A couple of kilometers from the village of Buena. Forest.
"M-m~"
A girl walked along the road with a light step, not thinking about anything and humming a small tune to herself.
In her hands she carried a woven basket, and inside were dark glass bottles. With every movement they knocked unevenly against each other.
As she walked, she didn't notice how eyes glimmered in the grass, under roots, and between branches. Watching her every step.
Crack.
A broad foot crushed a dry twig, the sound breaking the calm silence, and the girl turned sharply.
A second later she was already running.
Behind her moved a figure. Tall, dressed in dark clothing. At first it took a step, then sped up a bit, and finally shifted into a run. The pounding of feet on the ground grew heavier, faster, the sound closing in.
The girl heard a hand reaching forward behind her. It didn't take long for the figure to catch up.
"No!" the girl shouted.
But hands were already on her. One grabbed her waist, the other her shoulder, throwing her down into the grass.
Her scream was cut off. A second of silence, then a sob, and immediately an irritated voice:
"Idiot! I've got wine!"
"Sorry… sorry… just couldn't resist…" His voice was warm. He leaned closer to her.
He lightly bit her earlobe, making her flinch, then laugh.
His hand slid under her skirt with a motion long past any shyness or restraint.
"Enough!" She pushed his chest with her palm as she got up, straightening her hem. "Not right away. I brought so much…"
He sat beside her, leaning back a little, watching as she laid out the basket's contents on the grass. Cloth, bread, several slices of meat wrapped in paper.
His eyes widened when he saw the bottle.
"This is Recilotto!" He grabbed it as if afraid it might vanish. "Milords drink this! Where did you get it?"
His face showed a mix of reverence and greedy curiosity, like someone who'd only held something expensive a few times, and even then from afar.
A smug smile immediately appeared on the girl's face:
"Lady Zenith gave it to me," she said with a smile. Pride colored her voice. Then she narrowed her eyes. "And how do you know what it is?"
He pretended to cough. Turned his head. Tried to look serious.
"I was in the capital… on important business. Heard people praising it. It stuck with me." He tried to play the expert but felt himself overdoing it.
"Pff… like they'd let a swineherd in anywhere!" The girl spoke with her usual homely sharpness.
"Hey! I may be a swineherd, but I've got ears too!"
"Exactly. You've got ears, but no brains."
"And yet I listened to smart people!" The man tried to look confident, though his voice revealed resentment and the urge to prove something.
"I won't believe you unless you tell me who it was…"
"Uuuh… Duke Boreas!" He said it with desperate hope, believing that a loud voice might convince her.
"Yeah… sure…"
"Really?.. "
She laughed, ran her hand along his shoulder. Leaned closer, holding his gaze.
Smack! A second later her palm slapped his cheek.
"Catch me if you can!"
Laughing, she ran off, holding up her dress.
The man smiled and got up slowly.
Crack!
A twig snapped to the side, and the man turned.
"Huh? Wha—" Thud!
The sound never left his mouth.
Meanwhile, the unaware girl kept laughing quietly, crouching lower as she hid behind a rock. Her laughter didn't fade, breaking through her breath, a tear shimmering in her eye, but she tried to stay quiet, waiting for him to find her.
Crack.
A crack sounded nearby, and the girl froze, her laughter cut off mid-breath. She covered her mouth with her hands to stifle it.
A sound came again from the left.
It took another step.
CRACK!
Very close.
The foliage sharply shifted, and something squeezed through it.
She flinched and slowly turned, rising slightly on her toes, peeking out from behind the boulder.
Her heart stopped.
"H-eEe-y… YoU WaItiiingg-ffFoR meee?!"
It stood a few steps away. Its voice was cracked, harsh, speech forced and uneven.
As tall as a human, but everything about it was wrong. Skin brown, coarse, stretched over bone. A long nose, lips pulled into a grin showing rotten sharp teeth dripping with saliva.
Fingers long, stained red. Drops fell from their tips. Blood?
"A-A-A!"
The girl screamed. Her body jerked, her legs caught on roots, her hands shot forward. She ran wherever she could.
Laughter burst behind her.
"HA-HA-HA!"
A guttural, gurgling laugh came from the creature as it slowly followed.
"TOM! TOM! HELP ME! SOMEBODY!"
The girl screamed for help and kept running.
THUD!
Something shot past her, the rush of air knocking her from her frail legs. A dull impact followed, a tree shuddered. She whipped her head toward where it hit.
