey to bone-eaters.”

“Bone-eaters? On this route?” Hern frowned.

“Odd, isn’t it?” Stain replied, gesturing at the scattered remains. “But these are normal bone-eaters. A squire of Rakel’s caliber should have been able to handle them easily.”

“Captain, come take a look at this,” the tracer called out, his voice tinged with urgency.

The two knights approached to find a larger skeleton—the carcass of an elder bone-eater. Its flesh hung in rotting strips, riddled with worms writhing through. Stain knelt by the creature’s skull, examining the jawbones.

“An elder?” Stain clicked his tongue in frustration.

Nearby lay the lower body skeleton of a human. A rusted sword lay half-buried in the sand beside it, glinting faintly in the sunlight.

The tracer exhaled sharply, pointing at the remains. “This appears to be Rakel’s body.”

Hern’s clicked his tongue. “This doesn’t add up.”

“How could he die fighting an elder? A squire of his caliber should have been able to kill one,” he said, shaking his head.

“And this is an open plain,” Stain added grimly. “There’s no terrain disadvantage here.”

The tracer crouched near the elder’s remains. “By the looks of it, Rakel managed to kill this elder before he fell.”

Stain rose to his feet and ordered, “Search the area for more clues.”

The rest of the unit scattered out, scouring the scene. They uncovered scattered remnants of the slaves—tattered leather armor, rusted weapons embedded in the sand, and shredded rags partially consumed by scavengers. Nearby lay the half-eaten bodies of soldiers and slaves, their bones picked clean by desert birds.

As Stain scanned the scene, his gaze fell upon a skeleton severed at the waist. It lay outside the main zone of the battle, partially buried in the sand. Tattered rags and shards of armor clung to its bones, and within its ribcage, a rusted badge caught the sunlight.

“Hmm… Could this be the rest of the squire’s remains?” he muttered to himself, crouching down for a closer look.

The cuts aren’t clean—more like deep tears. Claws, most likely.

“Interesting,” he mumbled, standing and brushing the sand from his gloves before heading back toward the unit.

Nearby, the tracer knelt with his stone apparatus, its runes confirming the identities of several soldier corpses.

“Koles must be furious,” Stain remarked as he joined Hern.

“Surely,”

“It’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” Hern asked, frowning

“Bone-eaters on this route,” Stain replied, gesturing at the scene. “By the looks of it, there were two elder bone-eaters here.”

“Is that surprising?”

Stain sighed, shaking his head. “You city-knights wouldn’t understand this, but elder bone-eaters never work together.”

“Huh? Why’s that?” Hern asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“An elder bone-eater acts as a commander,” Stain explained. “It leads its unit, and there’s no need for two commanders in a single group.”

“That’s strange. Didn’t elders group up during the horde attacks a few years ago?” Hern asked.

Stain sighed. “The horde was different. Those elders were led by an Ancient,” he said “Ancients are unique—one of a kind. Elders can’t resist their control.”

“There might be a ch—” Hern began, only for Stain to cut him off.

“No.” Stain’s frown deepened. “An Ancient making a move would mean an all-out war, Hern.”

Hern fell silent, swallowing hard. He knew better than to argue on matters like this. Stain’s experience as a border knight, seasoned by countless experiences that far exceeded his own.

“But you know what’s weirder than that?”

“What?” asked Hern.

“Where are the Ish’raks?”

“What do you mean? Their remains are here, aren’t they?”

“Not all of them,” Stain said shaking his head. “And notice something else—the skeletons are intact. Bone-eaters consume their prey. You really expect me to believe the elder that killed Rakel just left without consuming anything?”

The tracer jogged back to the group, his face tense. “We’ve identified the soldiers’ remains, Captain.”

Stain folded his arms “What about the slaves?”

The tracer hesitated. “Should we… do something about them?”

Hern clicked his tongue in disgust. “Why would we waste time on those filth?”

“Right…” the tracer murmured, looking down.

“Retrieve any weapons and badges from the soldiers. Leave nothing useful behind.” Stain said

The tracer stepped closer, lowering his voice. “According to the records, one slave is unaccounted for.”

Stain’s eyes narrowed. “Send it to her.”

The tracer’s face paled. “Are you certain, Captain? If she gets involved, this will escalate into something much bigger.”

“It already is,” Stain replied, his voice low. “Hern doesn’t know the full picture, and you’re aware of Koles’s ties to the faction.”

The tracer’s reluctantly asked . “This… this was a targeted attack?”

Stain’s sighed. “Exactly.”

“Hey, Border dog!” Hern’s voice rang out from a distance. “What are you doing over there? The investigation’s done!”

Stain clicked his tongue in irritation before turning back to the tracer. “You have your orders. Do as I say.”

The tracer hesitated briefly, then nodded. “Understood, Captain.”