As soon as Alcard returned to the central headquarter, he wasted no time in dismissing his team, ensuring that each of them returned to their respective duties without asking unnecessary questions. They had endured a long journey and a grueling battle, but he could not afford for anyone to pry further into what they had found in the ruins. Without hesitation, he strode through the stone corridors, his boots echoing in the dimly lit hallways as he made his way to Oldman's quarters, carrying a secret that could shift the balance of power in Middle Earth.
Inside the modest yet heavily fortified war room, Oldman was already seated at his wooden desk, surrounded by scattered maps, reports, and strategic documents. His sharp eyes flicked up the moment Alcard entered, sensing immediately that something had changed. He had anticipated that this mission would uncover something significant, but he had not expected Alcard to return with such a severe expression.
"What did you find?" Oldman's voice carried an unspoken tension, laced with both curiosity and caution.
Without a word, Alcard reached down to the leather pouch fastened securely to his belt, undoing its straps with practiced ease. From within, he withdrew the object that had been burning a hole in his conscience since the moment he retrieved it—the octagonal green prism. Its surface gleamed with an unnatural radiance, the faint glow pulsating in slow, rhythmic waves, as if the artifact itself was alive. With deliberate care, he placed it atop the worn wooden desk.
Oldman's entire demeanor shifted. His body tensed, his breathing slowed, and his fingers curled slightly against the edges of the desk as his gaze locked onto the artifact. He slowly pushed his chair back and stood up, stepping closer as if drawn to the prism by an unseen force. The light from the oil lamps flickered across his weathered face, highlighting an expression of both awe and trepidation.
"This is..." Oldman whispered, barely audible, as he extended a cautious hand toward the artifact.
The moment his fingertips brushed against its smooth surface, his eyes widened, and he abruptly withdrew his hand, as if he had touched something scorching. His expression hardened, his mind racing with possibilities. There was something unnatural about this object—something ancient, something potent.
"This thing… it feels alive," Oldman murmured, his voice barely concealing the unease creeping into his thoughts.
Alcard remained composed, observing the way Oldman's face shifted from shock to contemplation. "We found it deep within the ruins," he explained, his voice even but laced with urgency. "It was sealed in a chamber, guarded by massive golems made of living wood and roots. Whatever this thing is, someone—or something—ensured it was hidden away, out of reach."
Oldman listened intently as Alcard detailed the events that had unfolded in the ruins, explaining how the artifact had been placed atop an altar of writhing roots, as if waiting for the right hands to claim it. He described how his attempt to destroy it had failed, how the energy backlash had nearly incapacitated him, and how the moment he touched it, the entire structure seemed to recognize his presence, unsealing itself.
"So this isn't just some relic of the past," Alcard stated grimly, his gaze never leaving Oldman's. "I don't know for certain if this is the legendary fragment, but one thing is clear—this is something far too dangerous to be left unguarded."
Oldman narrowed his eyes, his mind working rapidly to piece together everything he knew. "The legends speak of fragments—pieces of primordial power, remnants of something even the gods themselves feared," he admitted. "But if this truly is one of them, then how does it function? Why was it created? No records remain that can answer those questions."
A heavy silence settled over the room. The weight of the discovery pressed down on both men, each realizing that they were now entangled in something far beyond their control.
"If The Veil learns that we have this…" Oldman finally spoke, his voice grim, "they will never stop hunting us. And you know as well as I do, Alcard, that we do not have the strength to oppose them directly."
Alcard nodded, fully aware of the gravity of the situation. The Veil operated in the shadows, manipulating rulers, orchestrating wars, and bending history to their will. No kingdom in Middle Earth had ever stood against them and survived.
"So what's our next move?" Alcard asked, his tone sharp with tension.
Oldman exhaled slowly, as if weighing the cost of every possible action. He turned his gaze back to the prism, its soft glow reflecting in his dark eyes. "First, we must hide it," he decided. "No one can know it exists—no one but us. I will lock it away in the most secure place within The Wall."
Alcard agreed without hesitation. If there was any place in the world that could keep this object hidden from The Veil, it was the secret vault buried deep beneath the central headquarter—a location known only to Oldman himself.
"And the second step?" Alcard pressed.
Oldman crossed his arms over his chest, his expression turning even more solemn. "We need information," he admitted. "But the problem is, who can we trust? The knowledge of the fragments has been lost for centuries."
Alcard fell into momentary silence, contemplating his next words. Then, as if the answer had been waiting in the back of his mind all along, a name surfaced. "Reinhard," he said quietly. "If anyone understands what this fragment is, it's him."
Oldman's expression darkened, a mixture of skepticism and intrigue crossing his features. "Reinhard… If he truly is a Jotun, then you may be right. But finding him will not be easy."
For now, they both agreed—the fragment must remain a secret. Oldman carefully lifted the prism and carried it toward the hidden chamber below The Wall, a vault reinforced with layers of steel and arcane seals. It was a place no ordinary person could access, designed to hold the most dangerous artifacts and secrets of the world.
As the vault door shut with a final, echoing thud, sealing the prism away from prying eyes, Alcard left the war room feeling as though he had only just begun to uncover a truth far greater than he had imagined. The weight on his shoulders had not lessened; if anything, it had grown heavier.
Stepping out into the open air, he tilted his head upward, watching as dark clouds gathered over the fortress. The scent of impending rain filled the air, and a cold wind whispered through the stone corridors.
This was not the end of their troubles—this was merely the beginning of something far more dangerous. The Veil was still out there, searching for the very thing they had just locked away.
And if they found out who had it, no force in Middle Earth would be able to stop what came next.
For now, all Alcard could do was prepare. But deep down, he knew—time was not on their side.