"N-no. This… NO!"
Warm liquid splattered across her face, running down her neck and lower, soaking her clothes in dirt and blood.
She looked down at her hands. Her fingers were black-red.
In front of her lay a torn body. Everything inside was outside, like a broken doll.
Slam!
The monster landed beside her, hitting the ground with its full weight. Its chest trembled from the impact. It straightened in one motion.
A massive body, broad shoulders. Rough arms with cracked skin. In its right hand it held something tightly.
It lifted its hand. A head dangled from its fingers. Hair tangled, eyes open, unmoving.
"Youuu DrOoopp-DrOPped? HeERE!"
The girl's throat tightened, her stomach twisted. The creature stepped closer.
"NO!"
She tried to get up.
Rrrrriiiip!
Her clothes tore apart.
"PLEas—"
The blow hit her jaw. Her head snapped to the side, teeth flew out and vanished into the grass, leaving a thin trail of blood. Her body fell, twitched a few times, then stilled.
"LOoOUd!"
The creature ran its hand over its face. Fingers smeared blood across its cheek. Chomp. Crunch. It tore off part of Tom's face from the severed head still in its hand. Then it turned.
In the shadows between bushes, something moved. One stepped out slowly, head lowered. A second followed. Then a third.
They came one by one, from different places.
When the last one stepped onto the open ground, everything fell silent.
***
Greyrat House.
A wooden table stood in the center of the kitchen, faint knife scratches left on it by rough hands. A plate with half-eaten stew, an empty mug, and a stain from spilled wine were also there.
Zenith lazily traced her finger along the rim of the mug. Paul sat beside her, and a little further away Lilia.
"Is it just me, or did someone leave a stain on the table?" Zenith said thoughtfully.
Paul looked at the stain, then at Zenith, then at the stain again.
"It… it's an artistic stain. Gives the table character."
"The character of an alcoholic?"
Paul smirked, rubbing his chin as he searched for a worthy answer.
"No. The character of a warrior. See?" He poked the stain with his finger. "Traces of battle. Traces of great decisions. Real history!"
Zenith snorted, leaning back in her chair.
"A history of someone spilling wine and being too lazy to wipe it?"
"It was… strategic negligence. I was testing how the wood absorbs liquids. In case of a siege."
"A siege of the kitchen?"
Lilia watched them silently, her hands folded on her lap. Not a hint of a smile, only a slight, nearly invisible upward glance, like someone counting the seconds until the play ends.
"Why are you always picking on me?! Maybe it's your stew's fault!" Paul threw up his hands indignantly.
"Oh yes, it's called 'Drunken Stew.' Yet somehow you're the only one leaving stains after it." Zenith nodded, leaning back. "Maybe you just struggle to eat without a weapon."
"What?"
"You always have a sword on you. Maybe a spoon is too delicate an instrument for you?" Zenith smirked. "Lilia, tomorrow we'll feed him off a wooden shield."
"A perfectly practical solution," Lilia added dryly.
"A conspiracy against me in my own home…" Paul muttered.
An ordinary day, nothing hinting at trouble. Then the door opened, drawing attention.
"Who— Ah, it's you, Laws," Paul turned, grinning. "Thought spirits had finally come for my restless soul."
"If spirits decided to come for you, I'd stop them," Laws replied calmly as he stepped inside.
"Really?" Paul narrowed his eyes. "So you do value me?"
"No. I just don't want them to suffer."
Paul snorted, and Laws dipped his head in greeting.
"Here for tea?" Paul was still grinning.
"No." Laws' face remained serious. "Two people from our village are missing."
Paul stopped smiling. Lilia tensed slightly, and Zenith stopped tracing the rim of her mug.
"Where?" Paul frowned.
"I went around the outskirts and found signs of a struggle. Blood on the rocks, bits of belongings… And something else."
"What?" Zenith's voice sharpened.
"Goblins."
Paul grimaced. Zenith straightened. Lilia furrowed her brows slightly but said nothing.
"Good old goblin boys… And what are they even doing here? Came from the wild lands?" Paul was already rolling his shoulders.
"Possibly," Laws sighed. "Either way, as village guardians, we need to deal with it. Get ready."
"Yeah… yeah…"
Rising from the table, Paul began loosening his arms.
"Then I'm going too," Zenith said suddenly.
Paul turned to her in surprise.
