ã€ŠAetherfel Tensei Vol. 1: Please Excuse This No-Good Princess!ã€‹


 Epithet

    ¡°The Lion¡¯s Humility is the first of the Holy Stances¡ªreserved solely for Paladins and Holy Knights. No exceptions. This stance embodies justice, a ritual to strip away all excess pride before a battle begins. Watch closely.

    Both hands on the grip, blade held fully vertical, with the edges turned to the sides. The pommel must remain parallel to your core¡ªno compromises. Observe your reflection in the blade. Notice how it distorts, yet your eyes remain unchanged. Fixate on them. Let them carry the weight of your determination. Regardless of the foe, whether mighty or meager, those eyes are your anchor.

    Relax your arms, but tense your shoulders. The burden of your kingdom rests on those pauldrons. Take two deliberate breaths: the first to steady your spirit, the second to summon resolve. Only then, when the moment demands it, will you transition to the second or third Holy Stance.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Now, a warning. Never¡ªunder any circumstances¡ªassume this stance with the blade facing you. The last fool who did so caught a surprise strike and ended up with their own blade buried in their face. That fool, well¡­ that fool was me.¡±

    I still can¡¯t believe this was the first form they drilled into us. You should always have your sword ready when in the face of your enemy!

    Authored by: Adrian Legend

    <hr>

    Dedicated to my wife, who isn''t nearly as foul mouthed as the princess.

    (I have to legally say this so I don''t get divorced!)

    <hr>

 Chapter 1: Stepping Forward

    The acrid stench of smoke and battle clung to my nostrils, sharp and unrelenting. Sweat was an old companion, its salty tang second nature by now as it bristled the air like the lesser aroma of a sea breeze. Blood, too, had long since lost its novelty¡ªwhether spilled during sparring with my students or shed by the battalion of Holy Knights under my command. The iron tang that joined the scent was less inviting, but not wholly unexpected from where I stood.

    But this smoke was different. Rising from the burning ramparts in the distance, it draped the battlefield like a funeral shroud, blurring the silhouettes of warriors caught in a fragile lull between bouts of carnage.

    Smoke. It wasn¡¯t always so grim. Once, I cherished the scent curling up from a campfire after a day¡¯s march or the satisfying crackle of wood succumbing to the flames on a soft summer evening. That aroma had always meant safety and camaraderie, a promise of rest earned after hours of grueling training or an expedition into the northeast valley. Familiar. Comforting. Unmistakable.

    This was not that smoke.

    This was acrid, vile, a mixture of overcooked meat and sulfur, a sickening cocktail that churned my stomach. It was the smoke of burning flesh¡ªcomrades and foes nearly reduced to ash in the same funeral pyre. A choking miasma that clung to the throat, it spoke of death, not rest. Certainly not the kind I¡¯d welcome.

    The sprawling scene before me was nothing short of a bloodbath. I leaned against the battered stone edge atop the castle¡¯s front gate, my fingers tightening over the weathered ledge. Old bandages covered hastily dressed wounds I hadn¡¯t yet found the time¡ªor strength¡ªto heal. As I peered out, the carnage beyond stretched into the horizon, each detail more grisly than the last.

    This battlefield¨C this freshly paved graveyard¡­ there were no words to fully capture its horrors.

    Beyond the gate lay The Queen¡¯s Path, a grand bridge that once symbolized unity and love. It connected the royal castle to the eastern district of the capital: the noble¡¯s enclave, which gradually tapered into the bustling merchant district. Decades ago, before the bridge¡¯s construction, a noble girl would sneak across the river¡¯s scattered stones to visit the castle. The River Mistura below whispered her secrets, but it couldn¡¯t keep them.

    Through a secluded entrance, she¡¯d slip inside to spend her nights with the young crowned prince. Together, they shared tales¡ªhers of the city¡¯s lively streets, his of the castle¡¯s somber halls. To him, she was a fairy from another world, spreading whimsy and joy. His love for her became legend, so fierce that he fought his own parents, the king and queen, to make her his bride. Their story lived on, etched into history as the bridge itself, a testament to their bond.

    But now¡­ it was nearly destroyed.

    Through the latest bout of battle, the bridge had been blown half apart, smoldering in its own wreckage and threatening to collapse into the River Mistura below. Once a marvel of engineering and a landmark of my travels, it was now torn asunder¡ªa masterpiece defaced by fire and death. Like a painting ripped in half, its edges were scorched, bearing the scars of agony and destruction.

    But it wasn¡¯t the bridge itself that held my attention. It was the bodies. Hundreds of them, scattered like grotesque decorations on the battlefield. Allies and foes alike lay lifeless, twisted into unnatural poses as though death had arranged them with an artistic cruelty. Some were sprawled on their backs, broken spears impaling their chests, shattered swords discarded at their sides. All joined the reaper¡¯s canvas.

    Others were worse off. Ripped into pieces like broken dolls, soldiers had their upper and lower halves separated in brutal testament to the strength of their enemy. Spines and sinew lay exposed, mocking the clean brutality of a blade. No, this wasn¡¯t the work of a sword. These soldiers weren¡¯t cleaved apart; they were ripped limb from limb, like toys ruined in the jealous hands of a child.

    The larger demons, the ones we called Ogers, hadn¡¯t even bothered with combat against some of them. To these monsters, the battle was no contest. They had simply grabbed their victims by the arms or legs and pulled until flesh and bone gave way. What remained of their handiwork now littered the ground, a grim reminder of the power we faced.

    The enemy¡¯s corpses were just as numerous, scattered among the carnage like grotesque splashes of red and black on a macabre display. The Ogers made up most of their fallen. Towering humanoid demons, they stood over two meters tall and nearly as wide, their bodies built of nothing but slabs of muscle encased in dark, crudely bolted iron armor. Sculpted flesh barely contained beneath their grotesque plating, they were beasts of war.

    If not for their savagery, I might have admired their strength, perhaps even found their forms handsome¡ªprovided they kept their heads under bags. Some wielded weapons¡ªspears, swords, and axes¡ªeach as crude and unrefined as their makers. Many of the blades were chipped or outright broken, a testament to the ferocity of the recent clash.

    Yet, for these brutes, precision and craftsmanship were meaningless. Where we humans prized masterfully forged weapons meant to endure countless battles, Ogers relied purely on raw, uninhibited power. Their tools didn¡¯t need to last; they only needed to kill. If a weapon broke before its wielder died, it mattered little. The Ogers would simply grab another¡ªbe it a comrade¡¯s spear, a dying soldier¡¯s sword, or even a shattered piece of debris¡ªand keep going.

    Sometimes, they didn¡¯t bother with weapons at all. Their bare hands were enough, as evidenced by the dismembered bodies scattered across the battlefield. The sheer savagery of their methods set my nerves on edge.

    A hundred Ogers had charged headlong into our defenses during the last wave. A hundred mindless brutes, devoid of strategy, their only thought to kill anything that wasn¡¯t one of their own. They didn¡¯t even pause to consider tactics, charging in with nothing but sheer force.

    Fools. Dangerous, brutal fools. And yet, for all their stupidity, they left devastation in their wake.

    I grimaced, the weight of realization pressing heavily on my chest. The civilians in the district beyond the bridge¡ªthe merchants, the peasants¡ªthey didn¡¯t have the luxury of escape like the nobles who fled to the castle at the first sign of trouble. For them, survival meant staying put, barricading themselves with whatever they could find, even as war surged around them.

    I didn¡¯t know what the Ogers did to the people they captured. Death was a certainty, but how it came was another matter entirely. Did they butcher them like livestock, turning humans into some grotesque delicacy? Or did they have baser, more vile intentions? The thought of what might happen to the women¡ªthe horror of it¡ªsent a sickening chill through me. No. I couldn¡¯t dwell on that now.

    I¡¯ll grieve for the dead and the broken later. For now, I had to fight for the living.

    I had routed enemy armies. I had stymied invasions. I was a god-blessed hero of our kingdom, adorned with accolades that each could write its own spin-off legend . This ground beneath me wasn¡¯t just another battlefield¡ªit was my stage. I didn¡¯t come here to stand idle like some brooding gargoyle, a silent observer to this waking ruin.

    I came here to fight. I came here to win.

    ¡°Lord Adrian,¡± a voice beside me called softly. ¡°The Holy Knights are positioned and awaiting your command.¡±

    I reached for the silver-adorned helmet resting near the ledge and fit it firmly over my head. My dark brown hair, disheveled from this gods-forsaken mess, was swept neatly into place beneath the snug weight of my warrior¡¯s crown. Cramped as it felt, the closeness brought an odd sense of comfort¡ªif only for the protection it offered against a stray arrow from a lurking sniper.

    I turned toward the speaker and found myself staring at a radiant suit of silver armor, polished to a mirror-like sheen that seemed to catch and amplify every glint of light. It bore intricate engravings of celestial patterns and symbols, the craftsmanship screaming reverence and duty. The young face peering out from beneath the helm carried a striking mixture of innocence and hardship¡ªyouth touched by the unforgiving hand of war, yet not entirely dimmed by it.

    A jagged tear gaped along the left side of his helmet, a stark souvenir from a recent encounter with an ax. The scar it left danced from his forehead to his cheek, an unkind reminder of how close he¡¯d come to losing his life. And yet his eyes¡ªdeep brown and brimming with reckless excitement¡ªbelied any fear. This fool had nearly lost his head and was already itching for more.

    I suppressed a sigh, placing my hand over his face and channeling a surge of mana. The Holy Knight flinched slightly as the magic flowed, his expression shifting to mild irritation as the open wound sealed into a clean scar.

    ¡°Uh, sir? We¡¯re ready to fight,¡± he said, undeterred.

    ¡°Like hell you are,¡± I replied, my voice curt. ¡°You show up looking like a piece of sliced ham and expect me to believe my battalion is ready for war? Stand still.¡±

    My hand might have rested on his face with the gentleness of a father¡¯s touch, but I was dangerously close to swinging my gauntlet and giving him a proper smack. Holy Knights were meant to be the squires of Paladins, armed with divine power to protect, heal, and fight. That included healing themselves. Yet here was this moron, standing before me like a stubborn brute too dense to use the gifts bestowed upon him. I grumbled inwardly as the young knight, undeterred by my own aggravation, stood with his hands on his hips, his stance dripping with insubordination.

    The knight and I fell into silence as I finished healing him, though his stance¡ªa wide-legged posture with hands firmly on his hips¡ªbothered me to no end. Stubborn as ever, he stood there like a petulant teenager being scolded by his father. I sighed, exasperated.

    This one was the runt of the group, the class clown. I had poured countless hours into training him, using myself as an example, yet he never quite absorbed the lessons. Still, there was potential buried under that cocky grin and impulsive nature.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying my best, sir,¡± he said at last, breaking the silence. ¡°You know I¡¯m at my best when I¡¯ve got my sword in my hands.¡±

    ¡°I know, boy. I know,¡± I replied, my tone softening. ¡°But you still need to take care of yourself. We¡¯re the shining light of His Majesty and Her Highness. When we step forward¡ª¡±

    ¡°We do so to leave a path for others to follow. I get it,¡± he interrupted, a bit too eagerly. ¡°I¡¯ve got all the scriptures memorized, sir. I¡¯ll say the prayer before I start lopping off demon heads.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Which one?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°The rite of passage or the rite of justice?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t an idle question. The demons that spilled forth from the rift to the far North were bloodthirsty invaders, yes, but they weren¡¯t mindless. They spoke in guttural tones, roared in fury during battle, and even cried out in pain as they fell. Could they find penance in death? The thought lingered as I waited for his answer.

    He pursed his lips, then said with a gleam of determination in his eyes, ¡°I¡¯ll recite the rite of protection. My comrades and I are fighting to protect the castle and the kingdom. It¡¯s the perfect oath for this battle.¡±

    ¡°Aye, that¡¯s a fine choice,¡± I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips. ¡°Go on, then. Gather with the others and tell them to shake off the dust. We¡¯ve a victory to claim.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± he said, his voice bursting with enthusiasm. The itch for battle was clear in his steps as he turned toward the stairs leading to the gate below. But just as he reached the first step, he paused, glancing back at me with aching curiosity.

    ¡°Lord Adrian¡­ what rite will you swear to for this fight?¡±

    I suppressed a sigh, his question catching me off guard. ¡°The rite of patience, if you keep wasting my time. Now go!¡± I barked, pointing sharply toward the gathering troops.

    He scowled but said nothing, rushing off with the same eagerness he¡¯d shown before. Once he was out of earshot, I let out a deep breath, steadying myself. In truth, I would be taking the rite of protection for this battle. It was the only vow that felt right.

    Adjusting my ocean-blue scarf¡ªthe small cape that draped over my armor¡¯s bindings¡ªI turned toward my waiting knights. My steps were heavy, not from the weight of my armor but from the prayer I carried in my heart.

    ¡°Your Majesty, Princess,¡± I whispered under my breath, ¡°grant my wish. Make it out of this night alive. Make it safe.¡±

    I am Adrian Legend. Perhaps you¡¯ve heard my name before, though if you¡¯re reading this tale, then maybe not. I¡¯m 28 years old¡ªthough I stopped keeping track the day I could drink the temple¡¯s wine without reprimand. For over a decade, I¡¯ve commanded the Holy Knights, succeeding my master, who passed on from old age.

    My rise to leadership was cemented the day I drew the legendary greatsword, Chandrabolg. A colossal weapon forged of mithril and imbued with sacred magic, its two-meter blade seemed almost impossible to wield. When it rested in the pedestal at the northern shrine¡ªa place dedicated to the balance of nature¡ªmost men needed to stand on a chair just to grip its hilt.

    But I held it. Through years of training and unshakable resolve, I proved myself worthy. The blade, the title, the responsibility¡ªthey all became mine. Becoming something beyond a Master-Class Paladin, the highest rank among my order, I earned the title of Hero-Class from His Majesty.

    Now, Chandrabolg and I are the kingdom¡¯s last line of defense. My Holy Knights and I are the final hope to reclaim the capital from the abyssal tide that threatens to consume it.

    ¡°Fall in line! Lord Adrian approaches to address us!¡± a Holy Knight¡¯s voice rang out as my heavy boots echoed on the wooden stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump. The rhythmic clink of chains securing my armor accompanied each step, like the steady percussion of a war march.

    As I reached the courtyard, the knights assembled in perfect formation, their movements crisp and disciplined. I took my place at the center, my gaze sweeping over them.

    Some were seasoned Paladins, their hands steady as they gripped maces or holy relics. Others were younger¡ªnovice knights wielding spears and swords honed through years of training. Among them were those already bloodied from battle, their armor bearing the scars of combat. A limp here, a scar there¡ªtestaments to the trials they¡¯d faced.

    But they were still standing. They were still alive.

    ¡°I will protect them,¡± I vowed silently. These knights were more than soldiers; they were my brothers and sisters in arms. We would fight as one. We would claim victory together.

    Beyond our formation, I could see hundreds of castle knights and guards standing at attention from the castle¡¯s rafters. Their posture was tense, their expressions far from confident. They didn¡¯t look to me with respect but with desperation, as though staring at death itself. If we fell, they would be next to face the butcher¡¯s block. I couldn¡¯t blame them for wanting to run, their hearts wavering in the shadow of what was to come.

    Farther still, my eyes caught movement on one of the castle¡¯s inner balconies. Figures stood shrouded in smoke and distance¡ªspectators, no doubt. Perhaps nobles eager to witness history in the making, or even the king and queen themselves. It was impossible to say, but their presence, however faint, added weight to the moment.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know their numbers,¡± I began, turning to face the towering iron-wrought gate ahead, the bridge stretching beyond it. My voice cut through the tension like a blade. ¡°It simply means we¡¯ll struggle to count how many we¡¯ve defeated when we win.¡±

    A cheer erupted from the Holy Knights, crisp and unified, their faith unwavering. The castle guards joined in hesitantly, their muffled voices an afterthought against the certainty of my knights.

    ¡°I caught a good look at their commander,¡± I began, letting my tone dip into mock disdain. ¡°Big brute of a thing. Ugly as sin. I¡¯m starting to think they rank up based on how hard they are to look at.¡±

    A few novice knights chuckled nervously, the strain of battle easing for just a moment.

    ¡°But once my sword finds his knees and then his neck, he won¡¯t be so big anymore,¡± I continued, smirking. ¡°In fact, I think his skull will make a fine addition to the tapestry at my favorite tavern.¡±

    ¡°Aye, and we¡¯ll drink from it, too!¡± an older Paladin called out, his gravelly voice laced with humor.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be on your back moaning from a hangover before you finish the first sip, you old fool!¡± another knight shot back, earning a round of laughs.

    ¡°When we finish this fight and drive them out,¡± I interrupted, raising my voice to reclaim their focus, ¡°I¡¯ll be pulling out the wine from the deepest cellar to toast our victory.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t mean the Sacred Louvinere, Lord Adrian?¡± Samuelle, one of the senior knights, asked in surprise. ¡°It hasn¡¯t been touched since you drew Chandrabolg!¡±

    ¡°The very same,¡± I confirmed with a grin. ¡°Just as we drank when I drew the sword, we¡¯ll drink when I bury it between the eyes of that hideous bastard.¡±

    My words echoed across the courtyard, drawing a thunderous roar of approval from the Holy Knights. Even the castle guards, emboldened by the declaration, raised their weapons in solidarity.

    ¡°We¡¯ll make sure they rue the day they dared set foot in our kingdom!¡± a female Holy Knight declared, drawing her sword with a flourish, her stance resolute and fierce.

    ¡°We¡¯ll show them the full weight of justice when we send them flying off that bridge!¡± another knight added, raising his shield as if to punctuate his point.

    ¡°Gyahaha, who¡¯s going to keep count? I want to know how many I take down!¡± a grizzled knight bellowed, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder.

    The banter rolled on, their voices rising with anticipation and determination. Their shouts and cheers reverberated off my armor, filling the air with a palpable energy that seeped into my very bones.

    Yet, even as their spirits lifted, a cold truth lingered in my mind. Most of them would likely die here, their lives sacrificed in the name of honor and kingdom.

    As true as it felt, though, I had to make sure that didn¡¯t happen. I had to be strong enough to change our fate.

    Gripping Chandrabolg tightly, I raised the blade high, its gleaming hilt resting against my chest. The sudden gesture silenced them, their chatter fading as if snuffed out by the weight of the moment. They knew this pose. The Paladins mirrored it, their hands steady as they prepared their oaths.

    The faint clink of armor and leather broke the stillness as each knight bowed their heads in solemn prayer. Tradition dictated that we gaze into our swords¡¯ reflections, drawing resolve from the warped images staring back at us. But I never followed that custom.

    I didn¡¯t need to, or perhaps I couldn¡¯t. Instead, I envisioned the battle ahead¡ªthe chaos, the bloodshed, the unrelenting will it would take to emerge victorious.

    Closing my eyes, I channeled mana through my body, feeling its surge as it flowed into Chandrabolg. The greatsword glowed with an otherworldly light, its aura spreading outward like a ripple across a still pond. Scratches healed. Bruises faded. The fears etched into my knights¡¯ faces softened, replaced by quiet resolve.

    The murmurs of prayer grew steadily, like a swelling tide, but the time for quiet reflection had passed. Drawing every ounce of strength into my voice, I bellowed, ¡°Open the gates, and witness our triumph, my King and Queen! My Princess!¡±

    Lowering Chandrabolg to my core, my grip firm and unwavering, I braced myself as the massive iron gate groaned to life. Its gears churned and creaked, a sound that felt both ancient and unrelenting, as the barrier began to rise. My heart pounded in time with its ascent, the weight of destiny pressing heavy on my chest.

    As the gate reached its peak, I stepped forward, the haze of smoke and the stench of blood inviting me to its deathly dance floor. Behind me, the synchronized echo of my comrades¡¯ boots rang out¡ªa resounding war drum, heralding our arrival.

    We crossed onto the bridge, each step deliberate, every movement steeped in purpose. The iron gate groaned shut behind us, slamming with finality. There would be no retreat, no surrender. It would not rise again¡ªnot for cowards, and certainly not for defeat.

    Our march continued, slow but resolute. The Paladins moved ahead, clearing paths through the rubble, their sharp eyes scanning for traps or hidden enemies. Behind them, the Holy Knights followed, their discipline unwavering as they stepped into the void of smoke and ruin, poised for battle on a moment¡¯s notice.

    And then we heard it. The invitation into the gaping maw of hell itself.

    The sound began as a faint tremor beneath our feet, subtle enough that only the loose stone pebbles at our boots noticed it first. But the vibration grew, resonating through the earth like the pained groan of the world itself.

    Then came the pitch, low and guttural, rising steadily until it roared like an enraged deity, whose single command was to destroy. It was a declaration of devastation that could travel for miles, and it pierced through the thick haze of smoke that cloaked the other side of the bridge.

    A horn. A massive one, its cry a deafening herald of death. As the smoke began to thin, we saw it¡ªthe monstrous instrument, some three meters long. Its body, crafted from rotted oak, was reinforced with spiked iron bands and adorned with trophies of human skulls. The grotesque relic hung heavy in the hands of its wielder, who stood towering at the other end of the bridge.

    The horn¡¯s bellow lingered for a moment before tapering off, its echoes haunting the air like the dying wail of a dragon. And then, as if emerging from the echoes themselves, the commander stepped into view.

    He was colossal, nearly ten meters tall, encased head to toe in golden armor that gleamed with an unsettling light. His helmet, brutal and imposing, bore massive tusks jutting from the sides of its mouth guard. From beneath the helm flowed a mane of gray fur, cascading down his broad shoulders like a lion¡¯s crown, adding to his savage majesty.

    The creature¡¯s hands¡ªand feet, if they could even be called that¡ªwere more akin to great paws,  with their jagged claws protruding from them gouging deep into the stone beneath them with each subtle shift. In its free paw, it gripped a club of unimaginable size, the weapon¡¯s bulk rivaling that of a castle turret. Even at rest, the club seemed to radiate menace, its surface scarred and dented from battles past. One swing of that monstrosity could obliterate the bridge, the front gate, or even the castle entrance.

    I grimaced, unwilling to linger on the thought of what it would mean if that weapon made contact with me¡ªor anyone, for that matter.

    But as the smoke continued to clear, my attention shifted. The towering commander was a terrifying sight, yes, but he was merely the figurehead of something far more foreboding.

    Beyond him stretched a sea of demons and monsters, their ranks an endless tide. The entire opposing wall was packed with them, writhing and shifting like the gears of some nightmarish machine. Thousands upon thousands flooded the region ahead, their movements precise and coordinated, their collective menace suffocating.

    Archers and artillery nested in the rafters, their dark forms clinging to the shadows like spiders in a web. Above them, winged creatures circled, their twisted silhouettes stark against the smoke-filled sky.

    A dozen or so beasts flanked the commander¡ªdogs? Wolves? No, something worse. I squinted through the haze, my stomach sinking as I drank their details in. They had two heads, each more hideous than the other, their matted fur hanging in filthy clumps. These mangy creatures were nearly the size of the brown bears I¡¯d seen in the forests to the north, but their presence was far more sinister.

    One of them could pose a serious challenge to even my most seasoned Paladins. A dozen? They would tear through our ranks like paper unless we coordinated perfectly.

    They stood unnervingly still, leaning over the edge of the far gate. Their mouths hung open, slack-jawed, revealing rows of crooked, yellowed teeth dripping with black ichor. The viscous fluid sizzled as it hit the stone beneath them, leaving pockmarks in the surface. Their raspy breaths filled the air with a guttural, choking rhythm, and their eyes¡ªtwo pairs on each head¡ªscanned the battlefield with ravenous intent.

    These beasts weren¡¯t just waiting. They were hungry. They were preparing for a hunt, and they looked certainly ready to dig in.

    Were we ready?

    I glanced at my compatriots, their reactions a silent reflection of their thoughts. Some stood with mouths agape, their eyes darting nervously across the sea of enemies. Others clenched their jaws, brows furrowed as they calculated the impossible odds. A few, mostly the veterans, bore a different expression¡ªa quiet, almost serene acceptance that this might well be their final stand.

    A wry smile tugged at my lips as I pieced it together. They were cycling through the stages of accepting death. Denial lingered in some, anger burned in others, but acceptance had already settled in the eyes of the seasoned fighters. What struck me most, though, was the absence of bargaining. None of them faltered, none of them dared to flee. Not with so much at stake.

    I half expected one among us to rip off their armor and leap into the river below, seeking escape and another chance at life. But no one did. Perhaps I was the only fool to entertain such a thought.

    Then again, I wasn¡¯t the only fool here.

    We were all fools, every last one of us. Fools ready to fight. And that was precisely what made us dangerous. The odds were staggering¡ªtwo hundred demons and monsters for every knight in our ranks. Insurmountable, by any rational measure.

    But if we triumphed here, our legend would echo through history, enduring long after our bones had turned to dust.

    ¡°We will be the ones to decide this war,¡± I said, my voice firm and unyielding.

    ¡°Aye, as long as we¡¯re not the ones stuck cleaning up the mess afterward,¡± Samuelle muttered, his graying beard twitching as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. His eyes lingered on the massive hounds by the demon commander¡¯s side. ¡°Those mutts are trouble. Barricades might slow the Ogers, but those beasts will leap right over them¡ªand over us too, I reckon.¡±

    ¡°If they come close, the polearm knights will gut them midair,¡± Clara, one of the Holy Knights, interjected. She jabbed her elbow into the side of her halberd-wielding comrade with a sly grin. ¡°We¡¯ll toss them over the ledge and let the river sort them out. Bet the fish will get their fill once the blood spills. And the crocs? They¡¯ll smell it from the delta and come crawling for seconds.¡±

    ¡°Assuming the damn things don¡¯t skewer themselves on the rocks below first,¡± another knight quipped, his tone as dry as his patience. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t mind seeing them end up like shish kebabs, honestly.¡± He let out a low scoff, clearly more eager to get this fight over with than to trade banter. Yet, like the rest of us, he was ready.

    They were all ready.

    ¡°Alright, Holy Knights,¡± I called, stepping forward, ¡°we¡¯re moving in Spearhead Formation on me. Polearms to the front. Paladins directly behind. I want shield bearers on each flank and guarding the rear.¡± My gaze shifted to the few Paladins clutching Holy Scriptures, their faces calm but alert. ¡°Casters, form the center as planned. Be prepared to cure serious wounds and raise divine barriers to intercept the heavy blows. When I call for the divine pillars, I want you ready to strike with everything you¡¯ve got.¡±

    The casters nodded in unison, their focus sharp as the knights began shuffling into position.

    Joseph scowled as he moved into position, his expression as worn and rugged as the decades of battles etched into his face. A Master-Class Paladin, Joseph stood at the pinnacle of what most Holy Knights could achieve. Starting at Novice-Class, progressing through Adept-Class, and finally reaching Elite-Class, many Holy Knights lived and died without ever climbing higher. Those who attuned to a Holy Relic were elevated to the rank of Paladin, entering the realms of Saint-Class, Veteran-Class, and, rarely, Master-Class.

    Joseph had achieved that rank years before I was even born. A seasoned warrior and unwavering leader, he embodied the ideals I had once strived toward as a fresh-faced Veteran-Class knight. Drawing Chandrabolg had secured my rise beyond the standard hierarchy. As a Hero-Class Paladin, the highest rank in our kingdom, I was the eighth Hero of my order¡ªthe only one alive today.

    The Hero-Class was singular, granted only to the chosen bearer of a legendary artifact. Chandrabolg, the greatsword of the first Paladin, was such an artifact. The First Hero was said to have tamed the elemental titans that roamed this valley during an era of chaos and strife. Together with other great warriors, they carved out a haven in this hostile land, building the foundation of our kingdom.

    The Hero¡¯s name had been forgotten, but their blade remained¡ªa testament to their legacy. Chandrabolg had chosen me, and now it was my responsibility to wield its power to protect what they had built.

    I raised the sword, its tip pointing directly at the demon commander, who loomed beyond the gate. His gaze locked onto mine, a burning appraisal behind his snarling visage.

    I practically shriveled as his glare landed onto me, but after my invoking display, I had naturally incurred his wrathful leer. Of course he¡¯s going to look at me. Dressed as I was, with a blade of legend in my hands, I wasn¡¯t exactly camouflaged. But that was the point. If I could hold his attention, my knights would have the chance to cut through the horde. I might die as easily as any other man in this battle, but I had the tools¡ªand the resolve¡ªto ensure that didn¡¯t happen.

    The Lion-Oger commander¡¯s voice boomed across the bridge, his massive paw lifting to point at me directly. ¡°YOU. YOU ARE HERO, YES?¡±

    His guttural words rumbled like thunder, each syllable laced with menace. A bead of sweat ran down my face as I steadied my grip on Chandrabolg.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m the hero,¡± I shouted back, my voice firm. ¡°Hero-Class Paladin of the Holy Knights, eighth Hero of my Order. I am Adrian Legend, your opponent in this decisive battle. Prepare to rot in the hell hole you crawled from, foul demon!¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure my words carried over the din of the battlefield, but the commander seemed to understand the gist. His mouth twisted into a toothy grin, and he scratched the side of his helmet with a claw.

    ¡°GOOD, GOOD. HERO, MEET MAKER.¡±

    His words were broken but clear. His intent was not to threaten but to declare.

    For a moment, I was amused. A moron, I thought. I loved fighting giant morons. They made for great spectacles with minimal risk.

    But then his free paw shot skyward, and I realized I had misunderstood his words.

    I had assumed he was referring to sending me to meet my maker, to face the gods I served.

    Instead, he was calling on his own.

    The clouds above parted, and the heavens themselves unveiled a tempestuous tapestry of disorder.

    A floating castle descended, suspended on a colossal chunk of earth and twisted metal. The structure was more cathedral than fortress, its black marble walls riddled with bizarre, curved architecture. Stained red windows climbed hundreds of meters, glowing like bloodstained eyes. Obelisks jutted outward at random angles, their pointed ends crooked and uneven. In its entirety, it looked like a volcanic eruption frozen mid-apocalypse and sculpted into a massive monument of its sickly beauty.

    Golden bells hung in hollowed-out towers, their chimes discordant and unnatural. The sound reverberated in reverse, an eerie echo that defied the natural flow of time.

    As if the sight wasn¡¯t horrifying enough, gray, ragged wings¡ªtattered like ancient burial shrouds¡ªlabored to support the structure¡¯s descent. Each grotesque flap sent tremors through the rotting membranes, the sound a sickening mix of wet parchment tearing and brittle bones snapping. The decayed wings strained under the weight, shedding fragments of withered flesh and sinew that spiraled downward like morbid confetti, marking the sky with their ghastly defiance of gravity.

    And then I saw them: tentacles, grotesque and pulsating, writhing through the air with a sickening sentience, like serpents fresh from the depths of some primordial nightmare. They slithered downward with a grotesque purpose, their glistening surfaces coated in a viscous, oily sheen that reflected the dim light like molten obsidian. Each one was as thick as a house, their undulating movements disgustingly fluid yet unnervingly powerful, leaving me nauseous with every convulsion as they anchored the cathedral¡¯s weight to the earth below.

    ¡°Glory be,¡± a knight murmured, his voice trembling. ¡°We¡¯re not just facing the invasion. We¡¯re stopping them from paving a fresh layer of hell!¡±

    The commander¡¯s gaze returned to me, his voice cutting through the growing fear. ¡°HERO. HUMANS. SUBMIT, AND DIE.¡±

    His words weren¡¯t a threat. They were an order, one that reverberated through our very bones.

    I whispered my answer in prayer.

    ¡°Fallen faithful to the kingdom, I beseech you. Let your soul flourish in justice and carry your will to battle once more. Your heart is weary, and the travels to the great beyond will be difficult, but in the precious time of afterlife awaiting, I grant you a chance to carry your sacred duties to fruition. SACRED GUARDIANS!¡±

    Mana surged through me, pooling into Chandrabolg. Brilliant hues erupted from the blade, scattering rays of light that swept across the battlefield. The bodies of fallen knights stirred, their spirits rising in radiant gold.

    Apparitions of those who had given their lives moments before now stood beside us, bolstering our numbers. They were not as strong as they were in life, but their presence was enough to reignite the courage that had begun to falter.

    The Holy Knights swallowed their fear, their chins lowering in determination. Paladins took deep breaths, assuming their fighting stances. We were ready.

    ¡°CHAAAARGE!¡±

    The word tore from my lungs, and with it, the dam broke. We surged forward as one, Holy Knights and Sacred Guardians alike, meeting the abyssal tide head-on.

 Chapter 2: Fel and Fallen

    The demon commander¡¯s roar clashed with my own, his colossal club raised high, poised to obliterate our ragtag band of divine warriors. One swing from that weapon could have erased us from the battlefield in an instant. He could have leapt forward, crushed our defenses, and turned the tide of battle with terrifying ease.

    But he didn¡¯t.

    I¡¯d seen these demons at work before, and one thing was painfully obvious: they were lazy bastards. Over the past weeks of fighting their elites, I¡¯d learned that they rarely exert themselves unless provoked¡ªor to deliver the final, devastating blow.

    This commander, clearly the leader of the horde, was no exception. He radiated an aura of malice, his oppressive presence like a miasma of death. Yet, instead of charging us, he stood there, picking his nose with an air of utter disinterest, as if we weren¡¯t even nearly worth the effort as a rogue booger.

    Perhaps he saw us as nothing more than insects to crush beneath his feet. Or perhaps, as absurd as it seemed, he was simply bored with this invasion.

    The ogers, at least, were eager for blood. Their snarls and guttural growls filled the air as they surged forward, brutish bodies poised for a melee clash.

    But before they could reach us, a ripple of green and black shimmered across the enemy¡¯s ranks. The archers perched along their wall¡ªdubbed ¡°bogers¡± in our less-than-respectful banter¡ªmade their move. Hundreds of arrows arced into the sky, their jagged tips glinting like cruel stars before blotting out the sun.

    The volley was hectic, fired with little regard for aim or target. Arrows rained indiscriminately, some striking their own advancing forces, others missing the bridge entirely and plunging into the river below.

    Then came the catapults, their payloads launched high into the air. The burning debris trailed green and blue flames, foul and otherworldly. Felfire, I thought grimly. The blazing projectiles lit the sky like comets hurled from the abyss, adding to the terrifying display of carnage to fall upon us.

    ¡°Shields! Shields overhead, NOW!¡± Samuelle bellowed, his voice cutting through the din. He lowered his mace, raising a rosary high as his command echoed through the ranks.

    The air crackled with magic as shimmering shapes of hexagons and pentagons materialized around the knights. These barriers, glowing with divine energy, fortified our defenses against the incoming storm.

    Tower shields rose in unison, overlapping to protect the gaps between them. Even the smaller bucklers found their place, creating an unbroken line of defense. The Sacred Guardians hovered among us, their ethereal forms crossing their arms as they braced for impact.

    Seconds stretched into eternity as the torrent descended. Iron and wooden spikes rained down in a relentless barrage, striking with the force of a thousand anvils. It felt as though the sky itself was collapsing upon us.

    Ogers began collapsing in heaps, unspared by the mayhem of their own assault. As they charged, blissfully unaware of their own archers¡¯ haphazard betrayals, the cries of their confusion gave way as they turned from invaders to meat filled sandbags.

    The impacts rang out like a symphony of destruction¡ªiron biting into stone, wood, and flesh. Most arrows glanced harmlessly off our barriers, their momentum spent as they slid to the ground. Others struck shields with a resonant thunk or pinged against the armor of those unlucky enough to be in their path.

    One knight wasn¡¯t so fortunate. An arrow slipped through a gap in our defenses, embedding itself between his shoulder and neck. He crumpled to his knees as his barrier dissolved, the Sacred Guardians immediately stepping in to shield him.

    Before panic could set in, a nearby Paladin raised his voice in prayer, a healing spell already forming on his lips. Holy light enveloped the wounded knight, and the arrow fell away as the flesh knit itself back together.

    For an ordinary army, such an assault would have been devastating. But we were no ordinary soldiers. We were warriors of the divine, blessed by powers the demons could never comprehend.

    The barrage ended as abruptly as it began, the last arrows clattering uselessly to the ground. The shimmering shields dissolved, leaving only faint traces of magic in their wake.

    I scanned the battlefield, taking stock. Some of the Sacred Guardians had been struck in their cores, their forms dimming or partially dissolving. Despite their losses, the spirits held firm. Other than the one knight already healed, we remained unscathed.

    But the respite was fleeting.

    The first chunk of felfire came crashing in, like stone chips from the devil¡¯s lair. These weren¡¯t projectiles we could block¡ªthey were boulders, massive and unforgiving.

    ¡°Scatter!¡± I roared, leaping aside as the first rock slammed into the bridge. It struck with a deafening crash, crumbling the stone beneath it and sending chunks of debris hurtling into the river below. Steam hissed as the water consumed the fiery fragments, geysers of boiling mist erupting into the air.

    More felfire followed, crashing indiscriminately. Some overshot the bridge wholesale, slamming into the castle walls and leaving blackened scorch marks that refused to fade. One particularly massive projectile struck the leg of a statue guarding the castle gates. The proud, regal figure shattered, its pieces cascading into the river like a fallen titan.

    ¡°There¡¯s no time to waste¡ªcasters, return fire!¡± I bellowed, my voice cutting through the roar of battle.

    As if the castle itself had heard my command, reinforcements sprang to life on the walls behind us to respond in kind. Royal archers took their positions, their bows arcing toward the sky, while trebuchets creaked into action with practiced precision. The garrison had arrived at last, answering the kingdom¡¯s desperate call.

    A chorus of shouts echoed across the battlements as orders were barked, and the air thickened with the sound of release. Arrows streaked across the sky in coordinated waves, a stark contrast to the chaos of the enemy¡¯s volley. Trebuchets launched payloads of heavy stone and fire, their trajectories calculated to strike where the enemy was most vulnerable.

    The effect was immediate and devastating. Ogers screeched as arrows struck home, some tumbling off the bridge with ragdoll-like gracelessness. A direct hit from one of our trebuchets obliterated a group of enemy archers, their screams lost in the deafening explosion.

    Even the demon commander wasn¡¯t spared a close call. A well-aimed shot streaked toward him, but with a lazy lean to the side, he let it sail past, crashing into the reserve forces behind him. His indifference was infuriating, his smug composure a reminder of the challenge still ahead.

    The air shimmered as my sacred casters unleashed their incantations, their voices weaving holy power into destructive force. Divine pillars erupted from the ground like spears of radiant light, cutting through the battlefield with unrelenting precision.

    The Saint-Class Paladins, though fewer in number, channeled their energy into focused attacks. Each pillar they summoned punched clean through the hulking ogers, leaving gaping wounds in their wake. Meanwhile, the Master-Class Paladins unleashed a veritable storm of divine strikes, their sheer number of consecutive pillars reducing entire sections of the enemy¡¯s ranks to ruin.

    One particularly devastating spell struck a tower crowded with bogers. The structure groaned before collapsing in a cacophony of stone and splintered wood, obliterating part of the wall as it fell. The cascade of debris crushed dozens of demons below, their screams swallowed by the thunderous impact.

    The winged creatures scattered in panic, darting through the sky to avoid the devastation. Their messy retreat left a temporary lull in the aerial assault, giving us a much-needed reprieve.

    A smirk tugged at my lips as I saw the royal forces unleash their fury, every bit as hellbent on revenge as I was.

    Taking their determination as my cue, I sprang forward, covering meters with each powerful leap.

    The remaining ogers, still advancing, didn¡¯t notice my approach until it was too late. I landed among them with a thunderous crash, my blade already in motion. Chandrabolg carved through their ranks in a single devastating arc, severing limbs and spilling blood in a violent spray.

    A platoon of demons now surrounded me, their snarling faces lit with grim spite. Perfect. I had cut off a sizable chunk of their army behind me, leaving them vulnerable to my Paladins and Holy Knights. This was my role: the distraction.

    With my aura shielding me, their weapons barely scratched my armor, but their relentless numbers would test my stamina. No matter. I shifted into a new stance, my blade sweeping in wide arcs. Heads, limbs, and weapons fell like wheat before a scythe. A murderous windmill, I tore through them with each breath I could muster.

    As long as I could breathe, I would fight.

    The battle settled into a grim rhythm¡ªarrows raining down, shields rising to meet them, and our forces surging forward in relentless assault.

    For twenty brutal minutes, I carved a path through the enemy ranks. My knights and spirits followed in my wake, finishing what I left behind. The bridge became a slaughterhouse, littered with the bodies of fallen foes and comrades alike.

    Not all injuries could be healed in time. Some knights fell to catapult fire or were hurled screaming over the edge into the river below. Still, we pressed on, cutting down the ogers like guards breaking up a riot in a rowdy tavern.

    I had to give the ogers some credit¡ªthey were crafty when the situation demanded it. Once they realized my blade could slice through iron and flesh with equal ease, they shifted tactics.

    Instead of charging head-on, they kept their distance, hurling rocks and discarded weapons in an attempt to trip me up.

    It wasn¡¯t the honorable combat I had hoped for, and I stumbled more than once, forced to swing low as I regained my footing. Their strategy slowed my advance, forcing me to divide my focus. My eyes darted constantly, wary of an attack from a blind spot that might send me tumbling off the bridge.

    The river might not kill me, but my armor is heavy enough that I don¡¯t doubt drowning was a possibility, and the idea of trying to clamber by bulky ass back up in time to continue the battle was damn near laughable. I could run and swing for hours, but if anyone thought I was going to climb a pillar of rock sopping wet, hero or no, the tales of bards will be scornful indeed.

    I steadied myself, preparing to face the next wave, my focus fixed on the ogers advancing around me.

    And that¡¯s when I made a critical mistake.

    I had accounted for the ogers at my front and sides, even those farther off. But I had failed to account for the sky.

    A shadow swept over me, and before I could react, claws sank into my pauldrons. My feet left the ground as I was yanked skyward, the wind rushing past my ears as the creature attempted to ascend.

    I craned my neck to glimpse my attacker and froze. Wings. Talons. A vaguely humanoid shape.

    An angel? No, this was no divine intervention.

    A demon.

    And she was bizarrely attractive for a creature trying to kill me. Blue, feathered hair framed a delicate face, and her figure, lean and wiry, was more reminiscent of a girl from the village than the monstrous fiend she was. The only signs of her demonic nature were the talons gripping me like a vice and the faint, otherworldly glow in her golden eyes.

    ¡°Let go, you underfed vulture!¡± I roared, clawing at the talons digging into my shoulders. The bridge¡¯s edge loomed below, dangerously close as the demon angled to drop me.

    I¡¯d never encountered anything like her before. She was an abomination¡ªa grotesque fusion of woman and bird.

    Her body was mostly bare, save for strategic patches of feathers around her hips. Her perky breasts were in plain sight, as though shame held no quarter amongst her kind. The sight would have been amusing in other circumstances, but right now, all I cared about was not being hurled over the side of the bridge.

    I couldn¡¯t believe this slender demon had the strength to lift me, let alone drag my armored bulk toward the edge.

    Her wings strained with the effort, each beat laborious as she fought to keep us aloft. Despite her ferocity, she looked¡­ fragile. Barely more substantial than a town girl from the village market, she struggled with everything she had to carry me to my doom.

    ¡°Dada ayu, human man! Can¡¯t you kick up a little to give me a lift?¡± she squawked, her voice high-pitched and mocking.

    I managed to hook my foot into a crevice in the ground, halting her progress as I struggled to stabilize myself.

    An oger, emboldened by my precarious position, charged at me with a roar. My swing was awkward but effective, the blade cleaving through its chest and sending it tumbling over the edge.

    I shifted my focus back to the demon, ready to strike her down, but every time I raised my sword, she jerked abruptly to the side. Her erratic movements forced me into awkward, mismatched poses, each swing coming closer to failure than success.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to rip those cursed wings off, demon! Let GO!¡± I roared.

    She wouldn¡¯t, so I made her.

    Using the crevice as leverage, I hauled myself downward, then kicked up with both feet. The sudden motion sent her flailing into the air. As she struggled to stabilize, I swung Chandrabolg in a powerful crescent arc.

    The blade met its mark.

    Her lower half separated cleanly, blood and entrails spilling in a gorey cascade. The demon shrieked in agony, her wings flapping desperately to keep her aloft. But her strength failed, and she plummeted, her screams fading into the depths below.

    I barely had time to catch my breath before a group of ogers charged at me, their spears and swords aimed to push me over the edge.

    A spear glanced off my chestplate, tearing into my cape as it slid past. Another oger lunged with its sword, but I parried the blow, twisting my blade to shatter its weapon. With a final thrust, Chandrabolg found its mark, splitting the demon¡¯s skull and spraying blood across the stone.

    The Sacred Guardians descended in a flash, colliding with the remaining ogers. Their intervention gave me a brief respite to steady myself and prepare to rejoin the fight.

    I gave a cursory glance above just in case and when I saw it, I swore.

    The next wave hit us from the sky.

    An entire flock of winged demon women descended en masse, not just targeting me but every knight on the bridge. More dangerous than any arrow, they moved in coordinated groups of twos and threes, weaving through shields with unsettling grace.

    They struck with precision, talons clamping onto unsuspecting knights and hurling them screaming over the ledge. Others tried to hold onto their comrades, only to be forced to release them¡ªor risk being dragged into the abyss themselves.

    The Paladins struggled to land spells on the darting creatures, their movements too unpredictable for precise strikes. Even the Sacred Guardians, usually hasty in their defense, couldn¡¯t keep up. The battlefield soon resembled a grim hunting ground, with the demons circling like hawks plucking rabbits from an open field.

    I continued to curse under my breath, watching helplessly as the demons continued their hit-and-drop assault.

    One broke formation, diving straight for me. I lunged to meet it, twisting my body mid-air to avoid its talons. My blade lashed out in a wide arc, narrowly missing its wing as it veered away at the last second.

    We weren¡¯t equipped for this, I thought grimly. These creatures were too agile, too erratic. If I¡¯d known they¡¯d be so formidable, I would have pulled us back to the gates, where the archers could pin them down from a safe distance.

    But it was too late for that now.

    As if the winged demons weren¡¯t enough, another menace joined the fray.

    Small scorpion-like creatures, each the size of a small dog, scuttled through the haze of the battle. These vile pests darted in and out of the fray, keeping just out of reach. They only moved in for the kill when my back was turned, their claws snapping eagerly in anticipation.

    Their stingers gleamed with a sickly venom, the mere sight of them enough to make me wary. Every time their chittering cries grew louder, I knew they¡¯d spotted an opening. It was the only warning I had to twist away and strike before they could sink their claws into me.

    Annoying little bastards.

    As I swung, I realized the sheer weight of the invader¡¯s numbers was starting to wear me down.

    They weren¡¯t taking turns anymore, like some haphazard brawl. No, this was a relentless, coordinated assault. Demon after demon came at me without pause, each one more ferocious than the last. I could feel it¡ªthe creeping inevitability of exhaustion. It was only a matter of time before I faltered, and when I did, they¡¯d exploit it mercilessly.

    The Sacred Guardians, ever-loyal, flung themselves into the mix to shield me. Their glowing forms absorbed blows meant for my head and shoulders, buying me precious moments to counterattack. I used every advantage they provided, striking with split-second precision to whittle my way through the onslaught.

    By now, most enemies would have broken ranks, their courage shattered by the numbers I had slained. But these demons? They pressed on with single-minded determination. Was this bravery? Madness? Or something more sinister¡ªa fear that drove them harder than the promise of death ever could?

    Then I saw it¡ªtheir eyes.

    The ogers weren¡¯t fighting with reckless abandon out of courage or loyalty. Their movements, frantic and desperate, told a different story.

    They feared me, yes. But it was nothing compared to the terror that drove them.

    Their true fear was him. The demon commander.

    A voice boomed across the battlefield, silencing the chaos for a fleeting moment. For a moment, I thought it was the commander himself, ready to mock my futile fight. When I realized that it came from the castle and came with an unmistakable tone of righteous ambiance, I even paused.

    Deep and resonant, it carried the weight of unshakable authority. ¡°Those loyal to my father, his majesty¡ªmake way for the paragon of all that is mighty. Do not turn away, for it is here I stand, ready to defy those who would sully my kingdom¡¯s name!¡±

    Every word dripped with charisma and command, cutting through the din like a blade through armor.

    The castle gates groaned to life, their heavy iron frame slowly rising as if summoned by the voice itself.

    Through the opening stepped a figure who could only be described as a titan among men.

    It was Lord Ramel of the Mighty Pillar, the kingdom¡¯s crowned first prince.

    The fighting around us slowed, soldiers on both sides pausing to witness his entrance. His sheer presence was undeniable¡ªa hulking behemoth with tanned skin that gleamed under the sunlight, dark hair framing a face that bore the sharp, chiseled features of royalty. A silver circlet adorned his brow, the lone mark of his status amid the rugged armor and stone that seemed to fuse with his form.

    The Earth Shrine, one of the five sacred shrines tied to the elements of nature, stood within the capital. Lord Ramel, blessed by its power in his youth, wielded its gifts with unmatched mastery. Beneath his command, the very land itself trembled, awaiting his will.

    Enveloped in armor that seemed an extension of his body¡ªstone layered over muscle and sinew¡ªhe raised his arms to the sky. Around him, soldiers gathered, their eyes alight with renewed hope as he invoked the power of the earth.

    ¡°Blessed earth of rock and stone, I call to you!¡± his voice boomed, reverberating across the battlefield. ¡°Give life to that which stands firm before me. Answer my summons! Deliver suffering to those who oppose my kingdom and shield the ones who call it home!¡±

    The fortress architecture seemed to heed his command. Gargoyles perched upon the battlements stirred, their stone forms grinding to life. The once-ornamental statues along the castle walls moved, their rigid postures softening as they flexed limbs that had been still for centuries.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    The largest of the stone constructs, a towering colossus, began to stir. It was the twin of the one that had collapsed from the felfire.

    Cracks raced along its joints as though the giant were waking from an eternal slumber. With a groan that echoed like an ancient mountain shifting, it straightened to its full, imposing height. Its massive legs stepped into the river, water cascading off its rocky form, while its torso loomed high above the bridge.

    Its glowing eyes turned to a smoldering chunk of debris lodged in the castle wall. Reaching out with a colossal hand, it seized the burning mass as though it were nothing more than a pebble. The colossus hurled the fiery rock with devastating force, the sheer velocity creating a shockwave that sent crates, rubble, and even smaller demons scattering as though fleeing the blast.

    The fiery projectile struck the opposing wall with a thunderous BOOM that shook the battlefield to its core.

    Even the demon commander, so confident moments before, ducked behind the gate for cover. The impact obliterated the wall, sending massive chunks of stone flying in all directions. The explosion rippled beyond the gate, splintering into the buildings behind it. Entire structures crumbled under the force, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.

    The battlefield stilled for a breath, the sheer magnitude of destruction momentarily silencing friend and foe alike.

    Hundreds of archers and dozens of catapults have been wiped out in an instant, and without missing a beat the colossus began to raise the stone sword it carried. It was clear that the prince long since accepted the damage he would cause claiming victory, and he ran forward leaps at a time as his stone legs left craters in his wake as he joined to pummel his way to the commander.

    The Lion-Oger Commander, towering even among his demonic kin, realized that his time on the sidelines was over.

    His fiery gaze locked onto the colossus¡ªa foe even larger than himself. He knew that the next strike from the massive sword now poised in the colossus¡¯s hands could easily decimate his forces entirely.

    With a guttural growl, the commander snapped his fingers. The bloodthirsty hounds at his side, coiled like springs, leapt into action. Their howls pierced the air as they surged toward us, teeth bared and eyes glowing with savage hunger.

    As they leapt towards me, tongue flailing and howls rushing out of their jaws, a looming shadow veiled the bridge around me in blanketed darkness as the commander rose to his full height.

    His smirk widened as he shifted his focus. He no longer saw me as the primary threat.

    He planted one massive foot on the shattered gate, using it as a platform to propel himself skyward. The gate crumbled under his weight, stone and steel splintering like brittle clay.

    His battered club, nearly as large as the colossus itself, rose high above his head as he launched through the air with terrifying speed.

    The colossus, unrelenting, hurled its massive stone sword with all the force of a mountain in motion. The weapon tore through the air with a heavy whistle, aimed directly at the airborne commander.

    The impact was catastrophic.

    The stone blade collided with the club mid-swing, unleashing a thunderous BOOM that echoed across the battlefield. The shockwave rippled through the bridge, sending loose debris crumbling off into the river and fresh cracks snaking along the structure.

    The commander, though powerful, couldn¡¯t fully withstand the force. He was sent spiraling back, crashing into the wall of the noble¡¯s district and sending a cascade of dust and rubble billowing out from the blow.

    ¡°By the gods,¡± a Holy Knight shouted as he pulled his halberd out of a winged demon. ¡°The Prince is here, and we have the commander cornered! We¡¯re going to be victorious!¡±

    Don¡¯t say that,  I thought scornfully. We¡¯re fighting for our lives, and here you are spouting hopeful nonsense at the first time we had the tables turned. Don¡¯t jinx it!

    The demon commander, though battered by the colossus¡¯s strike, slid down the cracked stone in an almost calculated descent, his movements strangely fluid for a creature of his size. There was no earth-shattering impact as I¡¯d expected, but rather a soft crumble. It was as though he pulled the brakes mid-air, landed on the wall with a lack of grace, and was readying himself to the ground.

    For all his bulk, the commander seemed unnaturally light, as if his sheer presence defied the laws of nature. He floated like a wisp of smoke, a force of destruction poised to strike again at any moment.

    Recovering quickly, the commander pressed his massive frame against the wall and launched himself back into the duel.

    He streaked through the air like a golden blur, skimming just above the bridge before colliding with the colossus in a deafening crash. The massive construct, so imposing moments before, found itself utterly outmatched by the commander¡¯s sheer ferocity.

    With brutal efficiency, the commander¡¯s club swung in a series of blinding arcs. Each strike cleaved massive chunks from the colossus¡¯s stone limbs, the blows echoing like thunderclaps. The colossus staggered under the assault, its mighty form reduced to rubble as the commander delivered a final, devastating strike that severed its upper torso completely.

    The earth shuddered as the colossus toppled, its remnants splashing into the river below.

    Each strike from the commander¡¯s club sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. The force of his blows churned the river below, waves crashing against the banks in a chaotic dance.

    As the colossus crumbled, its shattered remains tumbling into the water, the commander seized the opportunity. Using the falling construct as a platform, he propelled himself upward, landing with a resounding crash on our side of the bridge.

    The commander had clearly taken note of my strategy¡ªsplitting his forces to give my allies a fighting chance. Now, he intended to turn the tables, with nothing standing between him and our forces but the imposing figure of Lord Ramel.

    As the golden armor shone through the dusty mist, the commander leaned with a taunting pose, his club resting over his shoulders. In a picturesque scene similar to that of David and the Goliath, it was ironic that the prince, who could cast the deadly stone, fell face to face with the unstoppable force that feared no man. Their battle was on.

    I didn¡¯t wait to see how the prince would fare on his own. Barking orders over the cacophony of battle, I shouted, ¡°Holy Knights, to his majesty¡¯s side! Paladins, forward! Keep the enemy at bay and hold the line!¡±

    Some knights obeyed immediately, but hesitation rippled through others, including Samuelle. I could see doubt flickering in their eyes as they glanced between me and the towering demon.

    ¡°But shouldn¡¯t we all be aiding his majesty?!¡± a Paladin called out, his voice trembling with urgency.

    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave you to face this onslaught alone!¡± another knight, the surly one from earlier, bellowed, his tone laced with defiance.

    ¡°Follow your orders and move!¡± My commanding voice rang, breaking the thickening despair that held my soldiers in place.

    A second wind surged through me as the gravity of the moment pressed down on my shoulders. This was it¡ªthe decisive point in the battle. We had no time for hesitation.

    The demon commander fixed his burning gaze on Lord Ramel, his sneer curling into something resembling amusement. Whatever reprimand or insult passed between them was lost to the chaos, but it didn¡¯t matter.

    Ramel stood his ground.

    The prince, flanked by his soldiers and reinforced by the Holy Knights now at his side, radiated an unyielding defiance. There was no fear in his eyes¡ªonly a fierce, untamed bloodlust aimed squarely at the towering demon before him.

    I watched as the commander¡¯s club began its deadly arc, swallowing the sky like a harbinger of ruin. But Ramel didn¡¯t flinch. Channeling the earth¡¯s raw power, he moved with precision, closing the distance between them.

    At that moment, he wasn¡¯t just a prince. He was worth a hundred heroes, his sights locked on the enemy with unwavering determination.

    I tore my attention away from Ramel¡¯s clash with the commander, focusing instead on the battle raging around me.

    The remnants of my comrades and the Sacred Guardians regrouped, forming a united front against the hellish hounds and their oger reinforcements.

    The two-headed hounds were massive¡ªevery bit as fearsome as I had feared¡ªbut their canine instincts betrayed them. For all their ferocity, they still fought like animals, lunging wildly and snapping at anything within reach.

    I dodged their gnashing jaws, keeping well clear of their dual maws. With precise strikes, I dispatched the first two that dared to close the gap, their monstrous forms crumpling under the weight of my blade.

    But then, they pulled back.

    At first, I thought they were retreating, cowed by our dominating presence. But their calculated movements told a different story.

    It wasn¡¯t fear that drove the hounds to pull back¡ªit was strategy. These damned mutts weren¡¯t acting like animals, they were just playing the part!

    Before I could act, a shadow fell over the battlefield.

    I looked up to see another barrage filling the sky. Arrows, black as night, rained down in deadly arcs, their trajectory sharper and more deliberate than before. Burning debris followed close behind, streaking toward us.

    The precision of the attack left me trembling. This wasn¡¯t the wild, reckless bombardment of earlier. This was calculated, meant to cut off our advance and pin us in place.

    Even the ogers, brutish as they were, seemed to understand the danger. They scrambled to flee, clearing the area with surprising urgency.

    ¡°You¡¯re not getting away this time!¡± a voice rang out¡ªa lone Holy Knight, breaking formation.

    As the Paladins scrambled to raise their shields in defense, this knight charged forward, sword gleaming, oblivious to the impending danger.

    I froze for a heartbeat, disbelief gripping me. The Holy Knights were supposed to be with Ramel, reinforcing his position. What in the gods¡¯ name was this fool doing here, rushing headlong into certain death?

    The answer didn¡¯t matter. What mattered was that his recklessness was about to cost us dearly.

    ¡°NO! FALL BACK!¡± I roared, reaching out as if my voice alone could stop him.

    But it was too late.

    The first arrow struck true, piercing the knight¡¯s armor and sending him staggering mid-charge. More followed, a deadly volley that tore through both him and the Sacred Guardians rushing to shield him.

    Two Paladins, desperate to intervene, were caught in the next wave. A felfire projectile exploded on impact, obliterating them in a gruesome spray of blood and shattered armor.

    In the blink of an eye, over half of my remaining forces lay in ruin.

    The reckless knight, mortally wounded, swayed where he stood. For a brief, agonizing moment, he turned back toward me, as if seeking guidance¡ªor forgiveness. Then he toppled over the ledge, vanishing into the rocky waters below.

    I had surged forward, instinct driving me to save him as I had others before. My hand was already reaching for the light of healing, ready to mend his wounds.

    But then pain¡ªsharp and searing¡ªshot through my back.

    I staggered, turning just in time to see one of the scorpion-like demons trying to scuttle back into the shadows. The wretched thing had been lying in wait, its venomous stinger poised for a moment of distraction. And I had given it one.

    With a single slash, I ended the scorpion demon before it could escape, its venomous stinger severed along with its wretched life.

    But the damage was done.

    By the time I turned back toward the fallen knight, his fate was sealed. He was gone¡ªlost to the rocky waters below. Rage surged through me, blinding and all-consuming. Letting out a guttural roar, I charged toward the nearest hound, intent on slaughtering anything that dared cross my path.

    But as I took my first step, the world tilted.

    It was as if I¡¯d missed a stair, my footing lost in an instant. I toppled forward, crashing face-first into the ground. The dirt bit into my skin, gritty and cold, its taste filling my mouth as I struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

    ¡°What¡­ what¡¯s happening¡­?¡± I murmured, my voice barely audible over the chaos around me.

    ¡°Lord Adrian, get up! They¡¯re going to¡ªARRRGH!¡±

    A cry of pain cut through the air, followed by a sickening squelch. I couldn¡¯t see what happened, but the sound told me everything I needed to know. Another comrade had fallen.

    Chandrabolg, my ever-reliable blade, had slipped from my grasp during the fall.

    It landed a few feet away, its brilliant glow dimming with each passing moment. Without its connection to my mana, the Sacred Guardians faltered. One by one, their golden forms dissolved into faint wisps of light, leaving the battlefield darker, colder.

    A violent spasm wracked my back, muscles seizing uncontrollably.

    Yet, strangely, there was no pain¡ªonly an unsettling numbness spreading through my limbs. My mind raced, struggling to make sense of it. Was this paralysis? Had that damned scorpion demon¡¯s venom trapped me in some cruel, immobile trance?

    This is absurd. What bullshit is this?

    Paladins are immune to poison and disease¡ªour divine aura neutralizes such threats almost instantly. I shouldn¡¯t be lying here, helpless, while the battle rages on around me.

    Ah, but it isn¡¯t poison, a dark voice whispered in the recesses of my mind.

    The realization hit me like a hammer. I had been stung¡ªnot in the thick plate of my armor, but in the one exposed spot, hidden beneath the folds of my cape. It wasn¡¯t poison coursing through me.

    It was venom.

    ¡°Oh, for the love of¡ªthis is a technicality!¡± I growled, my voice hoarse and dripping with frustration.

    I could feel the vibrations of approaching footsteps¡ªogers and hounds, circling like vultures closing in on a dying beast. My allies, scattered and struggling, fought valiantly, but we were outnumbered.

    A warm hand pressed against my back¡ªa Paladin, attempting to heal me.

    Before the magic could take hold, a snarling oger lunged in. The blade swung down with brutal precision, severing the healer¡¯s arm in one swift stroke. The dismembered limb landed just within my line of sight, twitching feebly before falling still.

    A cry of anguish erupted behind me, unmistakably Samuelle¡¯s voice. He hadn¡¯t even had time to react before the hounds were upon him, their jaws tearing into flesh and armor alike. His gurgled screams echoed in my ears as blood spilled freely, pooling into the dirt.

    The spasms grew more violent, my body rebelling against itself.

    And then, humiliation compounded the horror. A sharp, involuntary heave wracked my gut, and I felt the mortifying release as my body voided itself.

    Seriously? A venom that paralyzes the victim and forces them to shit themselves? Is this really how I¡¯m gonna go?

    The ogers, enraged by their losses, had finished massacring my allies. They then turned their fury on me.

    Their heavy feet stomped down repeatedly, pounding into my armor and flesh. But all I felt were muted vibrations, my body too numb to register the full extent of their brutality. It was as though the venom had sealed me in a cocoon of apathy, sparing me the pain but not the shame.

    Each breath became a desperate battle, rasping and shallow.

    My lungs felt heavy, unresponsive, as if the venom had seeped into every corner of my body, stealing not just my strength but my ability to simply exist.

    This is absurd, I thought again, humiliation twisting in my gut.

    Pathetic. Embarrassing.

    I¡¯d had these brutes on the ropes, dominating the battlefield. And now? Now I was lying here, helpless, as they vented their rage on me, as my body betrayed me in the most degrading way possible.

    It felt as though a piece of gum I had accidentally swallowed as a toddler could have been plucked from a corner of my body to finally make its escape with how much was coming out. Was I really this backed up, or something? Could this venom be liquidating me from the inside, and forcing me to literally shit my own guts out in this humiliating pose?

    My eyes became blurry as I saw a clutter of stone bounced around me and more anguished cries from behind me. I couldn¡¯t turn to look thanks to my state. I wish I couldn¡¯t smell either, because the constant stomping was akin to stepping onto a wet, pudding filled balloon. The squelches it made were enough to make me vomit, but it seems the venom took even that away from me to make its way out the back door.

    A minute stretched into eternity.

    At first, there was only numbness¡ªdull and distant. Then the pain came.

    It wasn¡¯t subtle or creeping; it was sharp, all-encompassing, a crushing force that surged through my body like fire. It felt as though I were being wrung dry, every ounce of strength and dignity squeezed from me like toothpaste from the tube.

    ¡°HRRRRRNK¡ªAHHHHHH!¡±

    A guttural scream tore from my throat, the only sound I could manage as agony flooded every nerve in my body.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it¡ªthe demon commander¡¯s massive club pressing down onto my back. The weight was unimaginable, as if the entire world had collapsed onto me.

    My bloodshot eyes strained to focus, catching the hulking figure standing above me. The commander wasn¡¯t even looking at me. His gaze was fixed ahead, disinterested, as though crushing me was no more significant than stepping on an insect.

    ¡°NAMO, MITRE. IS HERO STILL ALIVE?¡±

    The demon commander¡¯s voice rumbled low, almost conversational, as if he were inquiring about the weather. He wasn¡¯t speaking to me¡ªnot directly. It was a question tossed into the air, meant for anyone still standing to answer.

    ¡°Y-yes, commander¡­¡± an oger stammered, its voice trembling with unease. ¡°We kick and kick, but it¡­ it doesn''t fight back. Just¡­ gives natti but merdu in response.¡±

    The words were met with a ripple of snickers from the nearby demons, their cruel amusement palpable.

    The laughter spread, low and mocking, as if I were the punchline to some sick joke.

    If there was something funny about all this, I wished I could have known. One last laugh might have been a fitting way to go.

    ¡°Ah, abhi?a, where are my manners?¡±

    The Lion-Oger¡¯s voice dripped with mockery, his words clumsy but deliberate. His glee was sickening, each syllable underscoring the futility of my situation.

    ¡°It seems you have lost, dear hero. Lost so spectacularly, so miserably, that even I must pity you.¡±

    With a flick of his claw, Chandrabolg clattered to the ground beside me. The sound of the once-glorious blade striking the stone gravel echoed louder than it should have.

    ¡°Go on,¡± he purred. ¡°Your sword. One last swing, perhaps? Surely even a fallen hero can muster that much.¡±

    I tried.

    I willed every ounce of my strength, every shred of mana, to respond. But my body had betrayed me.

    Broken, battered, and drowning in my own blood and shit, I couldn¡¯t move. Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, mingling with the dirt and filth beneath me.

    I begged silently¡ªfor strength, for a miracle, for anything.

    But nothing answered me. I was alone in my despair.

    ¡°No? Already giving up?¡± The commander tilted his head, his voice dripping with false pity. ¡°What a shame.¡±

    He leaned closer, his shadow swallowing what little light remained around me. ¡°Perhaps you could have won. If only you¡¯d reached for it¡ªif only you¡¯d had the strength to swing for my throat.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re weak,¡± he sneered, the contempt in his voice cutting deeper than any blade. ¡°All of you. Not a single one could scratch me. Your swords, your spells, your prayers¡ªuseless.¡±

    He gestured at the carnage around us, his grin widening. ¡°Your comrades? Their corpses aren¡¯t even worth the dirt they disturbed as they fell.¡±

    The commander¡¯s eyes glinted with malicious satisfaction as he raised his colossal foot, the weight of it enough to crush anything in its path.

    With a single, contemptuous motion, his foot descended on Chandrabolg, as if the blade was no more than a mere obstacle to be eradicated. There was no regard for the weapon¡¯s history, no understanding of its significance.

    ¡°PATHETIC. USELESS. WARM-BLOODED INGRATES!¡± The commander bellowed, his voice thundering with contempt as he drove his foot into the sword again and again.

    Each strike resounded, the sound of divine metal clanging against the brute force of his stomp. It felt as though the bridge could finally give at any moment, but it was the sword that my eyes froze on. The first few rings were sharp and defiant, but each succeeding blow dulled the tone, the sound growing fainter, more hopeless.

    On the twelfth strike, the blade bent under the immense weight of his attack. A final, crushing stomp shattered it entirely.

    Chandrabolg¡ªonce the symbol of our strength and our kingdom¡ªsplintered, the shards scattering across the stone and dirt. The last chime it made as it broke was a hollow echo, the death knell of a hope that had long since faded.

    I could only watch, blood pooling beneath me, as my greatsword was reduced to ruin. The tears stung, mingling with the blood and dirt on my face, but I had no strength to wipe them away.

    The commander stepped back, a deep, mocking chuckle rumbling in his throat. ¡°Ah, there it is. You wounded me.¡± He sneered down at the shattered sword that had left a small knick in his foot. ¡°What a nasty little weapon that was. Too bad I had to break it.¡±

    He straightened, taking a deep, exaggerated breath, savoring the destruction. ¡°I¡¯ve broken everything here. All your toys, your little heroes. Crushed them, snapped them, sliced them¡­¡±

    He leaned closer, his foul breath heavy with triumph. ¡°And I¡¯m sure there¡¯s more to break in your little castle. I¡¯ve heard rumors of a lovely queen there. I¡¯m certain her screams would make the sweetest music when I squeeze the life from her.¡±

    I snapped out of my haze, fury burning through the fog of my suffering. A growl rumbled from my chest¡ªweak, but defiant. I couldn¡¯t speak, my lungs too crushed to produce words, but I could still show him my hatred.

    His eyes bulged with sick pleasure as he watched me writhe, clearly amused by my attempts to fight back.

    ¡°Mmmm¡­ HMPH!¡± I grunted, my lips moving in desperate, futile attempts to form words, like a fish gasping for air.

    ¡°Oho, still trying to ward me off?¡± The commander laughed, his eyes flashing with dark delight. He leaned in closer, his shadow swallowing the last remnants of sunlight.

    Where once warmth bathed me, now only cold sorrow and isolation remained. His eyes, gleaming with malice, reflected my broken face.

    ¡°I think you¡¯ve gotten¡­ ¡° The commander¡¯s voice softened, a chilling note of finality creeping into his words.

    He raised a clawed hand, two fingers curling together in a gesture so simple, yet so ominous.

    ¡°A ¡®head¡¯ of yourself.¡±

    With that, his fingers flicked.

    The flick of his fingers sent a jolt through the air.

    In an instant, everything went white¡ªblinding, all-consuming light. The agonizing pain, the heavy weight of my body, all melted away. For the briefest moment, I felt¡­ relief.

    But then my vision slowly began to return, and what I saw sent a cold chill down my spine. Well, I had thought it did.

    The battlefield, the hundreds of ogers gathered around the commander¡ªall of it was distant, blurred. And there, lying on the ground, was a crumpled heap.

    Was that¡­ my body?

    The grotesque remains of flesh, blood, and filth smeared across the battlefield were all that remained of me.

    My head was torn from my body, flung high into the air as if tossed by a child¡¯s careless hand.

    Did that asshole really just do that?

    I saw the commander¡¯s snarling grin one last time, that gleeful, mocking expression plastered on his face as I fell.

    I flailed, helpless, into the depths below. Darkness enveloped me, swallowing all pain, all suffering, all regret. In its endless abyss, I felt nothing but the release¡ªthe great, empty expanse of the void.

    And then... I guess I died.

    And that was how it ended, with me as a god blessed hero. That was my story in all of its glory, with the pages of all my great deeds and accomplishments torn out with no sense of reverence, and used like toilet paper in this sorry excuse of a legend.

    And then I fucking died.

    Well shit, so much for that life.

 Chapter 3: Itéˆ¥æªš Complicated

    Hey! So you¡¯re probably wondering why I¡¯m still talking at this point. I¡¯m dead, riiiight~? Completely donezo. Beaten to the dirt, sent flying off a bridge, lost all of my honor and glory, yadda yadda. Sure, it was an epic finale to a battle that decided the fate of my kingdom, but when you¡¯re dead, you¡¯re dead! D-E-A-D, dead. Suuuuper dead.

    But wait¡ªhere¡¯s the twist. This isn¡¯t my first rodeo. Nope, I¡¯ve been reincarnated before, and I became a hero with my own theme music and everything. I made myself into the perfect little Mary Sue, all suited up and decked to the nines with every little blessing and skill I could find. It took almost three decades, but despite all the pain and suffering, I was practically the poster child for a shounen anime!

    Or, well, I tried to be. Clearly, that didn¡¯t pan out, though. So, this is me me now. Some chump that died two worlds ago. Gotta love that irony, huh? I tried living up to the whole ¡®hero¡¯ shtick, threw myself into the role, and then bam! I died because of some stupid loophole. Same thing happened the first time, but let¡¯s not dig into that mess.

    So what¡¯s next? I had some idea, if it was anything like last time. But it feels like I¡¯m stuck in this big ol'' waiting room. Is it for the next life? Or maybe the afterlife? Who knows.

    I remember the first time this happened, when I was stuck ¡°in between¡±. I was really hoping to meet some cute goddess or at least get a nice tour of pearly gates, but nope! Instead, I got stuck in the coldest, darkest void you can imagine. And then¡ªPOOF!¡ªI was a baby again. Talk about a rude awakening.

    Really confusing until I had enough brain juice in that noggin of mine to understand that I was reborn. Yeah, like I was waking up from some weird coma, drifting in and out of a fever dream. You know, that kind of vibe.

    As I pondered this torrent of thoughts, floating through the void, I remembered there was someone I met after the first time I died. Some¡­ thing. They were a bit of a weirdo, though. I still can¡¯t decide if it was a guy or a girl. Hell, at this point, I¡¯m not sure they knew either.

    As the endless blackness slowly faded into a soft, comforting gray, I groaned like a guy who just realized he missed a meeting. I closed my eyes, felt the forming ground, and then¡ªwait for it¡ªI sat up.

    Okay, that¡¯s progress. I have a body now. Not the first time this happened, so no big surprise there. But the colors shifting around me? Well, that was the same before too, actually.

    ¡°Heya, there.¡± A voice rang out, all soft and calming, like someone greeting you after you¡¯ve been in a coma for a few weeks. Honestly, it sounded like talking to an old friend¡ªif that friend had an oddly soothing voice. It almost felt nostalgic, and I swear it was the exact same thing they said to me the last time.

    I cracked my eyes open to a scene that felt straight out of a 1950s TV show¡ªgray scale, old-timey vibes, the whole shebang. The ground beneath me was this weird, feathery, checkered floor that stretched on forever, like the world¡¯s most comfortable carpeted hill. Seriously, it wasn¡¯t the kind of floor you¡¯d find in a school hallway¡ªit felt more like the inside of a pillow or the underside of a bird¡¯s feathers. It was soft, cozy, and honestly? I was about two seconds away from curling up and taking a nap.

    The world here was tiny, too. Last time, I figured I could¡¯ve walked around the whole place in less than an hour¡ªtops. The sky was this weird blend of off-whites, like a constant, never-ending moonlight. It was the kind of light that made you feel like you could wait forever, and it¡¯d still feel like you were just waiting. Not exactly the most promising of places.

    Interestingly enough, there was a home, or at least a conventional building that looked like a home, settling off in the distance, with a couple of palm trees. I assume this is still the home of the voice I just heard, as I smirked at the possible misfortune of somehow getting an eviction notice here and being kicked out to the heavenly astroturf.

    ¡°Can you hear me? I¡¯m glad you seem to be taking this so well, but it¡¯s important to remember why you¡¯re here.¡± The voice droned on. At this point, I finally turned my gaze to where the voice was coming from¡ªthe person who seemed to have all the answers. Spoiler alert: they didn¡¯t.

    There they were, sitting on the floor like it was no big deal¡ªno desk, no chair, just spandex-covered limbs sprawled out. They were¡­ well, pretty much featureless. Light gray body, arms, legs¡ªjust your average humanoid spandex mannequin with fingers and toes thrown in for good measure. No face, no ears (barely), but if I squinted hard enough, I could almost see what was probably concern. Or maybe it was a massive headache from putting up with my nonsense.

    To sum it up: they looked like a lanky adult in a full-body spandex suit. Custom-fitted, of course, because why not make the afterlife¡¯s fashion game on point? It was spotless too, which was almost suspicious. I watched them for a sec as they scratched an itch on their ribs, and the material of their suit stretched and pulled like it was alive¡ªlike a fancy yoga outfit that doubled as a straightjacket.

    ¡°Hey, God. Good to see you again.¡± I finally spoke up, sitting myself up straight. I scratched at my own spandex suit, realizing I was rocking one too¡ªdarker gray, but still way too tight. Itched like hell, too. I remembered the last time I figured this out. I¡¯d yanked at the thing, trying to rip it off like some dumb pro-wrestler flexing for the cameras, only to find more spandex underneath. And more. Eventually, I ended up with something that looked like a makeshift skirt. Yeah, I gave up after that. The spandex is my school uniform now. A part of my life I couldn¡¯t escape, apparently.

    ¡°You do know I¡¯m not God, right? I¡¯m just a guy. A Guidance Guy, to be precise.¡± the figure replied, sounding like they were totally in on the joke.

    ¡°Ah, right! I used to call you G.G. Remember that?¡± I grinned, thinking back to my old death jokes, like how I¡¯d casually say ¡°Guess it¡¯s GG for me!¡± when things went south.

    ¡°¡°You did, and I hated it, but now? Now I¡¯m fine with it. Kind of grew on me, actually.¡± He shrugged, ¡°Call me Guidance Guy, Guy, or ¡®G.G.¡¯¡ªwhatever floats your boat,¡± Then he said an old name that I haven¡¯t heard in almost thirty years.

    ¡°Ah, yeah, I¡¯d prefer Adrian now.¡± I corrected, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m sure you saw how I lived my life before, right? You¡¯d better have!¡±

    ¡°I see. Adrian, huh?¡± He paused for a second, like he was racking his brain to remember something important, or maybe just trying to recall what he had for dinner last night. ¡°I thought you¡¯d go for your old name, but... no matter. Adrian, I¡¯m sorry to say this, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I died. Pretty badly, too. Did you see the way I flew off that bridge? From such a stupid thing, too.¡± I interrupted.

    G.G. hesitated for a second, like they were trying to figure out how to break it to me gently. But hey, considering my utter lack of concern for my untimely demise, I¡¯m guessing casual was probably the way to go here.

    ¡°Yeah, it was. Those demons really seemed to be gunning for you, huh? The harpies in particular were quite the treat.¡±

    ¡°Look, I know you¡¯re probably watching everything go down, but don¡¯t you dare start ogling the girls that were trying to kill us!¡± I scolded, and we both chuckled. Underneath their spandex, I could swear I saw a little exasperated grin stretching across their face.

    I couldn¡¯t blame them, honestly. When I was in ¡°Adrian Mode¡±, or whatever you wanna call my in-life personality, I was a chaste man whose eyes looked to the holy light. Here though, as just¡­ well, old me, I¡¯d totally understand why he would leer at some harpy titties. I would have let my perversion get the better of me too if they weren¡¯t trying to murder me. Kind of hard to get a chub on when you¡¯re already busy with a battle boner.

    ¡°Really though, I knew you were trying to make a name for yourself,¡± they remarked with a shrug, both hands in the air. ¡°But I wasn¡¯t expecting a demon invasion to occur in the world I picked for you. I wanted to make sure you knew that I was trying to give you a fighting chance, so I¡¯m sorry it ended like that.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough. But let¡¯s be real here. With my line of work¡ªbeing a hero and all¡ªit¡¯s not like my life expectancy was ever gonna be that high to begin with.¡± I shrugged, shaking the lewd thoughts away.

    ¡°Still, like you had promised, you worked hard from the day you could walk. You led a good life. Helped people.¡± G.G. paused. ¡°Though I have to admit, you were a bit unorthodox in your methods. And let¡¯s not even talk about how much of a troublemaker you were for your peers.¡±

    ¡°Look, there¡¯s always going to be people trying to box me in with their rules and regulations just so they can feel all high and mighty!¡± I waved a hand dismissively. ¡°I wasn¡¯t about that, even in my old-old life! I played their game, memorized every scripture, and trained my ass off with a sword until I was basically a hero out of some video game. I saved people I cared about!¡±

    ¡°You almost really died there early on. Remember when you were all cocky with your swordplay, only to get mauled by a ridiculously fiendish owlbear?¡± G.G. smirked, clearly enjoying this bit too much.

    I remembered. Back then, I was just a Novice-Class Holy Knight, still green and eager, tagging along with some peers and a Saint-Class Paladin. We were sent into the woods after reports of a creature attacking caravans. An owlbear¡ªbig, mean, and really tough. I thought it was a cakewalk. One good slash with a longsword, and it¡¯d bleed out. But nope. What I didn¡¯t count on was it being a massive, territorial alpha male. The owlbear wasn¡¯t just some rabid beast; it was a monster stacked like a brick house with something to prove. And dying from blood loss? Not so quick.

    The damn thing had a death wish, too, and in the time it took to bleed out, it got me good. Next thing I knew, I was on the brink of death, staring up at the trees wondering why I was so stupid. So, I came back here, cursing like a sailor, and got a nice little lecture from G.G. about things like ¡°knowing my limits¡± and ¡°taking care of myself¡± while he handed me a report card on how I¡¯d done in my previous life. Great. A freaking report card. But hey, lucky for me, a Paladin found me and managed to pull me back from the brink, and I learned my lesson... eventually. That lesson? Don¡¯t go charging at things that could rip you apart just because you think you¡¯re the hero in the story.

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit it, I learned from that reckless mistake. You really helped me on that day, G.G., so... uh, thanks. Never thought I¡¯d say it, but I¡¯m actually kinda glad we met.¡±

    ¡°Glad, huh...?¡± G.G. grinned. ¡°Let me remind you that the first time we met, you spent hours trying to argue and debate me into resurrecting you. And then you called me a¡ªwhat was it...?¡± Another pause. ¡°Oh yeah. A ¡®stupid, useless, no-good-excuse sack-of-shit that judged others and should just die already.¡¯ Quite the mouthful, don¡¯t you think?¡± G.G. chuckled, clearly finding that moment pretty funny.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    I winced, cringing at the reminder of just how bad I¡¯d been before I was reincarnated. I was a middle-aged man, still stuck in his teenage years, obsessed with anime, porn, and all that lazy, self-indulgent crap. It¡¯s almost depressing to think that I shed that life, like peeling off a layer of this spandex, when I became a Paladin... only to have someone¡ªG.G.¡ªsee me for exactly what I was. A spoiled, self-centered mess. Yeah, I was ashamed of that.

    ¡°Sorry...¡± I muttered, embarrassed.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± G.G. said thoughtfully. ¡°Your apology came with a bit of growth, and that¡¯s all I ever asked for. Even if it¡¯s only a little growth.¡±

    ¡°Only slightly, huh? So, does that mean you¡¯ve got a report card on my life now? All my karma points and such?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°A report card? You think I¡¯m some kind of teacher? Nah, I¡¯d rather think of myself as more of a guidance counselor, thanks.¡± G.G. gave a warm, self-deprecating laugh. ¡°But sure, in the grand scheme of things, you could call it a report card. And yeah, as far as I¡¯m concerned? You passed with full marks.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but nod enthusiastically, throwing in a couple of arm pumps for good measure. ¡°Hell yeah! Knew I turned it around! Thanks, G.G.!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t start celebrating just yet, Adrian,¡± G.G. said, their tone suddenly shifting to something more serious.

    ¡°What do you mean? Did I do something irrevocably wrong?¡± I asked, mentally sweating at all the possible actions I could have taken that ran afoul of the karma police law, like the flash of anxiety you get when an officer asks ¡°Do you know why I pulled you over?¡±.

    ¡°Well¡­ no¡­¡± G.G. said, looking slightly nervous as they leaned forward, their chin resting in their hands. ¡°It¡¯s just that, uh¡­ it¡¯s complicated.¡± Yeah, no kidding. As if that vague explanation cleared anything up. Like hell it did!

    ¡°Alright, so what¡¯s going on?¡± I asked, a little nervous now.

    G.G. clapped their hands together as they began to explain. ¡°So, the first time we met, we made a deal. You live a redeeming life, and I helped you live your next life in a world of your choosing.¡±

    ¡°The world you asked for, and I quote,¡± they went on with a chuckle, ¡°¡®A bunch of cute elves and hot blue-haired demon girls with big¡ªexcuse me, ¡®humongous¡¯¡ªtitties, that I could retire and have fun with!¡¯¡± They grinned. ¡°I actually found a place pretty close to what you wanted. Same kind of vibe as the last one you were just in, but... more up your alley.¡±

    I felt the blood drain from my face for several reasons at this, but I gulped and nodded anyway. They went on.

    ¡°Despite you passing your test on living a better life and therefore fulfilling your end of the bargain, some wrenches have been thrown into the works, and in the delay of paperwork being sent through, the world has since been assigned to another, so I can¡¯t send you to your ¡®holy paradise¡¯, as you would put it. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    The last words hit me like two hammering blows to the heart. I crumpled in dismay as I prostrated on the floor, tears wanting to form but unable to leave my smoothed face. It may have not been necessarily the world I wanted now, but it certainly wasn¡¯t off the menu of my old carnal desires. I remained chaste thanks to the harsh training regimen of becoming a Paladin, under the assumption that the next life I got for my penance would be lavished with smiling faces of cute girls just ready to fall head over heels for me.

    And it was for nothing. All these years of strained impulses, the smiles through the pain, it was all squandered in mere moments. I cursed the lucky fucker that reincarnated in that world. I hoped his arms fell off, unable to grasp any lump of soft flesh, and his dick went limp at the mere sight of those beautiful women.

    ¡°Wuh... but why...?¡± I managed to croak, my teeth clenched in frustration.

    ¡°I know. It¡¯s not optimal. Things like this do happen, though. It¡¯s a shame, really. There was one red-head beauty that I was rooting for you to meet, too.¡± their voice, still soft, couldn¡¯t contain a shit-eating grin, like they saw their best friend get rejected from a girl they knew was out of their league. I twisted at the words, like they were knives being driven into my sides.

    ¡°Please¡­ stop¡­¡± I murmured as I began to fully collapse on the floor, the soft checkered fur inviting me into a lull. I wanted to lie there forever, perhaps to fall asleep and wake up in this nondescript fantasy world that had eluded my grasp.

    ¡°Like I said though, it¡¯s complicated.¡± Guidance Guy went on. ¡°You see, you¡¯re only technically dead, but in a way, you¡¯re not.¡±

    Like I was shocked back into reality, my body jolted back up into a sitting pose, unable to process what they just said.

    ¡°What the hell, man? What do you mean, ¡®technically dead¡¯? I got my ass beaten, battered, and beheaded by some giant demon! My head literally flew off! How the hell is there coming back from that?!¡±

    G.G. stared at me blankly, like I was the one speaking gibberish, not them.

    ¡°You¡¯re not quite all there, okay? In so many senses of the phrase. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re a bit jumbled up.¡± they finally confessed. I cocked my head forward, as if I just heard them call me a lunatic.

    ¡°Quit fucking around and just tell me what the hell is going on!¡± I shouted, my frustration boiling over. The words echoed, but G.G. stayed calm, not raising their voice. Typical school counselor move¡ªjust let the kid vent.

