Fortunately, they had gone to bed early, so it wasn't hard to wake up the next morning. The suns hadn't even risen over the horizon when Daion staggered to his feet, searching for the least painful way to move forward. He was grateful to that god for granting him the relief spell.
Loryn had slept on the floor, leaning against the wall. Daion might have offered him a blanket during the night, but he remembered how, while he had been fighting, the damned bastard had been watching from a safe place. So instead, he kicked his legs, breaking his posture, and Loryn's head almost smashed against the floor. He stood up, glaring at Daion, but Daion ignored him as he gathered his things.
He put on the new armor—at least now he looked like a real warrior. Both pauldrons were rounded, covering his chest and part of his abdomen. It was slightly heavier, but he got used to it almost instantly. Then he threw on his jacket, which partly covered its style.
Loryn covered his face again, though a few strands of hair escaped by accident. He wore his long coat and carried a worn-out cloth bag.
As they walked down the hallway, Daion glanced into Kael's room. The man was sleeping heavily, though it didn't seem like it was peaceful rest. Daion sighed and went down the stairs.
They left the tavern carefully, making sure not to wake the wounded. A few people who were already awake noticed them, but paid them no mind. Outside, they saw that the soldiers and their camp had completely vanished. How the hell did they take down the whole camp without waking us up? Daion wondered as they approached the remains of the bonfire.
Beside it lay a board with a message written on it: "See you at the border, son of a bitch. Kisses, Seraphine."
Daion smiled irritably and hurled the board against a wall, shattering it. Loryn looked at him with amusement. They both continued toward the gates of SteelWall, where, to their surprise, Selka was waiting. She had a cigarette in hand and was staring at the forest with a wary expression. She turned to see the summoned ones approach, gave a tired smile, and looked down as she placed the butt between her lips. Another bag, similar to Loryn's, sat at her side.
"The bag's full of food. You should reach Cadenar in a couple of days," she said, handing it to Daion. He slung it over his shoulder with ease and smiled. "I hope you survive."
"Truly inspiring words," Daion muttered through his teeth. Selka gave him a look, sighed, and extended her hand. Daion took it.
The two summoned hurried away from the town as the sun rose. Daion glanced at the interface. The god's relief effect marked two days. There was no way they'd make it in time.
The journey itself passed without trouble. Much like when he had first arrived in this world, the creatures seemed to avoid them. Daion spotted beings that defied the biology he knew.
First came a lone two-headed bear, with a unicorn-like horn and saber teeth jutting out in a terrifying way. Then came ants the size of rats, with sharp snouts and spiny exoskeletons. They also saw deer with antlers branching into multiple sharp tips at the front—clearly not easy prey. But what shocked Daion the most was a shadowy-furred figure, the size of a car. Its reddish eyes were deformed and stretched, its body thin compared to its size, its elongated snout bristling with protruding fangs. Daion recalled hearing stories of beasts like this and even felt the strange urge to pet it—until he remembered the Corrupt he had faced earlier and decided to keep his distance from canines for a while.
"The wildlife here is incredible."
"It's called a Beast Wolf. They're tamable," Loryn said. Daion's eyes lit up. "But that also means the Corrupt use them, so you'll have to kill a few." The light vanished from Daion's eyes, and he could swear Loryn was smiling under the cloth. "The flora's amazing too, though summoned ones usually overlook it."
In a way, he was right. If you didn't look closely, it was easy to be dazzled by the animals. Daion noticed white-colored trees with faint spots, growing in spiral shapes. Their immense size gave them a strange, beautiful form. He also saw some mushrooms sprouting from the ground—nothing remarkable at first, until Loryn warned him not to get close. One of the butterflies Daion had seen on his first day fell erratically onto one of the fungi, and the mushroom split open, devouring it without issue.
That night, they made a fire. Daion noticed it only took a few sparks to ignite and that the wood burned much slower.
Probably because of the oxygen levels, Daion deduced, remembering how he had suffocated when he first arrived, until the gauntlet adapted his body.
"If I lose the gauntlet…" Daion began, glancing at Loryn while the latter stoked the fire. "What would happen to my body?"
"It depends," Loryn replied. "I've only seen it a couple of times."
"Depends on what?"
