The town of Parnis wasn't large, but it had a functioning guild. Made up of two stone buildings, a registration point, and an exterior mission board, it was exactly what a frontier area needed. Albert's group entered the town without complications. No one questioned them. But the atmosphere was different. People spoke little. And watched more than they greeted.
— They're watching us with their eyes closed, Leon said flatly after they passed a second tavern.
Albert didn't answer. He was already looking toward the guild building.
— Do we go in? Kaelya asked.
— We go in, Albert confirmed.
The exterior board was full. Missions ranged from rank G to C. The higher-tier ones (B, A) were in a locked drawer, accessible only to authorized members.
Leon approached the board and started reading:
"Extermination: swamp creatures south of the Tars River. Rank F."
"Search: missing caravans in Copper Valley. Rank E."
"Escort: minor priest from the village of Brel. Rank G."
Kaelya noticed a detail:
— Look here. The Instability Valley. That's exactly where we were validated. The guild's already sending people there.
Albert nodded.
— The system's efficient. It doesn't wait for official confirmation. It just detects anomalies and assigns resources.
A man in light armor stepped out of the building and looked at the three.
— New in town?
— Just passing through, Leon replied.
— If you're registered with a guild, we've got missions. If not... we've got nothing to talk about officially.
— We're just observing. Not looking for a rank, Albert said.
— As you wish. But without an insignia, you get no information. No protection either.
The man gestured briefly and walked off.
Inside, a group of four adventurers spoke quietly. One wore a D badge, two had E, and the tallest among them wore C — a wolf engraved in black steel, the recognized symbol for that rank.
Kaelya whispered to Leon:
— Is that the standard classification?
— Yeah. G for beginners, S for exceptions. C's already serious. Real missions. Combat. Combined magic. Risk.
Albert studied a side panel. One mission was circled twice in red chalk:
> "Zone NE 22 – unstable flux detected. Access for Rank B+ only. Reward: negotiable. Approved by Local Council. Signed: Mobile Archive R3."
— The reaction has started, he said simply.
— They're preparing for active monitoring.
In a short interlude elsewhere in the world, Zhelenya stood in a flux analysis chamber. On a screen of living stone, a pulsing line kept breaking at the same point.
— This isn't a data void. It's a willed erasure. Someone rewrote part of reality without requesting access.
An assistant asked:
— Do we report it to the Council?
Zhelenya responded without hesitation:
— Not yet. But mark this signal. Zone NE 22. Maybe it's not a place — maybe it's a decision.
Back in Parnis, the three headed toward the inn. They weren't speaking, but the tension had risen. Not from them. From the world that had started to sense something was wrong. And the guild was the first structure to react — not with fear, but with protocol.
Albert picked up a piece of paper from the ground. A child had dropped it. It was a simple copy of a mission form. In the upper-right corner, someone had drawn with charcoal: ∞.
Albert said nothing. He placed it on the inn's table and silently watched as the day ended outside.
The next morning, the town of Parnis remained as quiet as when they had arrived. No guards had been posted at their inn, and no scouts had followed them. But every merchant, traveler, and tavern worker who passed by seemed to glance twice—once out of habit, and once out of instinct.
Albert, Kaelya, and Leon sat at a side table in the inn's common room. The same mission form from the day before was still on the table, with the charcoal infinity symbol in the corner.
— That's not a coincidence, Kaelya said quietly.
Leon nodded.
— Someone saw something. Even if they don't know what.
Albert looked out the window.
— The world doesn't remember me. But something in it still recognizes the weight I leave behind.
At the same time, in the back chamber of the local adventurer's guild, two senior guild agents reviewed the previous day's guild log. A particular line caught their attention:
> "Unidentified party observed. Not registered. No hostile action. Flux reading unstable but non-aggressive. Observation level raised."
— Are they the same ones that showed up in the NE 22 zone?
— No confirmation. But the pattern fits.
— Want to tag them for formal evaluation?
— Not yet. Let's see if they react to any offer.
Outside, the mission board had been refreshed overnight. Several notices had been removed, replaced by two new ones marked with yellow borders—an indicator of "flexible classification."
Kaelya stopped in front of them.