    ¡°I was getting to that,¡± G.G. they said solemnly, staring back at me with an empty look. ¡°I can¡¯t give you all the details, but I¡¯ll explain what I can.¡±

    ¡°Right... yeah. Sorry. This is a bit much, you know?¡± I stammered, feeling a little embarrassed. It wasn¡¯t like G.G. was messing with me. They were just trying to make sure I got through all of this, even if I¡¯d been a complete jerk to them from the very beginning.

    ¡°Of course... Adrian,¡± G.G. said, almost like they were trying to get their thoughts together. ¡°Let me break it down in a way that makes sense. Do you remember when the souls of those dead soldiers rose up to protect you and your friends?¡± They raised a finger like they were going to begin a lesson.

    ¡°Yeah, the spirit guardians summoned by Chandrabolg,¡± I said with a nod.

    ¡°Right. So that only works if the bodies are really fresh. The soul hangs around for a while, but eventually it moves on to the afterlife... or, in your case, the world we picked out for you,¡± G.G. explained. So far, this was starting to make sense.

    ¡°This place is like your own personal holding tank, keeping your soul from floating off until I can help guide it to where it needs to go next,¡± G.G. continued, pointing at themself.

    ¡°So far, so good. So what¡¯s the catch this time?¡± I asked, scratching my head, not sure if I was going to like the answer.

    ¡°Take a look at this.¡± they noted as they leaned forward and pressed the palm of their hand toward me, and it suddenly stopped. A meter between us, their hand was leaning against a pristine layer of what appeared to be glass. I did the same, and when my hand tried to touch theirs, unable to do so, they squirmed and blushed as they retreated to their original sitting spot.

    ¡°Oh stop, you can¡¯t, what will they think of us? I¡¯d never be able to look directly into their eyes again!¡± they joked, giggling at some sort of lewd thought. I gawked at this comment as I shriveled back to my own spot.

    ¡°Ahem. As you can see, I can¡¯t directly interact with you. This wasn¡¯t here before, as you can recall that you chased me with the intent of strangling me when I said you were getting too mouthy the first time we met. For hours. Such stamina¡­¡± they said with a bit of distracted thought, as though the memory of me hunting them down to wrangle their neck was rather a delightful chase through the flowery meadows.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not good, is it?¡± I said, still a little slow on the uptake.

    ¡°It¡¯s not good at all,¡± G.G. said, shifting back to serious mode. ¡°It means you haven¡¯t, and can¡¯t, pass on. You¡¯re still dead, yes, but your soul remains trapped in some sort of limbo. Usually things like these suggest that you are like, how to say, a ghost or a shade.¡±

    I blinked at G.G., unable to wrap my head around what they were saying.

    ¡°An undead?!¡± I shouted in disbelief.

    ¡°Y-yeah, something like that.¡± G.G. shrugged, looking a bit defeated. And suddenly, everything clicked.

    I wasn¡¯t about to reincarnate at all, no wonder why I wasn''t about to hit the jackpot with cute elves and the like. I was here, sure, but that didn¡¯t mean it was guaranteed to be time to ¡®move on¡¯. It was being sent to the boss¡¯s office at work, waiting to be promoted, only to be scolded for some trivial thing and sent to work in my new office cube near the bathroom. I was being screwed over, hard!

    ¡°How the hell do I recover from this? Will I wake up as a ghost and need to find some peace to finally get my next chance?¡± I blurted, trying to calculate my odds of scraping a bittersweet victory out of this.

    ¡°I¡¯m not really sure, to be honest. I don¡¯t usually handle the undead. They¡¯re mostly just growly, gurgly things that shuffle their souls off to the afterlife after they actually die. I mean, usually the soul doesn¡¯t stick around, it kind of fragments and drifts off with all their regrets. But you?¡± G.G. gave a slightly dramatic pause. ¡°You¡¯re special. You¡¯ve got me to thank for that.¡±

    G.G. gave a little bow, as if expecting a round of applause for their heroic act of saving my sorry ass. I crossed my arms, giving them a skeptical look.

    ¡°I mean, I appreciate you keeping all my puzzle pieces together, but I¡¯m still a damn mess,¡± I pointed out, clearly frustrated.

    ¡°Yeah you are. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not perfect in that regard, but I¡¯m trying my best here. I do hope that your next adventure will help you put the pieces together.¡± they replied rather cryptically, as though they did know what was going to happen. Paranoia crept on my mind as I tried to suss out whatever meaning was behind the words before I continued, unable to do so.

    ¡°So, uh¡­ what now?¡± I asked, a little less sure of myself.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be going back, but just like you were born, you may not be as mentally intact as you hoped. You¡¯ll need to pull yourself together out of what will feel normal for you, and find a way to either return to life, or be reborn in the next life.¡±

    ¡°So kind of like when I was a baby. Instead of focusing on shitting diapers, I need to realize that I¡¯m an undead with willpower and break free of their natural instinct.¡± I concluded, catching the gist of what G.G. was laying down.

    They gave a nod, looking pleased that I was finally catching on. ¡°Precisely. Find the loose threads in your limited state, pull them free, unravel the truth, and gain yourself. From there, you¡¯ll need to rebuild your, as you called it, report card for karma.¡±

    ¡°WHAT?! But you said I had full marks!¡± I exclaimed defiantly.

    ¡°Yeah, but things have... changed. A lot. It might not be the world you wanted, but it¡¯s the one you¡¯re stuck with for now.¡± G.G. gave a little shrug. ¡°Do your best, and maybe I can toss you a mulligan next time. Who knows, maybe I can kick out the guy that took your paradise if they act up, and I¡¯ll slot you in instead. That¡¯s only more than fair for what you have to deal with, right?¡±

    G.G. hung the carrot before me with a dozen sticks at the ready to be swung, but I gave up, unable to do much else.

    ¡°Guess it can¡¯t be helped,¡± I said, standing up with as much resolve as I could muster. ¡°Let¡¯s see what kind of hero I can be this time.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ just do your best. That¡¯s all I ever asked for,¡± G.G. said with a smile, standing up themselves and giving me a short wave. ¡°Buh-bye for now, and here¡¯s a little advice: try to resist that promotion your boss will offer. It¡¯ll only make things harder.¡±

    ¡°Wait, you can read minds? What promotion? WHAT BOSS?!¡± I yelled, but G.G. just kept waving, clearly enjoying my confusion as the world around me started to get brighter. Then, just before I could make sense of it all, I slapped my head against the invisible barrier, and my vision blurred to nothing more than a pure mass of white.

 Chapter 4: Quitting My Day Job

    I woke up, same time as usual¡ªyawn, stretch, and ugh. The daily grind calls. My eyes dragged themselves open like they¡¯d been stuffed with cement, but I got up anyway. After a stretch that could¡¯ve cracked the spine of an elephant, I let out a long sigh that made me feel like I was going to go back to bed.

    Ah, the joys of the corporate life. Earnings report day. The day we find out if the company¡¯s going to thrive or go belly-up. I clocked in, already mentally at work before I even set foot out of the breakroom. The morning ritual¡ªone step, then another. Walking: the most mindless task, yet here I am, overqualified for it.

    The hallways were crowded with co-workers in the same sad, over-worn uniforms¡ªcharcoal black, gray, a couple frayed edges here and there. Real fashion-forward stuff, right? Well, at least the health benefits are decent, and I¡¯ve got life insurance in case I drop dead at my desk one of these days. That should at least make sure my lovely wife and kids are set.

    Then there was Janet, hurrying along next to me as always, her slightly off scent wafting in the air. Not sure what was worse¡ªthe fact that she was in such a rush or the fact that she smelled like she¡¯d missed the memo about hygiene today. She glanced sideways, almost like she was hoping I wouldn¡¯t comment on it, and I figured now wasn¡¯t the time to bring it up. We had a job to do, after all. Today was the big day, and it was all hands on deck.

    ¡°Mmmmurrrg.¡± Garret, the giant of a man who was clearly running on fumes and hadn¡¯t even seen his first cup of coffee, grumbled as he ambled up next to me. He was always slow in the mornings¡ªlike a bear with a hangover trying to figure out how to use its legs again. I didn¡¯t mind. He needed to be filled in. On my plan.

    ¡°Alright, Garret. Here¡¯s the deets.¡± I started, giving him a sideways glance. His face was a mess, dark circles under his eyes like he¡¯d been living off caffeine and regret for the last 48 hours. He turned to me slowly, blinking like he had to process my words in real time.

    ¡°The boss is gonna drop the bomb that the quarter¡¯s tanking, and investors are gonna start checking their stocks like a paranoid conspiracy theorist. We were aiming for ten to twelve percent growth, but it¡¯s clear we¡¯ve hit a wall. And I¡¯m betting Jerry¡¯s the one holding the damn thing up.¡±

    Jerry, our lovely supervisor, was a walking disaster. You could ask him to figure out a simple spreadsheet and he¡¯d return with a magic trick or a fart joke. No real progress. No solutions. Just complaints. Watching him wreck our department while we all took the fall was like watching a car crash in slow motion.

    Garret growled in agreement, as if the idea of Jerry failing at basic tasks was the only thing that could ignite any passion in his sleep-deprived brain. Janet gave a nod, and the three of us were locked in¡ªone shared sentiment: Screw Jerry.

    ¡°We go in there, let the big boss give his little spiel, and then¡ªboom¡ªdrop Jerry like a bad habit. We¡¯ll throw him under the bus so hard, the damn muffler¡¯s gonna catch him by the shirt and drag him straight into a pothole. We¡¯ve been busting our asses to hold this department together, and once we get Jerry out of the picture, we¡¯ll have some breathing room.¡±

    Janet was practically giddy at the thought of Jerry finally getting what he deserved. She flashed a grin that was half-predatory, half-vengeful, probably from all the crap he¡¯d put her through. I couldn¡¯t blame her. That walking excuse for a supervisor harassed her more times than she can count, and he was finally gonna get his comeuppance.

    We walked in sync, three disgruntled employees ready to take down the corporate cancer, while the rest of the departments gathered around like a horde of ants at a picnic. Weirdly, there seemed to be more of them today. Had the company been overzealous with the hiring?

    Quaggy, one of the older employees and the main lobby janitor, leaned hard against one of the walls nearby. Poor guy looked like he had a little bit too much of the bottle and the hangover was taking its toll. I hope Jerry doesn¡¯t catch him, that little sniveling rat will scurry to the VP and start commenting about how the whole floor reeks of booze and that Quaggy has been pissing in bottles again. Ugh. Honestly, if Jerry gets his way, I¡¯m not sure who¡¯ll be left to clean up after him.

    As we marched forward, I could feel that familiar knot tightening in my gut. Was it nerves? Excitement? Honestly, it had been a while since I had a real shot at taking my supervisor down a peg, but then again¡­ does Jerry really deserve it? We were both stuck in this sinking ship of a company, and here I was, just looking for a chance to get to the top by throwing him under the bus. Have I really sunk so low that I¡¯m using backstabbing tactics just to fill a seat I¡¯m not even qualified for?

    I had always been the spineless one, and I hated it. I hated that Jerry got the job I wanted and now I was so desperate to take him out. Sure, what he was saying to Janet was wrong, but at least she had the guts to stand up to him. She would talk to him, even if it was just out of sheer spite. As for me? I hadn¡¯t had a real conversation with the guy in ages. He¡¯d just keep ignoring me, passing me over like I wasn¡¯t even there.

    Now, doubt crept in, and I began to second-guess myself as I hovered through a tree. Was this the right move? Would it all backfire on me? Jerry had the ear of half the vice presidents, but the COO was my only ally. Even if I pulled this off, would my peers just use me as a stepping stone for their own department¡¯s gain?

    Wait a second¡­ What the hell is a tree doing in the middle of the hallway? My confusion deepened as I stopped dead in my tracks, furrowing my brows at the strange sight.

    And there it was¡ªa massive oak tree. Its bark twisted and gnarled, roots sagging like they¡¯d been here for ages, and yet, it was as if it had been dropped here by some cosmic joke as though it¡¯s been swaying in this spot in the forest for a very long time¡­ a forest?

    The walls were gone. Replaced by thick, dense trees that stretched high into a sky that didn¡¯t seem quite right¡ªalmost dreamlike. My coworkers, their faces strangely distant and silent, moved in a trance, their footsteps barely making a sound as they wandered through the now-wooded hallway. I couldn¡¯t help but stand there, mesmerized by the unnatural serenity. It was like being trapped in a forest at twilight¡ªcalm, eerie, and vaguely unsettling, as if everything was suspended in time.

    Janet gave me a nudge, her usual concern evident in the way she was trying to steer me forward. That¡¯s right, we had a job to do. Jerry had a lot to answer for, especially after all those reports that mysteriously ended up in the shredder instead of actually being analyzed.

    But then it hit me¡ªthis wasn¡¯t Janet nudging me along. It was her twin brother, Kanet, who looked almost exactly like her, only with a more¡­ scheming edge to him.

    ¡°Oh, uh, sorry, Kanet. Hope you¡¯re doing alright. I didn¡¯t mean to leave you out of today¡¯s planning session,¡± I muttered, caught off guard. Kanet was Jerry¡¯s little mole, always eager to stab his sister in the back for a chance at the position Jerry had dangled in front of him. A position that didn¡¯t even exist, thanks to Jerry axing it for the sake of saving a few bucks for this all-important report. Ugh, what a mess.

    ¡°Blugh, bluh-bluhhhh huh huhhhh.¡± He gurgled, his shadowy figure bouncing too and fro like the mere effort of trying to go in a straight line was excruciatingly painful. This was clearly Jerry¡¯s doing.

    As my allies and hundreds of others packed into the meeting room, which resembled more of a cramped meadow than anything else, I immediately noticed the heated debate taking place at the front. My stomach dropped. There, next to the COO, stood Jerry, looking all smug with his reptilian grin, slithering his snake-like tongue as he whispered sweet nothings in the COO¡¯s ear. The sneaky bastard.

    As Jerry turned towards me from the other end of the crowd of wailing shades, who were pressing against each other like a mob trying to break into a store on Black Friday, I saw his devilish shit eating grin before leering at Janet. Janet wailed in dismay, or at least, she wailed in general. She does a lot of wailing nowadays.

    And there it was. We had lost. The COO had given Jerry approval to marry Janet. The merger was going forward. It was official.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°No way, not on my watch. Take this!¡± I roared, shoving my beleaguered co-workers to the side as I made a mad dash towards Jerry, my fists ready to rain down fury.

    Jerry froze, his smug expression faltering for the first time as I closed in. I wanted him to feel every ounce of the pain he¡¯d caused. Marrying Janet when the company¡¯s future was in shambles? Janet didn¡¯t like it either, I could see her discomfort as Kanet, her deceitful twin brother, patted her shoulder.

    Jerry turned, eyes wide, and tried to make a run for it. He had a decent chance of escaping, especially with the crowd blocking the way, but we both knew it was a losing battle. The guards were slow, and I¡¯d be on him long before they even thought about intervening.

    Jerry found himself backed into a wall, literally and figuratively. He clawed at the glass in front of him, desperate to escape, but it was all in vain. The crowd around him, in their sheer panic, joined in, pounding against the glass as if my murderous intent had infected them all. Each of them, scrambling like rats, tried to break the barrier. It was almost comical¡ªlike a scene from a bad horror film¡ªexcept I wasn¡¯t laughing.

    I finally reached Jerry, who spun around to beg for mercy, but I wasn¡¯t in the mood. I gave him a light tap on the head¡ªno need to make it dramatic¡ªand sent him flying, like a pinball bouncing up into the trees. Jerry, in true cowardly fashion, quit his job in mid-air and headed straight for the upper floor of trees, where the other shades were still helplessly trying to break through the invisible barrier.

    I glanced down at my hand, now barely more than a shadow of its former self, and looked over at the COO. He gave a solemn nod before collapsing to the floor in respect, defeated from his foolish ways.

    ¡°Muuuuuuuuu-reeeeee hurrrrrrrrghh¡­¡± the COO groaned, clearly impressed with my work at rooting out the company¡¯s corruption. His voice was shaky, but there was a strange admiration in it as he muttered, ¡°Take Janet¡¯s hand in marriage and become CEO. You¡¯ve saved us all.¡± Well, that¡¯s what I thought he said. I may have paraphrased a little bit.

    I stared, dumbfounded, at how ridiculously easy this whole interaction had been. I turned to Janet, whose face was hidden in her hands, her eyes glimmering with hope as she looked up at me. Honestly, I was just as shocked as she was.

    What is going on here?

    Why was I, a shade, staring at another shade that looked just like me¡ªmy own doppelg?nger¡ªand about to propose to her? The truth was, I wasn¡¯t even sure what gender a shade was supposed to be. We were like shadowy, ephemeral figures, vaguely humanoid but barely defined.

    ¡°Ugh¡­ this isn¡¯t my job¡­¡± I muttered, my words trailing off into confusion. ¡°This¡­ black mass¡­ trying to escape¡­¡±

    I stretched a hand out toward the ¡°window,¡± which seemed to shimmer and shift into a softly lit section of the woods beyond. But as I reached for it, I realized there was some kind of translucent barrier blocking my way. I¡¯d felt this before. This was the same barrier I encountered when I visited G.G.!

    ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­ trying to escape¡­ but from what, and how long?¡± I sighed, my voice sounding more like a hollow groan.

    ¡°Ugnnnhnnngh?¡± one of the shades nearby responded, a hollow sound¡ªmore of a reflex than an actual answer.

    There it was¡ªthe sensation that moving beyond this barrier was the key to moving on, to escaping. Heaven or whatever was supposed to lie just beyond the veil. These shades were trapped souls, just like me, yearning to find peace. Their struggle felt palpable, like they were lost in a personal hell, unable to escape.

    I, in my eternal cycle of slumbering stupidity, couldn¡¯t fathom any reason why I had felt this urge to move on. Seeing how until a few moments ago I was dreaming of myself working a crappy desk job at a failing company, I didn¡¯t blame them. They too were probably trapped in their own hellish nightmare while trying to rationalize their existence here. I feel like I finally can pull the wool off my eyes.

    I looked at the COO- or rather, the shade that had dropped to try to pass the barrier from underneath and had absolutely no idea who or what I was, and gave a full ninety degree bow. Every movement felt heavy and draining.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry this is sudden, but... I can¡¯t accept your promotion, COO. Nor marry Janet... I quit... effective immediately,¡± I muttered, each word weighing me down like a stone around my neck.

    ¡°Awoooooogh¡­¡± the shade groaned, as though my rejection had struck it deep. Well, guess your company¡¯s going under now.

    No offense, I thought. But your business was shady as hell.

    I turned away from the mass of shades, leaving them to their eternal torment. Their soft, hollow murmurs filled the air, a chorus of lost souls still hanging on to whatever threads of life they had left. As I floated away from the barrier, I tried to ignore the creeping feelings of despair. I wasn¡¯t sure how long I¡¯d been stuck in this weird dream, but every moment here felt like an eternity.

    My body was more than light, it was weightless; as though I was thin black sheets that could fly away to a gust of wind, the cloth wrapped around what remained of my body, which isn¡¯t much at all. My fingers were translucent and cracked with old age, like I had become centuries old overnight. My face, what little I could feel of it, was wrinkly and warped as though the skin was wrapped around a skull as an afterthought.

    At least it''s still attached to my body,  I consoled myself. Having lost so much already, we take small wins in situations like these.

    As for legs? I don¡¯t think I had those. If I did, I decided it was better to not scar my fragile ego even further by hoisting up my robe and taking a peek at whatever little surprises would await me underneath. I can explore what happened to ¡°little Adrian¡± on a different day.

    The path ahead felt clear, and I let myself drift higher, passing through trees and branches as if I was weightless. But as I neared the treetops, a flash of searing pain shot through me. I was blinded by a light so intense it felt like I was being burned alive. In a panic, I dove for cover behind a rock, hoping to regroup and recover from the assault.

    Sunlight. Of course, I couldn¡¯t get too close to it. I was a shade, and daylight was poison.

    I felt my mind warp momentarily as I berated my lack of awareness, and had to take a pause to gather myself. The pain from the sunlight had temporarily instilled a bestial instinct to flee, and during that brief time I had almost lost my mental faculties. I could slip back into the ¡®Employee of the Month¡¯ mentality quickly if I let myself steep too far into danger as I was.

    Alright, I began as I meditated. My name is Adrian, I was a paladin in my former life, and a reincarnated human from Earth that was given a second chance to redeem myself for a better third reincarnation in some sort of well endowed Nirvana. Despite that, I¡¯ve died and remained dead, and now I¡¯m fighting for my lack of life to set myself back on track.

    I have no idea on how to do that.

    Playing my boney excuse of a hand on my chest, I began to grunt the words to the resurrection spell I had learned as a paladin. After several minutes of getting the words out, I realized that not even the slightest shred of holy light gathered in my hands. I sighed, having figured this was the result. I mean, if I could use my holy power, what good would it do on a sorry excuse of an undead like me? Speaking of, it made sense a shade couldn¡¯t use holy power anyhow, and the resurrection spell isn¡¯t exactly meant to be casted on myself. I chuckled with a wheeze, the irony of it.

    I regret all of this. The demon invasion? It¡¯s a hard pill to swallow, but I did what I could. That¡¯s just it though. Could I have trained harder, gotten even more powerful to protect my friends and the kingdom? I had the damn legendary sword, was that not even enough?

    The kingdom is probably conquered, and the king and queen are either slaves or dead now. Even the crowned prince looked like he was a goner, judging by how that commander had rounded back onto me with that smug ass face.

    The princess¡­ ugh. I loved that princess. She made protecting the kingdom worth every sweat and tear I shed trying to work my way up to that fancy hero status, and now she¡¯s probably some piece of meat hanging on a rope, or that stupid commander¡¯s plaything¡­

    It filled me with a crushing despair, knowing that I really screwed up dying at that critical moment. My clenched jaw of rotted teeth probably would have drawn blood if there were any to be spare.

    Before I could howl my displeasure into this empty patch of desolate but otherwise peaceful woods, however, something else beat me to the punch with a bloodcurdling scream.

    ¡°Cool, I can¡¯t even be the one to do all the howling.¡± I muttered as I went floating ahead to see what monster was giving its high pitched death throes. Maybe a banshee, or one of those weird jungle birds.

    Instead, I ran into someone who clearly had it worse than I did.

 Chapter 5: Arachnocide

    I crept toward a small muddy clearing ahead, hearing the unmistakable sound of something big crashing through the underbrush. Branches snapped and twigs snapped like some kind of forest orchestra, except this symphony was tuned to ¡°Oh God, I¡¯m about to be eaten.¡± There was another set of footsteps too, but they weren¡¯t nearly as impressive¡ªmore like the quiet shuffle of someone late for an appointment. But whatever it was that was causing all this noise behind the chase? Yeah, it wasn¡¯t subtle. The thing sounded like a bulldozer plowing through a wet field, every footfall squelching in the mud like it was intentionally trying to ruin the entire landscape for dramatic effect.

    I ducked behind a tree, not exactly eager to become someone¡¯s dinner on the first day of me kind of getting my act together. Though, if I¡¯m being real with myself, I was intangible. Could something even eat me? I mean, seriously, what are they gonna do, nibble on some leftover shade? I doubt I¡¯d even offer a decent snack. I¡¯m probably more like a diet soda¡ªno calories, just disappointment. Still, who knows? Maybe there¡¯s some weird-ass creature out here with a taste for ghost juice.

    The brush cracking and rustling got louder, and I could hear short, frantic gasps, like someone was really struggling to keep their pace. As I wondered what kind of crazy person would be running through the woods like an animal on the run, she burst through the bushes¡ªonly to catch her foot on a root and faceplant into the mud.

    She was hauling ass up until that point, and with the momentum of her fall, she slid a good few meters right toward me.

    ¡°BLEGH!¡± She gagged, spitting out dirt and muck like it was some sort of unholy smoothie.

    She wasn¡¯t entirely human¡ªat least, not in any way I could wrap my head around. Her figure carried the familiar grace of a woman (minus the elegance, considering her faceplant), but everything else about her screamed otherworldly. Her skin shimmered in a strange, mesmerizing blend of midnight gray and vivid magenta, like spilled ink bleeding into the hues of a dying sunset. Her face, strikingly deep lavender, tapered into the softer gray that cloaked her body like a natural gradient. Along her cheeks, six sharp claw-like markings of darker purple curved outward¡ªthree on each side¡ªforming patterns that felt like they were hiding something beneath, like eyes waiting to open.

    Her ears, long and tapering into delicate points, bore a series of piercings that jingled faintly when she moved, each piece catching the light in a faint, metallic glimmer. Crimson-red hair cascaded down her back in waves, a vivid contrast to her shadowy complexion, falling all the way to the ground, tangling in the muck she stood in without a care.

    Her eyes, though¡ªthey were her most striking feature. Bright, golden yellow with sharp, slitted pupils, they burned with an intensity that wasn¡¯t quite anger, nor sorrow¡ªit was something feral. Something dangerous. They wouldn¡¯t just look at you; they pinned you down, like a predator studying its prey.

    As she struggled to get up, her clawed toes poked out from under her torn black silk robes. The poor thing was a mess, her dress barely more than ragged strips after that long chase, but I could still see the blood-red trim poking through the dirt. For a second there, she almost looked like a damsel in distress¡ªat least, if you ignored the spider legs flailing around and the fact she just ate shit in front of me. My "hero instincts" kicked in for about half a second, but then I realized I was a floating ghost with the strength of passing gas. So, you know... not much I could do.

    It was the extra limbs that made me really stop, though. Two spider-like legs were sticking out from underneath her, and another set was flailing around from her back as she struggled to get to her feet. One of her human legs¡ªif you could even call them that¡ªwas twisted at a weird angle, and another of her spider limbs was clearly broken. She couldn¡¯t move much anymore, just flopping around in the mud like a fish out of water. Not exactly the escape artist she might¡¯ve been earlier.

    A soft, slithering voice broke the tension, smooth and menacing: ¡°Theeeeeeere you are.¡± Two figures emerged from the bushes, moving with unnatural speed.

    I froze. These weren¡¯t just any soldiers. Their lower halves were like serpents¡ªlong, sinuous bodies covered in sleek cobra scales that glinted in the dim light. Their movements were fluid, inhumanly graceful, as they surrounded the woman, spears held low but ready to strike. Wait a minute. Naga? Seriously? This world just keeps getting weirder.

    Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯d faced monsters before in my previous life¡ªhell, I¡¯d killed an owlbear with nothing but my sword and guts. But a whole race of sentient, humanoid demons that wasn¡¯t those ogers or harpies? Now that¡¯s a first. The spider-woman was already enough of a mind trip, but now we¡¯ve got naga crawling out of the woodwork like they¡¯re the latest expansion for some MMO. Great, what¡¯s next? A griffon tax collector?

    As the woman screamed at them, I snapped out of my daze, refocusing on the scene. I couldn''t move, but I couldn¡¯t look away either.

    ¡°Leave me ek¨¡, you overgrown boa!¡± she yelled, spitting the words at the naga. ¡°You traitorous snakes! Hunting me like a dog! Your scales wouldn¡¯t be worth the trouble to skin!¡±

    "Tuhn bhavaha," one of the naga ordered, his voice dripping with venom. "The Captain will be here to deal with you."

    "No! I will not tolerate this betrayal!" the woman screeched, her voice cracking as she swatted at the spears. But no matter how hard she fought, her efforts were futile.

    The sound of heavy footsteps finally reached me, and when I saw the source of the ¡®bulldozer¡¯ that was crunching through the trees, I nearly swore in disbelief.

    It wasn''t the demon commander. It was worse. A smaller, but no less dangerous cousin about a fifth of his size. His lion-like body was still massive, but his snout, now clear without the helmet, was smushed in, with two lower fangs jutting out like the teeth of some grotesque beast. His eyes, sickly green and filled with self-assurance, glinted like acid.

    He wore an incredibly luxurious set of golden armor that, when caught in the occasional ray of sun, dazzled in such a way that I could barely stand to look at its magnificence. It nearly triggered my weakness to the sunlight!

    It was clearly for show, seeing how the gold I knew was much too malleable for actual combat, but this guy looked like he was just as likely to pose for you at an anime convention as he would to kill you. The fact that he looked just as intimidating as he was gaudy was a feat in and of itself, but hey, if the guy had the goods, might as well flaunt it, right?

    The Captain scowled as he trudged through the mud, his steps leaving deep imprints in the ground. But when he finally got to his destination at the woman¡¯s side, he looked down at her with such a bemused expression it made me want to vomit. A makeshift baseball bat, almost a miniature version like that of his larger commander lookalike, laid tapping at his boot as he clicked his tongue in unbridled joy. I understood how her legs were broken now.

    "Oh, little spider, scurrying away," the Captain mocked, his voice dripping with derision. "Spiders don''t run; they stalk, they hunt. Do you know nothing about your own kind?" He looked around, scanning the area like he expected an ambush, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. I ducked instinctively when his gaze flickered my way. "Where are your webs? Even a few pairs of boots might¡¯ve helped you avoid this predicament."

    He raised his bat to her chin with deliberate slowness, the motion almost theatrical, before she swatted it away with defiance.

    "Get away from me, you overgrown flea bag!" she spat, her voice hoarse with fury.

    "Tsk," he tutted, his grin widening. "Is that truly your last words, princess? Really? A little insult about hygiene before your end?" His voice oozed mockery, but then, with a swift movement, his head snapped toward one of his naga guards. His stare was equal parts insecure and intense, like a predator locking onto prey. "Guard! Do I have fleas?"

    The naga guard visibly flinched, as if the bat might be swung at him next. His voice quivered as he stammered, "N-no captain, spotlesssss of them. Not a single fleck since we found the lasssss. Well groomed, you are."

    The Captain chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. It was as if the naga¡¯s words were the gospel truth that destroyed the foundation of the spider princess¡¯s insult.. "Hm-hm! There you have it, little princess. Six weeks of grooming, and it''s paid off in dividends!"

    Ichni¡­ Princess? The realization hit me like a hammer. A spider princess? What kind of twisted world was this? A princess in these woods? An arachnid monarchy¡ªwas that even a thing here?

    As I tried to process the bizarre hierarchy of this place, the naga seized the moment to flatter the Captain, his voice oily with false praise. "Impeccable fur, Captain."

    WHAP! The bat cracked against the naga''s chest with such speed and precision that I barely saw the attack. One moment, the bat was hanging casually by the Captain''s side, and the next, it buried itself deep into the naga''s breastplate as if it had always belonged there. The naga''s eyes bulged in shock, his forked tongue whipping out like a wounded animal''s last gasp. He groaned, his voice a low, almost mechanical sound¡ªsomething akin to a tire deflating.

    "HHNNNNNNNNNNGSSSSS..."

    "Shut the hell up, you dull-scaled imbecile," the Captain growled, as he lowered his bat, clearly annoyed. "I''m trying to have a nefarious monologue here before I kill the girl."

    The naga guard was about to apologize, but when he saw the knuckles on the bat begin to tense, proceeded to become completely mute as tears ran down his now pallid face.

    Ichni, still covered in the dirt and blood of her recent fall, began threatening him weakly, her voice thick with defiance. "You can''t lay a claw on me! Father will skin you alive and use your pelt as a rug for his chamber pots if he hears of this!"

    The Captain paused, the weight of Ichni¡¯s words hanging in the air, but then he burst into laughter, a rumbling belly laugh that seemed to shake the very forest around us. The sound echoed through the clearing, and even the naga guards, clearly uncomfortable, felt compelled to join in. They hesitated at first, but once the first "ha" escaped their lips, they all found themselves trying to laugh along, though the humor was forced and hollow.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    No sooner than the first chuckle left their mouths, the Captain¡¯s mood shifted instantly. He shot them a deathly glower, and they both stopped, mouths snapping shut so quickly one of their tongues was still hanging out.

    The Captain turned back to Ichni, who made a futile attempt to move away, but the injuries to her legs kept her firmly in place. He raised his bat again, twisting his body dramatically as he gave his chin a thoughtful scratch.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m afraid the orders are from His Majesty,¡± he said, his voice taking on a darker, more sinister tone. As he looked up, one of his eyes creepily turned down towards her, with that twisted smile spreading across his face. ¡°A shame, really. The crown princess... meeting her end like this, a pig in the mud. It can''t be helped. Orders are orders.¡±

    The fanged smile on his face had grown ear to ear, an unsettlingly cold smile that made Ichni¡¯s fear radiate even more. ¡°You¡¯d better start begging, or I¡¯ll savor this moment even more. You wouldn¡¯t want me to take my time with it, would you?"

    ¡°Not¡­ on my watch¡­¡±

    I tried to sound like some kind of dramatic savior, but as soon as the moaning words left my mouth, I realized I probably sounded about as threatening as a wet paper towel. Still, the naga turned to look at me, wide-eyed and wary. I floated forward from the shadows, trying my damnedest to exude the presence of a killer. What could I do¡ªsuck his soul out? Tear his skin off, one piece at a time? The look of disbelief on the Captain¡¯s face was almost comical. Ichni looked at me, her eyes filled with her own bewilderment at her would-be savior.

    "What... the..." she stammered, and the Captain mirrored her confusion.

    He took a step back, eyes narrowing, as he prepared for a fight, his bat raised, though he was clearly unsure of how to deal with my ghostly ass. I floated between him and the princess, my body barely more than a transparent shadow. Raising one of my limp, half-formed limbs in his direction, I tried to sound as heroic as possible¡ªthough I doubted it was working.

    ¡°You... stand... in the face... of justice..." I forced out, my voice barely carrying, but damn if I wasn¡¯t trying to sound badass.

    I wasn¡¯t sure if my ghostly, half-formed presence was really intimidating the lion-oger, but the naga looked downright panicked. The eerie silence of the forest, the dead monsters scattered about, probably made my appearance feel like a bad omen. Ichni, though, saw the Captain¡¯s confused look and seemed to find some hope in my little shadowy performance as she pumped her arms in to cheer me on.

    ¡°Yeah, you get him! This dumbass ogre-cat was about to turn me into lotion before you showed up!¡± she cheered, way too confident for my liking. ¡°You better run, Onshi! These things can devour your shadow and curse you to burst into flames the moment the sun touches you!¡±

    Her voice was loud, almost mocking, as she continued her monologue, completely oblivious to my own hesitation. ¡°See that ugly, menacing look on his face?¡±

    Ugly? Why is she attacking me in her speech?

    ¡°That¡¯s called the ¡®wretched death stare¡¯¡ªyou stare into their eyes long enough, and you¡¯ll see your own death flash before you! Drop dead on the spot! Oh, what a bhayan way to go. Honestly, I was hoping to see you beg for mercy, but now? I think I¡¯ll pass. I don¡¯t feel like listening to you cry. Just drop your bat and die right here and now like the piece of garbage you are!¡±

    ¡°You¡­ but that can¡¯t be right¡­¡± the Captain muttered incredulously.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ right¡­ now, here¡­ I come¡­!¡± I growled, focusing all the energy I could muster into my right arm as I began to rev up an ol¡¯ shady haymaker, and the princess laughed in delight as I made the killing blow.

    I threw the punch of justice!

    My arm went right through his chest in one clear shot. At first, I thought the attack was so decisively powerful that I blew a hole right through his heart, but when I retracted my arm I saw that I had literally gone right through him. He looked down after a slight shiver, and then back up at me.

    ¡°Huh,¡± he said, blinking, a little surprised. ¡°Well¡­ that wasn¡¯t supposed to happen.¡±

    Everything went dark for a split second, and I felt like I¡¯d been hit by a gust of wind that just passed right through me. When the world returned to focus, I saw the Captain¡¯s bat at the finish of a swing. The Captain had attempted to counter my lifeless blow, only to flub his own attack as well. My vision blurred a few more times from more swings.

    The Captain¡¯s face twisted into an expression of pure annoyance, his golden armor catching the light in a sickly way as his patience wore thin. I could feel his growing frustration like a physical pressure.

    ¡°Hey¡­ stop that¡­¡± I said warningly as I floated back, planning my next move in this life-or-death struggle.

    The princess, to her credit, was still shocked in amazement that my moment of heroism- and her chance of survival- had gone up in smoke just as quickly as it appeared. Her cheers had gone from exuberant to gobsmacked in mere seconds.

    Mr. Bigshot Pussy Cat clicked his tongue in frustration, clearly trying to piece together how I, a half-baked shade, was still hanging around to annoy him. After a moment, he sighed in exasperation and gave up.

    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t this just fantastic,¡± he muttered with a scowl. ¡°I was looking forward to at least a decent scrap, but now you¡¯re just some poor excuse for a ghost. A spirit, really. A half-assed wraith at best.¡± He seemed almost proud of himself for coming up with that last jab.

    ¡°A¡­ shade,¡± I muttered, the words barely escaping as I corrected him.

    The Captain sneered. ¡°A shade,¡± he repeated, almost uninterested. ¡°Well, whatever you are, go haunt a stump or whatever the fuck ghosts do these days.¡± His tone was dismissive, as though I was nothing more than a passing annoyance.

    The naga, the one who hadn¡¯t been knocked senseless by the Captain¡¯s bat, spoke up with a dry, almost sarcastic tone. ¡°Guard the haunted windmill, I do believe, Captain.¡± He had wisely kept his distance, avoiding the earlier swing that had knocked the wind out of his comrade.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± the Captain mused aloud, as though considering the suggestion. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s about right. Scarin¡¯ Karyn¡¯s old spot. Go make your little ¡®woo¡¯ sounds at the old windmill, spiritual shit-stain. Maybe you¡¯ll find some ¡®boo-ze¡¯ to drown your pathetic self in.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Good one, Captain!¡± the other naga chimed in, clearly trying to gain favor, but the disdainful glare the Captain shot his way told him this was no time for the guard¡¯s own jokes. The naga seemed to shrink back in an instant.

    ¡°I. Know. Shut. Up.¡± The Captain¡¯s voice dropped to a menacing growl as he turned his attention back to Ichni. His heavy, muddy steps echoed with a grim finality as he stalked toward her.

    Ichni¡¯s once-colorful face was drained, her fear evident as she curled into herself. The Captain loomed over her, lifting his club, and the air seemed to thicken.

    ¡°Aham i¡¯ma santesessmi, Ichni,¡± he cooed softly, his voice sickly sweet and unsettling. I had no clue what he meant, or what language it was, but the expression on his face made it clear: he was savoring every moment of this garish farewell.

    Ichni¡¯s eyes widened in terror as she realized what was coming next. She stammered, a desperate plea escaping her lips, her back lowering into the mud. ¡°D-Don¡¯t come any closer, or I¡¯ll scream!¡± she feebly remarked as the hulking mass of gold and fur loomed over her.

    The Captain dropped in one menacing motion as he hunched over to press his face near hers. ¡°Oh, really, princess?¡± His grin grew wider, predatory, as he inched closer. ¡°Do you promise that? Will you scream your little heart out as I make you regret it? Tear your voice apart to rancid ribbons while I bludgeon you to death?¡±

    His words were low, dripping with sadistic amusement. Ichni¡¯s body trembled beneath his gaze, but she still tried to hold her ground, even if it was only in defiance. The tension in the air was suffocating.

    Ichni¡¯s face drained further, and her frantic eyes darted around, looking for any escape. But the grim reality was clear¡ªthere was nowhere to run. Her shoulders slumped, and she finally broke, her voice trembling.

    ¡°P-p-please, stop¡­ you don¡¯t have to do this...¡±

    Her words were a desperate plea, barely audible against the thudding of her own heartbeat in her ears.

    ¡°You¡¯ve finally done what I asked!¡± the Captain sneered, straightening up with unsettling satisfaction. ¡°Years and years, refusing my requests and favors, and it¡¯s in your final moment that you acquiesce. Ah, I apologize for interrupting. By all accounts, continue begging for your pitiful life, for I need to enjoy this momentous occasion!¡±

    His eyes gleamed with a sick, bloodshot intensity¡ªhe was savoring the moment like a hawk with prey trapped in its talons. Pure malice seeped from his very pores, radiating from every movement she made in response.

    Ichni, desperate, shook her head, her hands trembling as she reached for his boots, trying to shove him away. But her efforts were futile. He pressed down with his foot, his weight crushing her chest as she coughed up blood, staining her lips.

    ¡°Please¡­ stop¡­¡± Her voice was weak, but it carried the raw fear of her life slipping through her fingers.

    The look in the Captain¡¯s eyes was bloodshot and darkened, as though this exact moment was something he had only hoped for in his dreams. His smile, almost deranged at this point, was evidence enough that he took every pleasure in what he was about to do.

    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ do this¡­!¡± I began to beg myself, to no avail.

    ¡°The princess, begging for mercy as I crush her under my boot,¡± the Captain murmured, delighting in the thought. ¡°This will be a story worth telling at the hearth. Farewell, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Merdu!¡± the princess spat back defiantly, but it only made her look more pathetic, her face covered in snot, blood, and tears¡ªlike a child unable to cope with her fate. She weakly raised her arms to block the first swing, screaming at her attacker as he cackled at his prey.  ¡°No, please! NOOOOO-!¡±

    The sound of the strike was deafening and unmistakable.

    WHAM.

    I stood there, frozen in shock. I was the hero. I was supposed to save people like her.

    WHAM.

    Blood sprayed through the air, a twisted fountain of crimson that danced in slow motion before falling back to earth. My gaze was frozen, unable to look away, as I watched the execution unfold, powerless to stop it.

    WHAM. WHAM. WHAM.

    The air around me thickened with the grotesque sound of bone meeting metal, the rhythm of each brutal strike overwhelming any attempt at clarity. Minutes felt like seconds as the screams and shrieks turned to wet gurgles, and then, mercifully, there was nothing. The last echoes of agony died with the sickening squelch of the Captain¡¯s club crushing through flesh.

    I hovered, my spirit trapped in a fog of numbness, unable to feel anything but the emptiness. A part of me wished for an escape, for death to take me and end this suffering. But the silence that followed was my undoing. My mind began to fade, thoughts slipping away like sand in the wind. The world grew distant, muffled. Everything¡­ slowed.

    And just like that, I became nothing.  I¡­ was nothing.

    And strangely, that was okay.

 Chapter 6: Given Purpose

    I¡¯ll be honest, I don¡¯t know how much time has passed. I don¡¯t know when the monsters had left, nor when the forest got dark. I must have stood stock still for hours before the flicker of ¡°life¡± returned to my cold, undead eyes.

    I sank lower, hovering just above the mud, as I took in my surroundings. The forest, as quiet as a graveyard, seemed trapped in time. Not even a hollow wind stirred the branches of the mourning trees. The stench of blood and decay clung to the air like a second skin, mixing with the earthy scent of damp soil.

    Then I saw her. What was left of Ichni¡ªthe poor, desecrated princess. Red strands of her hair lay tangled in the muck, flickering with faint, ember-like light. The glow, the last whispers of her essence, danced away into the void. It wasn¡¯t right. The forest denied death itself, trapping her soul here. She¡¯d never move on.

    And neither would I. After realizing just how powerless I was, I felt vulnerable, ashamed.

    ¡°This¡­ isn¡¯t how stories are supposed to go,¡± I muttered, staring at her remains. The flickering lights dimmed further. I wanted to vomit, but my undead body had nothing left to give. ¡°Why did she have to die? Why were there demons¡ªturning on each other, no less?¡± My voice cracked as I struggled to comprehend it.

    I clenched my fists, trying to summon tears that wouldn¡¯t come.

    I felt empty to my core. ¡°She asked for my help,¡± I whispered.

    That thought burned, blistering my hollow chest with a sensation I both understood and welcomed: hatred. Rage. It settled in like an unwelcome old friend you grudgingly saved a seat for by the fire. Why did it matter that she died? She was a demon, after all. I¡¯d slain more than my fair share of her kind.

    ¡°What¡¯s one more to the pile?¡± The words felt hollow, my usual self-soothing bravado falling flat. Guilt pressed down on my shoulders like sandbags, dragging me into the mud. I felt revolted by my own words, knowing that she clearly had a heart. She felt emotions, a whole slew of them in fact. Discarding my own trying to justify her death meant surrendering my own humanity, and I couldn¡¯t do it.

    I was supposed to be a hero. The hero. I¡¯d sacrificed everything to become a Paladin. I was supposed to protect the innocent and strike down monsters like that Lion-Ogre. Instead, I¡¯d failed¡ªagain.

    I don¡¯t care why I had initially claimed the role. I understood that I was once a scumbag that didn¡¯t deserve redemption, and yet I took the opportunity in earnest and lived a life I never thought possible. I was pragmatic in my new approach with how to live my modest, fruitful life to its fullest, yet here I stood, with no practiced teaching to lean on, no scripture to explain why I or this princess must suffer such a cruel fate. I felt the frustration come to a boiling point, and succumbing to its spiteful allure, I exploded.

    ¡°I NEED ANSWERS!¡± The roar tore out of me before I could stop it, raw and desperate. Shadows danced around me as my voice trembled through the stillness, shaking the immovable.

    I wasn¡¯t supposed to be some backwater shade. My eyes turned to the sky, searching for the faint stars peeking through the branches. I looked for answers that would never come.

    ¡°Great light!¡± I called out, voice cracking. I could hear the pain in each word that passed my lips . ¡°Where is my afterlife? I served you faithfully, protecting the kingdom and upholding your will. And this is my reward? Eternity in this cursed place?¡±

    Desperation clawed at my voice. I was actually praying for divine intervention¡ª something considered insanity in my first life, and heresy in my second. But what did I have to lose? If the teachings were the fruit of humility, then let the sin be the pie of accomplishments I present in sheer mania.

    ¡°I rebuilt your shrine! I opened a gift shop with tacky trinkets in your name! I founded an orphanage for cats¡ªcats, for crying out loud! Do you know how many litter boxes I had to clean every day? TWELVE!¡± My voice broke into a frustrated sob. ¡°I faithfully changed their litter because you love cats!¡±

    I slumped over, my boneless body buckling in defeat. My words were swallowed by the empty embrace of the forest. I felt my words dampened as if being eaten by the woods themselves. No soul would hear me here. Not even a treant would stir to my call. There was nothing, as before.

    Several minutes passed as I looked into the glowing red dust of the princess, as though her body was my own last campfire to rest at. Once she¡¯s gone, only darkness will remain. I kept going in dismay.

    ¡°Please,¡± I murmured, voice cracking. ¡°I¡¯m lost. Blind to my path. I¡¯m begging you¡­ show me the way.¡±

    No answer came.

    This was it, I guess. Sorry, G.G., I know I was supposed to do something, but in the first critical turnpoint, I had already screwed up somehow. I know I should press onward, use this as an experience to bolster my resolve, but this¡­ this was too much for someone like me.

    ¡°I guess everything is lost, then. My time is up,¡± I sniffed bitterly. ¡°Who would have thought that I would be the one to fade into obscurity? All these years, and it¡¯s now I¡¯ve finally fallen.¡±

    Ichni¡¯s soul flickered, coalescing into a tiny orb of red light. I stared at it, mesmerized. It was different from the golden, radiant souls I¡¯d known, but unmistakably a soul nonetheless. She may have been a demon, but if she had a soul, she had been a person. A chance for redemption.

    As the light fluttered uneasily against my face, I realized that chance was slipping away.

    ¡°I guess your time has come, too,¡± I sighed with a resigned smile, as though I was welcoming an old friend to the other side.

    ¡°All our times have come, faithful Paladin,¡± a voice breathed in my ear, soft as the brush of a ghost¡¯s hand.

    My mind ran taut, the words leaving me tingling¡ªa sensation I hadn¡¯t felt since my death.

    My neck twisted and turned as the world of blacks and grays, once held at bay by the soft red glow of Ichni¡¯s soul, were suddenly illuminated with a myriad of colors. Radiant orbs of light descended, joining Ichni¡¯s fading aura. There were four of them: a burning red, a soft white, a flowing blue, and an earthen tan. They danced around me playfully, their faint radiance casting eerie shadows against the trees.

    ¡°What¡­? There are more lost souls here?¡± I wondered aloud. For a brief moment, I thought they might have been descendants of Ichni, come to collect her for the afterlife.

    The orbs positioned themselves in a semicircle opposite Ichni¡¯s remains, as though a jury to judge their demon peer. One pulsed brightly, and a voice rang out, deep and resonant.

    ¡°They were here once, but they have gone,¡± declared the red orb, its tone that of a young man, reverent as a sage.

    ¡°Who¡¯s gone, great lights of the woods?¡± I inquired cautiously. This is the first time I¡¯ve actually encountered what felt like divine creatures of the light, not unlike the elemental behemoths that roamed and rested back in the day. While my sight suggested they were powerful souls, their presence betrayed a much deeper sensation.

    ¡°The Gods, the seasons, even the reaper,¡± the grey orb replied. Its voice was older, gruff but kind, like a weathered elder. ¡°This realm has been abandoned. The winds are stale. The sun hides staggered behind a perpetual veil. Rain falls as tears for the state of the world. But do not despair¡ªI live on. We live on.¡±

    So they were ancient spirits. I realized with a jolt that I was in the face- or rather, faces- of something far older, far greater, than myself. These are beings whose teachings I once strived to serve, their presence meant to shroud my mantle. I didn¡¯t know if they were gods or simply remnants of a greater divine purpose, but I trembled in my fragile state as I felt their omnipotent gaze on me.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for my state, great spirits. I know my appearance is¡­ lacking,¡± I confessed gingerly, gesturing to my lackluster spectral form. "but I was once a noble Paladin that carried the holy light, and wielded the legendary shard of divinity, Chandrabolg.¡±

    ¡°We know, Paladin.¡± chimed the blue orb, its voice motherly and soothing. ¡°We were not fooled by the veil of your unfortunate circumstances. What we do not know is why you are here, now of all times.¡±

    ¡°I was hoping you could tell me,¡± I admitted, grasping at straws. ¡°Where am I?¡±

    The tan orb brightened slightly. ¡°You stand in the Forest of Passing, where the living come to die and the dead come to linger. Your soul sought passage, but something binds you here. Tell us, loyal knight¡ªdo you know what holds you back?¡± Not quite like the other three that felt warm and welcoming, this one carried an air of authority, as though once a ruler. Still, the stern tone wasn¡¯t derisive or condescending, but that of a firm and fair king.

    The Forest of Passing. Fitting name for a place like this. A sick twist of fate that Ichni had ended up here, of all places. Too bad she hadn¡¯t stumbled into the Meadows of Refuge. Or, hell, even the Swamps of Secret Hiding Holes would¡¯ve been better.

    The light was right, though. G.G. said so all the same, and I felt the invisible wall myself. Nothing here seemed to be able to pass on, and I unfortunately fit the category of ¡°nothing¡±. Whatever answer the tan light was looking for, I unfortunately didn¡¯t have it, otherwise I wouldn¡¯t be in this mess.

    ¡°I suppose I couldn¡¯t move on,¡± I guessed with a heavy sigh. ¡°Something kept me here. Maybe guilt. Maybe unfinished business. I have plenty of it, to be frank.¡±

    The orbs hovered in contemplative silence. I shifted uneasily under their scrutiny.

    ¡°Well, that explains my situation,¡± I added, trying to change the topic to a burning question I had. ¡°Forgive me for my impertinence, but what about you four? What are you doing here?¡±

    They began to circle me again, their movements slow and deliberate. A soft, harmonious melody rose from their glowing forms, an invitation to cosmic wonder that left my mind with something close to nostalgia. They spoke in alternating sentences this time.

    ¡°We are the Four Lights of Nevermore,¡± the red orb said. ¡°The last remnants of hope in this dying world, courtesy of a dastardly abomination. We have searched for someone like you.¡±

    ¡°Someone like me?¡± I echoed, skeptical. ¡°No offense, but you¡¯re scraping the bottom of the barrel here. Being a hero might be on my resume, but I¡¯ve since been, uh, ¡®relieved of duty¡¯.¡±

    The blue orb chimed in gently. ¡°You underestimate yourself, faithful one. But your doubt is understandable. You have been through much.¡±

    Her words stung more than I cared to admit. I had spent decades of my life in service, only to be prompted by a humiliating execution and subsequent defeat of everything I held dear. Saying I went through the ringer was an understatement by this point.

    I folded my malformed arms, trying to regain some semblance of composure. ¡°Alright, fine. If you¡¯re the last hope for this world, what was your plan until I came into the picture?¡± I asked with a barrage of questions soon following. ¡±Who is this spider princess and why did she have to die? ¡­ Ichni, that was her name.¡±

    Another pause came as they considered everything I asked. I wasn¡¯t expecting divine enlightenment, nice as that would be, but if I could just peek behind the curtain of whatever hell this world is in, that would be a good start.

    The tan orb¡¯s voice grew grave. ¡°The spider demon was, in fact, of royal heritage. The Demon King¡¯s lineage runs shallow, yet she was among his heirs. Despite her promising fate, her life was severed too soon, by treachery even we did not foresee.¡±

    Well, holy shit, a Demon King? Forget that commander, there¡¯s a king now? I got knocked down more pegs than I can count by one of these kind¡¯s minions, and now I¡¯m knee deep in a kingdom full of these monsters? Well, at least they can¡¯t hurt me in my sorry state for now. Not unless there¡¯s demon Paladins too.

    ¡°Our presences have long since dwindled as the Demon King rattled our chains binding him.¡± The elderly grey one added. ¡°Just as we imprison him in his lair, we too are prisoners in our own shrines. While we may seem here, our true selves languish in the depths of our corrupted halls.¡±

    ¡°So there¡¯s a freaking Demon King, and you¡¯re binding him with your sacred power.¡± I concluded.

    ¡°We are.¡± One acknowledged.

    I looked incredulously at the princess¡¯s corpse. ¡°And this is one of his children?¡± I asked in disgust.

    ¡°She was.¡± Another agreed.

    I instinctively tried to spit on her, but obviously with the lack of saliva¨C and most of my mouth for that matter¨C it was mostly a rude gesture in spirit; forgive the pun.

    They patiently waited when I eventually mouthed, ¡°Patooie!¡±

    Taking some time to mourn some of the guilt I gave to the spider like it came with an expiration date, I turned back to them. ¡°So you¡¯re all the divine light left in this world, and this thing¡¯s father is what haunts his land. That¡¯s not good.¡± I muttered, trying to summarize their point.

    ¡°It is as you say. Bound from our shrines, we hold him captive in his lair so his wrath cannot invade what is left of his sanctum, but it is not enough. We need you, Paladin. We need hope.¡±

    I stared at my ethereal hands, my tattered form, and gave a dry laugh. ¡°You¡¯re in for a disappointment. Look at me¡ªI¡¯m some wretched spirit cast in the aftermath of a lost war. A Nothing-Class reject. What could I possibly do?¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The white light and red light lit up, as though consulting each other with their musical pings. After a moment. The red scholarly voice spoke up. ¡°One step forward at a time. We offer you an accord.¡±

    ¡°Like the car?¡± I quipped automatically.

    ¡°...W-what?¡± The white orb sounded genuinely baffled.

    ¡°Oh, uh, it¡¯s, uh¡­¡± I stammered, realizing my mistake. I began stumbling in my words as I had instinctively joked about something that I had zero chance of explaining the reference. ¡°A type of wagon. Sturdy. Fits four horses. Never mind.¡±

    The orbs chimed together in what I could only assume was divine exasperation. ¡°We offer you a divine contract,¡± the red orb clarified. ¡°We want you to swear loyalty to us as the source of your holy power, and in return we will grant you a spark of life¡ªand the strength to fight. Only then can you find a chance for salvation.¡±

    Oooooh. Like a ¡°kiss the ring, and we¡¯ll help you out¡± kind of situation. I looked around embarrassed, as if the luminous spirit just asked me out. It¡¯s my sacred oath, my absolute swearing to protect your tenets and vows. They want to overwrite my old ones, which is, as the holy knights would say, treacherous heresy. They might as well be asking me to commit religious adultery!

    ¡°Well, you see, I did one of those already when I was a wee lad.¡± I said with a sheepish grin, tapping my pointer fingers together.

    ¡°Yes, and?¡± the tan orb pressed impatiently.

    ¡°Well, heh heh, if I just make a divine contract with anyone, especially four of you at once, people will think I¡¯m a, and forgive the insult, a cleric or something. I¡¯d be embarrassed in the streets.¡± I professed in a bit of sympathetic shrug, as if trying to shoot down a divine orgy.

    There was a pause, with the four of them completely disarmed from my response. Silence followed¡ªa thick, judgmental silence that gathered like dust on the conversation.

    After a few moments they began to ping to each other in some kind of sacred group huddle. I tried to listen in to get bits of words between the symphony of chiming sounds.

    ¡°This one is an imbecile.¡±

    ¡°We sure we want to entrust him with our fate?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since the last one.¡±

    ¡°We could keep waiting. He¡¯ll just mess things up.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s just embarrassed of being sacredly slut-shamed.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. He¡¯s weird, and he smells.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just the corpse.¡±

    I slumped over as the last of the petty criticism was still beating my ego up. ¡°Sacred Four-Lights, I can hear you.¡±

    The blue orb floated closer, its motherly tone attempting to soothe. ¡°Oh, honey, you¡¯re seriously afraid of being called a holy harlot? This is the fate of the world we¡¯re talking about. New realm, new you, you know? Prithee a soul will know the difference.¡±

    ¡°Honey?¡± I muttered internally. That¡¯s no innocent divine being¡ªthat¡¯s a car salesperson trying to close a deal!

    Still, it was clear they needed me, just as much as I needed them. Maybe more. If they were trying this hard, I might as well see how far I could push things.

    ¡°I¡­ I guess,¡± I said slowly, feigning hesitation. ¡°But do I get a weapon? Maybe a new sword?¡±

    Thoughts of dreamily holding another equivalent of Chandrabolg danced in my head as I asked. Fairies gave King Arthur his sword or something, surely these super divine, all powerful spirits can conjure something up?

    The orbs pulsed in what I could only assume was another group huddle. After a brief, musical discussion, the tan orb replied, ¡°No. We don¡¯t give swords. That¡¯s a myth.¡±

    I sighed, then remembered I can¡¯t sigh. Gods, just give me lungs!

    ¡°Okay¡­ armor, maybe?¡± I ventured, testing the waters further.

    More chiming. The red scholar''s voice finally responded. ¡°... We can do armor. We need to tie you back to the mortal realm anyhow, so you can obtain our essence in full.¡±

    I grinned and went to do a fist pump, and the motion took several seconds as my arm thrusted like I was pulling it out of molasses. Still, this was shaping up better than expected. A revival and armor? That''s a win in my house!

    ¡°Alright, I want golden armor like that ugly bastard did, the ogre cat guy.¡± I pressed my side of the bargain. ¡°But with more gold and silver if you can do it. Trim it however you like, as long as it looks cool as hell. And a cape!¡±

    The tan orb sighed deeply, like a dad shutting down a ridiculous Christmas list. ¡°We have golden armor at home.¡± His voice came like he was making a decree. ¡°We can¡¯t whip up fancy custom-order sets just because you¡¯re asking for it, so please make do with what we have for now. Perhaps once you free us, we can, as the mortals say, ¡®hook a brother up¡¯.¡±

    Fair enough. I nodded with acceptance. I mean, he¡¯s right. It sounds like they¡¯re using most of their power trying to keep the Demon King at bay, so asking for a resurrection AND legendary platemail isn¡¯t really a fair deal. They help me out, then I help them out, and THEN I get the sweet golden breastplate, like an unlockable post-game accessory.

    Still, the thought of fighting without a weapon made me uneasy. I¡¯d have to rely on my fists¡ªlefty and righty¡ªuntil I found something more practical. Not like I actually expected to march straight to this Demon King guy and challenge him to a wrestling match, but it would be nice to have some sort of way of getting the jump on him.

    Maybe a tour guide, or an ally, or¡­ a very scorned demon princess that was just betrayed by him. My face lurched into a leer as I rubbed my chin, as though I just stumbled upon the Holy Grail of plot devices. Sure, we¡¯re naturally repulsive to each other, and she¡¯s probably not going to be chummy with the shade that failed to save her, but, what¡¯s the harm?

    My gaze shifted to Ichni¡¯s remains, an idea sparking in my mind.

    ¡°And,¡± I said, voice firm, ¡°I want you to save the princess.¡±

    ¡°...What?¡± All four orbs stopped circling and rotated to face Ichni¡¯s lifeless form. Even her tiny remaining soul seemed to twitch, as though hearing the request herself.

    ¡°The crimson spirit. Ichni. She is the princess, right? If anyone knows what¡¯s going on around here, it¡¯d be her,¡± I reasoned.

    The blue orb gasped in shock, like I had swore in church. The red orb floated forward, its scholarly tone incredulous. ¡°She¡¯s a literal demon. A black widow with royal blood. You know how demons work, right?¡± he asked as though I wasn¡¯t quite sure what the difference between a demon and an unbroken house pet was.

    ¡°I know,¡± I said, meeting their glow with determination. ¡°It¡¯s a risk, but she asked for help. If she can assist me somehow in fighting this demon king, what¡¯s the harm?¡±

    ¡°She can kill you.¡± the red orb pointed out calmly.

    ¡°I¡¯m half-dead already!¡± I retorted, barely able to contain a laugh.

    Yet another group huddle of mild jabs and uncertainty began, and it looked like they were evenly split with the idea of resurrecting one of their sworn enemies. I crossed my arms as though this would be a deal-breaker for me otherwise, though if they refused I wasn¡¯t about to pass up the offer.

    ¡°Please.¡± I added, with sincerity in the word.

    Finally, the blue orb floated forward, its motherly tone returning. ¡°I, we¡­ we¡¯ll bind her spirit to you, as it¡¯s literally against the contracts to bring a demon back to life. Best we can do.¡± We both waited for the other to continue, but I kept silent, so she went on. ¡°After you save us and if she helps to defeat the Demon King, we¡¯ll bring her fully to life if that¡¯s still in the cards.¡°

    I paused, pretending to think for a moment, and then nodded enthusiastically. ¡°I suppose it can¡¯t be helped, then. I won¡¯t beg for any more, I would be the fool to do so otherwise.¡±

    ¡°We pray you trying to save a demon isn¡¯t foolish enough¡­¡± said the brown regal light.

    The four orbs floated a short distance away, their lights dimming as they prepared. I could hear the general vibe, but otherwise it sounded like they were trying to hype each up for some kind of miracle to occur. After some laughs and whoops, their voices blended into a harmonious chant, each note resonating with power. The melody was almost comforting¡ªuntil the chanting paused, and they turned to me.

    ¡°Repeat after us, redeeming Paladin,¡± the red orb instructed. ¡°These words will bind you to our holy service and restore your spark of life.¡±

    I took the position of a person ready to be knighted by royalty, although not really being able to kneel, or touch the ground for that matter, made the posture a little silly looking.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m ready.¡± I murmured, my head nodded in reverent tranquility. Last time I did this, the whole process took a whopping two hours, and my knees nearly gave out on me. I¡¯m almost certain I had entered some sort of trance trying to spout whatever religious mind washing drivel they had me chant back then.

    For a chance for life again, however, I¡¯d recite the whole set of holy scriptures backwards while on my head if that¡¯s what it took.

    ¡°¡®I, Adrian Legend, vow to serve the Four Lights of Nevermore,¡¯¡± the red orb intoned.

    ¡°I, Adrian Legend, vow to serve the Four Lights of Nevermore,¡± I repeated idly. That¡¯s weird, I never told them my name, but I suppose it¡¯s not unreasonable to assume they knew all about me with their divine presence.

    Before I could ponder it further, pain exploded through my form.

    The pain was like nothing I¡¯d ever felt¡ªnot even when the Demon Commander¡¯s club had shattered my ribs. This was different. It was raw, primal, as though my very essence was being torn apart and stitched back together by unseen hands. I doubled over, my shadowy form writhing as runes of blinding light carved into me, burning with every twist and turn.

    I collapsed into the mud, my limbs trembling, and felt something strange¡ªsomething physical¡ªcoating my body. It was thick, like molten wax, seeping over me in waves. As it hardened, it pulled at my form, reshaping it. My fingers twitched, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt weight. Real, tangible weight.

    The transformation wasn¡¯t graceful. My once nonexistent bones cracked and snapped into place, as if the very foundation of my being was being rebuilt piece by piece. I gasped, feeling a tightness in my chest. It took me a moment to realize what it was: air. I was breathing. My lungs, neglected for so long, struggled with each rasping inhale, and the air felt stale, like breathing in a dank basement. It didn¡¯t matter, the sensation was intoxicating. I clutched at my chest, marveling at the dull thud of a heartbeat¡ªweak, erratic, but there.

    My other hand pressed into the muck, fingers sinking into the cold, wet earth. It was disgusting, but I didn¡¯t care. I could feel it. I could feel everything. The chill of the air on my skin, the weight of my body, the ache in my muscles¡ªall of it was overwhelming and glorious at the same time.

    I staggered to my feet, my legs shaking like they were barely mine. The armor clinging to my frame didn¡¯t help¡ªrusted, ill-fitting, and riddled with holes, it looked like it had been pulled from a battlefield centuries ago. My arms were exposed, revealing skin that was pale and thin, almost translucent. I stared at my hands, the veins beneath the surface faint but visible. They looked¡­ human. Sickly and fragile, but undeniably human.

    Then there was the gem. My gaze fell on the gauntlet encasing my left hand, its craftsmanship ancient but sturdy. Set into the back of it was a red gem, slanted like the eye of an ancient demon. It gleamed with an unsettling light, and as I turned my hand, it almost seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat. Definitely not the holy relic I¡¯d envisioned, but beggars can¡¯t be choosers.

    I stumbled forward, every step an awkward negotiation with my new body. My knees buckled, and I caught myself against a tree. The bark scraped my arms, sending a jolt of pain through my body, and I winced.

    Pain. I¡¯d forgotten what it felt like. The sting of it was almost comforting.

    I leaned against the tree, taking deep, shaky breaths. The air was stale and damp, but it was air, and I reveled in the sensation. My senses were dulled, my body frail, but I was alive¡ªor something close to it. I wasn¡¯t nothing anymore.

    Looking down at my reflection in a pool of muddy water, I saw a shadow of who I once was. My face, gaunt and pale, bore the marks of my ordeal. My hair, once golden and vibrant, hung in ashen strands around my face. But my eyes¡ªmy eyes burned with a faint light, a spark of life that hadn¡¯t been there before. Now golden yellow, like that of the princess, I knew there was something unnatural about my state, but I didn¡¯t mind.

    For the first time since my death, I smiled. It was small, faint, but real.

    ¡°There¡­ the spark of life has been given,¡± one of the Four-Lights murmured. Their once-vibrant hues now flickered weakly, dimmed by the effort.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said, genuine gratitude coloring my voice. I turned to Ichni¡¯s soul, still flickering faintly. ¡°And the princess?¡±

    The grey orb floated to her remains. With a gentle nudge, her essence flew in a ray of light into the larger gauntlet. The demon¡¯s eye, once dormant, now shown with a gleaming and dangerous light. So that¡¯s what it was for, I thought.

    ¡°She is bound to you now,¡± the orb explained. ¡°She will slowly revitalize through you, but her state will reflect yours, great hero. Our contract has been completed.¡±

    I studied the gem, rotating my hand to catch its glow. Ichni¡¯s presence was faint, but it was there. She needed time to adjust to her new ¡°home.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve done excellent work, my sacred companions.¡± I said, turning back to the Four-Lights with a firm nod. ¡°This will be the foundation of a new story.¡±

    The orbs began to fade, their lights scattering like embers in the wind. ¡°Seek us, oh faithful one.¡± they said in unison, their voices echoing as they weakened. ¡°Aratan Villa will be your first step. Arm yourself, then find us at the four corners of this realm. We await you at the shrines we are imprisoned in¡­ free us from our chains¡­¡±

    Aratan Villa, is that a nearby town? I don¡¯t know which way is out of these gloomy woods, but I suppose I could try to ask Ichni before I wandered aimlessly.

    The rest of their words were a bit garbled in the exposition, though. I was supposed to stop the Demon King, right? Or was I supposed to hit up these prison-shrines and free them first? What about the money for travel?

    As they faded out of sight, their last words echoed through the silence. ¡°May the divine lights guide your path, now gather your strength and wisdom to vanquish the evils that lurk, and uphold the justice of the world¡­¡±

    I had more questions, to be sure, but I suppose I could wait until I found one of them at a shrine.

    Like, first off, chains, for realsies? They were freaking gods! Chains aren¡¯t going to bind divine beings of light, and even if they could, how was I supposed to break something of that caliber?

    As the darkness of night lifted like the curse of death had retreated, I looked around as the soft glow illuminated the forest. I felt a brush of sunlight touch my cheek, and to my relief only felt its warmth. I smiled at this acknowledgement. I wasn¡¯t nothing anymore.

    Spotting the path of broken wood and vines, I realized that I could follow the path that giant furry menace had so kindly laid out for me. As for any threats that lie lurking beyond, I was at an extreme disadvantage with no weapon in hand. I¡¯d have to rely on my own survival instincts in the meantime until I found a safe place to take shelter.

    With the first steps of a plan in hand, I began to make my way forward to what I hoped was the way out of these god awful woods before I realized I needed to check a couple more things. I dropped my trousers, scratched some itches that plagued me, and then took the most animated piss I could imagine. Everything was there and in good working order as I sighed from the primal relief. What a time to be alive.

    Then I shrunk away from the sight of the princess¡¯s mutilated corpse as I realized I was practically adding to her desecration. Oops.

    I spent the first hour of my new life burying the remains of the demon girl I failed to save, as well as the secret of my second tragic mistake.

 Chapter 7: Pleased To Meet Me

    So look, I learned something valuable as I made my way through the forest. It turns out, I am woefully ill equipped to navigate heavily wooden territories by my lonesome. Who would have thought? In my first life, we had GPS and exit signs. Even during my travels as a Paladin there were still roads, where paths and wooden signs pointed me in a direction. It just feels like even in caveman days, there would be an arrow carved in the wall with a big X, and you understood that going that way wouldn¡¯t lead to fire exit.

    But then these damned woods. During the forest expeditions, we had skilled trackers and rangers. I never had to decide if a mushroom was poisonous or not, because we were immune to poison! That berry bush over there? Now it could be my next lunch or my last, who knows. I didn¡¯t, and because I felt like death warmed over, I knew my first mistake would be my final. It was gonna be meat, something I knew, or bust. I figured if I stumble across some eggs I can relieve the mother of some of her runtier brats.

    Still, I trudged on. I followed the carnage left by the Lion-Oger, somehow got lost at a river crossing, walked in a big circle, and then managed to fall back into the river again. After I cursed my inability to understand what a mossy stone should point me to, I caught a fish that looked like it was already a fin in Davy Jones''s locker and bit into it like I was a rabid bear. This was my first meal after coming back to life, some expired convenient store sashimi. This is my life now.

    Hours passed before I stumbled onto a miracle: an actual dirt path. I fell to my knees and kissed the ground where I stood. I wasn¡¯t completely lost anymore¡ªjust regular lost.

    Seeing that the dirt path ran east and west, and east led back towards the ¡°greener pastures for old cows¡± neck of the woods, I ventured to the west, assuming this my best chance to civilized life.

    That¡¯s when I heard a weird humming sound. I flinched, glancing around to see if it was time to climb a tree and hide. Then I noticed the gem on my gauntlet. It was pulsing with light.

    ¡°Oh, great,¡± I muttered, holding the glove up like it might offer an explanation.

    The light grew brighter, and then a wisp of smoke began pouring out of the gem like a burning meal from the oven. My first thought? Crap. The princess. It had to be her. My second thought? I¡¯m so screwed trying to explain this to her.

    As the smoke billowed and grew, taking on a vaguely humanoid shape, I prepared a speech¡ªsomething persuasive, non-threatening, and deeply apologetic. We were mortal enemies, after all. Once she realized I¡¯d bound her as a sort of spirit-guide-slash-prisoner, she wasn¡¯t going to be thrilled about pleasantries.

    When she finally materialized, though, my jaw practically unhinged.

    It was her, alright. But not quite. The imposing demon princess I¡¯d seen before was gone. In her place was a miniature, ghostly figure¡ªbarely a meter tall, like a chibi version of herself. Her crimson locks, once wild and fiery from her chase, now flowed neatly like strands of spider silk down her back. A silver pendant rested on her forehead, styled after a cartoonish spider¡¯s head. The spider legs that once towered behind her were now spindly, scaled-down appendages poking out from behind her hair. From this perspective, she looked like some twisted version of a certain face-hugging alien!

    She wasn¡¯t wearing much¡ªbeing a spirit seemed to smooth over those details¡ªbut her physique had been stripped to its bare essentials. Her magenta face curved down to a charcoal-black torso, which faded into a wispy tail that flicked like a restless candle flame. Her arms ended in clawed hands, and tiny spikes jutted from her forearms. She looked like someone had hit the reset button on her character model.

    As she gathered her bearings, placing a hand to her forehead, she muttered in a soft, elegant voice, ¡°Dada ayu¡­ this headache is bhayan. Why does my head feel like a spent pi?ata? What happened¡­?¡±

    I was sitting cross legged on the ground at this point, deciding it was better not to loom over her like her previous assailant. ¡°Hey, you. You¡¯re finally awake. Tried to cross the forest to get out of here, huh?¡±

    She stiffened, as though I had petrified her, and turned to face me. I had put on my kindest smile, a slight dabble of my goofy grin, and gave her a warm wave.

    Her eyes went wide as saucers, and then she screamed.

    ¡°WYEGHHH! Get away from me, monster!¡± she shrieked.

    Monster? Me?! She should¡¯ve looked in a mirror!

    She dropped to the ground, scrambling backward like I¡¯d pulled a weapon on her. Then she spotted her tail. Her expression twisted from shock to rage as she took a quick inventory of her chibi-like form, and then glared at me balefully, like I had personally tampered with her character creation screen myself.

    ¡°Why am I a shrimp?! Wait¡ªam I a ghost?!¡± She quivered, realization dawning. ¡°I¡¯m a ghost! Why¡¯d you kill me?! I didn¡¯t do anything!¡±

    She glared at me, teeth bared and eyes blazing, then turned on her heel¡ªwell, her tail¡ªand bolted before I could even process the accusation.

    She was having a full-on panic attack now, like I was her killer. Why was I  the bad guy here? I¡¯m the one that saved¨C well, half saved and half captured¨C her!

    ¡°Hey, wait!¡± I called after her, but she wasn¡¯t listening. Her ghostly tail whipped behind her as she gained speed, floating just above the ground. She darted away with a speed that caught me completely off guard, her tail flicking behind her like a whip. For someone who¡¯d just woken up in a ghostly body, she moved alarmingly fast.

    Then it happened.

    The gem on my gauntlet began to tug. It was subtle at first, like an itch in the back of my hand. But as Ichni got further away, the pull grew stronger, and her tail stretched unnaturally behind her, like a rope tied to a stubborn kite. She floated on for a few more meters before the tension reached its limit, and with a comical TWANG, she ricocheted back toward me like a bungee cord snapping loose.

    ¡°Wha¡ª?¡± was all she managed before she slammed into the dirt face-first.

    I couldn¡¯t help it¡ªI laughed. Loudly. ¡°Oh, that was beautiful,¡± I guffawed, clapping my hands. ¡°Ten out of ten. Stuck the landing perfectly.¡±

    She lay there for a moment, her arms sprawled out, a groan of utter despair muffled by the ground. Then, slowly, she pushed herself up, dirt clinging to her magenta skin. Her eyes burned with humiliation and fury as she turned to me. She had the word murder written all over her face. It was like seeing a kitten ready to give its first hiss.

    ¡°You think this is funny, you bastard?!¡± she snarled, jabbing a clawed finger in my direction.

    ¡°Extremely,¡± I said without missing a beat. ¡°You¡¯re like a possessed yo-yo.¡±

    She lunged at me, fists raised, but stopped just short, apparently realizing she couldn¡¯t touch me. Instead, she stomped on the ground¡ªor, well, tried to. Her ghostly form barely made a dent in the dirt, though her tail flicked furiously behind her like an angry cat.

    ¡°What is this?!¡± she demanded, throwing her hands up in frustration. ¡°You trapped me, didn¡¯t you?! You think this is some kind of sick joke?! What kind of perverted fantasy are you living, you ghost-freak?!¡±

    ¡°Whoa, whoa, hold on!¡± I said, raising my hands defensively. ¡°I didn¡¯t trap you! This wasn¡¯t my idea! The Four-Lights bound you to me¡ªit¡¯s their magic, not mine!¡±

    ¡°Liar!¡± she spat, literally, and a sticky glob of residue smacked me square in the cheek. I stiffened, blinking in disbelief.

    ¡°Did you just¡ª¡± I started, but before I could finish, she spun around and tried running again. The result was the same: her tail stretched behind her, the gem tugged back, and she went flying once more, landing in the dirt with an indignant shriek.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°Oh, for crying out loud,¡± I muttered, wiping her spit off my face. As I did so, my hand immediately glued itself to my cheek, and I struggled to unhand myself. ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere, Princess. You might as well get used to it.¡±

    She scrambled back upright and this time crouched into a fighting stance, her small hands raised like claws. Her teeth bared in a snarl, and two prominent fangs gleamed menacingly. Her spindly legs twitched as if preparing to pounce, though she seemed unsure how effective a ghostly leap would actually be. My alien reference felt more prominent than ever.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think for a second that I¡¯m helpless!¡± she hissed. ¡°I might be dead, but I can still kick your ass if I have to!¡±

    I tilted my head, bemused. ¡°Really? You¡¯re gonna fight me? You can barely keep yourself from bouncing back like a rubber ball.¡±

    Her glare intensified. ¡°Who do you think you are, capturing a beautiful princess maiden like myself? Binding me to your will, making me do anything you want! You and those dopey, perverted eyes. Are you one of those¡­ those ghost-fucker types?!¡± Her voice cracked with outrage as she jabbed an accusatory claw in my direction.

    I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. ¡°Listen, Princess, I don¡¯t have the time or energy to unpack whatever weird conclusions you¡¯ve jumped to. No, I¡¯m not a ¡®ghost-freak.¡¯ No, this isn¡¯t my fantasy. And no, I don¡¯t have some creepy interest in¡­ whatever archetype you¡¯re slotted in.¡±

    Switching to damage control mode, I tried to jog her memory. ¡°I tried to save you from that Lion-Ogre guy. Remember? I was that shade.¡±

    Her panic morphed into disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re that loser? The one who tried to fight Captain Onshi and got wrecked?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to put it like that,¡± I murmured, wincing. ¡°I did my best, you know¡­¡±

    As the realization sank in, her expression darkened. ¡°And after that, he¡­ he¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said quietly, guilt pressing on my chest.

    I braced myself for the tears, expecting a distraught princess in need of comforting. As I just recently had struggled with my own sense of powerlessness, I understood what she was feeling.

    Instead, she turned to a tree and began pounding on it with her fists like it would serve as one of Captain Onshi¡¯s lookalikes.

    ¡°You! Hairy! Pathetic! Excuse! Of! A! Captain!¡± she bellowed, each word punctuated by a furious punch. Though her transparent fists sank through the bark, the tree shuddered, and leaves rained down from its branches.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill that n¨¡ga jivh¨¡ worm!¡± she bellowed. ¡°I¡¯ll rip his tongue out and feed it to the dogs!¡±

    I balked. I thought I had the bad taste in my mouth with those guys, but she¡¯s on a whole other level!

    ¡°Look,¡± I said cautiously. ¡°I did what I could to save both of us. This isn¡¯t ideal, but it¡¯s better than being stuck as shades forever.¡±

    She whipped her head toward me, her glare sharp enough to cut steel. ¡°Better? I¡¯m a floating, flat-chested spider-loli thing now! I was a babe! I had a rack that could hold a family¡¯s winter coats! I held the gaze of every hopeful courtier in the kingdom, and now I look like I just got my first one-piece swimsuit!¡±

    I blinked, unsure how to respond to that. She kept going, her voice rising in indignation.

    ¡°Plus, I¡¯m dead. No food, no sweets, not even a bottle of wine to drown my sorrows in because it¡¯ll go straight through me! This is the worst!¡±

    A strange order of things to lament on, but I wasn¡¯t about to question her priority. She looked at me with an intense gaze, before seemingly remembering I wasn¡¯t the one who murdered her again.

    She plopped down on a stump, crossing her arms and pouting. As she fidgeted with a fallen leaf, it drifted through her hand like she wasn¡¯t even there. She let out a frustrated huff, glaring at the ground.

    I watched her silently, unsure if I should say anything. Despite her bratty attitude, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of pity. She wasn¡¯t just angry¡ªshe was grieving. She¡¯d lost her life, her power, her sense of self. And now she was stuck with me, of all people.

    My thoughts drifted back to what she¡¯d said about revenge. For me, killing someone evil usually ended the conflict. It was simple, efficient. But for her? Revenge was a layered art form, meticulously planned and viciously executed. I shivered, glad her rage wasn¡¯t currently directed at me.

    ¡°Look,¡± I tried again, ¡°I know this sucks, but we don¡¯t have a choice. I need your help.¡±

    She gave me an appraising look, then scoffed. ¡°Clearly. You don¡¯t even have a sword, and your armor looks like a trash can.¡±

    I gritted my teeth but pressed on. ¡°Can you help me find Aratan Villa? Someone told me I should head there to get equipped.¡±

    She pointed down in the direction of the path I was heading, as though I should be ashamed I didn¡¯t know already. ¡°It¡¯s literally walking that way. You¡¯d have to be blind to miss it.¡±

    ¡°Well, then.¡± My jaw tightened as I used every ounce to not berate the girl. ¡°Thanks. We¡¯ll be heading that way, then. My name is Adrian, by the way.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask,¡± she replied curtly, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

    I¡¯m going to exorcise this bitch with my bare hands, I growled in the back of my head as I felt my eyes ready to pop out of their sockets. Being angry is one thing, but this selfish, arrogant brat is going to make me wish I left her as a nightlight in the forest behind us!

    She leaned back on the stump, her spider-like legs waving idly. Her crimson hair caught the light filtering through the trees, giving her an almost regal look despite her sulking. I couldn¡¯t help but notice her earrings, which somehow remained intact and glistened as she tilted her head to the sky.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t fair,¡± she moaned. ¡°I was dead, now half-dead, and stuck in a gauntlet like it¡¯s a lamp for some joke of a genie princess. Oh devils, how am I going to explain this to my father? He¡¯s going to be so pissed. And now I¡¯m some hand-me-down glove for this chump. Sniff!¡± She began tearing up as she realized her life was practically ruined.

    I blinked. ¡°Hate to break it to you, but your father¡¯s the one who sent Captain Onshi to kill you, remember? This is probably second-best to whatever he had planned.¡±

    Her head snapped toward me, eyes blazing with anger. ¡°Don¡¯t be a prick about it, Adrian! I know!¡± Then, without warning, her face crumpled, and she started wailing.

    ¡°Weh! Wehhehehehhhh~!¡± she sobbed, ghostly tears and snot streaming down her face. It was gross as hell. I awkwardly shuffled a step back, unsure if I should try to console her or just let her get it out of her system.

    After a minute of ear-piercing lamentations, she finally wiped her face and sniffled. ¡°Oh, screw this. Maybe this is a dream. A perfectly nasty nightmare. Maybe I ate some bad pudding, and this is food poisoning.¡±

    ¡°You were beaten to death,¡± I pointed out, deadpan.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s just wonderful,¡± she muttered. ¡°Now I¡¯m stuck with a dim-witted detective who can¡¯t read the room.¡± She gave me a pointed glare. ¡°Let me guess: I¡¯m bound to you for all eternity and have to do whatever you say, right?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes and no,¡± I tried to reason, realizing that my side of the conversation was going nowhere, fast. ¡°There are conditions.¡±

    Her face held an empty, resigned look as her eyes bored into me, void of any desire to move this talk even further. The fire that had been building up in her earlier had since become as much smoke as her body could muster, and heaved a miserable sigh. ¡°I¡¯m tired. Jailer, take me away.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not your jailer, and I don¡¯t know where you should go,¡± I replied, feeling a twinge of annoyance. ¡°If I start walking, I might just drag you in the dirt behind me.¡± I warned apprehensively. ¡°Did you want me to carry you or something?¡±

    Her nose scrunched up in disgust. ¡°Ew. Never in a million years. You¡¯d stink me up.¡± She floated off the stump and toward the gauntlet, her tail flicking irritably. ¡°Just watch out for hoplops on your way to town. They¡¯re horrific monsters that¡¯ll eat you alive if they get the chance.¡±

    My stomach dropped. ¡°Good god, what the hell is a hoplop?¡±

    Was it some sort of agile demon that jumped at you and chopped your head off? The name alone couldn¡¯t begin to prepare you for dealing with the foe.

    She shrugged dismissively, completely unbothered. ¡°Just keep walking. You¡¯ll see them. I¡¯m not a walking encyclopedia, Mr. Trash Can.¡±

    I bit back a retort as she smirked and began dissolving into smoke, retreating into the gem. I was ready to slap this unruly princess. ¡°Enjoy your stay in your new bedroom, Princess,¡± I called after her, sarcasm dripping from my tone. ¡°Try not to mind the smell.¡± She rolled her eyes as her figure began to clear into smoke to enter the glove once more.

    Her voice echoed faintly as she disappeared. ¡°Those scary bastards¡­ and I thought Onshi was frightening.¡±

    I paused. ¡°Wait, what? The hoplops are that bad?!¡± But only a small squeak of surprise that I heard her was all that was left before I was left to my own devices once more.

    Great. Now I had to worry about some nightmare creatures, and my only companion was a snarky demon ghost who hated my guts.

    With a deep, steadying breath, I started walking. One foot in front of the other, I told myself. If I kept moving, I might make it to Aratan Villa before nightfall¡ªor before one of these hoplops decided I¡¯d make a good snack.

 Chapter 8: War Of Nutrition

    As I finally stumbled near the edge of the woods an hour later, the scenery shifted so abruptly it felt like walking into another world. The suffocating green of the forest gave way to a bleak, barren wasteland. When I was near the invisible wall that trapped the shades, the woods were lively, albeit in a creepy, plastic plant sort of way. The further I went, the more welcoming nature had become.

    Here near the edge of the woods, though, skeletal trees loomed like ancient sentinels, their twisted branches lifeless and brittle, as though something had wrung every last drop of vitality from them. It was like trading a taxidermy of trees to flat out dead ones¡ªa cruel joke of nature. A bit of a paradox, I thought, considering that stepping from death seemed to not indicate the lush delicacies of life.

    But beyond the withered treeline, the bleakness melted into something softer. Rolling meadows stretched far into the horizon, dotted with lonely trees that swayed gently in the breeze. The grass sparkled like waves on an emerald sea, and tiny creatures darted in the distance. It looked peaceful, almost inviting¡ªif I ignored the pit in my stomach reminding me how vulnerable it all felt.