"On how you lose it." Loryn sat on the ground and pulled a piece of meat from his bag, placing it near the fire. "If they tear it off, you die, because your body stops being fit for this world. Unless—maybe—your original world has similar environmental conditions, you might adapt. If the stone shatters, you'll release all the Omega energy stored inside, and collapse into yourself like a supernova. Or, if your body is strong enough, you might wrap yourself in Omega energy and unleash immense power for a few minutes… until it burns out, and you die."
Daion nodded, thinking about how impractical it was that the source of his survival was in such a visible spot—the palm. Although, to be fair, it was also hard to strike it precisely in battle.
"Can I ask you something?" Loryn said, glancing at him while pulling the meat from the fire, slightly browned. He tossed Daion a piece.
"Sure. I guess we're companions now," Daion replied.
"You still don't remember anything about your past, do you?"
"Only fragments. Though according to the Primordial, they're probably distorted…" Daion lifted his gaze, confused. "How do you know about that?"
"You told me," Loryn assured him. Daion wasn't so sure, but sighed—maybe he had just been rambling.
"You said you didn't want to be anyone's guide. So why are you following me?" Daion asked.
Loryn looked up, thought for a moment, then smiled with irony.
"There's no relevant reason. I've spent about thirty years in this world, and look at me: I still look eighteen. Thirty years of seeing Summoned, civil wars, Corrupts, the powerful crushing the weak… always the same boring play. You, on the other hand, entertain me: a hypocrite who doesn't even realize he is one."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Daion growled.
"I don't know if you do it to atone for your past, for glory, or because you think you're worth more than others. That doubt intrigues me."
"I don't have a hero complex."
"Of course you do. Do you know how I tell a real hero apart from someone with a hero complex? By their simple choices—when there's nothing to gain."
"…"
"The SteelWall debt, for example. It's still unresolved and depends on what happens at the frontier. You weren't risking nothing by going—you'd have to head to the frontier regardless; you just wrapped the trip in the promise of a generous reward so you could be seen as the savior. If you fail, nothing really changes: Seraphine keeps her leverage and the village remains at risk. But if you succeed, you'll be the hero. Where's the sacrifice in that?"
"I saved SteelWall two days ago."
"For morality's sake? Or to sleep easier after killing those two men? Did you do it for them… or for yourself? This isn't your world, you have nothing worth living for here when you already know you died, no memory telling you it's worth it. So risking a life granted by divine whim doesn't mean much. Tell me—haven't you ever wondered why you don't remember anything?"
Daion froze. His silence gave him away. He lowered his head, biting his lip.
"You can keep pretending, Daion. But the time will come when you'll have to choose: either accept that you're a hypocrite, or pay the price a real hero pays. That comfortable middle ground of the reasoning hero doesn't exist. And that's what makes watching you so amusing."
Daion couldn't reply. He wanted to believe Loryn was wrong—he was sure of it. But he had no way to contradict him. Loryn only smiled as he finished his meat, then lay down on the ground, leaving Daion with the first watch.
The second day passed almost the same, except Daion and Loryn didn't exchange a single word. Daion trudged forward heavily, feeling his wounds ache more and more. Good news: the pain was gradually returning, preventing him from dying of shock once the effect wore off. Bad news: it hurt like hell.
He kept glancing at Loryn, thinking about what he had said and about his past. The only thing he could know for sure was that he had been a soldier, had taken part in multiple operations. Beyond that… he wasn't certain.
They repeated the campfire, but this time Daion refused to eat. The pain was killing his appetite. He woke the next day to a notification:
"The effect 'Relief' will disappear in 5 seconds."
Daion jumped to his feet, but as he did, a wave of pain crashed through him, forcing him to writhe on the ground. He felt all his bones shift in ways they shouldn't, his muscles screaming as torn tissue rebuilt itself. On one hand, he was thankful to the god for sparing him this agony for three days. On the other, he wanted to kill him for not extending it longer.
Loryn had to put his arm around his shoulder just to keep him moving. They walked like that for a couple of hours.
"Come on, we should be just a few minutes away," Loryn said, encouraging Daion—ironically, after calling him a hypocrite.
It wasn't too hard to move like that, given that Loryn's strength at his level had to be far above Daion's. Stumbling and breathing heavily, Daion still managed to stay conscious by sheer willpower.