"Seriously? What for?"
"It's been a while since I killed anyone… Why not refresh my memory?" Zenith finished the wine and stood. "What? You against it?"
"Well then, let's see if your hand's gotten rusty," Paul smirked.
"We'll check on the spot."
***
A brown-skinned goblin, short, with thick tangled fur, crept around the area.
In one hand he held a small bow, and a quiver of crooked arrows hung on his back. His ear twitched—he barely caught a sound and began to turn his head.
But it was already too late.
A clean cut sliced through his throat, and thick blood poured from the torn flesh.
The goblin gurgled, clutching at the wound with shaking fingers, but life was already slipping away. His knees buckled, and his body collapsed into the grass, staining it with dark blood.
Third.
With soundless steps, Laws moved forward, hiding behind a tree.
Ahead, near a small cave, several creatures shuffled about. All shades of brown, consumed by whatever they were doing, unaware they were being watched.
Their bodies were wrapped in hides, and their eyes gleamed with wild light. Laws waited patiently, concealed.
On a spit, meat roasted cheerfully. Big chunks hanging down, dripping juice onto the fire.
Human. Probably the missing ones.
A goblin turned toward the cave, noticing nothing.
Laws tightened his grip on his sword. Aura flared inside his body, heating his muscles and speeding his reactions. He instantly felt strength fill him.
One step—and the distance shrank.
A second step—and his body was already moving like a living weapon.
The energy from his aura merged into each motion, accelerating him. The sword in his hand flashed, slicing into flesh with no chance for defense.
An instant—and the goblin's body collapsed, never understanding what happened.
"Khh!"
The noise drew the attention of two others. They jumped up, trying to dodge to the sides, but their movements were far too slow. Their heads rolled.
"Ha-ha..." Paul chuckled lightly, standing behind them, his sword covered in blood.
"That was quick," Laws said, not slowing as he approached the cave. "Now let's see what's insi—"
He didn't finish.
A sharp lunge to the side—and a massive club smashed into the ground where he'd just stood, the impact deafening.
"Ignis Sacrum."
Mystic words broke through the air, and a golden flame arrow formed, shooting toward the goblin. Zenith, standing at a distance, watched the situation calmly, eyes focused.
The arrow missed the goblin by only a few centimeters—but that was enough to shift his attention.
At the same moment he turned, another goblin stepped out of the cave—right into the flaming arrow's path. It pierced his chest, and his body instantly became a blazing torch.
"KHA-KHA-KHA!!!" the goblin screamed, rolling on the ground, but it did nothing.
A foul smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Laws moved without hesitation, lunging to sever the goblin's arm—but the blade met a shield that flared with runes.
At the moment of impact, his sword bounced away, giving Laws only a brief pause. But it also opened a window for another strike.
"Ignis Sacrum."
Zenith didn't hesitate.
Her voice cut the air again, and a second golden flame arrow shot toward the goblin.
He screamed, but the fire was already consuming him.
Without giving a chance for retaliation, Paul rushed forward, delivering a decisive thrust. His sword quickly and cleanly sliced through the thick neck, severing the head in one strike.
The goblin's body fell to the ground, spreading not only the smell of burnt flesh but also silence. No enemies remained.
Catching his breath, Laws glanced at Zenith, then at Paul.
"Clear," he said, moving toward the cave.
Inside, the stench was revolting.
The smell of urine, filth, and the burning golden-lit body mixed into an unforgettable stench. The cave was small, only a couple meters deep, clearly not meant for long-term shelter.
"They're not here to stay. Just a camp."
Paul looked at Laws and smirked.
"What, were you expecting something more… hospitable?"
Zenith stood silently at the entrance, making sure nothing approached from behind.
In the back of the cave, at the very end, sat a girl.
Her skin was bruised, her lips split, her hair tangled and matted with something dark.
Her eyes—once perhaps bright—were now empty, glassy. She stared straight at them, but didn't see.
It was clear to everyone: she couldn't be saved. She was broken, and not only physically. Her mind had long since failed.
Paul stepped forward slowly, without sudden movements.
The girl didn't react. Only her eyes twitched slightly, trying to focus before going dull again.
Paul crouched at arm's length, extending a hand toward her. But he didn't touch her, stopping a meter away.
"Hey," he said softly. "We'll take you with us. It's alright."
No reaction. As if he wasn't there.
Paul turned his head, casting a quick glance at Zenith and Laws.