    Just before the forest spat me out into open land, I noticed something out of place¡ªa wooden bench, perfectly pristine, surrounded by patches of vibrant wildflowers. It was almost too perfect. Suspicious, even. My nerves, still frayed from the forest, had me scanning the area for traps or ambushes. Nothing. Just the bench. If this was a divine prank, it was a strangely considerate one.

    Shrugging off my paranoia, I gave in to exhaustion and slumped onto the seat. The moment I sat down, the world seemed to hold its breath. My aches dulled, my worries faded, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself relax. I hadn¡¯t realized how much I needed the break until I was in the middle of taking it. It felt as though just for the moment, all of my burdens and worries came off my back to take a seat by my boots.

    My gaze drifted to the gauntlet on my arm. The gem embedded in it glowed faintly red, pulsing in a rhythm that felt disturbingly alive¡ªlike a heartbeat. Was it mine, or hers? Ichni had gone quiet, retreating into her soul prison without so much as another snarky comment. Maybe she was sulking. Maybe she was just tired. Either way, the silence was starting to itch.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I muttered, tilting the gauntlet toward me. The gem flickered in response¡ªor maybe I just imagined it. Either way, I decided to push forward.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking,¡± I started, my voice quieter than I expected. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t ask for this, and I didn¡¯t exactly give you a choice. Dragging you back like this... it wasn¡¯t fair.¡±

    No response. Just the gentle sigh of the breeze brushing past me. For a moment, I thought I felt a chill on my shoulder, but I shook it off as my imagination.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what comes next,¡± I admitted, letting out a long breath. ¡°But I¡¯ll figure it out. The Four-Lights said I need to find their shrines¡ªor whatever they are. That¡¯s step one.¡±

    Sluggishly, as though the glove had been held to a candle, it began to smolder as smoke came out from under the gem. It spiraled lazily upward, then thickened and condensed, drifting like mist before finally taking shape. Ichni emerged, perched dejectedly on the backrest of the bench. She looked smaller than before, her usually sharp demeanor dulled by fatigue. But her expression? Oh, that still carried every ounce of her usual bite.

    ¡°Those are where Father¡¯s chains are,¡± she said, crossing her arms with a bitter look. ¡°Do you seriously plan on freeing that fu¡¯rorem psychopath?¡±

    ¡°Fu¡¯rorem?¡± I echoed, the unfamiliar word tripping off my tongue.

    ¡°It¡¯s demonic for, uh¡­ ¡®crazy.¡¯¡± She sighed and rolled her eyes. ¡°Sorry, it slips out when I¡¯m angry. Or, honestly, whenever I feel like it.¡± She flicked her hand dismissively, but the edge in her tone didn¡¯t soften.

    I bit back the urge to point out that calling someone a ¡®crazy psychopath¡¯ was as redundant as calling water ¡®wet.¡¯ She was actually talking to me, and for now, that felt like enough of a win.

    ¡°Well, freeing him doesn¡¯t exactly sound like the best idea,¡± I admitted, scratching the back of my head. ¡°But I¡¯ve got to break those chains to free the light spirits trapped there. That¡¯s the real goal.¡±

    In my head, the plan seemed straightforward: kick down the door to some creepy stone fortress, pummel a few monsters, rip a massive chain off some iron-encased box, and let one of those glowing little spirits float free. Simple enough.

    Ichni let out a snicker that grew into full-blown laughter. She leaned back, smirking as she bent her ghostly tail in. ¡°You¡¯re not actually that stupid, are you? Serious question. I haven¡¯t figured it out yet.¡±

    I felt the effort of restraint in my chest as I bit back my first response. ¡°What?¡± was all I managed to sputter, sweat beading on my brow.

    ¡°No one¡¯s even come close to scratching Father¡¯s bindings,¡± she said matter-of-factly. ¡°Never in a hundred years!¡±

    ¡°Has anyone tried?¡± I asked, half out of curiosity, half just to keep her talking.

    Ichni¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Oh, sure. Captain Princess-Killer gave it a shot once. You saw how he can swing that club. Dude is nothing but muscles under that lump of fur and gold. But when he yanked on those chains with all his might, his face went purple and... well, let¡¯s just say he hit the brown note.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what?¡± I choked out.

    ¡°He crapped himself!¡± she clarified with no shame, laughing as she recalled the memory. ¡°Full-on shit his drawers. He even murdered the guards afterward so no one would find out.¡±

    The mental image hit me like a ton of bricks. A towering, battle-hardened Lion-Oger straining against a chain, face red as a tomato, only to soil himself and desperately try to cover it up. I burst out laughing with her. I suppose he and I had one thing in common, considering my untimely demise.

    ¡°Right? Devils, that was a fantastic day,¡± she said, her voice unusually chipper, a trace of a smile lingering on her dark magenta lips.

    ¡°So... if he killed all the guards,¡± I asked, narrowing my eyes, ¡°how do you know what happened?¡±

    ¡°Psh, easy! I hid in a bush!¡± she declared, puffing out her chest like it was some grand accomplishment.

    ¡°You¡­ hid in a bush,¡± I echoed, my voice dripping with skepticism.

    ¡°Yup!¡± She folded her arms smugly. ¡°Hiding from Onshi was the one thing I excelled at. Well, was. Those naga trackers were faster than I had time to make a hideout.¡±

    Her expression shifted, the lightness fading as the memory seemed to drag her into a somber silence. I felt the air grow heavy between us, but before I could say anything, she broke it.

    ¡°So... why do you want to free those light spirits?¡± she asked suddenly, her tone tinged with genuine curiosity.

    ¡°¡°Well, they¡¯re, uh...¡± I trailed off, frowning. In hindsight, I still wasn¡¯t sure if they were really here. Maybe those lights I actually saw were just echoes¡ªextensions of their true selves. More questions I couldn¡¯t answer, which was becoming a frustrating trend.

    ¡°They saved me,¡± I finally said, choosing my words carefully. ¡°Stopped you from disappearing, too. They recognized me as a Paladin and told me I was supposed to save them in order to save the world. That¡¯s the gist.¡±

    Ichni froze mid-perch, her casual pose shifting as she turned to look at me¡ªreally look at me. Her lips thinned, scanning me from head to toe like I¡¯d just declared myself the biggest deal there is.

    ¡°You,¡± she said flatly, ¡°a Paladin?¡±

    Ah, there it was. I¡¯d known this moment would come eventually. While I wasn¡¯t thrilled at the idea of her learning my less-than-rosy history of fighting her kind, she deserved to know the truth. After all, she was stuck with me.

    Her expression grew doubtful however as she managed to conclude something else entirely.

    ¡°Yeah, couldn¡¯t you figure?¡± I mused, spreading my arms in my own mock grandeur. In fairness, she had a point¡ªI looked more like a washed-up bandit than any champion of light.

    She squinted, then started gesturing to different parts of my body, as if dissecting me with her eyes. Her finger stopped at my battered armor, then my gauntlet, then my messy hair. The look on her face was the kind reserved for someone unraveling an obvious lie.

    ¡°But where are the horse-blood markings? The skull shoulder pads? You don¡¯t look like a Paladin at all!¡± she challenged heatedly.

    I blinked, completely caught off guard. ¡°I... horse blood? Skull shoulder pads?¡± I stammered, scrambling to process her words. ¡°I think we¡¯re picturing two very different things here.¡±

    ¡°Orrr,¡± she said, drawing out the word with a smug grin, ¡°you just don¡¯t actually know what a Paladin is. Try again, trash-can knight! If you apologize for lying to me right now, I might even forgive you!¡±

    ¡°I am a Paladin.¡± I drawled, trying to make my point plain and clear.

    ¡°And I¡¯m the Demon King!¡± She sassed with a cocky wink. ¡°I got a pretty good idea on what kind of vibe a Paladin gives, and you? You just don¡¯t fit that bill, y¡¯know?¡±

    I slouched under her gaze, feeling the weight of her words settle like a lead cloak. Maybe she wasn¡¯t wrong¡ªnot entirely, anyway. Looking at the state I was in, ¡°Paladin¡± felt like a generous label.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m not anymore,¡± I admitted gloomily. ¡°I was a Paladin. I know that much. But fine, maybe I¡¯m not up to scruff anymore in this crap world!¡± I hesitated, swallowing the bitterness of the truth. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just the ghoul with broken dreams.¡±

    Ichni let out a dramatic groan, cutting off any chance of wallowing. ¡°Ugh, dada ayu¡­¡± she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°Don¡¯t start getting all mopey on me now. You¡¯re just... weird, okay? There¡¯s a lot of weird stuff happening right now.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me,¡± I agreed as I leaned back, leaning back into the bench. At least that¡¯s something we can¡¯t argue. This whole damn thing is weird.

    If this was my old-old world, I would have taken a long hit on a cigarette.

    ¡°I really am some kind of half-dead revenant on a holy fetch quest on a completely different playing field now.¡± I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.

    ¡°And I¡¯m a fully dead ghost stuck living in a glorified glove!¡± Ichni chimed in, her tone weirdly triumphant, like we were comparing war medals.

    I sighed heavily. ¡°Fine, you win. I¡¯m only half dead, and I live in... what was it again? A rusty trash can?¡±

    ¡°Exactly! Just a couple of undead weirdos. Some proper odderoos,¡± she declared, as if we¡¯d just named our club.

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I could practically feel the embarrassment of having to wear some sort of dumb sports shirt called ¡°The Undead Odderoos¡±.

    ¡°I still have a sliver of dignity left. Somewhere.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s cute. You think dignity¡¯s a thing you can keep,¡± she teased with a wicked grin.

    ¡°Oh, by the way,¡± she continued, straightening her posture dramatically, ¡°I am Ichni, first princess to the crown! The Black Lady, Witch of Webs¡ªyou name it, they¡¯ve called me it.¡± She ticked off each title with deliberate emphasis, practically daring me to bow. ¡°I may not be much of an adventurer, but with my royal legacy and boundless expertise, I should make for a most capable leader of this group... assuming you prove yourself useful.¡±

    The pride radiating off her was almost blinding. It was clear she treasured these titles, likely bestowed by terrified villagers or bitter castle maids. For once, I decided not to mock her. No point poking the spider.

    However, it feels like there was some miscommunication.

    ¡°Uh, Ichni? Hate to break it to you, but I¡¯m the one in charge here,¡± I said, keeping my tone calm¡ªdiplomatic, even. ¡°The Four-Lights entrusted me with your care because they thought you¡¯d make a great, uh¡­¡± My words faltered for a moment. ¡®Asset¡¯ felt too impersonal, and ¡®sidekick¡¯ felt like asking for trouble. ¡°Partner. Yeah, a partner for the team. I¡¯ve got a plan, and I¡¯d appreciate that you work with me as a partner.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s actually Princess Ichni. ¡®Your highness¡¯ would also work!¡± She corrected me. She completely zoned out the rest of everything I said, as though ignoring me completely derailed the power struggle in her favor. Watching her attempt some kind of regal pose to punctuate the point, I felt my heels dig into the dirt as though I was ready to sprint back into the deeper part of the woods.

    ¡°I¡¯m not calling a demon ghost girl ¡®Your Highness,¡¯¡± I said flatly, crossing my arms for emphasis. This earned me another glare, which seems to be a trademark of hers. ¡°Look, it¡¯s taking a lot of effort to undo years of prejudice just to call you Ichni. Let¡¯s not push it.¡±

    ¡°Hmph!¡± She sniffed, tilting her head back in exaggerated indignation as though to look down on me. ¡°Very well. I shall allow it, since you¡¯re doing me the favor of carrying me on this noble journey.¡± Her lips curled into a smug smile. ¡°But be grateful, trash-can knight. Few others would dare address me with such... familiarity.¡±

    I gave up as I stood, sighing with all the remaining air left in my slump body.

    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I said with a bitter taste in my mouth, trying to sound nonchalant. ¡°I¡¯m heading into the meadows. You know, with all those hoplops you¡¯re so scared of.¡±

    ¡°Eeep! Wait! Wait-wait-wait-wait!¡± Ichni squealed, her composure evaporating in an instant. In a blur of panic, she zipped back into the gauntlet with the urgency of a chicken fleeing a fox.

    I raised an eyebrow at the glove, giving it a light tap to confirm she¡¯d settled in. Satisfied, I turned my attention to the nearby trees. After a quick search, I found a sturdy branch about as thick as my arm. It wasn¡¯t elegant, but after a few experimental swings, I grimaced as I felt my mind trail off to my master, who had always reminded me to only carry a sword I was familiar with.

    It wasn¡¯t exactly Chandrabolg, but it would have to do. I¡¯d handled my fair share of short swords in my younger days, and while this glorified stick wouldn¡¯t be winning me any duels, one good swing might be enough to knock out something tougher. Probably. Sorry, master. I¡¯ll try to make you proud with what I got.

    As I scanned the area for supplies, a cluster of red-spotted mushrooms growing by a tree trunk caught my eye. I crouched down, plucked a few, and held them up to the gauntlet like a chef presenting the day¡¯s special.

    ¡°Hey, princess,¡± I called out. ¡°These mushrooms safe to eat?¡±

    ¡°How should I know?¡± her voice echoed faintly from the glove, sounding more confused than annoyed.

    ¡°You... don¡¯t know if these are edible?¡± I asked, uncertain I heard her right..

    ¡°Of course not!¡± she snapped, as though I¡¯d insulted her royal lineage. ¡°I had all my meals prepared for me. What do you take me for, some kind of forest farmer?¡±

    A¡­ forest farmer? I thought. How sheltered is this chick? Well, to be fair, I didn¡¯t know if they were safe to eat either, so it¡¯d be a bit hypocritical to scold her for her ignorance. Maybe I¡¯ll chop them up later to put over a pizza monster or something.

    I dropped the mushrooms onto the bench for safekeeping¡ªjust in case¡ªand turned toward the meadow. My stomach grumbled at the thought of a proper meal. The raw fish I¡¯d eaten earlier had been... tolerable, but the idea of freshly cooked meat made my mouth water. With my makeshift club in hand and my hunger driving me forward, I set off, hoping I¡¯d find something edible that didn¡¯t eat me first.

    The sun warmed my face as I ventured into the meadow, a growing sense of optimism in my step. For a brief, blissful moment, I even started to skip, enjoying the fluttering of butterflies around me. Then reality hit¡ªI was being watched by someone who would absolutely mock me to the ends of the earth for it. Clearing my throat, I adjusted my pace to a dignified march and focused on the horizon. Somewhere out there was a town. And, hopefully, dinner.

    Roughly ten minutes into my trek, the first of the infamous monsters Ichni had warned me about appeared. It hopped onto the path about five meters ahead, its beady red eyes locked on me with unsettling intensity.

    ¡°Why hello, appetizer!¡± I welcomed it with greedy eyes. I could practically taste the meal it would provide after roasting it over an open fire.

    At first glance, it looked like a jackalope¡ªan adorable, mythical rabbit with antlers. But the aura it gave off was anything but adorable. Its white fur bristled like static, and its sharp, pearly teeth gnashed together with a sound that sent a painfully clear message. Naturally, I had wandered into its territory. And it was not happy about it.

    Before I could process how one rabbit could look so menacing, two more hopped out of the tall grass to flank their leader. Fantastic. A trio.

    ¡°Well, congratulations, you three!¡± I snickered, wiping the drool off my face. ¡°It looks like you just received a free upgrade to ¡®full course meal¡¯ status!¡±

    My grip tightened on the club as I sized up the situation. Three of them, one of me, and no backup except a ghostly princess who was currently hiding in a glove. Perfect.

    I hunched into a battle stance, my weapon at the ready, anticipating their first strike. ¡°Alright, fuzzy demons,¡± I muttered under my breath, ¡°let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡±

    The hoplops began their assault, leaping toward me one by one with what I could only describe as... leisurely aggression. Slow, almost comically so. It took them several seconds just to close the gap, like they needed to do a leapfrog dance routine before they could initiate their deadly assault.

    I hesitated, watching their bizarrely choreographed approach, before deciding I wasn¡¯t about to wait for them to get their act together. With a yell, I charged straight at the largest of the three¡ªtheir fearless leader.

    ¡°Taaaaaake this!¡± I roared, channeling all my pent-up frustration into the swing. The club arced upward in what I was certain would be the greatest uppercut this rabbit¡ªor any rabbit¡ªhad ever seen. My form was perfect, my timing impeccable, and¡ª

    CRACK!

    The club caught a rock mid-swing. My golf technique sent the pebble flying into the brush, but not before Newton¡¯s third law decided to betray me with the sudden forceful stop. Pain exploded up my arm as my wrist twisted sideways, and before I could recover, the momentum carried me straight into the hoplop. Hitting the ground in a graceless heap, I howled in agony, clutching my throbbing wrist.

    ¡°AIYEEEE~!¡±

    Apparently, gravity had decided to take my side, because my full weight landed squarely on the lead hoplop. There was a muffled crunch, and just like that, my weight alone had crushed the rabbit, killing it near instantly.

    The remaining two scattered to the side, wisely avoiding my flailing limbs as I writhed on the ground, clutching my injured hand.

    ¡°OW! Ow, ow, ow! You stupid fucking vermin, I¡¯ll kill you! I¡¯ll kill you!!!¡± I shouted through gritted teeth, tears stinging my eyes.

    ¡°Get ¡¯em, Adrian! You¡¯ve got this!¡± Ichni¡¯s voice rang out cheerfully from the glove, completely ignoring the fact that I was writhing in pain and humiliation.

    ¡°Thanks for the support,¡± I growled through clenched teeth. ¡°Really helpful.¡±

    What followed could only be described as a wild bar brawl of flailing limbs, desperation, and questionable tactics. One hoplop lunged at me, and I instinctively soccer-kicked it with everything I had. This snapped my ankle, sending a second howl out of me as I shattered its antlers. It soared into the air with a surprised squeal, vanishing momentarily into the grass.

    The other took advantage of the distraction, launching itself onto my back and gnawing furiously at the rusted armor. With a guttural growl, I threw myself backward, slamming into the ground and crushing the would-be attacker beneath me with the force of a dumpster.

    The impact knocked the wind out of me, leaving me gasping as I struggled to keep the adrenaline-fueled rage burning. As I pulled myself up, I felt the antlers plop out of my back and wet trickles of blood coming down. Guess it was less a ¡®body slam¡¯ and more of a ¡®double edge¡¯!

    The last hoplop returned, now with stubs for horns and its red eyes burning with vengeance for its fallen comrades. I didn¡¯t wait for it to make the first move. With a roar that was equal parts rage and exhaustion, I lunged at the creature like a wild animal, tackling it to the ground.

    Gripping the gauntlet tightly, I began hammering away at the squirming rabbit, each strike accompanied by a muffled ¡°Ouch!¡± from Ichni inside the glove.

    ¡°Could you maybe not use me as a blunt weapon?¡± she complained, her voice laced with irritation.

    ¡°Could you maybe not criticize me in the middle of this?!¡± I shot back, delivering one final blow that left the hoplop limp beneath me.

    Covered head to toe in sticky black blood, I raised the limp body of the last hoplop in triumph and howled at the sky like a feral beast. It wasn¡¯t my proudest moment, but in the heat of battle, it felt oddly satisfying.

    As the adrenaline began to fade, the pain came rushing back in waves. My wrist throbbed like it had a personal vendetta, my foot ached from the soccer kick, and my back felt like I¡¯d gone a few rounds with a spiked boulder. Still, I had won. Somehow. And in the process, I¡¯d secured my first proper meal in this strange, unforgiving world.

    We won¡¯t count the raw fish.

    ¡°I... I did it! I actually won!¡± I gasped, gathering the fallen hoplops with shaky hands. My voice cracked halfway through, but I didn¡¯t care¡ªI¡¯d earned this moment. I could practically hear the victory fanfare as I leveled up from useless undead to pro-wrestler.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    From the safety of her gauntlet retreat, Ichni¡¯s voice chimed in with perfect timing. ¡°I mean, technically, gravity and dumb luck did most of the heavy lifting, but sure, let¡¯s call it a win!¡±

    ¡°Could you just let me have this?¡± I groaned, glaring at the gauntlet.

    ¡°Fine, fine. Congrats on your incredible victory, oh great trash-can knight,¡± she teased.

    Just as I reached for the third rabbit to complete my collection, I suddenly felt a dangerous presence behind me. My instincts kicking in, I turned around as my eyes landed on something I hadn¡¯t expected¡ªand definitely didn¡¯t want to see.

    Sitting calmly atop the corpse of one of the hoplops was a slime. Its ocean-blue form rippled as it jiggled in place, emitting a faint, wet slurping sound. By the time I realized what it was doing, one-third of my hard-won dinner had already disappeared into its gelatinous body.

    ¡°Hey, you... that¡¯s mine!¡± I snapped, pointing accusingly at the slime. It gurgled in response, completely unfazed by my outrage.

    Slimes were weak monsters¡ªbarely a threat¡ªbut they were infuriating nuisances back in my old world. I wasn¡¯t about to let this jiggling blob waltz in and steal my dinner.

    Shoving the remaining two hoplops under my injured arm, I grabbed the club with my good hand and charged. ¡°Get ready for a beating, you gelatinous thief! Those were my rabbit nuggets!¡±

    I swore I heard a faint toot come from it, like a mocking gesture that it had already enjoyed my meal.

    ¡°And now you join the potluck!¡± I roared, raising my club with all the righteous fury of a man denied his first-class meal. The swing connected with a satisfying smack!¡ªa sound somewhere between a wet towel hitting the floor and a sumo wrestler¡¯s slap.

    I expected the slime to splatter gloriously, or at least get launched into the distance. Instead, the club bounced harmlessly off its wobbly surface, leaving me staring in disbelief.

    The slime blinked its bulbous eyes at me, equally stunned by my attack. But the shock quickly gave way to something more menacing. Its innocent stare hardened into an unmistakable glare, and for a moment, I swore the jiggling mass was offended.

    Frustrated, I raised my foot to deliver a decisive stomp¡ªonly for it to skid across the slime¡¯s slippery surface. Realizing I led with my good foot, my balance vanished, and I hit the ground with all the grace of a collapsing sack of potatoes.

    Before I could even groan in frustration, the slime had shot into the air like a spring, performing a ridiculous front flip as if to mock me once more with some style points. Then, with a wet splat, it came crashing down on my chest, driving the air from my lungs in one humiliating blow.

    ¡°HUUUUUUURGH!¡± I groaned out in response.

    The slime launched itself into the air again, clearly intent on finishing the job. This time, though, I was ready. Scrambling to my feet, I took a step back, gripping the club like a seasoned batter at the plate.

    ¡°It¡¯s a grand slam, baby!¡± I bellowed, swinging with everything I had. The club connected, and for a split second, I felt victorious¡ªuntil the wood exploded into splinters, leaving the slime entirely unharmed.

    I couldn¡¯t believe it. Was this slime immune to wood or something?

    ¡°It¡¯s a slime, Adrian!¡± Ichni called helpfully from the glove, her tone laced with innocent patience.

    ¡°No shit, what gave it away?!¡± I snapped, waving the broken remains of my club at her.

    ¡°Tch, murakka! Slimes are immune to bludgeoning attacks!¡± Ichni snapped, her tone dripping with exasperation.

    I swore. Shit! She was right. How could I have forgotten something so basic? Back in my old world, I¡¯d always taken them down with a magical sword¡ªnever a blunt weapon. Now here I was, flailing uselessly with a glorified stick against the one enemy that could shrug it off entirely.

    Sweat beaded on my forehead as the horrifying truth set in. I was in a losing battle. With a slime.

    As I stared at the slime in growing bewilderment, something about its shape began to shift. Two floppy ears sprouted from its gelatinous body, followed by a pair of jagged antlers¡ªclear remnants of the hoplop it had devoured.

    The ears looked harmless enough, drooping lazily to the sides. But the antlers? They gleamed with a sharpness that made my stomach churn.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s just unfair,¡± I muttered under my breath, gripping the broken remains of my club a little tighter. Realizing it was just as useful as my injured wrist, I dropped it. I¡¯m sorry for disappointing you, master!

    ¡°This calls for one of my advanced techniques,¡± I declared, trying to sound confident despite the rising panic in my chest. It had been a while since I¡¯d resorted to such tactics, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

    It didn¡¯t matter how ridiculous it looked. Against a monster¡ªany monster¡ªI¡¯d do whatever it took to survive.

    The slime began hopping toward me, its movements far more aggressive than the hoplops¡¯ sluggish antics. I dropped into a low stance, readying myself for the perfect moment to strike.

    It hopped closer. And closer. I waited, my grip clenching dirt into my hand. Just as it landed a couple of meters away, I made my move.

    ¡°Pocket sand!¡± I shouted, flinging a handful of loose dirt directly into the slime¡¯s... well, face, I guess?

    The attack did absolutely nothing, but I didn¡¯t stick around to admire my handiwork. With a yelp, I spun on my heel and sprinted back toward the forest, my battered body protesting every step.

    * * *

    The rabbit-slime stopped at the edge of the forest, staring me down with an unsettling intensity. I braced myself, ready to run again if it so much as twitched in my direction. But to my surprise¡ªand immense relief¡ªit didn¡¯t cross into the Forest of Passing.

    Maybe the cursed air acted like a natural barrier, or maybe it just wasn¡¯t stupid enough to venture where I had. Either way, it hesitated for a moment longer before turning away and hopping back into the meadow, its antlered silhouette vanishing into the tall grass.

    I let out a shaky breath, leaning against a tree. Safe... for now.

    ¡°Whew. I¡¯m freaking beat,¡± I muttered, before collapsing onto the bench like a sack of bricks. It groaned with the abuse, but otherwise it ignored my crude return. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, every muscle in my body screaming in protest.

    This body wasn¡¯t built for running¡ªespecially not from a slime. More than once, I¡¯d had to slow down to fend off the thing as it relentlessly chased me. I even threw one of the hoplops at it in a desperate bid to buy time, but revenge apparently mattered more to it than snacks.

    A fresh wave of annoyance flared in me as I realized it was probably heading back to eat the hoplop now. Great. I wasted part of my dinner and have downgraded back to appetizer status.

    I was in a bad state from both those fights. I didn¡¯t expect my first encounter to take so much effort, and despite Ichni¡¯s warning I went full throttle to my own defeat. Even my dinner, the smallest of the three demon rabbits, looked meager in comparison to what I gave up for it. I sighed in resignation.

    ¡°Told you they were dangerous killers,¡± Ichni¡¯s smug voice chimed as she materialized next to me, perched delicately on the bench.

    I unceremoniously dropped the remaining rabbit to the ground. It wasn¡¯t at risk of being eaten by the slime, so I just wanted to ignore my snack for now. Plus, I didn¡¯t know how to start a fire, and forest-ranger Ichni was about as likely as the slime to know how to use a flint and tinder.

    I glared at her, too exhausted to muster a proper retort. ¡°I feel like I hurt myself more than they did,¡± I muttered ruefully.

    ¡°True. So much for being a Paladin, huh?¡± Ichni teased, her lips curling into a pitying smile. ¡°What¡¯s next? Summoning a horde of skeletons to flay your enemies alive? Or maybe pointing at them dramatically and commanding them to drop dead?¡±

    I sighed, too drained to rise to the bait. ¡°That¡¯s not even remotely what paladins do,¡± I muttered, brushing off her jabs with as much dignity as I could muster¡ªwhich, admittedly, wasn¡¯t much.

    ¡°Right... well, you certainly could pass for a rabid ghoul after that first swing. Ehehe.¡± Ichni¡¯s quiet chuckle quickly spiraled out of control. She tried to stifle it with her hand, but it was a lost cause. ¡°Ahaha! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s so damn funny?¡± I snapped, glaring at her. ¡°Think you could do better, ghost girl?¡±

    She didn¡¯t even acknowledge me, doubling over in laughter as her body twitched with delight. Apparently, my humiliation was her new favorite form of entertainment.

    ¡°The way you tripped and squashed the first one by falling on it¡ªoh, mein teufel, I thought I was going to die!¡± Ichni wheezed, tears streaming down her face. ¡°And then, oh devils, when you tried to stomp the slime and went ass over head into the dirt? Priceless!¡±

    She clutched her sides, her laughter echoing through the quiet meadow as her tail flailed like a wind-up toy. Each time she seemed to calm down, another fit of giggles took over, leaving me standing there, equal parts embarrassed and annoyed.

    She was clutching her sides in mirth, gasping for breath as she giggled the seconds away. ¡°Ahahahaha! Ahahaha¡­. Hahaha¡­ hahhhhhh.¡±

    ¡°Glad my life-and-death struggle with those terrifying killers you warned me about was so damn amusing,¡± I fumed resentfully, crossing my arms as I impatiently waited for her to stop with the theatrics.

    ¡°Oh, honta, it really was,¡± Ichni replied, her laughter tapering off into smaller giggles. ¡°You¡¯re a funny one, you know that? I think I quite like you.¡±

    Her smirk widened as she leaned in conspiratorially. ¡°Just imagine if you tried to fight my father. What¡¯s the plan there? Sneak in from the roof for a surprise attack by landing on him? Ehehe!¡±

    I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I had just won my first encounter since I came back to life, and she wants to bring up the final boss? ¡°Can we not talk about that right now?¡±

    I briefly considered grabbing her by the throat and shoving her back into the glove, but the sheer weight of my exhaustion¡ªand her relentless teasing¡ªleft me slumped in defeat.

    Hunched over, I let out a long, defeated sigh as her bullying finally subsided. The worst part? I couldn¡¯t even muster the energy to argue. She¡¯d won this round. Completely.

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Ichni said, her voice softening unexpectedly. It carried a gentleness that caught me off guard¡ªlike a mother reassuring a child after a tantrum. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, floppy one. My hands are instruments of divine grace, wielding a gift that only I, in all my brilliance, possess in this cold, unyielding world.¡±

    Her sudden shift to poetic grandeur was almost enough to make me forget how infuriating she¡¯d been just moments ago. Almost.

    I turned to her in amazement. A gifted power? Something only the spider princess could wield?

    I was in a wretched state, barely fit for a mid afternoon nap. I didn¡¯t feel like I was going to get far like this, with a rolled ankle and a spicy wrist. It was clear that my body was still that of a reanimated corpse still trying to shake off rigor mortis, damn it!

    Yet, despite this, in my feeble position, it appeared that I still had one last trump card- the mysterious hidden art that the soon to be queen of this world possessed. I was floored that I managed to secure some kind of loose alliance with this foul mouthed girl.

    What could it be? Was it eldritch power, granting me the power to blast my foes into dust? Or maybe the gift of flight, where I could soar the skies? I¡¯d take one of those fancy demon eyes you¡¯d see in anime that I could use to perceive some abstract concept. Could she unlock a power inside me I never knew I had, but was always there?

    ¡°Behold, my loyal servant, and witness my love and affection made manifest in unholy form!¡± she proclaimed with theatrical flair, her voice only slightly muffled by what happened next.

    To my absolute horror, she leaned forward and spat a glob of sticky webbing into her hand with the enthusiasm of someone presenting a masterpiece. The wet splat as it landed was enough to make my stomach churn.

    What in the fuck did I just sign up for?

    It emerged like a massive wad of under chewed gum, glistening and sticky, and the smack it made as it hit her palm was disturbingly similar to the sound of the slime I¡¯d fought earlier. The wet, resonating noise had made me flinch instinctively.

    Before I could fully register the horrifying mess she was holding, Ichni slapped the goo onto my broken wrist with zero warning. A sharp jolt of pain shot up my arm, making me yelp, but she paid no mind.

    With swift, practiced movements, she began pulling strands from the glob, wrapping them meticulously around my forearm. Her hands worked with precision, and even her spider legs joined in, weaving the sticky material like it was second nature.

    ¡°GAH!¡± I protested, recoiling as much as my battered body would allow. ¡°What in the hell are you doing?!¡±

    Ichni didn¡¯t even flinch at my outburst. ¡°What does it look like?¡± she replied, her tone dripping with exasperation as though I were the unreasonable one. ¡°I¡¯m tending to your wounds. Can¡¯t just let them fester, you know. You were creaking like an old willow after a windstorm, broken branches and all!¡±

    She punctuated her statement by running a strand of webbing across her teeth with a sharp snap, making me shudder.

    ¡°Well, maybe a little warning before you barf web on me?!¡± I demanded angrily.

    ¡°BARF? EXCUSE ME?¡± she shouted, livid at the word. I recoiled myself, half wondering if I just insulted her entire family line. ¡°I am a princess! My webs are a treasure to the people of this realm! Be thankful, you ungracious murakka!¡±

    I flinched, unable to figure out if I had actually done wrong being upset at this bizarre activity. She¡¯s half preparing me as a spider meal to be sucked dry, was I actually in the wrong?

    ¡°Okay, but what is this even supposed to¡ª¡± My words caught in my throat as the webbing began to shift. The fine strands tightened, burrowing lightly into my exposed skin like living stitches.

    I braced for pain but was instead met with an almost overwhelming wave of relief. My wrist clicked back into place with a satisfying pop, the ache fading away as though it had never been there.

    ¡°Ohhh... by the Four-Lights, that feels incredible,¡± I murmured, my voice heavy with bliss. Whatever magic was in her webbing, it was like the spider equivalent of a painkiller¡ªand it worked wonders.

    I loosened my posture, slacked my shoulders and accepted whatever else she needed to do. She nodded proudly as she went to town on me- not in that way, for the perverted- and began spitting and smacking her webs all around my body. Again, it sounds weird when I say it like that, I understand what it sounds like, this is a perfectly natural way for a Spider Princess to patch up her wounded knight. Sure.

    At the very least, the one person that would have made fun of me for it was the same person that was patching me up, literally and figuratively. If life called for me to get satisfaction from being spat on by a spider-princess, then so be it. I really was halfway to being in a cocoon before she dusted her hands in satisfaction.

    ¡°See?¡± Ichni said, her voice brimming with pride as she surveyed her handiwork. ¡°My webs regenerate cuts, bruises, broken bones¡ªyou name it. They¡¯re versatile, effective, and, like I said, my own special gift. Just leave it on for a bit, and it¡¯ll dissolve once it¡¯s done its job.¡±

    I turned to look at the princess who just delivered the doctor¡¯s order, completely immobile as the webs clung me to the bench with only small parts of my appendages jutting out. I felt like a newborn bird taking a break from hatching out of its shell- and I was quite content with where I was.

    Taking this as medical obedience, she dusted off her hands, grinning like she¡¯d just performed a miracle. In a way, I guessed she had.

    ¡°If I ever die again,¡± I murmured, half-lost in the soothing sensation, ¡°I want it to feel exactly like this.¡±

    Ichni raised an eyebrow, her grin sharpening. ¡°Well, lucky for you, I¡¯m doing this so you don¡¯t die. So that¡¯ll have to wait, won¡¯t it?¡± she quipped, her tone as confident as ever.

    ¡°Am I ¡®Your Highness¡¯ now?¡± Ichni asked, her voice dripping with smug confidence. She didn¡¯t just expect the title¡ªshe knew she¡¯d earned it.

    I let out a long, blissful sigh, the lingering relief from her webbing making it hard to argue. ¡°You keep pulling off tricks like this, and I¡¯ll call you whatever the hell you want,¡± I admitted, leaning back against the bench. ¡°Ahh¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a party trick, you fool¡ªit¡¯s a real power!¡± Ichni huffed, her irritation flaring for just a moment before she hesitated.

    ¡°Although... I might have used it a few times for tricks at parties,¡± she admitted with a shrug. ¡°But that¡¯s beside the point!¡±

    A few minutes passed in sheer, unbroken bliss before I noticed the webbing beginning to dissolve, just as Ichni had promised. The strands faded into the air like smoke, leaving my skin unmarked and my body feeling... well, less like a ragged cadaver and more like an old man. Still, it was loads better!

    I flexed my wrist experimentally, then rolled my shoulders. No immediate aches, no sharp pain. ¡°I feel alive!¡± I exclaimed, throwing my arms into the air like I¡¯d just won a marathon. Doing a quick stretch, I felt one last pop in my back that felt like heaven, and I gave two thumbs up.

    ¡°You still don¡¯t look like it, you half-assed ghoul!¡± Ichni congratulated, equally joyfully.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,¡± I shot back, though I couldn¡¯t keep the awe out of my voice. ¡°Seriously, though¡ªwebs like that? Amazing! Can all spiders do that? I thought they were just for catching bugs!¡±

    Ichni leaned forward, fixing me with a baleful stare. ¡°Ever the eloquent speaker, aren¡¯t you? No, genius, not all spiders can do this. Only my webs have healing properties¡ªif I spin them just right. So, there. Not useless.¡±

    I raised my hands in mock surrender. ¡°Even if I wanted to think that¡ªwhich I don¡¯t¡ªI¡¯d never let such a treacherous lie leave my lips.¡±

    ¡°Good! Because I¡¯m exhausted,¡± Ichni announced, stretching her arms and spider legs with just as much effort as I had. ¡°That little display took more out of me than I care to admit. I¡¯m taking a nap. Good night!¡±

    With that, she flopped backward onto the bench, her posture as casual as if we were lounging in a royal palace instead of the middle of nowhere. After a moment she shot up, realized that she was sinking partway into the wood, and retreated back into the gemmed gauntlet.

    ¡°Oh, uh, g¡¯night,¡± I muttered awkwardly, glancing up at the midday sky.

    I hesitated, unsure if moving around would disturb her¡ªor if she even could sleep, given her ghostly nature. For all her infuriating quirks and smug behavior, Ichni hadn¡¯t done anything outright malicious. Yet. That fact, more than anything, was what kept my simmering irritation from boiling over.

    In her defense, if I¡¯d been mauled to death and my spirit chained to some random schmuck with questionable survival skills, I¡¯d probably be dragging my feet and demanding my revival nonstop. Maybe even more obnoxiously.

    For all her sarcasm and attitude, Ichni had cheered for me during my slapstick battle with the hoplops and that stupid slime. And when I earned the dubious honor of gaining a mortal nemesis in one of the weakest monsters in existence, she still went out of her way to patch me up.

    It was hard to lump Ichni in with the ogers that tore my friends apart or the commander who blew my head off. Sure, there was a chance she saw me as some kind of demon or monster thanks to my current undead state. But the fact that she hadn¡¯t been deterred by my plan to take on her father¡ªthe supposed Demon King¡ªwas... intriguing.

    She was more like a precocious teenager that just had their first week in college, rattled with the sudden shift in lifestyle while trying to keep on airs that she had it all together. New dank dorm room, a stinky bunkmate, the whole nine yards.

    What was going on in her head, I wondered? She couldn¡¯t be fully on board with my plans, could she? Maybe she was just content to tag along for now, or maybe she wasn¡¯t as sharp as she wanted me to believe. Or worse¡ªshe was biding her time, waiting for someone more loyal to her cause to come along.

    It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine she had enemies everywhere, especially with the Demon King as her father. But if even one defector was out there willing to help her, I might be in for more trouble than I¡¯d bargained for.

    Back in my old world, there¡¯d been no shortage of scheming nobles and would-be usurpers. Prince Ramel came to mind¡ªthe guy practically had an army of sycophants ready to help him force the king off the throne.

    If the Four-Lights were trying to restore balance here, surely I wasn¡¯t the only pawn they¡¯d try to rally. A jaded princess like Ichni, demon or not, seemed like the kind of wildcard they¡¯d want in their corner. If they found someone else to ¡®take over¡¯ the role of hero, was I expected to just hand her over? That thought wasn¡¯t exactly comforting.

    I shudder at the thought of betrayal on every front. I had no allies in this world¡ªno one I could personally trust. Ichni was here, sure, but was against her will, her soul effectively chained to me like dirty laundry duty. My enemies? They wouldn¡¯t even see me as a threat. Just a minor nuisance.

    It was a lonely place to be, and the idea of being double-crossed by the one person stuck with me wasn¡¯t just unsettling¡ªit was terrifying.

    But maybe being overlooked wasn¡¯t all bad. If no one took me seriously, I could use that to my advantage. Stay under the radar, strike when the time was right, and rise from the shadows as the unexpected hero. Technically speaking, I had no enemies, save the single slime.

    It wasn¡¯t much of a plan, but it was better than wallowing in self-pity.

    But first things first. My gaze drifted nervously back to the field, where the faint, jiggling silhouette of the slime loomed like a mocking reminder of my earlier defeat.

    I took a deep breath, steeling myself. In this new life, I was destined to face all kinds of trials. Great foes, impossible odds, world-shaking decisions. But right now?

    I had to figure out how to deal with the damned slimy asshole that stole my dinner.

    <hr>

    ¡ªIchni¡ª

    <hr>

    I couldn¡¯t believe it. I¡¯d been warned to never use my gift on anyone unless I completely trusted them, yet here I was. What choice did I have?

    The vulnerability of exposing my secret gnawed at me. What if this ruined me? Could I even marry after this?

    And then he had the audacity to call it barf. As if I¡¯d spit vomit on him like some mindless fly feasting on a corpse.

    I¡¯d spent years perfecting the art of threading my webs, honing my technique to a craft few could dream of mastering. And yet, for the first time, someone regarded it with outright disgust.

    Was it truly that revolting? Should I be ashamed of what my body can do?

    I lay curled up in my spirit form, confined to this little pocket dimension. The space was cramped and suffocating, a vast expanse of darkness stretching endlessly in every direction.

    The only feature of this void was the oval mirror across from me. Its frame of cracked wrought iron looked weathered and rusted, but the glass itself was pristine¡ªsharp, clear, and far too large for the frame that held it.

    I glanced at the mirror with disinterest. There was rarely anything worth seeing¡ªit only reflected the view from that buffoon¡¯s hand. Occasionally, he¡¯d move his wrist, and I¡¯d catch fleeting glimpses of his face: pallid white skin, a grayed mop of purplish hair, and those piercing yellow eyes.

    He wasn¡¯t human¡ªnot any kind I¡¯d ever heard of. His skin was cracked and teetered on the edge of rot, giving him the look of a revenant or, perhaps, a strangely handsome ghoul. If such an oxymoron exists.

    And, of course, he occasionally scratched his ass or adjusted his junk, blissfully unaware¡ªor unconcerned¡ªthat I had to witness every mortifying second of it.

    I rolled over with a sigh, the weight of my circumstances settling heavily on me. This was my life now. One moment, I was striding through the ebony halls of my royal castle, every step a reminder of my station. The next, I was fleeing for days, hunted like prey by one of the stewards I despised most.

    Damn you, Onshi. Dullahan had warned me this day might come, but I never thought you¡¯d actually have the nerve¡ªor the opportunity¡ªto act on it.

    But the thought that my father might have given you the order himself? That was something else entirely. If it were true... it would break me.

    If my father had truly commanded it, it would mean half the world was prepared to hunt me down. The Demon King had everyone wrapped tightly around his finger, their loyalty unquestioning. Even some of my so-called friends would likely soil themselves at the mere thought of defying him.

    But Adrian¡­ what a name. Too noble, too proper¡ªit doesn¡¯t suit him at all.

    He said he was a Paladin, but it was clear it was all an act. Dullahan used to tell me bedtime stories of these ¡°Heroic¡± monsters, hunters that preyed on demons like us and tortured them so gruesomely that it would destroy their very being.

    Dooly said he was even one, since he had no issues taking care of both humans and demons that fell out of line with my dad. The way he can channel such an menacing mana, completely void of that of even the Elements¡­ and then there was Adrian, whose abilities were more that of howling like a screeching cat in heat.

    And yet, that fool truly believes he can challenge my father. He even thinks he can overturn all the harm he¡¯s done. It¡¯s laughable. No one can defeat the Demon King. Everyone knows why.

    He¡¯s cursed with invincibility.

    That curse has been his reality since before I was born. Many have tried to challenge him over the years, sparring with him in hopes of uncovering some mortal flaw. But not only is he immortal¡ªhe¡¯s also one of the strongest beings I¡¯ve ever known.

    Even Onshi wouldn¡¯t dare cross him, not after realizing that the chains binding my father couldn¡¯t be broken, no matter how hard his grubby, fur-covered paws pulled.

    And yet, Adrian sets out to do just that. Of all the people I¡¯ve met in this world, he¡¯s the first who truly believes¡ªnot just that he can defeat my father, but that he¡¯s meant to.

    He might look like death warmed over, and he¡¯s certainly a bit of a moron, but there¡¯s courage in those yellow eyes of his. That spark of determination... I want to see it. I want to watch it grow into a raging fire.

    I want to see this world consumed by that fire, and I can¡¯t wait to see what rises from the ashes¡ªa world where fear and sorrow no longer rule my kingdom.

    My father¡¯s so-called invincibility is the very thing that chains him to his own prison within the castle. If those chains are ever shattered... there¡¯s no telling what might happen next.

    I chuckled softly to myself and closed my eyes. For the first time, trapped here in this pocket dimension and in this miserable state, I think I finally understood how my father must have felt¡ªalone, angry, and bound by forces we couldn¡¯t control.

    Maybe, when I see him again, both of us will finally be free. Maybe then, we¡¯ll stand eye to eye, unburdened by lies or constraints.

    No more lies. No more tricks. No more unanswered questions.

    It will just be him, me, and¡ªif he¡¯s lucky¡ªthis ridiculous, rusted bucket of a knight.

    And then, finally, I¡¯ll ask him the truth myself.

 Chapter 9: Right of Passage, Part 1

    <hr>

    ¡ªAdrian¡ª

    <hr>

    For what felt like two days, I schemed endlessly, crafting increasingly ridiculous plans to cross the treacherous meadows. These once peaceful plains now felt like a war torn battlefield. I couldn¡¯t be sure how much time had really passed¡ªthis forest seemed trapped in an eternal twilight where the sun never set¡ªbut exhaustion crept in after every failed attempt. Between retreats, I collapsed onto the bench that had become my temporary home, too tired to care.

    That slime deserved a war medal from the Demon King himself for its dedication. It guarded the meadow like its life depended on it, turning every step forward into a personal challenge. In a series of attempts that would¡¯ve made a certain wily coyote proud, I fashioned wooden spears, cobbled together crude swords, and even dug pit traps to sabotage the damn thing.

    The spear, my first masterpiece, was as useless as I was. The moment I lunged to stab the slime, it swallowed the weapon whole and then turned it back on me, leaving me defenseless. I barely escaped back to the woods, its squishy form hot on my heels. Defeated and humiliated, I had no choice but to ask Ichni to patch up the holes in my backside¡ªmuch to her amusement.

    The wooden sword, my second attempt, fared a little better. I sliced through the summoned hoplops with ease, their shrieks of defeat fueling my confidence. But when I turned the blade on the slime itself, it melted the wooden tip like a sugar cube in tea. As if mocking me, a second slime had appeared, forcing me into yet another humiliating retreat.

    By the third attempt, I was smarter¡ªor so I thought. After carefully observing the foul creature¡¯s movements, I crafted what I believed to be a foolproof plan. I dug a pit three meters deep, lined it with spears as a distraction, and prepared a barricade of rocks and dirt to bury the creature alive. With sticks and leaves concealing the trap, I surveyed my work with pride. Surely, this time, I¡¯d outwit the bastard.

    After it inevitably fell into the hole¨C slimy ears, antlers, and all¨C the first step was to cover it before it could simply hop back out. Then, once the full weight of the earth fell upon it, either the filled hole would act as a suitable grave, or bought myself enough time to get out of sight before it knew which way to pursue me. I had planned out several points to run off to, including a couple of the far off trees, in the event that the slime managed to escape faster than intended.

    When the time came, everything started perfectly. The rabbit slime chased me, just as I¡¯d predicted. I sprinted toward the pit, leaping gracefully over the hidden trap. With a triumphant grin, I prepared to activate phase two and bury the creature for good.

    And then it happened.

    The slime landed squarely on the pit¡¯s covering, hunkered down, and slammed me square in the face. I failed to calculate the weight of the creature, and my branches, thick enough to support it, had failed to trigger the trap. It felt like I was being sucker-punched by both a gelatinous boulder and my own stupidity.

    I should¡¯ve known. I should¡¯ve double-checked. I should¡¯ve¡ªugh, I should¡¯ve just run away again.

    By the time I was on the ground, dazed and humiliated, Ichni had completely lost it. Her laughter echoed in my ears, loud and unapologetic, as I crawled backward to avoid another slime slap.

    ¡°Oh, Adrian! You look so pathetic!¡± she howled, materializing just long enough to point and cackle at my misery.

    Something inside me snapped.

    Fueled by equal parts rage and desperation, I lunged, grabbed her tail, and swung her around like the world¡¯s angriest wrecking ball.

    ¡°AIIYYEEEEE, A-DRI-ANNNN~!¡± she shrieked as I smashed her into the slime, sending it skidding back half a foot.

    ¡°Use your teeth and claws, damn it!¡± I roared, swinging her again in a wide arc.

    Ichni flailed helplessly, tears streaming down her face¡ªnot from combat but from sheer panic. ¡°You idiot! I can¡¯t fight like this!¡± she wailed, her claws swiping wildly but connecting with nothing.

    After a few pathetic attempts, she let out a frustrated screech and vanished back into the gauntlet with a whoosh.

    Realizing I was now alone again, I turned tail and ran. My ¡°weapon¡± abandoned me, the slime recovered, and with humiliation burning hotter than ever¡ªI was not about to stick around for round whatever-it-was.

    By the time I dragged myself back to the bench, battered and bruised, Ichni made it clear I wasn¡¯t getting any healing this time. She didn¡¯t even say anything¡ªjust a smug silence that stung more than the bruises.

    I slumped against the wood, staring blankly at the stripped canopy above. It was always the same. A harebrained scheme. A failed attack. A humiliating retreat. Rinse and repeat.

    What was I missing? What crucial piece of the puzzle was staring me in the face while I just kept charging in like an idiot?

    The slime wouldn¡¯t fight me here, in the forest. Maybe it was the magic¡ªsomething about the place screamed ¡°welcome to the afterlife¡± to anyone or anything with a trace of life left in it. Whether it''s the faint aroma of a rotting carcass or the lifeless wind that drifted it out, I wasn¡¯t sure what was scaring the slime from entering the forest. It felt less like ¡°Forest of Passing¡± and more like ¡°Forest of No Return¡±.

    What if I could drag the slime into the woods? Would it combust? Freeze in terror? The thought tempted me, but the logistics were... grim. Trying to carry a slime that could dissolve everything it touched? Yeah, no thanks. That wasn¡¯t a plan. That was suicide.

    But then another thought crept in.

    What if I didn¡¯t have to drag the slime here? What if... I brought the forest to it?

    *  *  *

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    A few hours later, the meadow was abuzz with activity. A platoon of slimes and hoplops patrolled the perimeter under the watchful eye of their leader, the rabbit slime. It had clearly anticipated my next attempt to cross, having mobilized its forces into a makeshift army.

    If that weren¡¯t bad enough, the damn thing had erected a crude sign depicting Ichni and me¡ªher looking devilishly smug, and me with a giant ¡°X¡± over my face. The message was clear: not only was I unwelcome, but I was to be executed on sight.

    The sound of rustling leaves and snapping branches grew louder, setting the meadow¡¯s defenders on edge. One of the hoplop sentries cried out in alarm, its shrill voice rallying the troops into formation.

    But when they saw what emerged from the forest, their courage evaporated.

    Lumbering into view came a gargantuan bush¡ªthree meters tall, with massive tree branches for arms, hoplop skulls for eyes, and gnarled mushroom spears forming its grotesque, gnashing teeth.

    The creature¡ªone of the most terrifying ¡°treants¡± ever to stalk the meadow¡ªstomped over to the crude sign. It paused, as if reading the insult, then gave an angry shake and knocked it over with deliberate malice.

    That was enough for several slimes, which promptly fled. Wood was their usual snack, but treants were an entirely different story. No slime worth its gelatin would dare pick a fight with a mean, green, magical lumber machine.

    To them, trying to take one of these hulking monsters would be game over, as one good swing of its branches, or a grip from its gnarled roots could bust them apart like a child with bubble wrap. As the army began to desert, the rabbit slime watched in horror as the creature made a slow beeline towards the local human village.

    As the treant advanced, it cast a slow, menacing glance at the rabbit slime. The creature immediately dove behind a rock, quivering in terror.

    The treant paused, shifted its weight, and continued its steady march forward. The rabbit slime peeked out cautiously, visibly relieved that it wasn¡¯t the treant¡¯s target¡ªfor now.

    The slime, of course, didn¡¯t have the brainpower to realize my ruse was working flawlessly. Beneath the monstrous treant disguise was me¡ªsweating, staggering, and carrying an absurd amount of foliage tied together with vines and Ichni¡¯s webbing.

    The thing weighed a ton, but it was the best plan we could muster after I¡¯d grovelled before Ichni for forgiveness over the whole ¡°flail incident.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re so abha,¡± Ichni murmured smugly from her perch inside the treant¡¯s ¡°mouth¡± as we trudged forward a few meters at a time. ¡°I knew that slime would freak out if it thought a treant was hunting the fields.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great and all,¡± I muttered, struggling to push the cumbersome disguise forward. Every step felt like I was carrying an actual tree. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to make it all the way to the village like this.¡±

    ¡°Oh, quit whining and put your back into it!¡± Ichni snapped, lounging comfortably on my shoulder as she peered out of the treant¡¯s ¡°mouth.¡±

    ¡°If you get too tired, we¡¯ll just pull over, pretend to be a bush, and I¡¯ll patch you up. Easy peasy. I¡¯ve got you, mitre!¡± She flashed a confident grin, clearly enjoying herself more than she should.

    The plan was, dare I say, foolproof. I¡¯d march. I¡¯d break down. She¡¯d heal me during breaks. Rinse and repeat until we reach the village. So long as the branches held, the disguise was intimidating enough to keep the smaller monsters at bay.

    When we reached the furthest point I¡¯d ever gotten, we even gave each other a celebratory high five. It was probably the first moment of teamwork we¡¯d ever shared. The Undead Odderoos are back in action, baby!

    The monsters stayed away, just as we¡¯d hoped. Ichni occasionally spotted the rabbit slime trailing us from a distance, but the others scattered without hesitation.

    I got a little into the role, growling and shaking the treant costume at any hoplops foolish enough to linger. Maybe I had a future in acting¡ªone of those costumed performers who jump out at kids in haunted mazes. Not a bad fallback if the whole hero thing didn¡¯t pan out.

    Just as I started to believe this might actually work, the ground beneath me shifted. My weight sagged, the treant costume tilted, and before I could react, I came crashing down into a hole from the bush now perched above me.

    Before anyone, including Ichni, can yell, ¡°You moron, you fell into your old trap!¡± I¡¯d like to clarify: this was not my trap. This was the furthest we¡¯d ever gotten, and I hadn¡¯t dug any holes in this area!

    Judging by her startled screech, Ichni was just as shocked as I was as we tumbled into what could only be described as a freshly dug tomb.

    ¡°What the hell is this?!¡± I shouted, groaning as I scrambled to my feet.

    ¡°How should I know?!¡± Ichni snapped, her voice dripping with indignation. ¡°I didn¡¯t see any stupid hole in front of us!¡±

    For the record, I wasn¡¯t blaming her. But it¡¯s nice to know where her head¡¯s at. We¡¯re a team now, besties for resties! I wasn¡¯t about to let a small problem demolish our freshly paved alliance!

    As I looked around, my stomach sank. Tunnels branched out from the sides of the crater, their entrances crudely reinforced with dirt and wood. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

    ¡°That slimy bastard got the drop on us!¡± I roared. ¡°It had the hoplops dig this trap!¡±

    Fueled by fury, I scrambled toward the wall, using the tunnels as footholds to start climbing.

    On the third foothold, a sharp jolt of pain shot up my leg. Something had stabbed clean through my boot.

    Gritting my teeth, I yanked my foot back and peered into the shadows. A small wooden spear lay waiting at the tunnel¡¯s entrance, perfectly positioned to catch anyone attempting to climb out. It was almost as if they¡¯d known exactly how I¡¯d react.

    My climb turned into a careful, nerve-wracking ordeal. Every tunnel had to be checked for hidden traps before I dared use it as a foothold or handhold. Each step was slow, deliberate, and maddeningly tense.

    After what felt like an eternity, I finally hauled myself back into the treant disguise. I peeked out of its now sagged ¡°mouth¡± to assess the situation, and¡ª

    We were encircled by the enemy. Hoplops and slimes formed a tight ring around us, their numbers easily in the twenties. And at the center of it all, blocking my path forward like a smug little tyrant, was the rabbit slime.

    Ichni shouted something in her harsh, guttural language that made my skin crawl. I didn¡¯t understand a word, but I was fairly certain it was something I¡¯d have to repent for if I ever dared repeat it.

    The rabbit slime sat pleased at the head of the group, its beady red eyes gleaming with triumph. If it could¡¯ve smirked, I was sure it would¡¯ve.

    I spun the treant suit in a slow circle, desperately searching for a way out. But there was no escape. The rabbit slime and its army had us completely in its ambush.

 Chapter 10: Right of Passage, Part 2

    There was no escaping the truth: we were absolutely boned. Outnumbered twenty to one by a gaggle of low-tier monsters, outmaneuvered at every turn, and stuck with a trembling princess who was utterly useless in a fight. Things couldn¡¯t get worse¡ªor so I thought.

    Fury boiled in my chest at the sheer unfairness of it all. Maybe if I¡¯d just let that damn slime have its ¡°food tax¡± from the beginning, I wouldn¡¯t be in this mess. But no, here we were.

    The most baffling part? The predator-prey alliance. Weren¡¯t slimes and hoplops natural enemies? Did slimes only eat them once they were dead? Was that why this unholy coalition worked? My mind buzzed with questions I¡¯d probably never answer¡ªbecause, really, who cared about the dietary habits of slimes at a time like this?

    I shook off the grating thoughts and steadied myself, legs straddling the edge of the hole. With a small jump, I landed on solid ground, and several of the creatures instinctively backed away.

    Apparently, even after everything, they were unconvinced that I wasn¡¯t still some bloodthirsty treant. Good. I could work with that.

    I don¡¯t know what the odds are of a couple dozen slimes and demon rabbits defeating a real treant, and thankfully neither did they, as the rabbit slime didn¡¯t immediately charge or encourage others to do the same. It was a monster standoff.

    There was nothing else to it, then. Drawing on every ounce of primal rage and desperation, I arched my back, let the foliage slump dramatically, and took a deep breath.

    ¡°AHGHH-WOOWOOWOOWOOGAGGGHH!¡±

    The roar erupted from somewhere deep in my soul, a guttural bellow that would¡¯ve made even the fiercest beast proud. I trampled forward with all my might, trying to be the most convincing tree monster one could possibly imagine.

    As expected, several of the smaller monsters bolted. Fraud or not, the sight of a gargantuan ¡°treant¡± lunging in their direction was enough to send them scampering away, chubby tails tucked firmly between their legs.

    But not all of them. The rabbit slime and a handful of others stood firm, retreating only slightly in intimidation.

    Cowardly bluffs, I thought proudly. I saw how the rabbit slime reacted the first time I looked at it, there¡¯s no chance in hell it gained the courage to take us on like this.

    I took another step forward, trying to press my advantage. But then I felt it¡ªa slight shift beneath me. The ground began to give way.

    I dove out of the treant costume just as the ground crumbled beneath it. A second, even larger hole yawned open, swallowing the entire bush in one gigantic gulp. Dust billowed everywhere, and I didn¡¯t wait to see what came next. Using the obscure mess as an opportunity, I ran for my life, limbs pumping in pure desperation.

    It took several seconds for the dust to settle behind us and for the slimes to realize that the jig was up, and before long the slimes, outpacing the hoplops by far, made a beeline straight for us.

    The chase was on. It was a dog race, and we were the unlucky rabbits leading the pack.

    As though on cue for our newfound role, our mad sprint tore into the dirt path ahead. The ground flew past us like a blur as my feet, one of which was leaving a blood trail from the spear, were stretched to their limit.

    It was like they could smell the terror as I ran, knowing this was my final chance for escape, and they hopped as fast as they ever had.

    ¡°I hate slimes!¡± I cried in dismay.

    My mind raced just as fast as my legs, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªto slow the mob down.

    In a brief, frantic glance toward the horizon¡ªstill wondering how the hell the day cycle in this world worked¡ªI saw it.

    A crumbling stone fort stood just beyond the path, its decayed walls offering a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

    With the sight of salvation before me, a second wind surged through my legs. Every squat, every painful lunge I¡¯d ever endured in my meager acting life seemed to push me forward as my scrawny rooster legs flew toward the decrepit fortress.

    Ichni clung to my shoulder like a terrified cat, her claws digging in as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

    ¡°They¡¯re gonna eat us! Noooooo~!¡±

    With my legs on the verge of collapse, I vaulted the broken rock wall, catching it awkwardly with my foot. I tumbled into the fortress¡¯s inner courtyard in a heap, then scuttled into the condemned building like a cornered animal.

    Slamming the splintered door shut behind me, I collapsed into a dusty corner, my chest heaving as I fought for air. Every instinct screamed at me to crawl further inside, to find a more defensible position¡ªbut my legs had officially gone on strike.

    Cramped and utterly spent, I forced myself to peek through a hole in the wall. Sure enough, they were out there. The rabbit slime stood perched on a crumbling stone pillar, scanning the area with its beady red eyes, its gelatinous body quivering with bloodlust.

    A couple of slimes, bouncing up and down in excitement, were waiting to see if they risked it for the biscuit.

    But after a tense minute, as the sky grew darker, the rabbit slime made a loud slurping noise¡ªlike a raspberry blown in defeat¡ªand turned back toward its territory. The others followed, leaving me slumped in relief.

    I sighed in desperate relief. We were safe¡­ for now.

    ¡°Whew, we were almost goners there, eh?¡± I said with shaky amusement. ¡°Thought we were about to meet our ends here.¡±

    Ichni didn¡¯t respond. She stood frozen, her eyes darting around the room like a frightened mouse. Whatever she was seeing had made her terrified. As though she had realized something that was very, very wrong.

    ¡°A-a-a-adrian,¡± she stammered, her voice trembling as her face turned a pale shade of pink. ¡°Th-this isn¡¯t the ruined fort in the middle of the meadows, is it? M-maybe it¡¯s some other f-fort they don¡¯t warn people about?¡±

    As the creeping night deepened, the room around us grew steadily darker. I wasn¡¯t feeling too thrilled with the sudden change in the day. I felt a deep, old phobia begin to claw at me, keeping only at bay thanks to the company of the princess. Keeping my ragged breathing paced, I forced myself to take in my surroundings, suddenly aware of just how unsettling they were.

    The room appeared to have once been a soldier¡¯s foyer¡ªa gathering place for weary warriors to rest by the fire. But years of abandonment had reduced it to a shell of its former self. The hearth was choked with dust and ashes, its warmth long forgotten. Torn furniture lay scattered like a doll shredded by an angry rottweiler.

    Paintings had been ripped from the walls, their tattered remains strewn across the floor. Moonlight filtered weakly through cracks in the structure, casting an eerie glow over the thick layer of dust that coated everything. The air was heavy with the stench of mold and decay, the stone walls oozing a grimy dampness that made my skin crawl.

    For an abandoned building, this wasn¡¯t entirely unexpected. Sure, it had seen better days, but maybe the occasional wild animal took shelter here. Nothing out of the ordinary¡ª

    Oh.

    I glanced around, my stomach tightening.

    The room was filled with skeletons. About a dozen sets of bones, scattered haphazardly across the floor.

    ¡°Ah. Well, that¡¯s... unsettling,¡± I muttered, stone-faced. ¡°I guess that¡¯s what you were worried about?¡±

    ¡°Adrian...¡± Ichni¡¯s voice was barely a whisper, her face twisted in terror. ¡°This place is haunted. And at night...¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    I turned to her, hoping¡ªpraying¡ªthat she was exaggerating. But the look in her wide, frantic eyes and her chattering teeth confirmed the worst.

    ¡°These skeletons are going to¡ª?¡± I began, the words hanging in the air like an invitation for disaster.

    ¡°There¡¯s an evil ghost!¡± Ichni cut me off, her voice cracking. ¡°It eats anyone who comes here at night!¡±

    ¡°Oh, great. That¡¯s, what, 20% less terrifying?¡± I quipped, glancing around. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s no ghost here. Sorry, princess, no roommates tonight. Maybe it¡¯s already passed on.¡±

    ¡°Awoooooooo~!¡±

    The mournful wail echoed from above, drawing every hair on my body to full attention.

    As if I was personally paging the red flags to come one by one, the sound reverberated from above, eerie and bone-chilling. ¡°I... hunger...¡± it groaned, its voice warbling with unnatural modulation.

    I couldn¡¯t help but grimace. Did it have to sound like that? It¡¯s a ghost, not some zombie gargling water from a mop bucket.

    The room¡¯s candle fixtures erupted into eerie blue flames, and the ghost floated into view, descending the staircase with slow, deliberate menace. My half-hearted mockery immediately died in my throat.

    It had the ghastly form of a human soldier, its mangled body a haunting testament to a violent demise. In life, it might have been imposing; in death, it was pure nightmare fuel.

    Blood glistened on its translucent body, dripping from wounds that looked horrifyingly fresh despite its spectral form. Its hands, warped and grotesque, ended in jagged claws¡ªbones of its fingers were visibly sharpened to vicious tips.

    The ghost drifted into the center of the foyer, its hollow eyes locking onto me. Pale yellow orbs glowed faintly in its sockets, radiating a lethal, unyielding intent.

    Beside me, Ichni stammered incoherently, her voice cracking as she tried to form words. For once, I couldn¡¯t blame her¡ªI wasn¡¯t sure what to say either.

    ¡°Buh... eh... ha...?¡± Ichni spluttered uselessly, her fear robbing her of coherence.

    I, however, knew the ghost¡¯s weakness¡ªor at least, I hoped I did. There was no way I could win in a straight fight against something intangible, but I had one last trick up my holy sleeve.

    Drawing on a reserve of bravery I didn¡¯t know I had, I pushed myself to my feet. My heart pounded, but I forced a confident smile at the ghost.

    It paused, its menacing glare faltering slightly as if unsure of what I was planning.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Princess,¡± I said, glancing at Ichni. ¡°Remember what I told you I was?¡±

    ¡°¡°Th-th-that you¡¯re already half-dead and too stupid to be afraid to die?¡± Ichni squeaked, her voice climbing several octaves. She stared at me, wide-eyed, as if certain this was my final moment.

    ¡°Nah,¡± I said with a smug grin. ¡°That I¡¯m a Paladin¡ªa holy knight blessed by the Four-Lights. And guess what? I¡¯ve got over two thousand pages of holy scripture memorized, perfect for exorcising the undead.¡±

    ¡°Wuuuuuh~?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure if the ghost or Ichni said that, but I placed my arms on my hips as I finally got the upper hand. It was about time that my previous life had paid off.

    ¡°Behold, foul creature of the rankest filth!¡± I bellowed, raising my hand in dramatic fashion. ¡°Begone with your sorrows and be rid of your hatred, for I bring you the divine entirety of the Second Scripture of Penance¡ªall two hundred pages!¡±

    The ghost¡¯s glowing eyes widened as I launched into the sacred incantation. My voice boomed with exaggerated authority, each word dripping with theatrical intensity.

    Before I even reached the second verse, the ghost let out a tortured wail and began flinging broken furniture in every direction. Its clawed hands clutched its translucent head as if the words themselves were daggers.

    ¡°No! NOOOO~!¡± It bellowed in agony.

    ¡°ACK! What abhi?a nonsense are these evil, boring platitudes?!¡± Ichni shrieked, fleeing to a nearby wall. She clawed at it like a panicked cat trying to escape a bathtub.

    ¡°Are you fu-rorem, Adrian?! You¡¯re going to banish me too! Mata of murakkas, you¡¯re going to kill us both!!¡±

    My voice climbed from a low rumble to a booming roar of divine authority, each word growing louder and more obnoxious. The ghost writhed on the floor, howling like a toddler in the middle of a tantrum, furniture flying in every direction.

    Meanwhile, Ichni was losing what little composure she had left. ¡°Stop! STOP!¡± she screamed, desperation dripping from her voice. ¡°I¡¯ll do anything! I¡¯ll give you royal status, riches, even¡ª¡± her voice dropped to an incredulous mutter¡ª¡°sexual favors if that¡¯s what it takes! Just STOP!¡±

    For twenty agonizing minutes, I continued my relentless sermon. Every sacred word was etched into my memory, a result of years of grueling Paladin training. I¡¯d memorized entire volumes, down to the grammatical errors, through sheer repetition and suffering.

    My brain had practically turned into a mental printer, spitting out scripture like a holy automaton. Cooking? Forget it¡ªI couldn¡¯t recite the recipe for an omelet to save my life. But if it was holy, obnoxious, and long-winded? It was locked in like a steel trap.

    The ghost, completely overwhelmed by my barrage of sanctimonious drivel, writhed and howled in agony. Each passage drove it further and further away, its clawed hands swiping futilely as it tried¡ªand failed¡ªto silence me.

    Ichni, realizing she wasn¡¯t about to be obliterated but would instead suffer through the same torturous rite, slunk into the gauntlet. Her ghostly hands clamped over her ears, but not before shooting me one last venomous glare.

    At last, the ghost could endure no more. With a bloodcurdling wail, it slithered away like a spectral serpent, retreating to the farthest room it could find.

    I paused, gasping for air, my throat raw from the unending tirade.

    When the ghost peeked cautiously through a crack in the wall, I raised my hand and began to rev up another hundred pages of scripture. It screeched like a banshee and vanished entirely.

    The door to its refuge trembled violently before I heard the faint, unmistakable sound of a lock clicking into place.

    Despite its incorporeal nature, the ghost had somehow managed to lock the door¡ªdesperate to ensure I couldn¡¯t follow with more holy torment.

    ¡°I... I did it,¡± I croaked, my voice barely a whisper. ¡°Four-Lights be praised. The ghost is... gone.¡±

    Ichni, excruciatingly slow, came out of the gauntlet. She was practically married to me after all the promises she made trying to survive, but judging from her reproachful looks, I could expect an annulment to be coming very, very soon.

    ¡°I cannot believe,¡± she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain, ¡°that you managed to scare a ghost out of its own lair by yelling at it.¡±

    Her narrowed eyes stayed fixed on me, as if daring me to start up another sermon.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why that worked,¡± Ichni hissed, her tone a mix of bewilderment and fury. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what you thought it was supposed to do, but if you ever do that again, I swear I¡¯ll rip your tongue out while you sleep.¡±

    Her glare was razor-sharp, and for once, I didn¡¯t doubt her sincerity.

    I offered her a sheepish smile as I slid back into a sitting position, my body trembling from the sheer effort of it all.

    ¡°But did you die?¡± I asked, layering my exhaustion with a thin veneer of conceit.

    ¡°I¡¯m already dead, you underfed ghoul,¡± she shot back, crossing her arms with a defiant glare. ¡°Honestly, I wish I could¡¯ve gone deaf instead of enduring that.¡±

    I waved her off as I settled, earning me a cheeky huff in return.

    ¡°You know,¡± she huffed, rubbing her temples in frustration, ¡°you come up with the most ridiculous ways to fight. Most j¡¯ana just hit each other until one of them goes down. Simple. Effective. Logical.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not like most j¡¯ana, then,¡± I replied with exaggerated pride. I assumed the word meant ¡°people,¡± though her terminology was still mostly a mystery to me.

    Still, I couldn¡¯t shake the suspicion that whenever she called me something resembling the tambourine-like instrument, ¡°maraca,¡± it was definitely an insult.

    Regardless of her complaints, I¡¯d won. Victory was mine.

    As I leaned back against the cold stone wall, my eyes fluttered shut, and I prayed the ghost would leave us alone for good. Exhaustion tugged at me like a heavy blanket. Even that creeping fear of the dark took second place for the slumber I yearned for.

    Ichni, muttering under her breath like a disgruntled mother tending to a belligerent child, cocooned me in her sticky restorative webs before retreating back into the gauntlet.

    It had taken everything we had, but progress was finally within reach.

    Tomorrow would undoubtedly bring new trials and dangers, but that was a problem for future Adrian.

    For now, we could rest. Victorious.

 Chapter 11: A Heroéˆ¥æªš Welcome

    ¡°Thank evilness we¡¯re almost out of this ravine of death,¡± Ichni grumbled, leaning on my shoulder as if the weight of the world rested on her. ¡°I can¡¯t even begin to tell you how sick I am of those stupid hoplops. Blegh.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk. I¡¯m the one who has to fight them,¡± I muttered, trudging forward without breaking stride.

    ¡°Now you see why I hate them, don¡¯t you? Those ravenous eyes, those nasty teeth¡­¡± Ichni shuddered theatrically before a sinister smile crept across her face. ¡°Maybe when I¡¯m in charge of the kingdom, I¡¯ll have the guards wipe out every single one of them. Ooh, better yet¡ªburn this whole place to the ground!¡±

    Doing my best to ignore the unholy murder aura radiating off my companion, I mentally recounted the day¡¯s events.

    The ghost, thankfully, had decided to give us a wide berth all night. It glared daggers at me as I left the ruined fort, but made no move to follow.

    Before we departed, I¡¯d scavenged what little the place had to offer: a rusted iron sword and a moldy sheath barely fit to house the blade. Still, I reasoned, better than nothing. I¡¯d also picked up a few tattered sacks, because why not?

    The morning sun glistened on the dew, casting an almost serene glow over the trail ahead. As my feet sank in the wet dirt of the road, I felt the wind welcome my journey as a weary but bright-eyed traveler.

    Thankfully, we¡¯d been lucky¡ªno slime encounters so far, praise the gods. Still, the occasional lone hoplop tried its luck at terrorizing us.

    This time, I handled them with a bit more finesse than before, dispatching each with relative ease. Taking no chances of summoning their slimy counterparts, I bagged the bodies for dinner later.

    Unfortunately, my ongoing inability to start a fire meant another round of raw, unappetizing meals. If morale could plummet any lower, mine was currently tunneling into the earth to make yet another pitfall trap for me to fall into.

    Now, with the gates of what I hoped was Aratan Villa in sight, Ichni and I found ourselves in passable spirits. The anticipation of reaching civilization was enough to fuel some idle chatter to pass the time.

    ¡°Think we killed enough of them that they¡¯ll leave us alone if we ever come back?¡± I asked. A reputation could go a long way, even among monsters. It¡¯d be nice if word of ¡°the demon rabbit slayer¡± spread far enough to keep them at bay.

    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Ichni interjected with a dramatic sigh. ¡°They might be able to organize a mob, but they¡¯re dumb as rocks. Merdu, I hate those things.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± I asked, curiosity piqued, ¡°how¡¯d you get past these things last time? Assuming you came through here, that is.¡±

    ¡°When you¡¯re running from a platoon led by an angry war-cat screaming about how they¡¯re going to hunt you down, priorities tend to shift,¡± Ichni spat in hubris.

    ¡°Once you figure them out, they¡¯re not so bad¡ªthe hoplops, I mean,¡± I said, shrugging as we walked. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you don¡¯t have these things hopping around your royal backyard, though. So why are you so afraid of them?¡±

    Ichni¡¯s expression darkened, as if dredging up a particularly unpleasant memory. She eyed me warily.

    ¡°Promise you won¡¯t laugh?¡±

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯ll try not to laugh,¡± I said, letting out a nervous chuckle. Her dubious glare told me she didn¡¯t buy it.

    ¡°Look, everyone¡¯s afraid of something,¡± I added quickly. ¡°Hell, I knew people who were flat-out cowards who would jump at the drop of a cup. They had their reasons though, so it¡¯s not my place to judge.¡±

    Ichni studied my deadpan expression for a moment, letting out a long, reluctant sigh.

    ¡°Well,¡± she began, her tone betraying a hint of embarrassment, ¡°I was taking a nap at our summer fort when one of those things came in through the window. They¡¯re quiet, stealthy little buggers.¡±

    ¡°M¡¯kay,¡± I prompted, mildly amused. I could only imagine what kind of chaos a hoplop might have caused in her royal fortress.

    ¡°But then it got caught in my web,¡± Ichni continued, her voice tinged with lingering horror. ¡°And it let out the most terrifying, god-awful scream you¡¯ve ever heard¡ªlike a banshee being tortured.¡±

    ¡°Oh geez, I can only imagine the fright you had waking up to that!¡± I said with a wry smile.

    Apparently, that smile was one step too far, because Ichni¡¯s eyes narrowed, her claws twitching ominously.

    ¡°... Are you judging me?¡± she hissed, grabbing my ear with her tiny claws. While she couldn¡¯t hold a firm grip, those claws still managed to dig in just enough to hurt.

    ¡°OW! No, I wasn¡¯t, I swear!¡± I yelped, stumbling to the side of the road as she tugged mercilessly.

    Finally, she let go, flicking her fiery red hair over her shoulder and combing through it with her claws¡ªa nervous tic, no doubt.

    ¡°Alright, good,¡± she muttered darkly. ¡°Because if you were¡ª¡± her claws flexed menacingly¡ª¡°I¡¯d make sure you regretted it.¡±

    ¡°I promise to the gods I wasn¡¯t!¡± I declared, hands raised in surrender.

    She let out an exaggerated heaving sound, like my words physically disgusted her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t promise to them!¡± she snapped, slapping the side of my head for emphasis. ¡°They¡¯re the least trustworthy beings to swear oaths to!¡±Why am I in trouble for promising on an oath?!

    Oh, right. Demons. Probably topsy turvy on the rules of promises and secret keeping. Devils are trustworthy, holy gods are bad news. Like hell I was gonna swear on Mephistopheles, though.

    ¡°Fine, no promises! Yeesh!¡± I grunted, swatting at her like an annoying fly.

    She flitted off, landing on my other shoulder, her cheeks puffed out like an indignant toddler.

    ¡°I did hear you laugh, though,¡± she mumbled, her voice laced with accusation.

    ¡°To be fair,¡± I admitted with a shrug, ¡°I¡¯d laugh at a funeral if the eulogy had a punchline.¡±

    No point in denying it¡ªdark humor was my coping mechanism.

    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to laugh at funerals,¡± Ichni retorted, her tone unusually passionate. ¡°That¡¯s what Father always said!¡±

    Her words made me do a double take.

    ¡°Mock the weak, cherish the strong!¡± she added, as if quoting some sacred family motto.

    ¡°What kind of backward logic is that?¡± I said, disbelief dripping from my voice. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to cherish the ones you¡¯ve lost, not mock them.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what he always said,¡± Ichni countered defensively, her expression turning thoughtful. ¡°It¡¯s a demon-eat-demon world, you know? ¡®If they¡¯re not strong enough to survive, then it¡¯s not our responsibility to mourn their failures,¡¯ or something like that.¡±

    Despite her attempt to imitate some gruff demon king, her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I¡¯d lost dozens of people in my last battle, not because they were weak, but because I wasn¡¯t strong enough to protect them. And now, no one was left to grieve them but me.

    ¡°If that¡¯s how you feel, then I guess you¡¯ve never had anyone important die,¡± I replied softly.

    Ichni¡¯s gaze dropped immediately, her expression clouded with pain.

    ¡°I¡­ that¡¯s not true,¡± she murmured, her voice thick with sorrow. ¡°Some people just don¡¯t get funerals.¡±

    I stopped in my tracks, caught off guard once again by the weight of her words. Had she lost someone important too?

    The pained silence that hung between us made it clear this wasn¡¯t the moment to ask. Some wounds were better left untouched¡ªfor now.

    As the town¡¯s fortified wall loomed into view, I felt Ichni silently retreat from my shoulder, slipping back into the gauntlet. The wall itself stood at an impressive four meters high, its stone surface weathered by time but sturdy enough to suggest it could withstand more than just the occasional skirmish. Dark moss clung to the lower half like creeping veins, and iron sconces jutted out at regular intervals, some still holding extinguished torches.

    The defensive structure was no marvel of engineering, but it was well-maintained, with fresh patches of mortar here and there indicating recent repairs. Wooden scaffolding braced the back side of the wall, suggesting active upkeep. Arrow slits punctuated the upper portion, and a simple but effective steel portcullis barred entry, flanked by two squat towers.

    From a slight elevation, I caught a glimpse of the town beyond the walls. It wasn¡¯t large¡ªmaybe a few hundred residents at most¡ªbut the layout was surprisingly organized. Narrow cobblestone streets snaked through clusters of modest homes, their sloped roofs tiled in varying shades of dark gray. The houses themselves were a mix of stone and timber, their wooden beams aged to a rich mahogany, with the occasional splash of bright paint marking doors or shutters.

    In the center of the town stood a towering spire, its base broad and cylindrical before tapering into a sharp pinnacle that disappeared into the clouds. Birds circled the upper reaches, some diving into roosts carved into the stone structure. The spire was flanked by smaller buildings¡ªperhaps a library or town hall, judging by their stately design.

    Further west, the view gave way to more residential areas, interspersed with lush gardens and small market stalls. The air carried the faint, enticing scent of roasted chestnuts, though I couldn¡¯t see the source from where I stood.

    The gate itself was a simple yet imposing structure¡ªa steel portcullis framed by the twin stone turrets that seemed to scowl at approaching travelers. Each turret was topped with a conical roof, their slate tiles shimmering faintly in the sunlight. Narrow arrow slits dotted the towers, and I could just make out the gleam of a crossbow tip peeking out from one of them.

    Two guards stood at attention near the base of the gate, their figures casting long shadows across the well-worn path leading into the town. The steel bars of the portcullis looked freshly oiled, its mechanism hidden behind thick iron chains that looped through a pulley system on the wall.

    Above the gate, a colorful banner flapped lazily in the breeze. The emblem was unfamiliar to me¡ªa stylized tree with twisted roots and vibrant leaves of gold, red, and green. Whatever ruling body it represented, they clearly took pride in their insignia. It most certainly was a local symbol though- I doubt the ¡°evil big bad demon king¡± would spring for a tree as their logo.

    A short distance from the gate stood a lone bench, nearly identical to the one I¡¯d encountered before. This one, however, lacked the floral arrangement from the previous stop. Instead, a rusty iron trash can sat beside it, and an old lamppost hung overhead, casting a long shadow across the path. A wooden sign dangled from the lamppost, its paint faded but legible:

    ¡°Welcome to Aratan Villa¡ªWhere Fulfilled Dreams Come to Retire!¡±

    The message gave me pause. Was this town some kind of haven for the elderly, or did the tagline carry a more ominous undertone? The proximity to the Woods of Passing certainly added an eerie layer to the otherwise warm sentiment.

    I couldn¡¯t help but picture a wagon full of disgruntled retirees being carted off into the woods, their bingo cards still clutched in defiance. Surely they don¡¯t cart out the occasional elderly to the forest edge and conveniently leave them there, right?

    Casting the errant thought, I looked warmly at the bench, running my hand across it thoughtfully. It held the same wooden design that I appreciated, which served me faithfully as a reminder that comfort for the weary still existed in this cold, unforgiving world. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    As I approached the gate, breaking my gaze from the bench, I flinched. I expected to see human guards or even demons stationed at their posts. What I saw instead stopped me in my tracks.

    To my left stood a tall, lanky figure with the body of a gray wolf. Fur, fangs, tail¡ªthe works. The creature stood upright with an easy confidence, as if walking on two legs was the most natural thing in the world.

    No helmet obscured their face, leaving a pair of sharp, calculating eyes free to appraise me. A single scar ran over one of those eyes, adding a touch of ruggedness to their otherwise pristine fur. Their whiskers twitched slightly, longer than I¡¯d expected, like they might double as indicators of age.

    My first thought was that I had stumbled back into my old-old world at the front door to a furry convention, but then I saw the other guard.

    The second guard was a shiba-inu in humanoid form, standing proudly upright but with a roundness that bordered on comical. They were nearly as wide as they were tall, their armor barely containing their stocky frame.

    Holy shiba, I thought. It was like they¡¯d absorbed a third guard for safekeeping. Their wagging tail added an air of joviality that stood in sharp contrast to their wolfish counterpart¡¯s stoic demeanor. I still wasn¡¯t sure if they wanted to greet me or eat me. I assumed the former, considering that I looked like a moving corpse.

    ¡°Halt, traveler!¡± the gray wolf barked sharply, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through the morning air. His accent was peculiar, hard to pin down¡ªa mix of formal enunciation and casual slang.

    With a swift motion, he lowered his pike to block my path, the steel tip glinting ominously. A second later, the shiba-inu followed suit, albeit with a slight delay, as though he¡¯d momentarily forgotten the procedure.

    I gave the wolf-man a bemused look but stopped short of the gate, keeping just out of swinging distance.

    The wolf-man eyed me with a suspicious glance, running a clawed finger thoughtfully through the fur at his neck.

    ¡°What¡¯s a dodgy bloke like you doing faffing around back here? Proper suspicious, innit, Shiba?¡± he drawled, turning to his companion.

    I gawked silently, gobsmacked at the words he just flung at me like darts. Shiba, as they apparently were called, drank me in and gave a joyous nod.

    ¡°I¡¯d say so,¡± Shiba agreed, his soft, almost soothing voice contrasting sharply with the wolf-man¡¯s gruffness. ¡°On account of the fact we¡¯d have noticed him coming through here before now.¡±

    Taking the guards¡¯ words at face value¡ªat least, the ones I understood¡ªhe had a point. I¡¯d just wandered in from the middle of nowhere, with no prior ties to this place. It hadn¡¯t even crossed my mind that they might not let me in for that exact reason.

    ¡°I¡¯m just visiting,¡± I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. ¡°Lost my way. If you could just let me through, I¡¯d really appreciate it.¡±

    ¡°Oi, you hear that?¡± the wolf guard scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. ¡°¡®Lost his way,¡¯ he says! Poor muppet thinks he can waltz in here like he¡¯s the bloody bee¡¯s knees!¡±

    ¡°Surely there¡¯s no harm in it?¡± Shiba countered, his tone as calm as ever. ¡°We¡¯ve had no reports of intruders, and his weapon doesn¡¯t look particularly¡­ threatening.¡±

    His eyes drifted to my rusted sword, a faint trace of pity flashing across his face.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯ll toss the damn thing in the trash if it¡¯ll make a difference,¡± I said, motioning toward the nearby bin. ¡°I mean no harm¡ªI¡¯m just passing through. Promise.¡±

    ¡°Nuh-uh, ¡®old steady there, mate,¡± the wolf guard said, holding up a paw to stop me mid-step. He turned to Shiba, his tail flicking in irritation. ¡°It¡¯s the same old chestnut, innit? We let everyone in, and then we¡¯ve got a bloody stinkin¡¯ wraith to deal with!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m none of those things!¡± I insisted, my voice rising in exasperation. ¡°I¡¯m just visiting, I swear. Passing through, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Swear on your mum?¡± the wolf guard growled, his ears flattening against his head in suspicion.

    What is with this guy? I thought, a bead of sweat rolling down my temple.

    ¡°I swear on my mother¡ªrest her soul,¡± I said solemnly, doing my best to appear calm and sincere.

    ¡°He¡¯s just a fellow,¡± the shiba guard cooed soothingly, his voice as calm as a summer breeze. ¡°Let him through, love. No harm in it.¡±

    The gray wolf-man hesitated, fidgeting with his pike as if weighing his options. Was I some unruly intruder about to wreak havoc, or just a hapless vagabond in need of shelter for the night?

