The stars were still bright when Elior crossed the border stones.
No guards. No trumpets.
Just the crunch of gravel under his worn boots and the sudden, shocking silence of the world around him
He walked until the sky turned pale gold.
The road narrowed into a dusty trade path, weeds pushing through cracked stones.
Abandoned mile-markers leaned like drunks.
Volradis had swallowed all the traffic years ago; no one left the city anymore.
Elior's legs burned, but he kept moving.
Swoosh.
╠═ Heavenly System ═╣
Main Quest Updated
"Pilgrimage – Day 1"
Distance traveled: 11 miles
Objective: Reach the ruins of Beth-Aven by the seventh sunrise
Reward on arrival: Awakening Stage 2 + ???
Hidden Condition: Do not turn back.
A small golden waypoint shimmered far ahead on the horizon, faint as a candle.
Elior exhaled a laugh that sounded more like a sob.
"Seven days. Got it."
He walked.
Hours bled together.
The sun climbed, fierce and merciless.
His waterskin grew light too fast.
By late afternoon the path dipped into a dry riverbed lined with dead trees.
Their branches looked like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky.
He was refilling his skin from a tiny, muddy seep when the panel flashed crimson.
╠═ Heavenly System ═╣
Warning
Unclean presence approaching
Threat level: D
Pack of "Grave Jackals" – 5 entities
They hunt the despairing.
Elior's hand flew to the wooden cross at his neck.
It flared, lengthening into the familiar sword of light.
Five shapes slunk from the shadows of the dead trees hyena-like things, but their skin was grey grave-soil, eyes empty sockets leaking black tears.
They circled around him, growling voraciously
Elior's heart hammered, but the two feathers on his chest burned steady.
He raised the blade.
"Be gone.. In the name of Jesus, I said be gone!"
White fire lashed out.
Three jackals yelped and crumbled into ash mid-leap.
The last two lunged.
He swung—clumsy, desperate, but the blade sank through.
One more jackal bursts into flame.
The final jackal clamped jaws on his left forearm.
Pain exploded.
He screamed, drove the sword down through its skull.
Everything went quiet.
The creatures were gone.
Only scorched sand remained.
╠═ Heavenly System ═╣
Combat complete
+320 Exp
Level 2 - Level 3
New title: "Wilderness Wanderer"
Skill unlocked: "Healing Touch" (Lv.1)
HP: 37/110 (bleeding)
Elior dropped to his knees, blood dripping between his fingers.
He pressed his glowing right hand to the torn arm.
Warm light flowed.
Flesh knitted. Pain faded to a dull throb.
HP: 92/110 - 110/110
He laughed once, shaky and wild, then looked at the sky.
"Still with me, huh?"
The sun was setting, painting the dead river red and gold.
He drank the last of his water, stood, and kept walking.
Night One on the road.
Elior tightened his grip on the little cross that had become a sword, then on the road again.
One foot.
Then the other.
The wilderness was vast, and he was only getting started.
________________________________________
**Cut Scene – Volradis, the Same Night**
The city slept uneasily under a moon the color of old blood.
In the central square, the stake still smoldered.
Charred ropes hung limp.
A few ashes drifted on the wind like black snow.
High on the cathedral balcony, a figure in crimson priestly robes watched the dying embers.
His face was hidden beneath a golden mask shaped like a weeping sun.
Behind him, shadows moved though nothing cast them.
A low voice, smooth as oil, spoke from the darkness.
"She is gone.
The girl played her part perfectly."
The priest did not turn.
"She confessed beautifully," he answered, voice hollow behind the mask.
"The people needed a witch. We gave them one."
A second shadow uncoiled from the wall—taller, horned, eyes like dying coals.
"And the boy?" it rasped. "The one who smelled of new fire. He left the city before sunset."
The priest's gloved fingers tightened on the stone railing.
"Then the wilderness will finish what the stake began."
A pause.
"Or it will forge him into something worse."
The horned shadow grinned, teeth too many and too sharp.
"Either way, the Accuser is pleased."
The priest finally turned.
The weeping-sun mask caught the moonlight, turning the golden tears into rivers of blood.
"Prepare the next offering," he whispered.
"The old gates are stirring again.
We will need more fuel before the seventh dawn."
The shadows bowed, melting back into the cathedral's stones.
Volradis slept on,
dreaming of smoke and screaming,
while the ashes of an innocent girl cooled in the dark.
Far from there stood peter gazing at the shimmering sky with Elior's letter in his hands and with a sigh he slowly says
".....Be safe wherever you're Elior"