It was hard to explain why, but that woman made Daion's skin crawl—much like Selka, though for very different reasons. Her dark hair, the way she walked demanding attention almost instantly, and those eyes that looked as if they wanted to crush you, all made Daion's conscience tremble.
Selka eyed her with suspicion—she clearly knew her already. In fact, everyone in the village seemed to know who she was, and it was obvious she enjoyed that, smiling to herself with arrogance and dominance. She looked at Daion and walked toward him; he stayed still, waiting to see what she'd do. The woman raised her head, locking eyes with him in open defiance.
"Let me guess, the new guy?" she asked with no real interest. Daion smiled, irritated.
"What gave it away? The wounds, the glove, or my pretty scarless face?" he shot back. Something about her deeply irritated him, pushing him to match her attitude.
"You're not terrified of me," she replied.
"Right. My greatest fear—women."
The tension thickened, though Daion couldn't really understand why. Sure, she had arrived with a military convoy, but aside from that, she wasn't particularly remarkable. He looked away, noticing the other summoned ones watching him with pity. He frowned, forcing himself to meet the woman's gaze until Selka stepped in.
"That's enough, Seraphine." The woman's eyes shifted at the name, and Selka flinched slightly as she approached. "What do you want here?" Seraphine smirked faintly.
"Oh, right, I forgot—the so-called leader I have to deal with in this dump is nothing but a tavern whore." She spat the words with disdain. Daion stared at her, surprised; Selka said nothing, biting her lip in frustration. "Well, it's simple. The village still owes the Guild…"
The villagers shuddered. Selka raised her eyes, fear in her voice.
"You can't be serious, look at the state of the town…" she protested, trembling.
"Of course, what was I thinking?" Seraphine glanced around, as if only just noticing the devastation. "What a shame. So, how much was it again? About two million veyls, right?"
Selka turned pale, the crowd grew restless. Daion studied Seraphine's face—there was no real emotion there, only a cruel smile and empty eyes. She looks like a robot built to be a bitch, he thought.
"Hey, and who exactly are you supposed to be?" Daion asked, trying to divert attention. She tilted her head at him. "You know, just so I can understand why some idiot like you is supposed to scare me."
The soldiers frowned, spears raised in surprise. Selka looked at him in terror, as if silently asking what the hell was wrong with him. Even Loryn glanced sideways in shock.
"Don't you think you should measure your words when you don't know who you're standing in front of?" she asked, more amused than offended.
"I don't like you. That's all that really matters to me," he replied bluntly.
"I'm the Divine Guild's representative. I run everything related to the summoned, I'm the one paying your bills, loudmouth," she explained, though Daion couldn't care less. "And I'm the one who helps these poor villages when they're attacked, kindly lending them my money so they can rebuild their lives. I also…" She gestured at the summoned ones behind her, who lowered their heads. "Lend out summoned heroes."
"You and I have very different ideas of what 'kind' means." Daion tilted his head. "And what do you ask in return? Their souls? Because I doubt they're paying you for your radiant personality."
"How rude. Do you really care that much what I do?" Her irritation began to show.
"I'm not a fan of bitches," he answered.
Silence fell over the square. The villagers looked at each other, the tension mounting. Daion braced himself for anything. She, on the other hand, just kept smiling, as if nothing mattered. Turning, she walked toward the summoned ones. They stared at her, trembling. She raised her hand, ordering them to stand. A faint purple glow shimmered from her fingers.
"I know your type of summoned," she said, glancing at Daion. "The moralists, the ones who despise injustice. You know, this one asked for a million-veyls loan to buy gear. He never paid back. Do you know what he gave instead?"
She brushed her hand lightly against the man's face. His collar glowed in response to her touch. But what came next even Daion hadn't expected—she seized his hair and kneed him in the face, breaking his nose before he could even think of resisting.
"Hey, how could you—?" the other summoned woman tried to protest, but Seraphine raised her hand. The woman's collar flared, tightening around her neck. She gagged, choking, staggering as she clawed at it.
"Your kind of summoned hate injustice, don't you?" Seraphine taunted. Daion took a step forward, but the soldiers lowered their spears at him.
