There was only so much time one could spend wandering aimlessly through a wasteland before things started to feel hopeless. Although they did not officially rank among them, the Ruins of Old Orario easily rivaled any of the other districts in size—each a city in its own right.
Not even raising all my stats into D rank had managed to ease the lingering agitation that abandoning the murdered party to be devoured by monsters had kindled within me.
It was the logical choice. The reasonable choice. And it was also the choice that kept me awake that night. The moment Hestia fell asleep, I snuck out to investigate the rumors I had heard earlier in the day.
A futile endeavor that accomplished nothing.
That initial feeling of dejection gradually shifted into suspicion on the following day when both Rose and Welf assured me that neither of them had heard anything similar.
The number of people gossiping about criminals roaming the outskirts on my way to Babel had increased—as had the volume of their voices. It was as though they wanted the entire city to hear what they had to say.
Welf had spent the last two days either cooped up in his smithy or down in the Dungeon with me, so it was entirely possible for him to have missed them—but my advisor worked for the Guild. The fact that they had kept Orario from collapsing for almost a thousand years, despite it having been destroyed more than once, was a testament to their competence.
The chances of me hearing about anything that violated the laws they had put in place before they did were so small as to be almost negligible.
Reality clearly did not care about probability, because that was exactly what had happened. And it was happening in my own backyard.
Instead of heading directly to the church, as I usually did after parting ways with Welf, I continued the search I had begun the night before.
By now, the sun had long since set. The crescent moon had climbed to its apex in the star-lit sky.
"Let me go! You stupid bastards!"
My tireless efforts were rewarded only moments before I finally decided to call it a day.
"Fight me fair and square! If you dare!"
Orario earned its moniker as the labyrinth city, and the same had been true for its earlier iterations. It was impossible to tell which of the dozens of ruins the shouting originated from.
"Will someone shut this brat up already?"
"How about you make him swallow the poison for once? That little asshole almost bit my fingers off last time!"
"And I'll do it again!"
"You little shit—"
An audible struggle broke out between the three voices. My boots pounded against the cracked pavement as I rounded corner after corner, rushing from building to building.
The structure the sounds were coming from was barely standing, and its ceiling had long since collapsed. I kept my silhouette low as I approached from the side and cast a covert glance through one of its shattered windows.
"At last, sweet silence."
A white-haired demihuman boy lay motionless on the floor, his limbs bound tightly in metal shackles. Two armored figures pinned his shoulders to the ground while a bald man removed a conspicuously empty vial from his mouth.
"Making us wait out here in this shithole for almost half a week," a fourth person sneered from the back of the room "They better be good for the Valis!"
My fingers curled around the pommel of my sword as I circled the building in search of an entrance. It must have had a door once, but any such openings had since been filled with mismatched bricks.
There was only one way in.
I took a few steps back—then surged forward, clearing the wall in a single leap before crashing into the enclosed space.
Aside from the boy and his captors, the vaguely square room was empty. The floor was far smoother than it had any right to be, and there was no sign of rubble or the remains of the ceiling.
They could not have accomplished all this in a mere few days. This place must have been in use for quite some time.
"Demeter's tits! Who are you supposed to be?"
I did not dignify the cowardly-looking man's question with an answer. He wore neither armor nor did he carry himself like a warrior. His accomplices were the true threat.
"Let him go."
My voice lowered as I glared at them.
"Now."
"Piss off, boy," the tallest of the three scoffed, reaching for the axe strapped across his back. "You don't want this fight."
"Oh, but I do."
My sword slid free from its sheath with a sharp hiss. Welf was wrong. This was clearly adventurer business.
"Enough talk."
The gruff voice of the bearded barbarian standing beside the tall man rumbled like rocks grinding against each other.
"You see us. You die."
"This is your final warning."I tightened my grip around the hilt of my sword. "If you don't surrender now, I cannot guarantee your survival."
It took all three of them to overpower a single boy. One who could not even fight back. They were level 1 at best.
"What? You think you're hot shit just because you're from Orario?"
The tall man's expression twisted into an ugly sneer.
"The world's a lot bigger than this arrogant fucking city of yours!"
My focus sharpened to a razor's edge as they brandished their weapons. Whether it be humans or monsters, the basic principles of fighting a group remained the same.
Superior speed. Seizing the initiative. Exploiting every opening.
