Despite the faint swamp stench seeping into the very cracks of the cobblestones, the Worm Outpost was brightly lit that night.
After spending days burying the dead, patching up the injured, and mourning the disaster, the festivities and celebrations lifted spirits that had sagged under the weight of loss.
Candles flickered in front of every shop, their warm glow pushing back the darkness. The largest celebration was held in the grand hall of the Guild State branch in the southern part of the outpost.
"Grand" was a generous term.
In the cramped space, guests bumped into each other regularly as they sang and danced after intoxicating themselves with drink and relief.
On a balcony overlooking the main floor, Amber and Valen leaned against the railing, each holding a mug of the popular Swamp's Edge Ale. The brew tasted faintly of peat and wild herbs, sharp enough to cut through the lingering fatigue.
Below them, the crowd swayed and roared.
"Grand-aunt is not from the Lumis family bloodline," Amber said, continuing a rambling explanation she had been carrying on for some time now. "She married into the royal family."
The three sitting at the small table near them on the balcony listened with varying degrees of attention.
Elara leaned forward, clearly invested in the gossip about nobles and royalty. She carried the conversation with Amber, asking pointed questions about succession laws and marriage alliances.
Raylan was busy devouring a plate of roasted monster meat, chewing methodically while occasionally nodding at whatever Amber said.
Marcus listened attentively, his gaze flicking between Amber and Raylan as he held his own quiet conversation with the latter in between bites.
Valen leaned back and tuned them out.
Instead, he sorted through the information Iris had been gathering all evening—snippets of conversation from the hall below, overheard while her hidden constructs perched in the cracks and shadows.
Apparently, Dawn Forest had once been part of the capital territory of an ancient kingdom called the Dawn Kingdom, which had ruled this land before the Radiant Empire ever rose.
The king of that era had chosen the path of undeath, seeking ultimate power. In doing so, he turned most of his kingdom into undead minions.
Eventually, a hero emerged. The king was sealed, his undead army destroyed. The hero's descendants became the founders of the Radiant Empire.
"Master," Iris said quietly in his mind, "you might have touched the seal of that undead king."
Valen sipped his ale.
"It is fortunate we retreated in time," he replied.
"Indeed. That lich likely gained enough sustenance from devouring the Rank 7 Dark Guild leader to survive for a few more centuries."
"The Ashen Witch did not interfere with the process," Valen noted. "Perhaps there is some benefit in keeping that lich sealed below."
"Master," Iris said, her tone brightening, "we have much to learn and explore in this world."
She gave him an excited smile—visible only to his eyes.
Valen smiled as well.
"What are you smiling about?" Amber's voice pulled him back. She was watching him, her expression unreadable. "You have not finished your Swamp's Edge Ale."
"Cousin Valen, drink up!" Marcus chimed in from the table, raising his own mug.
Valen lifted his drink and clinked it against Amber's.
He drained the ale in one long pull, then signaled the waiter for another.
Everybody cheered.
"Come," Amber said, pulling his arm. "Let us dance."
She dragged him down to the crowded floor below.
The musicians hurried their tempo as the two of them joined the throng. They danced as much as the cramped space allowed, weaving between other pairs, dodging elbows and spilled drinks.
While they moved, Valen noticed something on the first floor.
Kale and his party had approached the trio's table. Words were exchanged—sharp ones, judging by the tightness in Elara's posture and the way Marcus leaned back slightly, assessing.
Standard protagonist confrontation.
From the packed dance floor, it was difficult to see clearly.
Amber danced on, oblivious.
But the Iris constructs hidden between the cracks in the ceiling and floor observed carefully, recording every word, every gesture.
Fortunately, there was no escalation.
The evening passed without major incident. A few drunkards tussled and fought, but nothing the guards could not manage.
The next day, most of the survivors prepared to depart from Dawn Forest.
The trio—Marcus, Raylan, and Elara—asked to join Amber and Valen on the journey back.
Valen could not come up with a reasonable excuse to reject them.
Much to his dismay, they traveled together.
On the first day, they crossed the Stinky River without incident.
To Valen's relief, there were no accidents—though monster attacks were frequent enough to slow their pace. By evening, they had to set up camp on high ground near a stream.
Amber had been quieter during the day.
She did not take much initiative to fight, leaving Valen to deal with most threats that came their way. She moved through the day like someone going through familiar motions without truly engaging.
Now, she sat slumped in a cozy chair Valen had shaped from vines, sipping soup he had cooked over the fire.
"What do you think is the problem, Iris?" Valen asked silently.
"Master, my best guess is that she is slightly traumatized and weary of violence."
