Sato walked silently behind Ezra, his steps measured and deliberate. The girl led the way along the narrow path, her shoulders tense, every movement stiff with fear. She could feel the cold, oppressive weight of death following her — the man behind her radiated danger like a blade held to her back. Each step she took felt heavier, as if the ground itself was pulling her down.
The landscape around them slowly changed. The rocky foothills gave way to denser patches of forest — tall pines and firs closing in on both sides of the trail. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in thin, golden shafts, but the air remained cool and sharp.
Ezra wanted to speak. She wanted to ask something — anything — to break the silence, but every time she opened her mouth, the words died. She was terrified of saying the wrong thing. One wrong word, one wrong move, and she was sure he would kill her without hesitation.
Sato noticed.
"If you have something to say, just say it," he said, voice flat and emotionless.
Ezra flinched violently.
Did I do something wrong? she thought, panic rising. Did I upset him?
She swallowed hard.
"I-I was just curious," she stammered, voice barely above a whisper. "How did you end up here? You don't look like someone who belongs in these mountains. You seem… lost."
Sato didn't answer immediately.
"I didn't get lost," he said finally, tone cold. "I've never been here before."
Ezra blinked.
"Then… how did you get here?"
"A blue portal dragged me in," he said simply. "When I woke up, I was inside a barbarian tent."
"Barbarians?" Ezra echoed, eyes widening. "The closest ones live in the far northern ice fields. So… you must have come from there. You were probably very weak when you first arrived."
She hesitated, then added:
"I've heard the barbarians are brutal, warlike, and incredibly strong. If the portal took you to them first… how did you survive? Did you run?"
Sato's expression didn't change.
"I was weak back then," he said flatly. "But I killed their leader with one knife. Then I fought a giant serpent. I killed it with one knife too."
Ezra's blood ran cold.
He's a real Monster, she thought, trembling inwardly. A true killer.
Sato glanced at her.
"What did you call the town we're heading to?"
"Lirhaven," she answered quickly. "It's one of the border towns with a portal. People like you — from the Continent — pass through it."
Sato frowned slightly.
"Do you still live in city-states here?"
"City-states?" Ezra repeated, confused. "I'm not sure what you mean… but Lirhaven belongs to the Pertfel Empire. It's one of their frontier towns."
Sato nodded slowly.
They continued walking.
The forest thinned, and the town came into view — Lirhaven: small wooden walls, stone buildings, smoke rising from chimneys.
Ezra slowed.
"This is Lirhaven," she said softly. "The portal is in the center. But I can't go further. Humans here… they hate demons. Even with the treaty, they see us as enemies. I'd cause trouble."
She looked at him.
"If you walk straight to the town square, you'll find the portal. It's guarded, but they won't stop a human."
Sato studied her.
"You're not coming?"
She shook her head.
"I can't. But… thank you again for saving me. And… good luck, Sir Sato."
She bowed slightly, then turned to leave.
Sato watched her go for a few seconds.
Before leaving, Ezra turned back to Sato one last time. She looked at him with a mix of nervousness and hope.
"If we meet again someday… can I ask you for one favor? Will you help me?" she asked softly.
Sato paused. He stared at her for a long moment, expression unreadable.
"I can't promise that," he said finally, voice low and neutral.
Ezra nodded slowly.
"Okay," she whispered.
She bowed once more, then turned and walked away, disappearing into the trees.
Sato watched her go until she was out of sight.
Then he turned toward Lirhaven.
He descended the path slowly, the trail sloping downward through thinning pines and rocky clearings. The town came into view below — small wooden walls, stone buildings clustered around a central square, smoke rising from chimneys. The portal's faint blue glow was visible even from here, pulsing in the distance.
He walked on, cloak billowing slightly in the cold wind, sword at his side.
Sato walked toward Lirhaven alone, the small border town growing larger with each step. The wooden walls were weathered but sturdy, reinforced with iron bands and topped with sharpened stakes. Two guards stood at the open gate — armored in chainmail and leather, spears in hand, eyes scanning every newcomer. They glanced at Sato — his black cloak, patched eye, bloodstained sword — but said nothing. He passed without a word.
Inside, the streets were narrow and cobbled, lined with low stone and timber buildings. Smoke rose from chimneys, carrying the smell of baked bread, roasted meat, and forge fire. People moved with purpose: merchants pushing carts of furs and ore, housewives carrying baskets of vegetables, children darting between legs.
Sato walked slowly, observing everything.
