After the meager, yet nourishing, meal, the young girl, Morisa, succumbed to the peaceful embrace of sleep. Jai, his movements as fluid and silent as a jungle cat, gently lifted her small form. She was feather-light, a haunting testament to the trauma she had endured. He carried her across his broad shoulders, her head resting near his neck, her breathing soft against his ear.
James, ever the pragmatic one, gathered their meager possessions. The heavy, canvas travel bag—stuffed with survival gear, a few changes of clothes, and James's precious tools—was slung over one shoulder, while Jai's lighter, personal satchel was tucked under the opposite arm. He adjusted the straps, the weight a familiar comfort, and turned to Jai.
"How much time do you reckon it'll take us to get to the middle of the kingdom, and then to the palace?" James asked, his voice ringing with a natural, carrying quality.
Jai winced, his hand instinctively motioning for silence near the girl's ear. "Bro! First, talk slowly. She's sleeping," he chastised in a low, conspiratorial whisper. He shifted Morisa to a more comfortable spot. "The thing is, it'll take us approximately one day of steady walking to reach the palace gates. We're still a good distance out from the capital's main thoroughfare. He also mentioned we might take a cart to get into the palace more quickly, once we hit a populated area."
James nodded, the fatigue of the last few days—the rush, the fighting, the constant vigilance—finally settling deep in his bones. He tightened his grip on the bags and started their walking rhythm, a steady, measured pace designed to conserve energy.
They hadn't walked for more than half an hour when a sound—the clatter of wheels on packed earth—reached them. Rounding a bend in the dusty road, they saw a cart. James let out a silent sigh of relief; a ride would cut their time in half. But as his eyes fixed on the vehicle, his relief evaporated, replaced by a cold dread.
It was the same cart. Distinctive, with faded green paint and a makeshift wooden cage mounted near the back—it was the very cart used by the despicable men, the one they'd rescued Morisa from.
"Down! Now!" Jai hissed, his low voice a whip.
In a single, coordinated movement honed by years of surviving together, they slipped off the road and dove behind a thicket of thorny scrub. Jai crouched, shielding Morisa's sleeping form with his body. They were perfectly still, the only sound the ragged inhale and exhale of their own breath.
Through the leaves, they saw two men emerge from the cart, stretching and adjusting the horses' harness. It was them—two of the lackeys involved in the kidnapping.
We have to be careful, Jai thought, his grip on Morisa tightening. The objective hasn't changed. Get her to her house, to the safe hands of her family. Only then can we move on to The Shadow Ledger.
They watched, holding their breath, until the two men finished their work and sauntered off the road, disappearing into a small, dilapidated tavern.
"They're leaving," James whispered, his eyes glued to the tavern door. "It's safe to walk. Maybe even safer than taking a ride now. We stick to the schedule."
Waiting until they were absolutely certain the kidnappers were preoccupied, Jai and James resumed their journey, sticking to the edge of the road. Their pace was now a little faster, a subtle urgency replacing their previous measured walk. Morisa remained asleep, a small island of peace in the rising storm of their mission.
They soon reached a small, roadside village bustling with merchants, farmers, and travelers. Their first stop was a provisioner's shop. They needed food, and more importantly, they needed a healing artifact.
"The Dwarf King," Jai murmured to James as they browsed a stall displaying an assortment of minor magical items, "he can't know the extent of her injuries. If he sees her battered and bruised, he'll immediately rebel against The Shadow Ledger—the whole organization."
James nodded grimly. "An open war right now would only make the organization fight with each other, true, but it would spill onto the common people. It'd put countless lives in trouble. We can't have that."
Their agreed-upon strategy was clear: they had to investigate, find The Shadow Ledger's main hub, dismantle them from the inside, and rescue everyone—especially the kids—before any open conflict could ignite. The safety of the children was their primary concern.
They finally located a dealer with a legitimate artifact, a Tier 10 Healing Artifact known as "Verrus." After a tense session of haggling—a back-and-forth typical of the merchant's guild—they secured the item for five thousand zuo.
Back in the relative quiet of a secluded alley, Jai took the artifact. It was a smooth, palm-sized stone that pulsed with a faint, warm light. He held it close, his concentration absolute. Using a forbidden, esoteric method, he began to refine the stone's energy, infusing it with his own unique power—his gold blood and his core essence. The stone flared, then settled, its power amplified.
Carefully, Jai woke Morisa. "Little one," he said softly. "I have something to help you."
She blinked her sleep-heavy eyes. He pressed the Verrus to the worst of her lacerations. The warm light flooded her skin, and she gasped softly, not in pain, but in relief. The Tier 10 artifact, even after Jai's refinement, was only capable of healing minor injuries, but it worked miracles on the deep cuts and abrasions. The wounds closed, the skin knitted perfectly, but the bruises—the tell-tale marks of rough handling—remained. Those were too deep, too systemic, for the artifact's immediate power to fix.
