The Extra's Rise-Chapter 298: Third Mission (5)

"Where's the briefing again?" Rachel asked as we stepped into the corridor, the stark lighting here a contrast to the warmer atmosphere of the mess hall. The passageway bustled with morning activity, personnel moving with purpose rather than haste.

"Command center, east wing," Rose replied promptly, as if she'd memorized the entire compound layout overnight. Knowing Rose, she probably had. "We passed it during our tour yesterday. Third intersection, right turn, past the auxiliary communications hub, second set of security doors on the left."

We made our way through the compound, our academy uniforms standing out against the functional military attire of those we passed. The contrast emphasized our outsider status—we were guests here, temporary additions to a well-established ecosystem. The frontier outpost was fully awake now, personnel moving with purpose through corridors, carrying equipment, checking systems, maintaining the constant vigilance that kept the border secure. The hum of machinery and the occasional muffled announcement created a constant backdrop of sound—the heartbeat of the outpost's operations.

The command center was housed in one of the more heavily reinforced sections of the complex, nestled deep within layers of security measures. The architecture here was noticeably different—less concern for aesthetics, more emphasis on function and protection. The walls were thicker, the doors heavier, the surveillance more obvious. Security here was visibly tighter—more guards, more scanners, more restricted access points. Our passes were checked twice before we were allowed to proceed to the briefing room, first by an automated system and then by a stern-faced woman whose eyes lingered on each of us as if committing our faces to memory.

"Mythos Academy students, Class 2-A," she said, not quite a question but not quite a statement either. "Marshal Meilyn is expecting you." There was something in her tone—not quite awe, but a certain weight to her words that suggested she'd heard stories about us, or perhaps about the academy in general.

Grand Marshal Meilyn was already there when we entered, studying a three-dimensional holographic map that hovered above the central table. Various points on the display glowed with different colors, representing data I couldn't immediately interpret. She didn't look up immediately, focused on whatever tactical information the display was providing. Her posture was perfect, her blue hair falling in a precise curtain that framed her face. Even standing still, she radiated an aura of command that filled the room.

The room itself was impressive—cutting-edge technology seamlessly integrated with practical design. Screens lined the walls, some showing terrain data, others monitoring various sectors of the frontier. Tactical displays updated in real-time, showing patrol movements, sensor readings, and what appeared to be mana concentration levels across different regions.

A few other officers were present, standing at attention near the walls, their expressions carefully neutral. I recognized Private Rogis among them, though his posture was considerably stiffer in the Marshal's presence. He gave us the briefest of nods as we entered, a nearly imperceptible acknowledgment that somehow managed to convey both greeting and warning simultaneously.

"So," Meilyn said finally, looking up from the map to regard us with those penetrating golden eyes that seemed to see more than just physical appearance. "The academy's finest, ready for their first real assignment." Her gaze swept over us, assessing, calculating, lingering briefly on each face before moving on. Her gaze lingered on Clana, who was making a valiant effort to look fully awake, the slight tremor in her eyelids the only betrayal of her internal struggle against sleep. "More or less."

"Let's begin, shall we?" she said.

Marshal Meilyn tapped the holographic display, causing the map to zoom in on a specific region. The terrain was mostly forested, with rolling hills and a narrow river cutting through it. A glowing line marked what I assumed was the border between human territory and the lands beyond.

"Your mission is straightforward," she said, her tone clipped and efficient. "Reconnaissance of Sector 17." Her finger traced a path that extended approximately five kilometers beyond the border. "We've detected unusual movement patterns in this area over the past week. Nothing alarming, but something has changed."

The hologram shifted, showing heat signature data and movement patterns represented by colored dots. The patterns were subtle—nothing that screamed immediate danger, but definitely a deviation from what I assumed was normal.

"Typically, the ogre clans in this region maintain consistent patrol routes. They're creatures of habit," Meilyn continued. "But these patrols have shifted. They're avoiding this area entirely." She indicated a roughly circular region near a small hill. "We need to know why."

Rose leaned forward, studying the map intently. "Any theories?"

"Several," Meilyn replied. "Could be a territorial dispute between clans. Could be they found something they want to keep to themselves. Could be nothing at all. That's what you're going to find out."

She looked at each of us in turn, her golden eyes assessing. "This is a reconnaissance mission only. You go in, observe, document, and return. No engagement unless absolutely necessary for survival. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," I said, nodding. The others murmured their agreement, even Clana, who had finally achieved something resembling full consciousness.