He froze, reminded of his own condition—wounded and weak. Seraphine smiled in satisfaction, then kicked the man in the face, leaving him unconscious on the ground. She turned to the summoned woman; her collar squeezed even tighter. Her eyes bulged as she collapsed, struggling in vain to pry it off.
Then, at last, Seraphine stopped.
"They offered their freedom," she said, staring at Daion. "They became my toys. You asked who I am, didn't you?" She stepped closer, making it clear why everyone feared her. "I'm the bitch who keeps the pathetic summoned ones at her feet."
She traced her nail along Daion's chin. He clenched his teeth in frustration.
"How long until you become my toy?" She let out a laugh that, in any other situation, might have sounded cute. But hearing it from her made Daion nauseous.
Then he looked at the summoned girl: her face was turning blue. He stepped back warily, and the soldiers lowered their weapons. Seraphine let out another satisfied chuckle and clenched her fist; the summoned were released from her pressure.
Everything seemed on the verge of exploding. He was losing patience and about to do something very stupid. But Selka immediately stepped in, placing herself in between and glaring defiantly at Seraphine.
"I think the one you came to talk to is me…" she said, trying to sound as confident as possible. "There's no reason to put on a spectacle like this."
Seraphine studied her for a few seconds, testing her resolve, then shrugged. The two of them withdrew into the tavern. Daion watched them go. The soldiers exhaled in relief and carefully stepped aside.
The villagers returned to their tasks. The sky was darkening, and Daion wanted to smash something.
I slept all day, apparently, he thought, kicking a rock that shot off against a wall. Once again, it had been pointless.
Hours passed. The village kept stirring—mourning the wounded, rebuilding. Even in this state, they cooperated: searching for survivors under rubble, clearing dangerous structures… though it wasn't perfect. Fights broke out: some tried to steal the little that remained, others fought to reclaim it and divide it fairly.
Daion stayed out of it; he simply leaned against a wall. He was too injured to really help and wanted nothing more than to break the teeth of that black-haired bitch. Loryn simply watched him. Daion glanced at the soldiers opening the convoy, pulling out a few sacks filled with plain food, which they handed out without emotion. He looked down: despite not having eaten in a long time, his appetite was gone.
He also noticed how the summoned were given only half the rations of the others, and the soldiers laughed as the starving souls devoured their scraps.
"Did you know Omega energy works as a power source for our bodies?" Loryn said, watching the moment with serious eyes. Daion wondered why he never showed his face, though it wasn't important. "That's why we can go days without eating, and it's likely you don't feel hungry."
Daion looked at the summoned, their bodies thin, almost skeletal, savoring each bite as if it were divine.
"You should tell them that," he said bitterly.
"For it to work, they need to be given Omega energy. Those summoned are novice-rank slaves. She doesn't care about them. And the monsters? Soldiers kill them on sight if attacked, and their bodies get sold for profit," Loryn explained. Daion wasn't in the mood for an economics lecture, but his curiosity was piqued. He was sure this wasn't his first time seeing slaves.
"Why would a summoned go into debt, and how are they forced to comply?" Daion asked.
"Many think it's worth the risk: they get a few thousand veyls, buy gear, kill monsters, and earn the money back. That usually doesn't work," he explained simply. "As for how they're bound, they have to sign a contract to receive the loan, and their souls become linked to that woman's family power. They accepted the risks, and the summoned become controllable tools. It's a win-win."
Daion clenched his fists; he still couldn't tell if he was serious.
"So basically they gamble away their freedom for the chance of earning enough to cover it?"
"They're like college students," Loryn joked. Daion shot him a look, wondering what the hell he was talking about.
People kept eyeing him with suspicion, looking away when they passed nearby, pulling children aside, avoiding any contact. Daion was getting sick of it.
You'd have to kiss every single ass here just to be treated normally, get over it. He remembered the only two words of gratitude he'd received as the suns dipped beneath the horizon. He hadn't noticed how they spun around each other so distinctly. I still don't know if it was worth it.
"Hey," said a voice he recognized. In front of him stood the man who'd sold him the sheath and armor. His gaze was tired, his hands bruised and burned, his skin darkened.