After several more meters, a strange noise froze them in place. They heard what sounded like erratic, fast-paced footsteps, closing in quickly. Daion tried to lift his arm toward his sword, but failed. Loryn, however, managed to raise his rifle and aim it with one hand.
The footsteps grew faster. And before they realized it, the figure was right in front of them. Out of the tall grass, a female figure appeared, moving on all fours. A demi-human, with large feline-like eyes, two pairs of ears sticking out from her short dark hair, her arms covered in fur, and her hands larger than a human's, each tipped with sharp, blade-like claws.
The moment she spotted their gloves and weapons, her fur bristled, her pupils shrank, and in an instant she leapt at Daion, slashing at him with her claws. Daion barely dodged by craning his neck, but a shallow cut grazed his cheek.
Loryn reacted quickly—he struck her in the abdomen with the butt of his rifle and flung her aside. The demi-human rolled across the ground until crashing against a tree. She let out a groan, clutching her side, and for the first time they could get a better look at her. She wore ragged clothes, a torn gray shirt and rolled-up pants of the same tone. Judging by her frame, Daion guessed she couldn't be older than twelve. She writhed on the ground, her ears twitching in confusion, then sprang up with feline agility and glared at them with raw fury.
Daion felt tempted to say something to calm her, but just then more footsteps echoed nearby. The demi-human looked up in fear and tried to run, but a net shot out from between the trees, entangling her. She froze, paralyzed, and collapsed to the ground.
Her body trembled faintly, as if it no longer responded to her. Though her expression was filled with anger, her eyes quivered with terror. A group of armed men appeared—yet they weren't soldiers. They wore flashy, colorful clothes and carried weapons of finer make than any SteelWall soldier's, laughing carelessly as they approached the girl. Then they noticed Daion and Loryn.
Their laughter ceased, but they didn't insult them or show disdain. They didn't even look surprised. They only lifted their gaze as if to say, "Oh, so you finally arrived." They bound the demi-human with ropes made of the same paralyzing thread as the net.
"Hey," said Daion. "Why are you doing this to her?"
The men looked up, tilting their heads with faint confusion.
"Oh, a rookie Invoked?" one of them asked, seemingly the leader. "Don't worry, we were only capturing a troublemaker causing disturbances. We just want to discipline her. I promise it'll be nothing that would inconvenience you."
Though his words were respectful, something in his tone made Daion's skin crawl.
"What are you looking for?" another of the men asked.
"Well, if it isn't obvious from his poor state of health, medicine for my friend," Loryn answered, pointing at Daion as he slung his rifle over his back.
The man forced a smile.
"In that case, come with us. The city is just a few steps away, and we can show you where to find medicine," said the leader with the polished grin of a merchant. There was no malice in his voice, making it easy to accept. "By the way, my name is Aron."
They walked through the forest with them, the girl carried like a sack of potatoes. She gritted her teeth, though she didn't seem to be in pain. Daion's gaze lingered curiously on the ropes binding her.
Soon the scenery changed. Houses began to appear, scattered at first, then growing denser. In the distance, a small city came into view. Unlike SteelWall, it was open, and its houses rose proudly. They were much taller and built with finer materials—polished stone, smooth timber, and freshly carved floors. On both sides, small mountains rose, and at their peaks, cannons stood ready to obliterate any Corrupt foolish enough to approach.
As they entered the city, people cast side glances at them, but it didn't seem to matter beyond a casual, "Look, another Invoked." It was a stark contrast to SteelWall, where they treated you as if you had just killed their dog. People here wore far finer, well-kept clothes, holding their heads high with a touch of arrogance. Still, a few in ragged clothes wandered about carrying bread or taking a rest from labor.
Daion noticed how the districts were laid out to avoid chaos. On the outskirts stood numerous forges for weapons and ammunition, as well as factories producing construction materials. As they went deeper, tall buildings emerged, seemingly divided into multiple apartments, with blue rooftops and wide windows.
Real shops appeared as well—not makeshift stalls, but buildings designed for selling food, crafts, and services. It was far more prosperous, though hard to understand why in such a decaying world. At the city center stood a massive sealed complex, connected only to a small church from which people entered and exited regularly. They even thought they saw another Invoked, but didn't focus on it.