"You'll be equipped with standard reconnaissance gear—mana-dampening cloaks, short-range comms, documentation devices. The mission area is beyond our surveillance network, so you'll be on your own once you cross the marker." Meilyn's expression remained neutral, but her next words carried weight. "This is a low-risk assignment, but 'low-risk' doesn't mean 'no risk.' The frontier is unpredictable."

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She gestured to Private Rogis, who stepped forward with a tablet. "The detailed briefing is here. Review it thoroughly before departure. You leave at 0900."

With that, she straightened, signaling the end of the briefing. "Questions?"

"Extraction protocol?" I asked.

"Standard emergency beacon if you run into trouble. Otherwise, return to Checkpoint Delta by 1700 hours. If you're not back by then, we send in a retrieval team." Her lips curved in what might have been a smile on anyone else. "Try not to need it. Paperwork is excessive."

Rachel raised her hand, which seemed oddly formal given the setting, but entirely in character for her. "Are there any specific artifacts or phenomena we should be looking for?"

Meilyn considered this for a moment. "The ogre clans typically avoid areas where miasma concentrations are high. If they're steering clear of this region, it could indicate a leak or surge. Your Saintess abilities might be particularly useful in detecting that."

Rachel nodded, looking pleased to have her skills specifically acknowledged.

"If there are no further questions, you're dismissed to prepare. Rogis will show you to the equipment room."

As we turned to leave, Meilyn added one final comment. "Nightingale."

I paused, looking back at her.

"This is a simple mission. Keep it that way."

I nodded, recognizing the subtle warning for what it was. Clearly, my reputation had preceded me.

An hour later, we were suited up and ready to depart. The reconnaissance gear was high quality—lightweight armor beneath mana-dampening cloaks that would help mask our presence from both conventional and magical detection. The documentation devices were compact but powerful, capable of recording visual, audio, and mana signatures simultaneously.

"This is actually exciting," Rachel whispered as we approached the checkpoint that would take us beyond the frontier's defensive perimeter. She looked different in the field gear—less like the radiant Saintess and more like the capable combatant I knew she could be when necessary.

"It's a glorified nature walk," Clana muttered, though even she seemed more alert now, her fingers absently tracing spell patterns in the air—a habit she'd developed to keep her casting reflexes sharp.

Rose adjusted her equipment one final time, every movement precise. "Nature walk or not, stay alert. Ogres may be predictable in their patrols, but they're unpredictable in their reactions."

The checkpoint was a reinforced outpost at the edge of the frontier's defensive line—the last bit of human civilization before the wilderness beyond. A small team of soldiers manned it, monitoring the border for any signs of incursion.

The officer in charge, a weathered woman with lieutenant's bars and eyes that had seen more than they should, gave us a final once-over.

"Follow your waypoints," she advised, pointing to the navigation device I'd been given as team leader. "The path will keep you clear of known patrol routes. Maintain comm silence unless absolutely necessary. Sound travels further than you'd think out there."

With a final nod, she activated the gate in the perimeter fence, creating an opening just large enough for us to pass through single file.

"Good hunting," she said, though we weren't hunting anything.

Or so we thought.

The frontier beyond the perimeter was both exactly what I expected and somehow totally different. The forest wasn't dark and foreboding as stories often portrayed the wilderness; it was vibrant, alive with colors and sounds that had a primal energy to them. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, creating dappled patterns on the forest floor. Birds called to each other overhead. If not for the knowledge that we were in potentially hostile territory, it might have been peaceful.

"It's beautiful," Rachel murmured, voicing my thoughts.

"And dangerous," Rose added, ever practical. "Stay focused."

We moved in formation—I took point, with Rose and Rachel behind me, and Clana covering our rear. For someone who seemed perpetually exhausted, Clana moved with surprising grace through the undergrowth, one hand always poised to cast a defensive spell at the first sign of trouble.

The navigation device led us along a winding path that avoided open areas when possible, keeping us under the cover of the forest canopy. According to the map, we were making good time toward our objective.

About three kilometers in, Rachel suddenly paused, her head tilting slightly as if listening to something only she could hear.

"What is it?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"I'm not sure," she replied, her brow furrowed in concentration. "There's something... off about the mana currents here."

We all stopped, instinctively forming a defensive circle as Rachel closed her eyes, extending her senses. As a Saintess, her ability to detect and purify corrupted mana was unparalleled among our group.

"It's subtle," she said finally. "But there's a pattern to the flow that isn't natural. It's being directed."

"Toward our objective?" Rose asked.

Rachel nodded slowly. "I think so. Like water flowing downhill, but... deliberately channeled."

That was interesting. Mana flowing naturally tended to create random patterns, following the path of least resistance. Directed flow meant intelligence, purpose. It meant someone or something was manipulating the energy.