    I silently prayed he¡¯d settle on the latter.

    ¡°I am a bit knackered,¡± the wolf guard admitted at last, his shoulders sagging as though exhaustion had finally caught up with him.

    I sighed in relief, though his next words brought a new wave of confusion.

    ¡°Perhaps I lost the plot when I saw the ghostly coils on ya.¡±

    Ghostly coils? What the hell was he talking about? Was he just using a weird expression, or was there something about me that only his furry eyes could see? I felt like brain worms were burrowing into my skull trying to understand this guy.

    ¡°How ¡®bout this, lad?¡± he said, lifting his pike with a flourish and motioning toward me with one paw. ¡°I can¡¯t be arsed to vet ya proper, so let¡¯s make it fun¡ªhow ¡®bout a little pop quiz?¡±

    This earned both a sigh from me and the Shiba guard.

    ¡°Here we go again with the quizzes,¡± Shiba muttered, his tone laced with quiet exasperation. ¡°You can¡¯t just quiz everyone who tries to pass through, you know.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be throwing a wobbly, I¡¯ll keep em nice and simple!¡± the wolf guard said in defense, as though he was doing us a courtesy.

    ¡°Honestly?¡± I said, rubbing my temples. ¡°If this quiz gets me out of the fresh hell I¡¯ve wandered into, I¡¯ll answer whatever you want.¡±

    I found my gaze drifting to the wall, silently calculating my odds of scaling it. Could I hoist myself up fast enough to avoid a pike to the back? Probably not. But at this point, it seemed like a more appealing option than entertaining this pretentious canine¡¯s games.

    ¡°Right on!¡± the wolf guard barked, his tail wagging with unrestrained enthusiasm.

    I blinked, dumbstruck. Was this guy seriously so excited to play quizmaster that he¡¯d faked his earlier suspicion just to justify it?

    Shiba let out a long, weary sigh, dragging a paw down his face as though already exhausted by what was to come.

    ¡°All right¡­ let¡¯s hear the first question,¡± he muttered, his voice flat with resignation.

    With just as much enthusiasm as a talk show host, the wolf-man spun around dramatically before pointing his hand up to signify the first question.

    ¡°Question number one!¡± he exclaimed excitedly. ¡°What¡¯s the name of this dive that we¡¯re guarding?¡±

    I stared at him, slack-jawed, convinced I¡¯d just found the biggest moron in existence.

    Then it hit me: I was the one willingly playing along. Did that make me the bigger idiot?

    As I stood there, dumbstruck, Shiba caught my eye. Slowly and deliberately, he mouthed the words: Please say Aratan Villa.

    ¡°I, uh¡­ Aratan Villa?¡± I stammered, my voice lilting up at the end as if I wasn¡¯t entirely sure myself. I rested my hand on the sword¡¯s guard just in case.

    To my surprise, the wolf-man let out an enthusiastic whoop, his tail wagging furiously. I half-expected to hear the sound of a triumphant ¡°ding-ding-ding!¡± echoing somewhere in the distance.

    ¡°Corrrrrect! This guy¡¯s full of beans!¡± The wolf guard barked with pride, looking at me like a father whose child just aced a test.

    Then, he shot a side glance at Shiba, his ears twitching in mock suspicion. ¡°Oi, you¡¯d better sod off if you¡¯re planning to feed him the answers, mate.¡±

    Shiba rolled his eyes, his hefty frame shifting with a sigh of mild annoyance.

    ¡°Question numba twoooooo~!¡± the wolf-man continued, his voice stretching into a dramatic howl. ¡°Who¡¯s the chuffed winner of this year¡¯s ¡®Most Beautiful Fur¡¯ competition?¡±

    I blinked, completely at a loss.

    ¡°It¡¯s been all over the newspapers,¡± Shiba explained, his tone calm but his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. ¡°Surely any reasonable person would have heard about the winner by now.¡±

    Then his gaze hardened, a subtle edge creeping into his voice. ¡°Of course, only some wild monster posing as a person would be utterly clueless, wouldn¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Well, how the hell would I know?¡± was my immediate thought, but the weight behind Shiba¡¯s words told me this wasn¡¯t just a casual trivia question. This was a test¡ªone I couldn¡¯t afford to fail.

    Answering wrong might as well confirm that I was some kind of outsider, an intruder from beyond the kingdom¡¯s borders.

    I had to admit, I was a little impressed. This had gone from a quirky game show to a full-blown interrogation faster than I¡¯d thought possible.

    What do I do now? I racked my brain, trying to piece together any scrap of information that might help. I knew as many people here as I could count on one hand¡ªmost of them being Ichni and my slimy nemesis¡ªso it wasn¡¯t like I had any clue who might have award-winning fur.

    Maybe it was Ichni herself? Her hair was certainly luxurious, wild waves cascading like a crimson waterfall. But ¡°award-winning¡± seemed like a stretch.

    ¡°Psst.¡± A soft whisper cut through my spiraling thoughts, and I glanced down at the gauntlet. Of course¡ªit was her. The devil herself.

    ¡°Well?¡± the wolf-man growled, one eyebrow arching high enough to practically leap off his face.

    ¡°Well, you see¡­¡± I repeated nervously as I raised the glove to pretend to scratch the side of my head.

    ¡°The answer¡¯s Captain Onshi,¡± Ichni whispered knowingly, her voice dripping with disdain. ¡°That loser¡¯s won every single year for the past twelve years. Well, except once¡ªand that¡¯s only because his wife shaved him as a prank.¡±

    ¡°THAT DUDE HAS A WIFE?!¡± I blurted, my disbelief echoing far louder than intended. Both guards jolted in surprise, and I flinched at my own volume.

    Clearing my throat awkwardly, I forced a sheepish grin and scratched the back of my head. ¡°Uh, I mean¡­ Captain Onshi, of course!¡±

    The two guards exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of confusion and scrutiny. After a moment, Shiba gave a casual shrug and nodded.

    That was all the wolf-man needed. Letting out an exuberant howl, he pumped his arm triumphantly, his tail wagging with such fervor that I half-expected him to take flight.

    ¡°AWOOOO~! Atta boy, atta boy! Knew ya¡¯d pull through!¡± he cheered at me, patting me on the shoulder before returning to his post. Was he still interrogating me, or were we back to the game show motif?

    ¡°FOR THE JAMMY BRONZE!¡± the wolf guard bellowed, striking a dramatic pose as if delivering the final act of a grand play.

    Even the guards stationed above seemed taken aback, one of them turning away as though embarrassed to share a workplace with him. I felt bad for that guy.

    ¡°Aight, aight. ¡®Ere we go,¡± the wolf-man said, reigning in his theatrical antics and adopting a more serious tone. ¡°¡®ere we go¡ªquestion numba three. Where does his highness, King Malphas, like to go knees up for ¡®is summer holidays?¡±

    My arm twitched, ready to call for backup from Ichni, but the gauntlet remained suspiciously silent. Malphas¡ªso that¡¯s the Demon King¡¯s name¡ªwas her father, wasn¡¯t he? Surely she¡¯d know where he went for his so-called vacations.

    Then it hit me like such a slap to the back of the head that I actually thought that the princess had done it herself. The Demon King¡ªthe same guy we¡¯re trying to free by shattering his chains¡ªisn¡¯t exactly vacationing at the beach. He¡¯s literally bound in place. There¡¯s no way he¡¯s going anywhere, let alone on a summer getaway!

    ¡°That¡¯s a trick question!¡± I declared, straightening up with newfound confidence. ¡°His, uh¡­ ¡®highness¡¯ is bound by those cursed chains! He can¡¯t go anywhere!¡±

    It was as though the wolf guard was ready to turn into a barrel of lit fireworks with how much energy he exuded. He practically exploded on the spot with glee as tossed his pike to the side and began doing backflips around me like an over-caffeinated acrobat.

    I stood there, utterly stunned by the spectacle. Meanwhile, the shiba guard offered a polite clap, his expression an unreadable blend of amusement and resignation.

    ¡°Look at you, you old bean! You¡¯ve done it¡ªyou¡¯ve actually done it!¡± the wolf-man shouted, his voice brimming with excitement as he switched from flips to prancing around me in what could only be described as an impromptu victory dance.

    For a moment, I wondered if his acrobatics were some eccentric combat maneuver designed to confuse and disorient me. But no, it was just unbridled enthusiasm, and it left me completely dumbfounded.

    Meanwhile, the shiba-man, far more composed, motioned to the guards above. With a faint creak and the grinding of gears, the portcullis began to rise. It wasn¡¯t as loud as I would have expected, suggesting the gates were surprisingly well-maintained and frequently used.

    ¡°Good job!¡± Shiba said, offering me a polite nod. His earlier tension seemed to melt away now that I¡¯d passed their peculiar ¡°test.¡±

    ¡°Welcome to Aratan Villa. While you¡¯re here, you really ought to try the realm-famous chili con carne¡ªit¡¯s to die for,¡± he added, his tone betraying just a hint of dry humor.

    ¡°Now¡­ huff¡­¡± the wolf guard panted, clutching his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. ¡°Now that¡¯s¡­ hooo¡­ now that¡¯s what I call good nosh!¡±

    Straightening up, he took a deep, steadying breath, his tail wagging with satisfaction. ¡°And don¡¯t forget¡ªmake sure it¡¯s topped up spicy!¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± the shiba guard warned. ¡°They make it really spicy.¡±

    ¡°Posh.¡± the wolf scoffed.

    ¡°Whew,¡± I muttered, exhaling a long breath. ¡°That was¡­ a lot. Thanks, you two. I¡¯ll, uh, see you around!¡±

    Of course, that was a lie. There was no way I¡¯d willingly run into these two again if I could help it.

    I had barely taken a few steps into the town when the gates began to lower behind me, the faint clank of metal fading into the background. From the gauntlet on my arm, I heard the unmistakable sound of stifled laughter¡ªa steady stream of snickers that only grew louder with each passing second.

    ¡°Good job, old bean!¡± Ichni¡¯s voice finally burst out, her laughter spilling forth like a flood. ¡°You actually passed their ¡®sniff test!¡¯ What a riot!¡±

    ¡°I need you to do one thing for me,¡± I said, my voice low and deadly serious.

    ¡°Point me to the nearest tavern. I need to drown the memory of those last five minutes in something stronger than water.¡±

 Chapter 12: My Kingdom For A Sword

    As I stepped into the tavern, my body aching and my pride more battered than my armor, the old oak door groaned open, accompanied by the sharp clang of a bell. A sign above the entrance read The Bronze Rooster, and true to its name, the door was adorned with a bronze plaque of a regal-looking rooster mid-strut.

    The bartender, the first to notice my entrance, was an older man whose weathered face bore the marks of time. Dressed smartly in a neatly pressed vest, his snowy beard was trimmed with precision, contrasting the balding expanse at the crown of his head. His thick, expressive eyebrows shot up as he spotted me, yet his hands never paused. With the fluidity of a seasoned professional, he filled a mug of frothy beer and slid it across the counter just as I approached my seat.

    ¡°Morning, stranger,¡± the bartender greeted warmly, his kind smile framed by his neatly trimmed beard. ¡°Don¡¯t often see new folk strapping in for a morning drink, but you won¡¯t find a better seat in town than right here. Welcome to the Bronze Rooster, son.¡±

    Embarrassment tugged at me as I caught my reflection in the polished countertop. I looked like an underfed ghoul dragged through a battlefield, yet this gentleman treated me like any other paying patron.

    ¡°Thank you kindly, barkeep, but I haven¡¯t any coin, I¡¯m afraid,¡± I admitted, bracing myself for rejection. ¡°Will you barter?¡±

    He shook his head knowingly, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. ¡°From the look on your face, son, you need this one. And seeing as it¡¯s your first time stepping into my tavern, this one¡¯s on me. You can settle the rest when you¡¯re back on your feet.¡±

    His generosity stunned me. For a moment, he wasn¡¯t just a bartender¡ªhe was a beacon of mercy, a saint in a vest. I nodded my thanks, took the frothy mug, and downed it in one go.

    If numbing my woes was a sin, then at least I¡¯d found my house of the gods to confess in.

    ¡°Another?¡± the bartender asked, already tilting the tap to fill my mug.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to be best friends if you can keep reading me like that,¡± I replied with a wry smile, setting the empty mug back on the counter.

    He chuckled deeply, sliding the brimming mug back my way. ¡°If I had a silver for every time someone said that, I¡¯d own this whole street!¡± His laughter was infectious, a refreshing balm for my battered spirit. ¡°So, what do I call you, son? Can¡¯t start a tab without a name.¡±

    ¡°Adrian,¡± I said, taking a sip from the frothy brew. ¡°New to town, trying my hand at adventuring. Figured this was a good place to start.¡± The lie flowed easily. Whether he saw through it or not, he gave no sign of caring.

    ¡°Adventuring, eh?¡± His expression turned pensive as he wiped down the bar. ¡°Not too many of those types these days, what with the king¡¯s lieutenant making his rounds. Keeps the streets clean, if you catch my drift.¡± He leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. ¡°Still, you might find a few jobs posted at the old guild hall. The kind of work that requires a little¡­ discretion.¡±

    Ah, wet work. I pieced it together instantly. The kind of dirty deeds too grimy for the guards or too sensitive for them to know about at all. Not my first choice for employment, but when in Demon Rome¡­

    ¡°Appreciate the advice, but I need to get myself a proper weapon first¡ªpreferably a sword,¡± I admitted, glancing down at the rusted excuse for a blade strapped to my side.

    ¡°A sword, eh?¡± He eyed the battered weapon with a raised brow. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re short on coin, I can¡¯t imagine ol¡¯ Quen will give you the time of day. That orc¡¯s a tough nut to crack. Still, she¡¯s got a soft spot for folks like you.¡±

    ¡°Like me?¡± I asked, raising a curious brow.

    ¡°Broke and desperate.¡± He grinned, then shrugged. ¡°But she¡¯s fair. If you can catch her in a good mood, she might give you a chance.¡±

    I nodded, taking another sip of the lukewarm beer. It wasn¡¯t exactly my drink of choice, but the faint buzz dulled the sting of the day¡¯s humiliations. From guards with a love for pop quizzes to slimes that turned my own traps against me, it had been a series of low blows.

    ¡°What¡¯s Quen like? Anything she¡¯s partial to that I could, I don¡¯t know, bring to warm her up to me?¡± I asked, attempting an innocent tone.

    The barkeep¡¯s eyes twinkled as he burst into hearty laughter, the sound echoing through the room as he slapped the counter. ¡°You aiming to sweet-talk the smith? Oh, that¡¯s rich, boy. She¡¯d eat you alive!¡±

    He wiped his eyes and then bellowed, ¡°Oi, Climmard! Climmard! This guy¡¯s a funny one just like you, aha!¡± as though he¡¯d stumbled upon the joke of the century. I turned to see who he was calling. Perched on a stool in the corner, a man¡ªor was it a demon?¡ªmet my gaze with an appraising look.

    If the guards were a toll on my mental sanity, this guy was a straight-up bankruptcy notice.

    I squinted at him, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. His face was painted stark white, brighter than my already pallid complexion, with angular black streaks beneath his eyes that made him look like some failed art project. His hair¡ªplease, gods, let it be a wig¡ªwas a ridiculous shock of bright red, styled into a chaotic mess that had all the charm of a roadside accident. To top it off, a pink feather jutted out at an odd angle, swaying with every movement.

    The outfit didn¡¯t help. He wore a gaudy black-and-white striped one-piece that screamed, ¡°LOOK AT ME!¡±¡ªand not in a flattering way. It was like someone had merged a felon clown and a mime, then tossed in a healthy dose of ¡°circus reject.¡± Yet despite all that noise, I hadn¡¯t even noticed him when I walked in. He was playing the guitar softly, his presence somehow muted until the barkeep called his name. Was he cursed to be ignored until someone acknowledged him? If so, that might actually explain a lot.

    Our eyes had met. His expression shifted to one of mild surprise before he nodded at me with a theatrical flourish, inviting me over with a wave. I conceded the crown for the joke of the century for whatever sad story this clown had.

    ¡°Good luck, son,¡± the barkeep murmured with a knowing grin. ¡°He¡¯s an earful, that one. Now, as for Quen? She¡¯s got a soft spot for my Chili Con Carne, extra spicy. If you mention my name and butter her up, I¡¯ll fix you both a bowl for cheap.¡±

    At that exact moment, my stomach let out a ferocious growl that could rival the howl of the Gray Wolf-Man from earlier. The barkeep raised an eyebrow, his grin widening.

    ¡°Seems your gut¡¯s ready to barter before you are,¡± he teased. ¡°Kitchen¡¯s not open just yet, but I can get yesterday¡¯s batch warmed up. Tastes just as good as the night before. Hell, maybe the spice will even add some color back to that ghostly face of yours.¡±

    His cheerful persistence earned him a genuine smile from me, a rare thing these days. ¡°Thanks, barkeep. Really.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me just yet. Quen¡¯s got a sharp tongue to go with that forge of hers. Better hope the chili helps you out more than she chews you out,¡± he said with a hearty chuckle.

    I gave him a nod of gratitude and turned my focus to the strange figure in the corner. Climmard, my would-be entertainer rival, was waiting.

    As I made my way to the corner of the tavern, I took a moment to observe the room¡¯s other patrons. Two rugged men, clearly adventurers¡ªor at least aspiring to be¡ªsat at a nearby table, engrossed in an animated conversation that involved wild gestures and occasional loud bursts of laughter. Their equipment, though functional, was mismatched and had the look of secondhand finds, suggesting they were just starting out or weren¡¯t particularly successful.

    Closer to Climmard sat a bespectacled young woman, her auburn hair pulled back into a neat ponytail that seemed at odds with the irritation etched on her face. She was dressed in modest but clean town garb, practical and well-kept. Her scornful gaze fixed on the bard with the intensity of someone long-suffering, like a spouse fed up with their partner¡¯s antics. However, the small pile of parchment on the table in front of her, along with the quill she tapped impatiently against the wood, suggested otherwise.

    Curious, I tried to catch a glimpse of her work, but she immediately noticed my attempt. Clicking her tongue in irritation, she hastily gathered the pages, stacked them neatly, and folded her arms protectively over them. Clearly, her scribblings¡ªwhatever they were¡ªwere not meant for prying eyes.

    ¡°Hey there, partner! Climmard¡¯s the name, exposition¡¯s my game.¡± The bard¡¯s voice carried an air of breathy theatrics, every syllable trailing as if punctuated by the strum of his guitar. He gestured flamboyantly to the seat across from him, his painted face alight with unearned grandeur.

    I hesitated, arms crossed as I regarded him with mild amusement. After the fever dream of the guards at the gate and the two beers that were now sloshing around in my empty stomach, I was ready for whatever absurdity this self-proclaimed entertainer had in store.

    With a resigned sigh, I took the offered seat, leaning back as I addressed him. ¡°Good morning. You called me over for something specific, or is this just a social visit?¡± My voice held a faint note of disinterest, though I was more intrigued than I let on.

    Somewhere deep down, I knew better than to expect anything resembling a soulful ballad. My gut told me this was about to be more performance art than heartfelt music.

    ¡°I¡¯m always eager to see a kind soul,¡± Climmard crooned, plucking a few dissonant, almost lazy chords from his guitar. ¡°And wouldn¡¯t you know it, yours just happened to be the one destined for this seat, the perfect audience for a tale such as mine.¡± His voice carried the practiced rhythm of someone who spoke more often for show than sincerity.

    I raised an eyebrow as he continued, his words dripping with melodrama. ¡°A stranger in a strange land, seeking solace, searching for wisdom. It¡¯s the same old story, a melody I¡¯ve sung countless times for the lost and wandering.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re a bard, then,¡± I said, this time with a genuine flicker of curiosity. Despite myself, his theatrical demeanor was oddly captivating. ¡°Forgive me for saying so, but with the... uh, outfit, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what you were going for.¡±

    ¡°Twice now I¡¯ve struck out in this cold, unkind world,¡± Climmard murmured, his fingers lazily coaxing a mournful tune from the guitar strings. His voice dropped to a whisper, nearly drowned out by the lingering notes. ¡°For years, I roamed as a traveling clown, determined to bring smiles to weary faces, to plant seeds of joy where despair had taken root.¡±

    His tone turned somber as he continued, the weight of his story falling heavy in the room. ¡°But one day, the cream pies lost their charm. The honking nose, once a symbol of delight, no longer sparked laughter. The world grew quiet... and so did I. No more honks. No more joy. And in that silence, I discovered my true calling.¡±

    ¡°And so you became a mime,¡± I ventured, already bracing for the absurdity. I tried to ignore the double meaning behind his words, but they stuck to me like the princess¡¯s webs. I needed to assume her meant as an actual clown and not some joke of a fuck boy.

    ¡°You get it!¡± Climmard perked up, his strumming momentarily brighter. ¡°But the art of mime¡­ it¡¯s a lost craft, a relic of a more graceful age. I didn¡¯t know the nuances, the sacred unspoken rules.¡± His face turned grave, like he was recounting an ancient tragedy. ¡°I performed the motions, imitated the act, but when I began faking the cries and laughter¡­ I crossed an invisible line that no mime should ever dare to breach. Even if it¡¯s unseen, a mime knows it¡¯s there. I made a sound.¡±

    His guitar echoed a melancholy tune, emphasizing the weight of his tale.

    ¡°So that¡¯s when you became a bard,¡± I concluded, thinking I¡¯d cracked the obvious.

    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Climmard confessed with a sheepish shrug, his fingers plucking a few hesitant strings. ¡°I became a musician¡­ sort of. Trouble is, I didn¡¯t know how to play anything back then. For the longest time, I¡¯d just carry this guitar around, telling tales and spinning yarns, hoping no one would ask me to actually play. The music? That came later¡ªout of necessity more than anything.¡±

    The self-deprecation in his tone almost made me feel sorry for him. Almost.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ incredibly tragic,¡± I said, forcing a meek smile. For a fleeting moment, I almost felt better about my own pitiful lot in life. At least I wasn¡¯t a failed clown-turned-mime-turned¡­ whatever this guy was now.

    Climmard, undeterred, straightened his back with a flourish, striking a dramatic pose. ¡°I am neither a clown, nor a mime, nor merely a bard. I have transcended such labels to become something far greater.¡± He paused for effect, his voice dripping with theatrical bravado. ¡°I am this tavern¡¯s corner entertainer, the guardian of tales, the herald of wisdom, spreading the vast and boundless knowledge I have gathered from my travels.¡±

    ¡°And it pays for your room since you¡¯re broke,¡± the barkeep muttered, scrubbing a glass with the kind of disdain that only familiarity could breed.

    ¡°That too,¡± Climmard added absentmindedly, his fingers plucking an aimless melody as he seemed to drift into his own little world. Then, with a sudden blink, he remembered I was still sitting there and offered me a grin¡ªa strangely defeated one at that.

    ¡°So, stranger,¡± he began, leaning slightly forward in a way that suggested a grand offer, ¡°care to hear a poor fool¡¯s tale? A couple of copper and I¡¯ll spin for you a yarn of the world you¡¯ve yet to know.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have any money,¡± I admitted bluntly, watching as his strumming faltered mid-note. His grin flickered, and for a brief moment, I thought he might boot me out for wasting his time.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, staring at me as though I¡¯d just broken some sacred performer-customer pact. But after a brief pause, he resumed playing, his usual rhythm restored. ¡°That¡¯s alright. I¡¯ve got a few freebies up my sleeve for situations like this. Come, gather round, and lend an ear. My tales are like answers to the questions you never even thought to ask.¡±

    No one in the tavern so much as shifted in their seats. Seeing as I was already in front of him, leaving now would feel awkward, if not outright rude. Besides, after all the barkeep¡¯s kindness, the least I could do was humor the man he clearly tolerated out of charity.

    Climmard adjusted his posture, sitting taller on his stool as his fingers danced across the guitar strings with growing fervor. A low hum vibrated in his chest before he let it bloom into the beginnings of a melody. Despite myself, I felt my curiosity stirring¡ªthough that might have been the beer.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the bespectacled woman with the quill had drawn a fresh sheet of parchment, her pen hovering above it like she was ready to transcribe something profound. Her previously scornful expression softened into one of reluctant interest, though her eyes remained sharp, poised to dissect whatever Climmard delivered.

    ¡°There hails a pretty princess, who was royalty adorned,

    Yet her father¡¯s soldiers despised her, hearts full of scorn!

    She broke all the laws, gave orders without cause,

    And threw raucous loud parties that left the made maids forlorn!

    O¡¯ Princess Ichni, you were a witch, unwilling to find someone to hitch!

    Yet rumors spread like her web, flowed in like the tides ebb,

    That no one would marry the b-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me!¡± Ichni shrieked, bursting from my gauntlet in a fiery display of indignation. Her usually pale magenta cheeks glowed crimson, her translucent form vibrating with rage. ¡°I threw one¡ªmaybe two¡ªparties, and suddenly I¡¯m the villain of the story?!¡±

    The tavern froze. The barkeep dropped his glass mid-polish, the sharp clink of it landing on the counter punctuating the moment. The woman with the quill dragged her pen across the parchment with an audible screech, her eyes snapping to the floating ghost. Even the two adventurers in the corner stopped mid-laugh to gape at the scene unfolding.

    Every pair of eyes in the tavern fixed on Ichni¡¯s translucent, fuming form. Her chibi-like visage hovered menacingly above my arm, her small hands clenched into fists as though she could physically throttle someone. Even Climmard, who had been strumming his guitar with all the enthusiasm of a bard mid-performance, froze mid-chord. His gaze flitted between Ichni and me before his grin widened into something almost manic.

    ¡°Never,¡± he began dramatically, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, ¡°in all my years would I have dreamed of meeting a fellow entertainer of such unparalleled talent!¡±

    Ichni and I turned to him in unison, shouting, ¡°What?!¡± The synchronized outburst only seemed to fuel his glee as he let out a high-pitched squeal of delight.

    ¡°What skill! What artistry!¡± Climmard declared, his arms outstretched in theatrical amazement. ¡°A spiritual ventriloquist, right here in this very tavern! How do you synchronize your lips and the ¡®puppet¡¯s¡¯ voice so perfectly? And the sheer coincidence of matching my song! Oh, it¡¯s genius! She¡¯s a professional-grade dummy!¡±

    ¡°Who are you calling a dummy, dummy?!¡± Ichni bellowed, flailing as I tried to shove her back into the gauntlet. If her goal was to prove she wasn¡¯t a puppet, it wasn¡¯t working¡ªat least not to Climmard, who looked utterly enraptured.

    ¡°Ahaha, apologies, Climmard! My puppet companion here gets a little cranky when she hasn¡¯t had her morning¡­ haunting,¡± I stammered, wincing as Ichni sunk her fanged ghostly teeth into my arm. A yelp escaped me, but I forced a grin, trying to salvage what remained of my dignity.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite alright, my friend. And you are¡­?¡± Climmard prompted, his tone suddenly inquisitive.

    ¡°Adrian. Adrian the Puppet Master!¡± I blurted, my mouth moving faster than my brain. With one arm, I struggled to wrestle Ichni back into the gauntlet, the other gesturing grandly as if to emphasize my supposed craft. How does a ghost who weighs literally nothing manage to put up such a fight?!

    ¡°Let me at him, Adrian! I¡¯ll rip out his throat and turn him into a proper mime!¡± Ichni screeched, writhing in my grip like an enraged, spectral ferret. I attempted what could only be described as a holy chokehold, though it was about as effective as trying to pin down a particularly slippery eel.

    ¡°You know, Adrian, it¡¯s terribly rude to interrupt such an outstanding performance,¡± Climmard quipped, a hint of mockery in his tone. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he added, ¡°That ¡®puppet¡¯ of yours certainly captures the princess¡¯s likeness. And her portrayal of a thick-headed idiot? Absolutely uncanny.¡±

    Ichni¡¯s glowing eyes narrowed to murderous slits. I could feel the wave of vengeful intent radiating from her as she lunged with all the force her spectral form could muster, clawing at the air like a cat who¡¯d just spotted a laser pointer. Before she could unleash her fury, I retreated hastily to the barkeep, who had a steaming soup-filled container waiting for me at the counter.

    ¡°This here¡¯s for Quen. She¡¯ll appreciate it, no doubt,¡± the barkeep said with a knowing nod, placing a small pouch atop the soup container. While I wrestled Ichni back into the gauntlet like a fisherman trying to reel in an unreasonably angry tuna, I managed a quick, grateful nod in his direction.

    ¡°Apologies, truly,¡± I muttered, my voice strained as I continued the futile tug-of-war. ¡°Once the show gets going, it¡¯s¡­ difficult to call curtains.¡±

    Ichni¡¯s ghostly form began to retract into the gauntlet, as though my sheer willpower was corralling her like a particularly unruly hen. The onlookers stared, transfixed, as her ethereal frame scraped against the floorboards, leaving an eerie sound of grinding wood in her wake. With a final defiant shriek, she was sucked into the red gem with a resounding thwoomph. Even then, muffled curses and venomous threats echoed faintly from within. She needed a timeout, desperately.

    ¡°I¡¯m Randy, by the way.¡± the barkeep said jovially. ¡° I¡¯d say pleased to meet ya, but we¡¯re good friends already if I recall?¡±

    ¡°Best friends until the tab¡¯s cleared,¡± I quipped with a grin. ¡°Adrian, as you heard.¡±

    Randy shook his head in mild disbelief, his expression a mix of bemusement and sympathy. ¡°You keep strange company, Adrian, but it¡¯s not my business. Get yourself an adventurer¡¯s card from the guild, and I¡¯ll set you up with a room. Pay it off when you can.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± I said, offering a grateful nod. ¡°I¡¯ll let you know if Quen sings praises of the chili.¡±

    ¡°Oh! Before you go¡ªhere.¡± Randy grabbed a wooden mug, ladled a generous portion of steaming chili from the pot, and slid it across the counter. The tantalizing aroma wafted up immediately. ¡°Might not hit the same without the spice or a spoon, but it¡¯ll keep you going. Bring the mug back when you¡¯re done.¡±

    This man deserved to have both sides of his pillow stay perpetually cool, I thought. Randy¡¯s tavern was practically a charity with a liquor license, though I couldn¡¯t shake the nagging suspicion that my debts might end up in the hands of some shady collector. Still, his genuine kindness shone through, and I bowed deeply with my mug of chili in hand.

    ¡°Thanks for everything, Randy. I¡¯ll do my best to keep the theatrics to a minimum next time,¡± I said, layering my gratitude thick.

    Randy¡¯s hearty laughter followed me out into the street, the faint buzz of beer warming me from within while the chili con carne radiated its own satisfying heat through the mug. From the corner of my eye, I could almost feel Ichni¡¯s piercing gaze boring into me from within the gem. I instinctively raised my arm, shielding my chest as if protecting myself from her inevitable wrath.

    ¡°You know, they say killing a bard is bad luck,¡± I sassed, taking a hearty sip of my chili before Ichni could launch into another tirade.

    ¡°You know what would really be unlucky?¡± Ichni retorted with malicious glee. ¡°If that muso croaked in his sleep, choking on his own guitar strings. Talking about my romantic life, hmph!¡±

    ¡°You really didn¡¯t want to get married?¡± I interjected, my tone casual as I navigated the cobbled street. The town was alive with the kind of understated bustle that comes with the early morning. Merchants wheeled carts laden with produce, their voices rising over one another as they advertised fresh apples, salted meats, and gleaming trinkets. A blacksmith across the way hammered rhythmically, sparks flying as he worked, while a baker swept the stoop of her shop, the smell of fresh bread drifting through the air.

    Most of the townsfolk appeared human, their expressions ranging from focused to cheerful as they went about their business. Still, the occasional canine-kin guard stood out. I passed a humanoid bloodhound leaning lazily against the wall, his droopy eyes half-closed and tongue lolling out in a comical display. He gave me a slow nod, as though sizing me up before deciding I wasn¡¯t worth the energy.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t want to get married,¡± Ichni replied with a heated sigh. ¡°It¡¯s that every so-called ¡®suitor¡¯ who tried to court me sucked major ass. Every eligible noble had the creepiest questions¡ªstuff like, ¡®Err herr, do you fancy some bondage in your free time?¡¯ or, ¡®Uh huh huh, m¡¯lady, where do the webs come from?¡¯¡± She shuddered theatrically. ¡°Blegh. One murakka after another, and I swear they all shared the same brain cell.¡±

    ¡°So, uh¡­¡± I ventured cautiously, my voice sheepish. ¡°I guess that means spider-related trivia is a no-go for date night conversations?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, go ahead, ask away. I¡¯m desensitized to it by now,¡± she groaned. ¡°Six legs, two arms. No, I won¡¯t eat you after the honeymoon. No, I don¡¯t lay eggs. Yes, bondage is fun if both of us consent. Yes, I like making web hammocks, and no, I don¡¯t paralyze my food and suck out the juice.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ where exactly do the webs come out?¡± I asked, my curiosity admittedly piqued, though my attention drifted to a striking demon woman loitering on the corner just ahead.

    ¡°You already saw, Adrian! I gather it from inside my cheeks, then I can pull it out and use it,¡± Ichni said, her tone dripping with exasperation. ¡°Seriously, how didn¡¯t you notice? Or are you still stuck on the ¡®barfing¡¯ detail you so eloquently decided to call it?¡±

    ¡°I thought the appropriate term was, and forgive me if I¡¯m wrong¡­ a spinneret?¡± I replied, recalling a factoid from my old-old life. For a moment, Ichni grew silent, her tiny face contorted as she tried to process my meaning.

    ¡°I¡­ Adrian! You absolute dimwit!¡± she finally shrieked, throwing her hands out of the gem in frustration.

    ¡°What? I said I was sorry!¡± I protested, coming to a stop as a donkey-drawn wagon rattled past, its wooden wheels groaning under the weight of stacked crates.

    ¡°The cheeks on my face, MY FACE!¡± she bellowed, her voice ringing loud enough to make a nearby bread merchant glance up, startled and searching for the wailing little princess.

    Admittedly, my focus had drifted from the conversation as I scanned the bustling street for any sign of Quen¡¯s blacksmithery. Though the town wasn¡¯t massive, its winding streets and clustered buildings could easily confuse an outsider like me. The air was filled with the chatter of townsfolk haggling at market stalls, the rhythmic hammering of a distant forge we passed, and the occasional bark of a dog. Children darted between vendors selling fresh produce and wares, their laughter cutting through the din.

    Finally, my eyes landed on a wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, its surface painted with a simple yet unmistakable image of an anvil with a crude caricature of an orc next to it. Relief washed over me. Just beyond the corner, near where the demon woman continued her idle posturing, stood my destination. Smiling in anticipation, I adjusted my grip on the gauntlet and pushed forward, my boots clicking against the cobblestone.

    ¡°Adrian!¡± Ichni¡¯s voice carried a sharp edge, her tiny hands tugging at my ear to pull the glove closer. ¡°Are you even paying attention? It¡¯s crucial that you understand¡ªI do NOT pull webs out of my butt!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s, uh¡­ enlightening,¡± I replied, my tone deliberately casual. Engaging further in this conversation was about as appealing as another chili-induced belch, which, despite its intensity, had filled me with a rare sense of warmth and contentment. Even Ichni¡¯s protests couldn¡¯t dampen the satisfaction from that meal.

    ¡°I mean it! The last thing I need is for even more rumors to spread! That clown in the tavern will twist my royal legacy into some third-rate musical mockery!¡± she fumed, and I could practically see her face pressed against the inside of the gem as her arms retracted, her cheeks puffed indignantly. ¡°I am a refined princess, Adrian, and it is my sacred duty to maintain a pristine and delicate public image!¡±

    Her words hung in the air with the unmistakable conviction of someone for whom death was a minor inconvenience in the face of tarnished reputation.

    As I approached what I hoped was Quen¡¯s blacksmith shop¡ªthe iron anvil on the sign was a good indicator¡ªI caught a clearer look at the demon I¡¯d been noticing earlier. She stood by the corner of the street like a work of art on display, her posture regal yet impossibly effortless. When her eyes met mine in a passing glance, I realized why I couldn¡¯t stop stealing glimpses of her.

    She was, without a doubt, stunning. Her skin carried a pale reddish hue, smooth and vibrant as though kissed by embers. Twin ram-like horns swept gracefully along her head, framing her long black hair, which fell in glossy sheets with straight bangs cutting sharply across her forehead. Her attire was a stark contrast to the modest dresses worn by the townsfolk. Crafted from luxurious silks, her dress clung provocatively, leaving little to the imagination, with a neckline that drew attention without apology. Around her neck hung a pearl necklace, each bead polished to perfection, centered with a crimson gem that glinted like a drop of molten ruby.

    She wasn¡¯t just beautiful¡ªshe exuded an aura of confidence and danger, like a jewel that belonged in a dragon¡¯s hoard. I had to remind myself not to stare, to move forward before my curiosity¡ªor my nerves¡ªbetrayed me.

    I couldn¡¯t tell if she was a succubus, an enchantress, or simply a heartbreaker by nature, but something about her presence sent my pulse racing in ways I hadn¡¯t felt since I first clawed my way out of the grave. My heart, usually dragging along like a worn-out drummer, suddenly decided to play the battle march: THUMP THUMP THUMP. It took every ounce of my willpower¡ªand the recollection of several holy scriptures¡ªto keep my thoughts in check.

    Remembering my last encounter with an alluring winged demoness, who had no qualms about nearly yeeting me into the afterlife, served as a useful warning. Not that my track record with dangerous women was sterling¡ªthere was Ichni, after all. But imagining the bratty princess in any romantic light was enough to churn my stomach and risk losing my hard-earned breakfast.

    ¡°Eh, Adrian? Why are you staring at that lady?¡± Ichni¡¯s voice came alive with a blurry grin I didn¡¯t even need to see. I could feel the smug satisfaction radiating from her. ¡°What¡¯s the deal? You into ladies of the night? Or are you one of those losers who thinks he¡¯s a pick-up artist but only ends up paying for attention?¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°She¡¯s just a hardworking woman,¡± I muttered defensively. ¡°Probably earns her keep, judging by that pearl necklace.¡± I adjusted my pace, trying to look disinterested, but as I glanced her way a second time, I froze mid-step.

    Her gaze had shifted, initially sharp with curiosity, but now twisted into an expression of revulsion as her eyes raked over my haggard appearance and rusted armor. The contempt on her face was palpable, like she¡¯d discovered something unpleasant on the bottom of her shoe. Then, as if to drive the dagger further, she made an exaggerated gagging sound and turned away, retreating across the street with a flair that was equal parts disdainful and dramatic.

    As I approached closer, the woman¡¯s disdain seemed to reach a boiling point. She sidestepped gracefully to the opposite corner of the street, her silken dress swaying with the motion. With her back firmly turned to me, she produced what looked like a thin, intricately carved cigarette and lit it with an elegant flick of her wrist. Her stance was calculated, her body language screaming, Stay away. She exhaled a cloud of smoke, turning her focus to a passing couple. With a sultry purr, she let out a loud, suggestive whistle. The couple blushed furiously and scurried away, leaving her with a satisfied smirk.

    ¡°Hey, Adrian,¡± Ichni broke the silence as I trudged forward, pretending the interaction hadn¡¯t happened. Her voice practically dripped with virulent glee. ¡°How¡¯s it feel that even a working girl wouldn¡¯t touch you?¡±

    Her words cut deeper than I cared to admit. It felt like she¡¯d reached over, taken my own sword, and stabbed me in the back with it. My expression twisted into something that could terrify even the most stoic of onlookers. Refusing to dignify her jab with a response, I kept walking, my pride dragging behind me like a beaten dog. My silence only fueled her laughter, the impish sound echoing in my ears as I reached the blacksmith¡¯s door.

    The door to the blacksmith¡¯s shop swung shut with a heavy clang behind me, its intricate metalwork catching the light of the forge inside. Heat wrapped around me like a stifling cloak, the kind of oppressive warmth I had grown accustomed to after countless visits to smithies during my old life as a Paladin. Blacksmiths and knights often shared a mutual respect, forged in the fires of battle and tempered by the understanding of how vital good equipment was to survival. While ideals sometimes clashed, especially with the more stubborn artisans, the appreciation for fine craftsmanship was universal.

    The interior was a testament to meticulous skill. Swords of varying designs lined the walls like a warrior¡¯s gallery, each blade showcasing a unique flourish or intricate hilt. Barrels brimming with simpler weapons stood at the edges, their plainness offset by their functional appeal. Shields, pikes, and other implements of war were scattered about, some resting on racks while others leaned haphazardly in the corners. Deeper in the shop, shelves groaned under the weight of raw materials¡ªiron, copper, and ores I couldn¡¯t immediately identify. Iron pipes twisted along the walls, their design both practical and oddly elegant. Open windows framed in steel trim allowed the suffocating heat to escape in fitful bursts, though the air still felt thick enough to cut with a blade.

    At the heart of it all stood the forge, a towering stone structure alive with the soft glow of embers. The occasional crackle of fire punctuated the rhythmic clang of a hammer. Before the roaring beast of the furnace stood a hulking figure. Green-skinned and broad-shouldered, she was a picture of raw strength. Her coarse black hair was tied into a practical ponytail that swung with her movements. A long, tan leather apron protected her muscular frame, its wear and tear telling the story of a lifetime of hard labor. The tusks jutting from her lower jaw, coupled with the faint scars that etched her arms, marked her as an orc.

    Her hands, encased in well-worn gauntlets, cradled a piece of iron ore as she examined it with the precision of a jeweler appraising a diamond. A pair of smudged goggles sat perched on her nose, their leather strap weathered from years of use. She hadn¡¯t noticed me yet, entirely engrossed in her craft.

    It didn¡¯t take a scholar to see that this woman could crush me like a tin can if I gave her cause. I stayed put, marveling at the controlled ferocity of her movements, a curious blend of artistry and brute force.

    ¡°Hmm, not much shimmer to it¡­ aye, barely any purity neither,¡± she muttered, her voice thick with a lilting, almost melodic brogue that rolled like a hammer on an anvil. ¡°Eh, this one¡¯ll make a doorknob at best.¡±

    She clasped the ore tightly in her gauntleted hands, and what happened next floored me. Her arms began to glow, a fiery orange hue radiating from her forearms. A rune etched into her right arm flared to life, its intricate design pulsing as if it drew breath. The heat emanating from her hands was palpable even from where I stood, and the iron in her grasp began to melt away impurities like butter on a skillet. With practiced ease, she shaped the molten metal into a rough sphere before tossing it into the forge to finish the job.

    ¡°Wow,¡± I blurted out before I could stop myself. The single word slipped past my lips, and her head jerked up. Her keen gray eyes, previously hidden behind soot-smudged goggles, locked onto me with a calculating sharpness.

    ¡°Hmmm? Who¡¯s this, then?¡± she rumbled, straightening up. Her height became all the more apparent as she loomed over the forge, her hands now casually brushing off molten residue as if it were dirt.

    ¡°Uh¡ª¡± I started, but she cut me off with a grin that could have split an anvil.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t just stand there gawkin¡¯ like a lost lamb! Come on in!¡± she said, motioning toward a nearby workbench chair. Her voice carried that same hearty accent, with every word ringing like it belonged to a storyteller or a tavern brawler. ¡°I¡¯m just temperin¡¯ a bit o¡¯ scrap. Open a window if y¡¯ can¡¯t take the heat!¡±

    I obeyed without hesitation, pulling open one of the steel-framed windows. The faint relief of cooler air was a blessing, but the orc¡¯s confidence and sheer presence were even more overpowering than the forge¡¯s fire.

    As I opened the window and took a step closer, I caught sight of her plunging her gauntleted hand directly into the fiery coals of the forge. Not a flinch. Not even a wince. Her hand moved with the precision of a craftsman, stirring the embers until they roared with life. The runes etched into her gauntlet glowed like molten gold, channeling an intense heat that seemed to energize the entire forge.

    My jaw went slack. Holy shit. In all the chaos I¡¯d seen since landing in this bizarre world, I still hadn¡¯t encountered anyone openly flaunting such controlled magical prowess. Yet here she was, casually treating fire like it was her obedient pet.

    ¡°You¡¯re not even using bellows! How in the world are you casting that fire magic?¡± I stammered, my voice almost cracking.

    Quen raised an eyebrow as she pulled her glowing hand from the coals, steam hissing off the metal surface of her gauntlet. She looked at me like I¡¯d just asked if steel could bend.

    ¡°It¡¯s no magic, lad. It¡¯s an Element,¡± she said matter-of-factly, her accent wrapping the word with an almost reverent weight. ¡°Fire, in my case. You¡¯d think a smith o¡¯ my caliber¡¯d leave heat to chance?¡±

    Ichni popped up from my shoulder, her face lit with childlike wonder. ¡°No way! An Elemental smith! I haven¡¯t seen anyone work with fire like this in ages!¡± Her little hands pressed against my neck as she leaned forward to get a better look.

    ¡°An Element, huh?¡± I said, my voice catching as I recalled the word from somewhere deep in my past. Recognition tickled the back of my mind, but I wasn¡¯t sure why. This wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯d heard of Elements, but it felt¡­ different now. Significant. And powerful.

    ¡°So, what brings ya, stranger. And¡­ the wee one.¡± Quen¡¯s gravelly voice carried a tone of suspicion as her sharp gray eyes flicked to Ichni, narrowing slightly. With a deliberate, almost theatrical motion, she plunged her gauntlet into a nearby bucket of water, steam hissing and rising in angry wisps. Ichni instinctively shrank behind me, her ethereal form shimmering faintly like she was trying to camouflage.

    The orc sniffed, unimpressed, and turned her attention back to me as though a ghost was just another Tuesday for her. So, ghosts are normal here? I mused, trying to process this world¡¯s bizarre levels of normalcy.

    ¡°Well then, what¡¯s got yer sorry hides in my forge today?¡± she asked, her tone brisk as she snagged a cloth from her workbench and began scrubbing her hands clean, though I noticed the gauntlets stayed firmly in place. She grabbed a nearby chair, spun it with ease, and plopped it down across from me, motioning for me to speak.

    I pointed shakily at her forge, still in awe. ¡°You¡ªyou were shooting fire out of your hand just now! An Element! That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s incredible!¡±

    Quen snorted, tugging her soot-streaked goggles up to her forehead. Her piercing eyes bore into me with the intensity of a jeweler appraising a tarnished coin. Whatever hope I had of making a strong first impression vanished as her lips twisted into a wry smirk. ¡°Incredible? Lad, it¡¯s just another day fer me. Don¡¯t be gawpin¡¯ like you¡¯ve never seen a proper Element put to work.¡±

    Her gaze lingered on me for a beat longer, then softened, almost like she was humoring a particularly clueless customer. Well, that¡¯s fair, I thought bitterly. I looked like a corpse playing knight, but that was exactly why I was here.

    Quen let out a bark of laughter, rough and hearty. ¡°Caught yer jaw hangin¡¯, eh? Ain¡¯t often folk don¡¯t know what a proper smith with a gift can do.¡± She flexed her fingers, the faint glow of residual heat still radiating from her hands. ¡°But don¡¯t go thinkin¡¯ it¡¯s all me. It¡¯s these beauties.¡± She held up her hands, the gauntlets gleaming in the forge light.

    ¡°See this?¡± she said, tapping the metallic plates embedded in the palms of her fingerless gloves. ¡°These ain¡¯t no cheap bits. They channel flame from the core of yer Element. Amplifies it. Makes it steady, reliable.¡±

    I leaned in, studying the craftsmanship. The gauntlets looked worn but sturdy, etched with intricate runes that shimmered faintly as they cooled. Her fingers were calloused and scarred, a testament to years of hammering steel into submission. There was an unspoken respect for her dedication to the craft, and I found myself nodding in admiration.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ incredible,¡± I said honestly, my voice tinged with awe. ¡°Like a superpower, almost.¡±

    Quen smirked, her tusks glinting as she planted her hands on her hips. ¡°Aye, superpower if yer daft. It¡¯s called skill, lad. You¡¯ve heard o¡¯ that, yeah? Takes years o¡¯ blistered hands an¡¯ burnt brows, but worth every cussin¡¯ moment.¡±

    Ichni perched on my shoulder like some mischievous, crimson-haired owl, her whisper tickling my ear. ¡°You¡¯re tellin¡¯ me you¡¯ve never worked with an Element? Seriously?¡±

    The word struck a chord, one I hadn¡¯t expected to hear in this world. Back in my old life¡ªthe Paladin life¡ªElements had been our equivalent of magic. Controlled and refined, they were the tools of the chosen. Prince Ramel, for example, was a Veteran-Class Earth Element wielder, just a step beneath the elusive Master-Class. Mastering an Element wasn¡¯t a hobby; it was a grueling, lifelong pursuit, requiring compatibility, discipline, and access to one of the sacred shrines.

    Hearing that word again sent a flicker of something¡ªnostalgia, maybe longing¡ªthrough me. I hadn¡¯t even considered if this world¡¯s Elements were the same as the ones I¡¯d spent years training with. Could I still wield one? Would I even qualify in my current¡­ state?

    Back then, I was proud¡ªarrogantly so, perhaps¡ªto have achieved compatibility with Aether, the fifth and most revered Element. For us Holy Knights, it wasn¡¯t just a blessing; it was an expectation, a marker of the finest warriors the light could muster. Aether wasn¡¯t merely rare¡ªit was sacred, and only the most disciplined were deemed worthy of its power.

    I¡¯d been Hero-Class, wielding the divine greatsword Chandrabolg with the kind of confidence that came from absolute faith in my purpose. Yet now? I wasn¡¯t even Novice-Class. The truth stung, though I couldn¡¯t explain why. Even without Chandrabolg, I¡¯d been able to channel healing and smiting magic in my past life. But in this twisted, half-dead state, something fundamental was¡­ missing. Was it my connection to Aether that had been severed? Or had the very rune that bonded me to it failed to follow my soul into this strange existence?

    The thought gnawed at me, leaving a hollow ache that even my quest couldn¡¯t quite fill.

    Was this even my body? I had always assumed that when the Four-Lights¡ªblessed be their eternal wisdom¡ªdragged me back to this fractured existence, I had retained some semblance of my original self. This form felt like me, sure enough. My heart still pounded, though erratically, and my hands bore the same callouses I remembered earning in life. Yet, the doubts lingered. Was this the body I knew? Or some pale imitation pieced together from memory and necessity? Even the oath I swore to them should have restored some remnant of the Element.

    It wasn¡¯t as jarring as my first reincarnation¡ªgoing from a bloated, slothful waste of space in my first life to a screaming, helpless infant in my redemption arc life¡ªbut the unfamiliarity dug deeper here. Back then, I had time to grow into something new. Now? Now, I was stuck with a shell that didn¡¯t quite fit.

    Then another thought struck me like a hammer on an anvil. Elements¡­ shrines¡­ the Four-Lights. What if they weren¡¯t just the divine figures I¡¯d always revered? What if they were connected to the primary Elements, acting as sages or protectors? Their forms¡ªtheir colors¡ªthey weren¡¯t arbitrary. The idea felt uncomfortably plausible, and it opened a door I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to walk through.

    Maybe their story was more complex than even Ichni¡¯s cynicism dared suspect.

    Ichni snapped her fingers an inch from my nose, jarring me from my spiraling thoughts. ¡°Oi, Adrian? Elements¡ªheard of ¡¯em? Why are you drooling?¡± Her tone flipped from irritation to mockery in a heartbeat. ¡°You know you can¡¯t eat them, right? Or¡­ maybe you can? I wouldn¡¯t put it past you.¡±

    I blinked, trying to shake the fog out of my head. ¡°Yeah, yeah. I¡¯ve heard of them,¡± I muttered. ¡°I even dabbled with one once, but that was before¡­ you know.¡± My voice dipped, heavy with regret. ¡°Before I came back from the dead.¡±

    ¡°Resurrected, eh?¡± Quen interjected, her gray eyes narrowing as she sized me up again. ¡°Well, that explains why you look like a walkin¡¯ corpse. Y¡¯know, if you¡¯d been shamblin¡¯ in earlier like that, I might¡¯ve just chased ya off with a poker instead.¡±

    Her bluntness hit harder than her hammer could¡¯ve. I glared at her, frustration bubbling to the surface. ¡°I¡¯m quite alive, thank you very much,¡± I growled, teeth grit. If I had to hear one more snarky comment about my undead aesthetic, I was going to lose it. Still, the stigma clung to me like grave dirt, no matter how vehemently I protested.

    ¡°Nah, no shame in bein¡¯ undead. Plenty o¡¯ folks like that around these parts,¡± Quen said casually, like she was remarking on the weather. Her sharp eyes caught sight of the container in my hands, and her nostrils flared. ¡°Though I gotta ask¡­ what¡¯s that smell?¡±

    ¡°Oh, this?¡± I held the box out toward her. ¡°It¡¯s from Randy over at the Bronze Rooster. Thought you could use a bite.¡±

    Her entire demeanor shifted in an instant. ¡°FOOD?!¡± she bellowed, her voice hitting a guttural note that could¡¯ve scared off wild beasts. Like a predator pouncing on its prey, she snatched the container with surprising agility. Before I could even process what had just happened, a spoon appeared in her massive hand¡ªseemingly conjured from thin air. She pried the lid off and inhaled deeply, her expression an intense mix of curiosity and anticipation.

    ¡°Mmm. Hmm¡­¡± Quen¡¯s voice dropped, her eyes narrowing as though she were evaluating a priceless artifact.

    Noticing her hesitation, I reached into my pack and pulled out the small sack of special spice Randy had slipped in. With the enthusiasm of a child unwrapping presents, Quen snatched it from my hand and began pouring the pungent powder in heavy heaps over the food. The moment the first whiff of spice hit my nose, my eyes watered. The scent was so aggressive it felt like it could peel paint off a wall or even serve as a makeshift weapon in a siege.

    As for Quen, the more unhinged the spice level, the happier she seemed. Whatever tolerance she had built over the years bordered on masochistic culinary genius. She wasted no time shoveling the now molten chili into her mouth, tears streaming down her face in a bizarre mix of agony and ecstasy.

    ¡°Mmph¡ªmmm! Tha¡¯s tha stuff!¡± she mumbled between bites, her voice muffled but filled with pure joy.

    I quietly tucked the remaining pouch of spice back into my pack, vowing to try it another time when I was feeling particularly brave¡ªor insane. Meanwhile, I let Quen have her moment, the room filled with the sound of her delighted smacking and muffled sniffling.

    Quen wiped at her teary eyes with the back of her hand, still shoveling spoonful after spoonful of the fire-laden chili into her mouth. Her sniffles were like the whistle of a steaming kettle, and the way she powered through each bite suggested she might not have eaten in days¡ªor maybe this was just her idea of a perfect meal.

    ¡°Blimey,¡± she managed to grunt through a mouthful, ¡°tha¡¯s proper spice! Jus¡¯ what the soul needs. Good on ya fer bringin¡¯ it.¡±

    I offered a weak smile, trying to avoid getting too close to the chili¡¯s lingering fumes. Even from this distance, they prickled my eyes and made me question the strength of my own stomach.

    Quen pointed at me mid-chew, her calloused finger aimed as directly as her voice. ¡°You,¡± she said, swallowing hard. ¡°Name?¡±

    ¡°Adrian Legend,¡± I replied with a small bow. ¡°At your service.¡±

    Quen nodded in acknowledgment, her sharp tusks framing a toothy grin. She slid the bowl slightly toward me with a glint of mischief in her eye. ¡°Name¡¯s Quen. Cheers fer the meal. Fancy a bite?¡±

    Her tone was casual, but the way her gaze clung protectively to the bowl made it clear: sharing was an offer of courtesy, not genuine intent. I glanced down at the steaming concoction, now more science experiment than meal, and felt my throat burn just imagining a single taste. My eyes were already watering from the spice cloud wafting my way.

    ¡°Uh, no thanks,¡± I said quickly, raising the empty wooden mug I¡¯d brought. ¡°I already had some earlier. It¡¯s all yours!¡±

    Quen gave a satisfied hum before pulling the bowl back toward her, diving in with renewed vigor.

    Quen nodded with each bite, utterly absorbed in her feast, the contents of the bowl disappearing at a speed that could only be described as ravenous efficiency. It struck me that her nonchalance might have stemmed from the food itself; after all, someone who feeds you without strings attached rarely invites suspicion.

    Whatever the case, she didn¡¯t spare Ichni so much as a second glance, even as the little ghost hovered near my shoulder, glaring like she¡¯d been insulted. Whether it was because of Ichni¡¯s diminutive form or because her royal presence was utterly lost on the orc, no recognition flickered across Quen¡¯s face.

    Ichni puffed her cheeks indignantly, her crimson eyes fixed on the rapidly dwindling chili. As Quen scooped up the last spoonful, Ichni unconsciously mimicked the motion, licking phantom lips and swallowing air as though she could will the taste into her own mouth.

    ¡°You okay there, Princess?¡± I asked, arching a brow.

    Realizing I¡¯d caught her in the act, she flinched, her magenta face darkening to a vivid plum, the blush spreading across her cheeks like spilled ink. ¡°W-what?! No! Mind your business, you scrawny murakka!¡± she stammered, her voice sharp but faltering under the weight of her embarrassment. She crossed her arms, her glowing skin betraying her indignation as she glared at me with the sulky defiance of a petulant toddler.

    ¡°Sure thing, Your Highness,¡± I murmured under my breath, suppressing a chuckle.

    With a belch that could have been classified as an act of war, Quen wiped away the tears and snot streaming from her face with a rag so well-used it might as well have been her battle flag. The acrid scent of her chili-induced spice binge still lingered in the air as she finally leaned back, visibly content despite the mess she¡¯d made of herself.

    ¡°Ahh, that hit the spot,¡± she said, plucking a stubborn piece of meat from between her tusks. ¡°Yeah, I got blessed with the flame Element long ago, back when I was servin¡¯ my time o¡¯er at the Makka Makka Mines.¡±

    Her casual tone was almost as impressive as the revelation.

    ¡°The shrines here are the real deal too, huh?¡± I asked, my thoughts wandering to what it might feel like to harness that kind of raw power. Fire-breathing like a dragon sounded like a useful upgrade.

    Quen nodded, examining her gauntlet as if reliving old memories. ¡°Aye, but that was a long time ago. That shrine¡¯s been locked up tighter than a miser¡¯s vault, thanks to ol¡¯ Bernie. Lazy old cow.¡±

    Ichni, who had been idly swinging her tail from my shoulder, perked up at the mention of the name. ¡°Wait¡ªBernie? That hairy buffoon¡¯s still running the mines?¡± she asked, her tone laced with incredulity.

    Quen snorted, spitting the bit of meat she¡¯d been working out straight into the forge. The sizzling sound punctuated her obvious disdain. ¡°Yep. Still runnin¡¯ the place last I heard. Doubt he¡¯s gotten himself the sack yet, ¡®specially since he¡¯s got some poor oger to take the blame every time somethin¡¯ goes sideways.¡±

    Bernie. The name etched itself into my mental list of future headaches, even if I didn¡¯t know the extent of what it implied yet. All I could do now was focus on the here and now¡ªlike the fact that I was armed with rusted junk and dreams of grandeur. A proper sword, a decent set of armor, maybe even a shield... all felt like pipe dreams at this point.

    As if reading my thoughts, Quen clapped her massive hands together with a resounding clang, like a smith striking an anvil. ¡°Well, ain¡¯t you lookin¡¯ like a beggar crashin¡¯ a knight¡¯s feast,¡± she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°That there¡¯s some proper shite armor, sunshine. Held together with spit an¡¯ sheer bloody-mindedness, is it?¡±

    ¡°I, uh¡­ yeah.¡± I glanced down at my battered breastplate and then back at her, deciding it was best not to argue. ¡°I need a sword, specifically. Your best one.¡±

    Quen leaned against a workbench, her tusks framing a sly, toothy grin. ¡°Best, eh? Well, ain¡¯t you got a bit o¡¯ taste!¡± she drawled, her words laced with pride. ¡°Congratulations, luv, you¡¯ve stumbled inta the only smithy in this realm that¡¯s worth its weight in steel. I don¡¯t just make weapons¡ªI forge legends. An¡¯ anyone says otherwise?¡± She let out a barking laugh, slapping her knee for emphasis. ¡°They¡¯re naught but a rusty nail tryin¡¯ to call itself a blade!¡±

    ¡°Right, then.¡± I straightened up, brushing the dust from my battered armor as I prepared to pitch myself like a legendary hero¡ªat least, one who didn¡¯t look like he just crawled out of a ditch. Setting the tone for what I was about to ask was vital.

    ¡°I am Adrian Legend,¡± I declared, voice steady. ¡°A Paladin on the path to reclaim my humanity and bring salvation to this world. A Seeker of the Lights.¡±

    Quen froze, who was turned halfway to suggest a sword, before turning to stare at me like I¡¯d sprouted a second head. Her lop-sided grin widened ever so slightly.

    From my shoulder, Ichni erupted into peals of laughter, her magenta face flushed with unrestrained glee. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s rich!¡± she choked out between gasps. ¡°The Seeker of the Lights! You absolute murakka!¡±

    ¡°W-what? It¡¯s true!¡± I shot back, waving a hand at her in a futile attempt to silence her.

    Quen, still leaning casually against her workbench, let out a deep, throaty chuckle. ¡°Seeker o¡¯ the Lights, eh?¡± she drawled, her accent rolling thick as molten metal. ¡°Proper fancy-like. What next, ye gonna tell me yer here to save a damsel and slay a big ol¡¯ dragon? Maybe write a ballad ¡®bout it after, aye?¡±

    I felt my cheeks burn as her words cut straight through my flimsy attempt at dignity. Before I could stammer out a defense, she held up a gauntleted hand, the rune etched into her forearm still faintly glowing.

    ¡°Right, right. ¡®Course y¡¯are, mate,¡± she continued, her grin softening just slightly. ¡°But lemme ask ye this¡ªwhat kinda coin ye got fer this shiny sword yer lookin¡¯ ta swing ¡®round, eh?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± I began, mustering as much humility as I could. This was the crux of the problem, and I hated admitting it. ¡°I actually don¡¯t have any gold.¡±

    Quen let out a bark of laughter, sharp and guttural. ¡°Gold? Oh, luv, I¡¯d hope not! Carryin¡¯ gold¡¯s as good as paintin¡¯ a target on yer back. I might¡¯ve had to call the royal guards on ya!¡±

    I blinked, utterly floored. Out of all possible reactions¡ªpity, rejection, maybe begrudging charity¡ªthis was the absolute last thing I expected. ¡°For having some change? How does that make any sense?¡±

    Quen raised an eyebrow, looking at me like I¡¯d just asked why fire was hot. ¡°Gold¡¯s been banned fer years, sunshine. Thought everyone and their gran knew that.¡±

    Ichni popped out, her smug grin dialed up to eleven. ¡°You really didn¡¯t know? Even a murakka living under a rock would¡¯ve heard about that one, Adrian.¡±

    ¡°Why do you keep assuming I know this stuff?!¡± I sputtered, throwing my arms up in helpless frustration. ¡°I¡¯m clearly not from around here!¡±

    Ichni¡¯s grin widened, pure mischief in her eyes. ¡°Are you aware the sky is often blue?¡±

    My temper flared, and I leaned toward her with a hiss. ¡°Do you want to end up in a rummage sale?¡±

    As the sparks between Ichni and me fizzled out, Quen rolled her eyes, moving toward a barrel of ore. She gave its contents a cursory glance before turning back with a huff. ¡°Alright, enough drama. Let¡¯s get to the point¡ªhow much silver do ya got?¡±

    ¡°None,¡± I admitted without hesitation, trying to keep my face stoic. It wasn¡¯t like she could confiscate dignity I didn¡¯t have.

    Quen¡¯s gray eyes narrowed, her expression as sharp as the blades on her walls. ¡°Right¡­ and metal ore? Got anythin¡¯ shiny to barter with? I ain¡¯t no bleeding charity, but I¡¯m willin¡¯ to make a deal.¡±

    This was it. Time for drastic measures. I dropped to my knees, pressing my forehead to the dusty floor like a desperate pilgrim.

    ¡°In terms of metal ore, we have¡­ absolutely none.¡± My voice was low, laden with what little shame I could muster. Ichni, ever the supportive companion, plopped herself on my back like a loyal house cat.

    A suffocating silence blanketed the room, broken only by the steady crackle of the furnace. I dared a glance up, expecting the heat to be the source of the hissing sound, but no¡ªit was Quen¡¯s gauntlet, glowing hot as it scorched a molten line into the edge of her workbench. Her gaze bore into me with the intensity of a blacksmith tempering steel, and I suddenly felt like a rod about to snap under the hammer.

    ¡°Do I look like a bloody charity t¡¯ you, boy?¡± she bellowed, flipping the table in one clean motion. Tools and shards of ore scattered across the floor with a deafening clatter, while I scrambled to plant my forehead back on the ground like it might shield me from her wrath.

    ¡°No, Lady Quen, of course not¡ªyou''re just doing your job¡ª¡± I stammered, but her sharp click of the tongue sliced through my words like a blade through parchment.

    ¡°Tch. Lady Quen. Yer damn right I¡¯m doin¡¯ my job! A damn fine one, too!¡± she snarled, her accent cutting through the room like a forge¡¯s hiss. ¡°And this job, lad, it don¡¯t run on goodwill and daydreams. Didja really think ya could waltz in here an¡¯ grab a sword for free?¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± I pleaded, my voice strained with desperation. ¡°It¡¯s vital I get a weapon. My duty to the Four-Lights¡ª¡±

    ¡°Duty to the lights, my arse! Then ask yer precious lights for some bloody silver!¡± Quen hissed, her voice reverberating like a hammer striking iron. Righting the overturned table with one hand, she jabbed a finger in my direction, her tusks gleaming under the forge¡¯s glow. ¡°Don¡¯t need no ¡®illuminutty¡¯ slag wanderin¡¯ in, disruptin¡¯ my work. Now git! Out, ya daft beggar!¡±

    Before I could respond, a broom smacked me square in the face, jarring me back to reality. She wasn¡¯t just chasing me out¡ªshe was sweeping me out like a pile of forge scraps. Ichni, ever the troublemaker, clawed at the broom with the vigor of an angry alley cat, her shrill protests mixing with the scrape of the bristles against the floor.

    ¡°Hey, stop that!¡± I protested, holding my ground until the broom¡¯s handle rammed me with enough force to send me flipping backward. I landed sprawled on the floor a good two meters away, staring up at Quen¡¯s imposing figure. Her gray eyes burned with such intensity they looked bloodshot, and I swore for a moment I might see smoke rising from her flared nostrils.

    ¡°I¡­ I implore you¡­ to reconsider.¡± My voice was shaky but firm, even as her calloused hand clamped onto my breastplate and yanked me clean off the floor.

    The metal creaked under the strain of her grip, and I dangled like a rag doll as her fierce gray eyes bore into mine. ¡°How about you reconsider yer ass out my shop?¡± she growled, her voice low and deliberate. ¡°Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn¡¯t toss ya into the street¡ªor better yet, melt yer sorry hide down with that tin can you¡¯re wearin¡¯!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ here because I need to be,¡± I replied, my tone flat but unyielding, meeting her glare with hollow resolve. For a moment, she searched my expression, her brow furrowed as if debating whether to follow through on her threat or grant me mercy.

    With a sharp exhale, she dropped me unceremoniously back to the ground, my boots hitting the stone floor with a heavy thud. ¡°Yer a stubborn git, I¡¯ll give ya that,¡± she muttered, shaking her head. ¡°But stubborn don¡¯t pay the bills.¡±

    ¡°Just get out, ¡®Paladin.¡¯ There ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ for ya here,¡± she said brusquely, turning her back to me and picking up a set of tongs. ¡°Hate to sound cruel, but this is a business, not a charity. King Malphas is expectin¡¯ a dozen blackmetal spears by week¡¯s end, and I ain¡¯t got time to waste on freeloaders.¡±

    Her words were final, cutting through any lingering hope I had. My eyes darted to the barrel of swords near the door. For a fleeting second, the thought of grabbing one and bolting crossed my mind, but I crushed it just as quickly. That wasn¡¯t how I¡¯d been taught to handle my problems¡ªno matter how desperate I felt.

    ¡°How about just a plain sword? I¡¯ll pay you back, I promise,¡± I said, hoping sincerity would carry the weight my wallet couldn¡¯t. ¡°I¡¯m heading to the adventurer¡¯s guild next. I¡¯ll pick up a few jobs, earn some silver, and make it worth your while.¡±

    Quen snorted, still focused on a chunk of metal she was shaping. ¡°Talk¡¯s cheap, luv,¡± she said, her words slow and thick like cooling tar. ¡°Cheap enough even a broke sod like you can sling it around. But words don¡¯t keep my furnace burnin¡¯, now do they?¡±

    I was crushed. The hopeful bubble I¡¯d inflated¡ªconvincing myself I could walk out with a sword on credit¡ªpopped with a resounding thud. It¡¯s not like I had an account with the Demon Finances Credit Union. Quen was right. Talk was cheap, and I had nothing but hot air.

    ¡°Adrian, how about you¡­ pawn me off?¡± Ichni¡¯s voice floated from my shoulder like an errant breeze.

    I blinked, turning to her, completely thrown. ¡°What?¡±

    Ichni hovered midair, her ethereal form folding in thought. She looked conflicted, as though her suggestion had unsettled even her. For a moment, the forge fell silent; even Quen paused, her fiery temper seemingly cooled by sheer surprise.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I asked, my voice sharp with disbelief. ¡°I¡¯m not pawning off my own ally. You¡¯re worth more than that.¡± I pulled her aside, lowering my voice as though shielding her absurd idea from the world.

    ¡°Think about it,¡± Ichni pressed, floating closer. ¡°This gauntlet, with the fancy ruby? It¡¯s gotta be worth enough silver to get you something decent. Then you go, do your little ¡®hero thing,¡¯ earn some coin, and buy me back. Easy. I¡¯d just chill inside the gauntlet the whole time¡ªno one would even know.¡±

    Her logic wasn¡¯t entirely flawed, but I shook my head without hesitation. ¡°Even if the king himself offered his castle in exchange, the answer would still be no. As long as you¡¯re willing to stick by me, I won¡¯t give you up. Not for money, not for anything.¡±

    Ichni stared at me, her expression twisting as if my words were physically painful. ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous,¡± she muttered.

    I crossed my arms, unfazed. ¡°Call me whatever you want, but a Paladin doesn¡¯t abandon their own. That¡¯s just how it is.¡±

    Ichni gave me a look that screamed, ¡°Can you stop being so dramatic?¡± but I pressed on anyway. ¡°We don¡¯t abandon the weak. We don¡¯t leave our friends behind. We are the first to step forward when someone asks for help. And when we step forward¡ª¡±

    ¡°We do so to leave a path for others to follow.¡± The interruption caught me off guard, and I turned to see Quen, her arms crossed and a flicker of respect lighting her eyes.

    ¡°Wait, how did you¡ª?¡± I stammered, unsure how this orc smith knew the words I had once held so sacred.

    Quen¡¯s expression softened, her tusks framing a faint smile as she shook her head. ¡°Somethin¡¯ me old man used to say. Came from a storybook he read to us when we were kids, about a hero and his impossible quest.¡± Her voice held a wistful tone, as if the memory had caught her off guard too.

    Her words left me momentarily stunned. The odds of a children¡¯s tale sharing the same mantra my master had drilled into me seemed laughably small, yet here it was, spoken by a smith in a demon kingdom.

    Coincidence? Or were there more threads connecting my two lives than I dared imagine?

    Quen seemed to notice my lingering awe and gave a sharp, barked laugh. ¡°Alright, Mr. Hero,¡± she said, her grin widening into something playful. ¡°Don¡¯t be sellin¡¯ off yer ghostly girlfriend just yet. I¡¯ll help ya out¡ªthough if yer both plannin¡¯ on more holy vows, leave me outta it, yeah?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not his girlfriend!¡± Ichni snapped, her face flushing a deep magenta. ¡°I¡¯m literally his prisoner!¡±

    ¡°Prisoner o¡¯ love, maybe!¡± Quen teased, one of her tusks catching the light as her grin widened. ¡°The way ya glare at him? Oh, you¡¯re foolin¡¯ nobody, squirt.¡±

    Ichni¡¯s blush darkened further as she whipped her head toward me, desperate for an ally. Her expression screamed, Do something! But I wasn¡¯t about to let my shot at a sword get derailed. I shrugged nonchalantly and muttered, ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated.¡±

    Her face twisted in a mix of outrage and betrayal. ¡°You murakka!¡± she shrieked, flailing her arms wildly. In her tantrum, she knocked over a nearby cup, its clatter punctuating her frustration, before retreating into the gauntlet with a loud thwoomp!

    ¡°¡¯Til death do us part,¡± I quipped with a sheepish grin.

    Quen burst into hearty laughter, clapping her hands like she¡¯d just heard the best joke of the week. ¡°Now yer talkin¡¯ like a proper hero! Keep that cheek up, kid¡ªit suits ya.¡±

    ¡°Better than this damned trash can I¡¯m wearing!¡± I shot back playfully. She eyed me slyly at me at the remark, and a new sense of respect came between us.

    ¡°Now we¡¯re gettin¡¯ somewhere.¡± Quen reached into one of the barrels near her workstation, pulled out a sword, and tossed it my way with an effortless flick of her wrist. I caught it midair, gripping the hilt tightly as I gave it a few practice swings. It wasn¡¯t flashy or grand, but it felt solid¡ªdependable.

    ¡°How much am I looking at for this?¡± I ventured cautiously, bracing for the worst.

    ¡°That¡¯s on loan,¡± Quen declared, crossing her thick arms with a smirk. ¡°Bring it back when ya can afford somethin¡¯ proper. If yer keen on the fire Element like I got, there¡¯s a blade tailor-made fer that, but it¡¯ll cost ya more silver than you¡¯ll see with your princess workin¡¯ the streets.¡±

    The mental image that conjured was so absurd I nearly dropped the sword. I¡¯m starting to think that Quen had the wrong idea, like Ichni was going to sit on the streets and give royal ghost handies for sword money. I imagined myself, a holy pimp hiding in a barrel while Ichni tried catcalling and pedaling her ¡®services¡¯.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll just have to take on the biggest job in town then, won¡¯t I?¡± I replied, shaking off the ridiculous thought. Straightening up, I brought my arm across my chest in a gesture of sincerity. ¡°By my honor, I¡¯ll repay this debt.¡±

    ¡°Right, right, but don¡¯t be skippin¡¯ town on me now, Mr. Hero.¡± Quen¡¯s grin widened as she tossed something at me¡ªa flash of silver catching the dim light. I failed to catch it cleanly, and the coin smacked off my forehead before I snatched it out of the air. It was a silver coin! I bit down experimentally, confirming its authenticity.

    ¡°For yer meal,¡± Quen said casually, already returning her attention to her workbench. ¡°Hand it off to Randy, and he¡¯ll set ya up with a place to sleep fer a bit. Good man, that one. And don¡¯t you dare go sayin¡¯ I never did nothin¡¯ for ya, y¡¯hear?¡±

    I offered a deep, grateful bow, a gesture I felt was becoming all too frequent. With my new sword secure, I straightened up, my determination renewed. The days of scraping by as a penniless wanderer were over. It was time to step forward and claim my place as a real adventurer.

 Chapter 13: Making A Name

    With a spring in my step that was equal parts optimism and desperation, I left the shop and scanned the streets for any sign of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Maybe a dramatic signboard with a sword and shield? A building oozing charisma and heroics? Nope. The only thing catching my eye was the demon woman. For the second time now, she crossed the street like I was carrying a contagious disease. At this point, I wondered if her pearl necklace doubled as a talisman against broke adventurers.

    Realizing my aimless wandering wouldn¡¯t get me far, I approached a nearby guard. This one was a Bulldog-woman who looked like she could either direct me to the Guild or wrestle a bear on her lunch break. Her piercing eyes scanned me like I was one bad decision away from a reprimand, but she remained professional.

    ¡°Adventurer¡¯s Guild?¡± I asked, trying not to sound too hopeless.

    She gave a curt nod and jabbed a thick finger down a series of side streets. ¡°Couple turns that way. South side. Can¡¯t miss it.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I replied, setting off. Though, given my luck, I fully expected to somehow miss it anyway.

    Crossing the main road, I once again managed to send the demon woman scuttling off like I was some sort of eldritch horror. If this continued, I was going to have to start charging her for cardio sessions. With a sigh, I held my arm up to talk to Ichni, trying to look casual but probably resembling someone mid-heart attack.

    ¡°Hey, Ichni,¡± I murmured, glancing around to make sure no one thought I was yelling at my glove. ¡°You know I was joking, right? About the whole ¡®prisoner¡¯ thing. I know you¡¯re not here by choice.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± she said simply, her tone somewhere between bored and tired of me.

    ¡°And if you wanted me to drop the gauntlet off to someone you trusted, I would absolutely do that for you,¡± I pressed, my voice soft with what I thought was heartfelt sincerity.

    ¡°I¡­ know.¡±

    ¡°Oh, good.¡± I nodded to myself, feeling momentarily proud of my empathetic leadership skills.

    ¡°So if you feel like¡ª¡± I started again, but she promptly interrupted me like someone cutting a line at the bakery.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that I hate what we¡¯re doing, Adrian,¡± she said, her tone dripping with what could only be described as ghostly exasperation. ¡°You¡¯re just really weird with the ¡®Paladin¡¯ bit, and I¡¯m not exactly sure what your plan is. You just, y¡¯know, showed up, announced you¡¯re going to break my old man¡¯s chains, and defeat him. You realize how crazy that all still sounds, right?¡±

    I blinked, taken aback. Crazy? Me? Okay, fine. She had a point. ¡°I¡­ yeah. I guess I¡¯m a bit all over the place with the plan, huh?¡± I admitted, scratching the back of my head.

    Now that she mentioned it, what was the goal? So far, I¡¯d been treating this whole thing like a mashup of an RPG quest and a divine mission, with a side of trying-not-to-die. Was I even doing what the Four-Lights wanted? Or was I just winging it like a drunk bard at open mic night?

    I thought back to my time in the fake ¡°afterlife¡± with my spiritual counselor. I really hope I¡¯m sticking in line with whatever G.G. had in mind for me.

    ¡°I think, as our wise and fearless team leader, we need to establish our situation and both short- and long-term goals,¡± Ichni declared from her gauntlet throne, her tone dripping with mock seriousness.

    I ignored her, though that only seemed to fuel her momentum. ¡°After that, I¡¯ll formulate an action plan that will use your full potential¡ªwhat little there is¡ªto get us to both our goals in the smoothest way possible!¡±

    ¡°And what happens if I leave you on a bench?¡± I asked with a flat tone. ¡°How do you think your role as ¡®team leader¡¯ would pan out then?¡±

    ¡°Adrian~!¡± she cried, her voice a mix of exasperation and wounded pride. ¡°Stop making that same old joke. It¡¯s not funny anymore!¡±

    For once, I agreed. It was getting repetitive. Still, if it annoyed her, that was its own kind of victory.

    ¡°Keep it up, and we¡¯ll see who¡¯s laughing,¡± I said, savoring the sweet, sweet sound of her flustered panic.

    ¡°Okay, fine,¡± she huffed, her tone shifting to one of false professionalism. ¡°The royal princess¡¯s role won¡¯t be optimal. How about the official tactician?¡±

    I glanced around and spotted what I thought was the adventurer¡¯s guild building, giving a noncommittal ¡°Hmmm.¡±

    ¡°Dada ayu!¡± she cried, slipping into a frantic mix of indignation and desperation. ¡°At least the supreme advisor?!¡±

    ¡°How about an official hand-warmer?¡± I suggested casually, stepping up to the oak door. ¡°Though, honestly, you¡¯re doing a half-assed job at that too.¡±

    ¡°If I¡¯m the hand-warmer,¡± she hissed through gritted teeth, ¡°I¡¯m going to tell the bard that you like fisting princesses.¡±

    ¡°Deal,¡± I said, pushing the door open, her string of creative curses following me like an angry ghostly chorus.

    The moment I stepped inside, my first thought was, This place needs an exorcism¡ªand not for ghosts. The Bronze Rooster had the charm of a scrappy underdog keeping its lights on, but this adventurer¡¯s guild looked like it had given up on that fight decades ago. The windows weren¡¯t just grimy; they were caked in enough dirt to host a vegetable garden. The chandelier above hung so low it was practically daring someone to smash their head against it, and of the dozen candles on it, only one feebly flickered, more of a mood light than a proper illumination.

    The carpet puffed up clouds of dust with every step I took, like it was actively punishing me for daring to walk on it. Even the tables seemed to groan under the weight of their own existence. One wobbled precariously, as though a stiff breeze would send it collapsing like an untrained swordsman.

    It was the kind of place where you¡¯d expect a skeleton to show up and ask for a quest¡ªprobably because it was the only thing that could tolerate the air quality. Guess I¡¯ll have to do as the town ghoul!

    Two figures sat at a nearby table, their cloaks pulled so tightly around them it was like they were trying to hide from the grim reality of this dingy hall¡ªor perhaps just from me. The first, a slighter figure, rested a simple bow against the edge of the table. Based on the way the string was fraying, it was either their trusted weapon or a hand-me-down from someone who didn¡¯t trust them enough to gift a new one. A faint, youthful voice occasionally drifted from their hood, lilting with energy and punctuated by the soft tapping of fingers on the wooden surface.

    The other figure was broader and sat with a weight that suggested they carried years¡ªif not decades¡ªof experience or bitterness. Their cloak was patched and dark, absorbing what little light made it through the grimy windows. Occasionally, they leaned in to murmur a response, their tone low and gravelly, like the rasp of a grindstone. It was impossible to get a read on them; whether they were an elderly sage or just someone perpetually cranky was anyone¡¯s guess.

    The pair seemed locked in conversation, their hushed tones suggesting an air of importance¡ªor maybe they were just gossiping about the tragic state of the chandelier. I couldn¡¯t be sure if they were plotting their next adventure or deciding whether to order another round of dust-flavored air.

    Before heading to the empty counter, I took a glance at the quest board. Calling it a ¡°quest board¡± felt generous¡ªit was more like a notice board for desperate cries for help. Sure, there were a few actual quests pinned up, but the majority were IOUs or hilariously misplaced business ads.

    ¡°You owe me 800 silver, Dirty Daniel! Don¡¯t think you can run away from the family!¡± read one ominous note. Another, more upbeat in tone, declared, ¡°Feeling tough? Try your luck in the Syrup Sumo Showdown!¡± with a gaudy drawing of what I could only assume was a very sticky winner.

    If this board were a reflection of the guild¡¯s current state, it was less of a recruitment tool and more of a eulogy.

    Still, amidst the clutter of overdue payments and questionable advertisements, I spotted a few actual quests. Some were so old they looked like they¡¯d been written before the invention of decent handwriting. A particularly yellowed one offering 45 silver for finding a lost cat caught my eye, but judging by the state of the paper, the cat had probably started a family by now.

    The requests were sorted by rank, with big letters stamped on them: E, D, C, B, and A. As I scanned for anything feasible, I realized the A-rank quests might as well have been labeled ¡°Want to Die? Try This!¡±

    I took a look at the more reasonable ones to see what I could scrounge.

    ¡°Looking for work? We can use a hand over at The Harpie Hexpress! A silver a day for sorting, a silver for each local package or letter delivered, and fifteen silver per out-of-town delivery!¡± This one caught my attention. More of a job than a quest, if I had known I could have done a desk job instead of hunting monsters, I would have swept this up in a heartbeat before I ticked off my new smithy acquaintance. It was ranked E. I assume that meant it was generally safe.

    I scanned the two A-rank quests with the nervous energy of someone who knew they were woefully underqualified but liked to daydream anyway.

    The first quest read:

    ¡°Urgent: A-Rank. High risk; dangerous intangible creature. The outpost towards the forest has been haunted by a dangerous monster, most likely a ghost or wraith. Need to be able to repel undead so that it won¡¯t come back to resume haunting. 400 silver on completion.¡±

    Now, call me paranoid, but ¡°dangerous intangible creature¡± sounded an awful lot like ¡°we don¡¯t actually know what it is, but good luck!¡± I knew it was that ghost that I managed to repel, but judging by the skeletons scattered on the floor when I visited its lair, that quest wasn¡¯t going anywhere. Plus, the payout wasn¡¯t exactly inspiring for something that involved going toe-to-spectral-toe with an angry ghost. Who did they think was going to take this on? Ghostbusters for hire?

    The second quest was a little juicier:

    ¡°Urgent: A-Rank. High risk; several dangerous monsters, dungeon traps, etc. B-Rank monsters have been taking residence in our local dungeon, The Maiden¡¯s Crypt. Unknown humanoid types, being unable to ascertain and defeat. Skeletons have been leaving the dungeon and harassing guards. Rumored to have unexplored secret wing hall. Provide proof of slain invading monsters for reward. 750 silver on completion.¡±

    I mulled it over, stroking my chin like a seasoned adventurer might. Dangerous monsters? Sure. Dungeon traps? Great. Skeletons running amok? Sounds like a normal Friday night. But what really caught my eye was the ¡°unexplored secret wing.¡± If I knew anything about dungeons¡ªand let¡¯s be honest, I didn¡¯t¡ªit was that secret wings usually meant treasure, or at least something worth bragging about later.

    Still, there was the whole ¡°high risk¡± part, which I assumed was a polite way of saying ¡°you¡¯ll probably die horribly.¡± My simple sword and questionable physique weren¡¯t exactly screaming ¡°dungeon-ready,¡± but hey, a guy could dream.

    Just as I was ready to give up on finding anything remotely within my wheelhouse, two D-ranked quests caught my eye. Without hesitation, I yanked them off the board with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn¡¯t yet been told no.

    ¡°These¡¯ll do,¡± I muttered, giving them a once-over.

    ¡°Psst, Adrian,¡± Ichni whispered, her voice like a nagging conscience. ¡°You need to register before you can take a quest, I think.¡±

    I waved her off dismissively. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Rules were for people who didn¡¯t need a sword loaned to them like a broke college student. These quests felt... different. Almost personal.

    Clutching the papers like they might float away, I made a beeline for the counter, ignoring the looks of confusion from the cloaked adventurers nearby. One of them¡ªthe smaller figure with a faint glint of blonde hair peeking out¡ªshifted slightly, as if intrigued by my selection.

    ¡°What, you think I can¡¯t handle a D-rank?¡± I whispered to no one in particular. The taller figure, likely the elderly man under his own cloak, let out a quiet scoff, but otherwise kept to himself. It took me a moment that they weren¡¯t even paying attention to me, and were instead letting my own indignation get the better of me.

    Ichni groaned in exasperation. ¡°You¡¯re going to embarrass yourself, and by extension, me. Again.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I plan to,¡± I replied cheerfully, approaching the counter like I owned the place.

