Town of willowrest, Rear back entrance.
Standing in the middle of the street, Shanz suddenly froze. His body stiffened as his mind drifted back into a haze of memories.
What… what happened?
he thought, dazed. His blank eyes shifted left and right, confusion painting his face. In his frozen state, he slowly looked around, realizing the strange truth.
Wait… why am I in the middle of the street?
....
Earlier that day, Shanz made his way toward the rear entrance of the town.
The streets here weren't as crowded as the bustling plaza near the center, but there was still a steady hum of activity.
The chatter of merchants, the shuffle of boots, and the clatter of wooden wheels blended into a low, restless noise.
A cart rumbled past him, its iron-rimmed wheels grinding against the uneven cobblestone.
Two men on the side strained under the weight of a large wooden storage box, grunting as they shoved it up onto the cart.
Another worker jumped down to guide them.
"Careful, careful! Don't split it open, you'll pay for it yourself if you do!" one of them shouted.
The others muttered curses under their breath but kept lifting.
More carts rolled in and out through the rear gate. Guards stood at their posts, iron spears in hand, their eyes sharp as they inspected every load.
One guard raised his hand, signaling.
"Alright, move along! Go! Next one up!"
His voice rang out firm, cutting through the bustle.
Another guard waved impatiently at the waiting cart driver, who whipped his reins, making the horse neigh as the wagon rolled forward.
Shanz slipped between them, his small frame unnoticed in the commotion.
He glanced to the side of the street. There, against the rough walls, a group of ragged figures sat slouched, their faces pale and weary.
Homeless folk, their clothes tattered, watched the carts with hungry eyes. One of them reached out with a trembling hand, whispering hoarsely to anyone passing,
"Spare a coin… just a coin…"
Most ignored him. A woman carrying a basket of bread quickened her pace, avoiding his gaze.
The houses along this street were no better—slums patched together with rotting wood and uneven planks.
Doors hung crookedly from rusted hinges, some no more than saloon-like push doors that swung back and forth whenever someone brushed past.
A child darted out of one, barefoot, chasing a stray dog down the filthy alley, his laughter swallowed by the din of the town.
Shanz took in his surroundings quietly.
A thin fog lingered in the air, clinging to the edges of the alleys and dulling the morning light.
Trash was everywhere—torn papers scattered across the ground, broken bottles glittering faintly under the light, the sour stench of spoiled food mixing with the smoke of a nearby cookfire.
Somewhere deeper in the slums, a pair of drunks argued loudly, their slurred voices echoing through the crooked alleys.
The boy's eyes wandered back toward the gate.
The guards' shouts continued in rhythm with the steady movement of carts, the whole scene like a harsh routine Shanz had stepped into.
Blending with the crowd, all while keeping his own thoughts guarded.
Two mysterious men lingered at the side of the road, just by the entrance of a narrow alleyway.
Both wore black cloaks, their belts lined with short daggers.
Their brown trousers were dirt-stained, and their gray, worn-out shirts clung to them as if they had seen too many days of travel.
Their faces were partly hidden beneath their hoods, but their eyes shone sharply from the shadows, following Shanz's every step as he passed.
They exchanged low whispers, words meant only for each other, their gazes locked on the sword hanging at Shanz's back—the Curvald.
Their tone carried suspicion, calculation.
But Shanz noticed none of this. Lost in thought, his mind tangled with daydreams, he walked on, eyes fixed straight ahead as if the crowd and noise had faded away around him.
He stopped for a moment at the side of the street, staring blankly at nothing.
One of the cloaked men smirked. With a quick flick of his finger, his lips moved in a hushed chant.
A faint, strange light sparked at his fingertips before bursting outward—a beam of cyan energy, fast and silent. It struck Shanz squarely.
His body stiffened. His eyes glazed over as he froze in place, trapped in his daydream, unable to move.
The man grinned, a quiet laugh slipping from his throat.
"Strange, isn't it? A mere child, walking around with a Curvald. Bad move, kid… you should've hidden it better."
He stepped forward, grabbed Shanz by the shoulder, and casually pushed him into the middle of the street as if dropping a discarded doll.
The frozen boy's katana still hung tightly in his grip, but with a tug and a practiced motion, the man wrenched it free, holding the Curvald as though he had claimed a prize.
Without another word, he turned and began to walk quickly down the alleyway.
His companion tilted his head and muttered,
"Why'd you bother putting him in the middle of the street?"
The first man chuckled darkly without looking back.
"Use your head, will you? He doesn't know the ways around here. Confusion is the easiest trick—you can use it in a fight, or when robbing someone blind. He's still new to this town.
Most people know that. Barely a few days since he showed up… a survivor of the goblin raid. Then that woman decided to take him in."
The second man smirked at that, his voice dripping with amusement.
"I see. Makes sense… and of course, coming from you—the most dangerous man in this town—it's something I shouldn't question."
The two cloaked figures exchanged a short laugh, their voices echoing faintly against the alley walls.
With that, they turned their backs on the frozen boy and disappeared into the shadowed alleyway, their footsteps fading into the mist.
...
Back in the middle of the road, Shanz blinked rapidly, his vision darting from one side of the street to the other.
The noise around him came rushing back all at once—voices, footsteps, the clattering of wheels. People glanced at him as they walked past, some annoyed, others barely paying attention.
A heavy cart rumbled toward him, its driver shouting.
"Move, child!" the man barked, straining to pull the reins.
Startled, Shanz snapped out of his daze and stumbled to the side of the road. His heart pounded, his chest rising and falling in quick breaths.
Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his temple as his shaky hands pressed against his knees.
What happened?
Why was I standing in the middle of the street?
A chime sound pops up
-
-
[DEFENSE MECHANISM]
Physical: 0.5
Status: 0.2
Mental: 0.7 > 0.9 (Increased!)
Magic: 0.3
-
-
He whispered the thought under his breath, his voice trembling. His eyes scanned the street, searching every corner, every face.
He had the faint, crawling sensation that someone had been watching him earlier. But all he remembered was drifting into a haze, daydreaming without realizing it.
I was too careless… too unaware. Naive.
He straightened himself and forced his legs to move. Step by step, he walked along the side of the road again, keeping his eyes wide open this time.
His gaze flicked from the alleyways to the rooftops, from the crowd to the carts rolling by.
At last, he reached the rear gate. But here, too, something was off.
No one was walking out on foot. Only carts rolled through, loaded high with crates and goods. The guards let them pass with loud orders, waving the drivers forward.
Shanz hesitated. If he simply walked forward, he might draw attention—maybe even get yelled at again. He clenched his jaw, thinking.
I can't just push my way out. There has to be another way…
His eyes followed the carts one by one as they exited through the gate. That was when the thought struck him. If he couldn't go out openly… then perhaps he could slip out hidden.
"How can I get past…"
he muttered, half to himself. His eyes scanned the wagons more carefully now, searching for one with enough space where he could tuck himself away.
He shifted nervously from foot to foot, studying each cart as it passed, weighing the risk.
After watching carefully for a minute, Shanz spotted a cart stacked high with hay rolling toward the rear gate. His eyes narrowed. Perfect. He glanced around first, checking to make sure no one was paying him too much attention.
The rider of the cart pulled the horse to a stop and stepped down, heading toward a guard to speak with him. That was Shanz's chance.
His pulse quickened as he darted forward, slipping behind the wagon.
With a quick, silent movement, he climbed onto the cart and burrowed into the hay, tucking himself deep inside the straw until he was hidden from sight.
A moment later, the driver returned, climbed back on, and flicked the reins. The horse snorted, the wheels groaned, and the cart began to roll forward again.
The wagon passed through the gate and out of the town.
Beyond the walls, three paths stretched ahead. The cart veered left, its wheels clattering noisily over uneven stones.
Every bump sent a jolt through the wooden frame, the grinding of wood and iron are echoing.
Hidden beneath the hay, Shanz held his breath. Sweat dampened his forehead, the straw scratching against his skin.
Just stay still… just for a little while longer.
He peeked through a gap in the hay, catching a glimpse of the road.
Three paths… this one's going left,
he thought, forcing himself to stay calm.
Minutes crawled by. The walls of the town grew smaller and smaller in the distance.
Shanz knew he couldn't stay in the cart forever. He clenched his fists.
I need to get out without the person hearing me… but how?
His mind raced. If I climb out now, the hay will rustle. Too loud.
Unless… I time it right.
He swallowed, his throat dry.
If I jump when the wheels hit the rocks… the noise might cover it. Worth a try…
He waited. His heart thudded with each roll of the wheels. The cart rattled, but not enough. He sighed softly in frustration.
"How much longer do I have to wait for this cart to hit the damn rocks…?"
he whispered under his breath.
Then it happened. The wheels struck a cluster of scattered stones. The whole cart jolted violently, wood creaking, hay shifting, the horse neighing in complaint.
Shanz seized the chance. He pushed aside the hay, slid off the cart, and hit the ground with a thud masked by the chaos of the rattling wheels.
He rolled once, landing on the dirt road. For a heartbeat, he froze, waiting to see if anyone noticed.
Nothing. The cart kept moving, rolling farther down the left path, its driver oblivious.
Shanz exhaled, relief flooding his chest. He had slipped out unseen.
While the cart kept rolling forward, the sounds of creaking wood, grinding wheels, and the horse's snorts slowly faded into the distance.
The driver's voice rose and fell faintly as he urged the animal on, leaving Shanz alone on the dirt road.
Shanz stood still for a moment, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. His eyes scanned every corner of his surroundings.
The morning sun cast a warm glow over the open road, painting long shadows across the ground. A light breeze carried the scent of soil and dew, rustling the grass along the roadside.
He muttered to himself, a mix of relief and unease in his tone.
"Escape accomplished… but where am I, exactly?"
Turning his head, he spotted a stretch of woods not too far from the road.
The trees swayed gently, their leaves glittering under the sunlight.
To the other side, he caught sight of something else—a small structure, half-hidden near the edge of the forest.
From here it looked like a house or hut, old and quiet.
"A house… right next to the forest?"
Shanz squinted, suspicion tightening his face.
"That could be dangerous. I shouldn't get too close. Better stick to the woods first."
Resolute, he adjusted his stance and set his sights on the treeline.
His boots crunched softly against the dirt as he started forward, each step carrying him farther from the road and deeper toward the cover of the trees.
The quiet of the forest felt safer, though his mind remained on edge.
The morning light streamed through the canopy, streaking the ground in shifting patches of gold and shadow.
Birds called out from the branches above, and somewhere in the distance, water trickled faintly, hinting at a stream or river.
And yet, for all his focus, Shanz failed to realize one critical thing. The familiar weight that should have been at his side… was gone.
His hand brushed absently against his hip, but his mind remained fixed on reaching the woods, unaware that the katana—the Curvald—was no longer with him.
Oblivious, he pressed on, his journey taking its first true step into the forest.