Valen considered that.
"She asked me how I was not shaken by the events," he said. "I did not think deeply about her feelings behind that question."
"That is natural, Master. But try to be more perceptive from now on."
"What can I do to help her?"
"Master, you will most likely be unable to help her. She must overcome it on her own. She needs to come to terms with her strengths and weaknesses, realize the dangers of her trade, and make peace with it."
Valen glanced at the trio, who were playing cards among themselves nearby.
Amber had refused to join them.
So Valen had chosen to sit close to her instead, sipping soup in quiet companionship.
"How come the others are not affected?" he asked.
"Everybody has different life experiences, different levels of resilience, different ways to cope with existential threats of that magnitude," Iris explained. "Perhaps Amber was not exposed to the darkness of the world in the same way. Being a beloved princess, she was most likely raised with a gentler version of reality."
Valen turned to look at Amber.
"Need a refill?" he asked.
She nodded without speaking.
He poured the remainder of his soup into her bowl. There was none left in the pot.
She looked at him plainly for a moment, then resumed eating.
The night was long, and the forest came alive with distant calls and rustling leaves.
Valen volunteered to take the first watch and let everyone else sleep.
"Master," Iris said, "you can also rest. I will keep watch."
"Is it not risky for you to come out?"
"Master, I can possess some insects and control them to monitor the surroundings."
"Good idea."
Valen caught four fireflies and sent them out with Iris spirits embedded within. The tiny lights drifted into the darkness, spreading out to form a loose perimeter.
"Good night, Master."
"Good night, Iris."
Valen settled into his cozy chair made of vines, pulled his blanket over himself, and let the forest sounds wash over him.
Around midnight, Marcus replaced him.
Valen did not remember what happened after that and woke refreshed in his small tent.
Coming out of his tent, he saw Amber already awake but still not dressed. She was poking at the fire with a stick like a distracted child, prodding embers without purpose.
"You are usually ready before I wake," Valen called out. "Did you not sleep well?"
She turned her head quickly and glared at him—sharp, angry, for reasons he could not determine.
"It is all right," he said carefully. "Take your time."
He retreated into the forest to attend to his morning needs.
When Valen returned, Amber was dressed—but her hair remained tangled and her cloak sat unevenly on her shoulders. She still watched him with irritated eyes.
Elara emerged from her tent and paused, looking between them.
"What is wrong with her?" she asked quietly.
"I am just as confused as you are," Valen replied.
Sometime later, they broke camp and continued their journey.
Amber was more whimsical and moody as the day wore on.
In the early morning fog, they came across a Rank 2 ghost drifting through the mist—a pale, formless thing that flickered in and out of visibility.
Suddenly, Amber erupted with mana.
She tore her saber from its sheath and charged after the ghost, hacking at it wildly. Each swing passed through the spectral form without effect. Physical attacks could not harm spirits.
Neither could the ghost harm her—Valen had already wrapped her in a Spirit Ward.
Valen immediately knew something was wrong.
He caught up to her in a few strides, catching her wrist mid-swing. The trio arrived moments later.
"She is…" Valen pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "She is burning up."
Ordinary germs could not affect mages and warriors. They rarely fell sick unless exposed to an extraordinary plague or curse.
Amber's eyes were unfocused, glassy.
"You… you cannot…" she muttered, swaying. "I… you… never… never let you…"
Her words tangled, half-formed and slurred.
Valen was alarmed.
"She is delirious."
His mind raced through everything he had read in the Academy library—books on herbs, alchemical texts, etc
Nothing fit.
"I do not know how to help her," he admitted.
"Amber…" Elara moved to support her other arm, steadying her as she sagged.
Valen made a decision.
"You three, continue on the route as we discussed," he said. "I will take a shortcut and bring her to an experienced healer."
"But Master," Iris warned quietly, "doing so may risk exposing your endless mana."
"It is an emergency."
Valen swung his pack around to his chest and lifted Amber onto his back. He used his barrier magic to form thin, invisible straps that secured her upper body to his, keeping her stable.
Her head lolled against his shoulder, breath hot and uneven against his neck.
He crouched.
With a burst of will and mana, a column of earth surged up beneath his feet, launching him into the air like a slingshot.
Wind tore at his cloak as he flew upward, then forward, carried by momentum and guided by a second pillar that rose ahead to catch him.
Behind him, the trio stood dumbfounded, staring at the retreating figure vanishing into the forest canopy.
Marcus blinked.
"Did he just—"
"That was at least a dozen continuous earth spells," Elara whispered, voice full of disbelief.
Raylan scratched his head.
"Guess he really likes her."