    I approached the counter, expecting a bold and hearty receptionist ready to embody the adventurer spirit. What I found instead was an empty desk that looked like it had seen more lifetimes than I had. Dust coated the surface thick enough to plant crops, and cobwebs stretched lazily across the corner.

    ¡°Oh, this is promising,¡± I muttered, leaning over and spotting something resembling a bell. Its paint was chipped, the brass tarnished to a dull green. I gave it a tentative tap.

    The bell¡¯s clang was brief, sharp, and jarring¡ªloud enough to disturb the oppressive silence but weak enough to make me question if it had truly rung. The cloaked figures across the room stirred slightly, the younger one tilting her head in mild curiosity, while the older man just sighed like this was all beneath him.

    From somewhere in the back, a voice croaked, ¡°I¡¯m¡­ coming. I¡¯m coming.¡± It sounded as if the speaker had just crawled out of their own coffin.

    I glanced at Ichni. ¡°Friendly.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes up,¡± she deadpanned.

    After what felt like an eternity, the door behind the counter creaked open to reveal a middle-aged woman. She was dressed in something that resembled a uniform but looked as though it had been put together with haste and mild contempt. Her long blonde hair hung unkempt and tangled, the kind of mess that suggested either years of neglect or a bad breakup with a hairbrush.

    She might have been a stunner in her youth¡ªher features hinted at past beauty¡ªbut now she radiated a weariness that felt entirely in sync with the guild¡¯s dismal atmosphere.

    Ichni hummed thoughtfully. ¡°Huh. You two could be relatives.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Ichni. Truly a confidence booster,¡± I replied under my breath.

    The woman took a second to register my presence. She looked at me expectantly, then remembered she was the proprietor. Finally, with a tired sigh, she began her spiel in the most monotone voice I¡¯d ever heard.

    ¡°Welcome to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, Aratan Villa branch,¡± she droned, her voice barely rising above a mumble. ¡°Where monsters come to live¡­ and dreams come to die.¡±

    She blinked, then flushed as if realizing she¡¯d just let slip her inner despair. ¡°I mean, uh, the other way around. What can I do for you?¡±

    I stared, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or offer her a hug. This was the person greeting new adventurers? I suddenly felt a deep sympathy for this hall¡ªit wasn¡¯t just falling apart from disuse; it was collapsing under the sheer weight of its staff¡¯s apathy.

    Even Ichni was momentarily speechless. ¡°Wow. If there¡¯s a more inspiring motivational speech out there, I¡¯ve yet to hear it.¡±

    ¡°She seems¡­ stressed,¡± I whispered back.

    ¡°Stressed? I think her soul clocked out a decade ago,¡± Ichni muttered.

    ¡°Are you¡­ okay?¡± I asked tentatively, watching the receptionist with the same concern you¡¯d give a sputtering cart horse on the verge of collapsing. ¡°You seem, uh¡­ unwell.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ fine,¡± she replied with the kind of conviction that only people absolutely not fine could muster. Her hollow eyes, framed by dark circles so deep they could house squatters, and the ashen tone of her skin told a much different story. Honestly, if she didn¡¯t blink in the next thirty seconds, I was ready to classify her as undead.

    Ichni peeked over from the gauntlet. ¡°Are you two related or something? She¡¯s giving you a run for your money in the ¡®pale and tragic¡¯ department.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re twins,¡± I shot back under my breath. ¡°I just came back from the grave, and she¡¯s headed there next.¡±

    She felt so lifeless, we didn¡¯t even bother hiding the conversation in front of her at this point. She stared forward, somewhere past my shoulder, as though we weren¡¯t even there. I suppose the feeling is mutual. She idly began to explain the state of affairs with her guild hall.

    ¡°When I accepted the position as head of this guild branch years ago, I signed a magical contract to protect it with my life. As you can see,¡± she gestured weakly to the decaying hall around us like a tour guide at the Museum of Poor Life Choices, ¡°the business here died long ago. Since then, the contract has become¡­ more of a curse. The closer this branch comes to officially shutting down, the closer I come to, well¡­ permanently shutting down, too.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°So you¡¯re cursed to haunt this dying guild until the bitter end? That¡¯s¡­¡± I hesitated, searching for the right words. ¡°¡­a total bummer.¡±

    Ichni chuckled darkly. ¡°Great pep talk, Adrian. Truly inspiring.¡±

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s looking rough, okay?¡± I continued, offering a sympathetic smile. ¡°Good news, though¡ªI¡¯m here to register as an adventurer! And I¡¯ve already got a couple of quests I want to take on.¡±

    I slapped the papers down on the counter like a student trying to impress their teacher with early homework, grinning. She glanced at them with the same level of enthusiasm you¡¯d give an overdue tax form and then turned her bleary eyes back to me.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ great,¡± she muttered, as monotone as a tolling funeral bell.

    ¡°It¡¯s one silver to apply for your adventurer¡¯s card,¡± she droned, her tone as lifeless as the hall. ¡°After that, we charge a percentage guild fee on any quest reward upon completion. Per quest.¡± She paused to sigh, as if the weight of explaining this policy might finally break her. ¡°Failure to report on a quest within a month results in automatic failure, and you¡¯ll be subject to peer review for possible dismissal or demotion. Completing quests at your rank¡ªor higher¡ªcan earn you a promotion, which comes with discounts at certain taverns, supply shops, and¡­ other perks.¡±

    She didn¡¯t elaborate on what ¡°other perks¡± meant, but the way she mumbled it made me wonder if it involved a second helping of sadness soup.

    Her long-winded explanation felt like it was trying to lull me into joining her eternal misery. Honestly, I couldn¡¯t tell which one of us was more exhausted by the end of it. Bless her, though; she was doing her best despite clearly having one foot in the grave.

    I felt a pang of guilt as I slid the silver coin across the counter. This was the one Quen had given me to settle my tab with Randy, and now I¡¯d have to double-time it to make that back.

    ¡°Well, here¡¯s the silver for the registration,¡± I said, sliding the coin across the counter.

    The woman stared at it for a moment, as if debating whether touching it would cause her physical pain. Then, with the delicacy of someone handling an ancient artifact, she picked it up and deposited it into a drawer.

    And just like that, it was as though the sun had risen indoors. The gloom around her shattered as she glowed with radiant light, her features shifting like a magical girl mid-transformation. Wrinkles smoothed out, dark circles vanished, and her dull dress became a stunningly elegant uniform. For one dazzling moment, she was decades younger, her beauty so arresting I had to do a double take to confirm she wasn¡¯t an entirely different person.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, her voice melodic and clear, brimming with a gratitude that could thaw even the iciest of hearts. ¡°Please fill out your name and a general description of yourself to begin your evaluation.¡±

    Before I could even process her request, the glow faded. Like a switch being flipped, she returned to her previous state: weary, bedraggled, and looking like she might crumple into dust at any moment.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she muttered, her shoulders slumping. ¡°I suppose just the registration fee doesn¡¯t equate to the guild becoming lively again. But for a brief moment¡­ I felt alive. I could breathe.¡±

    The shift was so stark, I wanted to write her a heartfelt letter of apology for making her revert. For just a moment, I¡¯d glimpsed what this guild¡ªand she herself¡ªmight have once been, and now I was left with a walking embodiment of existential dread.

    ¡°Ahem¡­¡± Her soft cough jolted me out of my trance. I must have been staring at her with the intensity of someone who¡¯d just seen a ghost perform a tap dance. Scrambling to save face, I fumbled with the quill on the counter and began filling out the form.

    I wrote my name carefully, avoiding my usual chicken scratch, and then added a few minor embellishments to the "general description" section. Did I make myself sound taller? Maybe. Stronger? Certainly. It wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d fact-check my arm circumference. Satisfied with my artistic liberties, I handed the parchment back with a small flourish.

    ¡°Good job,¡± she said with a nod, though her tone carried the enthusiasm of a snail at a marathon. She placed the form onto a worn stone tablet, flipping it face down to reveal a rectangle etched into the surface. ¡°Now, place your hand here. This will complete your evaluation and registration.¡±

    I obeyed, feeling a faint hum of energy as the stone warmed under my touch. The parchment began to glow, the light seeping into the carved lines and forming intricate patterns that pulsed with mana. A soft chime rang out¡ªeerily similar to a toaster ding¡ªand a small card popped out from a hidden slot.

    The woman retrieved the card, inspecting it with a furrowed brow. Her lips pursed, and she let out a sigh that reeked of disappointment.

    ¡°I¡­ see. Most unique attributes, adventurer Adrian Lemond. Once again, in an official capacity¡­ welcome to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild,¡± she said, her voice laden with pity.

    ¡°Lemond?¡± I choked, grabbing the card and glaring at the typo like it was a personal insult.

    It read:

    Official Adventurer¡¯s Guild Card

    Name: Adrian LemondThis tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Race: Human (Ghoul)

    Gender: Male

    Age: 127 (Deceased)

    Class: Mercenary, Novice-Class

    Skills: Unknown, N/A

    Adventurer¡¯s Rank: E

    ¡ª

    Attributes:

    Strength: D

    Constitution: F

    Element Power: F

    Dexterity: E

    Intelligence: C

    Wisdom: D

    Luck: F

    ¡ª

    Elemental Affinities

    Fire: F

    Wind: F

    Water: F

    Earth: F

    As I scanned the card, my face twisted further with each detail. By the time I finished, it felt like I¡¯d swallowed a mouthful of bad stew.

    ¡°It is the responsibility of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild to manage the bodies of those¡­ who are dead,¡± the guild lady droned with the enthusiasm of someone reading their own eulogy. She avoided my gaze, staring intently at a spot somewhere over my shoulder. ¡°As your card says ¡®deceased,¡¯ I can provide you with a one-time offer of a free coffin to, uh¡­ dispose of yourself with.¡±

    Her delivery was so casual, you¡¯d think she was offering me a free toaster.

    ¡°What.¡± My voice cracked slightly, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to care.

    The woman refused to meet my bulging eyes, steadfastly keeping her attention on the blank space behind me. Clearly, she was required to offer this, but I wasn¡¯t about to keel over just because a card said so.

    ¡°Alright, first off, my ¡®class¡¯ is wrong. It should be P¡ª¡± I began confidently, but a sharp pinch in my arm derailed my declaration. I glanced down to see Ichni¡¯s tiny hand firmly latched onto the softest part of my elbow like a scolding grandmother.

    ¡°Pa-pa knight,¡± I corrected hastily, grimacing as the words stumbled out.

    The guild lady blinked at me. ¡°You want your class to refer to you as ¡®Papa Knight¡¯?¡±

    ¡°N-no! Just ¡®knight¡¯ would be fine!¡± I sputtered, scrambling to recover. ¡°I was a knight before I died, so it makes sense I¡¯d still be one, right? Or at least a swordsman?¡±

    Her unimpressed expression didn¡¯t budge an inch. ¡°Please provide your castle credentials for your servitude to the king, and I¡¯ll update the card.¡±

    The mention of paperwork made my soul physically recoil. ¡°O-oh. Nevermind, then.¡±

    With a nervous laugh, I decided to change the subject. ¡°And my name! It¡¯s spelled wrong. It¡¯s Legend. Legend, like a hero of legend! Also, I¡¯m not 127! Do I look that old to you?¡± I shot her my best mock-offended look, hoping for some sympathy.

    ¡°How old do you think I am?¡± she shot back, her voice carrying the deadly precision of a swinging guillotine.

    I knew a trap when I saw one, and she had just alternated between ages 20 and 100. I was not about to answer that one. My survival instincts kicked in, and I wisely shut my mouth. Satisfied with my silence, she nodded.

    ¡°Mr. Lemond, your rank is currently E,¡± she began, her tone flat enough to level a building. ¡°I see you¡¯ve selected two quests¡ªrank C and B, respectively.¡±

    I noticed a slight twitch in her eye as she continued, ¡°It is my duty to caution you that, by yourself, you will likely perish. Might I suggest something better suited to your¡­ attributes?¡±

    She let the word ¡°attributes¡± hang in the air like a particularly smelly pair of socks.

    ¡°Will you refuse me the quests if I insist on taking them?¡± I asked. Back in my old world, newbie adventurers wouldn¡¯t even be allowed to look at quests like these, let alone try them. But this world was different, and something about these quests called to me.

    ¡°No,¡± she replied with a sigh. ¡°They¡¯re merely guidelines. I¡¯ll mark you ¡®in progress¡¯ for both tasks, seeing as business has been slow. I will also prepare your coffin.¡±

    That last part was delivered so nonchalantly it might as well have been a weather report. I stared at her, certain I¡¯d misheard, but she was already pinning the quest sheets on a corkboard behind her. I swear she muttered something about pre-digging a grave as well.

    ¡°Understood. No limits on the amount?¡± I asked, trying to maintain my composure.

    ¡°It is 1 silver per set for the first, 1 silver per standard pouch of the materials for the other. It¡¯s an open quest until needs are met. If you need additional pouches, they are there on the shelves in the corner. Please return them when you are done with the quests.¡± she explained, her monotone voice as lively as a jury summons.

    I smiled wickedly at this.

    ¡°Excellent,¡± I declared, my voice dropping an octave for dramatic effect. The guild lady blinked at me, clearly caught off guard by my sudden shift in tone. She glanced at the pinned sheets as if second-guessing whether she¡¯d just enabled a lunatic.

    I gave the quests one final, determined glare before turning on my heel and stomping toward the exit, radiating an aura of vengeful purpose. As I passed the old man and the cloaked girl at their table, they both paused mid-conversation to look at me. It wasn¡¯t just a glance; it was the kind of wide-eyed stare you give to someone you¡¯re not sure is planning to save the world or burn it down.

    The quests? Hoplop antlers and slime residue. My blood boiled with one thought: revenge was back on the menu, and I was about to feast.

    * * *

    Hours blurred together in a haze of adrenaline and petty vengeance. Days might have passed, but who¡¯s counting when you¡¯re waging a one-man war against the lowest-tier monsters imaginable?

    What I did count, however, were the dozens¡ªno, scores¡ªof satchels and pouches now dangling from a ridiculous web of rope slung over my shoulder. I looked like a traveling salesman who specialized in slime guts and antlers. Most of the rope was scavenged from the haunted outpost, a place whose creepy ambiance was somehow less terrifying than the gleeful carnage I left in my wake.

    The slimes, oh, the slimes. Armed with an actual sword this time, I cut through their gelatinous forms with ruthless efficiency. Each slice was a tiny symphony of catharsis, each victory a sweet rebuttal to their earlier humiliation. Hoplops? I took their antlers, left their corpses as bait, and ambushed the slimes that dared approach like a man possessed.

    This wasn¡¯t a quest anymore. This was my calling, my way to shout into the void and make it hear my roar.

    As my reign of low-level terror unfolded across the meadows, the monsters began to notice something was wrong¡ªterribly wrong. I wasn¡¯t running this time. There was no desperate flailing or frantic retreat. No, I was advancing with the manic glee of a man who¡¯d finally found the receipt for his grievances.

    Slimes splattered under my blade like overripe fruit, hoplops practically dropped their antlers as if surrendering would grant them mercy¡ªit didn¡¯t. It was glorious. They started scattering when they saw me coming, and I¡¯d be lying if I said the sight of their jiggling or flopping terror didn¡¯t bring me immense satisfaction.

    Eventually, I realized that the remaining monsters might be regrouping or plotting something crafty. Given that I¡¯m allergic to ambushes and death, I called it a day.

    Meanwhile, Ichni perched atop the ridiculous sack of loot I dragged behind me like some kind of goblin queen. She looked smug as ever, basking in the glow of her post-revenge satisfaction after patching me up.

    ¡°I bet that felt good, huh?¡± Ichni mused, grinning like a kid who¡¯d just found out her parents were buying candy. She began swinging imaginary punches in the air atop her sack-throne, her voice laced with murderous glee. ¡°If it were me? Oh, I¡¯d go PA-POW! And then a HIYAH! And then when they¡¯re crawling on the ground, all pitiful, begging for their little slimy lives, I¡¯d lean in real close and whisper, ¡®You think this is mercy? Oh no, sweetie. Death is mercy.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Good lord, princess, rein it in!¡± I wheezed, sweat dripping down my face as I hauled the absurd haul behind me. ¡°This is supposed to be a hunting quest, not a horror play audition!¡±

    ¡°Oh, puh-lease. They deserved it. Two holes, Adrian. TWO!¡± she declared, her voice dripping with exaggerated indignation. I didn¡¯t even have to look up to know she was holding two fingers above her head like she¡¯d just scored a goal. She was, of course, referring to the two pitfalls we fell into, but the way she said it was laughably sexual.

    ¡°Context, Ichni. Context,¡± I groaned, shooting a glance over my shoulder at her. ¡°The last thing I need is for the locals to think I¡¯m wandering the countryside with a deranged frat boy.¡±

    ¡°Bah! This stretch of the meadows is emptier than our coin pouch! There¡¯s no one out here to hear me!¡± she shot back, a victorious grin spreading across her face.

    And then, as if to prove her point, she floated tall atop the wobbling pile and bellowed, ¡°HEY ONSHI, YOU CAN SUCK MY NUTS!¡±

    I nearly tripped over a rock as her shout reverberated through the air, rolling over the hills like a battle cry. My ears strained for the inevitable roar of a Lion-Oger charging through the brush¡ªbut, mercifully, none came. No red flag, this time!

    ¡°I bet we¡¯re gonna rake in a fortune for this haul!¡± Ichni chirped, her voice brimming with excitement as she pretended to tally up invisible coins in her hands.

    ¡°We?¡± I shot her a dubious look, shifting under the weight of the teetering sack. ¡°I did all the hard work. You sat up there playing ¡®royal overseer.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, Sir Laborer, but I¡¯m the one keeping this operation stable. Do you even realize how precarious my perch is? And let¡¯s not forget, I¡¯m the healer!¡± She clapped her hands together, imitating the roar of an imaginary crowd. ¡°Applause! Applause for the hero who saved Adrian from his tragic boo-boo!¡±

    She even mimed throwing roses to herself, which was a level of absurdity I hadn¡¯t prepared for. Still, she had a point. As much as I hated to admit it, having her around for patch jobs was an asset I couldn¡¯t ignore. Sure, I could probably manage on my own like I used to, but there¡¯s something uniquely comforting about having a mouthy ghost-princess wielding spider silk as your personal medic.

    A sudden, ominous churn in my gut made me grimace and stumble. ¡°Ugh, that stew¡¯s about to do some unholy damage. I can already tell I¡¯m going to need last rites after this.¡±

    ¡°Nature of the beast!¡± Ichni chirped from her perch. ¡°Aratan¡¯s cuisine has a reputation, y¡¯know. They say the spices are meant to warm your gut and burn away your sins. Paahav¨¦ it!¡±

    ¡°Paahav¨¦?¡± I echoed, glancing at her.

    ¡°It¡¯s demonic for ¡®cleanse,¡¯¡± she explained, her tone brimming with smug intelligence.

    ¡°Really? I figured sin would be something demons hoard, like¡­ treasure or cursed trinkets,¡± I muttered, stepping over a loose patch of stones.

    Ichni laughed so hard she nearly fell off the makeshift sack throne. ¡°Hoard it! Ha! You think we demons have vaults stuffed with jars of sin labeled by year? ¡®Ah yes, vintage guilt from the year 543, just a hint of despair with notes of rage.¡¯ You¡¯re ridiculous, Adrian!¡±

    ¡°Well, demons and sin went hand-in-hand back in my day. Maybe it¡¯s something that¡¯s physically obtainable in some kind of dark arts?¡± I rebuffed, ignoring the silly jab.

    ¡°Sin? Merdu. It¡¯s a fancy theological word for harvesting guilt, Adrian. You can¡¯t just spice away existential crises. Imagine someone¡¯s grandma yelling from the kitchen, ¡®Eat your soup, Timmy, and repent!¡¯ It¡¯s ridiculous!¡± Ichni scoffed.

    ¡°Then why does anyone believe it? Sounds like the kind of superstition you¡¯d hear in sermon¡­ or a chili cook-off,¡± I added, scratching my head.

    Ichni shrugged nonchalantly, as if explaining why the sky was blue. ¡°Maybe after the war ended, when humans had to start serving under my dad, they needed something to make life feel less miserable. A little spicy sin-cleanse placebo, you know? ¡®A clean gut, a clear conscience.¡¯¡±

    That casual remark hit heavier than expected. The words rolled off her tongue, but they were packed with history¡ªand resentment.

    ¡°There was a war here?¡± I asked cautiously, wondering if this was something I really wanted on my mental plate.

    ¡°Oh, totally! Humans and demons were buddy-buddy for a while¡ªsharing bread, trading secrets, stealing each other¡¯s goats, the usual. Then one day, the humans decided they wanted the whole pie and started kicking demons out left and right. Big ol¡¯ war, every race jumped in, chaos all around,¡± Ichni explained with a shrug, like she was recounting an old soap opera plot.

    ¡°And I assume the demons won?¡± I ventured, already expecting the answer but wanting to hear her say it.

    ¡°Obviously! My dad, being the badass he is, took charge and ended it. Boom, war¡¯s over, demons on top, and the humans had to play nice. He was just our leader then, but once the dust settled, he became The Demon King Malphas.¡± She paused dramatically, tossing her head like she was announcing him at a royal gala.

    ¡°And then it all went to heaven in a basket when the chains happened.¡± She twirled a finger like she was tying a bow on a disaster.

    ¡°And how did that happen?¡± I asked, genuinely curious. If anyone was handing out invincibility chains, I¡¯d love to get the scoop.

    ¡°No clue! Happened way before I was born,¡± Ichni replied, crossing her arms and scrunching her nose in thought. ¡°The old bat wasn¡¯t exactly the sit-down-and-share-a-heartfelt-story type. Like, can you imagine him saying, ¡®Hey sweetheart, wanna know how Daddy got these shiny chains of light that make me a stationary powerhouse of destruction?¡¯¡± She mocked, adopting a gruff, over-the-top voice and flailing her arms theatrically.

    Her impression of her father was oddly specific. It made me wonder just how much she had been subjected to his particular flavor of parenting.

    ¡°He¡¯s not much of a conversationalist, huh?¡± I ventured cautiously.

    ¡°Ha!¡± Ichni snorted, her magenta cheeks puffing out with disdain. ¡°The only time he talks to me is when he¡¯s giving orders or ranting about how ¡®the world used to tremble at his feet.¡¯ Classic overcompensation, if you ask me. If I so much as asked how his day was, he¡¯d probably launch into some 20-minute spiel about his dominion over the elements.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sounds¡­ fun.¡±

    ¡°Fun? Try suffocating,¡± she muttered. ¡°He¡¯s not a bad father¡ªwell, not just a bad father¡ªbut everything with him is about legacy and fear and power. He doesn¡¯t see people. Not me, not the kingdom, not the humans. Everyone¡¯s a piece on his chessboard. It¡¯s exhausting.¡±

    There was a pause as she gazed off into the distance, her usual fire momentarily dimmed. For all her sharp words, there was something almost wistful in her voice.

    ¡°But¡­ I guess he did what he thought he had to,¡± she added reluctantly. ¡°To protect us. To keep us on top. Even if it meant accepting he was chained to a throne he can¡¯t leave.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a hell of a way to rule,¡± I murmured.

    Ichni snapped out of her momentary reverie and shot me a wry smile. ¡°Yeah, well, what do you expect from a Demon King? A democratic council of compassionate ambassadors? Instead, he has his lieutenants doing all of his nasty work. Hell, he probably could just sit there for a century and this cursed world would despair on its own stinking fumes.¡±

    Her sarcasm was biting, but I could sense the conflict underneath. It wasn¡¯t just bitterness or rebellion. There was a thread of something else¡ªregret, maybe? Or hope? Whatever it was, it made her seem less like the arrogant princess she pretended to be and more like a kid grappling with the shadow of an impossible legacy.

    I wisely kept my mouth shut, uncertain if Ichni was genuinely annoyed or simply reveling in her flair for dramatics. Either way, she took my silence as a green light to continue.

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s cursed these days, one way or another. No one knows why, not really. Back then, it was just humans and demons. Now it¡¯s canine-folk, harpies, lamia¡­ even spider princesses.¡± She gestured grandly, like she was unveiling a grim parade of unusual citizens.

    Her tone sounded almost nonchalant, but the weight of what she was saying lingered like an unwanted draft. Whatever this world had become, it wasn¡¯t natural.

    ¡°Your mother or father wasn¡¯t, uh¡­ spider-folk demons?¡± I ventured cautiously, hoping the question wasn¡¯t offensive.

    She didn¡¯t respond immediately, her silence stretching just long enough to make me second-guess asking. Then, with a theatrical snap of her fingers, she burst out, ¡°Nah, I¡¯m one of a kind, baby!¡± Her grin stretched wide, though it didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°The humans, though? They¡¯re just¡­ there. Not oppressed exactly, but it¡¯s not like they have a choice, y¡¯know? Working with demons is kind of their whole thing now.¡±

    Her tone had shifted into something flippant, but I caught the underlying frustration beneath it. It sounded less like a choice and more like resignation.

    ¡°I¡¯m honestly surprised your father lets humans stick around,¡± I said, scratching my head. ¡°Figured in a place crawling with monsters and demons, humans would be, I don¡¯t know, food. Or sacrifices.¡±

    Ichni rolled her eyes like I¡¯d just suggested the sky was green. ¡°Natt, no,¡± she said, her tone bordering on exasperation. ¡°Father loves his subjects¡ªneeds them, actually. The more people to fear and respect him, the better. And yeah, that includes humans.¡±

    Her voice carried a faint edge, like even saying it left a bad taste in her mouth.

    ¡°So they exist just to fuel his malevolence,¡± I said, the words laced with scorn as I took a deliberate breath.

    Ichni¡¯s expression softened, and for the first time, her usual sass was replaced with something almost vulnerable. ¡°You want my honest opinion, Adrian?¡± she asked, her voice quieter, tinged with doubt. ¡°I don¡¯t think people even know how to live any other way anymore.¡±

    ¡°Well, yeah, that tracks. Live under chains long enough, and they probably stop feeling like chains. After a while, people just... stop fighting.¡± I paused, my stomach twisting at the thought. ¡°It¡¯s like there¡¯s no real hope left here.¡± My voice carried the bitterness of the realization.

    Ichni snapped back, determined to refute me. ¡°There¡¯s still hope!¡± she declared with exaggerated defiance. ¡°We¡¯ve got Chili Con Carne! A reasonably priced post office! And, oh, don¡¯t forget the yearly jamboree at the castle¡ªmandatory fun for all!¡±

    Her attempt to cheer me up was so absurd I couldn¡¯t help but crack a strained grin.

    ¡°That¡¯s not living; that¡¯s existing.¡± I said, my tone hardening with frustration. ¡°You can blame the people all you want, but this entire world feels like it¡¯s under some kind of twisted curse. From the moment I got here, it¡¯s been a downward spiral.¡±

    Ichni¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°And what gives you the right to make that call, huh? You just showed up! How much of your judgment is based on what you¡¯ve actually seen, and how much is just old-world prejudice?¡±

    Her words stung, not because they were entirely wrong, but because she¡¯d hit the nail squarely on the head.

    ¡°You already know your father is the embodiment of everything wrong with this place! He¡¯s the Demon King, for crying out loud!¡± I threw my arms up like it was the most obvious fact in the universe. The giant sack plopped to the ground, leaving the princess to bounce on it.

    Ichni folded her arms, her expression daring me to keep going. ¡°And you make it sound like slapping the title of ¡®Demon King¡¯ on someone automatically paints them as the villain. That¡¯s awfully narrow-minded of you.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I sputtered. ¡°He¡¯s literally called the Demon King! What part of that screams ¡®kind and misunderstood ruler¡¯ to you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know,¡± she drawled sarcastically. ¡°Maybe the part where he keeps his people alive, even if they¡¯re humans who fear and hate him. But sure, let¡¯s keep clinging to those comforting little labels of yours.¡±

    That just makes it worse, I thought bitterly. But then I realized who I was arguing with¡ªIchni, the Demon Princess. The idea that her father¡¯s title came with automatic condemnation would naturally be absurd to her. To me, he was the archetypal villain; to her, he was probably just ¡°Dad,¡± albeit a dad who could destroy civilizations between breakfast and his mid-morning nap.

    ¡°If you were stuck in one room for over a century, and the only things keeping you company were your hatred and the chains holding you there, would you really want to walk out and see sunshine and daisies?¡± she countered, her tone somewhere between exasperation and an earnest plea for understanding.

    I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. As much as I wanted to dismiss her reasoning outright, there was a grim sort of logic to it. Still, this whole discussion was twisting my brain into knots. Good and evil were supposed to be simple¡ªbinary, even. But here, in a realm where demons thrived, ¡°good¡± could mean anything from polite sarcasm to mass destruction, while ¡°evil¡± seemed to span lazy hermits to rampaging overlords. It was like trying to debate morality in a funhouse mirror.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I said finally, trying a new angle as I began to haul the sack again, ¡°let¡¯s say being Demon King doesn¡¯t automatically make him a bad guy. If he¡¯s so miserable, why not abdicate? Hand over the crown to someone less, uh, wrathful? Maybe even try a council or¡ªhear me out¡ªa democracy?¡±

    Ichni¡¯s expression twisted as if I¡¯d suggested her father start a knitting club. ¡°Are you nuts? He¡¯s king because there are worse monsters out there! What do you think would happen if someone like murakka Onshi or Dullahan took over? Spoiler: it would be really fucking bad.¡±

    I blinked. She wasn¡¯t just shutting me down¡ªthere was real venom in her voice when she said those names. Enough to make me uneasy. ¡°Uh¡­ who¡¯s the Dullahan?¡± I asked hesitantly.

    ¡°My father¡¯s most ruthless lieutenant,¡± Ichni said, her voice dropping into a grim cadence. ¡°He¡¯s a cold-blooded killer who makes sure no one dares to double-cross the king.¡±

    That was chilling enough, but then she added, almost as an afterthought, ¡°He¡¯s also the one who taught me how to sneak out of the castle.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°Wait, what? The terrifying executioner is also your sneaky escape artist instructor?¡±

    She shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. ¡°Ironic, isn¡¯t it? The guy who keeps everyone in line made sure I could get out of it whenever I wanted.¡±

    Ichni¡¯s face darkened as she shook out of some faint fondness for the lieutenant. ¡°Adrian, if you ever see him¡ªrun. Don¡¯t hesitate, don¡¯t try to talk your way out, just run. And if he sees you¡­ hide. I swear on my afterlife, I won¡¯t even laugh at you for it.¡±

    Her words were like lead weights on my chest. ¡°That bad, huh?¡±

    ¡°If he finds out what we¡¯re planning¡­¡± She trailed off, her voice shaking. ¡°Torture would be the best-case scenario. He¡¯d make sure neither of us ever sees the light again.¡±

    I swallowed hard, feeling the chill of her words settle deep into my bones.

    ¡°I mean¡­¡± I glanced at the gauntlet on my arm, the weight suddenly feeling much heavier. ¡°I get why he¡¯d target me, but what¡¯s he going to do to you? Undo the stitches?¡±

    Ichni¡¯s silence stretched just long enough to make me regret asking. ¡°He could hand the gauntlet over to Onshi,¡± she finally muttered, her tone grim. ¡°And then I¡¯d be stuck as that gloating furball¡¯s eternal trophy. Forever.¡±

    A shiver ran down my spine at the thought, the image of Onshi¡¯s smug grin twisting in my mind. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ horrifying. Yeah, let¡¯s make sure that doesn¡¯t happen.¡±

    ¡°Khippa.¡± she replied darkly.

    We trudged on for another hour, the weight of the overstuffed bag bearing down on my shoulders. At last, the faint silhouette of the town crept into view, its crooked rooftops barely cutting through the haze. As the sight of civilization gave me a sliver of relief, my thoughts drifted back to the bigger picture.

    ¡°Things need to change here, for the better,¡± I said, breaking the silence. ¡°Maybe not just for the humans, but for everyone. The way things are, it feels like people are just surviving. There¡¯s no future to hope for. I wouldn¡¯t want to live and die for this chili that¡¯s destroying my colon,¡± I added, taking a misstep to relieve some gas.

    After waiting for my war crime of a fart to trek on to murder some poor hoplop, Ichni materialized beside me. Although initially reproachful in her gaze from the smell, her expression eventually became thoughtful. She was mulling over the ¡°hope crisis¡±.

    After a moment, she puffed out her cheeks before exhaling sharply. ¡°Hmmm. The whole system¡¯s built on evil, which I know you think is bad.¡±

    ¡°It is bad.¡± I said pointedly.

    ¡°So if you stop my father, who¡¯s left to keep it from collapsing, and everything going from bad to worse? And don¡¯t you dare say you,¡± she added, jabbing a ghostly finger at me like a bitter housewife accusing a late husband.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m no king. There¡¯s always¡­ well, you,¡± I offered with a sheepish grin.

    Ichni froze mid-hover, then gave a dry laugh so sharp it could¡¯ve popped my eardrum. ¡°Goofy pakkha! You think I¡¯M gonna give these people hope? Me?¡± Her grin stretched to an almost cartoonish width, as if mocking the very concept. ¡°Adrian, you do realize I¡¯m apparently the ¡®wild child of the Demon King,¡¯ right? I¡¯m famous for throwing great parties and even better tantrums. That bard wasn¡¯t exaggerating.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but if your heart¡¯s in the right place, who¡¯s to say you couldn¡¯t become a queen your people adore?¡± I asked, my tone light but genuinely curious.

    Ichni went quiet, floating in lazy circles around me as if mulling over the idea. ¡°Hm,¡± she finally muttered, a note of hesitation creeping into her voice. Then, after a long pause: ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe. I¡¯ll have to think about that.¡±

    For a moment, her usual flippancy melted into something softer¡ªcontemplative. It was a rare sight, and I decided to let her be for now.

    ¡°You¡¯ve gotta start somewhere,¡± I said, adjusting the weight of the bundle on my back as if to emphasize the metaphor. ¡°The Four-Lights chose me for a reason, so you¡¯d best get your goal in mind if you plan on helping me be more than a diversion for Onshi.¡± I said with a proud huff.

    My stomach gurgled again, harder this time.

    Ichni cocked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. ¡°Oh, yes, of course. Mr. Paladin, savior of the realm, gonna show the world the light,¡± she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

    I winced as another ominous churn echoed through my gut. ¡°Mr. Paladin¡¯s gonna show the inside of his pants the light if we don¡¯t make it back soon,¡± I groaned, sweat beading on my forehead.

    Her laughter echoed through the meadows, loud and unrelenting, as I shuffled forward with as much dignity as I could muster. I was intent on not shitting my pants in front of this no-good princess.

 Chapter 14: Feeling Lucky

    ¡°I¡¯ve contacted the alchemist regarding the materials, and she was absolutely thrilled,¡± The receptionist began, her once-gloomy tone now as radiant as her transformed self. ¡°Seventy-six pairs of antlers and twenty-two bags of slime residue! She even added a twenty-silver ¡®tip¡¯ for the impressive haul. That brings your total to one hundred eighteen silver.¡±

    With a flourish, she placed a jingling sack of silver onto the counter. The weight of the bag alone nearly made my arms ache just looking at it. ¡°After rounding up the guild¡¯s six silver compensation, this one hundred twelve silver is all yours. Thank you for your business. And, truly, thank you for making me feel lively again. I am Rosalina Hall, and you will always have my gratitude if you choose to continue adventuring here.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but grin as I took the bag, its hefty weight a testament to my efforts. Rosalina, the once-cursed-now-glowing maiden, smiled at me with an expression so warm it could thaw even the grumpiest old cleric. The process to complete the transaction had taken hours¡ªcalculations, some kind of mystical paperwork relay, and client confirmation. Bureaucracy, even in fantasy realms, was a beast.

    Thankfully, it provided me more than enough time to scream my wretched soul and even more gruesome contents in the nearby chamberpot. She rounded up the guild fee instead of down when she saw the present I left her.

    By now, my arms felt like wet noodles, my back screamed louder than Ichni during her tantrums, and my ass was as raw as chipped sandpaper. The gauntlet was left with Rosalina during that ordeal; I wasn¡¯t about to bring Ichni into that battlefield. I felt wretched, battered, and broken¡ªbut none of it mattered. The sweet, victorious satisfaction of annihilating those slimy monsters and snipping antlers more than made up for it. Even reciting my oaths and prayers afterward felt¡­ serene, like I¡¯d done something meaningful.

    ¡°Let the client know I¡¯m grateful if she keeps the quest open,¡± I said, puffing up with a little too much pride. ¡°And¡­ yeah, I¡¯ll take another job later. Right now? Rest. I¡¯ve earned it!¡± The last part came out with more bravado than intended, and I mentally smacked myself for letting my ego show. A little humility wouldn¡¯t hurt. Maybe I¡¯d carve out time for meditation soon¡ªsomething I hadn¡¯t managed in¡­ well, ever since I landed in this dismal world.

    ¡°Certainly, Mr. Lemond!¡± Rosalina chirped, her radiant smile making me think she might¡¯ve genuinely enjoyed saying my name, even if it was wrong. ¡°Adventurers like you are exactly what we need to bring some life back to this place! You¡¯ve been quite the inspiration, I daresay. If this keeps up, we might even see some of the regulars crawling back.¡±

    With renewed vigor, she grabbed a mop and bucket. ¡°I, on the other hand, haven¡¯t felt this lively in ages! Maybe by your next visit, this guild hall will look¡­ less like an abandoned tavern.¡±

    ¡°Here¡¯s hoping the curse doesn¡¯t rear its ugly head before I¡¯m back,¡± I said with a grin, mirroring her newfound cheerfulness as she pinned the job posting back on the board. I turned to leave, determined to maintain my Paladin-like composure.

    But damn, it was hard. Rosalina¡¯s radiant transformation hadn¡¯t just brightened her mood¡ªit had left her looking like a goddess disguised as a guild receptionist. My eyes had the audacity to consider wandering south, and I nearly tripped over my own feet in a panic. Focus, Adrian. You¡¯re not that guy. Respect her struggle. Chastity is key. Repeat the mantra.

    ¡°Thou shalt not leer. Dispel thy horniness.¡± I murmured to myself in a trance. I blatantly ignored what Ichni said in response. I adjusted my sword belt as a distraction and kept my gaze firmly ahead, pretending the dirty wooden floor was the most fascinating thing I¡¯d ever seen.

    ¡°Hold it right there!¡± a young girl¡¯s voice shot through the air like an arrow, freezing me mid-step. I jolted, nearly dropping my coin pouch, as I turned to face the source of the outburst. It was the younger of the adventurers from earlier¡ªthe archer¡ªnow standing on top of a table like she¡¯d just declared herself queen of the guild hall. Her outstretched finger pointed at me with all the gravitas of a courtroom judge about to deliver a death sentence.

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± I started, already sweating. ¡°If this is about those weird moans from the bathroom earlier, I swear it wasn¡¯t me¡ª¡±

    Her glare cut through my flimsy excuse like a hot knife through butter. Whatever this was about, I could already tell I was in trouble. Why can¡¯t people just say ¡°hello¡±?!

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who went on a slaughter spree in the eastern meadow, aren¡¯t you?¡± she accused, her tone as sharp as the arrows in her quiver. ¡°All the hoplops and slimes¡ªyou took them out?¡±

    ¡°Uh, not all of them,¡± I replied, scratching the back of my head with a sheepish grin. ¡°I left a few alive. Mostly because they got wise and started running for their slimy little lives.¡±

    Her expression twisted into a mix of exasperation and disbelief, like I¡¯d just confessed to something far worse than hunting. I braced myself for whatever lecture was about to come my way.

    ¡°You know what happens when you throw rocks in the river?¡± She asked. ¡°You leave ripples and the sound scare all the fish away. So what do you think will happen if you throw a boulder in?¡±

    I paused with bated breath as the girl lowered her green hood, short blonde hair that ran neatly to her shoulders with precise bangs and a single, distracting mole on her cheek. My brain briefly short-circuited trying not to stare at it. She looked young¡ªdefinitely no older than eighteen¡ªwhich explained the stern-faced elder sitting nearby, her presumed ¡°guardian.¡± Despite her youth, her expression carried the authority of someone ready to ground me for missing curfew.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t get it, then let me spell it out for you,¡± she said, her tone so icy I half-expected frost to form on her words. ¡°You¡¯ve ruined my hunt. Completely. You went overboard, and now everything¡¯s scattered!¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ okay, but the quest¡¯s been posted forever. Why didn¡¯t you just take it sooner?¡± I shot back heatedly to counter the cold tone, my annoyance bubbling to the surface. ¡°Surely if that was your plan, it wouldn¡¯t have hurt to call dibs on it before I showed up?¡±

    Her face flushed red with indignation. ¡°That¡¯s because¡­!¡± she started, before throwing her hands in the air. ¡°We¡¯re more broke than a beggar¡¯s back!¡±

    The room went so quiet you could hear the old man take a slow, deliberate sip from his cup. The silence hung thick until Ichni¡¯s unmistakable snickering broke through from the gauntlet like a tiny, haunting laugh track.

    The archer¡¯s face turned beet red, and her glare could¡¯ve set a village ablaze. ¡°Are you seriously laughing at our situation?¡± she hissed.

    ¡°Me? No! I¡¯d never laugh at someone¡¯s misfortunes,¡± I protested, raising both hands in mock surrender.

    ¡°I heard your weird little girlish giggles all the way over here!¡± she shot back, her scowl so intense it made my palms sweat.

    ¡°Those weren¡¯t my giggles! I swear!¡± I said, shaking the gauntlet vigorously. ¡°Ichni, stop tormenting the poor girl!¡±

    But Ichni, despite her nature to take credit for her mockery, stayed silent, leaving me to bear the brunt of the accusation.

    ¡°Ugh! If I wanted your bizarre insults, I wouldn¡¯t have bothered calling you out!¡± The archer huffed, crossing her arms with all the defiance of a child. I felt the soft tap tap tap against the mistreated carpet, sending small puffs of dust up as though she was turning into a ticking time bomb.

    She looked ready to explode, but the old man finally spoke up, his calm, resonant voice cutting through her indignation like a seasoned surgeon.

    ¡°Serah, look at the lad. He¡¯s not mocking your situation. Just hear him out before you start throwing your arrows and accusations,¡± he said, his tone so even and reasonable it made me feel like I was the one overreacting.

    I turned to him, and for the first time, really saw him. His beard, though mostly well-trimmed, had streaks of gray running along his jawline. Beneath the hood, his sharp features framed piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through me. As our gazes locked, a chill ran down my spine. There was something about this man¡ªhis aura¡ªthat screamed power tempered by wisdom.

    The more I stared, the more it felt like staring into a piece of my past. His demeanor reminded me of my old master¡ªthe one who molded me into the Holy Knight I became before my ill-fated Paladin days. The old man¡¯s gaze wasn¡¯t judgmental or angry; it was full of supernatural confidence, as if the world itself bent subtly to his will. It struck me like a nostalgic chord, and before I knew it, I was standing straighter, reflexively responding to the weight of his presence.

    ¡°Oh ho, did you sense me, friend? My apologies if I startled you,¡± he said, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. ¡°Your eyes are familiar¡ªeyes of someone who¡¯s embraced something unwaveringly, so much so that not even the Demon King could shake their resolve.¡±

    His words struck me like a bolt of lightning. Fear mingled with confusion, my stomach twisting in knots. ¡°They are? Have we met before?¡±

    ¡°No, no, nothing like that,¡± he replied warmly, shifting his demeanor so it didn¡¯t feel as suffocating. ¡°This is our first meeting¡ªapart from your earlier dramatic entrance. But I¡¯ve seen that fire before, in another lifetime perhaps. Your eyes carry the burden of conviction, and I must say, it¡¯s rare to see someone look at me with such intensity. Dangerous intent is not something I often encounter these days.¡±

    I swallowed hard, unable to look away. There was no malice in his voice, yet his words felt heavier than an anchor. Then, as casually as discussing the weather, he added, ¡°And thank you, by the way, for riling up my granddaughter. She¡¯s been itching to start questing again but was stuck moping around. You¡¯ve done us a favor.¡±

    I forced a smile, but the beads of cold sweat rolling down my neck told a much different story. My mind raced, trying to gauge whether I should run or bow to this enigmatic man. Deciding both would betray my dignity, my eyes landed on the ranger again.

    Serah, as she was called, seemed utterly unfazed by her grandfather¡¯s aura of quiet dominance. Her arms were crossed, her stance wide and brimming with confidence. With a dramatic flourish, her dark brown cloak parted, revealing an aqua-blue feather tunic adorned with silver buttons that shimmered faintly in the dim light, like rippling water under a pale moon.

    She hopped from the table, landing with the confidence of someone who had already won. Fixing her piercing gaze on me, she pointed a finger like a blade and bellowed, ¡°I am Serah, and I challenge you to a duel!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± The word flew out of my mouth before my brain had a chance to stop it.

    Serah ignored my bafflement, pushing forward with the gusto of a seasoned duelist delivering a dramatic proclamation. ¡°We will wager one silver piece,¡± she announced, her tone laced with self-assured triumph. ¡°And when I claim my inevitable victory, it will grant me the means to register in this human town and begin my glorious adventure!¡±

    The confidence in her voice made it sound like this was less of a challenge and more of an initiation ceremony to her own superiority. I blinked, trying to process how I had somehow become an obstacle in her life story.

    Human town? She looked about as human as things go, but then again, if people were sizing me up, I¡¯d probably clock in somewhere between ¡°zombie mascot¡± and ¡°ghoul cosplayer.¡± I guess appearances for the category are negotiable here.

    Despite my growing confusion, Serah was all fired up, practically bouncing in place like a wind-up toy ready to launch. The table she stood on, which was begging to be put out of its misery, was wobbling in a perfect balance between furniture and firewood under her feet.  I turned to her grandfather for some semblance of sanity, but he just offered me a resigned shrug that screamed, ¡°Good luck, kid, you¡¯re on your own.¡±

    ¡°Alright, fine, but I¡¯m picking how we do battle.¡± I sighed, my voice heavy with the kind of reluctance reserved for admitting that Ichni was right in our hourly ritual arguments. ¡°I¡¯m literally and figuratively half-dead after my quests, so let¡¯s keep it skill-based, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°Bra-hahaha! Deal, ghoul. I¡¯ll even spare your life if you beg for it.¡± She cackled, chest puffed out like she¡¯d just conquered a kingdom. Then, to my utter confusion, she started stretching like we were gearing up for a triathlon. What kind of competition did she expect to throw her life down for?

    Rosalina, halfway through scrubbing the counter like it was a stained relic of better days, looked up with wide, panicked eyes.

    ¡°P-p-please don¡¯t fight in here! We just started getting business, and I can¡¯t afford to replace anything yet!¡± she pleaded, clutching her mop like it might be a magical staff to ward off disaster.

    I gave her my best reassuring grin. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯re not getting into a death match. This will be settled in the most dignified way possible.¡± I let the suspense hang for a beat. ¡°Rock-paper-scissors.¡±

    Serah, who had been rolling her shoulders like she was warming up to take me out in a real duel, froze mid-motion. Her jaw practically hit the tabletop. ¡°WHAT?!¡± she roared, so loud I half-expected the chandelier to shake loose. Then, as if summoning every expletive known to her, she let out a tirade in a language so bizarre that even Ichni, the queen of biting remarks, stayed silent. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious! That¡¯s not a competition¡ªit¡¯s just blind luck!¡±

    ¡°Oh ho¡­¡± The old man chuckled, his voice like the creak of an ancient oak. ¡°You¡¯ve much to learn if you think rock-paper-scissors is mere luck, little one.¡±

    ¡°Your grandpa¡¯s right, Serah.¡± I shot her a dubious smirk, folding my arms with the confidence of a man pretending he wasn¡¯t held together by willpower and webbed duct tape. ¡°Sure, the rules are simple, but there¡¯s more to it than luck. It¡¯s a duel of wits, instinct, and a sprinkle of swagger. One round¡ªno best of three.¡±

    Serah¡¯s nose wrinkled like she¡¯d just sniffed out a bad deal. Her eyes narrowed as if she was trying to read the fine print in my expression. She was definitely sizing me up, but not for my intellect¡ªmore likely for which body part would be easiest to stab if this went sideways.

    As she mulled it over, I was busy coming to terms with the glaring reality of my own predicament. My breastplate looked more like Swiss cheese than armor, and every muscle in my body screamed for mercy. A proper duel would end with me looking like a meat kebab, so this silly game? It was my best shot at staying upright.

    ¡°Tch. Fine.¡± She finally relented, her grumble more theatrical than genuine. She landed gracefully to the carpet, sending a comical cloud of smoke up like she had made a gladiator¡¯s entrance into a battle arena.

    She balled a petite fist into her palm, grumbling all the meantime about how she was being tricked into a child¡¯s game. As she looked at me, I couldn¡¯t help but note how pretty she was. While Ichni was more akin to a graceful beautiful princess during her brief stint alive with me, Serah had a more plain cuteness to her. Ignoring the fact that both were as wild as rabid raccoons, the archer had an air of charisma that clasped her nimble frame like a second cloak.

    I was unable to stop myself from portraying her into the ¡°talented younger sister¡± trope, and made me wish I had met her in the younger days in my previous life. Not just as an acquaintance, but as a trusted ally. I was a bit full of myself when I was in my Holy Knight days, so having someone like her to keep me in check instead of a bunch of gruff old men would have made my more chaste days at least enjoyable.

    Plus, who wouldn¡¯t want a cute little sister that could kick your ass if you got too cocky?

    ¡°I don¡¯t like the way you¡¯re looking at me. We¡¯re rivals, not lovers.¡± Serah interrupted my less than innocent thoughts. She wasn¡¯t disgusted with my leer, more so tolerant. She was probably used to this by now. ¡°Are you ready to lose yet?¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± I interjected, raising a hand to pause her. ¡°You said you don¡¯t have a silver coin to wager.¡± My tone was sharp enough to cut through the room¡¯s growing tension. ¡°What were you planning to pay me with if you lost?¡±

    Her face flushed as if I¡¯d just accused her of committing a mortal sin. She stammered, her words tripping over each other like they were in a race. ¡°W-w-well, I wasn¡¯t planning to lose! Obviously! Who needs silver when you¡¯re guaranteed to win?¡±

    It was as convincing as Captain Onshi suggesting he was going to try a vegetarian diet.

    ¡°Alright then,¡± I pressed, crossing my arms. ¡°What are you wagering?¡±

    My eyes briefly flicked over her gear, assessing its worth¡ªnot in a creepy way, mind you. I was just considering if she had any spare weapons or something to trade. But apparently, she interpreted my glance as something else entirely.

    Her reaction was instantaneous. With a sharp gasp, she flung her cloak shut, glaring at me as though I¡¯d suggested a duel for her soul.

    ¡°Kyahhhh~! You brute!¡± she shrieked, her voice so high-pitched it could¡¯ve shattered crystal. ¡°What do you think I¡¯d offer?! I am a proud warrior, not some... some... hussy auctioning herself off!¡±

    I clenched up like I¡¯d just walked into a pit of snakes. My gaze darted between her enraged expression and her grandfather¡¯s calm demeanor, the latter of whom seemed wholly unbothered by the scene unfolding. She was intimidating enough, but I¡¯d rather try to be Onshi¡¯s second wife than find out what gramps over here was capable of.

    ¡°W-wait! I didn¡¯t mean it like that!¡± I stammered, holding up my hands in surrender.

    ¡°Alright, fine!¡± she declared, her voice brimming with fiery determination. ¡°If you win¡ªthough there¡¯s no way you will¡ªI¡¯ll serve you as your knight for forty years. No more, no less, and no gross stuff! Got it?!¡±

    I nearly choked on my own breath. Forty years? Over a single silver coin? Did she think it was minted from the bones of gods? The sheer absurdity made my head spin. Was I supposed to picture myself leading a wrinkly, cane-wielding Serah into battle in my twilight years?

    ¡°That¡¯s... quite the commitment for a coin,¡± I managed to mutter, still trying to wrap my mind around it.

    The thought of having Serah as an ally was¡­ exhilarating, at best. I already had Ichni, who was about as useful in a fight as a soggy paper shield and had an unparalleled talent for making my life a living nightmare. I understood what my stray thoughts had led me to earlier, but adding this little fireball into the mix? I wasn¡¯t so sure I wanted to juggle that kind of energy. Ichni¡¯s a ghost and she was already tugging at the reins to our little adventure; Serah might full-on carjack the plan and hogtie me to whatever escapades she had in store!

    And what about her grandpa? The man radiated the kind of presence that made mountains move¡ªdid he expect me to lug his terrifying aura across the land too? There was zero chance I would be able to play ¡°team captain¡± if we were in cahoots.

    Honestly, I¡¯d rather face the Demon King underdressed and unarmed than manage this peculiar duo.

    Questions were piling up faster than I could dodge them, but against all logic, I agreed anyway. Maybe I could rope her into some kind of subordinate role¡ªtake her as a collaborator, so to speak. She could chip in a sliver of her silver from every quest I ¡°graciously¡± helped her tackle. Then, when we need allies, I can call on the retirement home twenty years from now and have grampa roll out the big guns.

    Yeah, that sounded way better than an impulsive tag-along who was clearly ready to pick fights with everything that so much as looked at her. It¡¯ll have to be done in a different way than a heated competition, though. For now, this little act will have to set a stone in motion.

    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s fine.¡± I said grimly before raising my own hand. ¡°On one-two-three-go, got it brat?¡±

    Her eyes narrowed slyly as she crouched. ¡°Yeah, I got it. You ready to die, ghoul?¡±

    This isn¡¯t a life or death duel, I thought with a grimace. Was she going to go ¡°rock¡± and club me to death with it, or something?

    As the countdown began, I locked eyes with her, channeling what I hoped was a face of unshakable resolve. Her gaze darted to my hand like a hawk tracking a rabbit, and I held steady, laying my hand flat with the cool confidence of a master strategist. Paper was my weapon of choice, simple yet effective.

    But just as our hands dropped, my palm springing flat for paper, my smirk froze mid-birth. Her fist clenched tight for a heartbeat, then, with the reflexes of a seasoned pickpocket, two fingers shot out at the last possible moment. Scissors. My eyes widened in betrayal as I realized¡ªshe cheated!

    ¡°Oh ho! Sharp as ever, Serah!¡± The old man chuckled, his amusement practically rippling through the room. His eyes, though kind, gleamed with an almost mischievous pride. ¡°Swordsman, you showed courage to match wits with someone whose hands are quicker than a thief at a festival and whose eyes could catch a falling needle mid-air. Even the tiniest tremor in your muscles would¡¯ve been enough to betray your intent.¡±

    I swallowed a retort. Sure, I was outmatched, but did he have to sound so impressed by her blatant cheating?

    I smiled at my defeat and nodded in agreement. I had intentionally chosen paper of course, because I knew it¡¯d be the most visually noticeable choice so she could win. While I thought she would have caught on sooner, she almost screwed up nonetheless until it was almost too late. While the old man saw through my ruse instantly, his granddaughter, who was pumping her arm in victory like she¡¯d just won a world championship, did not seem to have noticed.

    ¡°Oh yeah! Number one, loser! Now cough it up!¡± Serah declared, slapping her palm out expectantly like a highway toll collector ready to take her due.

    I reached for my pouch, resigning myself to a lighter coin purse, but the old man¡¯s steady hand intercepted mine.

    ¡°Hold, granddaughter,¡± he said firmly, the quiet authority in his voice stopping her victory dance mid-shimmy.

    ¡°What? But I won! Fair and square! Didn¡¯t I?¡± she blurted, her bravado now tinged with petulance. Did she really not realize how unprofessional her last second change was?

    ¡°You did, yes,¡± he replied, his calm tone wrapping around the room like a weighted blanket. ¡°But you were the one who demanded this challenge. He chose a contest of honor¡ªone that placed you as equals. The least you can do is show some grace in victory. No one likes a sour winner.¡±

    His words landed on her like a wet towel, and Serah let out an exaggerated sigh. ¡°Fine!¡± she grumbled, her lips pursed in defiance as she turned to me.

    Then, with startling swiftness, she executed a shallow bow that looked more like a half-hearted bob. ¡°Thank you for the opportunity to let us adventure. We, uh, deeply appreciate you honoring this¡­ duel. May our mutual determination guide us toward understanding.¡±

    Her delivery had all the conviction of someone reciting a poem they¡¯d just read off a napkin, but at least she was trying. The shift from her earlier swaggering bluster to this forced politeness was so jarring it nearly gave me whiplash.

    As soon as I handed over the silver coin, her demeanor snapped back like a rubber band. Clutching the coin as though it were the key to eternal happiness, she bolted toward Rosalina with the giddy energy of a puppy that just snatched a prime steak off the dinner table.

    ¡°She¡¯s quite the handful, huh?¡± I quipped, watching Serah and Rosalina chatter like long-lost friends who just discovered they shared the same favorite snack.

    The old man¡¯s chuckle came soft and weary, like a breeze through brittle autumn leaves. ¡°She has more energy than a raging storm, all bottled up and looking for a way out. I¡¯m grateful you¡¯ve given her a chance to do so.¡± His tone carried a wistful warmth that made me pause. ¡°Where we come from, currency isn¡¯t really¡­ a thing. This silver¡ªit¡¯s as alien to us as kindness from an oger.¡±

    He paused, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a gravelly whisper that sent a chill up my spine. ¡°What we do understand is fighting¡ªmonsters, demons, whatever crosses our path. That¡¯s where we thrive. But coin? That¡¯s a language we¡¯re still learning. There¡¯s not much to do if we needed to start with coin to begin with. To that end, thank you. We¡¯ll be sure to pay you back some time.¡±

    I nodded, trying not to flinch under his piercing gaze. ¡°Well, if it¡¯s any comfort, you¡¯re learning fast. No need to pay me back. I¡¯m happy to help.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The old man straightened, a faint smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. ¡°Generous words, swordsman. We¡¯ll remember them.¡±

    I still hesitated though, caught off guard by his frankness of what he had said. In this land, openly declaring a vendetta against demons felt as taboo as wearing socks with sandals¡ªonly much more likely to get you killed.

    ¡°But you kill demons, you say?¡± My voice wavered slightly, and I met his eyes. The warmth from before had evaporated, replaced with a storm of controlled fury, sharp and unforgiving. I was immensely grateful not to be caught in its crosshairs.

    He noticed my hesitation and offered a reassuring nod. ¡°Relax, son. I know you¡¯re not one of them.¡± His voice softened just enough to steady my nerves. ¡°You might look like you have one foot in the grave, but I can tell¡ªclear as daylight¡ªthat you¡¯re human. And, more importantly, that we share a common goal.¡±

    His expression darkened further, his words like frost creeping up a windowpane. ¡°This damned place is polluted with vile filth. The kind of filth that wears wicked smiles and preys on the weak.¡±

    A bead of sweat trickled down my temple as I swallowed hard. His disdain for demons burned so fiercely, I found myself longing for Serah¡¯s theatrics again. At least her scolding didn¡¯t feel like it could incinerate my soul. He almost sounded like me as a Paladin cranked up to eleven, I realized, and the unease made me gulp.

    Serah slapped the same two quests I had down on the counter, practically glowing as Rosalina pinned them behind her. Bounding back to us, she held her adventurer¡¯s card up like a prize.

    ¡°Look, Grandpa! I did it! It¡¯s the same as his, right? Right?!¡±

    ¡°It sure is, dear,¡± he said with a nod, his tone calm but warm. ¡°Let¡¯s see what that old bow of yours can do.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m gonna do better than this old zombie!¡± Serah shot back, smirking at me.

    I managed a tight smile, the jab hitting harder than I¡¯d like to admit. My attention, however, was pulled to the card in her hand, and as I read the details, my heart sank.

    Official Adventurer¡¯s Guild Card

    Name: Serah

    Race: Elemental

    Gender: Female

    Age: Unknown

    Class: Elemental Ranger, Saint-Class

    Skills: Archery, cooking, irrigation

    Adventurer¡¯s Rank: S

    ¡ª

    She tucked the card away before I could finish reading it,  but even the glimpse I managed left me reeling. Elemental? What in the blessed name of the Four-Lights was that supposed to mean? And Saint-Class? Back in my world, that would¡¯ve been on par with a Holy Knight fresh into Paladin training. Most archers I¡¯d encountered would rank as Novice-Class at best¡ªmaybe Adept or Elite if they really had something to prove. But her¡­ whatever an Elemental is, she was leagues beyond anything I¡¯d seen before.

    Most importantly, she¡¯d been slapped with an S Rank straight out of registration. Seriously, what did she do? Charm the magic stone? Bribe it with a tear-stained letter of recommendation? Whatever it was, it worked, because she managed to skip every rung of the ladder and land squarely on the top. The envy hit me like a war hammer. Sure, in my past life I might¡¯ve been S Rank material¡ªif the temples ever handed out ranks¡ªbut here? Here I was the gnat buzzing around adventurers like her, praying not to get swatted. No wonder she was strutting around like she owned the place.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you later, ghoul!¡± she chirped, her voice dripping with smugness as she twirled her way out of the hall like she was rehearsing for a musical. My fists clenched so hard I thought my brittle fingers might snap. If her mountain of a grandfather hadn¡¯t been looming nearby like a silent bodyguard, I might¡¯ve seriously considered adding ¡°child wrangler¡± to my adventurer¡¯s resume.

    ¡°I believe I heard your name earlier¡ªAdrian, was it?¡± the old man asked, his voice low and smooth as he glided past me with an almost unsettling calm.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I replied, turning myself and forcibly meeting his gaze despite the weight behind it. ¡°And yours?¡±

    ¡°My name has long been swept away by the rivers of time,¡± he said with a faint, melancholic smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°But if it pleases you, you may call me Gramps. That¡¯s what my little whirlwind insists on, and it seems to fit well enough.¡±

    The way his eyes twinkled made it clear he knew far more than he was letting on, and yet there was an air of humility that left me at a loss for words. All I could manage was a stiff nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. His wrinkles deepened slightly, as if he were smirking at my awkwardness without fully committing to it.

    ¡°May the waters give you safe passage,¡± he said, the words rolling off his tongue with the weight of a prayer. With a graceful sweep of his cloak, he turned and followed his exuberant granddaughter out of the hall. The moment they were gone, it felt like a storm cloud had lifted from the room. The heavy, invisible pressure he carried with him dissipated in an instant, leaving me standing there like a soldier just dismissed from inspection. I sucked in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, trying to steady my nerves.

    * * *

    ¡°Merdu, that guy was terrifying, wasn¡¯t he?¡± Ichni¡¯s voice drifted through the air as I trudged toward the Bronze Rooster. ¡°I thought my father¡¯s death glare was bad, but that old geezer could probably make a volcano apologize.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s seen some things, no doubt about that,¡± I muttered, my eyes scanning the modest bustle of the town. The streets were a lively mix of activity¡ªkids smacking sticks together like they were reenacting epic sword duels, young adults rushing between shops with packages, and the occasional odd figure. A horned demon-looking passerby carrying a heavy box on her back caught my eye, a similar race to that of the one that avoided me like the plague. Nearby, a humanoid serpent coiled lazily against a wall, reminding me uncomfortably of the guards who¡¯d chased us not too long ago.

    I was earning plenty of stares¡ªjust shy of the shrieking-in-terror variety¡ªbut enough to keep me on edge. Apparently, being a shambling undead-looking guy wasn¡¯t quite alarming enough to warrant panic, but I clearly wasn¡¯t blending in. Here, I was the walking reminder of what separated "normal" folks from whatever I was now. Normal¡­ that word felt like a cruel joke in a place where half the population looked like the kind of creatures you¡¯d find in a particularly nasty nightmare.

    ¡°Ichni, what is the elemental race?¡± I asked as I began closing the distance to the Bronze Rooster. It was been on my mind since I saw the word on Serah¡¯s card, and while the concept itself was simple enough, the meaning behind it was beyond perplexing.

    ¡°Beats me!¡± she said from inside the glove, as cheerfully clueless as ever. I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at my gauntlet in disbelief.

    ¡°¡®Beats me¡¯? Seriously? You¡¯re the princess of an actual demon king, and you¡¯ve never heard of this?¡± My voice climbed in irritation. ¡°What is it? A race of people? A type of monster? A bunch of fireballs in trench coats?!¡±.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s gotta be something, right? I mean, I¡¯ve heard of elementals before¡ªy¡¯know, the big, chunky, walking piles of whatever element they¡¯re made of. Fire elementals? Big blobs of flame with legs. Earth elementals? Like a mountain got bored and decided to go for a stroll.¡± She sounded so confident, but then she ruined it by adding, ¡°But Serah? Nope, doesn¡¯t fit. Maybe she¡¯s some kind of mix? Like her mom hooked up with a bonfire or something?¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ good point,¡± I muttered, tapping my chin. ¡°You think the adventurer¡¯s card just lists the dominant race? Like, if someone¡¯s half-elf, half-demon, does it flip a coin? Or is it based on whoever had the strongest genes¡ªlike a genetic arm-wrestling match?¡±

    ¡°Ohhhh, look at you, Mr. Thinky-Brain!¡± Ichni teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°No wonder your intelligence is your top stat. Too bad your adventurer¡¯s rank is still stuck at E-tier.¡±

    I let her snark roll off me like water off a duck¡¯s back as I pushed open the tavern door. The satisfying weight of my newly earned silver jingled at my hip, a sound sweeter than any bard¡¯s tune. Speaking of tunes, the air was filled with the howling guitar chords of what I assumed was supposed to pass for music. As I walked in, my mind wandered to a less melodic question: which unlucky elemental Serah¡¯s parent had managed to seduce to create that smug little prodigy?

    Climmard¡¯s unmistakable, slightly off-key warbling filled the room. He was mid-song, crooning some folksy ballad that was equal parts earnest and awkward:

    The cow foreman of the mines, he¡¯s a swell kinda chap,

    Always firm with a handshake and generous with the tap,

    None more loyal and courteous could ever be found,

    It¡¯s a shame his poor hand¡¯s no longer around!

    The bard¡¯s heartfelt delivery couldn¡¯t save the fact that the lyrics sounded like they¡¯d been penned by a sleep-deprived street performer.

    I could see that the lady was furiously writing her newspaper column as the bard sang away, and I snorted at the fact she was ever hopeful that the lackluster clown was going to bellow anything as useful as information.

    ¡°Seriously? He¡¯s singing about Bernie?¡± Ichni groaned, coming out and draping herself over my shoulder like a melodramatic cat. ¡°Of all the people in this world, he picks Bernie?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Bernie, again?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°The goh¡ªsorry, the minotaur¡ªwho runs the Makka Makka Mines,¡± Ichni replied, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they might pop out. ¡°He¡¯s one of the four lieutenants and even more unbearable than Climmard. But if he heard that song, he¡¯d be so smug he¡¯d probably flex his horns until they fell off.¡±

    I plopped down in my usual spot, ready to let my aching body dissolve into the wooden stool. Before Randy could make his way over, my ears caught snippets of a conversation from two adventurers in the corner. They looked like your typical leather-clad wannabe heroes¡ªtwo human guys who couldn¡¯t have been older than their swords. Judging by their animated chatter, they thought they were hot stuff.

    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe I scored so hard at Echoes Hollow,¡± one of them said, his voice nasally enough to make me wince. He had that boy-next-door look¡ªhandsome in a way that might work on posters, but not much else. His ears stuck out like twin sails on a windy day. Just as I was ready to tune out what was obviously about to be some embarrassing bragging, his buddy chimed in.

    ¡°Two people. Big deal,¡± his friend grunted, the bulkier of the two. With his dark hair and beard, he looked like someone who spent more time bench-pressing barrels than adventuring.

    ¡°Yeah, but it was almost at the same time!¡± the nasally one protested, his indignation making it sound like this was the highlight of his career¡ªor his life.

    Even Ichni was side-eying them now, her expression somewhere between horrified and fascinated, like she¡¯d stumbled on a group of peacocks trying to out-preen each other. Whatever ¡°Echoes Hollow¡± was, these guys were selling it like it was the next big tourist hotspot.

    ¡°They¡¯ll do that for anyone with a face,¡± Stocky said, closing his eyes and stroking his chin like a sage envisioning cosmic truths. ¡°Bet they¡¯re already doing someone else. You¡¯re yesterday¡¯s news, mate.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say that! When I came on their face, it was like the biggest feeling in the world.¡± Nasal-Ears shouted, loud enough to make Climmard hit a sour note on his guitar. The whole room turned to glare at him, Randy included, as though he¡¯d just let out a particularly offensive burp during a prayer.

    ¡°Maybe save this for your room, lads?¡± Randy interjected dryly, raising an eyebrow so high it nearly joined his hairline.

    ¡°Oh, sorry, chief! We¡¯re talking about them over at Echoes Hollow.¡± Stocky said sheepishly, as if that somehow made it better.

    ¡°Ohhh, my mistake. Carry on,¡± Randy said, waving them off like they were just discussing the weather. Climmard resumed strumming, and I sat there floored, my brain scrambling to process what in the holy hell Echoes Hollow actually was.

    ¡°Maybe we should go back and try to get more people into it, next time?¡±  Stocky mused aloud, his tone as serious as someone planning a military campaign.  ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind scoring a couple points myself.¡±

    ¡°With that nose?¡± Nasal-Ears quipped, smirking. ¡°You¡¯d be lucky to get a pity point. No offense.¡±

    ¡°My nose is perfectly fine, thank you,¡± Stocky shot back, scowling as he downed his drink. ¡°Too bad they don¡¯t have to put up with your sparkling personality.¡±

    Part of me wanted to march over and demand answers, but some instinct told me it was better left a mystery. I glanced at Ichni for clarification, but all she offered was a dismissive shrug. ¡°Echoes Hollow is weird. Let¡¯s just¡­ not.¡±

    Randy approached just as I slid a few coins onto the counter, alongside the mug he entrusted me with for my first decent meal. ¡°Randy, it¡¯s high time I paid up! Quen sends her regards¡ªand one of these silvers¡ªfor the great meal.¡±

    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t Adrian, my boy!¡± Randy bellowed, his voice brimming with exaggerated enthusiasm as he swept the coins into his hand. With a practiced motion, he poured a drink and pointed at Climmard, who was mid-lamentation. ¡°See this, Climmard? A paying customer! That means he gets the top-barrel beer.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re all the same beer, Randy,¡± Climmard muttered, looking like a dog kicked one too many times. ¡°And I swear I¡¯ll have rent next week.¡±

    ¡°Same beer? Pwah! Top-barrel always hits differently,¡± Randy scoffed, plopping the mug in front of me like it was liquid gold.

    ¡°If you¡¯ve got water or milk, I¡¯ll also take it. And if there¡¯s Chili Con Carne in the kitchen, I might just weep with gratitude,¡± I said, my throat parched and stomach an empty pit after the explosive aftermath at the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. ¡°Oh, and a room. I¡¯m staying for a while.¡±

    ¡°Best news since Madam Bagel rolled out her new sandwich!¡± Randy exclaimed, snatching the extra silver I dropped and heading to the kitchen with a spring in his step. I exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. As tempting as it was to faceplant onto the counter and call it a night, I knew food and drink would make it all the sweeter.

    ¡°You know it¡¯s still midday, right?¡± Ichni piped up, glancing at the rays of sunlight spilling in.

    ¡°I¡¯m also painfully aware that it¡¯s been midday for almost three days straight,¡± I grumbled. ¡°I¡¯d be crazy if I¡¯m going to wait for nighttime to eventually come to pass out.¡±

    ¡°Heh, fair point,¡± Ichni admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t exactly need sleep, so it doesn¡¯t bug me much. Still, weird it hasn¡¯t shifted yet, huh?¡± It was like she was trying to figure out the next time it¡¯d rain, not the absolute certainty of the flow of time.

    ¡°Wait, you don¡¯t know?¡± I shot her a bewildered look. ¡°What kind of twisted clock does this kingdom operate on?¡±

    ¡°Well, technically it¡¯s a twenty-four-hour system,¡± Ichni started, tapping her lip thoughtfully. ¡°But the whole day-night thing? Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s¡­ quirky.¡±

    ¡°So, no consistency whatsoever?¡± I pressed, my concern growing with each word.

    ¡°It¡¯s like a janky spring,¡± she explained, gesturing wildly. ¡°One day it¡¯s stuck at noon, then it inches forward, and next thing you know¡ªbam! Three nights of a full moon back-to-back. Makes for great ambiance when you¡¯re strolling and it suddenly flips to midnight.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not practical at all!¡± I exclaimed. What did that even mean? In my old-old world, everything spun on a consistent cycle. Sure, daylight savings was obnoxious, but at least the sun didn¡¯t decide to take a three-day coffee break. Wouldn¡¯t a sudden pause throw mountains off balance and send oceans careening across continents?

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s always been like that since I¡¯ve been born.¡± Ichni shrugged, as this was as normal as the sky was blue. ¡°It can be irritating when you¡¯re trying to do certain things like walk the gardens, but it¡¯s not like we didn¡¯t build for that, y¡¯know? We got entire lighting systems around most cities ready in case it gets into abnormal stretches. Plus, it only happens some of the time!¡±

    I stared at her, equal parts pity and disbelief. The blissful ignorance of living with erratic chronal shifts was almost enviable compared to the existential dread it should¡¯ve inspired. She glared at me, probably sensing my judgment, but before she could launch into a tirade, Randy reappeared, triumphantly holding a room key and a glorious platter of food.

    After stuffing myself like I¡¯d been on a three-week fast, I caught Ichni throwing me her own judgmental side-eyes the entire time. Ignoring her, I wobbled to my feet, dizzy from sheer satisfaction, and made my way to my room. I knew that eventually my body would pay the price for the spicy food once more, but for now I was in my own slice of paradise.

    I pushed the door open to find a quaint, surprisingly tidy little room. A single bed, a sturdy dresser, and a modest desk gave it the charm of a budget inn trying just hard enough. But the real gem? The side room that held something I hadn¡¯t dared to dream of.

    ¡°Hold up¡ªIchni, do you guys actually have running water here?¡± I asked, my voice laced with disbelief.

    It was a rudimentary bathroom, sure¡ªan awkward tangle of exposed pipes, a sink that looked one tantrum away from collapse, and a shower that might double as a sprinkler. But by every saint and spirit, it was a bathroom. A real, honest-to-goodness bathroom!

    ¡°Yeah, most places do these days,¡± Ichni said matter-of-factly. ¡°Aratan Villa¡¯s been sprucing up. You remember that harpy tower? The super-duper tall one here in town? That¡¯s actually the water tower now. Doubles as a mail outpost when the birds aren¡¯t busy, and when business is slow, they pump the water up. Oh, and we¡¯ve got a sewer system that feeds straight into the river west of here!¡±

    Well, forgive my sinful phrase, but holy shit. My old world never even dreamed of such innovation. The best we had was dumping a bucket over ourselves for a quick rinse. Actual plumbing? This cursed realm might¡¯ve just handed me the closest thing to divinity I¡¯d seen here.

    ¡°Sorry, Ichni, but you¡¯re taking a vacation in the dresser drawer. I need some privacy,¡± I declared, already starting to peel off my gear.

    ¡°Oh, khippa do! About time. I might¡¯ve gone blind otherwise,¡± she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Just don¡¯t clog the pipes! They¡¯re tiny, and you¡¯d probably block them with your¡ª¡±

    ¡°Aaaaand that¡¯s enough out of you!¡± I snapped, shoving the gauntlet into the drawer with all the care of someone cramming a stubborn sock into a too-full laundry basket. With a decisive slam, I silenced her.

    Twenty glorious minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom feeling reborn. Wrapped in a slightly-too-small towel, I sighed wistfully, already plotting my next visit to that miraculous haven of lukewarm water and questionable plumbing. It might not have been perfect, but it was heaven adjacent.

    Collapsing into the chair by the desk with a groan that could¡¯ve come from my very soul, I caught my reflection in the mirror¡ªand immediately regretted it. ¡°Ghoul¡± and ¡°zombie¡± suddenly felt like generous descriptions. I wasn¡¯t just bad; I was the poster child for the Undead Appreciation Society.

    My hair, a dismal shade of gray, stuck to my head like a soggy mop, with a single cowlick valiantly defying gravity. My face looked like someone had taken a carving knife to it¡ªscars, dips, and divots everywhere, as if a bear had used me as a chew toy. My skin, pale as a ghost¡¯s bedsheets, was cracked and dry, clinging desperately to bones that felt more decorative than functional. My arms? Twigs that somehow hadn¡¯t snapped despite wielding a sword. My nails were yellowed stubs of shame, and even my lips were a splotchy, purple crime scene. But the worst part? The hollow, yellow-eyed stranger staring back at me in the mirror.

    I reached up to touch my face, my hand trembling as though I¡¯d turn to dust at the slightest pressure. I looked like I belonged on the cover of Undead Monthly¡ª¡°Hot New Lich in Your Area!¡± If I shaved my head and threw on a robe, I could¡¯ve been auditioning for the villain role in someone else¡¯s hero journey. My hollow gaze refused to look away, forcing me to confront the truth I¡¯d been avoiding: I wasn¡¯t the Paladin anymore. I was a walking nightmare of my former self, the ghost of a man who¡¯d once stood tall and proud.

    I¡¯ve¡­ seen this before. Once, in the reflection of my sword.

    Disgust churned in my stomach, sour and relentless. The man staring back at me wasn¡¯t just a stranger; he was someone I¡¯d have gladly smited in a past life. A sharp pang ran through me, and before I could spiral any further, I yanked the towel from my waist and tossed it over the mirror, muting the awful truth.

    Dressing myself in my patched-up pants and threadbare shirt, I hesitated before opening the drawer like I was unleashing a grumpy cat who¡¯d been stuck inside their crate for too long. Sure enough, Ichni slithered out with all the grace of a diva making a grand entrance. Tossing the glove onto the desk, I sank into the chair, the weight of my mood pressing me down like lead.

    ¡°What¡¯s up, mitre?¡± Ichni chirped as she stretched out dramatically, clearly gearing up to throw some verbal jabs. One look at me, though, and she hesitated, her usual sass fading into something almost resembling concern.

    ¡°You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost¡ªwhich is impressive considering I¡¯m the closest thing to one in the room,¡± Ichni quipped, her voice tinged with unease. I didn¡¯t respond, my hands buried in my hair as my elbows anchored me to the desk. With my eyes shut, I tried to block out the nauseating memory of my reflection, but it lingered, relentless.

    ¡°I¡¯ve changed, Ichni. This isn¡¯t my body. Not anymore.¡± I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. Saying it out loud made the weight of it hit even harder.

    ¡°Well, look on the bright side¡ªyou¡¯ve got a body. That¡¯s more than I can say,¡± She tried to assure me. Her attempt at reassurance made me cringe at the thought that this was supposed to be my silver lining.

    ¡°I get it, okay? It¡¯s not fair for me to complain,¡± I admitted, trying to untangle the knot in my chest. ¡°I¡¯ve been through this before¡ªadjusting to a new body, new features. Last time, it was freckles and darker hair, things I could learn to appreciate. But this?¡± I gestured vaguely at myself, the memory of that reflection stabbing at me. ¡°This is something else entirely.¡±

    ¡°Adrian¡­¡± She began, but no words seemed to form to comfort me.

    ¡°I hate myself as I am, Ichni. I cannot describe the loathing I feel when I know that this is who I am now. I hate me.¡± The words tumbled out, sharp and raw. ¡°I grieve for my friends, my comrades, even for the precious memories I had; nothing, for all the training and diligence I¡¯ve taken in my entire life, has prepared me for the grief I had for being in this fucking state I¡¯m in. I can¡¯t even convince myself I¡¯m human, for holy sakes. That should¡¯ve been the one thing I could hold onto.¡±

    For once, Ichni didn¡¯t have a snappy comeback or a sarcastic quip. Instead, she floated closer, her tiny hand resting on my shoulder¡ªa gesture so simple, yet it cut through my turmoil like a lifeline. She kept it there as I was left to ponder my painful thoughts.

    ¡°I need to believe freeing the Four-Lights will fix this¡ªfix me.¡± My voice cracked, the weight of the admission crushing my chest. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t¡­ what¡¯s the point? Fuck me, is this even living? My heart beats, my body aches, but is that all there is to it? Because this¡­ this doesn¡¯t feel like life.¡±

    I wanted to flip the desk, to scream and shatter the stillness with my rage. But the cruel irony wasn¡¯t lost on me¡ªif I tried, this frail excuse of a body might just crumble under the effort. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth, twisting my frustration into something darker, something suffocating.

    The silence stretched, seconds feeling like minutes, minutes feeling like hours. I wasn¡¯t sure there were words that could fill the void I¡¯d just laid bare. But, as always, Ichni proved me wrong.

    ¡°Adrian, I can¡¯t possibly tell you how you should feel. I only know that it¡¯s a gift that you can still feel those things.¡± She said, with surprising softness. ¡°We¡¯ve both gone through a lot. I¡¯ve got my own barrel of emotions I still need to sort through, being a ghost and all,¡± she admitted, and as I finally looked at her she was floating in a timid pose, her small arms crossed. ¡°What I do know is that we¡¯ve been given a chance to be angry, to be sad. It¡¯s a chance that very few would have gladly given everything for, and yet we¡¯re the ones spoiled with the luck of it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel so lucky, Ichni. Heavens, I got an F ranking for luck, apparently.¡± I said with a sad chuckle at my adventurer¡¯s card. It was a dry laugh, the kind that hurt more than it healed.

    ¡°Luck¡¯s like the weather,¡± Ichni shot back, shrugging nonchalantly. ¡°It changes. I mean, look at us meeting Quen. That was luck. And hey, my dad hasn¡¯t noticed us yet. That¡¯s luck too, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Sure, but for how long? Luck runs out eventually, and one day it¡¯ll all¡ª¡± I started, but Ichni¡¯s exasperated glare cut me off like a smack upside the head.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t be so pessimistic, murakka!  The fact that we can still call Onshi a flea bitten pussy and hope to get our chance to turn him into a stuffed rug is all the luck we can hope for!¡± she huffed, her tone fiery enough to light a torch. ¡°And if I can somehow resurrect back into a hot spider babe, that¡¯s a consolation prize for me at this point!¡±

    ¡°If I can turn warm-blooded and topple a dystopian time-cycle, I suppose I could settle with a coup d''etat as a welcomed side effect.¡± I said, smirking despite myself. ¡°You know Ichni, I had a lot of bad blood with demons, but you really make it hard to hate them all, y¡¯know?¡±

    ¡°Hey, there''s always time left to piss you off, y¡¯know.¡± She said with her own devious smile. ¡°I might not be the ¡®evil spider princess¡¯ you were expecting, but I¡¯m gunning for the ¡®insufferable spider girl who¡¯s always right¡° category!¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve already nailed that one. The title¡¯s yours, full honors and everything,¡± I replied, shaking my head with a defeated grin.

    ¡°See? Always right!¡± she crowed, puffing out her chest triumphantly. ¡°I told you I should¡¯ve been team leader!¡±

    ¡°You can petition for team leader status once you¡¯ve got legs to stand on¡ªliterally,¡± I shot back, settling into the bed. Sleep was already tugging at me like a relentless siren, whispering sweet nothings of rest.

    ¡°Sure you don¡¯t want me to grab that coffin for you? Bet it¡¯s more your style.¡± Ichni teased, her tone dripping with playful mockery. I crossed my arms, glancing down at myself. Flat on my back with my arms crossed, I probably did look like a corpse ready for its funeral. The thought was so absurd, I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. And laugh. And laugh, until my sides hurt and my vision blurred from exhaustion.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll order it for tomorrow morning,¡± I managed between chuckles. ¡°You know, for the wake.¡± The last of my energy slipped away, and for the first time in ages, I sank into a rest that felt earned¡ªcompletely and utterly earned.

 Chapter 15: Helping Others

    ¡°Hey,¡± came a sultry, dream-like voice.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I replied, swatting at the wind with my free hand as if it might actually rip my hair off my scalp.

    ¡°Hey.¡± She repeated herself, as though lost in thought while gazing deep into my eyes.

    I stood nearly a hundred feet in the air, my journey to the top of the water tower leaving me ironically winded. The series of rickety ladders and spiral stairs that led up here might have been a carpenter¡¯s cruel joke, and now I was circling the platform, drinking in the view and trying to ignore the ominous creaking beneath my boots. That¡¯s when the voice caught my attention.

    Below me, the villagers bustled about like ants circling their mismatched nests, weaving through streets that made less sense than a drunk¡¯s excuses. The houses were a chaotic assortment of shapes and sizes, crammed together like a child¡¯s attempt at frosting a lopsided cake.

    To the east, the meadows stretched out like a painter¡¯s careless brushstrokes, a mix of green and brown hues that hinted at both beauty and neglect. Tiny craters dotted the distance, and I had a sneaking suspicion Serah had been playing the ¡°outdo-the-ghoul¡± card again.

    The west offered more of the same sprawling meadows, but the faint shimmer of a river caught my eye. It meandered lazily, flanked by rolling hills and distant mountains that seemed to loom like sleepy giants. Occasionally, a shadow flitted across the sky¡ªsome flying creature out for its daily commute, no doubt.

    To the north and south, the view was similar¡ªfields and faint traces of life dotting the horizon¡ªbut one detail from the north trapped me in my gaze. A single black tower stood alone in the distance, so far away it looked like a stray ink blot on the edge of the world. Its top flared ever so slightly, a dark crown for an already ominous figure.

    The longer I stared, the more it unnerved me. The tower¡¯s size seemed almost mythical, as if reaching it would take not just days of travel but also several existential crises along the way. It didn¡¯t belong in the natural beauty of the land¡ªit loomed like a bad secret the earth was trying to hide.

    The sky above wore a mask of normalcy, the sun hanging mid-afternoon like it didn¡¯t know how long it had been there. Clouds floated by in fluffy clusters, carefree as a retiree on vacation. The wind guided them aimlessly, a shepherd with no real plan, and they drifted along, blissfully ignorant of the hellscape beneath them.

    But even the sky felt¡­ off. Time had become a liar in this place, and the sun¡¯s leisurely position only added to the unease that something wasn¡¯t quite right.

    As the clouds shuffled lazily along, a peculiar sight peeked through the gaps. A delicate, glittering gold line stretched across the sky, arching gently from north to south like some divine afterthought. It looked impossibly thin, a shimmering thread that seemed ready to snap at the slightest touch.

    The line glowed faintly, like starlight captured in a seam of the heavens. It was the kind of thing you couldn¡¯t look at for too long without feeling like you¡¯d fall into a daydream¡ªand yet, I couldn¡¯t look away.

    It was then that the voice broke my trance. With one final reluctant glance at the strange celestial line, I turned toward the source of the interruption¡ªand found myself face to face with something I wasn¡¯t remotely prepared for.

    A harpy.

    Before me stood a striking woman with cropped, pale blue hair that shimmered like frost in sunlight. She wore a red leotard¨C thank the gods ¨C its snug fit breaking into graceful flaps at her waist that swayed lightly in the breeze.