Many people were followed by demi-humans carrying their belongings, tending to shops, or obeying commands. Daion remembered the waitress back in SteelWall and how she seemed forced to serve.
The townsfolk greeted Aron as if he were a familiar face, until they reached a three-story building. Hanging on one side was a sign depicting a dagger piercing a serpent. Daion frowned. What kind of medical symbol was that?
"Well then, it was a pleasure meeting you, Invoked. I hope you enjoy your stay in Cadenar," said Aron with a polite bow before leaving with the others. The girl seemed to have given up struggling.
The two stepped inside, where a smiling woman greeted them warmly, leading them swiftly to a room. She spoke in friendly tones as she assured them a doctor would be up shortly to tend to them.
"Why are people here so kind? I'm not complaining, but it's strange," he asked curiously.
"Ha, in a few moments you'll wish you'd never said that," Loryn replied, gazing out the window.
"Why?"
"It's just a hunch. Nobody would treat badly the ones who allow them to live comfortably," he said with an amused look.
"What do you—" Daion began, but the door opened and a man walked in with a bored expression. He wore plain civilian clothes, his hair messy. He glanced at Daion for a few seconds, and his eyes gleamed.
"How interesting… almost every single bone in your body is broken somehow. How are you even alive?" he asked with disdain. "Multiple organs damaged too, a concussion, but no brain injury… and traces of an internal hemorrhage, though it's already sealed."
"Great," was all Daion managed to say. Even Loryn looked surprised.
The man smiled faintly and pulled a large vial from his pocket. He scooped a spoonful of the thick fluid inside and handed it to Daion. Daion hesitated, but Loryn gave him a nod. With a sigh, he swallowed the concoction. He had expected the usual disgusting taste—like that candy they always gave him—but this one merely tasted like cough syrup.
He gulped it down without issue. After a few seconds, Daion felt a surge of energy coursing through him. His body tingled, bones shifting back into place as the pain dulled slightly—though it was still unbearable.
"Considering the accelerated metabolism of Invoked," the man closed the vial and handed it over to him, "take a sip every two hours. You should be fully healed in about a week and a half."
Just in time for when I reach the frontier, Daion thought, grateful that, for once, the world didn't seem eager to spit in his face.
"Three thousand vayls. Pay the nurse." The doctor left without another word.
"That's it? Just like that? Doesn't he worry I'll steal the medicine?" Daion asked.
"They don't care. A single message to the guard and the cannons would blow you to pieces," Loryn mocked. Daion nodded, oddly relieved.
"How much is three thousand vayls?"
"About half the pouch I gave you on the first day."
"That's three times the cost of my first armor!" Daion exclaimed. Loryn only shrugged.
Daion paid reluctantly. He had saved that pouch, hoping to use it for something epic. Leaving the hospital on shaky legs, they walked for a while. Daion wondered if they should stay the night to let his wounds settle further.
Then they crossed an open square, and Aron's voice rang out.
"People of Cadenar, I hope you're having a fine day!" he shouted, his voice projecting across the place. Daion and Loryn approached. Aron stood on a wooden platform, with the crowd watching expectantly. "Today we gather to fulfill the duties of our order."
I knew they dressed far better than simple villagers, Daion thought, though he still didn't know what they truly were.
"Our noble task of protecting and feeding the people, which we have upheld for decades." The crowd clapped in agreement. "As you all know, this noble duty comes with strict laws—and thus, exemplary punishments."
Wait a second… Daion's lips parted, realization dawning on him.
"And so, today we are bound to the painful duty of enforcing them." Aron clapped his hands. Two men came up behind him, dragging along the girl from earlier. She struggled desperately, but a muzzle silenced her and iron cuffs bound her wrists, leaving her defenseless. "Please, allow me to present one of the noble souls who serve in our fight against corruption."
They threw her to the ground, forcing her head down against the wooden platform.
"This woman tried to escape her service to the people. Please bow your heads in respect for this wayward slave," Aron declared, and the villagers obeyed.
Daion was stunned. Slaves. Of course. How could I have overlooked it? And now, before his eyes, a simple girl was being judged for trying to flee—a crime Daion instantly recognized the punishment for.
"And as the laws of the order dictate, the slave shall be executed as an example."
End of Chapter 16.