I woke up to muffled voices that sounded urgent but not panicked. My head throbbed, and the world felt like it was spinning when I tried to concentrate. Warm air brushed against my skin, and I noticed flickering light from a nearby fire. It crackled softly, mixing with the quiet conversation of two people.
"Why didn't we just leave her in town? There was a healer, at least," said a man, his voice steady but with a hint of hesitation.
"Master, we can't just leave her. She's been through too much. We have to help her," replied a girl. She sounded younger, but there was strength in her words, showing she wouldn't back down from her decision.
The man sighed, sounding exhausted. "I know. I just didn't know what else to do."
"You should've been gentler with her," the girl said. Her voice was soft, yet strong, as if she was stating a fact rather than asking a question.
Their words faded in and out as I tried to gather my thoughts. I blinked slowly, attempting to shake off the fog. Everything hurt, but not in the way I expected. There was no burning or stabbing pain—just a dull ache that felt wrong.
As I focused on the voices, I saw them. First was the girl. She couldn't have been much older than me, maybe around my age. Her golden hair fell softly around her shoulders, glowing in the firelight. Her grey eyes made me feel safe in a way that was hard to explain. It was like watching a gentle storm—calm on the surface but with something deeper underneath. Her clothes were simple—a white blouse, red vest, black skirt, and black leggings—but they looked well made, as if someone skilled had crafted them. It felt unusual given the situation, yet she fit in a way I couldn't quite articulate.
Then I looked at the guy—Arden, I remembered. He seemed older, or at least he appeared that way. His dark skin blended into the shadows cast by the firelight, and he wore a black robe that made him almost disappear in the dark. His dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but I could still feel his focus. He had a presence that demanded respect without even trying—calm and authoritative, but not at all intimidating. The rings and bracelet on his wrist caught the light, revealing something about him that was hard to ignore.
I tried to move, to sit up, but my body felt heavy and slow. My limbs ached like I was wading through thick water—something felt off. I couldn't pinpoint it, but it was as if my body didn't feel right.
When I pushed myself up, both of them turned to look at me. The man didn't meet my gaze directly, but his attention was palpable. The girl smiled, and it made me feel a little better.
"You're awake!" she said gently. "We were getting worried. I'm Sora, and this is my companion, Arden. He saved you."
I glanced at Arden, trying to understand him. He looked like he was in his early twenties, but something about him felt older, as if he bore burdens most people didn't. There was an air of maturity about him. His short curly hair and stubble gave him a rugged look, but those sunglasses made it hard to read his expression. Yet there was a quiet power about him that made me feel small.
I swallowed hard, trying to get a grip, but everything felt tight. Too much was happening too fast. "Thank you," I whispered. It felt inadequate, but it was all I could muster.
Arden didn't respond verbally. He shifted slightly, as if concluding that moment. At first, I thought he was dismissing me, but then I saw something shimmer at his side—quick and soft, like pulling a thread out of the air. With a flick of his wrist, something small vanished into his hand. He didn't make a display of it—no explanation given. He just turned away again as if it was nothing, as if pulling things out of thin air was completely normal.
Sora leaned closer, her voice warm but steady. "It's okay. We'll take care of you. Just… rest for now, alright?"
Sure, rest. As if my mind wasn't racing.
"What happened to my village?" I asked, my throat dry and voice tight. I already had a sinking feeling. I had known since I woke up, but I needed to hear it. I wanted confirmation, hoping that would stop the echoes in my head.
Sora paused for too long. "I'm sorry," she finally said, and I could hear the crack in her voice. "It didn't make it. Everyone…" Her words trailed off, but she didn't need to finish. I understood.
The news didn't settle right with me. It felt like the words just floated there, unattached. I felt them, yet my mind refused to fully grasp it. Everyone? That couldn't be true. That wasn't supposed to happen. Villages burn; people run. Not everyone.
I stared into the fire for a while. I didn't even notice my hands were shaking at first. "That doesn't make sense," I muttered to myself. "They wouldn't… why would they even come? There's nothing to take. Nothing worth burning down. And ogres? Since when do ogres take orders from bandits?"
That had been nagging at me since I woke up—rattling around like a loose stone I couldn't shake loose.
Arden, still facing away from us, finally spoke. "They were being controlled."
I blinked. "What?"
"The ogres. The humans. Something bound them together—something they wouldn't have agreed to on their own."