    Her eyes were half-lidded, her chiseled features tilted in a dreamy, almost seductive lean, and her lips parted just enough to suggest she might be debating whether to ask me a question or recite a sultry poem.

    I quickly shifted my gaze upward, pretending not to notice the kind of curves bards might write scandalous ballads about.

    Her arms, feathered in hues that matched her icy hair, folded into grand wings that looked like they could wrap me up in an uncomfortably personal hug. Beneath the counter, her legs stretched long and lithe, their leathery texture suggesting scales that probably ended in sharp talons. She easily stood taller than Ichni¡¯s living form¡ªnot counting the hair¡ªand her imposing height only added to the surreal nature of her presence.

    With her sleepy gaze and inviting posture, I couldn¡¯t tell if I was about to sign up for a delivery gig or a starring role as her concubine.

    After studying her for a moment, however, I had realized that the bedroom she yearned for was her own, as she began nodding off in the lull of our conversation. Realizing I was being perverted with whatever leer a half-undead swordsman can create, I pulled myself together to continue where we left off.

    ¡°Did you need something?¡± I asked as I took one of the seats in front of the counter.

    She jolted awake, her wings fluffing slightly as though I¡¯d yanked her out of a particularly cozy daydream.

    ¡°Actually,¡± she said, her voice suddenly brightening as if I¡¯d flipped a switch, ¡°I need a letter delivered!¡±

    ¡°By me?¡± I blurted, my brain immediately running through job-related panic scenarios I hadn¡¯t even signed up for yet.

    ¡°Well, duh, you¡¯re a hexpress carrier, right?¡±

    ¡°What the? When the hell was someone gonna tell me this? Is that some kind of venereal disease?¡± I shot back, baffled and maybe a little indignant.

    ¡°Oh, wait!¡± she exclaimed, sticking her tongue out like a kid caught red-handed. ¡°I¡¯m the hexpress carrier!¡±

    I balked at the sudden demotion, unsure to be disappointed or relieved, before realizing that it was the profession she was talking about. I felt a cold stare coming from the gauntlet Ichni was resting in, as though the words ¡°She¡¯s a mailbird, murakka!¡± had been coming out of it.

    Scrambling to regain some sense of control over the conversation, I coughed and announced, ¡°Then I have a letter for you to deliver!¡± The harpy¡¯s eyes lit up, clearly delighted by whatever shenanigan we¡¯ve stumbled into.

    ¡°You do? Great! Hand it over!¡± she chirped, extending one fold of her feathery wing like a makeshift mailbox slot.

    I instinctively reached for my pocket, only to find it empty. No letter, no parcel, not even a stray scrap of paper. Unless I wanted to send these rotted hoplop carcasses to Onshi, I was shit out of luck to follow through with my brain fart. I offered a sheepish grin instead, my embarrassment practically audible.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m getting on the wrong foot here.¡± I admitted, mentally kicking myself for fumbling yet again.

    ¡°Then ya better find the right one!¡± The harpy exclaimed, her grin as bright as the midday sun.

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to have a letter delivered.¡± I went on, pulling out a sheet of paper I got from the Adventurer¡¯s Guild board. ¡°You had a job posting for some work here, and I was wondering if you had something I could do for some silver.¡±

    ¡°¡°Oh, then welcome aboard the Harpie Hexpress! I¡¯m Hilda!¡± she declared with all the gusto of a recruiter who¡¯d just snagged their quarterly bonus. ¡°How fast can you fly? We¡¯ve got high-priority parcels piling up!¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ about as fast as a rock. Could I do something a little more¡­ grounded?¡± I admitted, doing my best to suppress the rising shame of my clearly subpar r¨¦sum¨¦. I couldn¡¯t fly; why wouldn¡¯t they list flying as a job requirement for a courier service run by harpies?

    Hilda blinked as if the realization had hit her like a gust of wind. ¡°Ohhh, right. No wings. That¡¯s okay! We all start somewhere. Here, try this!¡±

    Before I could protest, she thrust a letter into my hands. It bore a name scrawled in loopy cursive: ¡°Madam Bagel.¡± No address, no instructions¡ªjust a name and a hope. My stomach dropped faster than my confidence.

    ¡°She¡¯s in charge of the Bagel Boutique by the west gate. You can¡¯t miss it!¡± Hilda added with a helpful wave of her wing. ¡°Now, get to it, rookie, and earn that silver!¡±

    I took multiple looks between the letter and Hilda, who was oblivious that I was completely baffled by both the sudden job and her ditsy behavior. She smiled, sank back down, and began drifting into a mixture of preparing parcels and nodding off.

    I gave a weak salute as two other harpies¡ªbusily sorting letters¡ªcheered me on with suspiciously amused grins. It was the kind of sendoff that told me this wasn¡¯t going to be the adventure of a lifetime, but I had already committed to this flightless folly and began clambering back down the tower.

    ¡°Now why in the seven hells did you go and do that?¡± Ichni muttered, her voice practically dripping with the kind of disdain usually reserved for a particularly bad meal. Even as a ghost, she managed to feel like a weight on my shoulder as I awkwardly climbed down the rickety ladder.

    ¡°I know it¡¯s not a slime-pocalypse payday, but every coin counts!¡± I shot back defensively, sweat gathering at my temples. ¡°Do you know how expensive everything is here? Even the cursed coffins probably have a surcharge!¡±

    ¡°WE. ARE. ON. A. QUEST,¡± Ichni bellowed in staccato as though spelling it out might help me understand. ¡°We are supposed to be gearing up asap to get to these shrines, Adrian!¡± She began to tut at me with as much aggravation as she could muster.

    She was right, of course. The silver coin wasn¡¯t even worth the effort of climbing down and running around town, when hunting monsters, preferably stronger ones, would pay off much better by comparison.  But when I saw Hilda drooping over the counter like a wilting flower, something about it just felt¡­ right.

    ¡°It felt like the right thing to do at the moment, alright? It¡¯s not always about the money.¡± I finally said, hoisting myself down another ladder. ¡°When someone needs help, a reward shouldn¡¯t even come close to the reason.¡±

    She clicked her tongue audibly that made it clear I wasn¡¯t amusing her, but she didn¡¯t offer any resistance.

    ¡°Fine, have it your way, mitre. Hope you like minimum wage and a severe lack of health benefits!¡± She said with an exasperated sigh.

    ¡°Pffahaha, health benefits? You guys don¡¯t have universal healthcare here?¡± I joked, thinking about all the trips I had to make to help heal the sick back in my old world.

    ¡°BLECK!¡± She spat with a bit of dramatic vigor. ¡°We¡¯re demons and monsters, why would we care about that? It¡¯s so much easier to enslave people with crippling debt!¡±

    I groaned, half in annoyance and half in acknowledgment. She wasn¡¯t entirely wrong.

    ¡°I swear, if I ever become a Paladin again, that¡¯s the first thing I¡¯m fixing. Affordable healing for all. Paladins for Progress or something like that.¡± My voice carried a spark of hope, one I immediately saw Ichni gearing up to extinguish.

    ¡°Sounds great, Adrian, go be that inspiring beacon of salvation for all of the people.¡± she jabbed, her tone sweetly mocking. ¡°You know what¡¯d make that faster?¡±

    ¡°... By freeing the spirits from the fights and defeating your father?¡± I asked, almost rhetorically at this point.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re so abha!¡± She said sarcastically, and I think I learned that abha meant smart, judging from the tone. Not much friendlier than her usage of murakka, or idiot, from what I could tell.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you care about helping your people, Ichni? Hilda looked like she was one lost letter away from collapsing into a coma. She¡¯s clearly struggling.¡± My concern wasn¡¯t just for Hilda but for Ichni¡¯s apparent indifference.

    ¡°Oh, Hilda? Pfft, that lightweight? She and I go way back.¡± Ichni¡¯s voice suddenly carried the nostalgic weight of a retired troublemaker. ¡°I didn¡¯t really want her seeing me like this, but, man, we used to tear it up together. Total pakkhas around the bottles. She¡¯s probably just hungover. Harpies? Big party girls. When the sun sets, the feathers fly.¡±

    I stopped mid-ladder rung, nearly losing my grip. ¡°Wait. Hangover? You¡¯re joking.¡±

    Ichni leaned forward like she was about to deliver a world-shattering revelation. ¡°Oh, Adrian¡­ Did you think she was some innocent, overworked maiden? Oh-hoho, bless your sweet, gullible heart.¡± She clapped her hands and dissolved into a fit of laughter that echoed in my ears.

    I grumbled, realizing the truth was slapping me across the face. Twice now, I¡¯d fallen for the ¡°helpless woman in need¡± act.

    ¡°You¡¯re a genuine softie, aren¡¯t you?¡± she teased. ¡°If I¡¯d played the ¡®poor, heartbroken princess¡¯ card when we met, would you have sworn undying allegiance to me on the spot?¡±

    ¡°First of all, no,¡± I said defensively, though my confidence wavered as her laughter grew louder.

    ¡°Sure, sure, Mr. Righteous Paladin,¡± she wheezed. ¡°You¡¯d be polishing my crown and swearing fealty before I even finished a single sad sigh.¡±

    Ichni¡¯s ghostly cackles faded into the ether as she slipped into the gauntlet, leaving me with the sinking realization that I¡¯d been duped¡ªnot just once, but thoroughly and spectacularly twice. My shadow stretched long on the cobbled street as if mocking my walk of shame to the bagel shop.

    How could I, a once-proud Paladin, fall for such an obvious setup? I mean, this wasn¡¯t my first adventure, but apparently, it was the first one where I played the fool with such grace.

    ¡°Score one for Ichni,¡± I muttered bitterly as I swung open the door to Madam Bagel¡¯s shop. ¡°Adrian: zero.¡±

    The moment I stepped through the door, a thunderous BANG rattled my skull like a poorly tuned bell. My instincts kicked in as I dove sideways, drawing my sword mid-air, ready to take on the phantom assassin I was sure had come to end me.

    ¡°Not today, you sneaky bastard of a slime!¡± I roared, adrenaline drowning out reason as I rolled into a chair and promptly tripped over it. Landing on my back with a graceless thud, I prepared to face my foe, only to be showered by... confetti?

    Sparkling glitter rained down like some bizarre celestial insult. I froze mid-counterattack, sword pointed at nothing, as my brain struggled to reconcile the ambush with the festive assault.

    ¡°Wh-what...?¡± I croaked, still half-deaf and fully baffled as I staggered upright.

    My hearing was reduced to the dulcet tones of tinnitus, but my vision was intact enough to drink in the bizarre scene. From the outside, the shop was an unassuming brick building with a cheerful red-striped awning, but inside? It was like I¡¯d stepped into a parallel universe where even a five star chef would hesitate to yell.

    Polished black-and-white checkered floors gleamed like someone had been on their hands and knees buffing them since dawn. Sleek wooden tables with matching curved benches lined one side of the room, and a glistening glass counter showcased bagels that looked so perfect they probably came with their own theme music. Each one was practically winking at me as if to say, Bet you¡¯ve never had anything like us before, huh, undead boy?

    The whole place was cozy, pristine, and absurdly out of place in a world that otherwise looked like it had a commercial deal with dirt.

    Was I still in the same town? Did I walk through a secret portal? And more importantly, could a shop this clean afford to let me sit down without scrubbing me first?

    As I stood there, still half-covered in confetti, my eyes landed on the most peculiar sight yet: an elderly woman hovering behind the counter. And I don¡¯t mean ¡°hovering¡± like she had a majestic presence¡ªI mean she was actually levitating. Her delicate, fairy-like wings fluttered as she moved, their translucent edges catching the light like shards of stained glass.

    Her gray hair was neatly twisted into a bun, her large round glasses framed kind eyes, and her lavender dress was somehow both simple and graceful. It was the kind of ensemble that made you instinctively trust her... or at least want to.

    She was speaking, but with my ears still ringing from the earlier explosion of sound, her words were as intelligible as one of her bagels trying to explain quantum physics.

    ¡°WHAT?!¡± I shouted, doing my best to sound polite while practically yelling into the void.

    ¡°CONGRATULATIONS!¡± she boomed back, her arms shooting up as she flitted out from behind the counter like a jubilant butterfly.

    ¡°THANKS?!¡± I hollered, my confusion reaching new heights.Stolen story; please report.

    After a moment, my hearing began to normalize, though my dignity was taking longer to recover. She landed gracefully in front of me, her dainty feet tapping the ground like a delicate drumroll. Before I could figure out what was happening, she grabbed my hand and shook it with the vigor of someone congratulating a gold medal athlete.

    ¡°Oh, this is just splendid! You¡¯ve won!¡± she declared, beaming so brightly I was certain I could toast bread in her glow.

    ¡°I¡¯ve... won?¡± I repeated dumbly, still clutching one of my throbbing ears. ¡°Feels more like I¡¯ve just gone deaf.¡±

    She waved the comment away like it was a stray fly. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly! You¡¯re my 100th unique customer!¡±

    ¡°Your... 100th?¡± I said, her excitement starting to rub off on me. ¡°That¡¯s great! Congrats!¡±

    ¡°Oh, honey, no,¡± she said, giggling behind her hand. ¡°This isn¡¯t just about me¡ªthis is about you! You¡¯re my lucky milestone! And lucky milestones get prizes!¡±

    ¡°I did? Sweet! What¡¯d I win?¡± I asked, though the sarcastic whisper in my mind muttered, Hopefully not lifelong hearing loss.

    ¡°A free bagel sandwich, dearie! Fresh out of the oven, no less. You¡¯ve got impeccable timing!¡± she exclaimed jubilantly, fluttering her wings as she glided back behind the counter.

    The way she floated was mesmerizing, and I noticed her dress¡ªa simple lavender number¡ªhad an understated elegance that matched her demeanor. Oddly enough, she wasn¡¯t wearing shoes, but her feet were surprisingly well-maintained, like she¡¯d been sneaking off to spa days in between baking sessions. Not what I expected from a tricksy old menace who just flashbanged me with confetti warfare.

    ¡°Oooh! Well, I¡¯m here to deliver a letter, but honestly, I¡¯d planned to stop by here sooner or later. Perfect timing!¡± I said, flashing a smile that could only be described as a shit-eating grin. I glanced at the gauntlet and added, ¡°See, Ichni? Hard work does pay off! Lucky day for me!¡±

    A grumble emanated from the gem, low and discontented as I laid the letter on the counter. Clearly, Ichni wasn¡¯t in the mood for my victory lap. That only sweetened my satisfaction. Score tied, Adrian: 1, Ichni: 1.

    ¡°Oh sweet heavens, do we have company?¡± The old pixie, who I now assumed was Madam Bagel herself, squinted through her spectacles, peering at me. Then, her gaze wandered, like she was searching for someone specific. When her eyes widened and she gasped, I froze.

    ¡°Princess Ichni, is that you, love? Oh, how wonderful! Please, you know you¡¯re always welcome here. An old lady knows how to keep a secret!¡±

    My jaw nearly hit the floor. Ichni, equally stunned, hesitated before floating out of the glove, her ethereal form radiating confusion.

    ¡°You¡­ knew, Madam Bagel?¡± she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

    ¡°Of course, dearie! I¡¯m a pixie,¡± Madam Bagel said, her grandmotherly smile so warm it could have baked another batch of bagels on its own. ¡°If there¡¯s one thing we¡¯re good at, it¡¯s hiding and causing trouble!¡± She winked, a sparkle of mischief dancing in her eyes.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Ichni started, then awkwardly gestured at her ghostly form. ¡°I thought you meant¡­¡± Her words trailed off, the awkwardness thicker than cream cheese on a bagel.

    Madam Bagel shook her head with a chuckle. ¡°No, no, love. I¡¯ve also heard about that awful incident. That boorish brute of a captain¡ªhe had no right treating you like that.¡± Her expression darkened, her knitting brows practically crafting a disapproving sweater for Onshi.

    ¡°Poor Dooly,¡± she continued, sighing heavily. ¡°When he found out, the first thing he did was march in here and ask if I¡¯d seen you! You should¡¯ve seen the sad look on his face, the poor boy. He ran straight into the woods to find you the moment he heard what happened.¡±

    ¡°D-D-D-Dullahan was here?¡± Ichni stammered, her expression somewhere between terrified and wanting to disappear entirely.

    Considering how she¡¯d warned me to run for my life if I ever so much as saw this guy, I felt the hair on the back of my pale neck rise.

    ¡°He was, dearie, he was,¡± Madam Bagel said, her voice tinged with both fondness and concern. ¡°He stopped by a couple of days ago. Said he found the place where Onshi¡­ well, you know. But there was nothing there! He¡¯s been scouring the area ever since, poor soul, trying to find any trace of you.¡± She gave a sympathetic nod, her wings fluttering softly.

    Ichni¡¯s face drained of color¡ªwell, even more than usual for a ghost. ¡°N-n-n-no! Khippa don¡¯t tell him I was here!¡± she blurted out, her voice a mix of panic and desperation.

    The pixie chuckled warmly, her laugh as soft as a breeze through a meadow. ¡°Dearie, do you think I¡¯d betray you? I made you a promise!¡± She leaned in and took Ichni¡¯s ghostly hands, her own small but steady. Somehow, despite Ichni being incorporeal, Madam Bagel held her hands as if they were flesh and bone. Was it magic? Pixie intuition? Either way, it left me staring like a gawking idiot.

    ¡°Your secret¡¯s safe with me, love,¡± Madam Bagel assured her. ¡°I won¡¯t breathe a word¡ªnot to him, not to anyone. You have my word.¡±

    Ichni¡¯s shoulders relaxed¡ªwell, as much as a ghost¡¯s shoulders could relax¡ªand she nodded, her gratitude palpable.

    ¡°Now, you!¡± Madam Bagel exclaimed, pointing a short but commanding finger at me as if bestowing a royal decree. ¡°Your prize awaits, me boy! Pick, and choose wisely¡­¡±

    Drool practically spilled out of my mouth as I studied the treasures behind the glass case. Three shining plates remained, their contents radiating with the promise of culinary bliss. ¡°The Great Smoked Salmon,¡± ¡°The Hoplop, Egg & Cheese,¡± and ¡°The Big Spice Double Salami.¡±

    One was conspicuously missing¡ªa plate labeled ¡°The Headless Ham & Cheese.¡± My heart ached at the thought of the simple, satisfying combo that now felt just out of reach. Madam Bagel noticed my forlorn expression and smiled tenderly.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so sorry, sweetie,¡± she said with a wistful sigh. ¡°I only make that every day or two¡ªit was my husband¡¯s favorite. If you see it on display, snatch it up before someone else does!¡±

    I nodded solemnly, silently vowing to keep my eyes peeled for the elusive sandwich in the future. For now, though, I settled on ¡°The Great Smoked Salmon.¡± Spicy food had done enough damage to my insides for a lifetime, and I didn¡¯t think I could stomach eating anything hoplop-related unless I was desperate.

    As she prepared the sandwich with the precision of a master craftsman, layering it with a creamy white sauce that looked as rich as it smelled divine, she handed it to me with a wink.

    ¡°This one¡¯s a personal favorite. You should¡¯ve seen the fish¡¯s face when I caught it with my teeth!¡± she quipped, her laugh warm and mischievous.

    I laughed nervously, unsure if that was a joke or if the image of a predatory pixie was about to haunt my dreams. Somehow, I suspected the latter.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to sit yourselves at the benches or take it to go. My sandwiches stay fresh for a very long time!¡± Madam Bagel said with a self-satisfied nod, as if she were a magician unveiling her latest trick.

    That comment made me pause. Sure, smoked salmon could probably last a while, but bread? Bread went stale faster than my stint as a treant. ¡°Do you use preservatives or something?¡± I asked innocently, halfway expecting a harmless secret ingredient like honey or some mystical fairy magic.

    Her smile didn¡¯t falter at first, but then¡­ it did. Slowly, like an ice sculpture melting under the sun, her cheerful grin collapsed into a stern, almost hauntingly blank expression.

    ¡°Do not ask about the ingredient list of the bagels of Bagel Boutique.¡±

    Her voice was so flat and serious that the entire room seemed to chill. I felt my soul freeze as an inexplicable sense of dread settled over me. I nodded quickly, gulping so hard I could swear it echoed.

    ¡°Understood, madam!¡± I squeaked, feeling like a chastised child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

    ¡°Good! Good.¡± Her warmth returned instantly, her previous icy demeanor melting away as though it had never been there.

    I sat down gingerly, unsure if I had just witnessed murderous intent from the kind lady, or if I had simply imagined the guillotine loosely hanging over my neck.

    I unwrapped my bagel sandwich, and took a whiff of its buttery, smoky glory. It was like an edible symphony, and I was ready for the opening act.

    Across the table, Ichni materialized, her ghostly form seated primly¡ªexcept for her face. Her eyes locked onto my bagel with such intensity that it made me pause mid-bite.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to do that dog thing, are you? You know, where they stare at you with those big, sad eyes, silently begging for food?¡± I asked, narrowing my gaze at her suspiciously.

    She snapped her head up, startled. ¡°Of course not!¡± she protested, though her tone was more defensive than convincing. ¡°It¡¯s just been¡­ a while since I ate anything, okay? And it looks, uh, really good.¡±

    Ichni began fiddling with her crimson hair like a schoolgirl lost in thought. Her usually sharp tongue was dulled by her clear envy of my meal.

    ¡°You¡¯re not fooling anyone,¡± I said flatly, taking a defiant bite. The bagel didn¡¯t disappoint. It was divine, and I wasn¡¯t about to share¡ªnot with a ghost who could technically neither eat nor taste.

    ¡°Something on your mind, princess?¡± I asked, taking a moment to savor the pure, unadulterated bliss of melted butter and smoky salmon that danced on my tongue. It was so good that I almost regretted giving her an opening to interrupt my meal¡ªbut only almost.

    Ichni hesitated, shifting awkwardly in her seat before finally speaking. ¡°Dullahan has been looking for me, right? He¡¯s not exactly a master detective when it comes to tracking, but if he¡¯s sniffing around this area, it¡¯s only a matter of time before he finds us.¡±

    ¡°Right, I¡¯ve been thinking the same thing.¡± I lied through a mouthful of bagel, nodding sagely. In truth, Dullahan hadn¡¯t crossed my mind once since Madam Bagel mentioned him. My priorities were simple: eat first, worry later. ¡°Keeping hidden in the glove was a good call on your part. Maybe I should grab a cloak while I¡¯m at it. Who knows, I might discover I¡¯m secretly allergic to rain now. That¡¯s a thing for the undead, right?¡±

    ¡°Are you a cat now? What¡¯s next, you hiss at crosses and start coughing up hairballs?¡± she jabbed, rolling her eyes. A bit rich coming from the girl who spat webs for a living and promised me sexual favors when she was under firing range of a holy sermon, but I wasn¡¯t going to let the thought betray the sheer bliss of this holy sandwich.

    ¡°Hey, give me some credit here,¡± I shot back, my bagel momentarily forgotten. ¡°Undead have weird weaknesses! Back when I was in that spooky emo goth shadow phase, sunlight felt like a full-on power washer to the face. Water, sunlight, even salt¡ªthere¡¯s always something that turns us into a freaking mess. That should include him. Dullahan is... uh, he¡¯s still a dullahan, right?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re getting at. Dullahan is¡­ well, Dullahan.¡± Ichni shrugged, her expression equal parts confusion and annoyance.

    ¡°No, I mean, headless guy, curses people, has a whip and rides a carriage of headless horses?¡± I pressed, trying to piece together the myths of my old-old world with whatever nightmare fuel was stalking us now. Back in the day, I¡¯d heard of the headless horseman galloping through spooky legends, but that was more ¡°Halloween special¡± than ¡°real-life terror.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ carries his head? Yep. Likes to swear at people? Oh, absolutely. A whip? No, he¡¯s more of a ¡®punch a hole through your chest¡¯ kind of guy. And horses? Uh-uh. They went extinct after the war.¡± Ichni counted off on her fingers with a disturbingly casual tone.

    ¡°So... he¡¯s basically an undead juggernaut like me, but angrier?¡± I offered, wincing as I realized the parallels.

    She laughed, short and sharp. ¡°Adrian, you¡¯re not even in the same league. He¡¯s smart, cunning, and completely okay with killing anyone who annoys him. You¡¯re, uh... let¡¯s call it ¡®mildly intimidating at best.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Okay, so I¡¯m the baby version of him.¡± I sighed, trying to brush off her words but failing miserably.

    She grinned ear to ear, eyes gleaming like she¡¯d landed the world¡¯s best joke. ¡°Hey, at least you¡¯ve got a thicker neck than him! That¡¯s something, right?¡±

    It took me a moment to register her jab, and I groaned. Great. I was officially the punchline in my own life story.

    ¡°I could pass off as Dullahan¡¯s wimpy cousin is what I¡¯m getting out of this.¡± I moaned as an afterthought.

    ¡°Sure, if Scarin¡¯ Karyn¡¯s your mom! That¡¯d explain the extra-ugly mug, hehehe!¡± Ichni chimed, pounding the table in delight.

    ¡°Okay, now who the hell is that!¡± I went to interrogate, but I was soon interrupted.

    ¡°Dooly isn¡¯t all that bad, I¡¯ll have you know.¡± The soft yet steady voice came from the other side of the shop. I turned to find Madam Bagel, busy stocking jars of what I hoped were bagel-friendly toppings and not, say, powdered curses for people that asked about ingredients.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked, more intrigued than I should have been.

    ¡°Dooly has a heart of gold¡ªone that¡¯s been shattered over and over,¡± she said, her voice tinged with a sorrow that could melt a glacier. ¡°His eyes might not show it, but he loves this kingdom and everyone in it. When my husband passed away¡ªbless his sweet little soul¡ªDooly came to help me bury him. Promised me he¡¯d check in as often as he could to make sure I was alright.¡±

    I turned to Ichni, half-expecting her to call that out as hogwash, but she wore an expression that teetered between guilt and confusion. Guess it¡¯s hard to argue when the kind grandma of bagels starts painting a grim assassin as the neighborhood hero.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look at me like that, you two.¡± Madam Bagel¡¯s voice sharpened, her tone as warm as an oven on a cold day but firm as a rolling pin. ¡°I¡¯m no fool¡ªI know what he¡¯s done. Just know that while his body is a cold-blooded weapon, there¡¯s something warmer beating deep inside him.¡±

    Her words hung in the air like steam from a fresh bagel, and I didn¡¯t quite know what to do with the image of the Dullahan as a misunderstood teddy bear with a murderous streak.

    ¡°Your¡­ husband,¡± I interjected, desperate to steer the conversation away from the image of Dooly as a misunderstood softie. ¡°How did you two meet?¡±

    ¡°Oh, dearie, you know just how to pull on an old girl¡¯s heartstrings!¡± she exclaimed, her faltering grin transforming into a nostalgic smile. ¡°Back in my younger wings, I used to sell bagels on the streets. He was my very first customer!¡±

    ¡°You married your first customer?¡± I blurted out, the absurdity catching me off guard.

    ¡°Yyyup! He walked up, caught a whiff of my fresh bagels, and bought one right then and there. After that, he bought the whole basket! It was love at first bite,¡± she giggled, swaying slightly as if carried away by memories sweeter than honey butter. She looked almost girlish, her wrinkles momentarily smoothing as she reminisced.

    ¡°It sounds like you two had something really special,¡± I said, prodding gently as her expression softened further.

    ¡°Ohhh, yes,¡± she sighed, her voice heavy with the weight of a thousand cherished moments. ¡°Whenever I make a bagel sandwich, I imagine I¡¯m making it for him, just one more time. That¡¯s my secret, you see. That¡¯s why they¡¯re so delicious!¡± She chuckled softly, her hand trailing along the counter as though it were the bridge to her treasured memories.

    ¡°You miss him,¡± I said softly, the weight of her memories hanging in the air like the lingering scent of fresh-baked bread.

    ¡°Oh, very much so,¡± she replied, her wistful smile deepening as her eyes turned glassy. ¡°I know he¡¯s waiting for me in the afterlife, and what a reunion that will be! But as long as these old wings keep fluttering, this shop will stay open.¡± Her voice carried a conviction so gentle and steadfast it could have soothed a crying child.

    For the first time, I saw the years she carried in the crinkles around her eyes and the delicate way her hands brushed the counter. She wasn¡¯t just keeping a shop; she was keeping a piece of her husband alive. It wasn¡¯t just about bagels. It was about love, endurance, and the quiet power of stubborn optimism.

    It was a look that spoke volumes¡ªa serene defiance against the passage of time.

    ¡°Besides,¡± she continued, her tone softening, ¡°he¡¯s always found a way to remind me he¡¯s still here, watching over me, and that he loves me more than anything.¡± Her hand grazed the letter I had delivered, and in that moment, it felt like the paper weighed more than the world.

    I stood there, stunned, as her words hit me square in the chest. ¡°He paid for years in advance,¡± she explained, her voice trembling with both sorrow and joy, ¡°just so I¡¯d always have his letters. To remind me how beautiful I am, how strong I¡¯ve been, and to tell me to make sure my bagels stay warm enough to comfort others. Every time I open one of these, it feels like he¡¯s still here, standing right beside me.¡±

    I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. I¡¯d thought this was just another errand, a way to make a quick coin. Instead, I¡¯d carried the enduring love of a man who refused to let death stop him from caring for his wife.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who deserves the thanks,¡± I said, my voice barely above a whisper. ¡°It was an honor to deliver something so¡­ meaningful.¡±

    Beside me, Ichni piped up, her voice unusually subdued. ¡°Yeah, you know us¡ªalways helping where we can!¡± she said, forcing a laugh.

    I glanced at her with raised eyebrows, her earlier complaints echoing in my mind. Her wide-eyed, pleading expression screamed, Don¡¯t you dare call me out. Begrudgingly, I let it slide, savoring my small victory. Ichni might¡¯ve been a ghost, but right now, she was eating a heaping helping of humble pie.

    As Madam Bagel clasped her hands together and gave us a tearful smile, I made a silent promise: I¡¯d never underestimate the power of a simple delivery again.

    ¡°Both of you, promise you¡¯ll come back and visit this old bagel maker, won¡¯t you?¡± Madam Bagel pleaded, her voice a blend of maternal warmth and persistent cheer. ¡°It would do my heart good to know you¡¯re out there fighting the good fight on a full stomach.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Madam!¡± I declared, my posture straightening like I¡¯d been knighted into her court. ¡°You¡¯ll see us again soon¡ªnext time as paying customers.¡±

    Ichni muttered something unintelligible but nodded along, likely trying to escape before any more heartfelt sentiments rendered her vulnerable.

    ¡°Good! And remember, dearie, a warrior¡¯s might starts with a hearty meal!¡± she called after us as we made our way out, her cheerful laughter trailing behind like a melody on the wind.

    We stepped outside, the door swinging closed behind us with a chime, and I immediately felt a raindrop splatter on my nose. I tilted my head back, groaning at the sight of dark clouds gathering overhead. The heavens were clearly preparing to unleash their fury, and of course, I had a water tower to climb. Perfect timing.

    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t this poetic?¡± Ichni¡¯s voice began from the gauntlet. ¡°You deliver a letter about undying love and get rewarded with nature crying all over you.¡±

    I didn¡¯t say anything, letting the somber tone from the Bagel Boutique trail with me like a wistful memory I wasn¡¯t quite ready to let go. The spider princess, realizing I wasn¡¯t biting at her attempt to play down the visit, grew silent for a moment.

    ¡°You know,¡± Ichni said after a pause, her voice quieter, almost hesitant. ¡°You were right, Addy. Sorry for calling you a dumb murakka earlier. This¡­ this was worth it.¡±

    I blinked in surprise. Was that an apology? From Ichni? Did I just witness a miracle?

    ¡°Nah,¡± I replied with a half-smile, ¡°I probably am a murakka for taking this job. A harpy could¡¯ve swooped in and done it in a tenth of the time. But¡­ sometimes it¡¯s about more than that, right?¡±

    Ichni huffed, and though she didn¡¯t outright agree, I caught the faintest hint of a smile in her tone.

    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right,¡± she said, so softly I almost missed it. Then, with her usual snark slipping back in, she added, ¡°It¡¯s a shame ¡®kindness¡¯ isn¡¯t an attribute on your adventurer¡¯s card. It¡¯d be your strongest stat by far!¡±

    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked, smirking as the rain started falling harder. ¡°S-rank kindness? A shiny gold medal of compassion?¡± It was cold, and obviously wet, but it didn¡¯t seem to bother me as I played along. Looks like this old ghoul wasn¡¯t hydrophobic after all.

    ¡°Pfft, more like B-rank,¡± she quipped. ¡°Still, you¡¯re definitely nicer than you are smart.¡±

    ¡°Oh great, and here I thought I was finally earning some respect,¡± I sighed, shaking my head as water dripped from my hair.

    ¡°Murakka.¡± I added playfully, giving her a taste of her haughty medicine.

    ¡°No, you¡¯re the murakka!¡± She shot back, and then laughed.

    We began to bicker like a couple of school kids as the rain took the sound away from our conversation. The sound of thick iron boots hurriedly passed us across the streets below as we took shelter from the rain and, sitting on a makeshift bench partway up the tower, waited together for the storm to pass.

 Extra Chapter: On The Hunt

    <hr>

    ¡ª First Lieutenant Dullahan ¡ª

    <hr>

    ¡°Please, sir... I beg of you... that¡¯s all I know...¡± The ghost¡¯s voice trembled, its form once ferocious, now a barely flickering, disembodied shell of a man. His neck was thin and translucent, twisting unnaturally within the grip of my binding spell. The unnatural glow of his ethereal body flickered weakly in the dim light of the crumbling fort, the heavy silence of the ancient stone walls amplifying his pitiful plea.

    I glared down at him, my eyes narrowing with disgust, as my mind scoured his soul for any shred of further knowledge. My hand, outstretched and trembling with raw power, clutched the spell tightly, the arcane energy pulsing through my fingers. The cold, unforgiving air of the fort, thick with dust and decay, clung to my skin like an oppressive weight. My boots crunched on the broken stone floor beneath me, disturbed by my fury.

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me you let a zombie in rusted armor frighten you into submission?¡± My voice was a growl, low and rough like the scrape of metal on stone. The abandoned fort around us groaned in response, as if the very structure was reacting to my rage. ¡°You were supposed to hold this fort, in life and in death, and you couldn¡¯t even manage that, soldier?¡±

    I raised the hand that held my head, the cold, skull-like visage of my severed form resting in my grasp, tucked beneath the rim of the horned helmet that crowned my neck. The helmet itself, black and weathered, bore the marks of countless battles, its horns twisted like jagged peaks of some forgotten mountain. My fingers brushed lightly against the battered walls, the ancient stones beneath my touch crumbling with age. A fine layer of grime and dust coated the timeworn stones, each one a silent witness to the wars fought and lost within these walls. The fortress around me seemed to lean inward, its very structure bowing under the weight of its own history, closing in like a tomb.

    The ceiling above sagged dangerously, beams of fractured wood struggling to support the ruinous weight of time. My footsteps had echoed ominously through the hollowed halls, each sound filling the emptiness with the ghosts of the past. The long shadows cast by my head and helmet danced along the crumbling walls, stretching across the once-proud hallways like spectral fingers reaching into the gloom. The air was thick, as if the fort itself was holding its breath, waiting for the final, inevitable collapse.

    And yet, with all the trembling spirits of history that remained, the one that stood before me had failed.

    ¡°You dishonor me, soldier. I¡¯ll make sure your replacement doesn¡¯t make the same mistake.¡± My voice was venomous, seething with contempt.

    ¡°But the girl... the ghost! It¡¯s what you wanted to know...!¡± The spirit pleaded, his form flickering more rapidly as I turned my gaze toward him, my fury growing.

    The spirit wasn¡¯t even part of my command, I realized, but an unfortunate remnant from an ancient war. His soul was caught here in this forsaken place, unwillingly summoned by my power, clinging to the remnants of duty. He had failed me, though, failed at his most basic task. A coward who ran from a mere undead maniac¡ªno magic, no harm. Simply a terrified man with a branch. The thought of it, the betrayal, burned through me like acid.

    The ghost¡¯s words, however, had given me a hint¡ªthere was more to this than his failure. The other spirit, the one that had been with the girl, had more to offer.

    I finally released the spell, watching his body shudder in relief. ¡°Return to your post and await further orders, sentry. Fail me again, and it will be your last.¡± My voice was colder now, detached from emotion, as I watched him disappear into the rafters above, his movement quick, desperate.

    Watching him fly off was infuriating. The way he sped away without a moment¡¯s hesitation, as if I were a mere inconvenience, grated against my every instinct. A soldier should fear their leader more than any enemy, yet here was a fool who had no respect¡ªfor me or for the dead. To see him so easily disobey his duty made my blood burn. How many had fallen to this very same fate? The fort, the walls, the very earth beneath my feet had seen more than their fair share of betrayal.

    The girl, though. A twisted, unsettling vision. A ghost with elongated spider limbs that twitched unnervingly, her crimson hair cascading down her back like a river of blood in motion. The description matched, every detail sharp in my mind. But the question gnawed at me: How in the hell did she become a ghost?

    Her appearance was a haunting puzzle, and I couldn¡¯t shake the unease that settled deep in my gut. There was something about her¡ªsomething not right. Was she a product of some new twisted curse? Or had she willingly embraced the afterlife in a way I couldn¡¯t understand?

    I rubbed a finger across my chin thoughtfully, the action almost reflexive as I marched forward, my iron boots clanging against the decayed wood beneath me. The sound echoed through the deserted hall, a mournful groan that matched the fort''s broken spirit. Each step seemed to shake the very bones of the structure, threatening to collapse it further.

    Stepping outside, I was greeted by the harsh midday sun, its light doing little to warm the cold, decaying ruins around me. The wind carried the scent of rot and moss, as if the very land mourned the death of what was once a proud stronghold. I stared into the distance, the sunlight harsh on my eyes, but the deep shadow in my chest, the one that had nothing to do with the ruin before me, remained. I contemplated the possibilities¡ªeach more troubling than the last.

    The most likely cause of all this was her late majesty, Queen Arach. A woman deeply spiritual, to put it mildly. In fact, she possessed the eerie qualities of a banshee, with her ethereal wail and presence that could freeze the air. It wasn¡¯t beyond the realm of possibility that Princess Ichni had inherited some of those... peculiarities. If the girl had indeed ascended to this state from her mother¡¯s curse, then it explained some of her strange abilities.

    Still, the thought was unsettling, like something out of a nightmare¡ªa once-proud princess now bound in ghostly form. It was a bizarre theory, no doubt, but then again, so was the sight of a headless warrior casually strolling through the meadows. When put into context, it fits. Strange, but not impossible.

    It occurred to me that the zombie might very well be a necromancer¡ªsomething I knew all too well. After all, my own ranks were filled with such dark practitioners, the kind who could summon the bodies of the dead and reanimate them as mere puppets. In fact, I too had dabbled in such art, though I preferred to keep my skill set to more... efficient methods. This particular zombie, if it were indeed one of those foul practitioners, could be a fledgling lich who had gone rogue, abandoning his comrades to align himself with Princess Ichni.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    It struck me as a possibility worth exploring, especially since the soldier ghost had said that this so-called "zombie" wielded nothing but a large branch¡ªhardly the weapon of a seasoned soldier. It made sense now: a novice necromancer, desperate for power, utilizing the princess¡¯s plight as a means to further his own goals. A simple, yet dangerous alliance.

    Was this necromancer truly working in Princess Ichni¡¯s best interest, or was he merely using her as a pawn in some twisted game? The thought of him manipulating her, twisting her into an instrument for his dark schemes, ignited a fierce heat in my chest. I could already see the despicable things he might force her to do¡ªcorrupting her with his power, stripping away any shred of her dignity, leaving her a shadow of what she once was. The very idea made my fists clench in rage, the ghost of my former strength making my bones ache.

    If they were planning anything at all, there was only one logical direction they would have gone. I turned my attention to Aratan Villa, where my returning investigation would take me next. The villa, with its quiet nobility, would provide more answers¡ªif not in the form of a chase, then at least in clues hidden among the streets and its blithering inhabitants. Whatever game these players were involved in, it would all lead back to that place. The questions gnawed at me, but for now, my course was set.

    As I leered towards the direction of the town, in the distance, I spotted a figure¡ªa lone adventurer. Her blonde hair shimmered like threads of sunlight as she nimbly loosed arrows at her prey, the creatures falling to her deadly precision. A huntress, I surmised. But more importantly, a potential source of information. She was alive, after all, and far easier to break than a shade or ghost. A few well-placed strikes and she''d be singing like a bird, if I cared to listen. My lips curled into a grim smile as I closed the distance, the familiar thrill of interrogation already rising within me.

    I moved forward at a deliberate pace, my form almost blending with the shadows cast by the slanting rays of the sun. The soft whisper of the wind rustled through the tall meadow grass, hiding my approach. Her back was turned to me, focused on the task at hand. She was busy carving the antlers from a hoplop¡ªan innocuous-looking demonic creature with the appearance of a hare, its prize a trophy of its short-lived life. It seemed a trivial task to her, but to me, it was just another opportunity for me to squeeze the words out of her throat.

    ¡°Look, grandpa, I didn¡¯t blow this one up!¡± she shouted gleefully, the cheer in her voice at odds with the grim circumstances she was unaware of. ¡°I bet that ghoul won¡¯t even know what hit him when I show up with these!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not your grandfather,¡± I growled, my voice dark and dripping with malice. Her eyes widened as she turned to see me, and she stumbled backward with a terrified scream. ¡°But I¡¯m certainly interested in this ¡®ghoul¡¯ you speak of. You¡¯re coming with me to the fort¡ªfor a little ¡®chat.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Wh-what the hell are you?¡± She shouted, her voice shaking with fear. The usual response. Humans, always so predictable. I couldn¡¯t help but smirk, a cold and amused glint in my hollow eye sockets. They all fell apart at the sight of my gaze, quivering like frightened animals, their bravado shattered in an instant.

    ¡°I am First Lieutenant Dullahan, the left hand of Demon King Malphas.¡± My voice rang out, a chilling monotone laced with ice. I didn¡¯t need to raise it to command attention; the weight of my presence was enough. Every word dripped with disdain. ¡°I control the undead, those bound by my will, and I know you¡¯ve encountered one of my disobedient soldiers. Don¡¯t even think of running. I can still make you speak, even with your limbs scattered in pieces. I¡¯d rather not add your broken bones to my collection... but I will if you force my hand.¡±

    She glared at me, her defiance burning through the air like a torch. Even I, accustomed to watching mortals crumble under the weight of my presence, felt a flicker of surprise. She was resisting? I couldn¡¯t remember the last time someone stood against me with such blatant disregard. A twisted grin stretched across my face. How fascinating.

    A voice, soft yet carrying a weight of wisdom, interrupted the tense silence. ¡°I am her grandfather, Lieutenant Dullahan. I must insist that you belay that order and allow her to continue.¡± The words were slow but firm, and they shackled me in place. I turned my head, still held by my arm, and my gaze landed on the figure who had spoken¡ªan withering old man, standing just a few feet behind me. His presence was an unexpected complication. How had I not noticed him before? He wasn¡¯t supposed to be here. How did he...? Ah.

    His eyes locked onto mine with a venomous disdain, the intensity in them resembling a maelstrom ready to swallow anything in its path. The mere weight of his gaze made my knee twitch involuntarily, and a sickening realization spread through me. I was at a severe disadvantage. My luck had led me right into the presence of one of my most dangerous adversaries, and I knew that even with all my strength, a confrontation with this man might very well end with me falling. The thought tightened in my chest, and I cursed the situation under my breath.

    I stood motionless, my flickering flames for eyes fixed on him, weighing my options in silence. Every muscle in my body screamed to be ready for a fight, but I could already feel the tension hanging thick in the air. His every movement was deliberate, his posture suggesting a readiness to strike. As I analyzed the old man, I felt a shift behind me¡ªquick, fluid. The huntress was preparing her weapon. I turned just in time to see her notched arrow, its shaft glowing with the hue of water magic, aimed directly at me. My options had narrowed to none; I was caught in a perfect trap.

    "I see," I muttered, my tone flat, my gaze unyielding. "It appears you''re right. Continue, then." My words carried no respect, only the cold realization that I was outmatched for the moment. "Good day to you, then, Pelagion." The name slipped off my tongue like a curse, its weight lingering in the air between us.

    "I don''t go by that name anymore, Dullahan," the old man said, his voice thick with bitterness. It was a warning, clear in its intent. His eyes locked onto mine with a ferocity that made my breath catch. The hunched posture he held didn¡¯t seem like the frailty of an old man; it was the poised readiness of a master predator, coiled and waiting. Each shift he made, though slow, carried the weight of someone accustomed to violence, and I could feel the tension building. If I didn¡¯t leave soon, I knew he¡¯d make his move.

    ¡°Ah, yes. How foolish of me,¡± I sneered, turning away with a cold laugh that echoed through the clearing. There was no use in wasting time with these two. They clearly weren¡¯t allies of His Majesty, just another set of distractions that would stew in their own hatred for my kind. They could whine and fester all they wanted, but they wouldn¡¯t get any closer to the truth. I had no more patience for their petty games. I spent too long with the old man once, so I was keenly aware of his aloof and dangerous nature. After betraying his trust once before, I knew I would not regain it again, through fear or otherwise.

    The guards at the gate, however, would be far more useful. They would tell me everything I wanted to know, down to the smallest detail.

    ¡°May the tides flow in your favor, then, elementals,¡± I said with a mocking bow, the sarcasm dripping from my words. Without waiting for a response, I turned my back on them, letting their glares burn into my back as I strode away. The lingering tension of their presence didn¡¯t concern me; they were just nuisances, beneath my attention. My focus was already elsewhere, my mind on a far greater prize¡ªthe runaway princess and the zombie, a mockery of loyalty itself, hidden somewhere in this forsaken land. The sooner I dealt with them, the sooner I could return to more important matters.

 Chapter 16: Taking The Left Stage Exit

    <hr>

    ¡ª Adrian ¡ª

    <hr>

    The next couple of days were a slow-moving montage of dread and boredom. Dullahan had been making the rounds, apparently treating Madam Bagel and Quen to his signature ¡°I¡¯m definitely the bad guy, now where¡¯s the ghoul?¡± monologues. From the looks of it, the dude was trying to patent fearmongering as a new form of interrogation. Classic.

    Then, in a stroke of ¡°What the hell is he thinking?¡± logic, he up and decided to head west toward the Fire Shrine. Maybe he heard the place was on fire sale for finding suspects. Either way, it left us with a rare and fleeting sensation of safety. Emphasis on fleeting. If there¡¯s one thing I knew, it¡¯s that safety in this world has an expiration date shorter than milk left out on a summer¡¯s day.

    Our allies in town proved trustworthy, though. Madam Bagel, Quen, and even that damned mouthy clown-turned-mime-turned-bard Climmard kept quiet. But let¡¯s not kid ourselves¡ªif anyone so much as sneezed in a suspicious direction, Dullahan would be back faster than a cokehead sensing free lines.

    Night snuck up on us, as it always does, but for once, it wasn¡¯t quite the ally I¡¯d hoped for. The guards, who were apparently experts at noticing when the sun went down, had already lit up enough torches to burn a small village. Not exactly the ideal setup for sneaking around, unless your idea of stealth involves flaming lights and a parade.

    With silver clutched in hand and looking like a walking armory disaster in a brown cloak, I shuffled toward Quen¡¯s shop. I opened the door with all the stealth of a barn door on a windy day and slammed it behind me, just for added dramatic effect. Who needs subtlety when you¡¯ve got that much flair?

    ¡°Welcome ta me blacksmith, what can I¡ªYOU!¡± Quen¡¯s roar hit me like a thunderclap before her hands did. In one swift motion, she grabbed me by the scruff of my already battered breastplate and yanked me clear off my feet.

    Before I could so much as squeak out a protest, I found myself in a new role: floor mop. She dragged me across the shop with the same enthusiasm she¡¯d probably use to haul a misbehaving goblin out by its ears.

    I flailed helplessly. ¡°Quen! Ow, ow, OW! Take it easy, I¡¯m fragile, damn it!¡±

    I hung limp as my complaints were ignored, like a tame kitten dragged by its mother. That didn¡¯t stop my mouth from flapping though.

    ¡°Ow-ow-ow! Quen! You¡¯re gonna tear me in half!¡± I yelped as she unceremoniously dumped me behind the counter like a sack of defective swords. By the time she released me, I was crumpled in a heap, my pride bruised worse than my backside.

    ¡°I got the silver! For the sword! And maybe some repairs!¡± I stammered, holding up the bag like it was some magical shield against her wrath. It didn¡¯t feel particularly effective.

    ¡°What in the bloody hell¡¯s this nonsense about getting torn in half?¡± Quen snapped, her voice the auditory equivalent of stepping on gravel barefoot¡ªgruff and unapologetic. She didn¡¯t even glance up, her focus entirely on the blade she was already grinding. Sparks flew like furious fireflies being told to get back to work. The sword in question had a regal look to it, although much shorter than my liking, with a black stone embedded in the hilt. The metal, almost a faint blue, showed a glow that felt a lot more mystical than your average steel.

    ¡°That bastard Dullahan was here, sniffin¡¯ about like a stray dog lookin¡¯ for scraps. Damn near got me shredded when he started askin¡¯ where you two fools went scamperin¡¯ off to!¡± she growled, her grinding stone hissing with each fiery pass.

    The casual threat in her tone was somehow scarier than the molten sparks flying past my face.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t go blabbing to him, did ya?¡± Ichni asked, her voice low but with a pointed edge. Crawling out from my gauntlet, she looked like a nervous cat caught between curiosity and dread. ¡°Did you even know that Adrian was helping me, who is-¡±

    Before I could even register her presence, Quen dropped to one knee with all the grace of a falling anvil. ¡°Oh... so you do know.¡± Ichni mumbled.

    ¡°Aye, yer Highness, I bloody know,¡± Quen hissed, flashing a sharp grin that could probably cut steel. But just as quickly as she¡¯d knelt, she plopped back into her chair with a loud thud to continue her work. ¡°I know you¡¯re a traitor to the crown, cozyin¡¯ up with a¡ªwhat¡¯s that? A lich?¡± She stopped mid-snarl, giving me a slow, exaggerated once-over. Her eyes narrowed, her lips twitching with barely contained laughter. ¡°Nah, more like some haunted mailbox. What¡¯s next, letters gonna pop outta him sayin¡¯ ¡®Return to Sender¡¯?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m standing right here,¡± I grumbled. If looks could kill, Quen would be using her own forge for a funeral pyre.

    ¡°Well, at least you didn¡¯t sell us out to him, so, uh¡­ thanks?¡± I said, offering a cautious nod, like handing a hungry bear a loaf of bread and hoping it wasn¡¯t into protein that day.

    Quen¡¯s response was a sharp snort, the kind that could strip paint off a wall. ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t sell ya out, don¡¯t worry yer bony arse ¡®bout that.¡± She waved her hand dismissively, the way someone might shoo a particularly dumb fly. ¡°I just told him ya were headed for the Fire Shrine and that he might wanna warn Bernie.¡±

    ¡°Wait, YOU WHAT?!¡± My voice cracked like a rusty hinge, but Quen just leaned back, utterly unfazed.

    ¡°Relax, ya rottin¡¯ scarecrow. That flaming bastard Bernie¡¯ll have his knickers in a twist chasin¡¯ shadows fer days. By the time they figure it¡¯s a wild goose chase, you¡¯ll be long gone.¡± She said it like she was explaining textbook tomfoolery, completely ignoring the fact she¡¯d just casually weaponized misinformation like a blacksmithing Sun Tzu.

    ¡°That Bernie One-Hander fella? Yeah, he¡¯s a proper twatwaffle, that one. Worst foreman I ever had the misfortune o¡¯ bein¡¯ in the same room with.¡±

    She leaned closer, her face a perfect cocktail of disgust and grudging recollection. ¡°Saw ¡®im dunk some poor sod into a magma core once¡ªjust ¡®cause he wanted to ¡®see if it cooled off already.¡¯ Spoiler: It bloody didn¡¯t. Poor bastard walked out lookin¡¯ like a roasted sausage, got two days off and a pat on the arse for his ¡®trouble.¡¯¡±

    I stared at her, mouth agape. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ horrifying.¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± she agreed, grinding her blade like she was imagining Bernie¡¯s face on the steel. ¡°But the real tragedy? It wasn''t even that poor lad¡¯s shift. He was just coming in for his paycheck.¡±

    I cringed at this poor fellow¡¯s abysmal luck, still confused as hell why she was telling me.

    ¡°He was burnt to a crisp, but it¡¯s more ¡®bout cruel irony than anythin¡¯ else. Now shut yer yap an¡¯ let me finish,¡± Quen snapped as I went to ask her the point, aiming the sword at me like a gavel condemning me to silence.

    ¡°The point is, Bernie¡¯s a bloody idiot. Like I said, he¡¯ll turn those mines inside out like a kid tryin¡¯ to find the last sweet in his candy bag. By the time they both realize they¡¯d been had, you¡¯ve skipped town here. You¡¯ll be halfway to nowhere, and Dullahan? That bastard¡¯ll be so busy chasin¡¯ shadows he¡¯ll think he¡¯s in a bloody puppet show.¡±

    I blinked at her, trying to process how this somehow both reassured and terrified me. "So, you''re basically saying we¡¯ve got a window of opportunity because Bernie¡¯s too dumb to find his own reflection and will drag his feet trying to find the excuse?¡±

    Quen shrugged, her grin sharp enough to hammer nails. ¡°Aye, now yer gettin¡¯ it.¡±

    I paused for a moment, and though I thought she had betrayed us by telling him where he was heading, she was right! If Dullahan searches the Fire Shrine and finds it empty, then he¡¯ll probably head back while we¡¯re sneaking about, giving us the chance to infiltrate the mines ourselves uninhibited. It was a risky gambit, but then again, so was every other idea I¡¯d had since reincarnating as an undead punching bag.

    ¡°Quen, you¡¯re a freaking genius!¡± I declared, the kind of elation in my voice that would¡¯ve made me pucker up if she didn¡¯t look like she¡¯d deck me for trying.

    ¡°Hold your ghoul-britches, Mr. Hero,¡± she said, voice dripping with that gravelly charm that could only mean bad news. ¡°There¡¯s one damn catch.¡± Her hand tightened around the blade she was working on, as if the metal itself could help her deliver the blow.

    The sword was mesmerizing¡ªshorter than I¡¯d prefer, but regal in a way that made my battered gear look like trash tied with string. The black stone that rested in the hilt shimmered like it owned the place, and the faint blue sheen of the blade glimmered with a mystical promise that whispered ¡°You¡¯ll never afford me.¡±

    Quen locked eyes with me, her expression as sharp as the edge she was perfecting. ¡°He¡¯s gonna come back. And when he does, he¡¯ll be madder than a cat in a bathtub. This town¡¯ll turn into a nightmare faster than you can say, ¡®Whoops, welcome back.¡¯¡±

    I twitched. The mental image of Dullahan stomping back into town, steam pouring from his neckhole, sent me reeling. If he didn¡¯t find us at the Fire Shrine, he¡¯d return to Aratan Villa ready to turn it into a pancake¡ªand us into the syrup if we stick around.

    ¡°Hell¡¯s bells, Quen,¡± I muttered. ¡°Any other cheery news to brighten my day?¡±

    Her smirk widened, showing teeth that gleamed as wickedly as the blade in her hand. ¡°Yeah. There is. Yer gonna fix this mess by doin¡¯ somethin¡¯ stupid.¡±

    I sighed deeply. Of course I was.

    ¡°Yer gonna be marchin¡¯ yer bony ass into the Maiden¡¯s Crypt,¡± Quen announced, her tone so nonchalant you¡¯d think she was sending me out for groceries. ¡°Find that secret hall everyone yammered on about a couple years back. Fetch me somethin¡¯ shiny, and we¡¯ll call it square.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°The Maiden¡¯s Crypt? The A-ranked dungeon Maiden¡¯s Crypt?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that one. What, scared ova few skeletons?¡± Her grin widened like she was daring me to chicken out. Spoiler alert: I was already halfway there.

    ¡°Are you out of your gourd? I have silver, right here! Silver! You can take it and call us square!¡±

    Quen didn¡¯t even blink. Instead, she hefted the sword she¡¯d been working on and held it aloft like it was the freaking Excalibur. ¡°Nah. You¡¯ll be even because you¡¯re gonna earn this, Mr. Hero.¡±

    I squinted at the weapon, unimpressed. ¡°Oh, you mean this glorified shiny toothpick? Look, it¡¯s barely longer than what I¡¯m carrying now. Can¡¯t I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°TOOTHPICK?!¡± she roared, her voice echoing so hard I swear I felt it in my bones. She jabbed the sword toward me, the blade catching the light like it was calling out to a celestial choir. ¡°You don¡¯t know what this is, do ya, ya murakka? This isn¡¯t some flimsy steel from a travelin¡¯ peddler. This is Elementium! Forged by yours truly! Go ahead, say ¡®toothpick¡¯ again, and I¡¯ll make ya eat it blade-first.¡±

    She thrust the sword skyward, and the fire rune on her arm flared to life like she¡¯d ignited a dragon¡¯s breath. Flames erupted from the hilt, consuming the blade in molten brilliance. The metal glowed like it had been pulled fresh from a forge, shifting as if it were alive. Lava coursed through the transparent blade, spilling over its edges as it extended into a weapon so massive it looked like it could split the heavens themselves.

    With a single, deliberate swing, Quen brought the sword down in a sweeping arc. A fiery crescent roared forth, slamming into the floor and leaving a molten trench behind. Heat washed over me in a wave so intense that I half-expected my skin¡ªor what was left of it¡ªto start melting.

    Its glow over my dumbstruck eyes left me a sweat-drenched wreck.

    When she finished the swing, the molten glow faded, and out stood a fiery behemoth¡ªa claymore that looked capable of turning mountains into valleys. Runes carved along its side flickered like they were smirking, daring anyone to underestimate it again. It practically winked at me as a sign of what it could be.

    The heat lingered in the air, and I swear I could feel my dried-out eyeballs practically begging for tears they didn¡¯t have anymore.

    ¡°SWEET PROMETHEUS AND AGNI AT A BONFIRE!¡± I shouted, my awe so overwhelming that it felt like my skeleton wanted to leap out and applaud.

    Ichni, not missing a beat, squealed like she¡¯d just seen the world¡¯s most unhinged fireworks display. ¡°NOW THAT¡¯S WHAT I CALL A FIRE! Somebody light my candles and call it a seance!¡±

    The mighty sword¡¯s flames died out as Quen gave it a sharp jerk, the fire vanishing like it had been vacuumed into some fiery void. The air cooled quickly, though the heat it left behind lingered like a bad sunburn. My body, which barely had enough moisture to sweat as it is, somehow managed to pull it off.

    ¡°I call ¡®er the Aether Blade. Made of pure elementium. Form of the weapon differs from person ta person, but you get the idea of what happens if ya gain the blessin¡¯ of an Element.¡± Quen said with a note of pride before placing the masterful sword on the workbench and then pouring a bucket of water over the scar in the ground she just made.

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful. Honestly, I haven¡¯t seen anything like this since I wielded Chandrabolg,¡± I said, a hint of wistfulness creeping into my voice as I recalled my old legendary greatsword.

    ¡°What¡¯s a¡­ Chandler-borg?¡± Ichni asked, tilting her head, her mispronunciation painted across her puzzled face.

    ¡°Chandrabolg. It was my old holy sword.¡± I corrected her.

    ¡°Chandrabolg. My old holy sword,¡± I clarified, trying to sound casual despite the nostalgia that tugged at me.

    ¡°Were you completely hammered when that name got slapped on it?¡± she asked, chuckling under her breath.

    ¡°No, actually. The gods handed it over already branded with that mouthful,¡± I said, crossing my arms in mock offense. ¡°Not my call, okay?¡±

    ¡°Huh. Figures. Gods are weird,¡± Ichni muttered with a shrug.

    ¡°Now, there¡¯s me end o¡¯ the bargain.¡± Quen jabbed her thumb at the Aether Blade. ¡°That beauty¡¯ll turn ya from some beggin¡¯ ghast inta Mister Hero quicker than ya can spit. BUT!¡± She thrust one finger skyward. ¡°Ya gotta prove to me yer tough enough ta handle real danger an¡¯ come out swingin¡¯. That¡¯s why yer headin¡¯ into that dungeon ta fetch me a fine bit o¡¯ treasure. Sure, the place¡¯s been picked near clean, but if there¡¯s a secret nook still hidin¡¯ about, ya know somethin¡¯ good¡¯s waitin¡¯ to be grabbed¡ªand I want it.¡±

    I mulled it over. This deal hit all the right notes: an honorable trial, a proper shot at something genuinely heroic. Still, I couldn¡¯t deny that part of me wished she¡¯d just hand over that sword so I could start carving my place in history, no strings attached.

    But I¡¯d let my sword skills rust. After waking up in this sorry excuse for a body, I¡¯d lost my drive. That stops now. Once I earn that blade and get a moment to breathe, I¡¯m jumping straight back into my old regimen, no matter how hard it feels.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what kind of treasure, right?¡± Ichni pressed, curiosity lighting her eyes.

    ¡°Nope,¡± Quen said, fixing her stern gaze on us. ¡°Long as it¡¯s valuable an¡¯ ya can swear it came from that secret chamber, we¡¯re square. Could be a dragon¡¯s skull, somethin¡¯ shiny ta mount on me wall¡ªdon¡¯t care.¡±

    ¡°And how we get it? Any method goes?¡± Ichni continued, her tone clipped but eager.

    Quen shrugged, the movement sending sparks off her grinding stone. ¡°Aye. ¡®member, lots o¡¯ folks have tried, only ta be run out by skeletons an¡¯ worse down there. Ya don¡¯t gotta slay the big boss ¡®less it¡¯s blockin¡¯ some secret lever. Slash ¡¯em, torch ¡¯em, whatever ya fancy. Just be back ¡®fore Dullahan returns, else we¡¯re all knee-deep in trouble.¡±

    ¡°Alright, Adrian, I think we¡¯ve got this,¡± Ichni said, clapping her hands and nudging me upright like a lazy recruit in need of motivation.

    ¡°Y-you sure?¡± I stuttered, then turned toward Quen with my most hopeful grin. ¡°So, uh, Quen... about borrowing that¡ª¡± I jerked my chin at the Aether Blade, only for her glare to cut me off cold.

    ¡°Not a damn chance,¡± Quen barked, folding her arms over her chest. ¡°If ya croak down there, I¡¯ll just tell Dullahan I saw ya wanderin¡¯ in. Covers me just fine! Plus, if ya did keel over, I¡¯d have to march in there and grab the sword meself later. Besides, ya got no elements, so a scrap blade¡¯ll suit ya well enough.¡±

    ¡°No worries, we¡¯re fully prepared,¡± Ichni chimed in, brimming with unwarranted confidence.

    ¡°W-we are?¡± I managed, my voice cracking slightly.

    ¡°Absolutely! Trust the tactician, Adrian,¡± Ichni said, flashing a sly grin. I narrowed my eyes at her, more than a little skeptical, but if she believed in this scheme so wholeheartedly, maybe I should just roll with it.

    ¡°Take the back door, slip inta the alley,¡± Quen instructed, jerkin¡¯ her head toward the rear. ¡°There¡¯s a sewer grate at the crossroads just beyond. Follow it south, an¡¯ ye¡¯ll pop out right near the tomb, less than a kilometer off. Can¡¯t miss it.¡±

    I offered a nod of forced confidence and slipped into the night without another word. Spotting the manhole Quen had mentioned, I paused. Instead of ducking straight in, I let temptation lead me deeper into the alley, gambling on one last detour.

    ¡°Whoa, Adrian, you just passed it!¡± Ichni chirped from the gauntlet. ¡°What¡¯s the big idea? Gonna waltz through the town gates and get spotted by every guard on duty? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re ditching my genius plan after all the effort Quen and I put in, just because you can¡¯t stomach a little sewer stench!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m snagging a bite first,¡± I whispered defensively. ¡°If I¡¯m stuck down there for days, I¡¯d rather not rely on whatever I last ate¡ªespecially if it¡¯s just that cleansing Chili Con Carne.¡± Without another word, I crept toward the Bagel Boutique.

    ¡°Oh my devils, ralla?¡± She scoffed.

    ¡°Ralla, ralla!¡± I remanded back.

    Moments later¡ªafter a furtive visit to the bagel shop¡ªI emerged triumphant with my first ¡°legendary item¡±: the elusive Headless Ham & Cheese Bagel Sandwich. Madam Bagel had just crafted it for her once-a-day special, and I¡¯d arrived in perfect time, delighting her with my purchase. Carefully wrapping it to shield it from the foul scents soon to assault my senses, I secured it in my pack, snagged a torch off a post, and slipped down through the nearest manhole cover into the sewers.

    To my relief, the sewer wasn¡¯t the apocalyptic odorfest I¡¯d braced for¡ªand my torch didn¡¯t spark a catastrophic methane blaze, so that was a plus. Wading into the murky flow, I grimaced at the ladder¡¯s awkward placement over a large mucky puddle and surveyed my surroundings. Apart from a few oversized rats skittering away from the flame, it was mostly just damp tunnels, dripping arches, and gunk-choked canals leading south, exactly as Quen had described.

    Judging by the water¡¯s pace, it felt like the town siphoned straight from the river, using nature¡¯s steady push to flush out all manner of unpleasantness. In theory, great for the villagers¡ªat least they didn¡¯t live ankle-deep in refuse. In practice, I was pretty sure all this sludge had to end up somewhere, likely forming a swamp that could breed a thousand plagues. Fun thought.

    Hoping that the Maiden¡¯s Crypt arrives much sooner than that, lest I have a shitty swamp dungeon on my hands, I saw the exit of the sewers as it met a moonlit meadow sprawled beyond it. Dousing my torch, I peaked out of the tunnel to see if any guards were stationed nearby, or perhaps a fifth-dimensional chess playing lieutenant waiting to ambush me.

    I waited until a bobbing torchlight above¡ªlikely a guard patrolling the terrace¡ªdrifted well out of sight. Only then did I pull my cloak close and slip into the night as quietly as an oily shadow.

    An hour later, after carefully skirting the town¡¯s perimeter and pausing for a breather against a half-rotted tree, I mustered my courage and leaned over the knoll to examine the ground roughly five meters below.

    ¡°Yup, that¡¯s definitely it,¡± I muttered under my breath.

    The Maiden¡¯s Crypt was, shockingly, a tomb¡ªan old brick gateway set right into the hillside I stood upon. Five armed skeletons paced lazily around the entrance, each clattering step drilling home the fact that I was well beyond my comfort zone.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan, Ichni?¡± I hissed, glancing at her spectral form hovering at my side.

    ¡°Count on plenty more inside,¡± she murmured, frowning thoughtfully. ¡°If we start brawling from the doorstep on in, we¡¯ll wear ourselves out fast.¡±

    ¡°Okay, full disclosure¡ªmy plan¡¯s kinda ¡®murakka,¡¯¡± she confessed, offering a sheepish grin.

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me now?¡± I sighed, but she waved a hand dismissively.

    ¡°It might be a dumb idea, my dear zombie friend, but they¡¯re even dumber,¡± she whispered, brimming with excitement. ¡°All we need is a little¡­ performance. You, with your crusty armor and undead look, will just shuffle on in like you belong. Trust me, they won¡¯t know the difference!¡±

    I stared at her, waiting for her to just announce ¡°Just kidding! Here¡¯s the real plan!¡±, but after she said nothing, I realized that she was dead serious. No, undead serious.

    ¡°They¡¯ll sniff me out immediately,¡± I objected. ¡°I reek of sweat, blood¡­ basically the whole human package.¡±

    Ichni leaned in, sniffed, and scrunched her nose. ¡°Actually, you smell like sewer slurry and gods-know-what else. Congratulations, you accidentally perfected your own disgusting camouflage! Besides, skeletons don¡¯t exactly have noses, silly pakkha!¡±

    As much as I loathed admitting it, she had a point. I¡¯d imagined myself as the valiant hero storming a dungeon¡¯s halls, not some shambling extra in an undead parody of a music video. With a heavy sigh, I resigned myself to this humiliating charade.

    ¡°Fine,¡± I muttered. ¡°But if this goes sideways¡ªand it will¡ªwe fight our way out. I don¡¯t care if we have to slash, burn, or lure them out one by one. Deal?¡± I finished, thinking about the ways we had to convince an owlbear to leave its nest.

    ¡°You¡¯re such a buzzkill, but fiiine,¡± she groaned, patting my cheeks lightly as if priming a canvas. ¡°Alright, showtime! Let¡¯s see your best zombie impression.¡±

    I idly stared at her as I went slack jawed, assumed my dopiest expression, and even tried to make one of my eyes point in a different direction. She puffed her cheeks and nearly choked on her stifled laughter.

    ¡°Shhh!¡± I said hastily, covering her mouth with my own hands. Her look of embarrassed shock quickly became annoyance as she shook me off.

    ¡°Sorry¡­¡± she whispered, still snickering. ¡°I was just thinking how hilarious it¡¯d be if I said you looked normal like that.¡±

    ¡°Har-har. But seriously, was it convincing?¡± I asked, trying to recall how zombies shambled¡ªan uneven gait, a dragging foot, maybe some incoherent groans. I¡¯d just have to wing it.

    She shot me two enthusiastic thumbs-up before slipping back into the gauntlet. With a resigned huff, I crept down the slope, ready to make my grand debut at ¡°Crypt¡¯s Got Talent.¡± Time to embrace my inner undead and hope my acting earned me a callback.

    <hr>

    ¡ª Ichni ¡ª

    <hr>

    I am¡­ an absolute genius! Honestly, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure I could outdo myself this time, but here we are. Cornered between a rock and a hard place, and I still managed to articulate a plan even Adrian could follow. Fine, I¡¯ll give him credit¡ªhe¡¯s not stupid. He might stand around slack-jawed and wide-eyed like some baffled peasant, but beneath that dopey expression lies a strategist¡¯s mind of a hardened general.

    It¡¯s not like we even have generals anymore¡ªjust four lieutenants and that pathetic, demoted Captain Onshi, who used to be top dog until he botched something so spectacularly that Father stripped him of rank. I¡¯m not entirely sure what he did, but apparently it was a colossal blunder during the human-demon war, enough to rob us of a well-earned triumph.

    At least Onshi still has the ambition, obnoxious furball that he is. Bernie ended up overseeing Makka Makka Mines after bungling task after task and pinning it all on his underlings. The Cryotect managed to freeze herself solid in the middle of some grandiose attempt at glory. Dullahan, though¡­ he¡¯s just Father¡¯s well-trained hound, never lifting a finger unless commanded.

    At least, that¡¯s what I used to think. I never knew about his ties to Madam Bagel¡ªwhat a sad tale, and she had to drag him into it. Always rattling on about doing things ¡°by the book,¡± Dullahan makes my bones ache. Whenever I try chatting about anything beyond castle protocol, he clams up and scolds me, saying my gripes won¡¯t alter a thing. Ugh, he¡¯s insufferable!

    Well, Dullahan, looks like my complaints did spark some changes¡ªone nasty argument with His Majesty later, and I¡¯m dead. All because I dared to ask why this realm ended up so cursed. No one wants to admit what¡¯s wrong with it. Time flows strangely, countless races exist, and their offspring might be something entirely new. Father, King Malphas, was a colossal, horned goliath, while Mother was more of an elven spirit. And then there¡¯s me, more cursed looking than the both of them and I ended up looking like the black widows that lurk in the corner of my windows. I don¡¯t even look like my parents!

    Mother understood something, but it only drove her mad. By the end, she couldn¡¯t even meet my gaze. I¡¯d thought myself special once, but with Father confining me to my wing of the castle and Mother refusing to acknowledge me, I realized I was considered a freak, even among demons.

    Ugh, just recalling it makes my nonexistent blood simmer. They wondered why I snuck out into the kingdom, mingling with common folk, partying until dawn? Because out there, nobody cared about my face or my lineage. I was free¡ªfree to make terrible decisions, free to be rude and crude, free to be utterly myself.

    Then Dullahan hauled me back, and I had that stupid fight with Father. Now my biggest issue isn¡¯t just being a weirdo¡ªit¡¯s being a cranky, soulbound ghost, stuck in a smelly gauntlet. Truly, my life is a gift that keeps on giving.

    But then Adrian shows up. It¡¯s bizarre¡ªI¡¯m a demon princess, and he¡¯s a literal lowlife oddball who just happened to be around when my world collapsed. Yet he¡¯s not cruel like Onshi, not rigid like Dullahan, and nowhere near as mindless as the rest. Sure, he¡¯s timid, but at least he knows his own weaknesses.

    Not only that, he¡¯s beyond confident that he can become fantastically stronger than he is now, enough so that he could face the all-encompassing might of my father. Though he doesn¡¯t have anything to show for it, he did manage to come back to life, and save me from becoming wormfood.

    On the other hand, he keeps talking about how he¡¯s the mortal enemy of demonkind, and how he wants to ¡°release the four lights to the world¡±. Why would he take me along when I¡¯m supposed to be the pinnacle of all that he despises? Is he saving me as a hostage? A bargaining chip? Or is there something else at play?

    No, I told myself, he might be angry about something that happened to him long ago, but he¡¯s either too dense to carry the grudge onto me or too soft-hearted to blame me for his struggles. Probably both. He¡¯s infuriatingly aloof whenever I toss a playful barb his way, as though unsure whether to laugh or sulk.

    And then there¡¯s that embarrassing habit of his¡ªthanking me shyly whenever I stitch him back together. It¡¯s not like he orders me to heal him, but what else am I supposed to do when he¡¯s hobbling around like a rusty scrap heap? I do it because I¡¯d rather not end up on a dusty shelf, obviously. Still, he¡¯s so grateful, as if I¡¯m doing him a personal favor. That bumbling fool, grinning at me like that¡­ it¡¯s enough to make me, I don¡¯t know, annoyed!

    That¡¯s why my current scheme is so brilliant. He trusts me enough to attempt the most absurd plans, and I¡¯ve been studying him closely. Whenever he deals with others, he tries to fit the role¡ªlike when that old man shot him a glare that made my hair stand on end, and he returned it with careful composure. Even when his mask slipped and I saw the pain he felt after he looked in the mirror, I watched. I¡¯ve seen the cracks, glimpsed the pain beneath the surface. Maybe I don¡¯t truly grasp what he¡¯s endured, but I know how he adapts. This upcoming performance? It could be his masterpiece, and it¡¯s all thanks to my genius¡ªbwahaha!Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    <hr>

    ¡ª Adrian ¡ª

    <hr>

    My legs jerked and wobbled like a newborn fawn¡¯s as I crept around the cliffside. The skeletons, who¡¯d been huddled together as if on some spectral smoke break, snapped to attention the instant they spotted me. Each was a mismatched collection of bone and scrap armor¡ªone had a dented helm perched at a crooked angle on its skull, another wore half of a rusted breastplate strapped on with fraying ropes. A third clutched a chipped buckler made from what looked suspiciously like a coffin lid, while its neighbor sported a ragged cloak that might once have been a banner of some forgotten lord. As they straightened, daggers with cracked blades flashed in the gloom, and a heavy club rose overhead, ready to strike. Their empty eye sockets bored into me, and their teeth clattered in a chorus of hollow menace, sounding like a perverse applause at my stumbling performance. Moss clung to a few of their ribs, and faint scratches on their bones suggested old battles or failed attempts at looting. The group reeked of ancient grave soil and damp stone, as if the graveyard itself had spit them out for an encore.

    But even these rattling sentinels hesitated when I tripped over a stray rock, pitching forward with a graceless ¡°Urrrrgh.¡± I flailed on the ground, an undead marionette gone wrong, then hauled myself upright. One eye fixed on the door ahead, the other drifting off to the side, I shambled closer, doing my best impression of a mindless ghoul.

    I nearly jolted when one spoke:

    ¡°Sayyy, Mason... did one of the boss¡¯s goons wander off, or sssomething?¡± hissed one skeleton, words crisp and oddly casual. I maintained my sluggish shuffle as another answered, ¡°Might¡¯ve crept out on Jerry¡¯sss shift,¡± its hollow gaze probing me as if trying to determine my threat level.

    ¡°You, zombie!¡± a third demanded, her tone sharper and distinctly feminine. ¡°Name and rank¡ªnow!¡±

    ¡°Mmmmrrrrgh¡­?¡± I moaned, tilting my head and providing the perfect blank stare.

    ¡°Told you he wouldn¡¯t talk. Just a sssstupid zombie,¡± sneered the first, its teeth rattling in mocking laughter.

    ¡°More like sssstupid Jerry, always letting these brainless ghouls wander off,¡± scoffed a fourth, dripping contempt for their absentee comrade. ¡°He¡¯s alwayssss sleeping on duty.¡±

    ¡°Eh heh heh, poor Jerry,¡± giggled the namer-demanding skeleton. ¡°All right, ghoul¡ªback to the kennel with you!¡±

    They parted grudgingly, allowing me to hobble past. I really leaned into the role, gurgling and moaning like a professional method actor. But I must¡¯ve laid it on too thick. With a snort of impatience, one skeletal guard planted a bony foot in my back and booted me straight down the staircase.

    ¡°Stop dawdling, you maggot-ridden dolt! Sssheeesh!¡± the female skeleton snapped. I hissed as I tumbled down each step, finally sprawled on the stone floor below. With a groan, I slithered into a side chamber, pale-blue torches lighting my path¡ªjust like those at that old ghost-infested fort. The room itself was empty save for broken pots and rusty tools. Perfect hiding spot.

    ¡°Nicely done, they totally bought it!¡± Ichni whispered, smug delight in her tone. ¡°I knew you could just be yourself.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I grumbled, ¡°but I might¡¯ve hammed it up a bit.¡± I rubbed my sore spine, fantasizing about rearranging that skeleton¡¯s jaw.

    ¡°Listen up,¡± Ichni continued, ignoring my gripes. ¡°This crypt isn¡¯t huge, but rumor has it some nasty newcomers moved in. Plus, we still don¡¯t know what¡¯s raising these skeletons. Keep your head down, keep your weird sensual moaning up, and watch for magic runes or suspicious brickwork.¡±

    ¡°Magic runes and weird walls?¡± I whispered, double-checking the corridor behind us.

    ¡°Exactly. Ages ago, someone found a journal belonging to the Maiden this crypt¡¯s named after. It hinted at some ¡®secret treasure close to her heart.¡¯ Mages and warriors came and went, finding nothing but danger. Now it¡¯s too risky for most. If you spot anything suspicious, like a false wall, let me know. I can check!¡± Ichni explained.

    ¡°You can phase through walls!¡± I hissed excitedly. For someone who first declared they weren¡¯t an encyclopedia, she was suddenly a wealth of information for dungeon divers.

    ¡°Yup! You shuffle along the left corridors like a mindless grunt, and I¡¯ll slip through the masonry to hunt for hidden rooms. Once we find something, we clear it out, grab the goods, and make a run for it,¡± she replied proudly. ¡°Now you see why my plan¡¯s brilliant?¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s why you¡¯re the royal tactician,¡± I said, mustering a shaky grin. She shot me a sour glare¡ªprobably remembering how I refused her the title earlier¡ªthen sighed and gave a small smirk.

    ¡°Can¡¯t be helped now. Off you go, my faithful zombie¡ªstagger forth!¡±

    I shrugged and obeyed, no point arguing.

    Wandering deeper into the Maiden¡¯s Crypt, I discovered that my clumsiest foe was the uneven stone floor. I had to shuffle by countless skeletons and zombies. Unlike oblivious shades, these undead were alert. While the skeletons watched me with hollow, unreadable eyes, the zombies offered a more visceral discomfort. Each bore tattered garments that might¡¯ve once been fine tunics or peasant smocks, now reduced to moldy rags clinging to sloughing flesh. A few wore mismatched boots or the remnants of a leather glove, as if dressed in a hurry before the grave swallowed them. Their skin ranged from ashen gray to a sickly greenish-brown, and their faces sagged with half-rotted cheeks, exposing yellowed teeth or even bare jawbone beneath.

    Some zombies sported bloated bellies or swollen limbs, pockets of decay and stagnant fluids trapped within. Others trailed fragments of old chains or broken spear shafts embedded in their torsos, mute evidence of the battles that claimed their lives. They moved with slow, uneven gaits, their shoulders hunched as though the weight of undeath itself pressed down on them. And while the skeletons seemed to judge me silently, the zombies hardly acknowledged my awkward passage. They never turned their heads fully my way¡ªjust a sluggish shift of milky eyes or a slack-jawed mumble that produced nothing but a foul breath. A few drooled thin streams of rancid fluid from torn lips, and a faint, wet rasp rattled in their chests with each step. They were an army of tragic leftovers, too dull to question my presence, too wretched to do more than shuffle aside as I edged past.

    Every step felt like a test, not just because I might trip again, but because I had to navigate this crowd of half-rotten horrors without drawing attention. If the skeletons were guards judging my worth, the zombies were the drooling audience, apathetic and aimless, content to let me pass so long as I didn¡¯t disturb their languid existence.

    At times, skeletons blocked doorways, forcing me to detour and giving Ichni a moment to slip through walls undetected. Other times, patrols of boneheads herded me along with their undead minions as if I were just another shambling drone. It felt like the world¡¯s slowest dance, weaving through dim halls without a hint of treasure. With each step, my hope for a secret passage or shiny prize dimmed.

    Not that the place was dull¡ªfar from it. Despite calling it a crypt, it was more like a sprawling underground labyrinth that had once aspired to grandeur. Twisting halls and low-ceilinged corridors branched off into open chambers, each lined with toppled pillars and crooked archways. Overturned coffins lay scattered like abandoned carriages, some with their lids half off, exposing the splintered wood and moldy satin within. Fragments of armor and shattered weaponry littered the floor, grim reminders of would-be heroes who had tried¡ªand failed¡ªto escape. Their bones, picked clean by whatever lurked down here, were strewn about like a cautionary tale spelled out in ivory and rust. The very stones seemed to whisper, Welcome to your doom, each uneven step and distant echo amplifying the sense of encroaching peril.

    The walls bore faint remnants of once-elaborate carvings¡ªwinged figures, crumbling sigils, and faded runes¡ªnow smoothed and blurred by the relentless creep of centuries. The damp air licked at every surface, encouraging moss and fungal blooms to sprout in dark corners. Strands of pale lichen hung like spectral curtains where mortar had cracked, and a slick, organic film coated some stretches of the corridor floor. The reek of death and mildew was thick, layered with a sour stench that suggested something more than just stagnant air. Watermarks marred the lower stones, hinting that a nearby canal might occasionally flood these halls, turning them into a foul, subterranean swamp. The idea of brackish, sewer-laced water rushing in made my stomach¡ªwhat remained of it¡ªlurch. The intermittent drip of moisture from overhead crevices punctuated the silence, while the distant skitter of unseen vermin hinted at more life than I cared to meet. Each torch¡¯s weak, blue-white flame cast jittery shadows on the jagged stone, illuminating every grim detail and ensuring I couldn¡¯t pretend ignorance of the horrors around me.

    When I shambled my way towards a particularly promising empty corridor, a lone skeleton stood blocking the doorway. I couldn¡¯t just whip around in an unholy u-turn, so I sauntered against the wall and was preparing to pass the bag of bones to come back later.

    However, this skeleton was apparently a bit keener than the others, because when it locked it¡¯s spectral flames for eyes on me, it made a move.

    ¡°You¡­ you are ssssuspicioussss¡­¡± It drawled in a disdainful tone. ¡°I¡¯ve not ssssseeeen you before¡­¡±

    I turned one of my eyes to it, slowly as I could, and began internally trying to will it to fuck off. As I kept a half-staring contest with it, I kept thinking of the word ¡°move¡± over and over. Suddenly, my chest tensed as though my breath caught on something menacing, and before I knew it¨C the skeleton straightened up and moved.

    ¡°Ssssssorry¡­ massster¡­.¡± It hissed, and I realized the smoldering flame eyes¨C once a blood red¨C were now a golden yellow.

    ¡°Master¡­?¡± I hissed, leaning in. ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°Yesss¡­ I felt the ownership of my ssssoul transfer¡­ to you¡­¡± It murmured without hesitation, moving to the side and giving a slight bow.

    Somehow, in my stare-off, I accidentally took control of the undead monster! I wasn¡¯t sure if it was because I was so mad it was about to tattle me out, but some sort of magic¨C a bizarre version of ¡®control undead¡¯¨C triggered between us.

    ¡°Adrian, you are a paladin!¡± Ichni whispered excitedly from her gauntlet, practically beaming from the gem. ¡°I thought you were just joking, but you really do have access to the fel Element!¡±

    The what Element?

    ¡°No, n-n-n-no, it¡¯s¡­ I wasn¡¯t able to do this before.¡± I hastily muttered, but Ichni giggled, clearly impressed.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, you¡¯re still trying to get a wrangle on it, right?¡± She said encouragingly. ¡°Does that mean you can talk to these boney bitches, too?¡±

    I froze. Wait. Did she not understand their clattering teeth forming words? It sparked a lot of flashbacks. The ghost at the abandoned fortress, the entrance to the crypt, here¨C was I the only one?

    ¡°I mean, I can talk to you, right? You¡¯re a ghost, technically undead!¡± I tried to reason, earning me a royal snort.

    ¡°Well, yeah, because I was alive at one point! People like me and Dullahan still have our souls, so we can speak our native language. A bonehead like this, though¨C¡± I felt her pointing at the patient servant waiting for my next orders. ¡°These guys are soulless husks, just echoes of life. What is this guy saying?¡±

    I looked at the skeleton expectantly, and realized it was just standing there.

    ¡°Ugh, okay.¡± Ichni muttered. ¡°Ask it- no, command it to take us to the treasure!¡±

    ¡°Take us to the room where all the treasure is.¡± I ordered, and like clockwork it went through the doorway I was casing out. Seeing that as our cue, I followed it. So, this was demon arts? I don¡¯t know why I can access the Fel Element, as Ichni so brazenly termed it, but if it means getting the VIP treatment I wasn¡¯t about to complain. If Quen had the fire Element¡¯s rune on her arm, why didn¡¯t I see mine?

    The nameless skeleton servant had led me with mindless fervor, and my new pace was getting the attention of several nearby undead. Like before, though, I would glare at them, think menacing thoughts like ¡°chill¡±, ¡°ignore us¡±, and ¡°fuck off¡±, and they would suddenly enter their debug obedience mode. By the time we reached our destination, I felt like I had control of over two dozen undead at my beck and call. Command Undead, as I termed it, had left me winded though, as though instead of my brisk pace I had sprinted a marathon. Whatever magic or mana this used, it was draining me swifter than I hoped.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Ichni whispered after we rounded what felt like the hundredth corner.

