Elion stared at him blankly.
The sorcerer cleared his throat.
"But you can just call me Lumos."
"Now that you're out, you'll answer my questions, right?" Elion asked—more command than a request.
"But of course," the man replied with a slight bow, raising his index finger. "But first, would you happen to have something I could use to cover myself?"
The young cook sighed.
They fashioned a crude loincloth from the rags scattered around the ruined village.
"Not my usual style, but it will do," Lumos said dejectedly.
He gave Elion a curious look, raising an eyebrow.
"If I may ask, what's a young man like you doing here?" he said, eyeing the camo, military-style clothing and the lack of visible weapons.
He had left it with Farha since their weapons were supposed to be confiscated as per the agreement to stay in the village.
"I could ask you the same. What the hell were you doing at the bottom of a well?" Elion shot back, not eager to reveal anything before learning more about the man.
"Ah, that," Lumos said with a sheepish smile. "I was exploring the ruins in search of a higher understanding. Then I was ambushed by the Dwellers of the Depths and thrown down there for…"
He paused, calculating.
"What's the date today?"
"If I counted right, July 25th."
"No, the year."
"943 of the Fourth Age."
Lumos narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Oh gods," he muttered. "I've been down there for…"
Elion stared at him, silent.
"Ten years…" the sorcerer said, his voice barely audible above the rustling forest.
A long silence followed.
Lumos stroked his disheveled beard nervously, finally seeming to accept the weight of the revelation.
"Tell me," he said gravely, "has war broken out between the cities? Has the First River fallen like Horis?"
Elion shook his head.
"No. Things were stable when I left." He didn't say why he'd left—still unsure how much to trust the man.
Lumos exhaled in relief.
He was attacked by Dwellers of the Depths? They seemed friendly to humans—why would they do that to him?
Elion narrowed his eyes.
Is there something he's not telling me?
"You're a First Finger, right?" he asked.
The sorcerer nodded.
"Then what were you really doing down here? Even for a First Finger, exploring the Depths alone is suicide."
The man smiled proudly.
"I'm a lot more resourceful than I look."
Still as vague as ever, huh.
The rustling around the ruined village intensified.
"We should move," Elion said, his gaze scanning the forest. "This place isn't safe."
Lumos raised an eyebrow.
"Right… a safe place… wait, you're serious?"
Elion nodded, already walking.
"But fair warning—it's among the Dwellers of the Depths." He was watching the sorcerer closely for a reaction.
A flicker of fear passed through his eyes.
"A safe place, huh? I think I'll take my chances with the forest monsters." He turned to leave, but Elion grabbed his wrist.
"I saved you. The least you can do is meet my friends. I think they'll take great interest in your… sorcery."
The young Unlocked grinned—something just a little off about it.
Lumos shifted in uneasiness.
"But they'll just kill me, won't they? Finish what should've killed me ten years ago."
"I don't know who you met, but the imps I encountered were more welcoming than most humans."
The sorcerer raised an eyebrow, looking at his battered body. He didn't have many choices all things considered. He was not foolish enough to attempt surviving the Depths in his state.
"…Alright, if you say so, Mister Elion."
"Call me Elion. You're older than me, anyway."
The man nodded courteously.
Back at the village, the young Unlocked drew even more stares—now with a half-naked, vagabond-looking man at his side. The sorcerer shifted uncomfortably under the eyes of the Dwellers.
"Who the hell is this?" Eshrod asked, giving Lumos a strange look.
"The sorcerer I told you about," Elion said, untying the ropes he'd used to fish the man out of the well.
Farha eyed the man as if he was an alien. She remained as silent as ever.
"So that's why you needed the rope?" Eshrod said.
"I told you, didn't I?"
The Gremlin grumbled but stayed quiet.
Kellta finally emerged from planning with Orm. She squinted at Lumos, her gaze scrutinizing his marked body. If Elion didn't know better, he might've assumed she was some kind of pervert. But he knew she was studying the glowing runes on his skin.
"What is this… who is this?" she asked.
The sorcerer raised an eyebrow, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
"Could you do the rune thing? He doesn't speak your language," Elion said.
Kellta approached to draw the translation rune, but Lumos stepped back.
"You can look, but don't touch," he said half-jokingly, clearly uneasy.