— Look at this one. "Investigation: Disruption of Memory Runes in the Valley Shrine. Rank: Variable. Priority: Unclear."
Leon read the fine print.
— "Payment guaranteed. Additional bonuses for contextual feedback." What kind of mission is that?
Albert stepped forward.
— It's a test. They want to know if someone will react to memory instability. Which means they've detected the resync delay left behind by the spell I used.
— You think it's aimed at us?
— Not directly. But if we take it, we'll be confirming we're aware of the rupture.
Leon looked at Kaelya, then at Albert.
— So? Do we accept it?
Albert didn't respond immediately. He picked up the notice, turned it over, and looked at the contact glyph.
— Guild Central Relay. That means the request came from a higher office, not local.
Kaelya narrowed her eyes.
— So we've officially entered the attention radius.
Albert nodded once.
— Then we choose how to respond: retreat and let them invent explanations… or step into the map and leave new traces they can't misread.
Back at the guild, a junior clerk wrote a note in a private logbook.
> "Mission V-014 was removed from board by unidentified traveler at dawn. Confirmation pending."
He filed the page, unaware that the ink shimmered faintly as it dried.
Elsewhere, in the vaults beneath the Watcher's Tower, a sealed console lit up for the first time in months. A signal with no sender. Only a confirmation line:
> "Subject has re-entered observed causality."
In the hours that followed, no one stopped them. No official agent approached the inn. But Kaelya could clearly feel they were being watched. Not through magic, not through devices, but through something more subtle: the glances of merchants, the precisely timed questions, the carefully quiet surroundings.
Leon had left the inn briefly, saying he needed information about the southern roads. When he returned, his voice had dropped half a tone.
— They asked who the woman reading the board was. Nothing about me or you, Albert. Just her.
Kaelya didn't seem surprised.
— They're reacting to the most human-looking among us. I seem the most "normal."
Albert nodded.
— People don't search for anomalies in strength. They sense them in the detail that doesn't fit the pattern.
Later that afternoon, in a secondary guild facility, a surveillance chamber recorded movement on the mission board. A rank B agent, designated as a mobile evaluator, watched the footage three times. In a corner of the room, a flux orb measured magical vibrations nearby.
— They touched the document. Didn't return it. Didn't scan it.
Another evaluator asked:
— Destabilized signal?
— No. That's the problem. The flux was absorbed, not manipulated. Someone nullified the tracking effect without triggering any defenses.
Back at the inn, the three of them left the building. They weren't fleeing. But they also didn't linger. They had no fixed destination, but they already knew where they were heading. As they exited the town, Albert said:
— The next village has a less centralized structure. No guild, no control fluxes. Just people.
— And what if they talk? Leon asked.
— Let them talk. A truth that spreads person to person carries more weight than one delivered by an office.
In a city 200 kilometers away, inside a high-level archive center, an analyst presented a report to an evaluation council:
> "The entity's flux from NE 22 wasn't recognized by any valid identification system. Threat level: undefined. Strategic intelligence level: high. Recommendation: extended passive observation, avoid direct engagement."
One of the council members asked:
— And what if they're not hostile?
— Then we have a bigger problem. A capable actor who doesn't demand anything, doesn't threaten, doesn't negotiate... is harder to anticipate than a hostile one.
At sunset, Albert, Kaelya, and Leon were crossing an area of low vegetation and dry soil. No words had been spoken for several minutes. Kaelya broke the silence:
— Did you believe the world would forget you completely?
Albert replied without hesitation:
— No. But I hoped it would start over without fear.
Leon pulled his cloak tighter around him.
— And if the world starts to remember again?
— Then we'll find out who we really are.
By the next morning, the group had reached a nameless village nestled between two low hill chains. It had no guild, no organized guard, but it did have an active marketplace, a tavern, and a small trading center used by traveling merchants.
— There's no recognition flux here, Leon confirmed. None of the active networks show up on the map.
Albert looked around. No signs of magitek structures. Only wood, stone, and people going about their lives.
— That's exactly why, he said. Here, truth can circulate freely.