The bald man was the first to reach me. He had not spoken a word since I arrived, but the venom in his eyes was unmistakable.
He wanted to kill me.
The raw bloodlust rolling off him was reminiscent of the Dungeon's children.
Twisting around the club he swung at my head was no more difficult than dodging a needle rabbit's horn. In the split second before his comrades caught up, I drove my elbow into the side of his chin.
The air screamed in front of my face as I avoided the sledgehammer wielded by the bearded man with a simple step back. He looked strong, but his speed was lacking.
Both hands wrapped around my sword as I met the axewielder's strike. Naked surprise flashed across the man's face as I leaned into the clash and sent him stumbling backward.
The resistance he mounted was weaker than I had anticipated—a far cry from the enhanced Kobolds, whose physical dominance I had to contend with all day.
Not allowing myself to lose sight of the battlefield, I spun just in time to repel the barbarian's hammer. Moving with the motion, I shifted my full weight onto my right leg and lashed out with the other, meeting the bald man's club with a thunderous kick.
The blunt weapon tore from his grasp and slammed into the far wall.
My pulse danced to the beat of a familiar drum as I planted my feet and deflected the bearded man's next blow before snapping to the side to block the axe aimed at my neck.
Sparks flew as my sword bit into the inferior weapon. It wasn't just the quality of the axe. Despite the tall man's size, he was weak.
Surprise drowned beneath a torrent of bitterness in his storm-colored eyes as I lifted a hand from my grip. The pressure on my sword arm immediately doubled, but not enough to make me budge.
The barbarian roared like a wild beast as he lunged for another attack. I did not turn to face him. Instead, I snapped my free hand toward where I anticipated the blow would come from while maintaining the deadlock with the axe wielder.
A stifled groan was all I allowed myself as the hammer slammed into my palm. Ignoring the pain, I clenched my fingers around the weapon and tore it from its owner's grasp. With a heave of effort, I then hurled it at the bald man, who had recovered his club and was rushing toward me.
Moving quickly, I stopped pushing against the axe wielder and drove my knee into his gut when he lurched forward. A wheezing breath burst from the man's gaping mouth as he collapsed, his flimsy armor buckling beneath the force of my blow.
The barbarian's expression lacked its earlier bravado as I turned and stepped toward him. I had already taken his weapon and, for the first time, I was giving him my undivided attention.
His trembling hands balled into fists as he gathered his courage and charged.
Following a sudden impulse, I shifted my grip and plunged my blade into the ground.
When the bearded man finally reached me, I weaved around his first two punches and slapped the third aside with the back of my hand. Then I drove a devastating hook into his right temple.
He dropped like a graceless meat puppet.
My gaze settled heavily on the remaining two men as I retrieved my sword. They were slowly pushing themselves back to their feet, but neither looked fit for battle.
"Surrender."
The tall man's sunken eyes flashed with stubborn defiance as he gasped for air. He wrapped both hands around his axe.
"Fuck you!"
Even before, his technique had not been anything special. Now it was simply sloppy. I sidestepped the incoming strike and crashed my foot into his left kneecap—harder than I meant to.
An ear-piercing screech ripped itself from the man's throat as his leg gave way with a sickening crunch. The sound cut off abruptly when I smashed the pommel of my sword into his chin.
A quick grimace crossed my face as I shot the shattered limb a quick glance, before turning to the final man still standing. Far from being afraid, his eyes dripped with the same bloodlust he had radiated from the beginning.
The reason for his enduring silence finally revealed itself when he charged at me, his mouth opening wide in a silent scream. Where there should have been a tongue, there was only a mutilated pink stump.
My stomach turned in revulsion as I closed both hands around my sword and took a single step forward, bringing the blade down in a powerful arc that cleaved cleanly through the mute man's wooden club.
The severed half was still falling when I spun sharply and slashed upward at his bald head. Moments before the strike connected, I twisted my wrist so the gleaming edge became a flat surface.
"Stop."
The blunt side of my sword halted inches from the man's skin. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. A faint trace of clarity seeped into his brown eyes.
"Don't move! You Orario bastard!"
My field of vision expanded to encompass the cowardly-looking man I had ignored in favor of his more threatening companions.
"Yeah, that's right!" he sneered, tightening his grip on the ivory shortsword he pressed against the unconscious boy's back.
