CHAPTER 294: CHAPTER 294- TRAIL

A few days later, far from the smoldering ruins of the New Order’s citadel, Julian sat on a weathered wooden pier, a fishing rod held loosely in his hands. The sun was warm, the lake was calm, and the only sounds were the gentle lapping of water and the rustle of leaves.

Beside him, Fey lounged in a similar posture, her own line cast into the deep. She let out a soft, content sigh. "Quiet day," she remarked, her voice lazy and relaxed.

Julian didn’t turn his head, his gaze fixed on the water’s surface. "I didn’t take you for the fishing type, Fey."

A dry smirk touched her lips. "Been doing it since I was a kid. It’s... quiet. Lets your thoughts settle. No one demanding you build a death ray or a perpetual motion machine." She gave a slight shrug. "Guess that’s why my skill is ’Liquid,’ huh? Always felt a pull towards the flow of things, and water’s the best at just... going with the flow."

Julian considered this for a moment. "It’s a plausible theory. Skills often feel like an extension of one’s deepest desires or inherent nature."

Fey turned her head slightly, a glint of sharp humor in her eyes as she looked at his profile. "Is that so?" she drawled. "Well then, by that logic, your ’Domination’ skill means you’ve got one hell of a deep-seated desire to control people. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with your head?"

She said it not with fear or accusation, but with the blunt, irreverent curiosity of a colleague who had seen too much to be easily shocked.

Fey grunted, expertly playing the line as a silvery fish broke the surface, thrashing. "See? This is a much healthier relationship. I offer the bait, the fish chooses to take it. No ’domination’ required. Just mutual, hungry interest."

Julian watched her haul the fish onto the pier. "A simplistic analogy. Your bait is a manipulation of its hunger. You’re still leveraging a base desire to control the outcome."

"Ugh, you’re impossible," Fey groaned, deftly removing the hook. "You take all the fun out of everything. Can’t a girl just enjoy catching dinner without you turning it into a lecture on psychological warfare?"

She tossed the fish into a bucket. "My point is, it’s a choice. The fish made a dumb choice, and now it’s dinner. Your way, nobody gets a choice. That’s the difference."

"And in a world full of predators," Julian countered, his voice low, "ensuring your own survival often means removing the element of choice from your enemies. Sentimentality is a luxury we can’t always afford."

Fey paused, looking at the fish in the bucket, then back at Julian’s impassive face. A shadow of understanding crossed her features, cutting through her usual laziness.

"Yeah, well," she said, her voice quieter now. "Just remember that sometimes, the people on your side need to feel like they have a choice, too. Or one day, you might find yourself fishing alone." She picked up her rod and cast her line back into the water.

Julian’s response to Fey’s warning was a low, confident chuckle. "An unlikely scenario. I have far too many... companions who are deeply invested in my continued existence. Leaving seems counterintuitive to their desires."

Fey didn’t miss a beat, her gaze still fixed on her fishing line. "Companions, huh? Is that what we’re calling your harem of dangerously powerful women now?" she asked, her tone dripping with dry amusement. "Just remember, even the most loyal dog might bite if you pull its chain too hard. And we," she finally glanced at him, a sly smirk playing on her lips, "are a lot sharper than dogs."

Before Julian could formulate a retort, Emma’s voice cut through the serene atmosphere, loud and brimming with her characteristic excitement.

"JULIAN! FEY! Get over here, quick! You gotta see this!"

The urgency in her tone was unmistakable. Fey sighed, setting her rod down with a look of resigned annoyance. "So much for a quiet day."

The two of them abandoned their fishing gear and headed towards the source of the commotion.

The group gathered at the edge of their camp, where Emma was pointing excitedly at the ground. A trail of dark, splattered blood led from a small clearing directly into the dense, shadowy depths of the forest.

"Ugh, not the forest again," Veronica groaned, crossing her arms. "Haven’t we had enough of trampling through mud and getting bugs in our hair?"

Celestia, ever analytical, knelt to examine the blood. "It’s fresh. The pattern suggests a heavy, dragging wound. Are we interested in following this?"

A cold, intrigued glint appeared in Julian’s eyes. "It’s... interesting," he stated, his voice low. "This could be a lead. Perhaps a clue to the ’Origin’ entities." The mention of the mysterious, protoplasmic beings he had encountered in the military lab hung in the air.

"Absolutely not," Veronica declared. "I’m not chasing some bloody trail into the unknown for your vague ’interest’."

"I... I think I’d like to stay and rest, too," Clarissa added softly, placing a comforting arm around Dori, who nodded in vigorous agreement. "It’s been so hectic."

Julian’s gaze swept over them, quickly assessing. "Aya and Beatrix are occupied with researching the nullifier. Understood." His decision was swift. "Zoe, Fey. You’re with me. The rest of you, stay and secure the camp."

Celestia looked at the small team. "Are you sure that’s wise? Just the three of you?"

"It’s not a prolonged expedition," Julian dismissed, already turning towards the forest. "We’ll be back before nightfall."

Fey, who had been hoping to return to her fishing, opened her mouth to protest. "Now, wait a minute, I didn’t agree to—"

But Julian was already walking, his hand snapping out to grab her wrist with an unyielding grip. He began pulling her towards the tree line without a backward glance.

"Hey! Let go, you tyrant!" Fey complained, stumbling after him, her protests ignored.

The three of them disappeared into the forest.