In a modest tavern, Kaelya spoke with a woman selling herbs. The conversation seemed mundane: recipes, weather, trade routes. But at one point, the woman said:
— Two nights ago, an old man dreamed of a star that didn't burn. He said he knew he had forgotten something. But he didn't know what.
Kaelya froze for a second, then asked calmly:
— And what did the old man do?
— He drew a symbol in the mud behind his house. No one erased it. It looked like a sideways eight.
At the same time, in a regional capital, a central archive received an emergency request from an adventurers' guild:
> "Requesting authorization for a rank A team to investigate memory loss phenomena in the NE zone. Risk level: unknown. Initial command signed by mobile evaluator: K-21."
Officials spoke quickly:
— Do we have enough evidence?
— Not about what it is. But we do about what's missing.
— Approve the deployment. But no emergency tags. Send them as an evaluation expedition.
At the edge of the village, Albert stood beside a well, looking down into it. He wasn't searching. Just sensing the world's movement. Leon quietly approached.
— What's next?
Albert responded without turning his head:
— A first intersection. Where all structures approach us—each without admitting what they're truly after.
— And what do we choose?
— We choose not to hide.
In an underground chamber of a high-tier academy, a short message was etched automatically onto a stone wall:
> "Previously validated entity in the Nameless Zone has been located near node T-7. Active compatibility, but undefined. Observation level: silent."
A woman in white murmured to herself:
— It demands nothing. Yet it doesn't vanish. An anomaly that cooperates without speaking... is the beginning of a new era.
In the village, as the sun rose higher, a child approached Albert and handed him a smooth stone. Carved into it was the same infinity symbol.
— The old man says if you see the sign, you should remember what you felt. Not what you thought.
Albert took the stone and placed it in his pocket. Then said simply:
— I won't forget.
Dozens of kilometers away from the village where Albert's group had stopped, inside a mobile command outpost operated by a high-tier adventurers' guild, two specialists monitored a passive magic flux network activated 48 hours earlier.
On one of the observation panels, a steady line of energy pulsed faintly, without interruptions.
— No sign of instability, the first one reported.
— That's because it's not an anomaly. It's a decision. What we're tracking isn't something acting out of impulse. It's someone managing their own presence, said the second.
— You think they know we're watching?
— I think they're allowing it.
In the village, Albert sat on a simple wooden bench near the well. The child who had given him the stone with the infinity symbol was now with two other kids, drawing the same signs in the dirt.
Kaelya and Leon approached quietly.
— Do we have a reason to stay here? Leon asked.
Albert replied:
— One simple reason: if we leave now, they'll think we're hiding. If we stay, they'll have to accept that we have nothing to conceal.
Kaelya added:
— But that means we're ready to be seen from every angle.
Albert nodded:
— Exactly. No interference. No provocation. Just consistent presence. A world that forgot us will recognize us through consistency, not spectacle.
In a watchtower belonging to a secondary academy, an old professor adjusted a spectral detection device. The graph on the display showed a stable energy form—unchanging, but impossible to link to any known source.
— It's the same flux from three days ago. It hasn't grown. It hasn't faded. It behaves like… controlled breathing.
— Do we file a report?
— No. We tag it as: "Entity of undetermined level. Logical activity. Risk: unknown." Let the higher-ups decide if they want direct contact.
At the same time, in an ancient temple located in a neutral zone between human kingdoms and the elven forests, a group of magic monks received a shared vision during a ritual: a man with no name, looking out at a world that had forgotten him but could not ignore him.
After the vision ended, the abbot said:
— We will not seek him. But we will not disregard him either. When someone doesn't ask to be seen, that's when they're most visible.
In the village, the day moved on as usual. Children drew in the dirt. Vendors called out prices. People didn't know what they felt—only that this group of three couldn't be named, but also couldn't be ignored.
Albert closed his eyes for a few seconds. Not to meditate, but to imprint the place into memory.
— Even peace is a type of message, he said.
Leon looked around.
— And you think the world will understand?
— Maybe not all of it. But a part only needs to start wondering.
Kaelya, looking at the sky:
— When does the first official reaction come?
Albert opened his eyes and calmly answered:
— Not when they decide. But when they realize silence no longer works.