"You like it? I call this beauty Backbiter. It's an enchanted sword!"
His rat-like features twisted into a sinister grin.
"It will pierce right through this brat. Like a knife through butter! Unless you do exactly what I say, when I say it!"
I should not have underestimated him. Appearance could be deceiving. The Dungeon had taught me that lesson weeks ago.
"Don't hurt him," I warned.
"I won't. As long as you don't force me to."
The bald man I held at swordpoint smirked up at me. His expression radiated vindictive amusement as he retreated toward his partner.
"Drop your blade and step back."
My nameless sword clatters against the floor as I follow the coward's orders without complaint—lest he get spooked and feel the need to prove his threats were genuine.
"Tongueless," he continued, his tone growing increasingly smug, "take this idiots sword and come over here."
I offered no resistance as the aptly named mute took my blade and scurried back to his companion's side. I could still turn this around. All I needed was an opening.
"Who sent you here?" the coward asked.
"Nobody."
"Bullshit!"
As if to taunt me, he pressed the short sword deeper into the boy's lower back. It would not be long until he drew blood.
"This is the third night we've waited in these godsforsaken ruins! And still nobody has come to meet us!"
His expression twisted into something dark and venomous.
"Do you really expect me to believe it's a coincidence that you showed up here? Even an amazoness could tell we've been set up!"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
The rumors spoke of criminals fighting in the Ruins of Old Orario. They said nothing about them waiting for someone.
"I don't believe you."
My stomach dropped as the coward plunged Backbiter into the demihuman boy's spine.
For a single moment, I couldn't move.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
"Why?" I asked softly, unable to make sense of it. "You gave me your word."
"I lied!"
The coward's voice danced with sadistic delight.
"Tongueless, kill him!"
Morsalis stirred as the mute man rushed forward, brandishing my own sword.
"What happens next is on your hands," I said. "Remember that."
The world became stark and silent. The boy bleeding out on the floor did not matter. My own rage did not matter. All that mattered was killing the two men in front of me.
I ducked beneath the incoming slash and drove my fist into Tongueless's ribs, shattering them. When he stumbled backward, I followed and wrapped my fingers around his face. With my other hand, I tore my sword from his slackening grip. He collapsed without a sound, as silent in death as he had been in life.
Rage. Relief. Wrath. Ecstasy.
The emotions churning inside me were as volatile as these were contradictory.
Building a resistance against the effects of my Blessing felt like an exercise in futility, but I had learned to function despite them.
"Shit."
My expression smoothed as I turned toward my final enemy.
"Wait!"
Now that it was his own life on the line, the coward's earlier smugness had vanished, like smoke in the wind.
"Let's talk about this, okay? You might not know it, but this brat is actually a level 2 adventure!" He nudged the unmoving body with his foot. "Something like this is just a scratch to people like him!"
The poison they had forced the boy to drink was potent enough to keep him unconscious even after being stabbed through the back. It was impossible to tell whether he was already dead or merely passed out.
"Fine!"
The fearful, placating expression the coward had worn disappeared.
"You want to fight me, asshole? You think you're better than me? You think I'm scared of you?"
A frenzied kind of madness burned in his eyes as I advanced toward him. Not bloodlust. This was something else.
"Let's do this then!" he roared.
My pace slowed as he charged. He was unarmed, his blade still lodged in the boy's back. There was neither rhythm nor reason to his movements. Only direction.
Within seconds, he was in reach. My sword carved a diagonal path from the top of my vision to the bottom as I cut him. More gore than I had ever seen a human spill painted the floor in a crimson hue as his body fell in two.
The coward remained alive for a few moments, staring at his own entrails with disbelieving eyes. Then they turned glassy and still.
His death was like rainfall after a forest fire, dousing the flames of wrath his inside me.
I slid my bloodstained blade back into its sheath and rushed toward the demihuman boy. The pool of blood gathered around his body was no longer growing, so the bleeding must have stopped. He was still unconscious, but the steady rise and fall of his chest left no doubt that he was breathing.
The ivory shortsword had pierced straight through his spine. It must have punctured something vital. The fact that he was still alive lent credence to his alleged status as a level 2 adventurer.
My nails bit into my palms as I stared down at the injured youth.
I did not know what to do. How to help him.