"What do you want?" Daion asked wearily. The merchant looked around, as if making sure no one saw him. "No one's nearby, just say what you have to say and leave me alone. I've got plenty on my mind."
"You know, you seemed a lot nicer yesterday. Or at least not someone who'd insult a woman who could ruin our village," he challenged, looking at him seriously but without hate.
"Yesterday I didn't have all my bones broken, so forgive me if I pissed off a dangerous bitch," Daion replied, feeling no remorse. He hadn't lied when he said he'd do whatever he wanted. The blacksmith looked down and sighed.
"I don't expect you to solve this, but whatever you do…" He took something off his back and dropped it on the ground. Daion looked at it with curiosity and carefully pulled away the blanket covering it. A dark metal gleam shone through; once it was completely revealed, he recognized it immediately—a full assault armor, far sturdier and clearly more expensive than the one he had before.
"It's a gift, for protecting the village. It was the only armor that survived, and I thought it fitting to give it to you. I don't care what you do now, but I don't like owing anything to an Invoked, so… thank you."
The blacksmith left. Daion stared at the armor for a few seconds. That woman is extorting everyone, he thought, irritated. But then he remembered what the god had said. He smiled to himself with a plan, then turned to Loryn.
"Are you just going to stand there watching?" Daion asked.
"You just seem interesting. What will you do now?" she replied, her voice carrying a hint of excitement.
"That means I have your support, doesn't it?" Daion stood and wrapped the armor again. The blacksmith was wrong: he hadn't fought to save them, but for his own sanity. He still had to do something to earn the armor.
He walked decisively toward the tavern, weaving through the sick. The villagers glanced at him; Daion knew their murmurs instinctively: What is he planning? He'll only make things worse.
He passed the bar and stopped before the door Selka often used to slip away. Loryn came up behind him as he approached it.
"I don't care if they can't pay…" he heard Seraphine's voice. Just the sound of it made him angry.
"You can't punish us for what an Invoked said," Selka countered nervously.
"Oh no, dear, this is business," Seraphine assured her. "What the Invoked said doesn't matter to me—I already had my fun with him. Now your village will face the punishment: every inhabitant will become—"
Daion burst in without asking. Seraphine looked at him in surprise, and Selka seemed like she wanted to swallow her own tongue.
"Hi. Remember me?" Daion walked in with a wide grin.
The room was small—just a desk at the center, a wooden chair, and a couple of drinks. Behind Selka, two doors stood: one marked "Storage" and the other "Exit."
"How could I forget," Seraphine replied with mild irritation.
"Yes, how could anyone," Selka added. Daion had the faint suspicion that none of the three meant the same thing.
"What do you want, Invoked?" Seraphine asked.
"The Frontier," he said firmly. The woman narrowed her eyes with interest. "You said you were sent by the Primordial of Gravity. Well, he told me you'd come here to ask for help with it."
"And what's your connection to the Invoked of Gravity?"
"I'm his Invoked."
The woman seemed to flinch slightly, now watching Daion with care.
"The god warned me a problem would arise, and lately the Corrupted have begun to gain territory." She turned in her chair toward both Invoked, crossing one leg over the other. "So I came here expecting to find help…"
"How much time do they have to pay off their debt?" Daion asked. Selka stood abruptly.
"You want to take it on…?" Seraphine laughed. "How stupid…"
"Of course not." Both women froze in shock. "I'm no fool or hero willing to throw everything away for whoever I meet. I don't mind risking my life, but I won't sell my freedom. I'm asking: if I solve the problem at the Frontier, will you forgive their debt?"
"And why should I…?"
"I'm going to the Frontier regardless. But I think I deserve a reward if I fix the problem. It's business, isn't it?" The woman gave him a curious look.
"And why would you be able to solve it? Do you even know what it is?" she asked, taking the conversation more seriously now.
"Of course." Daion lied smoothly. "I am the Invoked of the God of Gravity, after all."
He glanced at Loryn, who still observed with keen interest.
"High-ranked Invoked, which god do you serve?" Seraphine asked.
"The God of Inertia," Loryn replied. The woman shivered faintly at the mention of that being.
"Can you back him up?" Seraphine leaned forward, her cynical expression unwavering.
"Of course…" Loryn answered. Daion blinked in surprise, realizing she was playing along.