They stood tense, silent, holding their breath.
Paul lowered his hand. His face hardened with the understanding that for the girl, this was the end.
"You know it. She's beyond saving," Zenith said quietly, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. "It'll be kinder to give her death."
Paul nodded silently.
He felt the weight of the moment, but emotion stayed aside. Quickly, without unnecessary words, he drew his blade. In a flash his arm moved toward her heart. A clean, swift strike, without hesitation or mercy.
The girl's body didn't even flinch—only a faint tremor passed through her at the final moment life left her.
"Ze…nith…" came a barely audible whisper from her.
Paul jerked slightly, turning his head toward her. A silent question filled his eyes.
"She said your name," he said quietly. "Who is she?"
Zenith slowly turned her head. It seemed she looked toward the girl, her eyes widening just a little, fingers curling into a fist.
"Oh no…"
"What? What is it? You know her?"
"The smell… sharp, familiar… Recillotto."
"..."
"..."
Laws and Paul fell silent at once, realizing she hadn't even looked at the girl's face. And indeed—Zenith's gaze was slightly to the side, fixed on a shattered bottle of wine lying among dirt and dried blood.
Zenith wrinkled her nose slightly at the spoiled product, raising her brow as she evaluated the stain.
"Such good wine… wasted…"
She spoke with genuine sadness.
"The girl?" She gave a slight shrug. "No idea who she is…"
Paul looked like he wanted to say something, but only exhaled and turned away.
Zenith raised a hand, her expression distant.
She recited:
"O Domine, Creator Caeli et Terrae, Sancte Millis, suscipe hanc animam in Tua luce. Concede ei pacem, quae in vita ei negata fuit."
(Oh Lord, Creator of Heaven and Earth, Saint Millis, receive this soul into Your light. Grant her the peace denied to her in life.)
Her voice was calm, a memorized prayer.
Only then did Zenith speak sharply, with precision:
"Ignis Sacrum."
The words of the spell left her lips, and the girl's body burst into bright golden flames instantly.
After the body crumbled into embers, silence settled over the cave. Paul ran a hand over his face, exhaling dully, and let his gaze linger for a moment on the charred bones.
Laws silently examined the cave walls. Then he crouched down and reached toward the ground.
"Alright. Hell of a day. Anything else in here?" Paul threw out.
Laws moved over to the corpse of the largest goblin, touched its scorched chest, and pulled a broad shield out from under the body.
"An artifact," he said quietly as he examined it.
Paul raised an eyebrow.
"Did they drag it here themselves, or did someone give it to them?"
"No idea, but this one was definitely their leader," Zenith added, looking at the mace handle clutched in the dead goblin's clawed hand.
Paul stepped over and, without wasting time, grabbed the shield. He turned it in his hands, feeling over every curve.
"Where'd these bare-assed things get something like this?" he snorted, his annoyance obvious. "Maybe we shouldn't have burned them. Could've asked."
Laws gave a dry chuckle:
"Yeah. 'How would you rate your defeat? How many artifacts did you have in storage? Answer before you crumble into dust.' Ha-ha-ha!"
"..."
"..."
Laws suddenly burst out laughing at his own joke. Zenith shot him a sideways glance, while Paul seemed long accustomed to his friend's strange behavior.
"Heavy. Maybe we sell it?" Paul nodded, weighing the shield thoughtfully.
"Or maybe try thinking with your head instead of your pocket?" Laws shot back. "If it's an artifact, someone lost it. Or someone gave it to them. The question is who, and why."
Paul sighed:
"So what? Goblins running an auction now? 'Shields for pretty eyes'?"
"Ha-ha-ha! That's funny!" Laws tilted his head, evaluating the joke.
Paul grimaced thoughtfully, then, as if brushing the thought aside, lightly tossed the shield to Laws. It spun in the air and landed in the elf's hands.
Laws turned to Paul, puzzled.
"What? You don't want it?"
"It ruins my style," Paul smirked.
"Style, huh?" Laws raised a brow. "Just don't get yourself killed confusing that 'style' of yours on the battlefield."
Paul shook his head:
"I like it when things are fast." He laughed. "If you don't want the shield, give it back."
"You handed it to me yourself," the elf replied calmly. "So now it's mine."
Paul snorted:
"That's how people lose their belongings…"
After checking the area once more and making sure no threats were lurking nearby, they headed out of the cave.