Not for the first time, I cursed my Blessing for its inability to share my healing with other people. More than anything, I wished my hands could preserve life instead of taking it.
Hesitation slowed my movements as I reached for the shortsword. If he really was level 2, perhaps his enhanced constitution would allow him to recover if I removed it.
I froze as death kissed the side of my neck.
The blade's touch was so faint as to be barely noticeable. Yet it parted my skin all the same. A single drop of blood slid down my neck and onto my shoulder.
"Don't move."
There were no inflections in the woman's frigid voice. Whoever she was, she had arrived without making a sound. My instincts had not warned me of her approach, but now that she had revealed herself, they screamed a single truth.
Fighting her was suicide.
"Who are you?" I asked. "Why is someone like you working with scum like this?"
A tense silence stretched between us.
I didn't dare so much as blink.
"What were you about to do to that boy?" she demanded.
"I was trying to save him."
The blade's touch vanished.
"You killed one of them through skin contact."
The cold metal no longer grazed my neck, but the feeling of death nipping at my heels remained just as intense.
"How?"
"It's a skill."
I couldn't see her expression, nor the look in her eyes. Yet somehow, I knew with absolute certainty that she would kill me without hesitation if I told even a single lie.
"Is it turned off?"
"It has been since I killed that bald man."
The bloodlust she had projected receded. I sucked in a sharp breath and pivoted on my heels.
Whatever I had been expecting, it wasn't this.
The woman looked like a fairy from a woodland fantasy. Green hair spilled from beneath a hood, attached to a leaf-colored cape that fell to her knees. Half of her fair face was concealed behind a mask, but it was her startling blue eyes and pointed ears that caught my attention most.
Then my gaze fell on the bodies behind her, and the spell was broken. Steady streams of blood flowed from the tall man and the barbarian's slit throats.
"You killed them."
"They were scum."
There was nothing I could say to that. Not only did I agree, but I was also responsible for the remaining corpses littering the ground.
The tightness in my shoulders eased as I gestured toward the demihuman boy.
"He needs help."
The elf gave a curt nod.
"Step aside. I will take it from here."
"No."
She did not so much as twitch, yet the air suddenly felt stifling again.
"Who are you?" I demanded. "Why should I trust you with him?"
The coward said they were waiting for someone here, and he had been right about one thing. The chances of anyone simply stumbling across this place were negligible.
"If his wounds are not treated soon, he will die."
The woman's voice brooked no argument.
"Unless you possess some form of healing method, step aside."
"Tell me where you're going to take him."
I had no way of stopping her. No right to expect any answers from her. The fact that we were even speaking now was only because, for some reason, she had decided to humor me.
But none of that mattered.
The moment I shed blood to save him, the boy had become my responsibility.
"The Dian Cecht Familia?" I guessed.
Dea Saint was the greatest healer in the world. If I had the Valis to afford her services, I would have already carried the boy to one of their hospitals. Surely a high-level adventurer like her was more affluent than me.
The elf neither blinked nor spoke. Her blue eyes were so piercing they felt almost invasive as they scrutinized me.
"I'll take him to the Hostess of Fertility."
"…The Hostess of Fertility?"
"The women working there have experience dealing with situations like this."
The tension drained from my shoulders. I had heard that name before.
"Are you familiar with a girl called Syr Flova?" I asked.
The elf's cold eyes widened slightly, thawing with something akin to surprise.
"I am."
The pressure she exuded vanished as I stepped aside.
"Tell Syr I'll take her up on her offer. I'll be there tomorrow. At sunset."
The woman did not respond. Instead, she moved forward and carefully lifted the boy, as though he weighed nothing at all.
My chest tightened with frustration. This was the second time I had tried to save someone—only to fail. Once again, I had managed to kill the thing threatening them, yet remained powerless to keep them alive.
I should have known something like this could happen again. Even if I didn't need them, even if I could barely afford them, I should have bought potions.
I should have done better than this.
"Save him," I pleaded, infusing the words with every ounce of sincerity I felt. "Please."
The visible half of the elven woman's face softened, touched by a quiet determination.
It was the first genuine emotion I had seen her display.
"I will."
And then she was gone. Leaving me alone in the graveyard we had made.
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AN: If you enjoy my writing and want to support it—there is more on Pa/tre/one/Jaeven.
I've also posted some character and scenery images over there under [Collection] for anyone's who's interested in that.