"The Verrus will need time to recover its energy," Jai explained, wiping his brow. "At least three days before it can be used again." He looked at the perfectly mended skin and the deep purple bruises that contrasted starkly with it. "It's more than good, not good-for-nothing," he muttered, correcting his previous pessimistic thought.
James knelt beside Morisa, his gaze earnest. "Morisa, please," he said, holding her small, recovered hand. "Don't tell your father or your brother about the organization yet. About The Shadow Ledger."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why, Big Brother? Is it not a good thing that I was kidnapped by them? Isn't it important?"
"Yes, because you're a royal," James started, his logic too cold, too political. "And everyone thinks you're a noble, precious person. If they know you were taken—and how you were taken—everyone will think little of you. They'll question your security, your importance—"
"Don't talk nonsense," Jai interrupted, his voice sharp with sudden, protective anger. He gently turned Morisa toward him, placing a hand on her cheek. "Morisa, listen to me. James is worried about politics. I am worried about people. I want to rescue all the kids, and I need to make sure no one else gets hurt by them. I'm going to personally catch the ones responsible, and then we'll rescue all the children. We can't start a huge war over your bruises, Morisa. We have to be smart."
She looked at him, her wide, intelligent eyes searching his. He had given her a mission, a reason for her silence. She nodded, her small face serious. "Okay, Big Brother Arthur," she said, using the alias they'd settled on.
Healed, fed, and with a shared secret now binding them, Jai and James resumed their journey. The day passed in quiet companionship, the hours marked by the rhythmic thud-thud of their boots on the road.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in violent streaks of orange and purple, the chill of night began to set in.
"It's best to take a room for ourselves," Jai announced, looking at Morisa's dirt-caked face and ripped clothing. "Morisa also needs a good bath. A traveler's inn won't do."
He soon spotted a rental house—not overly grand, but not squalid either. It was an honest-looking place. Jai paid for three rooms, thinking privacy would be best.
But as they ascended the worn staircase, Morisa gripped Jai's sleeve. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered, her eyes wide with a residual fear the Verrus couldn't cure. "I'm going to sleep with Big Brother Arthur."
Jai felt a sudden, unexpected flutter in his chest. A strange mix of paternal protectiveness and awkward surprise. He recovered instantly. "Okay," he said, trying to sound completely unbothered. He turned back to the proprietor, an old woman with weary eyes. He paid the adjusted fee for two rooms—three thousand zuo for the night.
After much-needed baths, they settled into their respective rooms. James, predictably, was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
In the second room, Morisa was already tucked into the generous bed. As Jai lay down, she immediately reached out and took his hand, holding it very tightly against her cheek. Jai didn't pull away. He looked at the innocent, trusting face of the girl and a wave of pure, unadulterated fury washed over him. How could anyone torture this cute girl? he thought, his anger a hot, silent fire. He stared at the ceiling until the feeling subsided, and then, finally, he too fell into the deepest of sleeps.
He woke instantly, not to a sound, but to an overwhelming, unnatural sensation: light.
When he opened his eyes, he wasn't in the dingy rental room. He was in a space filled with an oppressive, high-tech glow. His surroundings were saturated with screens and dominated by the rhythmic, electronic pulse of unfamiliar music.
Before him sat a man. His hair was a stark, unnatural black, and his eyes were the chilling, startling color of red. He was impeccably dressed in a black suit, sitting at a minimalist desk, silently signing papers. The walls around him were not walls at all, but huge, seamless screens, all playing the same baffling, fast-paced sport—football.
Jai, completely disoriented, could only stare. The man looked up, his red eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Who are you? How did you come to my room?" the black-suited man asked.
The language struck Jai with a cold shock of familiarity. It was the same, precise, slightly archaic dialect that Emperor Dominatrix had spoken in his own world. Jai opened his mouth to reply, a thousand questions forming on his tongue—What is this place? What is football? Who are you?
But before a sound could pass his lips, he was violently yanked back to reality.
He woke up with a gasp, his body drenched in sweat, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
"Big Brother Arthur," Morisa's sweet voice whispered, her hand still holding his, her face hovering inches from his own. "Why are you drenched in sweat? Did you have a scary dream?"
Jai fought to control his breathing. His first instinct was to panic, but he immediately checked himself. He couldn't alarm her.
"Yes," he lied, his voice rough. "It was just a bad dream." He gently untangled his hand and swung his legs out of the bed. "I need to wash my face."
After splashing cold water on his face in the wash basin, he rejoined James and Morisa for a quick, somber breakfast. They resumed their journey, the sun already high.
Jai walked in a daze, the bizarre images of the screens, the red-eyed man, and the futuristic room replaying in his mind.
"What are you thinking about?" James asked, noticing his friend's unusual silence.
"Nothing," Jai replied, the word a flat, low-voiced dismissal.
But the dream was not nothing. It was a dark, persistent seed planted in his subconscious. It was a memory—or a prophecy—that always chased him, making him worse in thought, distracting him from the urgent, tangible reality of the kingdom and the captive children.
He shook his head and focused on the palace gates in the distance. One day, he thought. One day until we hand her over. One day until the real work begins.