He tapped the air as if drawing invisible lines. "It was magic. Dark. Forced. Not the kind you learn in books."
I swallowed hard. "So someone made them do it?"
"Most likely," he replied calmly, as if it were an obvious truth. "And they knew what they were doing. Whoever it was didn't just want to kill. They wanted to wipe that place off the map. No survivors."
My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't realized until now how cold I felt.
Sora hugged her knees to her chest, her voice quiet. "There's been signs. Weird activity. Monsters acting strange. It's not just your village."
"Then who?" I asked, not really expecting an answer. I just needed to say something.
No one responded.
Then Arden turned slightly and held something out to me—a small glass vial with pale green liquid swirling inside.
"Drink this," he said, his voice steady and calm but not cold.
I didn't move at first, staring at it like he had handed me a snake in a bottle.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice tighter than I wanted.
"A potion," he said simply. "It'll help with the pain. Restore your stamina and numb some of the bruising. It's safe."
I still didn't take it.
"If you're worried, check the bottom," he added. "There's a crest."
Hesitantly, I took the vial and tilted it enough to see underneath. Etched into the glass was a small emblem I didn't recognize—a stylized tree intertwined with a sword.
I blinked. "What's that?"
"Veridiana's official seal," Sora explained, scooting closer. "It means it was made legally. All real potions have it. There's even a trace dye inside that changes color if someone tampered with it. See the color at the bottom?" She pointed to a small blue stripe painted across the end of the vial. "That's the original color. If the potion turns that color, it's still safe. No poisons, no shady ingredients."
I stared at the vial for a moment longer before—very slowly—uncorking it.
"You don't have to trust us," Sora said gently. "But this part's okay."
I hesitated for another moment before I drank.
It was warm—slightly bitter but not unpleasant. The ache in my ribs eased almost immediately, as if something heavy had been lifted from my chest.
I exhaled, feeling shaky. "...Thanks," I muttered. Not because I trusted them—at least, not yet. But because maybe I didn't have to face everything alone in that moment.
Arden waved it off as if it were no big deal. "We were checking out a high-level dungeon nearby," he said casually. "Didn't make it in time. But we're here now."
A dungeon. Sure. Just add that to the list of strange words I didn't fully understand yet. Dungeons. Cults. Ogres working with bandits. None of this resembled the world I thought I knew.
I stared into the fire. The flames crackled softly, but my thoughts were louder. Why me? Why my village? If they were just passing by, then it really was all random, right? Wrong place, wrong time.
Arden stayed silent, merely sitting with his arms resting on his knees, tapping his fingers against the air as if playing with threads only he could see. I found myself watching him again, trying to figure out what he might be thinking behind those dark lenses.
The fire popped, and I flinched. Sora glanced at me and offered a small smile, as if she had seen it all before.
The silence stretched on, not peaceful or relaxed—just too quiet.
Arden's head tilted slightly, barely noticeable.
His fingers stopped moving.
His entire posture shifted—subtly, but unmistakably—from relaxed traveler to something sharper and coiled.
Then I noticed movement beyond the firelight—figures gliding through the shadows like dark specters. My breath hitched, and my heart pounded painfully against my ribs. These weren't just ordinary bandits. No, these were the same ones who had attacked my village—the humans cloaked in dark robes, their faces hidden behind eerie masks that gave them a cold, unnatural edge. The memory of their silent menace came rushing back like a tidal wave.
They were here.
"We're surrounded," Arden said casually, as if commenting on the weather.
Great. Just what I needed.
My stomach flipped, and I twisted toward the trees. There was nothing there. Just thick darkness and the crackle of our fire. No movement, no bandits lurking with dramatic weapons. Only silence—waiting for something to happen.
"Bandits?" Sora asked, her voice sharp but not surprised. She sounded annoyed more than scared, as if waking up to a bug in her bedroll.
Arden nodded. "Quite a few. They're lightly armored with swords and short bows. I can sense a stronger one holding back."
I blinked at him. "How do you even—"
He didn't answer. He rose silently, as if he hadn't been sitting for hours. Everything about him moved with purpose—he seemed to belong in a painting.
"Stay by the fire," he said over his shoulder. "Both of you."
Sora didn't argue. She folded her legs and remained exactly where she was, like all of this was part of the plan or a familiar routine.
I didn't argue either. There was something about him—how he moved—that made me feel like he'd faced this kind of situation countless times before and didn't feel like explaining it again.
The night held its breath.
Then everything went sideways.