Maru scoffed softly as he looked at Cord, his seething rage simmering beneath the surface. Yet, despite the storm inside, he knew he couldn't act against Cord. Struggling for words and unwilling to utter something he might later regret, he turned away, shoulders heavy, and trudged back to the cave, his spirit weighed down by frustration.
Cord shot glances at Maru from time to time, unwilling and unable to meet his eyes directly after the scolding he had endured earlier. Yet when he noticed Maru's dejected return to the camp, his heart stirred with sympathy for his friend. Though the change he observed seemed minor, and though Maru had made it clear he wanted no words spoken, Cord wrestled with his conscience. Against his better judgment, compelled by loyalty and concern, he finally broke the silence and said aloud, voice trembling with hesitation:
[It concerns Floki too.]
Maru turned around to face Cord and asked, his voice edged with suspicion and confusion:
[It concerns… Floki. How?]
Cord stepped closer, determined to explain, this time refraining from brandishing his swiftly healed leg as proof. Instead, while still mentioning the uncanny speed of his recovery, he emphasized with quiet urgency that for his leg to heal completely and function without weakness, it required at least one more day of rest, free from obstruction or strain. His words carried both caution and a plea for understanding.
Maru considered Cord's words for a moment, but the meaning behind them remained elusive. The swift healing of Cord's leg could be explained by many possibilities: perhaps the deep energy within his body had subconsciously accelerated the process, or maybe the long absence from battle had left him yearning for combat. The prospect of facing the very foe who had fractured his leg and left him immobilized for so long might have ignited a fierce motivation, one strong enough to block his mind from pain or stir his body into excitement, driving his recovery forward with unnatural speed.
However, there lingered another possibility Maru refused to entertain, a darker reason that might be tied to Floki's disappearance. Before the thought could fully surface, he forced it away, unwilling to confront the implications. Instead, he dismissed Cord's words as little more than foolish ranting, unworthy of serious consideration. Seeing Cord about to continue, Maru chose to rebuke him—a decision that seemed wiser in the moment—so he could retreat to the cave, rest, and gather his strength. Sleep, he hoped, would grant him clarity and the resolve to chart a way forward, free from the confusion gnawing at his mind.
But before Maru could rebuke him, Cord had already spoken, his words abrupt yet heavy with implication. A few sentences, if proven true, could alter everything about their situation. Cord declared:
[I think we missed a day or two without being aware of it. I know this sounds like speculation, but consider—who or what could make us forget the event that happened a day or a few days before, without us even being aware a day or days had passed? An individual with the power to erase memory, lull us into dreams, or implant false recollections. Someone who stood beside us, yet vanished when we awoke. That isn't coincidence; it's deliberate, and it changes everything.]
Maru, unwilling to accept what Cord was insinuating, turned sharply and said:
[Are you suggesting that individual is powerful enough to wipe our minds or implant memories into not one but two advanced soul beings—without our wards detecting it or shielding us from a mere mind attack by a high‑class soul being? I'm sorry, but I'm not buying that bullshit.]
His voice carried both defiance and frustration, a refusal to acknowledge such vulnerability, even as a flicker of unease lingered beneath his hardened words.
Cord was left without a reply to Maru's counter, and it seemed Maru had won the argument momentarily. Pressing his advantage, Maru continued, determined to drive his point home:
[Moreover, Floki's powers are tied to dreams, not mind control. While he could plant a dream in our minds for a few fleeting moments and make us believe whatever he wished, he could never erase knowledge of an entire day—or two—from advanced soul beings like us. Our wards would never fail against such a crude attack. Floki is not the perpetrator here; I fear he is the victim. And if we do not act swiftly to find him, he may not remain that way for much longer.]
His words carried urgency, conviction, and a rising sense of responsibility, as though the weight of their next decision pressed heavily upon his shoulders.
Cord noted the valid points Maru had made and was almost compelled to believe him. Yet his instincts whispered otherwise, urging him to cling to doubt. Torn between the aching suspicion that Floki had betrayed them and the fragile hope that Floki was merely a victim, Cord wrestled with his conscience. Driven by curiosity and the need for clarity, he finally spoke, his voice carrying both hesitation and conviction:
[I know, and it's true—Floki has no mind control abilities. At best, he could make someone believe something fleeting, a few seconds, perhaps a minute if he truly strained. That alone proves he is not the perpetrator. At the same time, there are no other beings here apart from us, that wretched ginormous squid, and Floki. We both have clear alibis, while Floki alone is missing from our group. Sure, the squid is a wild card, but I cannot accept that some brutish creature of the deep could manipulate our minds so precisely. Still, something doesn't add up, and I cannot ignore the possibility that we are overlooking a truth too dangerous to dismiss.]
Cord hesitated for a moment, his mind working relentlessly, trying to sift through the facts while convincing Maru of what he believed to be true. The cool air drifting from outside the cave brushed past them, flowing inward and washing over his skeletal frame. It cooled his ribs, slipped through the large gaps in his bones, and whispered through the hollow spaces where his eyes should have been.
Partly baptized by the wind, he released the trapped air from his mouth—not a breath, but a release of lingering currents caught in hidden recesses of his vast skeleton. Glancing at Maru, Cord steadied himself, his resolve hardening. This time he presented his theory, a fragile yet urgent idea he desperately hoped his friend would consider, one that might finally determine whether Floki was a victim or a betrayer, and perhaps illuminate the truth that had eluded them both.