Lucian listened to Patches' story with mild astonishment. Of course, it wasn't the part about Morgott that surprised him.
When it came to Morgott, Lucian knew far more than the vast majority of people in the Lands Between. The truths Patches didn't even dare to guess at—Lucian had long since uncovered them. But none of that could be spoken aloud.
What truly caught his attention was the fact that the man who dealt with Omen children had personally witnessed both Morgott and Mohg breaking free. That was witnessing history in the flesh.
But the thing that shocked Lucian most… was the Cheheid family.
If his memory was right, this was a family that had been cut content in the game's development—a scrapped concept. The Cheheid patriarch was fiercely proud of Leyndell and the Golden Order's rule. They could be called Leyndell's "true yellow banner."
And yet, here in this world, they actually existed—specializing in the handling of Omen children, no less.
It fit perfectly with the scraps of lore from that abandoned concept: the Cheheid detested Omen children.
A scrapped family appearing here—this was no trivial matter.
This meant Lucian had a chance to obtain things that didn't exist in the game: special items, information on unknown lands, and secrets of history. The arrival of these "cut" elements brought with them endless, uncharted possibilities.
Lucian thought for a moment, then looked to Patches.
"Is that man still alive?" he asked. "And did he say anything else about the Cheheid family?"
Patches shook his head. "He's already dead, and there's nothing more to ask from him."
"Tch… shame."
Lucian had wanted to probe further into the Cheheid, but since the man was dead, there was nothing for it. He would simply investigate when he eventually reached Leyndell.
Patches took the chance to hawk some of his other wares. Lucian glanced over them—mostly odds and ends, nothing of real use.
In the end, he spent a few more runes, buying a Stonesword Key and a handful of Fan Daggers. Patches even tossed in a few Gold-Pickled Fowl Foot as a "snack". Touching, in its own strange way.
He also mentioned that he was thinking of hanging up his bandit's boots for good. Too dangerous a line of work. Maybe he'd become a proper merchant instead—open up shop and make a living, and perhaps Lucian could "patronize" his business now and then.
Patches saw him to the cave's entrance, making no move to follow.
"Farewell, big customer. Good luck taking down that Fell Omen."
"Goodbye. I hope your business flourishes—may you open branches all over the place."
After parting ways, Lucian mounted Torrent and rode back to the place where he'd met Nerijus earlier.
At the moment, Anogo still sat atop his little mule, keeping a wary eye on Yura. Yura, however, was now seated on top of Nerijus himself.
More than that—Nerijus' hands were crossed over each other, pinned to the ground by Yura's katana.
The Bloody Finger's mouth spewed curses at Yura, his body occasionally arching in an attempt to throw the man off. But it was useless—Yura remained firmly in place.
It seemed Nerijus had regained consciousness once, only to be subdued again.
When Lucian returned, Yura rose from atop Nerijus and strode over to meet him.
Lucian dismounted, gesturing to the man pinned to the dirt. "He woke up just now?"
Yura nodded. "He tried to run. I crippled his hands with my sword."
Lucian walked up to Nerijus and crouched down. The Bloody Finger was still conscious, glaring at Lucian with eyes full of hatred.
Lucian was unmoved, his voice cold. "Why did you become a Bloody Finger? And who brought you into the Moghwyn Dynasty?"
Nerijus began to laugh—wild, unhinged laughter.
"Ahahahaha! Because I want to! The blood, the agony!"
"Only when I slowly butcher the feeble Tarnished can I truly feel my power!"
Lucian frowned. This was not what he wanted to hear—he needed information.
He grabbed Nerijus by the head and slammed it into the ground. But Nerijus refused to speak.
Such treatment might work on ordinary captives, but for a Bloody Fingers—a man who reveled in cruelty and blood magic—it was meaningless.
To Nerijus, Lucian was strong, yes—but too soft. Someone who wouldn't even truly torture him after facing a murderer like him… his thirst for blood was far too weak.
Yura stepped forward, twisting the hilt of his sword back and forth.The blade embedded in Nerijus' hands tore through flesh bit by bit.
"AAAH—Aahhh!"
"Heh. Is that all you've got?" Yura sneered.
He drew a small knife, tapping Lucian on the shoulder. "What comes next is… a bit cruel. I don't think you'll want to watch."
"Tell me what you want to ask. I'll interrogate him for you."
Lucian eyed the knife—it wasn't sharp. If anything, it looked unpleasantly dull. He didn't know exactly what Yura planned to do, but he could guess it would be bloody. And painful.
"Then I'll leave it to you. I only have those two questions. If you've got anything you want to ask, feel free."
Lucian turned his head away, refusing to watch.
Yura nodded. Once Lucian had looked away, he slowly slid the knife toward Nerijus' eyelid.
"What are you doing?! No—aaahhh!"
Nerijus thrashed wildly, but Yura's grip on his face was like an iron vice.
The screams were enough to make Lucian's skin crawl, but Yura was utterly unaffected.
The Bloody Finger Hunters had long understood—mere defense was useless against such monsters. To protect their kin, they had to become more brutal than the Bloody Fingers themselves.
When a hunter caught one, they would use any means necessary to extract the whereabouts of others. Better to find and kill them before they slaughtered more Tarnished.
As a hunter, Yura had long since discarded hesitation. If cruelty could save lives, then there was nothing to waver over.
And when the victim was one of these blood-drenched killers… it was simply evil meeting its due end.
It didn't take long for Nerijus to break.
"Stop! Stop, just kill me! Aaagh! Ghh—kill me!"
Yura ignored him. He wanted answers, not begging.
A little while later, Nerijus completely collapsed.The man notorious for slaughtering the weak now sobbed like a helpless child, tears and spit streaking his face.
"I'll talk! I'll tell you everything! Just stop!"
Yura finally paused, the knife pressed to Nerijus' cheek.
"Why did you become a Bloody Finger? Who brought you into the Moghwyn Dynasty?"
"And the others—especially the 'Violet Bloody Finger' Eleonora. Tell me where she is. Every detail. Now."