    Our skeletal guide had paused finally, where we confronted a massive dirt tunnel, easily two meters wide, clawed right through the corridor as if something huge had smashed in and out. To the left, darkness and slimy muck. To the right, a similar filthy path, but faint light flickered somewhere in the distance.

    ¡°The path ahead is blocked, master¡­¡± The skeleton croaked in a whisper. ¡°This tunnel will lead you inside¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright. Stand guard here.¡± I ordered, and it turned as though it had resumed its previous command before I ran into it.

    The nearby marked zombies ignored us as I told them to, so I stepped into the tunnel, slipping deeper into this makeshift passage. Halfway through, I noticed roots and stones poking from above. We weren¡¯t going deeper, just tunneling along the crypt¡¯s perimeter. Suddenly, the ground shuddered, the hint of distant light vanished, and a colossal shape slithered my way. Panic seized me as I realized something gigantic had blocked the exit.

    ¡°Shit, shit, shit!¡± I hissed, trying to backpedal, only to trip in the sludge and faceplant into the muck.

    Then came the tremors, like a runaway train bearing down on me. In an instant, I was pinned, buried alive in squelching mud. I couldn¡¯t see, couldn¡¯t breathe. Something heavy, slimy, and utterly repulsive pressed onto my spine as if the monarch of all slimes decided I¡¯d make a fine floor mat.

    Just as I thought I¡¯d die (again), the pressure lifted. I wrenched my head free, gasping as rancid air scorched my lungs. A slick layer of slime crowned my hair. Rolling over, I glimpsed the massive backside of a frog-like colossus slithering away, indifferent to my existence. Its mottled gray hide and hulking legs made it look like a diseased boulder lumbering off. Maybe I didn¡¯t smell appetizing enough. Praise be to any spirit of the Four-Lights listening.

    I heard the clattering and crunching of bones, and I realized that I inadvertently just ordered my first minion to an early retirement in the path of the monster. Well, shoot.

    ¡°Unholy shit, you still alive?¡± Ichni exclaimed, her voice an odd mix of relief and disgust.

    I nodded weakly, drenched in mud and slime. ¡°What was that abomination? Some kind of demon toad?¡±

    ¡°Frog, actually,¡± Ichni corrected primly. ¡°A frogfiend, and a well-fed one at that.¡±

    ¡°Whatever it was, I¡¯m just thankful I wasn¡¯t a snack,¡± I muttered, trying to clear my face. My armor¡¯s cracks were now cemented with filth. Perfect. Ichni chuckled, hovering nearby.

    ¡°Given your new makeover, maybe being eaten would¡¯ve been kinder,¡± she teased, prodding at the grime. ¡°Forget ¡®zombie,¡¯ you¡¯re a walking mud necromancer now.¡±

    ¡°I feel disgusting enough to pass as a slime¡¯s cousin,¡± I grumbled, flinging off chunks of muck. Louder now and far less graceful, I slogged forward, each squelching step a chorus of sloppy misery.

    ¡°Those must have been the ¡®dangerous B-Rank¡¯ monsters though¡­¡± Ichni murmured as she began to head back into the gauntlet. ¡°They¡¯re pretty restricted in their tunnels, but they can leap dozens of meters at a time, and their weight can crush you to death instantly if they land on you. Their jaws are like vices too, so once you get gobbled, it¡¯s game over!¡±

    ¡°So, avoid them topside and don¡¯t smell delicious. Understood,¡± I muttered. The tunnel forked: one path dark and descending, the other showing a distant light. I chose the lit route, rounded a bend, and froze at what I saw next.

    I emerged into a vast rectangular hall, lit eerily by rows of ghostly torches perched on tall pillars. Scattered throughout were countless statues¡ªif they truly were statues¡ªof various creatures, including a stone-carved frogfiend reclining as if taking a lazy nap. Many were crumbled or chipped, lending the place a strange, frozen-moment-in-time vibe.

    They weren¡¯t mere statues. These were petrified victims.

    At the chamber¡¯s heart lay a marble coffin, gleaming amid flickering torchlight, oddly pristine. On top of it, however, was a translucent humanoid body that hovered just a few inches about the structure. It was long, slender, and feminine, wearing a ghostly maid¡¯s outfit, and when the figure turned to me, I saw green hair that flowed like a fountain around her shoulders before ending in the head of snakes. Her eyes glistened in a purple hue as they bore into me before her eyelids lowered in disinterest.

    So this was the one responsible.

    ¡°Ugh¡­ another zombie.¡± She muttered as she turned away. ¡°How boring. I have enough of those already. I want more attractive adventurers to save me. Shoo, go away.¡±

    I debated whether or not to heed her advice and simply turn back around. I wasn¡¯t sure how well my shortsword, non magical for all intent and purposes, would fare well if it turned into a fight.

    On the other hand, there were big double doors that were begging to be opened on the other side, though giant pillars had collapsed on them. To the left of me, a barricaded door that felt as though it would eventually take me back to the hallway with the tunnel. Whoever this was, likely the Maiden if this is her crypt, didn¡¯t actually want any more visitors. I took a step into the chamber and began a clockwise waddle to check both doors. If trouble brewed, I¡¯d bolt like a mud-soaked hare.

    ¡°Ahh¡­ just like all the others,¡± she sighed, watching me with cobra-like boredom. ¡°Go on then, desecrate my tomb. Step closer and my lovely tresses will sink their fangs in.¡±

    ¡°Muuuurgh¡­¡± I moaned, staying in character.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right, you undead dolt.¡± She went on, looking at her well kept nails. ¡°I might not be able to step off this coffin, but everyone wants to violate my resting body for some trinket I wore in life. All have tried, all have failed. My venom consumes flesh and leaves stone in its place, and no one, and I mean no one, has survived it. Not even me.¡±

    Wait, she can¡¯t leave that spot? I glanced around and saw that all these statues, victims of her bite, were running away from her position, but there was a circular pattern of sorts. Some were on the ground just by the imprint, as though they tripped, while others barely reached the pillars. None past it, though. It appears that she has a ¡°reach¡± of some kind. Ichni must have noticed it too, because she came out with a look like she owned the place.

    ¡°You too, huh?¡± Ichni said haughtily, crossing her arms like a queen addressing a servant.

    ¡°What¡­ what sorcery is this?¡± the snake-haired maid gasped, twisting her neck in a spine-chilling 180-degree pivot to face us.

    ¡°I guess the princess is out of the bag.¡± I admitted, straightening my back and stretching the more sore muscles. ¡°Ichni, let¡¯s examine this door first, then figure out how to get past that blockade.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re alive?¡± the maid hissed, eyes wide with shock. ¡°You mimicked my undead minions so well¡ªexplain yourselves!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re adventurers on a mission to find the secret passage of the Maiden¡¯s Crypt. The one, actually, written in your diary!¡± I said, turning towards her. ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you would mind spilling the deets?¡±

    ¡°You waited until I told you of my plans before revealing yours? How cunning¡­¡± The maiden ghost growled. ¡°But it¡¯s not the ¡®Maiden¡¯s Crypt¡¯, it¡¯s the Maid¡¯s Encrypt! My diary was supposed to be a series of riddles and clues to find the sacred treasure that lurks in these halls!¡±

    I gaped at her maid¡¯s uniform, and it did explain why she was dressed that way.

    ¡°Yes, yess¡­.¡± She went on. ¡°I was instructed by my master to wait here in the bunker to guard its secrets in life, killing anyone who was foolish enough to approach it. Alas, my master has since perished, and without any food I did as well. Still, my spirit remains intact, and my bite will kill. And you know what the humans did when they realized that they could go no further? They turned my master¡¯s hiding place into a damn tomb!¡±

    ¡°So¡­ this wasn¡¯t supposed to be a crypt?¡± I asked, entirely unsure why I needed to know this.

    ¡°Of course not! It was a laboratory to experiment on humans after the war.¡± She hissed. ¡°Alas, one other discovered I can¡¯t leave my place, like you, and decided to torture me with song until I told him my story! He said he¡¯d make a coin off of my ¡®diary¡¯, and in return promised to send more adventurers my way to play with, that damned clown!¡±

    ¡°You got scammed by Climmard? Ahahahaha!¡± Ichni was laughing at this, earning her a reproachful glare from the maid ghost. The maid came forward, making me flinch, but her tail stretched in a way that reminded me of Ichni¡¯s boundary with the glove, and she stopped just a few meters short of me.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you come and say that to my face, brat?¡± The ghost demanded.

    ¡°Brat? I¡¯m a princess ghost, thank you very much!¡± Ichni said derisively. ¡°At least I get to move around and travel, you¡¯re just leftovers from a mad scientist with agoraphobia!¡±

    ¡°Leftovers, leftovers?!¡± She sneered, and then brought herself to some level of composure. Her voice smoothed into a cooing alluring hiss. ¡°Hmm, hmmm¡­ you there, ghoul boy. Or potentially¡­ master.¡±

    ¡°¡°M-m-master?¡± I echoed, baffled.

    ¡°Yessss, master. You¡¯ve clearly mastered some dark art to bind a spirit in that gem. That little girl looks like dead weight to a fine adventurer like yourself. Why haul around that little girl when you could have me?¡± she purred, striking a sultry pose. I swallowed hard, noting her, uh, generous proportions.

    ¡°Surely, you grow bored of playing babysitter for this kid. I, however, am trained in the Elite-Class maid rank.¡±

    ¡°The hell, that¡¯s a rankable class?¡± I remarked in shock. This was news to me.

    ¡°Oh Addy, don¡¯t believe that dujjan nonsense from this muso!¡± Ichni insisted, grabbing my face. ¡°She¡¯s just trying to trick you into getting closer and turn you into a door stopper!¡±

    ¡°Oh, but they are not lies. Even in this form I can fend for you in your sleep and in battle, I have enough strength to even cook and clean while you carry on with your life.¡± The maid cooed. ¡°I¡¯m even skilled enough to use my hands for¡­¡± She looked down past my chest, and I covered myself out of shame. She was trying to honey trap me!

    ¡°Oh ho ho, you¡¯re not appealing to the ladies, I assume, but no matter, master. I would take care of all your needs. I¡¯d even let you down into my old master¡¯s lair beneath this slab to gather all his treasure, including mine.¡± She went on, using her hand in a vulgar jerking motion. ¡°Just ditch the royal bitch and make room for little ol¡¯ me, won¡¯t you? You want a strong, experienced woman, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Oh puh-lease!¡± Ichni snorted. ¡°You¡¯re a second-rate maid with a third-rate wrist! Besides, I might not look it now, but Addy here got a huge look at the goods I pack! Plus, when he came out of the shower and took off his towel, I-¡±

    ¡°Holy Four-Lights, that¡¯s enough out of both of you!¡± I cried indignantly before pointing at the medusa maid. ¡°Especially you! Have you no shame in your disloyalty to your fallen master?¡±

    She blinked at me, startled. ¡°Huh?¡± Even the lifeless snakes that made the ends of her hair turned to look at each other.

    ¡°I am a chaste man by choice, but Ichni¡¯s right about her living form. Girl could crush a watermelon. She was at least twice as hot as you. Though like half as mature.¡± I went on, crossing my arms and nodding in thought. Realizing I was slipping towards degeneracy, I went on. ¡°Besides, you¡¯re just a bloodthirsty killer, and she can heal me.¡±

    ¡°Oh geez, Adrian, stop bragging about me¡­¡± Ichni stammered, red in the face in embarrassment. ¡°But keep going.¡±

    The maid stared at me, her face contorting into deeper rage each time I made a point. It was as if I had momentarily gained affinity with the Simp Element.

    ¡°Her highness got legs for days, you got a missed appointment with a vet! I¡¯ve seen the way she scoffs at my retorts, but you? I bet you¡¯d just fake a laugh. At least she keeps it real. Plus? Check it¨C¡± I make a broad sweeping motion over the magenta color that dips over Ichni¡¯s chest to her stomach, surprisingly earning me a pose from her like she¡¯s presenting a car at a gameshow. ¡°Black widow. The latrodectus hasselti. Boom. She¡¯s the scary kind too. I bet she has her own bite that can kill a fool.¡±

    ¡°Ohh, uh, Adrian¡­¡± Ichni was blushing furiously as she curled her hair. ¡°I think you¡¯re overexaggerating just a tad bit, y¡¯know? I¡¯ve never tried to bite anyone.¡±

    ¡°Oh please, you have bitten me at least once!¡± I exclaimed. ¡°And who knows, once you¡¯re alive again you can see if you can, uh¡­ envenomate someone?¡±

    ¡°Mate? What am I, some kind of spider in heat to you?¡± Ichni huffed, planting her hands on her hips.

    ¡°Envenomate means bite to poison, not¡­ never mind.¡± I sighed. The maid gawked at us as I pressed on. ¡°Look, you could bite enemies as a last resort!¡±

    ¡°I am not resorting to biting!¡± Ichni snapped. ¡°You call me pretty one second, then act like I¡¯m a crazed beast the next. Pick a lane!¡±

    ¡°I never said that!¡± I protested, exasperated. Ichni began wearing me down with a heated glare.

    The maid sniffed. ¡°I¡¯ve decided. I don¡¯t want to join you. At first I was tempted, then I considered lying, but now you¡¯re both insufferable. Working with you would be a waking nightmare.¡±

    ¡°Great, that¡¯s settled,¡± I said dryly. ¡°You mentioned a secret passage under that slab. We¡¯ll just pass on through, shall we?¡±

    ¡°Pass? Oh no, I¡¯m still going to kill you,¡± she said sweetly, drifting back to her coffin. ¡°But come closer, let¡¯s talk. Maybe I¡¯ll share the code¡­¡±

    ¡°Allow us safe passage.¡± I tried using my menacing voice for Command Undead, but she looked at me like I just told her to strip.

    ¡°Of course, master¡­ just come a little fucking closer.¡± She said, clearly not influenced by my fel power. Maybe it was like the rules with undead with souls, or I had tapped out on energy. She was the big bad boss of this lair, after all¨C it would make sense that I couldn¡¯t just wrangle her in with my ¡°level one¡± ability. Either way, I¡¯ll need to test this power out later.

    Ichni, thinking I was actually considering her offer, took matters into her own hands.

    ¡°Fat chance, naga-hair!¡± Ichni said, diving straight into the floor.

    The maid and I stared at each other in surprise, wondering what the hell the spider had planned. It must have clicked for the killer ghost maid, because she gasped and dove into the ground too. I looked around, wondering if I should help, and I heard shouting and things clanging underneath the rocky floor.

    After about twenty seconds of this, Ichni returned, her hair tousled into a mess, but otherwise with a triumphant look.

    ¡°She¡¯s guarding the control room to some kind of storm drain, ahahaha!¡± She cackled mirthfully. ¡°She¡¯s trapped in a cursed boot down there, and the only treasure she¡¯s in care of is a lever that makes sure the village¡¯s shit doesn¡¯t get backed up when it rains!¡±

    The maid ghost trembled with fury, clearly frustrated that Ichni had outmaneuvered her. She bared jade-colored fangs, itching to sink them into something, but her intangible prison left her powerless from this distance. This pissed her off all the more.

    ¡°I will kill you if you tell anyone.¡± She snarled. ¡°I¡¯ve been in charge of this place for over a century. If word got out that I was just some maid sent to operate a sewer pipe, my reputation as a lair boss would be ruined. RUINED!¡±

    ¡°I mean, no offense to you, madam.¡± I began, shrugging at the silliness of it all. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you can reach us from here.¡±

    ¡°True enough,¡± she conceded, lips curling wickedly. ¡°But I¡¯ve got a trump card. Leave at once, swear silence, and I may spare your wretched lives.¡±

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯d be fine with that,¡± I said, hesitant. ¡°But what about the treasure?¡±

    She jabbed a finger at the blocked doors. ¡°My master perished in there, leaving only his corpse and possessions. Perhaps one of his rings might fetch a decent sum¡­¡±

    ¡°A ring? That¡¯s loot!¡± Ichni cheered, clapping excitedly.

    ¡°You will not disturb his rest!¡± the maid snapped.

    ¡°Uh, yeah, we will, actually! Come on Adrian, let''s go desecrate a body this toothy tramp loves so much!¡± Ichni said with as much grace as a hag.

    We started walking towards the blocked double doors and the maid lost her mind.

    ¡°No, NO! His spirit perished in agony, he¡¯s only just found rest! You would act as vultures, chewing at his tragic tale for baubles and trinkets? I will NOT ALLOW IT!¡± She bellowed, enough so that I wondered if she was trying to raise the alarm.

    Then her throat puffed out as though she was a bullfrog, and she made a noise like a deep, ominous croak. What the fuck is she doing?

    ¡°What the hell is that supposed to be, some kind of mating call? Were you hoping you could belch at my sweet faithful knight to woo him? Or does your breath reek from all the ghost dick you choked on from daddy master dearest and you were hoping to make us pass out?¡± Ichni began hurling insults with enough force that I¡¯m surprised that the maid didn¡¯t perish from the blunt trauma of the words alone. The maid ghost kept croaking, and Ichni¡¯s barbs grew ever harsher.

    ¡°Oh look how she can ¡®deep throat¡¯, Adrian! Maybe her master was a bullfrog and she¡¯s crying out to him! Too bad she did such a merdu job as a maid that he put her in charge of flushing the crap out!¡±

    The maid was crying at this point, as though unable to withstand being compared to a designated plumber, but as she continued this bizarre guttural croaking, I heard an echoing croak coming from deep within the tunnel, answering her.

    ¡°Oh¡­ oh no.¡± I whimpered in a panic, abandoning the double door. ¡°She¡¯s trying to summon that frogfiend!¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, I am!¡± She blubbered with spiteful delight. ¡°I can¡¯t reach you, but it can!¡±

    Realizing I was seconds away from becoming a frog¡¯s dinner, I bolted for the other door. I struggled to pry loose a heavy wooden beam that barred it, but before I could gain any ground, the frogfiend emerged from the tunnel, its bulk filling the space like a living, mucus-slick battle tank. It paused, surveying the corridor with a slow, arrogant blink, as if perplexed by the commotion. Its bulbous eyes fell upon the maid¡¯s hovering form. She resumed her pitiful croaking, jabbing a finger in our direction. Slowly, the frog turned our way, its wide mouth twisting into a nauseating grin, as if it had just been handed the perfect meal.

    ¡°Uh-oh,¡± I breathed, dread coiling in my gut. The frog launched itself forward with horrifying speed, each leap hammering the floor and rattling my bones.

    ¡°Tonight, you dine in hell, my beloved frogfiend!¡± The ghost shrieked in cackling glee.

    With a desperate grunt, I shoved the wooden barricade aside and slipped through the narrow doorway. The monstrous frog¡¯s bulk whooshed past behind me, its foul breath brushing my spine like a deathly caress. The giant figure pressed the door shut as it flew by, and for a split moment, the sudden silence felt like it was business as usual¨C I knew full damn well it was time to clock out, though.

    Sword clutched tight, I sprinted into another corridor. Startled zombies and skeletons gaped at my sudden appearance¡ªapparently, I¡¯d just gatecrashed their undead lunch break. They stared, uncertain whether I was ally, enemy, or some horribly misplaced stage performer.

    ¡°Argh, murgh, ¡®cuse me, pardon me, coming through!¡± I began grunting and shouting as though trying to roleplay a polite ghoul on crack.

    Right on cue, the doorway behind me exploded in a shower of shattered stone, the frogfiend forcing its colossal bulk through a gap it had no right to fit. Zombies gawped, slack-jawed, while a few had the good sense to shuffle off as fast as their rotting legs could carry them.

    A skeleton raised a bony finger, about to alert the whole crypt¡ª¡°An intruder! There¡¯s an in¡ª¡±

    I didn¡¯t let it finish. With a deftly practiced swing, I lopped off its jaw and half its skull, splintering bone into a grisly mosaic on the floor. Poor guy. Maybe that was Jerry. If so, guess he finally got the nap he wanted.

    ¡°All of you, block that creature¡¯s path!¡±  My voice practically seethed with faux authority, and I felt my gut wrench in pain as the undead turned to face the massive frog. I couldn¡¯t use that again if I needed to make it out of here.

    A frantic chase ensued, me sprinting through winding halls, the frog close behind. It barely fit, yet still managed to squeeze after me with dreadful persistence. I slammed doors, the undead barreled into its path¡ªnothing helped. I couldn¡¯t hide, not leaving muddy footprints with every step. My panicked panting mixed with the slosh of muck underfoot and the deep, thunderous croaks echoing in my wake.

    ¡°I promise, I won¡¯t taste good!¡± I began pleading. ¡°I¡¯m half-rotted, covered in shit, mud, and slime!¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ll block you up, so at least spit the glove out!¡± Ichni added, and my bulging eyes popped out at her. The traitor!

    As I made the final corner, I saw the stairs that led upward to freedom- and the five skeleton guards, weapons drawn and ready. Like they had done in the beginning, they began chattering their teeth at me like tails of a rattlesnake, warning me that death was the only way forward if I approached them.

    Before I could lunge for the skeletons, too exhausted to demand they take my side instead, the frog bounded into view behind me. Its bulging eyes locked on, and in a blur of motion, its sticky tongue lashed out, coiling around my torso. I jerked back, sword spinning away, as it reeled me in like a prize catch.

    ¡°Adrian, NOOO~!¡± Ichni screamed, the gauntlet forcing her along for the ride as she dragged across the ground. The frogfiend¡¯s jaws snapped open, slurping us down like a pair of slimy noodles.

    It was gross. Let me tell you, if I thought that the slimy underside of this hideous creature was a foul substance, the saliva of this thing made it smell like scented candle wax. Its rancid breath choked me, its gullet tightening around my legs, dragging me deeper into that horrible maw. It wanted to swallow me whole¡ªan ending I would not accept.

    ¡°Adrian, use your magic, your chanting, anything!¡± Ichni began pleading to me in the dark. I began rummaging my gear for something. I cursed when I found the sacred bagel sandwich still wrapped away, but when I felt one of my bags, I shouted in delight. I opened the wet pouch, dumped the entirety of its contents on this stupid frog¡¯s tongue, and waited.

    The frog convulsed violently, gagging, and then spat us out in a geyser of slime. We skid across the floor, crashing into the skeleton guards, scattering their bones like bowling pins. I scrambled up, reclaimed my sword, and watched the frog thrash about, likely poisoned by whatever I¡¯d just force-fed it. Not what I¡¯d planned, but I wouldn¡¯t complain. Let it writhe¡ªit was my cue to leave.

    I bolted up the stairs, bursting into daylight so bright it stung my eyes. Without slowing, I pelted toward the river, desperate to wash off the slime and filth before I keeled over from sheer disgust.

    ¡°I HATE SLIME!!!¡± Was all I could muster in my rage.

 Chapter 17: Itéˆ¥æªš A Small World, After All

    The Royal Spider Princess perched herself on a makeshift bench near the riverbank, pointedly facing away while I stripped off my armor and clothes to wash away the grime and shame of our recent escapade. I finally understood¡ªwhy so many adventurers always smelled like a damp goat: the world itself conspires to marinate you in filth. Right now, scrubbing off layers of sludge, I felt like I¡¯d clawed my way out of a fresh grave. The stench had been so foul I half-expected flies to file a stench complaint.

    ¡°So, what exactly did you use to take down that frogfiend? It wasn¡¯t fel, was it?¡± Ichni inquired, sneaking glances over her shoulder whenever she assumed I wasn¡¯t paying attention. Apparently, her misadventure she admitted to having from my post-shower depression scene was leaving her eyes wanting, but I was so bothered by the muck that I didn¡¯t care if she wanted to peek. My pathetic pale complexion made me look like I could¡¯ve crawled from the deep trenches of an ocean.

    I grimaced, still recalling that vile tongue. ¡°The spare spice pouch Randy slipped me for Quen¡¯s stew. It was potent stuff, so I pocketed it. Turns out it doubled as emergency frog deterrent.¡±

    ¡°Oh ho! So you treated it to the local specialty!¡± Ichni teased, running her fingers through her hair. ¡°You might¡¯ve actually killed it with those spices. Can frogs even handle heat?¡± she wondered, staring thoughtfully at the sky as if expecting culinary answers from a cloud.

    ¡°Who knows? It either hated the spices or the smorgasbord of sewer muck on my boots,¡± I said, shrugging. ¡°I¡¯m not complaining either way.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you should armor yourself in slime next time,¡± Ichni giggled, ¡°then no beast will dare snack on you!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather shit in my hands and clap than go through that again.¡± I scowled, the memories finally becoming an afterthought. ¡°We have a bigger problem, though.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ no treasure.¡± Ichni murmured, annoyed at our shared failure. ¡°How were we supposed to know it wasn¡¯t a real dungeon?¡±

    ¡°Nope, that was a dungeon and I¡¯m sticking to it,¡± I insisted. ¡°We had monsters, a boss, and corpses galore.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t a ¡®real¡¯ dungeon have traps, though? Like pits, spikes, poisoned darts?¡± Ichni countered, sounding just as uncertain about the official dungeon criteria as I was.

    ¡°They have though in the more dangerous ones, you¡¯re right.¡± I said encouragingly. ¡°Magic traps, pit falls. Thing is, if there were traps, I knew those zombies and skeletons would have triggered them long ago.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, proper dungeons often have magical snares or pit traps,¡± I agreed. ¡°But if there¡¯d been any, those undead shamblers would¡¯ve set them off ages ago.¡±

    ¡°Oh! Good point,¡± Ichni said, impressed. She turned just as I was mid-change, my pants hanging from a stick. Her gaze lingered with an oddly expectant look, as if waiting for a punchline I wouldn¡¯t deliver.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I muttered, pulling on my clothes. ¡°No more cracks about my bony figure?¡±

    ¡°Oh natt, I¡¯ve got a whole arsenal stored up,¡± she assured me with an unexpectedly warm smile. ¡°I was just thinking¡­ we¡¯d make a pretty good team.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re already a team, aren¡¯t we?¡± I asked, puzzled by her phrasing.

    ¡°Well, yes, now. But I meant if I were alive again,¡± she clarified, her smile dimming slightly. ¡°I had talents beyond just healing magic, you know.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll hazard a guess¡ªwall-climbing?¡± I ventured, picturing a certain spider-themed hero from my past life.

    ¡°How did you guess?¡± Ichni gasped, genuinely startled I¡¯d nailed it on the first try.

    ¡°Just a hunch,¡± I said, buckling on my freshly rinsed armor. ¡°I still bet you¡¯ve got a venomous bite.¡±

    ¡°For the last time, I don¡¯t!¡± she snapped, folding her arms indignantly. ¡°And don¡¯t you dare tell anyone I spin webs from my butt, you murakka!¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright. I¡¯ll admit though, there¡¯s a lot of creatures I wasn¡¯t expecting when I came here.¡± I said in surrender.

    ¡°Oh yeah, like what? The hoplops?¡± She asked as I approached her, equipping her gauntlet and my glove.

    ¡°Sure, them too, but also dog-folk, those mail-delivery bird creatures¡ª¡± I began, only for Ichni to pinch my cheek mid-sentence. ¡°Ow! What gives?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re people, got it? Call them people or use j¡¯ana if you¡¯re feeling fancy,¡± she said, annoyed. ¡°No more calling them monsters.¡±

    ¡°J¡¯ana?¡±  I asked, trying to add to my demon lingo.

    ¡°It literally means ¡®people,¡¯¡± Ichni said with a disapproving click of her tongue.

    Ohhhh. All this time I¡¯d been casually labeling her friends and townsfolk as monsters¡­ wonderful.

    ¡°Right, sorry,¡± I offered, sheepish. ¡°I¡¯m just used to the idea that anything sporting fur, feathers, or fangs is out for my blood. Your hungover harpy pal looks eerily like one that tried to kill me before.¡±

    Ichni sighed. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I get it. Humans blur together for me too sometimes. Just don¡¯t go cleaving Hilda in half next time, okay?... Although you seemed to have gotten sweet for her, if I remember right.¡± She smirked at me as the memories of mistaking Hilda as a poor overworked lass began to haunt me.

    ¡°I¡­ I am reformed of that notion.¡± I blurted, as we made our way back to Aratan Villa empty handed. ¡°It¡¯s not just her, though. Keeping a straight face for the wolf-man took some willpower. Until he opened his mouth, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re more obnoxious than dangerous, but they will talk to you to death if you give them the chance.¡± Ichni teased, running her fingers through my damp hair as if to brush off the last drops.

    ¡°And Quen, the green lady at the blacksmith? She has the mouth of a foul sailor, but it was the first time I¡¯ve seen an orc.¡± I admitted, earning me another smack. ¡°Ow, what now?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s keep descriptors of them limited to NOT their skin color, khippa. Please.¡± She chided me.

    ¡°Okay, but she was literally green!¡± I protested.

    ¡°She was strong, confident, and skilled in her craft, too! You don¡¯t need to be skin deep when you think of the woman we¡¯re about to report our failure to!¡± She continued to scold.

    ¡°Okay, shit, sorry!¡± I begged as she tugged on my ears. Her grip was weak, but I was almost certain my ears would fly off if I let her keep pulling.

    ¡°Is every town like this? A mixed culture of humans and¡­ other kinds of folks?¡± I tried changing the subject, carefully choosing my words. She mulled the question over.

    ¡°Ha! Oh definitely not.¡± She responded with an amused smile. ¡°There¡¯s a village full of hot fish women that want to fuck any guy with a heartbeat.¡±

    ¡°Sweet holy chastity belt, really? I better girder my loins then next time I¡¯m in the water.¡± I said sarcastically. ¡°Where is it exactly so I know where to avoid it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just messing, you pervert!¡± She chuckled to herself for the gotcha moment, ignoring my sarcasm. ¡°There is a harpy village though that, uh.. You should be careful around during their mating season.¡±

    ¡°Gods bless it. I¡¯ll be on my guard if I see a cliffside full of them, then. Sounds like a ¡®one-night drop¡¯ rather than a one-night stand,¡± I joked, attempting levity of the difficult discussion we were going to have with Quen later.

    As I followed the canal that fed from the sewer, I could soon see the outline of the town coming ever closer. I realized that there was no way I would be sneaking in without donning another bush disguise, and I¡¯d rather risk smoothly talking to the town guards again.

    ¡°They actually nest in a giant tree,¡± Ichni corrected, drifting in front of me, finger raised like a teacher. ¡°Pop quiz: can ¡®monsters¡¯ be called people too?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes. We just said so, unless you¡¯re trying to bait my usage of ¡®monsters¡¯ earlier, which I¡¯m not falling for!¡± I said hurriedly as she reached for my ears.

    ¡°Alright, fine. Then what makes a monster different from a person?¡± Ichni pressed, her tone more earnest now, as if testing my moral compass.

    ¡°I, uh¡­ if they can speak for themself, think for themself, and love for themself.¡± I said, reciting an edited version of a holy scripture. ¡°Then they can uphold the law for themself, and care for more than themselves.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit lofty, but I¡¯ll take it,¡± Ichni mused. ¡°I was going to say ¡®people pay taxes,¡¯ but your version works.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure the archer lady and the old man don¡¯t pay taxes, and I would refer to them as people.¡± I said matter-of-factly. ¡°I¡¯m sure any creature out there can be considered a person, given the right environment. I¡¯m a person!¡±

    ¡°Am I a person to you?¡± she asked, slyly.

    I shot her a pointed glare. ¡°You mock me enough to qualify as one, yes,¡± I huffed, pushing past her. I wasn¡¯t stepping into that snare.

    ¡°If the test was that easy, I would have applied for my ¡°j¡¯ana permit¡± long ago!¡± she teased with a laugh.

    ¡°Though Onshi was pretty sarcastic too,¡± I muttered, trying to deflect.

    ¡°Ah, so is he a person to you?¡± she pressed, clearly amused by my dilemma.

    ¡°Nope, definitely a demon,¡± I declared flatly.

    ¡°What¡¯s the catch, then, mitre?¡± she asked, pushing for more details.

    ¡°Most call it humanity, but let¡¯s say empathy,¡± I explained, recalling the Lion-Oger¡¯s cruel glare. ¡°People, even animals, can show compassion.¡±

    ¡°And those so-called monsters you mentioned?¡± Ichni prompted.

    ¡°Even monsters¡ªor folks part demon¡ªcan show compassion, I¡¯ve learned. But Onshi clearly lacks it. He¡¯s pure demon, no empathy at all,¡± I concluded, pleased with my reasoning.

    ¡°You¡¯re forgetting one detail,¡± Ichni said softly, settling on my shoulder.

    ¡°And what¡¯s that, more terminology?¡± I remarked at the lessons of social etiquette I was being force fed.

    ¡°I¡¯m the daughter of the DEMON king.¡± Her phrasing of the word ¡°demon¡± was rather dramatic, but she got the point across. Now clutching at straws, I rubbed my chin for an easy excuse.

    ¡°Uh¡­ maybe you¡¯re adopted?¡± I quipped, hoping to dodge the moral minefield.

    ¡°Ha! If only. I¡¯ve got his nose and his nasty temper, no escaping that lineage,¡± she said, laughing, though her eyes told another story. The adoption crack must¡¯ve stung.

    ¡°Then maybe he gave you empathy, too?¡± I offered gently. She dismissed the idea with a wave.

    ¡°Heh¡­ if anyone deserves credit for my empathy, it¡¯s my mother. She loved everyone¡ªwell, almost everyone,¡± Ichni said softly, her smile turning somber.

    ¡°What happened to her, Ichni?¡± I asked, trying to finally figure out what made her so sad.

    ¡°I¡­ not now, Adrian. Another time, perhaps. Khippa.¡± She finished, slinking away from the thoughts that were trapped in her head.

    ¡°Oh, alright. Well, just know if you ever do want to talk about it. I¡¯ll be here.¡± I said, trying to be as supportive as I can.

    ¡°Thanks, Addy. I know.¡± she replied softly. With a slight nod, she vanished into the gauntlet, leaving me alone with my own thoughts as we neared the southern gates.

    The guards at the gate, a husky mastiff-man and the bulldog-woman from before, recognized me on sight. Instead of tossing me in irons, they informed me, with thin politeness, that Lieutenant Dullahan was seeking an audience. Fantastic¡ªnothing like a probable death sentence to start the morning. I thanked them, feigning calm, and promised to find Dullahan straight away. They let me pass without a fuss. For now, I was just a ¡°person of interest.¡± How he knew about me at all was a puzzle I didn¡¯t relish solving.

    Heading into the southern district, home to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, I pondered grabbing a last-ditch quest to improve my rotten luck. My adventurer¡¯s card said I was as lucky as a cat in a kennel, but maybe fate would throw me a bone. Passing by, I noticed the guild hall looked surprisingly fresh, almost as if it had undergone a speedy renovation since I¡¯d last seen it. Looks like Rosalina has been spending extra on elbow grease!

    My hand hovered over the guild¡¯s doorknob, but I paused. Avoiding Quen wouldn¡¯t solve anything. Worst case, she¡¯d refuse my excuses and force me to pay full price for a decent blade. Maybe I could return later with proof of my valor¡ªlike after freeing a spirit at that first shrine. A tangible display of heroism might soothe her temper.

    I continued along the cobblestone streets, marveling at how this small community thrived on what felt like the edge of reality. If no one could leave (as that invisible barrier suggested), how did commerce endure? No lively family shops popped up to greet me, but I also saw no empty storefronts or signs of struggle. Did people here even trade property? Could someone just¡­ buy a home in a world sealed off from beyond? It was a strange thought¡ªthat prosperity could exist in a closed loop, no newcomers or departures, just eternal recycling of goods and fate.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I was lost in my own idle thoughts, half-expecting to run into that demon hooker again around the next corner, when suddenly¡ªit hit me. A suffocating presence crashed into my senses, freezing me mid-step. My muscles seized, my breath caught in my throat, and a phantom chill gripped my shoulder. For a heart-stopping moment, I could¡¯ve sworn death itself hovered behind me, waiting with open arms. My chest heaved in ragged gasps, eyes darting frantically for whatever monstrous force radiated this malicious aura, as though mere sight might kill me on the spot.

    I turned westward, towards Madam¡¯s Bagel Boutique, and there he stood. A towering figure sheathed in twisted metal armor from shoulders to sabatons, chatting casually with a guard who looked as rattled as I felt. His pauldrons bore weeping skulls, and they bobbed as if he were chuckling at some shared joke. Then the guard pointed my way, and the knight¡¯s head¡ªyes, his head, held casually under one arm¡ªswiveled to meet my gaze. Our eyes locked, and in that instant, I knew who commanded the suffocating aura of doom.

    He wore a horned helmet framing stringy white hair, and his eyes were neon-blue embers flickering with cruel amusement. At first, I might¡¯ve been just another backdrop in his perfect diorama, but then he twitched. Recognition flared, and suddenly I was no longer a random extra¡ªI was prey.

    ¡°Oh, MERDU. He¡¯s HERE?!¡± Ichni¡¯s voice shrilled inside the glove, panic crackling in my ear. Her alarm was quickly overshadowed by a thunderous bellow that swept the entire street. Dullahan, head in one arm, the other arm extending to point at me, spat out a single word:

    ¡°You.¡±

    He began trembling, not with laughter but burning fury. ¡°YOU! YOU DARE!¡±

    ¡°Oh, look at the time!¡± I shouted back. ¡°It¡¯s fuck-off-o-clock, and I got an appointment for anywhere but here, buh-bye!¡±

    I knew I was dead the moment he reached me, but the moment I saw him lower his body, I wasn¡¯t prepared for the speed he took off at. He crouched, then launched forward with terrifying velocity. Each footfall struck like a hammer on an anvil, leaving dents in the street. I bolted before he could close the gap, heart in my throat.

    With no weapon to speak off, I still couldn¡¯t shake off the dooming thought that this evil knight could snap my neck in a second. I hauled my sorry skin off the corner, into an alley, and frantically looked around to hide.

    ¡°Adrian, the sewers!¡± Ichni suggested in a panic. ¡°Maybe we can lose him in there!¡±

    I lifted the nearest manhole cover up with what felt like peer adrenaline, pencil dived in, and let the cover clang noisily in place as I fell into the stone side of the gutter with an disgraceful tumble, wincing at both the pain and the echo that announced my escape route all too clearly.

    Ignoring my aching limbs, I grimaced at the blackness pressing in from all sides. Only a faint glow from a distant grate offered any guidance.

    ¡°Ichni,¡± I hissed, voice trembling, ¡°not a great time to mention this, but I¡¯m not so good with the dark!¡±

    Shaking, I fumbled for my torch, cursing when I remembered I lacked a spark to ignite it. I shuffled along the damp brick wall, aiming for that distant patch of light, heart pounding.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Ichni urged, forcing optimism. ¡°Dullahan¡¯s persistent, sure, but he can¡¯t smell you down here. He¡¯ll spend a moment searching, get bored, then stake out the likeliest exit. We¡¯ve got time to move, trust me!¡±

    A sudden GONG echoed behind me, flooding the tunnel with harsh light. I whirled, horrified to see Dullahan entering the sewers. He hadn¡¯t simply opened the manhole¡ªhe¡¯d smashed it down with such force it ricocheted into the waters below. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He¡¯d followed me with terrifying accuracy.

    ¡°HOW DARE YOU?¡± he snarled, voice echoing with centuries of hatred. He leveled a gauntleted finger at me, each ragged breath stoking his fury. ¡°SPINELESS WORM! I UNDERSTAND YOUR TERROR OF MY SCORNFUL EYES, YET YOU FLEE AFTER DENYING ME ONE OF MY FEW PLEASURES?!¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ what?¡± I stammered, inching towards the dim light. His heavy steps followed, each one a ticking second off my life.

    ¡°THE BAGEL,¡± he thundered, voice so furious it conjured a phantom wind. ¡°THE SACRED BAGEL SANDWICH I SAVORED WHEN I VISIT THIS PLACE!¡±

    I nearly pissed myself when I felt the force of his overwhelming disgust. ¡°THE NERVE OF A GHOUL TO TAKE JOY FROM I, THE MIGHTY DULLAHAN. I WILL MAKE SURE YOUR SCREAMS ARE STAINED INTO THE WALLS OF THESE VERY SEWERS!¡±

    ¡°Fine, take your damn bagel back!¡± I hollered, hurling the soggy sandwich onto the slimy floor as if tossing chum to a shark. Let him choke on that goodwill.

    I bolted towards a faint glow, turned a corner, and sprinted on. Behind me, footsteps halted, followed by a wet squelch of ham and cheese. The temperature plummeted as though winter itself stepped into the tunnel.

    ¡°You¡­ you didn¡¯t even EAT it,¡± came his voice, quieter but more dangerous. ¡°You¡­ YOU NEVER WANTED IT?!¡±

    Dullahan shot around the bend, clutching a crackling orb of blue-white flame in one hand, his eyes blazing sapphire.

    ¡°NOW YOU WILL DIE!¡± he shrieked, voice pitching high with murderous intent, hurling that fiery sphere at lethal speed.

    The projectile skimmed the brick wall, dissolving stone into molten slag as it barreled straight for me. If that thing hit, it was going to obliterate me in one go!

    The sewer flared with harsh light and searing heat. I dropped flat, feeling the scorching blast singe the air overhead. One glance at the half-melted wall told me it was still red-hot, so I pressed my torch against it, igniting it on the spot.

    ¡°Thanks, mate!¡± I blurted, then took off, torch in hand.

    As I spoke, the first sphere ran into a wall head on and exploded in a fireball, shaking the sewers and sending steam and stone scattering everywhere. Steam, rubble, and scalding droplets pelted my body. Reeling from the blast, I ducked around a corner as two more blazing orbs streaked past, carving smoking furrows in the stone where my skull used to be.

    As I heaved a deep breath to keep going, I felt a sudden pain shoot up my leg as I tripped forward. Looking down, I screeched like a frightened schoolgirl when I saw that the head of the dreadknight was clamped down on my ankle and glaring daggers at me. Trying to shake him off while running like a stuck piece of toilet paper, I heard him growling and cursing me as his body rounded the corner further behind, more energy orbs at the ready.

    ¡°Can you please let go of me, you scary, scary demon!¡± I begged as he bit down harder, slowing my escape to a mortifying crawl.

    Ichni emerged, flipping him off with gusto. ¡°Hey Dullard,¡± she taunted, ¡°why not take a hint from Onshi¡¯s coloring book and leave while you¡¯re ¡®a head¡¯?¡±

    ¡°HUHHHHH? MMMSESS MMMKNII?!¡±  Dullahan¡¯s head choked in surprise as the spider hawked a webbed glob and shot it into one of his hollowed out eyes.

    ¡°Let go.¡± I said, with as much menace in Command Undead as I could at Dullahan¡¯s head. It was two chomps away from making me piss my pants in sheer terror, but if the guy was undead, there was a chance, right?

    Whether it was from the surprise of Ichni or my meager fel ability, his jaw slightly unclenched as I felt a gut punch from the spell¡¯s cost. Sensing his loosened grip from the mental shock, I wrenched my leg up and shook him loose. Scoring a crit hit on the skill and a fail on the strength, I soccer kicked him down a different tunnel, breaking several of my toes in the process.

    Howling in pain, I stumbled across a watery channel and promptly slipped, landing hard on my spine. Another scorching orb tore overhead, obliterating a chunk of wall and sending it tumbling into the murky depths. I realized that I have never met the mayor or any sort of town leader, and while establishing allies is important, there was no way in hell I was getting the key to the city after this.

    ¡°Holy Four-Lights, you weren¡¯t kidding about persistence!¡± I muttered, staggering upright. Dullahan¡¯s body, headless and effectively blind, fumbled about, flailing pathetically to avoid stepping into the waterways and searching for its lost noggin. It would¡¯ve been hilarious if I didn¡¯t know that once reunited, he¡¯d be on me like a rampaging bull-ahan again.

    ¡°YOUR HIGHNESS! FEAR NOT, I SHALL SAVE YOU FROM THIS PUTRID PLACE! FOUL, FILTHY GHOUL, I¡¯LL-! JUST¡­ GIVE ME A MOMENT!¡± he hollered helplessly, his voice echoing off damp walls. The poor fool was truly devoted, in a terrifying, homicidal way.

    ¡°Adrian¡­ look!¡± Ichni said, ignoring her would-be rescuer¡¯s cry and pointing at the giant hole that the last explosion made. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor when I saw it.

    Somehow, during my frantic chase with the Dullahan, we had gotten to the south end of the sewers underneath the town. The wall, or rather the missing section of the wall, revealed an eerily familiar design of a room behind it. The freshly paved hole revealed a hidden chamber beyond¡ªmarble pillars, dusty shelves, and a massive set of double doors. A skeletal figure slumped against those doors, richly dressed in tattered finery, adorned with a gem-studded cane and enough jewelry to fund a small kingdom. Jackpot.

    ¡°You gotta be¡­!¡± I began, debating whether or not this was lady luck calling, but it was Ichni that answered instead. She tried shoving me towards it, went through me in a very awkward motion, and proceeded to point at it as though I had gone blind.

    ¡°Adrian, look!¡± she insisted, eyes gleaming. As I walked through the hole, she let out a whoop. She practically had ¡°Payday!¡± written all over that dopey grin of hers. ¡°That ghost hoe had great taste! He was rich! WE¡¯RE RICH!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be dead if we stick around like this guy! Besides,¡± I rambled as I took the cane, the entire hand that contained three rings, and a thick necklace like I was on a bandit shopping spree. ¡°You¡¯re royalty, you¡¯re practically made of money! Actually, why don¡¯t you pull a loan out from daddy¡¯s credit card for us or something?¡±

    ¡°What the hell is a ¡®credit card¡¯, you murakka! Come on, we need to beat feet and get out of here!¡± She retorted, and as I hopped back in the sewers, I spotted a manhole nearby. Discarding my torch into the murky water like an abandoned companion, I hastily clambered up to make my bid to escape.

    A couple of minutes later, the manhole we¡¯d emerged from erupted violently, the cover soaring skyward like a fired cannonball. It nailed an unfortunate bird mid-flight, killing it instantly. Moments after, the metal lid crashed back down, punching through a nearby rooftop and prompting frantic shouts inside. It was like Dullahan¡¯s boxing bell for another fresh round of hunting.

    As I peeked from the hole of a trashcan I hid in, I saw Dullahan¡¯s head leap out first, cursing anything and everything under the sun as his body trudged out behind him before the two pieces rejoined. He looked around, scanning for any sight of me, before sprinting past the trash can I was taking refuge and out of sight. I waited for a moment, where he sprinted by us a second time to my utter terror, before the sound of his loud metal boots faded off to the distance.

    ¡°So¡­ the trash can, huh?¡± Ichni murmured from my glove. I emerged, dripping in pulp and scraps, lifting the lid with a resigned sigh. ¡°Feels like a second home, I bet, hehe!¡±

    ¡°Hey, it worked, didn¡¯t it?¡± I said with pointed pride at my imperfect plan despite the rotten fruit clinging to my hair.. I took a look around and realized I was in the southeastern corner of town, whereas Quen¡¯s blacksmith shop was in the northeastern district. Getting there above ground meant crossing the main road that ran from the east gate where I was first quizzed, which quite frankly wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d ever want to experience again.

    ¡°Back to the sewers? Ugh, but I threw away my torch¡­¡± I grumbled, weighing whether to scoot across the street inside a ninja trashcan. A soft ¡°Pssst!¡± broke my chain of thought.

    ¡°Huh?¡± I looked around, and then spotted another familiar face. It was the demon hooker, smoking a cigarette, and looking at me with the utmost pity from her pupiless, off-white eyes. Her long dress gown exposed her crimson skin past her knees, and her ram horns were cocked to the side as she appraised me.

    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the freak that was trying to buy some time with me the other day, right?¡± she asked, taking a slow drag on her cigarette.

    ¡°Well, no, but we kept running into each other, that¡¯s it I swear!¡± I promised, worried she was going to scream for help.

    ¡°Riiiight. So that big, scary knight is hot on your trail, huh?¡± she teased, voice dripping with a mix of sultry mockery and faint menace. ¡°Be a shame if he caught you¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know. He¡¯s lost me for now.¡± I began, furling my brows angrily at her as I rested my hand on the pommel of my sword. ¡°Think we can keep it that way?¡±

    ¡°Oooooh, big scary guy yourself, aren¡¯t you?¡± she purred. ¡°Braaaave. I like that in a ghoul.¡± With a casual display, she snuffed her cigarette on her tongue, then flicked it away with a deft twitch of her tail.

    ¡°Here¡¯s the deal,¡± she offered sweetly. ¡°Pay me, and I¡¯ll guide you wherever. Out of town, a secret hideout¡ªyour call. I can make you vanish like a whisper.¡±

    ¡°I just need to reach the blacksmith¡¯s place up north,¡± I pleaded.

    ¡°Oh, Quen¡¯s forge?¡± she said, amused. ¡°Simple. Why not use the sewers again, big guy? Don¡¯t tell me¡ªafraid of the dark?¡± She smirked knowingly.

    I kept quiet, and her giggles said it all: she¡¯d hit a nerve. ¡°Oh my, I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she faux-apologized, not sounding sorry at all.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated,¡± I tried, but she silenced me with a fingertip to my lips.

    ¡°No worries, I¡¯ll hold your hand,¡± she said sweetly, voice dripping with mock sympathy. ¡°Whatever happens in the dark will be our little s-e-c-r-e-t, okay~? Little boys always need to hold the hand of their mother when going through scary places, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a¡ª!¡± I began hotly, but one chilly glare shut me right up.

    ¡°No, you¡¯re not, but if the little chicken shit can¡¯t be seen and pees himself in the dark, then that¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. So, how much are you paying?¡± She said, her hand outreached and palm up. She was eyeing the stick that was at my hip, though the gem was hidden behind my cloak.

    I fumbled for my coin pouch, internally cursing this twisted therapy of facing my phobia. As I did, the dead noble¡¯s necklace tumbled from my pocket¡ªa silver chain with a gem-encrusted locket. We both paused, eyes locking on the sparkling piece.

    ¡°That locket¡­¡± she mused, ¡°I, ah, had a fling with a wealthy old fellow who wore one just like it!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, found it in the Maiden¡¯s Crypt.¡± I half-lied. ¡°What do you think, will that cover the pay?¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± She blinked, eyeing the jewels with barely disguised greed. ¡°This could be worth thousands¡ªuh, I mean tens of silver. It¡¯ll more than do.¡±

    ¡°Yup! You¡¯re worth it, babe.¡± I said eagerly.

    ¡°¡®Babe?¡¯ Don¡¯t push it,¡± she snapped, snatching the necklace. ¡°I¡¯m a professional. You¡¯ve paid in style, and I appreciate it. This¡¯ll be perfect for certain high-tier engagements, much better than these cheap faux pearls.¡±

    ¡°Understood, madam. Lead on,¡± I said, gesturing politely. With Ichni hidden in the glove, we descended once more into the dank sewers¡ªfingers crossed this was a final visit.

    For a few minutes, she babbled about the late noble¡¯s wild tastes, while I tried to block out the mental images. To my relief, she didn¡¯t force any hand-holding. Instead, she conjured a tiny flame at her fingertip, guiding us through the darkness with a smug confidence.

    I considered asking if her flame trick was a fire elemental skill or just standard succubus flair, but decided not to risk her ire. I needed that flame more than an answer.

    She navigated the sewer like a local, striding gracefully past sludge and debris. When a stray rat drew too close, a flick of her wrist incinerated it instantly, causing me to flinch at the sudden conflict ending. She was not someone to be messing with, and certainly in no need of my cardiac lessons I was hoping to charge her.

    Nearing a faint shaft of light, she flicked her tail playfully against my leg, then gestured with it upward.

    ¡°There you go. This will take you right behind her shop.¡± She said confidently. ¡°I¡¯d take a listen for those big mean boots before you go, though.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, uh¡­?¡± I asked, pausing for a name.

    ¡°Dahlia,¡± she replied with a wink. ¡°Information broker by day, something else by night. I¡¯m a tad showy, yes, but perhaps you¡¯ve met my sister at the Bronze Rooster?¡±

    ¡°Your sister¡­?¡± I racked my brain for a connection, drawing a blank.

    A memory clicked¡ªnotes, a quiet woman collecting intel. I gasped.

    ¡°Yup, that¡¯s her,¡± Dahlia confirmed brightly. ¡°She prefers subtlety. Believes she can milk the info from that pathetic bard for some grand prize, though she loathes him too much to say hello. Adorable, isn¡¯t it?¡± She giggled at the thought of her angst-ridden sibling.

    ¡°Thank you, Dahlia,¡± I said, offering a respectful nod. ¡°If we cross paths again, I hope I¡¯m less¡­ hunted and haunted.¡±

    She grinned, tongue playfully poking between her lips. ¡°No hard feelings. If someday you ¡®improve the packaging¡¯,¡± she waved a hand vaguely at my face, ¡°maybe we can discuss more pleasurable ventures. Until then, if you ever need info or a quiet exit, remember my name. We move on once we¡¯ve drained a town¡¯s secrets, you see.¡±

    ¡°Dry as in information, right,¡± I echoed, pretending full comprehension. Dahlia eyed me skeptically, then shrugged and sauntered away into the darkness.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t dilly-dally for too long, big scary man.¡± her voice teased from afar. A shiver crawled up my leg at her parting words and the sway of her hips. I felt almost violated by that lingering gaze, though I couldn¡¯t deny she had style.

    ¡°Hey, get your merdu together!¡± Ichni hissed, cutting through my daze. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can convince Quen we hit the jackpot!¡± I shook myself out of my questionable stupor, clapping both sets of cheeks. Making my way up, I pushed the cover up and made my way into Quen¡¯s back door entrance.

 Chapter 18: Thatéˆ¥æªš What Friends Are For

    ¡°Ya realize if that Dullahan bastard spots ya here, we¡¯re all bleedin¡¯ cooked, don¡¯tcha?¡± barked the familiar orc blacksmith as she slammed her shutters and bolted her doors. ¡°Soldiers¡¯ve been patrollin¡¯ all higgledy-piggledy since some sod gave Dullahan the slip. Wonder who that might be, hmm?¡± she finished with a low, menacing growl, still fussing over every latch and lock.

    I¡¯d been perched on her workbench for a few minutes, struggling to catch my breath. My whole body throbbed after being pursued not once, but twice by murderous monsters.

    Sorry, Ichni, I¡¯ll try to be progressive¨C one was a monster, the other was one very angry j¡¯ana¨C but that doesn¡¯t change the fact that both had wanted me super fucking dead. Between the demon frog and the armory-on-legs hit man, I almost found myself longing for a second round with the frogfiend¡ªat least that thing didn¡¯t come with a private army at its beck and call. Hell, I was the one that had the numbers, thanks to Command Undead!

    Stealing the time to appreciate life¡¯s fleeting embraces, I took stock of the loot before me. On the bench before me lay the cane and that grisly skeletal hand adorned with three rings. Now that I finally had a moment, I carefully slid each ring free and lined them up. One might¡¯ve been a wedding band, and that thought gave me a queasy pang of guilt¡ªgrave-robbing wasn¡¯t exactly heroic. I propped my chin on my elbow, wrestling with my uneasy conscience.

    The cane appeared to be fashioned from polished red wood, cherry-like in hue and about four feet in length. It could¡¯ve passed for either a noble¡¯s swaggering prop or a mage¡¯s staff. Its base ended in a silver tip, while the top bore a steel claw clutching a milky white gem. By torchlight, I swore I saw wispy fog swirling within the jewel, like a stormcloud imprisoned in crystal.

    The first ring was a simple steel band, its pattern twisted like coiled wire. The second, this one containing a fat diamond and several smaller ones, was presumably proof of his marriage and lecherous adultery with that psychotic maid. The third was curious: a plain obsidian band with no adornments whatsoever, yet chillingly cool to the touch. Its simplicity was almost unsettling.

    ¡°Now I¡¯ve got not one but two fugitives skulkin¡¯ in me shop!¡± Quen ranted, stuffing random tools and scraps into a heavy sack. ¡°One¡¯s a traitor, says the posters, and the other¡¯s a traitor who snatched up the first traitor. What kinda rotten luck is this? What in the blazing pits did I get meself into?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Quen¡ª¡± I began, only to be cut off by a fierce shushing gesture. She wasn¡¯t angry at us specifically, I could tell, but she needed to vent like a boiling kettle about to whistle.

    Ichni, meanwhile, toyed with a polished lump of ore Quen had smelted earlier. She phased her hand just enough to nudge it rolling across the bench, then waved her other hand to halt it. The racket and tension barely fazed her; it was as if scenes like this were everyday background noise to the princess-turned-ghost, and she busied herself with simple amusements.

    ¡°Remind me¡ªwhy d¡¯ya wanna trek off to the Fire Shrine again? Ya wanted there before I even offered ta sword.¡± Quen asked, taking a deep breath as if logic might calm her nerves.

    ¡°I¡¯m after the Element housed there, and so I can shatter the chains binding that light spirit,¡± I answered, repeating my grand quest¡¯s outline.

    ¡°Are you mad?¡±  She hissed, failing to calm down even a little.

    ¡°I¡¯m fucking pissed, yeah.¡± I snapped, still seething after my run-in with Dullahan.

    ¡°Hi ¡®mad,¡¯ I¡¯m ¡®dad¡¯¡ªah, damn, that joke doesn¡¯t translate,¡± Ichni attempted, her pun falling flatter than the ore ball that just rolled off the table with a heavy thunk.

    ¡°Those chains¡¯ve kept Demon King Malphas locked down for over a century,¡± Quen explained, bafflement edging out her anger. ¡°Not a single soul¡¯s come close to breakin¡¯ them. So why waltz in and set ¡¯im free?¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ªare we discussing the same ¡®chains¡¯?¡± I asked, confused. ¡°The Four-Lights mentioned each spirit was bound by a powerful chain only I can break. Ichni and now you talk about chains restraining the king. Are these the same set of chains or what?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure they¡¯re the same chains, Addy,¡± Ichni confirmed. ¡°Ever look up and see those shining chains of light stretching from each shrine to Daemongard, the royal castle?¡±

    ¡°Daemongard? First I¡¯ve heard the name¡­ but wait¡­¡± I paused, recalling a faint line of light glimpsed near the water tower.

    I remembered spotting a faint line of luminescence overhead, like cosmic chalk drawn across the heavens. Was that one of the very chains we were meant to break?

    ¡°So you meant it¡ªfreeing the spirits truly frees the Demon King?¡± I asked, the realization settling in my gut like a lead weight.

    ¡°Well, yeah, pakkha,¡± Ichni admitted, sounding a bit sheepish. ¡°Why else would I bother helping you? Besides the obvious, I mean.¡±

    ¡°I knew you mentioned it,¡± I said, ¡°but I didn¡¯t realize it was so literal. Freeing the spirits means unleashing the Demon King? That¡¯s a bigger risk than I bargained for.¡±

    ¡°Well, if it¡¯s any consolation,¡± Ichni added. ¡°Those chains also give him immense durability, like full-on invincibility level power. It¡¯s kind of like he¡¯s trapped in limbo, where he can¡¯t die but he also can¡¯t leave his spot. If you wanted to take my dad on, they were gonna have to go either way.¡±

    I rubbed my face, feeling the weight of this revelation. This quest could drag on for months or years, and my main aim had been to restore my humanity and do some good deeds along the way. If helping the spirits freed a monstrous ruler, I¡¯d be flipping heroism on its head. Would my cosmic ¡°Guidance Guy¡± reward me for accidentally unleashing the ultimate evil? Probably not.

    ¡°Before I took up the hammer decades ago,¡± Quen cut into my brooding to get back on subject, ¡°I worked in the Makka-Makka Mines where the Fire Shrine¡¯s located. That place is under Lieutenant Bernie One-Hander¡¯s thumb, remember? I warned ya about that dolt earlier.¡±

    ¡°Right, the minotaur foreman you both consider a ruthless moron,¡± I said nervously. He was supposed to have stalled Dullahan, but that obviously didn¡¯t pan out.

    ¡°He may be thick as a plank, but he¡¯s tough as old boots,¡± Quen continued. ¡°He¡¯s screwed up countless times, yet still ranks among the Demon King¡¯s trusted minions. When I first met ya both, I thought you were bonkers¡ªand I still do. I¡¯ve seen people brave enough to challenge his majesty, and champions that tried to change the system from within. But never have I seen a loon like you, so hell-bent on bein¡¯ a hero.¡±

    ¡°Well, it was sort of my thing before, y¡¯know.¡± I said with a goofy smile. ¡°I fell from the ranks quite a bit, so I¡¯m not actually ¡®hero material¡¯ just yet, but I¡¯ve started from scratch before. I know the work it takes, and I won¡¯t give up until I¡¯m dust or victorious.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s drivin¡¯ me mad!¡± Quen hollered, voice crackling with energy. ¡°Ya carry that blasted confidence as if ya could pull off the impossible, even though ya look like ya should be housed in a mausoleum, no offense!¡±

    ¡°None taken,¡± I said, shrugging. ¡°Been called worse.¡±

    ¡°Mostly by me!¡± Ichni teased, causing me to arch an eyebrow.

    ¡°Even as a shrimpy husk, ya got fire,¡± Quen admitted, grinning broadly. She rested a hammer across the back of her shoulders. ¡°It¡¯s infectious, lad, makes me feel like I¡¯m watchin¡¯ a legend-in-the-making!¡±

    ¡°An unlikely hero risen from the grave, striving against all odds for the smiles of his¡ª¡± I began, only for Ichni and Quen to pull identical grimaces.

    ¡°Too cheesy,¡± Ichni muttered, and Quen nodded vigorously.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± Quen continued, nodding at the cane and rings, ¡°dunno what half that rubbish does, but it¡¯s from the so-called ¡®dungeon¡¯ I promised to reward, innit?¡±

    ¡°It is!¡± I said, excitement creeping back into my voice.

    Suddenly, a crackling sound erupted from outside the shop, as though a booming voice radiated from the sky like a displeased god.

    ¡°Attention, attention,¡± came a deep, snarling growl. Dullahan.

    ¡°As many of you are well aware, I, Lieutenant Dullahan, the loyal left hand of his majesty, has been on a quest for justice. Justice against those that threaten the crown.¡± He went on, earning a groan from the princess.

    ¡°Ugh, he¡¯s gonna monologue, isn¡¯t he?¡± She grumbled.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure some of you may be wondering why I call to the entire town of Aratan Villa, and that is simply because there is a TRAITOR lurking in your midst. One who has committed the heinous act of rebelling against the crown, kidnapping the royal princess, and CULINARY DESECRATION.¡± The looming voice went on.

    ¡°Great, now the bagel is a crime to my list? What punishment is that, death?¡± I hurled at no one in particular.

    ¡°The punishment for all three is DEATH. The person in question, a particularly ugly ghoul in rusted armor, is hiding in your town, kind citizens. Undead knight, I know you can hear me.¡±  He paused for dramatic effect. ¡°You have one hour to meet me outside the western gate to face your punishment with honor and dignity intact. If you don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯ll raze this town to the very ground it sits on.¡±

    The threat was with clear intent by the cold drawl of his voice as he uttered it, but it was still shocking how willing he was going in order to find me. It sent me shivers as though I had felt his baleful gaze.

    ¡°I do offer forgiveness, knight. You hold a very important figure dear to my heart. If you come with knees bent and her highness offered, I may offer¡­ penance. The choice is yours.¡±  The booming voice crackled out of existence, and I could hear frantic shouting and screaming in the distance. He just sentenced the entire town to die unless I appeared in front of this foul monster of a dreadlord.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like this guy,¡± I finally admitted through clenched teeth.

    ¡°Finally caught on, have we?¡± Ichni quipped, voice dripping with mockery, her expression as rigid as carved stone.

    ¡°A knight¡¯s duty is to his people, yet this so-called lieutenant would slaughter everyone over a petty grudge?¡± I demanded. ¡°Where¡¯s the honor in that? What dignity is left if he murders innocent townsfolk just to bait me out?¡±

    ¡°Could be he¡¯s bluffin¡¯,¡± Quen grunted, uncertain. ¡°But what if he ain¡¯t? What if yer life¡¯s worth tradin¡¯ to spare all these folks to Dullahan?¡±

    ¡°We won¡¯t test that theory,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Quen, we had a deal. Arm me properly, and I¡¯ll face him head-on.¡±

    ¡°Oh, lad, you¡¯ll be gettin¡¯ more than my prized blade,¡± Quen said with a mighty grin. ¡°I got somethin¡¯ else here too you might fancy. Been working on it since ya left.¡±

    She walked over to a mannequin draped in a sheet, and tore the cloth off. Ichni gasped audibly, while my own mouth hung loose in awe.

    Oh, heavens yes.

    * * *

    Stepping out of Quen¡¯s forge, I found the streets awash in chaos. Villagers ran and screamed, guards wrestled to contain the crowd, children wailed, and someone had inexplicably ignited a small fire. A toppled torch post lay in the dirt. Barely ten minutes had passed since Dullahan¡¯s ultimatum, and pandemonium was already in full swing.

    I now stood there with a new set of chainmail armor, refitted by Quen to protect me. It was much lighter than my old set, rust and all, and she even took the liberty of customizing it, creating small discolored indentions where the holes on my old set used to be.

    ¡°It stood out so much I figured it could be yer callin¡¯ card!¡± she¡¯d joked earlier, as I inspected the odd patches. Her tone suggested pride, as if those blemishes now defined my personal brand.

    She also bequeathed to me the Aether Blade, the magical shortsword that could unlock new forms once I acquired an Element. While not entirely impressive in its normal form, its blue steel glowed with a mystical power before I sheathed it and equipped it to the back of my belt.

    Wrapped in a dark brown cloak, I surveyed the mayhem. Two familiar guards hurried over, and I instinctively reached for my blade. They raised their hands, signaling peace, and I let my grip relax.

    ¡°Oi, mate, you catch wind of that whoppin'' bit of news, then?¡± barked the gray wolf-man guard, clearly on edge.

    ¡°We were worried about you when he called you out,¡± added the Shiba-man guard, his voice still holding that oddly smooth timbre.

    ¡°Yeah, your lieutenant¡¯s gunning for me,¡± I said grimly. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re here on orders to¡­?¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°Cor blimey! He might be the lieutenant, but it''s us lot wot¡¯s ''ere to keep the town safe!¡± the gray wolf said, waving his arms. ¡°We know full well you ain¡¯t done nothin¡¯ dodgy!"

    ¡°He had us put wanted posters of you up, but we took them down already,¡± Shiba-man added quietly. ¡°We know you¡¯ve helped the town since you arrived.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Oh geez, guys¡­¡± I mumbled, at a loss for words.

    ¡°It¡¯s all right, mate! I reckon you get it, but we need you to go and have a chinwag with ¡®im! If you don¡¯t, it¡¯ll be a proper mess for the whole lot of us!" The gray wolf went on, punching me in the shoulder. ¡°If you tackle ¡®im like you tackled me bleedin¡¯ quiz, it¡¯ll be a doddle! I¡¯ve got faith in ya, mate!¡±

    I caught maybe a third of his slang, but his kind eyes spoke volumes. I nodded, grateful for their faith.

    ¡°Stay safe, or we¡¯ll fret over ya,¡± said the Shiba-man, patting my shoulder. ¡°Good luck, and remember¡ªwe¡¯re on your side.¡±

    ¡°Give ¡®im a right proper wallop, mate! That¡¯ll knock some sense into ¡®im!¡± Gray wolf-man added, wagging his tail frantically.

    I turned toward the main thoroughfare stretching to the western gate¡ªmy final destination. With a nervous swallow, I mustered what courage I had and set off toward near-certain doom.

    ¡°Are you scared, Adrian?¡± Ichni whispered from her glove.

    ¡°I am,¡± I confessed, my honesty stark. ¡°But I¡¯m more scared of what will happen if we don¡¯t face him and settle this. I can¡¯t lose¡ªI won¡¯t lose.¡±

    It was triggering painful memories as I began my pace. It felt as though I was walking through time, when I was leading my Holy Knights through the gate to face their own deaths. This time, however, it was purely my own neck on the line, with Ichni¡¯s fate resting in our efforts. Even the prayer that I held in my lips was the same. Protect us¡­ protect the princess. I felt my brows furl as I realized that the days of cowardice would have to take a backseat. Spineless or no, I wasn¡¯t charging blindly this time. I knew the exact stakes.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I¡¯m a little scared too.¡± She said with a nervous pace to her voice. ¡°There¡¯s no telling what he might do. Don¡¯t worry though, Addy. I¡¯ll be right here with you.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re stuck with me in a moldy glove?¡± I teased weakly.

    ¡°Well, that too, but that¡¯s what friends do.¡± She replied, and I could almost feel her smirk.

    ¡°Since when were we friends? At most, I figured we were professional adventuring pals.¡± I asked.

    She scoffed. ¡°Oh please, you¡¯ve listened to me more than the entire castle combined. Hell knows I¡¯ve found a soft spot to tolerate your stupid grin now and then.¡±

    ¡°Guess we¡¯re even, then,¡± I said lightly. As I neared the gate, townsfolk noticed me¡ªsome with fear, others in stunned admiration at my choice to meet Dullahan. I blocked them out, focusing on the banter with Ichni.

    ¡°I once told myself I¡¯d pawn you off if you annoyed me too much, but I doubt I could shake you that easily now,¡± I admitted. ¡°We¡¯re an odd pair, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    ¡°What¨C get rid of me, or the glove?¡± she teased. ¡°You¡¯re lucky you¡¯re the first one to have found me. An esteemed princess like myself usually gets to be picky on her appointed knights!¡±

    ¡°Well, pardon me, Your Highness!¡± I shot back. ¡°Need I remind you it was me who rescued you from becoming eternal forest d¨¦cor and turned you into a mobile menace? You were able to go from crime scene to crime machine thanks to me!¡±

    ¡°Oh please, you act like I didn¡¯t break any laws when I was alive. Remember me mentioning my wild nights with Hilda?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Right, you were drinking pals, or something along those lines?¡± I inquired, intrigued. A crowd was gathering around and behind us at this point, but no one actually approached me as I reached the middle of town.

    ¡°Devils, I wish I could drink now!¡± she lamented. ¡°But yeah, back when I had a pulse, I¡¯d sneak out of the castle whenever possible.¡± She appeared beside me, startling nearby onlookers. They might¡¯ve expected a somber march to doom; we looked more like old friends gossiping on a stroll.

    ¡°Until¡­ you got caught doing something and you got banned from alcohol.¡± I concluded.

    She snorted at this. ¡°Since when did a royal decree of prohibition ever stop someone?¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­¡± I mused, imagining the mischief a tipsy princess could stir up. ¡°So what exactly got you in deep trouble?¡±

    ¡°Well!¡± Ichni declared, as though she was already loading the story like a bullet into a gun. ¡°It started with these enormous statues my father had built at the castle gates¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± I prodded on.

    ¡°Well, my web is verrrry flexible. Almost elastic. So if I connect two objects together¡­¡± She motioned me to finish.

    ¡°You got yourself a slingshot?¡± I suggested.

    ¡°Bingo! But let me do the storytelling. You¡¯ve got a knack for grunting, let¡¯s stick to that for the moment.¡± She said in a sarcastic tone.

    I looked at her in defiance, but kept silent after a dismissive grunt.

    ¡°Subba,¡± she continued dramatically. ¡°So me, Hilda and the girls make this GIANT slingshot, and we¡¯re pulling it back further and further. Once I let go of the ground¨C WHOOSH!¡± She swept her arms in a grand arc, miming something akin to a boulder soaring skyward.

    ¡°Sounds like¡ª¡± I attempted to interject, but she pressed a finger to her lips.

    ¡°Shh! Tuhn bhavaha!¡± she hissed irritably, silencing me again.

    I sighed, grunted in submission, and sat at a bench to let her continue. The growing crowd of people kept their distance as they, too, began to listen to this wild tale.

    ¡°Anyhow, the harpies are flying, I¡¯m flying, I¡¯m pretty sure a naga guard gave it a shot!¡± She went on. ¡°But I made one teensy teeny-tiny error.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know this part!¡± piped up a voice. I glanced around to see Hilda, the harpy mail-carrier, apparently rested and curious, joining the gathering throng. She motioned to Ichni to continue while giving a smug grin, as though the ending in her mind left her in delight.

    ¡°My web? Super strong, and when I¡¯m pulling it, it¡¯s like a winch, even if I got sticks for arms. Eventually, one of the statues gives way.¡± She said, with a devilish smirk. She seemed to be enjoying the attention. It felt like even the guards were walking in for the chance to listen to the tale now.

    ¡°Oh no!¡± Someone cried out at the story. I grunted in surprise to add to this.

    ¡°Ohhhhh yes! This is a huge statue, mind you. Took three years to build one, a hundred feet tall. The Cryotect herself made the initial plans.¡± She said with amazing detail to the building drama. She was like a seasoned storyteller building tension at this point.

    ¡°Who¡¯s the Cryotect?¡± I asked, but I earned myself even more shushes, this time from the crowd. Guess it was storytime, not question time.

    ¡°Natti, later! So, it snapped at the legs and flung through the gate, past me, and halfway to the castle itself. When father found out, he was FURIOUS.¡± She said, proud of her wild misdeed. She was practically basking in the crowd¡¯s shock, murmurs and gasps rolling in waves.

    ¡°How furious was he?¡± Someone chimed in, trying to stroke the story.

    ¡°He was livid. His voice was so angry that I bet you even the villagers here could hear it! ¡®Ichni, we decorated the castle with the finest works of art, and you just turned it into a playground as a joke!¡¯ he roared.¡± She said, trying to imitate her apparently bass-toned father.

    ¡°And what did you say?¡± Someone asked from a different part of the crowd. Apparently they could ask questions, but the guy on death row could only pretend he was a caveman!

    ¡°I was like, ¡®Well, it was the statue of Captain Onshi, and he¡¯s already a joke! At least he was useful for a laugh!¡¯¡± She finished, chuckling to herself. The crowd broke into a mixture of fruitful and anxious laughter in return.

    ¡°You might be kidding around, but that statue is STILL on the ground. Never could fix it, and thus, the royal decree was born. ¡®Hear ye, hear ye! Prithee a dark day for anyone that gives the princess fine booze!¡¯¡± She said, amping up the ending of the story. A round of applause came from the mob, and even a rose was thrown in by my feet. Climmard, who was now also a part of the crowd, finished the story with a great finale of his guitar.

    ¡°That was quite the story!¡± I finally declared, as I rose back to my feet. She smiled from ear to ear, as though the story got her spirits back, forgive the pun.

    ¡°Love to tell that story. If I ever get my webshot powers back, I¡¯ll show you what it¡¯s like!¡± She said excitedly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should worry or not!¡± I said with my own nervous smile.

    ¡°Oh santha, I won¡¯t be drinking! Ghost body! No alcohol allowed, see?¡± She motioned to herself, as though I had forgotten the state she was in.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m worried about!¡± I huffed, exasperated.

    With the afterthought of Ichni¡¯s story fading from memory, I looked at the people around us, who were beginning to return their gaze to me with both anxiety and expectancy. I knew they were worried about themselves, but I couldn¡¯t help but worry about them too.

    ¡°Listen, everyone,¡± I began softly, ¡°I know what Dullahan threatened.¡±

    ¡°The part where we are all gonna die?!¡± One interjected.

    ¡°The part where you¡¯re in danger if I don¡¯t go and face him.¡± I corrected the stranger.

    ¡°You needn¡¯t worry,¡± I continued wistfully, my voice soft. ¡°I¡¯ve done my part for this place. I¡¯ve watched some of you grow.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only been a week,¡± Ichni muttered under her breath, but I pressed on, ignoring her remark.

    ¡°In dark times like these, we can¡¯t give weight to the fears in our hearts.¡± I went on. ¡°Give value to those who love you, and cherish your time with them. Use that to make the best of times. A day like this will come and go, but those memories? Those are forever.¡±

    A quiet murmur rippled through the crowd, some nodding in hesitant agreement to my holy scripture platitudes.

    ¡°When I¡¯m gone, it may feel like nothing changed,¡± I continued. ¡°But I beg you¡ªremember. Something did happen.¡±

    ¡°This crowd alone is a rarity,¡± I added with a wry smile. ¡°Even if it was to listen to Ichni¡¯s story about making a drunken fool of herself.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Ichni snapped, drawing a few chuckles.

    ¡°You¡¯re all in this together. Whether it¡¯s as a town or as a people, demon or otherwise; strive to be the best you can be. As a community.¡± I finished, prompting scattered cheers.

    ¡°Now, I¡¯m off to face my imminent defeat!¡± I shouted, somehow joyously despite the connotations. ¡°Climmard, give me a song to march to battle to!¡±

    Climmard, as if destined for this role, plucked his strings, launching into a whimsical ballad. The crowd followed along, transforming my grim pilgrimage into a bizarre parade. As I headed toward the gate, his jaunty melody underscored every step toward fate.

    Oh, there goes the ghoul, once in his armor of rust,

    With a wobble, a rattle, and a trail of dust.

    From Aratan Villa, so cozy and grand,

    He¡¯s off to make his final stand.

    To where, you ask, does he march for death?

    To what poor fate will he give his last breath?

    Beyond the gates yonder, of the town he grew fonder,

    His battle with Dullahan is the only tale that¡¯s left!

    O¡¯, brave undead knight!

    Give him your greatest fight!

    Give him hell on our behalf!

    Though there is no room, for your certain doom,

    We surely had shared a laugh!

    By now, half the town had gathered¡ªwhat started as frightened villagers transformed into something like my personal pep rally. Randy the barkeep strolled up and handed me a frothy beer, which I downed so fast the crowd whooped like I¡¯d just set a drinking record. Someone draped a fragrant lei of flowers over my shoulders, as if I were some undead champion heading to a luau in hell. Upon reaching Madam Bagel¡¯s place, she presented a pristine Headless Ham & Cheese Bagel Sandwich, practically anointing me with culinary grace before my final showdown. I devoured it in three massive bites, silently lamenting that it didn¡¯t come with a ¡°+10 to not-dying¡± buff attached.

    As I approached the opened palisade, I saw the demon in question far off in the distance. Though he was just a tiny dot from my point of view, I could still tell that he stood menacing on a hill near the dirt road, glaring at me. Even from afar, he radiated bad news. But hey, I still had about thirty minutes until my scheduled ¡°execution extravaganza,¡± so no need to hurry, right? I focused on summoning my best ¡°hero face,¡± which mostly meant furrowing my brow and trying not to look like I was about to wet myself.

    Ichni, wanting her part in the speeches for the final battle, began to rev up her words of encouragement as I walked through the gate. She cleared her throat dramatically:

    ¡°Hear me, oh kingdom! It is I, your beloved Princess Ichni vi Daemon! On this glorious occasion, I¡ª¡±

    But before she could finish her grand intro, the crowd started peeling away like they¡¯d just remembered they left the stove on. ¡°Heyyyyy~! Waaaait~!¡± she howled, voice cracking. ¡°Don¡¯t leave yet! I didn¡¯t get to my inspirational quote section!¡±

    I spun around to find my once-adoring audience fleeing like I¡¯d announced free tax audits. Doors slammed, shutters rattled, and the iron gate dropped behind me as if the town decided ¡°Nope, we¡¯re done here.¡± The guards themselves vanished faster than a mouse at a cat convention.

    From somewhere in the distance, a lone voice called, ¡°Good luck, sending you thoughts and prayers!¡±

    ¡°You bhayan traitors! You were just trying to kick us out!¡± Ichni screeched indignantly as she rattled the gates pointlessly, her arms sinking through them. ¡°We¡¯re out here, busting our butts, and you¡¯re all just gonna run away?! You can¡¯t just leave us ek¨¡ to die! What kind of good-for-nothing g¨¡ma sends out their ¡®hero¡¯ and then just pretends it''s a bank holiday! Come on, j¡¯ana~!¡±

    ¡°I know that word, it means ¡®people¡¯!¡± I chimed in, proud to decipher her demon-speak mid-tantrum. Ichni kept up her furious rant for another minute, then spat a sticky wad of web at the ground, huffing dramatically. With cheeks puffed like a grumpy squirrel, she finally turned back toward me.

    ¡°Hmph! Who needs ¡¯em?¡± Ichni declared, arms crossed. ¡°Let¡¯s just skirt around Dullahan and let this town burn. They deserve it!¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah, sure. And I¡¯m Dullahan¡¯s cousin. You don¡¯t mean that,¡± I said calmly, calling her bluff.

    ¡°Ugh, fine! I wish I meant it, but whatever!¡± Ichni shrilled, the words climbing several octaves as her temper hissed. ¡°Let¡¯s find out what this gothic edgelord jackass drama-queen wants while I¡¯m still simmering. It¡¯s his fault we¡¯re neck-deep in demon dung!¡±

    ¡°By all means, please direct all that venom at him,¡± I urged, as we trudged forward. Our final showdown with Dullahan loomed large. Nothing says ¡®boss battle¡¯ like a cursed knight, a ghostly princess with a foul mouth, and me¡ªan undead hero who¡¯d just had a beer and a bagel as my last rites.

 Chapter 19: Conflicting Resolutions

    ¡°So, you finally came to face me,¡± the deep, booming voice sneered from behind the detached helmet as we approached Dullahan. ¡°I¡¯ve seen braver fools run home to mommy at such a command. I must commend you for your, shall we say, arrogant punctuality.¡±

    As I stepped closer, triggering his dramatic speech, I noted the tree he stood beneath: a fully grown fig tree, its trunk twisted and gnarled, somehow still defying its ancient years. Plump purple figs dangled temptingly. Dullahan nonchalantly lifted the front of his helm, plucked a fig, and began munching on it while glaring at me as if I were yesterday¡¯s compost. With his head cradled in one arm, he looked like a grouchy ventriloquist feeding his cranky dummy some fruit.

    His armor¡ªregal in a gothic-horror kind of way¡ªseemed to cast a shadow that bullied the tree¡¯s own shade into submission, as if his vile aura drained the daylight dry. His cape, a dull gray, fluttered like a disgraced banner torn from its post, frayed at every edge. He bore no visible sword or weapon, but those needle-point gauntlets and the spooky magic show he performed earlier made it painfully obvious he wasn¡¯t someone I could beat by asking nicely.

    ¡°Well, well, well. Cat got your tongue?¡± he asked between bites, juice likely running down his chin, though I dared not mention it. ¡°You were quite vulgar last time, dear traveling knight. But it¡¯s clear you¡¯re no errant champion in my service¡ªthat much I knew the instant we crossed paths.¡±

    ¡°Be careful. He¡¯s toying with you.¡± Ichni whispered, low and tense.

    ¡°So it appears the lotus has risen from the mud!¡± he proclaimed bizarrely, then burst into hearty laughter. I had no clue what that meant¡ªapparently, Dullahan liked mixing metaphors with his murder threats.

    ¡°I¡¯m just looking to pass by, stranger. Let¡¯s both move along,¡± I said, half-hoping he¡¯d say, ¡®Oh sure, carry on!¡¯ After all, he¡¯d already succeeded at terrifying me halfway to death. By my body¡¯s standards, that would technically count as a full kill, right?

    ¡°Stranger, you say? Oh ho,¡± he chuckled, ¡°are we just stray breezes brushing past each other on the way to grander storms?¡± He let that poetic nonsense linger, then fixed me with a grim stare. ¡°Nonsense. Fate orchestrated this encounter. I believe¡ªyes, I believe you¡¯re exactly the one I¡¯ve been seeking all along.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it,¡± I lied baldly. ¡°I¡¯m just some random ghoul in old armor, running errands I never asked for.¡± Sweat beaded on my forehead as he scrutinized me, his partially revealed face etched in ancient gray flesh and a filthy off-white beard. His fiery sky-blue eyes glowed in those hollow sockets, practically singeing my nerves one by one.

    He raised an arm as if pondering the meaning of life. ¡°Humor me, then. The trusted captain insists I verify the fate of our dear princess. Perhaps you¡¯ve heard of her?¡±

    ¡°...¡± We both knew the answer, so I didn¡¯t give it.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. She¡¯s here,¡± He confided, his lips curving slightly upwards into a faint, unsettling smirk. ¡°I can sense her presence clinging to you like royal perfume.¡±

    Ichni sprang forth from my arm, her temper still roiling after the town¡¯s supposed betrayal. She flashed tiny fanged teeth at Dullahan, looking like a furious, miniature banshee ready to chew him out¡ªliterally or figuratively.

    Even if her bite lacked venom, her words sure didn¡¯t. ¡°You double-crossing fiend! You knew about my father¡¯s and Onshi¡¯s plan?!¡± she hissed.

    Dullahan didn¡¯t answer immediately as he looked at her. It was a look of¡­ pity? Was he capable of pitying the princess¡¯s circumstances? Whatever it was, it was enough to send a spark into Ichni¡¯s powder kegs, as she promptly blew up.

    ¡°You preach about order and inevitability,¡± Ichni snarled, ¡°but it¡¯s scum like you who keep this cruel machine running! Dada ayu, Dullahan! These j¡¯ana suffer daily, and you terrorize them for a cheap princess-hunting thrill? Is that your noble ¡®fixing¡¯ of the world? No, no no no. I¡¯m done swallowing your bullshit! There¡¯s the concept of the lawful evil we maintain, and then there¡¯s you- you¡¯re no knight. You can¡¯t even be a dreadknight. You¡¯re just some mutt that takes orders and does the king¡¯s wet work. You make me sick.¡±

    Her words sank in like poisoned daggers, yet Dullahan remained statue-still, not betraying any hurt. He stood there, timeless and silent, as her venomous accusations rippled through the tense air.

    ¡°You comforted me when I wept, Dullahan,¡± Ichni continued, her anger ebbing into raw sorrow. ¡°When my mother died, I cursed everything. You told me I must stand strong, a pillar holding this damned world from sinking further. How can I hold back my tears when you, of all people, are the one hunting me now?¡±

    ¡°Princess¡­¡± I started softly, but Dullahan sliced through the tension with his cold, resonant voice.

    ¡°Your highness. I may have overheard the conversation between King Malphas and¡­ Captain Onshi. I first came here to try to stop him.¡±  He said with gritted teeth, as though his clenched jaw was all that was holding back his own rage. ¡°I was too slow to stop them from doing this terrible deed. I cannot describe the anguish I felt when I found out you¡¯ve succumbed to this¡­ less desirable state.¡±

    His words felt genuine, for what it was worth from my view. For an evil showboat, he sure sounded torn up about failing to save her.

    ¡°I was¡ªand remain¡ªwilling to betray His Majesty to protect my only friend,¡± he finished, dropping a bombshell that made me wonder if I¡¯d slipped into some unholy soap opera.

    ¡°You? You?¡± Ichni blurted, voice high with disbelief. ¡°The most faithful lieutenant of them all, willing to throw everything away just for me? Have you lost your marbles, Dully?! How am I supposed to believe that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll prove it with my own hands, Princess. I¡¯ll take you straight to King Malphas, and together we¡¯ll force him to answer your questions,¡± he promised, voice laced with grim assurance. ¡°I¡¯ll make him lay out every filthy secret.¡±

    Ichni paused for a moment, stunned. It¡¯s what she wanted in the first place, and although her objectives- particularly unghosting herself- had taken higher priority, having the Dullahan as her ally would prove to be one of her greatest assets.

