Chapter 41: Earning Trust-I
I flicked another pebble.
Clack.
It bounced off the wall, fell to the floor, and joined the growing pile of what I had begun
calling my Rock Army. At this point I had enough stones to stage a coup against the local
pebble monarchy.
I stretched my legs out and leaned back on my elbows, staring up at the dark, ruined sky of
the Dark City. A steady, cold wind slid between the broken towers, humming faintly like a
spectral flute. Fitting accompaniment for my boredom-inspired performance.
I pursed my lips and whistled again — this time starting confidently with the opening line of
Take On Me.
doo-doo—doo-doo doo-doo—doo-doo doo-doo—doo-doo…
Unfortunately, confidence wasn't the same as talent.
My whistle cracked halfway, spiraled upward like a dying bat, then crashed straight into an
off-key catastrophe.
Huh, what do you know, maybe I do have a talent for writing after all.
I held up a hand solemnly.
"Moment of silence for that note. It didn't deserve to die this way."
The wind respected my request. Or maybe it was just awkward.
Either way, I grabbed another pebble, flicked it, and watched it topple off the wall without
making a sound.
"Terrible," I muttered. "Even the rocks are bored."
My eyes drifted over to the decapitated Statue of the Saintess — towering, headless, and
looming over the edge of the city like a disapproving aunt who caught you eating cookies
before dinner. The missing head had been tossed down somewhere into the abyss years ago
by the Nameless Sun, where it rested for eternity with the rest of the Starlight Seven.
I cleared my throat and tried singing again:
"I walked through hell to get this far…
and now I'm throwing rocks at—oh look, a scar…"
I glanced at the old gouge on the nearby wall, shrugged, and improvised:"Dark City blues, got nothin' to lose,
I'm singin' to myself 'cause I blew a fuse…"
"Beautiful," I whispered to myself. "Absolutely Grammy-worthy."
Then the shadow next to me twitched.
A moment later, Sasrir's head slid out of the darkness like a shark breaching water, followed
by the rest of him, stepping fully onto the cracked stone. His expression said he had heard at
least fifteen seconds of my singing and deeply regretted not waiting longer to emerge.
"It's done," he said, deadpan.
I brightened immediately. "Done done? Or 'I did half and then gave up' done?"
He raised a brow. "Done done."
"Oh, perfect." I sat up straight, clapping my hands once. "Sunny is going to lose his mind
when he finds it."
Sasrir paused. "You say that like it's a good thing."
"It is," I said proudly. "It means emotional reaction. That shows he's still human. I'm
practically doing him a favor."
Sasrir just stared.
I tossed another pebble. This one ricocheted against the wall and hit the decapitated
Saintess's foot.
"Nice," I said. "Bonus points."
He sighed. "I still don't see why asking me to carve that message into the ruins was
necessary."
"It wasn't," I admitted. "But imagine it: Sunny and the Cohort stroll into the Dark City
months from now, exhausted, depressed, dragging themselves through nightmare mobs… and
suddenly—"
I waved my hands dramatically through the air.
"BOOM. A mysterious, terrifying omen on the wall. Something cryptic. Something
ominous."
Sasrir blinked. "The first thing on the wall is a smiling stick figure holding a balloon."
"A scary smiling stick figure," I corrected.
"With a balloon."
"Exactly. It's the ambiguity that will haunt them."He rubbed his forehead. "I sometimes question whether you require monitoring."
"You do monitor me," I pointed out. "Constantly."
"Yes," Sasrir muttered. "And strangely, it doesn't help."
I laughed and flopped onto my back, arms spread wide. "What else am I supposed to do?
We're stuck here for a year and a half waiting for Nephis to show. Can't fight the Soul
Devourer, can't escape, can't even go sightseeing because the local attractions want to eat
me."
Sasrir sat down beside me with the resignation of a man accepting a lifelong burden. "There
are other ways to pass time."
"Like?"
"Training. Planning. Patrolling. Preparing for—"
"Booo-ring." I grabbed a pebble and tossed it upward. It bonked me on the forehead on the
way down. I graciously ignored it. "We'll do all that too. But if I don't find something stupid
to keep myself entertained, I'm going to start naming the monsters."
"You already named three of them," he reminded me.
