Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece-Chapter 52: The Vipers [1]

Kyle sat hunched over his desk, the faint glow of the mana-lamp casting long shadows across the journal’s pages.

His pen moved quickly, leaving behind neat lines of text in an unfamiliar script.

The language was French - something that shouldn’t exist in this world, but remained his private cipher from a past life.

He set the pen down with a sigh, rubbing at his temples.

The problem went beyond simply stealing the sword from the Vipers.

Nothing was unfolding as it should have. The deviations from the novel’s plot kept piling up, each one more unsettling than the last.

The entrance exam had featured four Silver-Rank monsters instead of three.

The VR combat trials had been restructured into partnered battles rather than the free-for-all described in the story.

And Instructor Vaylen, in the original narrative he had been just another demonic human. Here, he had turned out to be a literal puppet for some shadowy group called the Crimson Maw - an organization never mentioned in the books.

Kyle flipped back through earlier entries, his stomach tightening with each page.

While he desperately wanted to change the disastrous future he remembered, the uncertainty of not knowing what came next was its own special kind of torment.

A soft chime from his mana band interrupted his thoughts.

The holographic display flickered to life, revealing a message from Gray Owl Consultations - the information brokers he had hired.

Their report was impressively thorough, especially considering how small-time they currently were. In the novel’s timeline, they would eventually become the most reliable intelligence network in the kingdom.

The document laid out everything he needed to know about the Vipers:

Garrick Voss led the gang - a Grade 3 Silver-Rank fighter specializing in brutal close-quarters combat.

His second-in-command was a former mercenary named Risha who handled most daily operations.

Their territory covered Maplewood’s slums and industrial sectors, with fingers in smuggling, protection rackets, and the black-market mana trade.

Most importantly, the report confirmed Garrick had purchased an "ornamental sword" at auction three months prior.

The attached image showed a curved blade with an unusual guard design. Kyle’s fingers tightened around his mana band. That was it - the Growth-Type Artifact that could evolve with its wielder.

In the original story, this weapon had fallen into the hands of demonic cultist.

The second attachment contained his new identity documents.

Dain Vorsk - dishonorably discharged from the 14th Blackwatch for excessive force, with forged credentials listing experience in bounty enforcement and tactical operations.

The craftsmanship was better than he had expected, complete with backdated records and witness testimonies to sell the cover.

Leaning back in his chair, Kyle exhaled slowly.

The pieces were coming together. Now he just needed to infiltrate the Vipers and locate that sword before anyone realized its true nature.

The thought sent a familiar thrill through him - the same mix of anticipation he had felt before trying the new game in his past life.

Outside his window, the first light of dawn crept across the academy grounds.

Kyle closed the journal and stretched, his muscles protesting from hours spent hunched over the desk.

He had classes to attend. But his mind was already in Maplewood, walking the razor’s edge between opportunity and disaster.

***

It was Friday, marking the end of another grueling week.

Kyle leaned against the windowsill of his room.

Two days.

Saturday and Sunday were academy holidays—no classes, no obligations. The perfect window to slip away unnoticed.

But there was one problem.

Aurelia.

His overprotective sister-slash-instructor would skin him alive if she found out he was sneaking off to infiltrate a gang hideout.

He could already hear her voice in his head—"Are you out of your damn mind?"—followed by a lecture about responsibility and reckless decisions.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

’Screw it. A note will have to do.’

Kyle grabbed a scrap of parchment and scribbled a quick message:

— Gone to the Bronze Rank Dungeon for training. Back Monday. Don’t worry.

He hesitated, then added:

— P.S. Don’t wait up.

Not his best lie, but it would have to work. He left the note on his pillow where she would find it later.

The academy gates loomed ahead, the enchanted wards humming faintly as he passed through. A few students lingered nearby, chatting or heading into the city for the weekend. None of them paid him any attention.

Good.

Kyle slipped into the maze of Valtheris back alleys, where the polished marble of the noble districts gave way to cracked cobblestones and the scent of cheap street food.

The shadows here were deeper, the lanterns fewer. Perfect for what he needed to do.

He pulled a silver ring from his storage ring—the Disguise Artifact he had borrowed from Aurelia’s collection.

(He stole that)

The ring was cool against his skin as he slid it onto his finger. A faint pulse of mana rippled over him, reshaping his features.

His sharp jaw softened, adding years to his face, dulling his bright mismatched eyes to a tired green, streaking his bluish-black hair with black.

He hunched his shoulders slightly, adopting the weary stance of a man who had seen too many fights.

He glanced at his reflection on his phone.

Dain Vorsk stared back.

***

The station was bustling despite the late hour. Merchants, travelers, and the occasional shady figure milled about, waiting for the next departure.

The air smelled of oil and ozone, the hum of mana-powered engines vibrating through the platform.

Kyle kept his head down as he approached the ticket counter—or rather, the floating robotic attendant that handled purchases.

The machine hovered at chest height, its smooth metal surface gleaming under the artificial lights.

A single blue lens scanned him as he approached.

"Destination?" it chirped in a synthetic voice.

Kyle hesitated for half a second before answering.

"Maplewood."

The robot beeped, then spat out a thin slip of paper—his ticket.

"Departure in twelve minutes. Platform three."

Kyle pocketed the ticket and moved toward the platform, weaving through the crowd. His heart pounded just a little faster than usual.

No turning back now.

The train hissed as it pulled into the station, its sleek metal body humming with restrained energy.

The doors slid open with a quiet whoosh, revealing rows of empty seats.

Kyle stepped inside, took a seat by the window, and exhaled slowly.

Next stop: Maplewood.

***