    I wasn¡¯t buying it though as I took a step forward.

    ¡°Not a chance, Dullahan,¡± I said firmly. ¡°A loyal knight of your twisted caliber doesn¡¯t just toss aside ¡®honor¡¯¡ªwhatever that means to you¡ªfor a so-called traitor. I know what I can do that will bring her back to life. Once I¡¯m brought back to my former glory, I¡¯ll have the means to both restore her to fighting form, and be able to face the Demon King.¡±

    ¡°Adrian¡­¡± Ichni murmured, suddenly with shaky confidence as she looked at me.

    ¡°Hey, we¡¯re in this together,¡± I said, offering a reassuring grin. ¡°Oddball weirdos in life and death, remember?¡± I added, trying to wedge her from her doubts. She looked at me with wide, slightly puffy eyes, shook herself, and nodded.

    ¡°Y-yeah. Honta!¡± She said with her arms pumping together. ¡°We¡¯re undead heroes, now. We fight together!¡±

    ¡°Heroes, huh¡­?¡± Dullahan said, his expression turning to bitter anger. ¡°And who might you be, fair swordsman? I see a blade,¡± He cocked his head in his arms to spot the sheathe on the back of my belt. ¡°But it is one that cannot yield to your¡­ expertise.¡±

    ¡°I am Adrian Legend, faithful paladin of the Four-Lights of Nevermore.¡± I said with as much bravado as my voice could muster, still shaken by the haunted aura Dullahan exuded.

    ¡°ADRIAN!¡± Ichni shrieked, terrified. ¡°Dullahan can kill anyone with cursed magic if he knows their full name!¡±

    ¡°WHAT?!¡± I shouted, eyes bulging. ¡°Why not mention that crucial detail before I practically handed him my adventurer¡¯s card?!¡±

    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t realize you¡¯d prance around like a clueless murakka, rattling off your full name and rank to every villain like you¡¯re at a meet-and-greet!¡± she retorted, exasperated.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°If I had known he could deep-six me by simply knowing my name, I would have told him I was Climmard!¡±  I hissed, regretting my honesty faster than I regretted that last beer.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do that ever again! I can¡¯t believe this.¡± Ichni huffed, crossing her arms. ¡°You really did need to give him your full r¨¦sum¨¦! Dullahan, forget that! It won¡¯t be fair if you win because my team leader is a fucking idiot!¡±

    ¡°Maybe you should be telling me everything I need to know when I¡¯m facing a powerful foe since you¡¯re the supreme tactician!¡± I shot back in equal spite.

    Dullahan didn¡¯t say anything, but when I noticed his face, I realized that it too was covered in shock. Was he so dumbstruck that I would actually hand him the bullet to shoot me with that he couldn¡¯t register the fact?

    ¡°I¡­ see.¡± He finally spoke, as though finally breaking from his revelation to observe me closer. ¡°What an interesting development, Adrian Legend. Color me shocked, to be honest.¡±

    His hoarse laugh began slowly as he pressed his hand to his face, but it rose in sound to a mighty holler of insane mirth. It echoed the hills as the symphony of death, indiscriminate in its victims, and I felt the life drain out of me and everything around me. Even the grass felt like it had lost its vibrant hue.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. You got an ace in the hole now. So what of it?¡± I said angrily. His head shook in his hand as though his condescension towards me was too much for him to bear.

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t understand, but I care little. A paladin of light though, in this day and age? Remarkable. Repulsive, even.¡± He finally said, eyeing me with wonder. ¡°Did you know I had a feat that the king likes to occasionally praise me for?¡±

    ¡°I assume your perfect attendance.¡± I jested, bending low to embrace a fight.

    ¡°No, no,¡± He corrected, leaning in as though letting me in on a secret. I swore I caught a whiff of fig breath. ¡°You see, I was known during my time during the great war for the number I slaughtered, but particularly,¡± He leaned further in, his eyes narrowing. ¡°That I was the one to have killed all the remaining Paladins in the war. I still remember disemboweling the last one, the memory of his awestruck face as he realized he was defeated still paints fresh in my mind.¡±

    It was a harrowing thought. The paladins that Ichni treated like the monster under the bed, all murdered viciously by this demon¡¯s hand. I felt mixed emotions before, but a lump in my throat built as I felt one finally rise from the rest. It was fear. I was facing someone who hunted my kind like animals, and took glee in ripping them apart.

    ¡°Or so I thought.¡± He continued, leaning back. ¡°It appears I had missed one¨C or rather, fate has brought forth another opportunity for me to claim my accolade once more.¡±

    He began walking towards me, a bloodthirsty look in his eyes.  ¡°So, Adrian the loyal Paladin, you managed to enter my realm, save the princess, and plan to go on some holy crusade, I presume. Subba.¡± He golf clapped by tapping the top of his helmet.

    ¡°Th-that¡¯s right,¡± I stammered, backpedaling a few steps to keep from being a Dullahan snack.

    ¡°Just what are your goals though, exactly? Even small drops can become oceans with enough drive, so I must know what story I¡¯m about to end.¡± He said with a fiendish smile. He was looking down on me like an insignificant cockroach that entered his pristine, unholy home.

    ¡°To shatter the chains of light, reclaim my mortal flesh, and save this kingdom from pure evil!¡± I proclaimed, voice quavering but firm.

    ¡°And to force my father to answer for his crimes and settle a debt with Onshi!¡± Ichni chimed in, draping herself over my shoulder like a snarky scarf.

    ¡°Both are absurd goals that don¡¯t align all that well with each other! What scattershot drivel is this?¡± He shot, taking turns to look at both of us.

    ¡°I figured we can take turns doing what the other wanted?¡± I suggested furtively, shrugging.

    ¡°You both are fools then. I was your last chance, princess, for you to find your little happy ending, and instead you decided to waste your last moments with this pathetic whelp who pretends he¡¯s some holy hero.¡± He scowled, his anger seething through his bared teeth. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure the warm arm that carries that gauntlet of yours runs cold before I drag you kicking and screaming back to the castle, if I must!¡±

    ¡°Dullahan, you can¡¯t seriously be siding with Onshi now,¡± Ichni pleaded as he loomed ever closer. ¡°You know you¡¯re playing right into his grubby hands!¡±

    ¡°You said it yourself, Princess. I never question the king¡¯s orders,¡± he replied, voice drifting from simmering rage to chilly detachment. ¡°Unshakable loyalty, a tragic little quirk of mine.¡±

    ¡°The Captain will pay for this injustice, and I will make you whole and right these wrongs in haste. I no longer care if it¡¯s with or without your permission.¡± Then he jabbed a finger at me. ¡°You, murderer.¡± I flinched so hard I nearly fell over¡ªnice to know my reputation¡¯s improved from clueless idiot to serial-killer.

    ¡°Murderer?!¡± I stammered, trying to frantically recall my previous sins.

    ¡°Killer of our kin. Slayer of those we call family and friends. Demonstrator of demonic demolition, is this poetic enough yet? A Paladin.¡± Dullahan¡¯s free fist clenched like he planned to punch a hole in my face.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re trying to paint up as your own evil enemy¡­¡± I muttered, realizing he was psyching himself up to get on with it.

    ¡°I know your kind,¡± He said in a warning scowl. ¡°Always sputtering fancy verses to justify murdering my own people. I don¡¯t want to hear it from someone who takes it three fingers deep for the light, wannabe.¡±

    ¡°¡°The fuck did you just say, you bargain-bin Halloween decoration?¡± I said haughtily, drawing my sword. I had completely forgotten that the holiday probably doesn¡¯t exist in this world, but I didn¡¯t care. ¡°I spent years memorizing every scripture written to have something prepared for every occasion!¡±

    ¡°Final chance, Ichni. Join me, and I¡¯ll spare this fool¡¯s pathetic life¡­ for now.¡± Dullahan purred, his devilish words breathing into Ichni¡¯s uncertain ears. ¡°Resist, and I¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s the loneliest box for you and the glove as I keep you safe. On your command, and he lives or dies where he stands. Khippa tell me you¡¯ll join me.¡±

    Silence stretched out with just a whisper of wind across the field. We stood locked in tension, itching to move. Still, Ichni didn¡¯t speak. She seemed to be struggling with an answer that would give a conclusion to the talk¨C like crossing a final line that she dared not cross.

    ¡°Princess¡­¡± Dullahan added. ¡°He lives to slaughter our people, the innocent. You¡¯d see him fit as your owner of the glove?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s¡­ not my owner,¡± Ichni said softly, glancing at my glove, then back at me. ¡°Nor is he a threat to the kingdom. He¡¯s my hope for it. My asaa, Dullahan.¡±

    It looked like Ichni¡¯s word cracked at Dullahan¡¯s resolve as he shifted uneasily, as though unable to make the next step that leaped into battle. He was hesitating, and Ichni pressed on.

    ¡°I spent my whole life caged in that damn castle,¡± she continued, voice steady. ¡°Its shadows blinded everyone to the world¡¯s misery. My father might feign ignorance, but I can¡¯t¡ªand I won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°For all these years, I stood idle. And now, Dullahan? I¡¯m a damn spirit trapped in a glove and STILL, I¡¯m somehow freer than ever,¡± she said with a half-laugh of disbelief.

    ¡°This guy¡¯s the real deal. He sees how messed up things are, and he plans to fix it. He¡¯s GOING to fix it.¡±

    ¡°So Dullahan, here¡¯s your answer; I¡¯m not fuckin¡¯ going anywhere unless my new chauffeur is driving the carriage.¡± Ichni declared.

    ¡°I¡¯ll buy the first drink when I get your own body back, too.¡± I said with a grim smile as I readied the blade. Its teal glow gave me courage as it began its own battle against the menacing shadow of the dreadknight.

    ¡°Damn right we are, I hate this merdu glove.¡± She scoffed.

    Dullahan gave a sigh that felt like the last rattling breath of a dying soldier. It was one of resignation that his plan had failed.

    ¡°...Very well,¡± he said at last, voice flat. ¡°I accept I cannot persuade you back home.¡±

    ¡°Good, now get the hell out of our way and leave us be!¡± Ichni snapped, sounding more hopeful than she had all morning.

    ¡°Natt.¡± Dullahan snarled, and a sickly pale blue aura began to emanate from him. I saw the grass around him really die this time, and realized that his killing intent had returned in full force. Yup, murder mode reactivated.

    ¡°Natt?!¡± Ichni remanded, pouting.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing that means ¡®no dice,¡¯¡± I said, frowning. ¡°Why not? You¡¯re obviously not all-in on this murder-fest.¡±

    ¡°Do you seriously believe I was going to let you two pass me, alive? I think not. Courageous or foolish ambitions alike, you¡¯re too dangerous to go on. I will give her highness¡¯s new caretaker a parting gift.  Let me offer you¡­ eternal rest.¡± His smile, wistful in the grief of losing his princess as a friend, was twisted and mocking as he slid the helmet shut. Then he lunged, making it crystal clear that his ¡®gift-wrapping¡¯ would be very, very painful.

 Chapter 20: For Whom The Bell Tolls

    ¡°Psst, Adrian!¡± Ichni hissed urgently into my ear as Dullahan lunged forward. ¡°We need to reach the bridge by the river! I¡¯ve got another plan!¡±

    ¡°Again, Ichni¡ª!¡± I snapped, struggling to maintain focus. Dullahan¡¯s charge was shockingly fast despite his heavy armor. His free fist, wrapped in that ghostly aura, hurtled toward my chest. At the last possible instant, I twisted my torso and sprang one step aside, his knuckles whistling past my cuirass. The force of his missed blow stirred the dust at my feet. ¡°Telling me sooner might¡¯ve helped!¡± I added, voice strained as I regained my footing.

    ¡°Well, sorry, but I had a perfect moment¡ªthen I got sidetracked by that statue story!¡± she sputtered.

    All the while, I had to keep moving. I may have had almost two decades of training in all manner of combat, but my body wasn¡¯t about to spring into prime form from memory alone. Dullahan¡¯s next strike swept low, his gauntlet cutting a vicious arc through the air. I jerked backward, knees bending to absorb my weight as I narrowly avoided his knuckles slamming into my ribs. He came so close that sparks danced where his aura grazed my breastplate, leaving a thin scratch on the metal. A chill ran through me, knowing how close that was to breaching my armor and my heart beneath it.

    I flourished the Aether Blade at the next swing, stumbling into a retreat with less elegance than I¡¯d have liked. Still, I managed to plant my heels and adopt the second Holy Stance¡ªDefending Horizon¡ªraising my blade high, held horizontally above my head. Dullahan¡¯s laugh echoed like distant thunder.

    ¡°Oh ho, that stance?¡± he sneered. ¡°Heroes have perished striking that very pose!¡±

    He leapt again, this time angling his fist in a wicked diagonal uppercut. I caught the subtle shift of his shoulders a moment before his blow soared upward, allowing me to ready my blade¡¯s edge to intercept his force.

    Despite his heavy plating, Dullahan moved with a deceptive agility, each strike telegraphed by grand gestures but delivered with startling speed. As he dashed forward, I timed my defense carefully, pivoting my hips and guiding the flat of my blade against his incoming blow. The Aether Blade rang dully as it deflected his gauntlet away. Seeing a fleeting gap, I attempted a direct thrust at the head he cradled in his arm, hoping to end this madness in one fell swoop. But he snapped up a plated knee with impossible flexibility, batting aside my sword as though it were a bothersome fly.

    For several tense moments, we circled and clashed¡ªhe pressed in, I yielded ground; I probed for an opening, he locked down every approach. Each time I tried for a joint or the vulnerable head, he interposed a shoulder plate, a forearm guard, or even angled his chest piece to deflect my strikes. It felt like fighting a fortress that knew every feint and counter in existence. I ground my teeth, realizing how effortlessly he controlled the battlefield and denied me any telling blow.

    ¡°Trying to read my pattern, Paladin?¡± Dullahan sneered, suddenly hooking my blade¡¯s tip between the horns of his helmet. The sickening scrape of steel against bone-like horn rang in my ears as he pulled me closer. ¡°Each swing drains you. Each graze I land saps your strength. I never tire, never falter. I could spar until the sun dies!¡±

    With a violent twist of his head-helm contraption, he threw me off balance. Before I recovered, he slammed his free fist into the earth. The impact reverberated like a massive bell, a shockwave that sent me sprawling backward. I hit the ground hard, breath knocked out as dust rose in stinging clouds.

    When he lifted his hand, I realized with horror that he¡¯d dragged something from the soil¡ªa corpse wrenched up as if plucked from a hidden mass grave. His pale aura soaked into its limbs, making them twitch and groan as life¡ªan awful, unnatural life¡ªflowed into dead flesh. He let it drop, and the newly risen zombie staggered upright, hungry growls escaping its twisted maw.

    ¡°I have a new ally, Adrian! A relative of yours, perhaps?¡± Dullahan taunted, watching the zombie sway between us. ¡°No matter, their end will be¡ªwait, what¡ª?¡±

    He noticed too late that I had seized the moment his attention wavered. Kicking off the ground, I sprang backward into the dust haze, pivoting on my heel and sprinting west. Following Ichni¡¯s earlier suggestion, I aimed for the river bridge, hoping the terrain would give me some kind of advantage. Each step jarred my tired bones, but fear drove me faster than reason ever could.

    As I fled, Ichni was wrapped around me and shooting webs like she was having a spitting contest, making web patterns and slapping them on the deeper cuts like duct tape on a battered box. Her efforts stung slightly where metal pressed into bruises, but I couldn¡¯t afford to slow down.

    ¡°Adrian, zombo at six o¡¯clock!¡± she warned, voice urgent.

    ¡°How far¨C WOOOOFGH!¡± I began, but never finished. Something fast and heavy slammed into my back, hooking an arm around my torso and driving me down. The ground rushed up to greet me, knocking the air from my lungs. The zombie proved disturbingly nimble, landing us both in a sprawl of dust and pain.

    ¡°He¡¯s right here!¡± Ichni yelped, not exactly helpful but timely. I managed to twist onto my back, thrusting a boot into the creature¡¯s gaping jaws. My foot connected with a wet crunch, snapping its head back and tumbling it off me. The thing was quick, yes, but didn¡¯t seem built for endurance.

    Seizing the moment, I scrambled upright and slashed horizontally with the Aether Blade, steel meeting rotten flesh in a sickening rip. The zombie¡¯s torso split, dangling by strands of sinew. It tried to push itself up, but the strain broke it into two separate halves.

    ¡°Th-that should¡ª¡± I began, but the severed top half sprang at me on its hands, an undead gymnast performing a macabre cartwheel. Shocked, I lunged forward and angled a decisive chop at its head, scattering bone shards and decayed brain matter. As I turned to finish off the lower half, it had already darted away blindly, skittering off into the distance like a headless puppet refusing stage directions. For now, I let it go¡ªsurvival took precedence over chasing half a zombie across the fields.

    I allowed myself a brief, blissful sigh of relief¡ªexactly half a second¡¯s worth¡ªbefore I noticed Dullahan closing in again, now proudly accompanied by three fresh zombies like they were his personal undead entourage. With no shame, I took off in a flailing sprint.

    ¡°Get back here, boy!¡± he roared, voice resonating like a broken church organ. ¡°Where is your honor, fleeing from our grand showdown?¡±

    ¡°Honor?!¡± I yelled over my shoulder, nearly tripping on a stray root. ¡°It¡¯s four against one! Two if you count Ichni, who¡¯s basically a talking backpack saving my ass! How about you cut the haunted house act and fight me yourself?¡±¡±

    ¡°YOU¡¯RE THE ONE RUNNING AWAY FROM ME!¡± Dullahan thundered, picking up speed like a medieval freight train. Note to self: never taunt a headless knight who moonlights as a track star.

    The three zombies rushed at me like rabid groupies, arms flailing, jaws slack. Gritting my teeth, I planted my feet, thrusting the gauntlet forward like a third-rate superhero striking a pose. A sharp twinge of pain in my chest told me this was risky, but I went for it anyway. My breath misted out, giving me that dramatic final-boss aura I definitely hadn¡¯t earned yet.

    ¡°Obey!¡± I barked, voice unexpectedly echoing like I¡¯d shouted into a bucket. The zombies halted mid-charge, their eyes flipping from eerie blue to shimmering gold as Command Undead took hold, and was now blinking at me as if waiting for dance instructions. Behind them, Dullahan slowed down, momentarily baffled, as if pondering whether I¡¯d just glitched the game.

    ¡°WHAT.¡± Dullahan snarled, tone flat with exasperation. I still couldn¡¯t figure out if I managed to seize him, but considering the effort it took last time just to unhinge his jaw, I was safe to assume he was standing of his own furious will.

    ¡°Kill the dreadknight,¡± I commanded, voice stern as if I were instructing well-trained puppies instead of zombie nightmares. At once, the zombies pivoted like synchronized swimmers, shuffling off to harass their former boss.

    ¡°KILL THE STUPID GHOUL!¡± Dullahan roared, voice cranked up to eleven. For a terrifying instant, I felt the pressure of his command; my stomach did a backflip, but since I wasn¡¯t technically undead, I just grimaced. The zombies, meanwhile, turned around so abruptly one nearly fell over itself.

    ¡°No, kill him!¡± I yelled, trying to out-shout Dullahan. The poor undead minions hesitated, turning left, then right, like undead ping-pong balls. One made a brave leap at Dullahan¡ªwho swatted it into confetti with one contemptuous swing before somehow magically returning its splattered state back into a loosely humanoid form.

    ¡°NO, KILL HIM!¡± Dullahan bellowed again, pointing at me as if selecting a dinner entree he wanted well-done. The zombies sighed in undead frustration¡ªif zombies could sigh¡ªand pivoted like disgruntled soldiers whose drill instructor kept changing orders mid-march.

    ¡°Ignore his commands, kill him instead!¡± I insisted, voice cracking slightly. With each conflicting order, I felt like I¡¯d run a mental marathon. Sweat trickled down my forehead, and though I wasn¡¯t sure if Dullahan could actually tire, I could sense his patience fraying.

    ¡°HURRREGHHH~!¡± one zombie wailed, dropping to its knees as if experiencing an existential crisis. Another, fed up with this undead custody battle, grabbed its own skull and tore it off with a sound like wet celery snapping. The last one, the newly reconstituted zombie, tried a bizarre approach: it sprinted towards me backward, an undead moonwalking in fast-forward as it flailed into combat. I promptly ended its tap-dance audition with a quick slash, sending scraps of rotten flesh flying.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Dullahan growled, voice dripping with pure, unfiltered annoyance. He stomped the last kneeling zombie into the dirt with a horrid squelch, as if canceling this entire undead fiasco. ¡°You want to play games? Let¡¯s see what witty orders you babble when I yank out your intestines!¡±

    I gave him my most dignified reply: ¡°Nah, I¡¯m good!¡± Then I spun on my heel and bolted again, kicking up dust as I fled. The only thing I felt was a faint hope that the bridge¡ªand Ichni¡¯s brilliant, still-unknown plan¡ªmight save me from a literal gut-wrenching fate.

    As I continued my frantic dash across the open fields, I noticed Dullahan wasn¡¯t going full speed like in the sewers¡ªmaybe he¡¯d left his turbo setting behind.

    ¡°Hey, Dooly!¡± Ichni hollered, draped over my shoulder as if auditioning for a melodramatic opera. ¡°Oh, save me! This filthy knight wants to do unspeakable things, oh woe is me! Where¡¯s your valiant magic now, you stinky murakka?¡±

    I nearly choked on my own confusion. Why provoke him now? I already had death nibbling at my heels like undead piranhas! But, surprisingly, Dullahan¡¯s pace faltered as he tried to justify himself.

    ¡°It¡¯s broad daylight!¡± he sputtered, voice strained. ¡°My magic¡¯s weaker, you know that, princess! Don¡¯t make me stoop to poor tactics! And what do you mean ¡®have his way¡¯?!¡±

    Perfect. Ichni¡¯s trolling was causing him to trip over his own righteousness.

    ¡°He touches me at night!¡± Ichni sobbed theatrically. ¡°The other day, he put his whole hand all over me!¡± Her face contorted into a horrific, shit-eating grin of fake despair. ¡°He even puts it inside me!¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, you are literally inside a glove!¡± I hissed, dodging a stray rock. ¡°Stop feeding gossip to the homicidal headless knight!¡± Ichni rewarded my plea with a flick to the head¡ªlovely teamwork.

    Peering over my shoulder, I saw Dullahan juggling curses and threats like a street performer with too many props. He was so busy shouting that his sprint slipped into a jog. His dramatic villain monologue was costing him precious meters. He was falling behind, and I suppressed a grin. This was working better than any weapon I¡¯d tried.

    ¡°Awesome job, Ichni! Feel free to mention how I ¡®fist you nightly¡¯ if it slows him down!¡± I blurted, mentally smacking myself for that image. Desperate times, desperate measures.

    Then I caught something huge looming overhead. A colossal shadow swallowed the sunlight, and I dove aside just as an enormous undead giant slammed into the earth. A shockwave of dust and pebbles rattled my armor.

    This gargantuan corpse was not only huge, it was¡­ stark naked. Perfect. My eyes flicked between the giant¡¯s top head and, uh, the other head that definitely wasn¡¯t for thinking. Ichni gagged loudly, and I silently prayed any future adaptation would blur this scene.

    ¡°Holy merdu, that¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s too big!¡± Ichni croaked, half in horror, half in something else entirely.

    Too exhausted to guess which specifically Ichni meant, I focused on breathing. The giant lifted a disturbingly thick arm and swung down¡ªan attack I wanted no part of. I dodged early, flinging myself aside before any swinging anatomy could flatten or traumatize me further.

    Rolling beneath its colossal ¡°health bar¡±, I ended up face-to-butt-cheek and grimaced. With no time to complain, I adopted the fourth Holy Stance, Retribution. Jerky, awkward motions combined with the Aether Blade¡¯s edge, this technique favored relentless strikes aimed at crippling large foes. Perfect.

    The giant¡¯s moves were ponderous and obvious, like a drunk trying to swat a mosquito. Each time it raised an arm, I slipped away, striking at its joints, gouging metal-shredding swipes into putrid flesh. It roared like a beast possessed, thrashing wildly and turning the field into a cratered mess. I bobbed and weaved, praying no ¡°appendage¡± would hit me in the face.

    Eventually, I managed one last cockblock as I hacked into a leg, dropping it to its knees with a bone-rattling thud. Seizing my chance, I swung the Aether Blade in a forceful arc, severing its head¡ªand let¡¯s be clear, the upper one. The giant toppled forward, mercifully belly-down.

    Catching my breath, I glanced at the distant river, still maddeningly far. Wonderful.

    Panting and sore, I dared to rest against a nearby tree, trying to steady my nerves and locate Dullahan. He was nowhere in sight¡ªwhich was never a good sign.

    Then something clamped onto my arm, the pressure sudden and brutal. The tree¡¯s shadow seemed impossibly dark, and with a jolt of horror I realized why. I hadn¡¯t been leaning on mere bark. I¡¯d been leaning on Dullahan himself, lurking in the gloom like a predatory statue.

    Well, shit.

    ¡°Boo,¡± Dullahan growled, voice low and menacing, his teeth gripping my normal glove. A sudden, crushing blow struck my abdomen before I could react, the force of it rattling my bones. I felt ribs give under the impact, pain lancing through my torso. The air expelled from my lungs as I was hurled several meters back, slamming into the earth and rolling to a stop in a cloud of dust and dry grass.

    Dazed, I managed to shift my legs just in time to avoid a lethal mishap as my sword came plummeting down, embedding itself between them. I forced out a pained groan, each breath stirring fresh agony in my fractured ribs. Glancing down, I confirmed what the throbbing pain suggested: the chainmail held, but the flesh beneath had begun to blacken and shrivel. His aura carried a vile energy that spread decay through my body, a slow, rotting corruption that threatened to unravel me from within. From Dullahan¡¯s fist, still clenched from the punch, his sickly blue aura had carved itself into a blade that had necrotically pierced me.

    Ichni hovered near me, her eyes wide with silent despair. Even she could tell this wound was beyond a quick remedy. No makeshift web or hasty patch would undo the necrotic taint eating at my flesh.

    ¡°Do you hear it, Adrian?¡± Dullahan¡¯s voice emerged soft and steady, yet laden with grim purpose. ¡°The bells of Ner¡¯gal ring when death is near. Those deemed worthy find peace, but those who hear only silence drift forever in emptiness.¡±

    His words chilled me more than any threat. He spoke not as a conqueror, but as a herald of doom. With ragged breaths, I forced my trembling legs beneath me, relying on the Aether Blade¡¯s hilt to stabilize myself. Pain roared in my bones, and nausea twisted in my gut, yet I refused to collapse. I stood, barely, confronted by the quiet certainty of my foe¡¯s intent.

    Raising my blade, I lifted it close enough to feel its subtle glow wash over my bruised features.

    ¡°The first Holy Stance,¡± I murmured, voice tight, ¡°Lion¡¯s Humility.¡±

    Dullahan slowed, the hollow wind rattling through his ragged armor as he regarded this quiet defiance. In the blade¡¯s gentle radiance, I found a fragile peace. I recalled why I fought¡ªfor Ichni, for the innocent lives who deserved better, and for the spark of goodness I once carried as a paladin. Though I¡¯d fallen far from that path, the essence of it remained within me.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear no bell,¡± I finally said, refusing to accept the fate he tried to script for me.

    ¡°Mmm, mm-hm-hm-hmm¡­ I taste your fear,¡± Dullahan snarled, voice like distant thunder.

    ¡°I am afraid,¡± I admitted, steadying my stance. ¡°But what I fear more is failing those I vowed to shield.¡± With a sharp breath, I transitioned into the second Holy Stance, calling forth its disciplined precision.

    A sudden roar of flames cut through the tension. Without warning, fire engulfed Dullahan¡¯s form, the heat searing the air, forcing him into a startled retreat. One moment he stood poised to finish me; the next, he thrashed amid hungry flames that danced along his armor¡¯s edges.

    ¡°Thought ya might need a wee bit o¡¯ help, Mr. Hero,¡± a voice rumbled from behind me. A strong gauntlet¡ªwith stubs of forest green and smoking with residual heat¡ªclamped reassuringly onto my shoulder. Quen¡¯s presence arrived like a bulwark against despair.

    ¡°Glad ta see yer still breathin¡¯, lad,¡± Quen said, her grip steady and encouraging. I couldn¡¯t muster a smile amid this chaos, but I offered her a grateful nod. Without her timely arrival, I doubted I¡¯d still be standing.

    No longer dressed in simple smithing attire, Quen now wore a heavy leather tunic reinforced with iron strips. These bands circled her shoulders and arms like forged ribs, a makeshift exoskeleton built to withstand crushing force. A broad belt, bristling with tools and pouches, testified to her craft and her cunning. Her knees were guarded by studded pads that looked capable of shrugging off a blade¡¯s edge. Her boots bore iron soles that hissed against the scorched earth. At her side hung her warhammer¡ªonce a blacksmith¡¯s companion, now a brutal instrument of war.

    With each controlled breath Quen took, the iron plating along her arms shimmered, heating and cooling in a steady rhythm. She slammed her gauntleted fists together, summoning fire that burst forth in a molten spray, sparks scattering across charred grass. Her presence radiated confidence and the elemental fury of a smoldering forge.

    ¡°Qu-Quen! Y-you¡¯re joining the team?!¡± Ichni asked, her voice trembling with a mixture of relief and awe.

    The orc blacksmith gave a curt shake of her head. ¡°Helpin¡¯, aye, but dinnae mistake me fer joinin¡¯ any ¡®team.¡¯ I¡¯m here ta do what must be done,¡± she replied, voice firm and unyielding.

    As the flames receded, Dullahan¡¯s condition had visibly deteriorated. His cape hung in charred ribbons, and the acrid stench of scorched flesh clung to the air. As he regained his position, his head appeared from behind his crossed arms, a single eye peeking with absolute murder in it at Quen.

    ¡°Was it worth it, blacksmith?¡± he hissed, voice raw. ¡°Your paltry life¡¯s work sacrificed for a fleeting rush of courage?¡±

    Quen met his glare without flinching. ¡°Aye, Lieutenant. Ye¡¯ve bullied and butchered fer too long. Today, ya learn humility.¡±

    I steadied myself, keeping my voice low, ¡°We need time. Ichni¡¯s plan involves the river. If you can hold him here, Quen¡­¡±

    She nodded once, without words, acknowledging the grim request. Her stance widened, boots grinding into the ash-laden ground.

    ¡°Piece o¡¯ cake,¡± Quen finally snarled as she got into position, grinding her fists until sparks danced wildly between them. ¡°Let¡¯s see how ya handle a real brawler, Dullahan!¡±

    The brand on her forearm flared, and her gauntlets responded in a surge of heat and light. I realized then they were forged of elementium, the same rare metal as the Aether Blade. Flames coiled around her hands, the roar of superheated air reminding me of bellows in an infernal forge. As the blaze receded, her simple gloves were replaced by massive, wickedly curved metal claws, their blackened steel edges gleaming red-hot. Twin vents in each palm exhaled scorching breath like miniature furnaces. They looked capable of tearing through plate and bone alike.

    She looked hot as hell, figuratively and literally.

    Dullahan¡¯s previous arrogance melted into grim determination as he shifted to a guarded stance. He jammed his head onto his shoulders, and when the latches that held his helmet to his head made a click, he let go. His flopped to the side slightly, but it seemed like he locked it partially into place as he glowered at the new contender. His eye burned with a steady, lethal focus.

    ¡°Here we go,¡± Quen rumbled, her voice resonating with the heat. Without warning, her claws expelled a burst of compressed fire from their backs, launching her forward in a blur of sparks and molten ash.

    If Dullahan was a unyielding sprinter, she was a charging train from hell, and she flew in with fire left in her scorching trail. Dullahan met her charge with raised arms, aura flickering at the edges like ghostly blades.

    ¡°Back her up,¡± Ichni urged, voice tight. ¡°If he goes down, we run.¡± I offered a pained nod, lungs protesting each breath. Still, I forced myself to flank Dullahan.

    Quen¡¯s onslaught was relentless¡ªthunderous blows, searing bursts of heat. Dullahan reacted with quick, precise blocks, careful never to let her claws snare him. Their exchange rattled the earth, each impact cratering soil and sending shockwaves through my battered body.

    I seized a moment while Dullahan angled his defense toward Quen, spotting a vulnerable gap along the back of his leg¡¯s armor plating. Darting in low, I aimed the Aether Blade¡¯s tip for that kink. But as if sensing my move, Dullahan lashed out with a vicious roundhouse kick that caught me under the chin, hurling me aside and slamming me to the ground.

    ¡°Die!¡± he roared, raising a fist crackling with aura, ready to smash me flat.

    I braced for the killing blow, but Quen intervened from behind him. She lunged, one claw snapping open and locking onto Dullahan¡¯s forearm mid-swing. As I scuttled away, intense heat shimmered around her gauntlet, molten air distorting the view as she unleashed a searing brand of pain onto the demon¡¯s limb. Dullahan¡¯s scream tore through the battlefield.

    Desperate to dislodge her, he swung her entire body overhead in a brutal arc. Quen struck the ground with a thunderous crash, earth rupturing beneath her. Her claw tore free, leaving scorched gouges in Dullahan¡¯s armor. Getting to position to attack, I faltered when I saw the sight of Quen. Her shoulder was dislocated from the motion by the looks of it, and as she began to recover from her daze, Dullahan drove a savage stomp into her chest. The sickening crunch of armor and flesh giving way sent a chill down my spine, and blood sprayed from across the scorched soil.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°BLUURGH!¡± She gasped, blood splattering out.

    ¡°Moths that dance too close to the flame burn out, orc.¡± He said ruefully, twisted his foot in. Quen howled in agony, her injured arm spasming. My eyes locked on the one thing I hated in that moment, cursing him with everything I held dear.

    ¡°KNEEL.¡±  I ordered, and I felt a cough of blood follow as Command Undead forced him to jerkily shift his weight to the side.

    ¡°You-!¡± Dullahan began, before screaming in agony.

    Quen, despite being battered and broken, refused to give up. Now free of her pin, she had wrenched her uninjured claw upward, seizing his kneeling leg by the thigh and twisting savagely. Harnessing raw fury, her gauntlet began jetting forward as they both started taking into the air. Twisting him around like a hammertoss, she heaved him overhead, hurling Dullahan through the distant landscape. He tore through hillocks and snapped trees like twigs before slamming down far away.

    His fading roar echoed, then silence hung over the battlefield like a funeral shroud.

    ¡°You wanna see me dance, pretty-boy? I¡¯ll show ye a dance,¡± Quen snarled, her voice low and strained. Her shoulder hung at a sickening angle, tendons twisted, but as Ichni approached to assist, Quen simply shook her head. Without hesitation, she snapped her shoulder back into its socket. A muffled girlish scream escaped her throat, and blood trickled from a cut along her jawline. The scent of iron and sweat filled the air. She stood there, wounded and trembling, yet still radiating raw determination. Her breathing came in ragged gulps, each one a struggle against her battered frame.

    ¡°We need to go, now.¡± I said pleadingly. ¡°He¡¯s bent out of shape, and once we escape him, Ichni can do her thing and recuperate. Quen,¡± I added. ¡°I know you said you didn¡¯t want to join us, but I can¡¯t leave you here like this. Come with us for now and let Ichni patch you up, and you can figure it out from there.¡±

    Quen¡¯s eyes flicked over me, filled with a fierce intensity that made my spine prickle. For a heartbeat, I feared she might lash out at anyone nearby¡ªally or foe. But then her gaze softened to grim acceptance. She gave a curt nod, and we set off toward the river, leaving the ravaged battlefield and our monstrous pursuer behind us, if only for a precious moment.

    The river¡¯s dull roar guided us through scorched fields and toppled trees. Each step sent pain flaring through my battered bones. Eventually, a simple wooden bridge emerged from the gloom, its ropes creaking in the soft breeze. Not elegant, but stable enough to bear our escape. I exhaled shakily, daring to hope that Dullahan lagged behind, too weakened to continue his relentless chase.

    I turned to Ichni, forcing steady words through cracked lips. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±

    She hesitated, then said, ¡°Dullahan¡­ he fears the river. I believed that drawing him close would force him back, give us a chance.¡±

    ¡°Water?¡± I asked, voice doubtful. Quen¡¯s eyes narrowed, suspicious. Ichni had managed some rudimentary web-binding on Quen¡¯s wounds, but the orc still trembled with fury and pain.

    Ichni pressed on. ¡°He flailed in the sewers. I thought if we approached real running water, like a river, he¡¯d recoil.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure it works like that. Wouldn¡¯t he be terrified of rain then, too?¡± I muttered, taking pain staking steps to continue the trek. Ichni had webbed me too, but it wasn¡¯t working as well against the necrotic attack.

    ¡°Well, huh. I did see him standing in the rain!¡± She said thoughtfully. ¡°He would glower over the castle walls and look hazily into the distance whenever it rained, like some kind of moody vigilante!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose then,¡± Quen said through a deep tremor of her voice. ¡°That maybe yer idea is WRONG?!¡±

    ¡°Nah, it¡¯s because rain is like tiny river babies!¡± Ichni said indignantly, although she notably put herself behind me. ¡°Running water like the river or the sewage is like an angry mob! You can understand the difference, right, Addy?¡±

    ¡°When did you start to call me Addy?¡± I remarked, bothered by the nickname whenever she was trying to be sweet on me. ¡°I¡¯m not ¡®Adamantine¡¯, I¡¯m Adrian.¡±

    ¡°Oh khippa, it¡¯s just a nickname! Plus, it sounds good on you!¡± She chirped as though it¡¯s been already decided.

    I grunted in response, not having the willpower to argue, when a sudden spasm seized my gut. I doubled over and vomited violently, spraying half-digested scraps and bitter bile onto the dirt. My throat burned, raw and torn. As I wiped my mouth, I noticed stringy fragments of tissue¡ªmy own flesh dissolving from within, a gruesome reminder of Dullahan¡¯s necrotic strike. My heart hammered in dread.

    A suffocating dread settled over me. I wasn¡¯t just failing physically¡ªI sensed a deeper, darker threat closing in. Then it came: a monstrous peal, like a bell struck backward, bending the very air. Immediately after, a shrieking wail tore through reality, hitting me like a blade of raw agony.

    ¡°HEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGHHHHH~!¡±

    The cry speared my mind. My joints locked, sinews snapping taut. My tongue swelled unbearably, suffocating my pleas. I toppled over, helpless. From the corner of my vision, Quen also crumpled, her proud stance reduced to twitching silence. We lay in the dirt, limbs rigid as if bound by invisible chains. Froth oozed from my lips. I could not command even a finger.

    Overhead, birds fell lifeless, plummeting like dead leaves. Trees shriveled into ashen husks. Grass and flowers withered to brittle twigs beneath a deathly hush. We hovered between life and oblivion.

    Questions rattled in my skull, but no words could form. I only heard measured footsteps crushing dead foliage. Dullahan stepped into view, half-burned flesh and exposed bone visible through gaps in his charred armor. Each ragged breath he drew released pale vapor into the tainted air. His gaze fixed upon us, cold and triumphant.

    ¡°Adrian¡­ Quen!¡± Ichni¡¯s voice trembled but carried. She alone seemed untouched by this crippling curse. ¡°Focus! Resist him!¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary¡­ princess.¡± Dullahan said softly, using the last word as a scathing insult. ¡°My wail can kill all that hear it. Even though I held back, it seems they were still too weak to resist it. I merely hoped to paralyze them!¡± He chuckled, as though embarrassed that he had overdone it, and pulled out a piece of metal from his side.

    ¡°Worry not, Paladin, blacksmith. I acknowledge your strength and do not wish you a grueling, suffering despair.¡± I heard him say as I bit my tongue down to breathe.

    ¡°Use your last breaths to bear witness to what shall be your guillotine. Do not turn away, but revel in the sword that has carved the very annals of all demon history.¡± As he spoke, he lifted the piece of metal and realized it was a hilt; blackened steel from the pummel to the guard, a black diamond glittered ominously in the center. It felt as dark as the pit of a sealed grave, and I began jerking and twisting as I felt the strongest urge to run, to hide, to escape and live. It was the most carnal fear I¡¯ve felt as he intoned the next words:

    ¡°Feast, Shattermourne.¡±

    The world went dark, as though calling its name had stirred it to have eaten the sun, the stars, and the cosmo itself. The sickly blue aura that had once surrounded Dullahan shot out of the hilt, turning into a cosmic blue that writhed and waned. Energy gathered around the dreadknight as a massive spiked spine coiled from behind the remains of Dullahan¡¯s cape, past his arm and up the hilt. The condensed energy shot to the aura and began forming broken pieces of black scrap, glued into place by the cosmic magic that had initially formed the blade.

    When it had finished answering Dullahan¡¯s call, the darkness had shifted to a low dusk sky. My eyes grew bloodshot at the fierce beauty of the blade. It was a greatsword that matched the fiery greatsword version of the Aether Blade, but it glowed a beautiful azure blue. Rather than a complete edge, the sword was a series of broken chunks and edges that formed a loose description of a blade, and a bone spine was, well, clinched as the literal backbone of it.

    Dullahan tested it with a swift, savage swing. Shattermourne, a dangerous two meters in length already, unfurled like a metal scourge, biting deep into a distant hillside and carving out a jagged trench. Not a sword, but a massive bladed whip¡ªlethal at impossible range.

    ¡°Now, do you understand your role?¡± He said, continuing his hoarse whisper. ¡°You have failed, all of you. Do you see now why I held back? I pitied you. You struggled and flailed, cried and cursed, and I enjoyed it. You served as proof that Ichni should have chosen me. But I do not enjoy this, not anymore. I will not hold back this time. Your fate is to rot here, and your graves will serve to remind future generations what it means to challenge the crown.¡±

    I forced my eyes toward Quen¡¯s still form. Her chest barely rose¡ªif at all. My limbs refused to obey, leaving me helpless and pinned to the earth like a broken doll. Despair gnawed at my mind.

    Ichni¡¯s scream wracked the air, a sound of pure heartbreak and horror. The memory of her voice when Onshi took her life¡¯s last hope echoed in that cry. No cunning words, no desperate pleas would save us now. She knew, as I did, that this was our end.

    ¡°Ichni, don¡¯t worry about us.¡± I muttered as I felt the executioner take patient steps towards us. ¡°No matter what. You need to stay strong. I picked a fight we couldn¡¯t win, but I don¡¯t regret saving the townsfolk. I don¡¯t regret saving you. And I don¡¯t regret dying for you.¡±

    Her tears fell on me, and though the wet stains never came, I felt the cold beads as they touched my skin. It was all it took to relax me. I closed my eyes in acceptance. This was the death I wished I had last time. I fought, against impossible odds, looked cool as hell, and then had someone weep that I did my best. This seems right.

    But it felt more than tears. Rain began to fall, a cold, unexpected shower that drummed against the charred soil. I blinked in astonishment as a bolt of lightning struck dangerously close to Dullahan, forcing a snarl from his lips.

    ¡°You have some nerve interfering with demon affairs, old man.¡± Dullahan spat, recoiling as raindrops sizzled against his wounded flesh.

    Ichni¡¯s voice quavered, ¡°What¡­ what is this?¡± Quen stirred beside me, coughing weakly.

    This is some deus ex machina shit if there¡¯s a ¡°Rain of Resurrection¡± spell happening. If the gods themselves wanted to spit in my mouth for a second chance though, I¡¯d gladly have accepted it at this point.

    As the gentle flow of water bathed me in its embrace, I felt my body crackle from the numbness, and back into the rattling pains I had accrued from the fight. I took a deep gasp, unsure if it would still be my last, and with sweet relief I realized that I could feel my fingers wiggling in the mud. The invisible pins that crucified me to the ground were viciously pulled out, leaving me wincing but mobile.

    I realized the rain didn¡¯t heal me fully, but it washed away the lingering paralysis of the wail¡¯s curse. The necrotic rot¡¯s savage bite eased into a tolerable agony. Not salvation, but a reprieve. I exhaled another trembling breath, relieved at even this small mercy. Ichni¡¯s makeshift web patches finally began to make a difference.

    Struggling upright, I noticed the rain¡¯s effect on Dullahan¡ªhis damaged flesh blistered further, subtle burns marking his once invulnerable facade. He scowled, enraged at this unexpected setback. Another shriek erupted, and I assumed I was about to plop dead again.

    But no, I instead flinched from the trauma of the bastard¡¯s previous wail as a high pitched shout churned into a laugh.

    ¡°BRUAH-HA-HA-HA!¡± A girl¡¯s voice shouted. ¡°Hey Adrian, guess what! I killed more hoplops than you, nyeh nyeh!¡±

    As I laid there, humiliated with the mud, an angel stood on a nearby stump that Dullahan had plowed through earlier. As my vision focused, I realized it wasn¡¯t some celestial being, but that blonde haired brat with the bow!

    ¡°Serah! Run!¡± I shouted in panic, pulling myself up and struggling to get Quen to do the same. She lurched and tumbled, her own body hissing, though I realized it was from the heated metal meeting the rain. I saw the bridge, so close, and the river had built up from a peaceful flow to whitewater waves.

    ¡°You moron! I¡¯m helping you!¡± Serah barked, her voice cutting and earnest. ¡±Gramps didn¡¯t have the heart to let you march off to die, so we¡¯re giving a lending hand as thanks for that money you lent us!¡± She shouted, as though she was exactly where she wanted to be. Her tone carried fierce resolve, as if risking her life here was no more than a fair exchange for a past debt.

    I balked. Her grandpa and her were performing a fucking miracle over one silver coin? I wish I gave her everything I had!

    Dullahan¡¯s fury exploded. ¡°You worthless bags of water! I¡¯ll annihilate you so thoroughly your ancestors will weep!¡± He lashed Shattermourne at her, gouging into the mud. But a bolt of lightning answered him, forcing him back with a blinding flash. He snarled, cursing us all. The storm¡¯s wrath and these unforeseen allies had momentarily halted his killing stroke. ¡°Damn you. Damn all of you!¡±

    I seized the moment, hauling Quen toward the bridge. Ichni hovered close, her face drawn and pale yet resolute. The river¡¯s roar called to us, and we had no time for shock or questions. Only escape mattered now, before Dullahan recovered from his rage and struck again.

    As I stepped away, however, the sound came again¡ªan impossible toll of broken bronze. A bell¡¯s echo twisted in reverse, each warped ring clinging to my skin like cold leeches. Before, it had unsettled me; now I realized it beckoned, as if holding out a dreadful gift. Then, without warning, all light vanished.

    I found myself alone in a silent, sightless void. Quen¡¯s weight had vanished from my grasp, Ichni¡¯s presence gone as if never existed. Panic coiled in my gut. Where had everyone fled? The darkness pressed close, heavier than any fear I had known. Even the horror of Dullahan¡¯s death-blade paled compared to this suffocating emptiness.

    A voice, small and childish, drifted through the gloom: ¡°Do you want to kill him?¡± It sounded like a younger version of myself, a ghost of innocence long lost. The words rattled me. My gaze darted into the ebony mist, but I saw nothing, only shifting shadows.

    ¡°Kill¡­ Dullahan?¡± I croaked. ¡°We don¡¯t need to. We nearly escaped.¡± Yet my insistence felt weak and hollow.

    ¡°A hero shouldn¡¯t have to flee.¡± A second voice, motherly and distant, like a lullaby strangled in its cradle. The void was rummaging through my past, dredging up old comfort and twisting it into accusation. ¡°He will never stop hunting you or the princess. He will never grow weary of your suffering.¡±

    ¡°Make him understand your pain,¡± commanded an old man¡¯s voice, stern and unyielding. ¡°Make him feel it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not that strong,¡± I whispered, each word cracking with self-doubt.

    Another presence spoke, harsh and steady as a seasoned soldier: ¡°You are stronger than you know. We¡¯ve seen it. All of us have.¡±

    More voices joined in a grim chorus, layered echoes pushing into my mind, urging me forward. Their sentiments weighed like chains of iron on my chest. I remembered once standing proud as a hero, before fate ground me into dust. Now I was battered and cornered, made insignificant by monsters and tyrants.

    ¡°You are more than they will admit,¡± the voices insisted, harsh yet comforting. ¡°They are weak for ever doubting you. He will steal all that you cherish. Will you let him?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said, voice a rasp of raw conviction. I refused to yield.

    ¡°Then give him reason to regret his blasphemy against the greatest Paladin who ever walked this earth,¡± they urged, voices weaving into an intoxicating, violent hymn.

    A sudden, tearing agony erupted in my chest, as if hooked talons carved runes into my flesh. I bent double, airless lungs heaving soundlessly, nerves screaming in protest. The pain felt like ritualistic torture, each slash of invisible claws engraving fury and vengeance into my bones. A branding pain burnt into my back, leaving me to shriek in terror.

    ¡°Give him¡­ retribution,¡± a voice commanded.

    My arms contorted, bones snapping and resetting at cruel angles. I shuddered, lost in searing anguish.

    ¡°Give him¡­ agony.¡±

    I retched black bile¡ªvile, stinking fluid pouring from a body I barely recognized.

    ¡°Give him¡­ despair.¡±

    My muscles tore and reknit, transforming under relentless, unseen force. Tightening beyond nature¡¯s limit, they pulsed with savage intent.

    ¡°Give. Him. Death.¡±

    I tried to scream again, but realized too late I had no mouth, no eyes¡ªjust raw awareness trapped in darkness. Smothered in despair, yet brimming with an infernal wrath, I sensed him clearly. Dullahan existed somewhere beyond this void, his cruelty a beacon I could trace without sight. To break him, to deliver every ounce of suffering he poured into me, would free me from this nightmare.

    I owed him pain. I owed him every shattered piece of my soul that he dared to mock.

    So I would give him everything.

    <hr>

    ¡ª Ichni ¡ª

    <hr>

    We were so close. I could almost feel the relief of crossing into safety. The ground beneath us had turned into a sodden path of churned soil and stagnant water, every step for Adrian a struggle through mud and debris. Ahead, the bridge stood as a faint promise of escape.

    In the distance, that infuriating archer¡ªSerah¡ªloosed arrow after arrow of freezing ice. Each time, Dullahan swung that hideous segmented blade to shatter the projectiles. Frost clung to his weapon¡¯s twisted segments, hindering its movement, if only slightly. Above, her old grandfather conjured lightning from some unknown vantage, each bolt forcing Dullahan to shift. It was a small advantage, but enough to buy us a moment to press forward.

    ¡°You can do it, Addy,¡± I said flatly, placing a trembling hand on Adrian¡¯s back as he hauled Quen¡¯s battered form behind us. Quen might be a volatile mess at times, but she was the first to charge to our aid when we were cornered. I owed her more than I could express in this hellish moment.

    But then I noticed Quen slipping from Adrian¡¯s hold, collapsing face-first into the filth. Rain pelted her broken armor, blood and muck smearing her wounds. She barely drew breath, yet Adrian let her drop as if discarding refuse.

    My heart tightened with fury. ¡°You murakka,¡± I hissed, spinning in front of Adrian to confront him. ¡°You¡¯re not leaving your ally behind, got it? Quen saved our sorry hides¡ª¡± My words cut short when I truly looked at Adrian¡¯s face. His eyes, once warm golden hues, were now red set against black sclera, darting in frantic patterns. I felt dread coil in my stomach.

    Without warning, his upper body twisted at an impossible angle, bones cracking in a nauseating chorus. My stomach lurched at the sight of his knees bending unnaturally, his entire frame rearranging itself with bone-deep snaps. He moved like a grotesque puppet guided by a vile hand.

    ¡°Adrian, you¡¯re hurting yourself! We have to¡ª¡± I began, only for him to seize my throat. The shock of it wrenched a choked gasp from me. As a spirit, I was untouchable to most, but now I felt his hand crushing not just my form, but my soul. A black, crystalline ooze encased his arm, pressing into my essence, as if to obliterate me entirely. His face was no longer human, encased in dark, bark-like growth, leaving only those hate-filled, agonized eyes.

    ¡°A-Adrian,¡± I managed, voice rasping, ¡°you¡¯re¡­ hurting me.¡± One of his feverish eyes snapped to focus on me.

    ¡°S¡­sorry,¡± a muffled voice emerged behind that black mask. In an instant, he released me, as well as my prized gemmed gauntlet sloughing off into the mud. As the black ichor returned to surround his hand, I saw it was bruised and broken, like a broken toy being wrapped as a sadistic gift. He then turned away, darting toward Dullahan with a jerking, spasmodic sprint.

    ¡°Adrian!¡± I screamed, voice trembling with shock and betrayal. He¡¯d nearly crushed me, then discarded me the next second. I stood there, shaken to my core. What the hell had he become?

    From where I stood, I saw the Aether Blade crackling near him, as if tainted by the horrors twisting his body. Adrian¡¯s spine erupted into sickly green flames, the sword shifting into something furious and vile. An emerald rune glowed against his flesh, its searing radiance filled with malice. This was the fel Element¡ªdemonic essence made physical, a force I¡¯d been warned about long ago. It turned heroic strength into predatory hate.

    A charred black chain emerged from Adrian¡¯s new demon flesh, barbed and vicious, topped by a spiked orb that radiated cruelty. He swung it, the effort shredding his own arm, blood spattering into the mire. He attacked Dullahan before the dreadknight could fully react. The chain-head punched a hole through Dullahan¡¯s chest in a burst of gore, and Adrian wrenched it sideways, ripping out flesh and armor in a hideous display that even forced Serah into shocked silence.

    I watched several of Adrian¡¯s fingers tumble off, his own body paying the price for this savage power. Horror and heartbreak seized me. ¡°ADRIAN, NO! STOP!¡± I howled, lurching forward to intervene. I tried to grab him, to restrain him, but with the gauntlet chaining my distance I stumbled uselessly into the mud, reliving that awful helplessness from the day of my own death. My efforts meant nothing against his monstrous fury.

    In the background, Serah attempted to freeze Adrian¡¯s foot to halt his frenzy. He simply mutilated himself further, hacking off his own limb to break free. The sight of him willingly dismembering himself to continue the slaughter twisted my stomach into knots.

    My scream tore from my throat: ¡°You fucking murakka, snap out of it! It¡¯s not worth dying¡ª¡± My voice cracked as I realized he was too far gone in this madness. Each wound he inflicted on himself only fueled his destructive rampage. He had become a nightmare given flesh.

    Quen, wounded but unbroken, dragged herself closer. Her voice was low and rough with pain: ¡°What in the bloody pit is that fool doin¡¯? He¡¯s lost ¡¯is damn mind.¡± She scooped up my gauntlet, clenching it between her teeth as she tried to stand. I hovered near her, frantic and sick at what I witnessed. ¡°He¡¯s using the fel Element for the sword,¡± I groaned, tears burning at my eyes. ¡°He¡¯s channelin¡¯ raw demon hatred, and it¡¯s ripping him apart!¡±

    Quen nodded, grim and determined. ¡°Then we yank ¡¯im back,¡± she said simply, voice trembling but resolute.

    ¡°C-can we?¡± I pleaded with uncertainty. ¡°N-no, we can. We have to. We will!¡±

    She forced herself into a stumbling run, ignoring her own agony. Together, we rushed Adrian as he and Dullahan tore into each other, flesh and metal, blood and sparks. Even Serah got clipped by their lethal dance.

    A sudden bolt of lightning struck Adrian, coursing through his mangled frame. Instead of collapsing, he forged onward, stitched together by rage and foul magic, trailing pieces of himself across the field.

    I wanted to vomit, to scream at him until my throat bled. I couldn¡¯t do any of those things, of course, but I knew I could save him from doing this. He promised me that we¡¯d see this through, together. I¡¯m not letting his fucking ego break that oath!

    Yet, I never imagined he¡¯d become something so appalling, so lost in pain and wrath. He looked hideous before, sure, but it was all in jest. Here, he was the monster he hated so much in the mirror.

    Quen lunged onto Adrian¡¯s back, forcing him off balance. He twisted and flailed, limbs contorting anew, shrieking in wordless fury. She fought to strip him of that horrid mask. With a guttural snarl, she ripped it free, shards of black resin flying. At that instant, Adrian gasped, his body collapsing as if freed from a terrible weight. The fel-driven weapon slumped back into its normal sword form, the flames sputtering out. Those red-on-black eyes faded to his normal gaze, filled now with shock and torment.

    Seeing his chance, Dullahan tried to rally for a killing blow, but Serah intervened with a barrage of ice, entombing part of the dreadknight¡¯s armor. Her own face twisted with pain, blood trickling from a wound on her side. ¡°Get that moron and run!¡± she yelled, voice ragged. ¡°He owes me more than a silver for this crap!¡±

    With Dullahan cursing us all, Quen and I dragged Adrian¡¯s maimed body away. I shot a final glance at Dullahan¡¯s face contorted in something akin to disgust and alarm. Let him remember this day. Let him remember who faced him down and survived. Quen stooped low, trembling hands gathering the fragments of Adrian¡¯s body scattered in the sludge. Her face was contorted with rage and sorrow, her breath ragged. I gritted my teeth, trying to steady myself. I refused to accept that this broken creature before me was the same partner who once guarded me so fiercely.

    ¡°Adrian, you¡¯re worth more than that! I can¡¯t believe you!¡± I hissed through clenched teeth, voice cracking with despair. ¡°You can¡¯t be sacrificing everything just because it felt right! You don¡¯t ever leave me behind like that, NEVER!¡± My voice wavered as I pressed my trembling fingers to what remained of his face, trying to anchor him to reality. His eyes were dull, unfocused, trapped in some private nightmare.

    He murmured, voice distant and hollow: ¡°Did he¡­ feel my¡­ pain¡­?¡±

    A violent shudder passed through me. I tightened my grip, furious and heartbroken. ¡°Not as much as I did, Addy. I felt every tremor of your agony. No more,¡± I managed, throat raw. ¡°No more pain. Not today.¡±

    I forced a pained frown, tears threatening but never falling, as we dragged what was left of my knight onward, step by agonizing step, fleeing a battlefield drenched in torment and cruel legacy. We carried his wounds and ours together, a grim burden toward uncertain refuge.

    <hr>

    ¡ª Adrian ¡ª

    <hr>

    Everything that followed fell like a twisted fever dream. I stumbled through a haze of memories as if I¡¯d gone on a drunken bender of raw power, and now I was nursing the mother of all hangovers. My body felt hollowed out, stuffed full of regrets and half-remembered horrors. The aftermath of my rampage weighed heavily on me, but I could barely hold a coherent thought long enough to measure my remorse.

    Ichni and Quen half-dragged, half-carried me across a sagging wooden bridge while Dullahan stood literally half frozen in the distance, hurling curses like rotten fruit at a festival. Quen took my sword¡ªthankfully not a hellish death chain¡ª and slashed at the bridge¡¯s ropes. Meanwhile, Ichni offered Dullahan her own eloquent farewell: a double display of raised fingers that needed no translation. The bridge groaned as the last of the supports were cut apart, then succumbed to the river¡¯s raging current, splitting away and leaving Dullahan stranded on the opposite bank. Good riddance, at least for now.

    Out of breath and pale with fury, Quen shoved me against a tree trunk, safe-ish from the rain¡¯s worst. She knelt beside me and began reassembling me like a butcher trying to reverse her trade. Each gooey lump of my flesh she pressed into place made my stomach churn. I didn¡¯t dare look too closely at where body parts were meant to go. I¡¯d had enough nightmares for one day, thanks.

    Ichni set to work, spitting webs over my¡­ pieces. Let¡¯s just say I never imagined being mummified in sticky threads of healing. Still, I was grateful for her patchwork. Considering what I¡¯d just done¡ªnearly shredding myself along with Dullahan¡ªI probably deserved to come out looking like some undead jigsaw puzzle. By now, the pain barely registered as pain. It was more like a distant alarm, one that had rung so long I¡¯d grown used to it. Maybe that¡¯s what kept me conscious, or maybe it was sheer stubbornness.

    Eventually, Quen collapsed, too spent to manage another breath, her iron will finally hitting its limit. I wanted to thank her, but my mouth refused to form words. Ichni wove the final strands of webbing around me and the tree, securing me upright like a grotesque scarecrow. At least I wouldn¡¯t topple over if I passed out.

    From somewhere across the river, Serah¡¯s voice called out, delivering some snarky message to Dullahan. Something about showers and rotten kingdoms. I tried to focus, but my vision swam. One second Serah was there, the next she vanished into the torrential waters. Typical. She came and went like a strange little thunderstorm, always making such a big fuss and then peacing out.

    As I swayed in and out of consciousness, details blurred. The rain eased, sunlight poking through ragged clouds. Dullahan pried himself free from ice and exhaustion, slumping on his side of the bank, licking his wounds in silence. Quen dozed nearby, sinking partway into the muddy grass. And Ichni¡ªIchni perched on my lap, of all places, as if daring me to snap again. She watched me with narrowed eyes, equal parts wary and concerned. When I managed a faint, apologetic smile, she huffed, cheeks coloring in frustration. But she stayed put, not retreating into the gauntlet.

    I caught snatches of her muttering. No doubt she planned a grand lecture for when I recovered. Strangely enough, I welcomed it. After everything, her anger and insults would be a comfort¡ªa reminder that we were alive, that life went on. And with that fragile hope nudging me, I let darkness pull me under, surrendering to the promise of rest.

 Chapter 21: No Honor Among Knights

    When I woke up, it wasn¡¯t the serene wake-up call I had hoped for. It felt like I had gone head-to-head with a family of porcupines in a sumo match¡ªevery prickly encounter leaving sharp pains in places I didn¡¯t even know existed. Honestly, if pain were a sport, I¡¯d have taken home the gold medal.

    Surveying my shattered form, I concluded without hesitation that I was a complete wreck. If I were a doctor from my old-old world, I¡¯d be lighting up a cigarette before jotting down the grim prognosis, taking a fat draw from it before I ran the list.

    My left pinky was completely gone, and part of my right ring finger was missing¡ªtalk about a manicure disaster. Thankfully, my severed leg was back in place, but a thick ring of scar tissue hinted I might now have the gait of a one-legged pirate. My arms barely moved, feeling like they had more freshly healed fractures than Shattermourne himself. A dull ache pulsed in my core, reminding me that a large portion of my digestive tract had decided to make a dramatic exit through my throat¡ªnecrosis never had such flair.

    I felt patched flaps of skin that once hung loose on my face, where the hardened ooze had dug into my skull. Quen, in all her genius, stopped me from plunging over the edge of no return by ripping the manifest of my rage off my face, leaving me looking like the victim of an industrial glue prank gone wrong.

    Still, despite feeling like a pro boxer¡¯s punching bag, I was alive¡ªmiraculously. I was teetering on the edge of undead status more than ever, but whether it was the rain keeping me from toppling over or Ichni¡¯s healing webs holding me together, I had somehow survived.

    Speaking of Ichni, she was still perched on my lap, half-asleep, which in her ghostly state meant she looked perpetually restless. When she sensed me stirring, she turned to face me with the solemnity of a widow seeing her beloved emerge from the coffin.

    ¡°Oh, thank the devils, you¡¯re alive,¡± she mumbled, scrutinizing my battered face. ¡°Where does it hurt? I¡¯ve been patching and adjusting your injuries since you passed out.¡± Her attempts to sound stern were endearing, like a ghostly nurse who missed their coffee break.

    ¡°Ugh¡­ if I had a body chart, it¡¯d be a coloring book. I¡¯m all sorts of a mess.¡± I admitted, shifting uneasily on my own weight. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Ichni. Thanks for keeping watch over me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, you mindless ghoul,¡± she declared, attempting to inject some insult into her tone. But her face betrayed her¡ªconcern was etched all over her spectral features. ¡°I don¡¯t know why or how you used those cursed arts, but you nearly killed yourself trying to show off. Khippa¡ªplease¡ªdon¡¯t do that again. Do you understand me? I know bossing you around like a princess won¡¯t get through to you, so I¡¯m asking as your royal tactician. As your friend, whatever it takes to make you see sense.¡± Her attempt at sass was cute, if a bit misplaced in this hellish aftermath. Her crimson hair ran along the length of her face as she looked at me expectantly, though it did not hide the worry in her face.

    ¡°Yeah. I promise,¡± I replied, feeling the gravity of her reprimand. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have let the voices get the better of me. It just felt, I don¡¯t know, intoxicating to finally go toe-to-toe with Dullahan.¡± My admission hung heavy in the air.

    ¡°Voices, what?¡± she responded, her tone devoid of mockery. ¡°Are you hearing things? I know you can talk to undead, but I don¡¯t think there were spirits around to convince you to go full suicide mode.¡± Her concern deepened, her earlier frustration melting into genuine worry.

    ¡°It was happening when one of those reversed bells tolled,¡± I explained. ¡°When it rang the second time¡ª¡± But Ichni cut me off.

    ¡°There was no bell, Adrian. I don¡¯t know why, but if you heard the bells of the Demon God¡¯s Cathedral that Dullahan mentioned, then you were being tampered with by someone at the castle. Maybe Father, or Onshi¡­ someone was trying to force you to take you and Dullahan out in one go.¡± Her words were laced with suspicion, piecing together the fragments of our harrowing ordeal.

    ¡°The Demon¡­ God?¡± I echoed, eyes wide and confused, unsure if I¡¯d heard her correctly. She nodded solemnly, but before I could delve deeper into her explanation, a guttural grunt emanated from my side. A hulking mass of green muscles began to shift upright beside us.

    ¡°Ugh, freakin¡¯ hell¡­¡± Quen groaned, finally managing a scowl. Lying on her side, she touched her bruised face and shot me a sharp look. ¡°Hey, Mr. Hero. Think ya got a little sidetracked back in the fight, ya moron. Next time ya go full psycho, I¡¯m torchin¡¯ ya back to your senses.¡± Her blunt reprimand cut through the tension, adding a touch of sarcasm to our dire situation.

    I gave a sheepish smile to my begrudging ally, who seemed torn between being impressed and utterly annoyed by my antics. ¡°Yeah, sorry about that. Didn¡¯t realize that using the fel Element was going to trigger a BDSM session with no safe words.¡± My attempt at humor was met with less than enthusiasm.

    ¡°A what? Damn it all, ya speakin¡¯ more nonsense again, ya damn loon,¡± she retorted, a chuckle escaping her despite the circumstances. ¡°Least you got some sense to apologize. Take that as my own little win.¡± Her retort was a brief respite from the pain, a flicker of normalcy in our bloody aftermath.

    ¡°Hey, you owe me like twenty apologies too, y¡¯know!¡± Ichni declared, grabbing my face with an indignant grip. ¡°And each one is going to cost interest until I get every single one!¡±

    ¡°Thank you for saving me, Ichni. I owe you more than apologies.¡± I replied with an earnest look at her. I heard her pleas when I entered berserker mode, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to face her then. I hated myself as much as I hated Dullahan at that moment, but in an act of sheer stupidity, I turned from the one person who always seemed to have my back.

    ¡°You mean the world to me, and I promise I won¡¯t leave you behind like that, ever again.¡± I re-equipped the gemmed gauntlet. The ruby gem flickered back to life, and the demon pupil inside seemed to blink in silent gratitude as it touched my hand.

    ¡°Thanks for believing in me, princess.¡±

    ¡°W-well, if that¡¯s all you can m-muster, I suppose that will have to do, then!¡± she stammered, her cheeks flushing a dark pink. ¡°Don¡¯t be spouting stupid stuff after our first big boss fight, though! I don¡¯t want it looking like I¡¯m at a funeral if I¡¯m going to get confessed to!¡±

    I blinked, understanding her frustration. Instead of correcting her, I let my sheepish grin do the talking. Her cheeks puffed up in response, a mix of embarrassment and residual concern.

    ¡°Ghoul n¡¯ a ghosty, sittin¡¯ in a tree¡­¡± Quen began chanting, a rare grin breaking through her tough exterior. I shot her an embarrassed look, and she chuckled before clutching her side in a mix of mirth and pain.

    Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly, relishing the sensation despite the agony. My heart felt like it had exploded, the pain almost unbearable, yet it was the reminder that I was still alive. I was drenched, battered, covered in mud and possibly my own piss, but I was still fucking alive.

    I turned to scan the river and caught sight of the menacing dreadknight doctor¡ªthe one who had tried to prescribe me a lethal dose of suffering. The rain had long ceased, and the clouds were parting to reveal the last fiery streaks of sunset, yet there he stood, an unholy figure amidst the fading light. Steam hissed off his battered body, remnants of the holy sprinkle that had tormented him earlier.

    Despite his own grim appearance, he remained eerily calm. He wasn¡¯t glaring or cursing, nor showing any signs of his murderous intent. Instead, he wore a stoic expression, cold and collected, observing my every move with unnerving stillness.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Then he attacked with Shattermourne. I flinched and curled as the whip-like blade swung ominously across the river, barely grazing the opposite bank. He swung again, and again, as if testing the sheer length of his reach, forcing me to recoil each time. He began shouting with a gaze of pure desperation, as though he too couldn¡¯t believe we had managed to escape him once more.

    When he finally paused, I saw neat gouges in the mud, several meters away from my legs but frustratingly out of reach. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, as though still hoping to land a decisive blow despite his compromised position.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to move soon, Adrian,¡± Ichni said, her eyes swollen with lingering shock. It was clear she was reeling from the turn of events, but her tactical mind snapped into action. ¡°We may have stalled him, but he''ll hunt us day and night if we stay here.¡±

    I spat the remaining blood from my throat, refusing to move. My body screamed for rest, and I was damn ready to collapse again right where I stood. Yet, Ichni nudged me persistently, like a stubborn cat demanding breakfast, and I began to stir reluctantly.

    ¡°Nay, princess. Tend to their wounds. I¡¯ve been soundly, and utterly, defeated,¡± came a soft, yet cracked voice. It was Dullahan.

    ¡°So I was right? You can¡¯t cross this river? I had completely guessed, but I wasn¡¯t sure! Ahahaha! Well, it¡¯s a good thing I¡¯m so smart then, huh Addy?¡± Ichni admitted, shrugging snarkily at her risky gamble.

    I was ready to chuck the gauntlet over the river at these words. ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s true, Dullahan? Can¡¯t jump, swim, or¡­?¡± I stammered, wanting to confirm this bizarre truth. Asking a villain who wants me dead if I was safe felt as awkward as questioning an alcoholic about their last drink.

    He drove his unholy greatsword into the ground, a reluctant concession. ¡°Not only that, I am proficiently cursed to not be able to touch or cross running water. My true weakness, as it were. Oh, the humility.¡± His words dripped with sarcasm, mocking his own defeat.

    ¡°Not even a lil shower, huh¡­¡± Quen finally stammered, pointing a finger at the Lieutenant. ¡°Bet ya could peel the paint off an outhouse without breakin¡¯ a sweat.¡±

    ¡°Mein teufel, Quen, he just lost a fight to a creek!¡± Ichni chided, a smirk playing on her spectral lips as she eyed Quen¡¯s half-hearted insult.

    ¡°Alas, even if I were to head into town and grab a harpy to fly over, you three would be long gone by then. Right?¡± Dullahan said with a straight face. We hesitated. ¡°Right?¡± He repeated, clearly expecting us to acknowledge that his master plan was as foolproof as a chocolate teapot.

    ¡°Uh, right!¡± I responded, forcing a confident smile that wobbled like the rabbit slime¡¯s ears. ¡°Thick into the unknown!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d have to search every nook and cranny of this realm to catch us!¡± Ichni added, her conviction wavering like a candle trying to stay visible on a windy night.

    ¡°I know more hideouts n¡¯ caves than you¡¯ll ever know about,¡± Quen added, her voice hardening as I appreciated her signature moment of seriousness. She winced as a wave of pain washed over her but quickly straightened her face. ¡°Ya¡¯d spend more time wanderin¡¯ holes than I did with yer mother.¡± Her insult was sharp, earning her a reproachful look from Dullahan.

    ¡°I am going to burn your shop to the ground, blacksmith. I will make sure every scrap of iron there is used to build a coffin for the two of you, and I will bury you alive in it to let it sink into this very river.¡± Dullahan said, equally as serious. I shivered, but Quen and Ichni must have been used to these idle threats.

    ¡°Regardless, you cowardly Paladin, you¡¯ve beaten me fair and square. I would have used every dirty trick in the book to defeat you, so I don¡¯t detest you for your¡­ tactics. Taking advantage of my curse though¡­¡± Dullahan gripped his side, eyes darting away as if avoiding an awkward compliment. ¡°That will irk me until we meet again. I¡¯ve found myself a worthy opponent.¡± His declaration was both a taunt and a grudging acknowledgment of our unexpected resilience.

    ¡°Her highness spoke very brazen of you, but I still can¡¯t get a read on you,¡± I suddenly blurted. ¡°One moment you¡¯re a hot mess, the next you¡¯re a cold-blooded serial killer, and now I see something akin to a caged lion trying to act civil while its prey lurks just out of reach. What the hell is wrong with you? Were you always cursed like this?¡± My frustration spilled out, laced with both confusion and exasperation.

    He turned to me, and for once, I didn¡¯t feel fear. There was a very human look in his eyes, his mouth partially open as if searching for the right words. It was like he wanted to say something profound, but whether it was pride, loyalty, or his very nature, he held back, unwilling to betray his lack of humanity.

    ¡°My curse has survived me longer than time memorial,¡± he finally answered, his words layered with hidden meaning. I sensed he wanted to elaborate, but he shook his head. ¡°It is no matter. My love for His Majesty will compel me after a quick break for the Headless Ham & Cheese bagel sandwich!¡±

    He declared, flicking what remained of his cape. With a swift motion, he pulled the hilt away from his dirt-embedded sword, causing the blade to collapse into a flurry of magic dust. As he did so, he let out a genuine, hearty belly laugh, facing the road ahead with a mix of frustration and amusement.

    ¡°To think, your gods would make mockery of this fateful day. Rejoice! The day is yours, my newfound rival,¡± he proclaimed with a sigh. Suddenly, the sun began to rise over the city, bathing everything in a beautiful gold-lit morning. Did the world seriously skip night time?

    Ichni sprang back into the conversation before Dullahan could make his dramatic departure. ¡°We¡¯re going to keep fighting, Dullahan. We¡¯re going to get stronger, and one day we won¡¯t run.¡±

    ¡°I pray for that day to come sooner than any other,¡± he responded, his voice tepid yet convincing.

    ¡°Wh-what?!¡± Ichni stuttered, bewildered that her heroic declaration was being acknowledged by our mortal foe.

    A brown pouch was flung into the air as Dullahan thrust something towards us, and the bag landed by my side. That fucker could reach us!

    ¡°Here. A prize for your resonant victory,¡± he said, casting a side-eye glance. A black jewel glinted ominously from the pouch as Ichni and I peeked at it.

    ¡°... WHAT? Adrian, take that!¡± Ichni ordered frantically.

    ¡°Wait, are you sure? I might be a trap!¡± I retorted. It was an evil-looking gem, eerily similar to the one in his sword! Maybe it steals souls, or curses someone to defecate uncontrollably, or¡ª

    ¡°The princess will know what to do with that demon heart,¡± Dullahan assured us. Quen examined the treasure, grunted dismissively, and rolled onto her back.

    ¡°Where did you find this?¡± Ichni asked, her eyes still fixed on the ominous crystal.

    ¡°In the royal archives, the guards were quite distracted when you were fleeing the captain, you see,¡± Dullahan proudly declared as he began walking away. While it meant nothing to me, Ichni struggled with her words, her expression a mix of confusion and regret.

    ¡°You got this, for me?¡± she finally asked, but Dullahan ignored her. She repeated herself, and still he offered no response.

    ¡°Why, why now, of all times, you stupid jerk!¡± she finally bellowed, but he quietly continued on his way. After a moment, though, he paused and turned back towards me. His mouth moved, and though he was at a distance where I shouldn¡¯t have heard him, his words whispered into my ears like a cold wind.

    ¡°Adrian¡­ if I may call you that,¡± he mumbled softly. ¡°Protect her with your life. Follow your oath. She is everything.¡±

    ¡°What? What is he saying?¡± Ichni exclaimed in desperation. ¡°What are you saying?!¡± She screamed, tears streaming down her face, but he was soon out of sight, a lone speck of dust in an ocean of gray and black¡ªa field now a graveyard of every plant that once thrived.

    While his side of the river was nothing but death and despair, I realized that our side was alive and well. We were battered, torn, and bruised, but once again, we were alive. We had hope and an adventure still ahead of us. It wasn¡¯t over just yet.

    His words still lingered in my mind as I tried to calm the ranting Ichni, who was cussing up a storm. Quen rolled over as though she was trying to sleep against a snoring husband. I couldn¡¯t help but smirk, proud that I had managed to stick it out with such a ragtag band.

    Protect her with your life. Follow your oath.

    ¡°I will. Guess I should still stick with the Oath of Protection, then,¡± I finally replied, and succumbed to exhaustion, passing out against the tree.

    ¡°Oh come on, you just woke up, you murakka~!¡± Ichni wailed, trying to shake me awake, but to no avail. This no-good princess will just have to wait.

 Extra Chapter: The Day I Became a Hero

    Legends said that divine power had sealed the mighty greatword Chandrabolg in place for a chosen hero to draw it, but it was clear that the weight and length was the real challenge.

    I had watched a good few Holy Knights try prying it from its resting place, many of whom were my seniors. One Master-Class Paladin, the second highest in ranking for our kind, had tried with every expectation that it would happen. According to my master, this Paladin would either have pulled Chandrabolg out, or ripped the stone holding it out of the ground with it. Yet when his moment came, he couldn¡¯t shake it loose. A half hour of struggling, grunts of effort, and eventually cursed shouting came and went as the Master-Class could not lift the thing to save his life.

    When he eventually gave up, or rather my master told him to stop trying to snap the thing in two, it was my turn. I stood there the entire time and studied how my fellow Paladin had gripped the hilt, hoisted with his legs, and gave it everything he had, but there was something that bothered me.

    Chandrabolg was placed blade down into the stone, but ever so slightly, it was leaned back in angle. It became clear that since the blade was too tall for your average human, almost unwieldy, most people would use their legs and back to try to pry it out like they were ripping an errant tree stump out. In doing so, they pressed the end of the blade buried beneath further against the stone, making it even harder to budge.

    So when I took a stone platform to stand on, leaned forward, and drew it out in one go, you could imagine how upset people were at the sight.

    ¡°He used foul methods to pull the blade, look how he posed as he drew it, almost ghoulish in nature!¡±

    ¡°He did not use any oaths or prayers to draw it!¡±

    ¡°The Master-Class did all the work, how can this whelp be called a hero after riding on his back to success?¡±

    The sneers and jeers were my applause as I held the greatsword up high. I didn¡¯t mind, though. They were the witnesses to a great day, even if they didn¡¯t accept it yet. My teacher, however, was just as jubilant as I was.

    ¡°All of you, praise be this glorious moment,¡± he started. ¡°And yet I see nothing but scowls and mutters. Since when did we tear down our allies for the sake of pride?¡±

    The grumbles went from an uproar to murmurs, like a sputtering batch of children still unable to contain themselves with a scolding gone sour. As I stepped off the stone platform and tested the weight of the blade, heavier than anything I imagine, my teacher continued.

    ¡°The fifth chapter of our Holy Scriptures reads as follows. ¡®We raise our friends onto shoulders, and those seeking penance to knees¡¯,¡± as he went on, others, including myself, vocalized with him. Some were less enthusiastic than others, however.

    ¡°Cherish every triumph, and harbor any sorrow. We seek not the destruction of others, but rather the continued creation of our fortunes.¡± we said in unison.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± my teacher finished. ¡°We cannot blame Adrian for his triumph, or tear down those who have fortune. This is a day to celebrate. This is the day the Holy Knights turn a holy relic into a symbol of hope. Chandrabolg has risen once more.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°But master,¡± a younger Holy Knight chimed. ¡°Chandrabolg can only be drawn when evil arises and a hero is needed! We¡¯ve no enemies at this time, does this mean the prophecy is false?¡±

    ¡°Enemies? Evil?¡± Teacher scoffed at each word. I looked to him as he weighed each title, and a saddened look had flashed over his face for only a moment before returning to his stoic pose. The age was well worn on his face from years of service. He didn¡¯t have much time left in his life to crusade, let alone preach to his students.

    ¡°Evil lurks in the heart of every man and woman, suppressed and casted out with every hope they get. Enemies¡­ enemies are the people that cannot stand to reason or hope. This sword will bear both to witness. The Holy Knights, and especially our Paladins,¡± he added ruefully, looking at the young man. ¡°Will be uniform under a legendary relic that is said to master the power of Aether itself.¡±

    Aether, the fifth element, is the power that this shrine has long since represented in sacred duty. While Fire, Water, Air and Earth were the elements that claimed balance in the world, Aether has always been the element Paladin strived to tame. It is the element of both balance, and ascension. The power to call from light above, and further still. Wielding Aether as an element is akin to touching the hem of the divine, and even harnessing the smallest amount is what separates the Paladins from Holy Knights. Paladins can wield Aether, Holy Knights cannot. The distinction is what offers people like myself the ability to heal wounds, and cast down divine smites on my foes. All Holy Knights strive to become Paladins in this regard.

    As I raised Chandrabolg to the ceiling of the shrine, assuming the Lion¡¯s Humility stance. I felt the sword begin channeling its own mana from my own. The blade began to glow with a golden hue, the soft light brightening the Holy Knights around me. As they gazed into the light, they felt comfort and warmth. Some closed their eyes in relief, while others stared on in wonder. While some held dubious expressions, many faces held something different.

    It was, as the teacher surmised, a look of hope. Of a future untold that holds prosperous riches for our people.

    ¡°And there you have it. The sword has clearly accepted him as its wielder.¡± The teacher finished. Many nodded as others continued to stare. I was among them, mere inches from the blade as I saw my own face.

    The center of the blade was a soft bevel to meet the two edges, and I was startled with what I saw. On one side, I saw myself, confident and proud, with my chin raised as I had myself now, but on the other side¡­

    Anger, despair. My face remained contorted as though I was in agony, in complete contrast to the other side. I focused in horror as I saw my uglier side writhe in spite of my stillness. This can¡¯t be me, I thought. It was looking right at me, it¡¯s face graying and skin ripping from invisible seams¡­

    And it was smiling, a mischievous and devilish smile. Like it was the only other person that knew a secret I dared not share.

    I closed my eyes. I felt both sides of my reflection boring into my face, as if waiting for me to peek back once more. I couldn¡¯t look at myself like this, no matter the reason. Why would Chandrabolg, the legendary holy blade, reflect my face like this? Was it revealing the dark echelons of my soul to me to witness, to remind me that my body is not pure? I strive for my best, I have given everything for this. Surely, it wouldn¡¯t reject me here?

    The blade didn¡¯t reject me, though. It stayed in my hands, still glowing with the comfort and warmth as it had moments before. I couldn¡¯t comprehend the meaning behind all of this, but in the end, it stayed by my side. I would be a Paladin.

    My grip on it remained iron tight. It was our new symbol of hope, after all, and I hope I can be the one that stood at its equal.

 Authors Note

    When I first began to think of this story, it was one of those silly talks that began with one of my best friends, Brandon. I never thought it would be a light novel, of course, yet here I am, sitting at my computer, and looking at a finished rough draft of it.

    It started as an idea for passing talk, but it somehow scraped itself into the basis for a video game him and I wanted to make, eventually called ¡°Project: Aetherfel¡±. It was about a hero that died miserably, was given a second chance, and was sent on a bizarre and wild adventure with an unruly ghost princess where he met strange companions and even stranger foes. My friend and I started a greenhorn gaming studio sometime in 2023, I went from story writer to programmer, and like most fleeting fancies, it fell apart and was postponed indefinitely.

    While the game never reached completion, far from it, I had written hundreds of pages for the story and lore that would make the backbone of Aetherfel. A year later, I felt a crippling guilt that all my work, my experience, had gone to complete waste. While I was able to shift my programming experience to make a game called ¡°GachaPon!¡± some months later, ¡°Aetherfel¡± was as dead as Adrian was when he met Guidance Guy. It gnawed at me that, while I finally did something unthinkable to me, complete a project I started like the cutesy puzzle game I developed, the crowning jewel of a non-existent RPG laid dormant and gathering dust.

    So, I wrote. I didn¡¯t know what I wanted to happen, only that I knew that between the story bible I made for the game and my years playing both sides of the table of D&D, I wanted to bring Aetherfel to life. As you can see, I completed the first milestone of that journey. Yay, me!

    It felt nice that I had a giant document that had already laid out what I wanted from the story, and helped give me a chance to give a second breath of life into details that may have never entered the game. The benches, as an example, was the location that Adrian could rest, heal, and talk with Ichni in between levels of monsters and puzzles.

    In the book, I added characters that didn¡¯t make the original cut for the game, like Serah, who could build the lore and help maintain a world that continues to exist outside of our plucky ghoul knight¡¯s bubble. While it was in my nature for the player to understand most of what was happening around them while maintaining some mystique, the reader now can enjoy the narrower perspective of the hero and leave details left in their imagination. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    A reader¡¯s imagination, far more powerful than any programming know-how I had, is priceless to me. It allows words unsaid to be interpreted how they wished, not something a dozen strings of codes can easily accomplish for an amateur GameDev like myself. It¡¯s a level of trust between me, the author, and the reader that there¡¯s so much to ask, and only so much to answer, but the ride will be fun and funny all the same until things get figured out.

    With inspirations from other isekai genre titles like Mushoku Tensei, Konosuba, and The Beginning After the End, I knew that writing about a reverse-isekai (or double-isekai, I wouldn¡¯t even know how to describe that) would be a challenge in its own right. In the end, though, I had asked myself, ¡°well, would it be fun or funny?¡± and the answer was, ¡°one hundred percent, yes!¡±.

    My wife and kids are sleeping right now, but I know when I see them again it¡¯ll be a hectic day for me as a dad wrangling a couple of three-year-old rambunctious sons. Perhaps that¡¯s why I felt so comfortable writing about a character who dealt with something unthinkable and still managed to roll with the tides. Obviously not to his level, haha, but you can imagine as a parent the cycle of working hard, going to bed dead tired, only to wake up to tackle what wild shenanigans awaits me once more.

    Anyways, I just wanted to thank you. Like I said, I¡¯m counting on you to enjoy yourself reading this book, and I¡¯m counting on myself to get this into something awesome for you to enjoy, as well as the next one. I can¡¯t be quite certain how long the story will go, as all good adventurers never rest. What I can be certain of is that I hope you¡¯ll stick with me, Adrian, Princess Ichni and many more as we see what silly adventures take them next.

    Thank you for reading this book, and I¡¯ll forever be indebted to you for giving me the chance to finish what I started.

    Gratefully yours,

    Tyler Vittitow,

    better known by my pen name, TwoTimesTyler.