The woman pondered for a few minutes. Daion wasn't sure if he was right, but he had the feeling he would find out clearly once he got there.
"If I help at the Frontier," Daion began, recalling the god's vision, "and we stop the Corrupted from advancing further, then you'll forgive SteelWall's debt. I'm certain what a village owes you is far less than what you'd lose if the Frontier shrinks—especially since it seems to affect you directly."
The woman chuckled softly, and her arrogant smile returned to settle on Daion.
"With those wounds? How do you plan to help?" the woman asked. Selka looked up, hesitating whether following Daion's lead was a good idea.
"There's a small city a couple of days' travel from here," he began, catching Seraphine's attention. "It wouldn't be hard to find healers there."
She thought for a moment, weighing every possibility. Her smile never faded, which only made her look more intimidating. Then her eyes locked on Daion.
"Very well. It's a deal." She stood abruptly and walked toward the door. "You have two weeks to reach the frontier. The god said the problem will arrive in a month. Solve it, and I'll forgive the debt."
She left the room. Daion exhaled.
"That was easy."
"It's because the debt is actually small," Selka explained. "The frontier generates millions of vayls a day, thanks to the bodies and the Omega energy from the Corrupt. If they suffered a large-scale attack, they'd lose more than this village could offer in a hundred years. You made a terrible bargain."
Daion sighed. Clearly, it wouldn't be that easy. The voice of the god—or whatever it truly was—echoed in his head: Hero complex… But he didn't care. For now, he was satisfied with the outcome.
"You're an idiot, you know that?" Selka snapped, slamming the table. "The frontier— you're just a novice Invoked…!"
"Normally I'd expect a thank you."
"Thank you my ass! The frontier is the most dangerous place there is, with Corrupt attacking day and night!" She shouted at him, and Daion flinched. "And I went along with your stupid gamble… God, if you die, that woman will wipe out this village as payback."
Selka leaned against her desk, on the verge of tears. Daion sighed. He had done what he thought was right, but it still didn't help. He felt pathetic—yet he wouldn't let that consume him. The only way to help was to see the deal through.
"I won't die. I had to go to the frontier anyway, so I promise you, I'll fight until my last breath. Will I likely die? Yes… but if there's even a chance…"
Selka raised her eyes, tears shimmering. Her posture softened. Daion gave her a confident smile, trying to reassure her.
"Between condemning yourselves now and betting on the slim chance I succeed… which would you rather choose?"
He moved toward the door. Selka stared at him in disbelief, not really convinced; all she could do was glare at the table in frustration, forced to place her hopes on an idiot she'd barely met. What great luck.
"Nice speech," Loryn mocked, leaning close to his ear. "Be honest—you're just doing this to get her into bed."
Daion shoved him away, annoyed. Loryn only chuckled with smug satisfaction.
They stepped out of the tavern and saw Seraphine already directing her men, ordering them to settle in the village for the night. They would leave in the morning. Soldiers set up tents without question, pushing aside passing villagers, while a few stood watch. The Invoked simply sprawled on the ground.
Daion frowned, both irritated and nostalgic.
"Well, where are we sleeping?" Loryn asked playfully.
"Asphalt's not exactly good for broken bones, is it?" Daion replied with dry sarcasm.
"Hey…" Selka called out. Both turned, confused. "I still owe you for saving my life. So come on—you can sleep here."
She pointed behind her. Daion and Loryn exchanged glances; there weren't many options, so they followed her. She cleared a table among the wounded, and the same demi-human from days ago brought them plates of food. Daion studied her; she looked calmer now, though after what she had witnessed, he wasn't so sure.
His eyes drifted over the wounded. Many remained unconscious, some with their families eating in silence, heads bowed. Others were alone. The saddest were those eating by themselves, staring into the void, questioning whether surviving had been worth it.
But there were also those eating with their families, celebrating life in spite of it all—laughing, sharing what little they had. They encouraged one another, even wounded, trying to find strength in the simple fact that they were still alive.
Daion wondered which one of those he had been in his previous life.
The night passed with heavy laughter and a few sips of alcohol, knowing that tomorrow there would be no time to breathe like this again.
End of Chapter 15.