Part - 1
Rahim marched toward the staff that was still impaled in the earth, cursing under his breath.
"What the fuck was that?!" he barked, gripping the wood with both hands. He pulled with all his strength, veins rising on his arms, but the staff didn't move an inch.
"What the hell…?" he muttered, straining again. Nothing.
Before he could curse further, a shadow dropped from the treetops. An old man landed squarely on the staff, his weight making Rahim stumble back and fall on his ass in shock.
The newcomer was tall and lean, his long white beard swaying in the wind, hair equally long and unkempt yet somehow regal. His sharp eyes scanned the group as he stood effortlessly balanced on the staff.
His voice cracked through the silence, sharp and commanding.
"Why the hell are you hunting in these woods? Who gave you leave to tread here?"
Rahim jumped to his feet, anger flaring.
"The fuck did you just say, old man? We'll do what we want. Get lost before I…"
But he didn't get to finish. The old man leapt down from the staff, pulling it free from the ground as if it were lodged in sand. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Rahim. None of them even saw him move.
With a casual motion, he tapped Rahim's ribs with the head of the staff.
It wasn't a strike, not really, just a gentle push.
Rahim's body flew back like a ragdoll. He would've crashed into a tree if Orren hadn't stepped forward and caught him by the collar.
"Brat," Orren muttered, shaking his head, setting Rahim down roughly.
The rest of the group instantly went on guard. Velra's rapier flashed into her hand, Selvara's pale fingers curled with sorcerous tension, Nadir's eyes were calculating the distance. Even Lethan had stiffened, clearly realizing they had stumbled onto someone far above their league.
Orren, however, raised his voice from behind them.
"Stand down. You can't fight him."
He stepped forward, his sword still sheathed, his tone more serious than usual.
"Old man… did you forget me already?"
The stranger tilted his head, peering closely at him. His brows knitted.
"I don't know you. Who are you supposed to be?"
Orren's jaw tightened.
"It's me. Orren Zahad."
The old man paused, then his eyes lit up with recognition.
"Ohhh… hahahah!" His laugh boomed through the forest. "You're that snot-nosed brat from Zahakar! The kid who cried every time I beat him down!"
He slapped his knee, laughing so hard he bent forward. "Gods above, I remember! You challenged me every damn day, and I'd thrash you till you were half-dead! Hahaha! You were pathetic!"
Orren's face darkened. His fists clenched, a vein twitched in his forehead. But he didn't move. He didn't even draw his sword.
Rahim, still sore from being tossed, blinked at the sight.
"…wait. Did I just see that right? Old man's calling him a crying brat and he's not snapping?"
Nadir gave Rahim a sidelong glance, whispering.
"Yeah. That's… new. He'd normally kill anyone who spoke half as much."
Velra's rapier lowered slightly, her eyes narrowing. She had never seen Orren take an insult in silence. Selvara, meanwhile, studied Orren with growing intrigue.
The old man stopped laughing and clasped Orren's shoulder, still grinning.
"So? How are you now, boy? Any good yet? Or would I still eat you alive?"
Orren's teeth ground together, but he gave a sharp nod.
"…I've improved."
Before anyone could react, Lethan spoke up, unable to contain himself.
"Wait… is this him? The one we came for? Is he the Weaponmaster?"
His question made Velra and Selvara pause. Eyes turned toward Orren.
Orren opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Lethan addressed the old man directly, bowing his head slightly.
"Sir… forgive the intrusion. But… are you Ser Drosvain Marr, the Weaponmaster?"
The old man raised a brow, looking from Lethan to Orren and back. Then he let out a chuckle.
"Hah! You're looking for Master Marr, are you?"
At that, Velra and Selvara both stiffened in shock, their mouths parting.
"The… Weaponmaster?" Selvara whispered, her pale face draining of color.
Velra glared at Orren. "You bastard. You didn't think to mention this detail before?"
Orren turned his head away, refusing to meet their eyes, as if fascinated by the treeline.
Nadir muttered, "…figures."
The old man chuckled again, shifting the staff to his shoulder.
"No, boy. I'm not Marr. Just a man passing through, I had a business of my own with Master Marr . The Weaponmaster's hut is further ahead. If it's him you want, you'll find him there. Well, if I can ask why do you need him?"
Lethan bowed again, relief in his voice.
"Thank you, elder. I carry a message for him, from the Great Library of Mnemonrae."
At the mention of the Great Library, the old man's expression flickered with interest before he barked out another laugh.
"Mnemonrae, eh? Big names, heavy business. Well then, don't waste time with me. Go on. I've got my own road home."
And with that, he stepped off the path, fading into the forest with staff resting against his shoulder, gone as suddenly as he appeared.
The silence left behind was heavy.
Rahim groaned, clutching his ribs.
"Fucking hell… what the fuck was that?"
Orren exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowed.
"Well…"
Part - 2
"What he was… Jurok the Staff Hermit?" Velra's voice was a mix of shock and awe.
Everyone, Lethan, Selvara, Rahim, and even Nadir—paused. Orren's expression was calm, almost amused.
"How do you know him?" Velra asked, eyes wide.
Orren leaned back, a shadow of a smile on his face. "It's a long story," he said. "But trust me, you'll tell you soon enough."
Selvara gasped, her fingers tightening around her robes. "The Staff Hermit? I know him! From my childhood! He was… he was incredible, and handsome back then. I saw him at the Velmora martial tournament once. I… I would've taken his autograph if I could!"
Velra rolled her eyes at Selvara, half-amused, half-jealous.
"Shut up!" Orren barked, "We're here to meet Drosvain. You'll get your stories later."
Both Selvara and Velra blinked, the reality hitting them. They hadn't even realized how high-level this mission was, they were here to meet the Weaponmaster.
"What the hell? Why didn't you tell us the mission before?" Velra muttered under her breath.
"Silence," Orren growled. "If anyone's thinking of going back because it's scary… you're welcome to leave now."
Both women looked at each other, weighing the option. Then, almost simultaneously, they shook their heads.
"No way," Selvara said firmly. "Seeing the fourth strongest in the realm is not something you get to do every day."
Velra added, "Besides, I didn't come this far to back down."
Orren turned his gaze toward Lethan, who nodded.
"Well," Orren said, voice low but steady, "he's not fourth strongest anymore. He's sixth. That's what we're here to tell him."
Velra's eyes widened, and Selvara's hand unconsciously tightened. Both girls felt a flicker of fear—the thought of facing someone who could annihilate villages and even entire islands was unnerving.
"I can always escape if it gets too dangerous," Selvara murmured, but her tone was unconvincing even to herself.
Velra, on the other hand, didn't care about danger. She wanted to grow stronger, and curiosity about Drosvain Marr, who could very well be the mysterious man she had glimpsed at the Drunken Boar as no one had seen Weaponmaster's face, kept her rooted in place.
"I'm not going back," Velra said.
"Neither am I," Selvara echoed.
Rahim, seeing their resolve, grinned. "Now that's more like it! A little adventure never hurt anyone, right?"
Lethan, still processing, muttered, "So… he lives here, huh? I hope we survive this."
Orren smirked. "You will. Mostly. Keep your heads clear and follow instructions."
Selvara whispered under her breath, "This is going to be… interesting."
Lethan added nervously, "I should've stayed in the library. Why me…?."
Rahim rolled his eyes. "Library's boring, kid. Adventure's where it's at."
Orren shook his head, muttering, "Brats…"
The group exchanged looks, the weight of the upcoming encounter settling on them. They were about to step into the lair of someone whose name inspired awe, and terror in every corner of the realm.
End of Chapter.