"Don't worry, she says she doesn't bite—though I wouldn't test it," Eshrod said with a smirk. She never missed the opportunity to offer the 'Eshrod treatment' to whomever she met.
"What's he saying?" Kellta asked.
"Nothing important. Just go ahead," Elion said, motioning for Lumos to stay still.
After some coaxing, the sorcerer relented. When the rune glowed golden, he grimaced.
"So," Kellta said, eyes gleaming, "what are those markings all over your body?"
"Enchantments… wait, how am I understanding you now?"
"Translation rune," she said casually. "But your enchantments… they use a mix of the Pale Witch's script and something else. How does it work?"
Lumos's eyes lit up with curiosity.
"The Pale Witch?"
Eshrod groaned.
"Great. Another nerd. Don't we already have enough with Eli and Kel?"
Farha shrugged, glancing at Elion, as if searching for something in his expression. Maybe how much he trusted the sorcerer. The young cook shook his head.
A knock echoed on the door of Orm's house.
Kellta reached for her disguise and went to fetch Orm. It wasn't exactly known that the Light-Walkers were staying at the shaman's place, so it was better to get him to take care of his visitors.
Orm answered just as the knocking intensified.
The group of humans slipped into another room—only Kellta stayed behind to eavesdrop.
Knights stood outside, their armor in better shape than Dulan's hunter crew.
"Sir Orm," one said, voice deep and hoarse, "we've received reports about Light-Walkers from Hunter Dulan."
He glanced toward the house.
"Now that the village chief is back, they're to be brought before him."
Kellta's jaw tightened beneath her mask, her expression darkening.
"Why are you asking me?" Orm said.
"Don't play dumb. You healed them and we have witnesses saying that some of them entered your house not long ago."
Orm hesitated.
"I don't—" he was about to deny harboring the Light-Walkers despite the risks when Kellta stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder and stepping forward.
"We'll go," she said, deepening her voice, forcing her accent into something foreign.
The shaman looked surprised but kept his expression neutral.
The knight scowled at her appearance.
Four humans and one disguised Dweller followed the six-armed escorts.
Orm handed Lumos some clothes—trousers and a shirt—so he wouldn't look completely feral.
Tension was thick. It didn't take a genius to know that things might turn ugly. Farha and Eshrod were on edge. Elion kept studying the knights, planning the most efficient takedown strategy. Lumos looked around with cautious curiosity.
As a First Finger, he was probably the strongest among them—but his powers were still a mystery.
They were escorted to the third plateau without a word. There, a large building awaited them. It was a two-story wooden structure, most of the first story made of dark stone. It was well crafted, clearly some focus was put on its style.
The interior resembled that of a town hall. Empty chairs lined the room in perfect rows. At the far end sat a man on a raised podium, flanked by guards. One in black armor radiated an oppressive aura.
"Welcome to our village, Light-Walkers," the chief said, his face barely masking his disgust.
He was old, grey hair trailing behind him, crooked horns curling from his skull. His clothes were finely made, brown cloth and leather.
"I am Veriant, Chief of this humble abode."
"You can call me Scorched," Kellta replied, voice like venom.
"We'll need your real name," Veriant said. "Your stay depends on how much we can trust you."
"No," she replied, her tone dry.
Veriant chuckled.
"Very well…" He paused. "You've been here a day, I hear. Dulan welcomed you in my absence."
Kellta nodded.
Lumos, who was silent as a tomb, kept staring at the village chief, his eyes hiding pure resentment. Veriant squinted at him, a flicker of recognition passing through his emerald eyes as his smile faltered.
He turned back to Kellta.
"Let's cut to the chase. We encountered some of your kin." His gaze moved over the humans in silent judgement.
"They murdered a man." His tone dropped, cold and sharp.
Elion's brow furrowed.
Someone else made it here first? One of the Unlocked from S33?
He doubted they'd kill unless provoked. Even if they couldn't understand them.
"They fled into the forest after we captured one of them," Veriant went on. "That's why we can't trust you."
A crooked smile curled across his face.
"So, what'll it be, Scorched?"
Kellta's fist clenched.
She was clearly thinking of Orm—how this whole situation would affect him.
"We'll leave immediately," she said at last.
Veriant stood and walked toward them, slow and deliberate.
"A wise choice…" His eyes drifted past her—settling on Lumos. "…But I'm afraid that won't be possible."