"That's because they deserved names," I said defensively. "Knife-Hands Kevin had
personality."
"He also tried to disembowel you."
"See? Personality."
Sasrir exhaled sharply — the sound halfway between annoyance and suppressed amusement.
I flicked another pebble, letting silence settle for a few seconds before I asked, "So… how
long before Sunny and the Cohort get here?"
"Hard to predict exactly," Sasrir said. "But when they do…"
I grinned, eyes sparkling with completely unjustifiable pride. "They're going to see my
masterpiece."
Sasrir shook his head slowly. "You are irredeemable."
"Thank you," I said cheerfully. "High praise."
He sighed again — long-suffering, resigned, but unmistakably fond.
"Fine," he said. "What now?"
I hopped to my feet, dusting off my pants. "Now? We find more rocks.""Why?"
"So I can invent a sport called 'Saintess Pebble Golf.' I need to practice my swing."
Sasrir covered his face with one hand. "You're impossible."
"And you love it."
He didn't deny it.
Which meant I won.
Sasrir and I lingered near the crumbling ledge, the hollowed-out head of the Saintess' statue
staring blindly past us into the Dark City. A faint wind sighed through the empty streets—like
the city was trying to imitate me and failing even worse.
I flicked another stone into the gloom and quickly did the maths.
Clack.
"Nephis will be here in… what, a year and a half?" I said, as though casually observing
something mundane like the weather. "Do you think she'll still be all stoic and righteous
when she sees what this place is like? I'm honestly excited. It'll be like a reunion party, only
they don't know they're attending and don't know it's a reunion."
Sasrir's eyes narrowed; the shadows around him shifted like irritated serpents. "Don't go
thinking anything stupid. We wait for her. We give her the all the pointers she needs to storm
the Crimson Spire, and then we leave this godforsaken place." His voice was clipped, sharp.
"That was the plan."
"Yes, yes, the plan." I stretched my legs out in front of me, lying back and propping my
hands behind my head. "But we could… I don't know. Add a little… seasoning." I wiggled
my fingers. "Something entertaining. Something memorable. A little chaos never hurt
anyone."
"It hurt a great many people," Sasrir muttered. "That's literally what chaos does."
"Details," I said with a dismissive wave.
He stared at me, long and unimpressed. "What exactly are you planning?"
"Ohhh, nothing. Nothing serious." A grin crept up my face anyway. "Maybe I'll poke them a
bit. Shadow their steps. Drop a cryptic message or two in their path. Throw something deeply
traumatic at Sunny. You know—bonding activities. We did kill the Black Knight after all,
who will disembowl Sunny now?"
His expression didn't change, but the air around him darkened. Always a sign of disapproval.
"Or," I continued, more brightly, "I could go further. I could greet Sunny personally. Shake
his hand. Compliment his hair. Then enslave him through his True Name. You know, theusual dramatics. Wouldn't that be—"
"No."
His voice cut like a blade.
"Come on—"
"No." Firmer. "You do not enslave a person you have just met, who has never done anything
to you. Not unless they strike first. Not unless they force your hand. That is a threshold,
Adam." His gaze locked on mine, harder than the stones I'd been throwing. "What you
aretalking about is following the path of the Sovereigns, of Anvil and Song. And you are not
them."
I scoffed, rolling onto my side and plucking another pebble from the ground. "Why can't I
be? Doesn't lording over all of Humanity and being worshipped as living Demigod now
sound fun?"
"Because," Sasrir replied, "those who fall into the trap of easy pleasures often end up with
brutal deaths. I won't allow you to wallow your life away in decadence."
I flicked the stone—harder this time.
Clack.
"…You're so dramatic," I said. "Aren't you meant to be my negative side?"
"I am correct. And if you classify 'sensibility' as 'negative' then yes, I do."
"Annoying."
"That means it's working."
I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. "Fine. Fine. I won't enslave Sunny. Not right
away."
"Not at all."
"We'll negotiate."
He hissed through his teeth.
Before he could lecture, I cut in, "Look, Sasrir, I'm bored. Out of my mind. You can handle
looming stoically for twenty months, but I'm human. Humans do poorly with waiting. We
start… improvising."
"You throw rocks at walls and whistle off-key," he corrected.