A blacksmith hammered at his forge, sparks flying. The sign read "Ironfang Smithy" — hammers, axes, and swords hung on display. Nearby, a herbalist stall overflowed with dried roots, glowing mushrooms, and vials of colored liquid. An old woman with a scarred face sold them, muttering prices to passersby.
Hunters and mercenaries were everywhere — some in light leather armor with bows slung over shoulders, others in heavier plate with massive two-handed swords. Most carried visible weapons: short swords at hips, daggers in boots, axes on backs. A few wore guild badges — silver wolf, red flame, black shield — pinned to cloaks or chests.
Sato noted the tension in the air. People glanced at strangers, especially those like him — scarred, armed, alone. Conversations hushed when he passed. A merchant selling fur cloaks quickly looked away when their eyes met.
He passed a tavern — "The Border Wolf" — from which laughter and clinking mugs spilled out. Through the open door, he saw a group of Hunters drinking, one of them missing an arm but laughing loudly.
Further on, a small square opened up. In the center stood a stone platform with a swirling blue portal — about three meters wide, edges crackling with energy. Two guards in Pertfel Empire uniforms stood watch, spears crossed, eyes sharp. A sign beside it read: "Continent Portal — Authorized Use Only — Fee: 5 silver."
Sato stopped at the edge of the square, blending into the crowd. He watched.
A Hunter stepped up, paid the fee, and disappeared into the portal. A merchant with a cart followed. The guards checked papers, nodded, let them pass.
Sato's eye narrowed.
*This is it. The way back.*
But something felt off. The guards were too alert. The square was too quiet. People avoided looking directly at the portal.
He needed to be careful.
He stepped forward.
The guards noticed him immediately.
One raised a hand.
"Halt. State your business."
Sato stopped.
"I'm going through," he said simply.
The guard looked him up and down — patched eye, bloodstained cloak, sword.
"Papers? Proof of origin?"
"I don't have any," Sato said.
The guards exchanged glances.
"Then you don't pass," the second guard said. "No Continent ID, no passage."
Sato's hand rested on his sword hilt.
Sato stood at the gate, staring at the guards. The one who had spoken earlier — a burly man with a scarred cheek — crossed his arms and sneered.
"Hey, if you're done standing around, move it. You're blocking others," he said.
Sato turned his head slowly, giving the guard a flat, unreadable look.
The guard smirked.
"Hey, don't give me that face. I'm not the one who lost your ID. You're the idiot here — your own fault."
Sato's hand slowly moved to the hilt of his sword.
The second guard — taller, thinner, with nervous eyes — quickly placed a hand on Sato's shoulder.
"Hey, don't make a hero out of yourself—" he started, but his voice cut off. His eyes widened in terror.
In that instant, he saw it clearly: Sato's hand flashing, his head flying off, rolling on the ground. Blood spraying. His own body collapsing.
He blinked.
The vision vanished.
He was still standing. Still alive.
*What… what was that? An illusion? No… it felt too real,* he thought, heart pounding. *He could have killed me right there. Without me even moving. He's too strong. I need to call for help—*
A calm, gentle voice interrupted.
"Oh, so he's here after all. I've been looking for you."
Sato turned.
A man in his early 30s stood there — handsome, short blond hair, wearing a white armor accented with golden lines. He held his helmet under one arm. Behind him were two companions — a female archer and a tall warrior with a greatsword.
The blond man stepped forward and addressed the guards with a polite smile.
"I'm Jens Tarved, Guildmaster of the Golden Phoenix Guild. This man is one of my guild members. He lost his ID during his last dungeon run — I hope you can forgive him and let him pass."
Sato opened his mouth to speak.
"Who the hell are—"
But Jens leaned close, whispering quickly into his ear:
"I'm trying to help you. Just nod along and stay quiet. I can get you through."
Sato looked at him for a moment, then gave a slight nod.
Jens turned back to the guards, still smiling gently.
"So, gentlemen… may we pass?"
The scarred guard hesitated.
The nervous one leaned in and whispered urgently to his partner:
"Hey, idiot, what are you doing? Do you want to pick a fight with the 20th-ranked guild on the entire Continent?"
The scarred guard's face paled.
He cleared his throat.
"…Fine. You can pass."
Jens smiled wider.
"Thank you. Come on, let's not keep the others waiting."
He placed a friendly hand on Sato's shoulder and guided him forward.
As they walked through the gate, Jens spoke quietly.
"You're welcome. Now let's get moving — before someone asks for proof."