"Exactly. And that gets old. Fast."He stared at me for a beat longer, then sighed—a sound like a thousand rotting doors
creaking open at once.
"There are ways to pass time without putting the future at risk," he said. "You could train."
"I did train. Yesterday."
"You worked for fifteen minutes."
"It was a concentrated fifteen."
"You took a nap afterward."
"A powerful nap. Mentally enriching."
He made a noise that bordered on a groan. "Now I understand how our parents must have felt
for sixteen years."
"And just like them, you love me anyways."
"…I tolerate you."
"High praise."
Despite everything, he stepped closer—close enough that his presence cast a faint,
comforting shadow over me. "Just… keep a lid on things, alright? You know you can trust
me," he said quietly.
I smirked, tipping my head back so I could see the overcast sky. "I trust you more than
anyone else in this world Sasrir, even more than myself."
I tossed another stone.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
And for a little while, the only sounds were falling pebbles and the broken whistle of
someone who really had nothing better to do.
I had just drawn back my arm for another throw when Sasrir froze.
Not visibly, because he didn't move like a normal person to begin with—he simply went
perfectly, utterly still. The shadows under his feet tightened with a low shiver, coiling inward
like a creature scenting blood.
I didn't need the warning.
"…What is it?" I asked, already letting the stone drop from my hand.
His head tilted, ever so slightly. Listener mode. His awareness spread out into the darkness
like ink in water.Something was coming.
"Movement," he murmured. "Northeast. Heavy. Wet. Not human."
My relaxation evaporated. All the harmless banter, all the lazy whistling… gone. It was like
someone snapped a cord inside me and replaced everything with cold, disciplined instinct.
Justice had activated.
I stood up, dusting off my palms, the weight of the Dark City settling differently on my
shoulders. "Distance?"
"Within five minutes."
Of course it was.
I stepped away from the ledge, eyes narrowing at the drowned streets below. The Dark City
liked to hide things—liked to mask sound, warp light, and twist shadows.
But even here, some monsters were too large to hide well.
And I soon saw it.
A ripple at first. Then a bulge in the murk. Then—
A form emerged from the half-collapsed alleyway, dragging itself forward with slow,
deliberate weight. Water dripped from its hunched shoulders in steady rivulets, like it had
crawled straight out of a submerged cavern.
It was tall. Taller than me, taller than Sasrir's humanoid form by a head or two. Its limbs were
long, gaunt, and uneven—as if they'd grown at different speeds and never quite matched.
Slick veiny skin stretched taut over a skeletal frame, webbed at the elbows and knees, pulsing
faintly like a heartbeat under sludge.
Its head—
…was wrong.
Too wide. Too smooth. No eyes.
Just a slanted ridge where a face should have been, twitching as if sniffing for prey through
nonexistent features. Its mouth hung half-open, jagged teeth jutting outward at crooked
angles, like pieces of shattered bone shoved into raw gum.
It made a sound.
A wet, bubbling croak that echoed off the drowned stone.
Sasrir exhaled softly. "Drowned Ghoul," he said. "A large one."
I grimaced. "Ah, I hate these fucks. They're always so smushy.""Do not underestimate it."
"I wasn't planning to. I've learnt that the hard way, remember?."
The creature lurched forward—slow but purposeful. Wretches hunted like blind crustaceans:
by vibration, by heat, by the scent of living flesh. It would pinpoint us any second.
I checked my footing, shifted my stance, felt my heartbeat steady into that familiar pre-fight
rhythm. Banter was gone. Whistling was gone. The Forgotten Shore had its fun, but combat
was a line I never crossed carelessly.
"Alright," I murmured. "Plan?"
Sasrir's shadows slid around him like ink gathering into a blade. "I distract. You finish."
"Fine. Fine. Let's kill the thing before more show up."
The Drowned Ghoul raised its head—if you could call that bulbous slab a head—and let out a
shrill, shuddering cry, the kind that vibrated in your ribs and made the ruined city itself sound
like it was groaning.
Then it charged.
Water splashed, stone cracked, and the air filled with the reek of something long dead yet
stubbornly moving.
I stepped forward to meet it, Steel Memento in one hand and the Unshadowed Crucifix in the
other.
Even bored people have priorities.
The Wretch lunged—fast. Much faster than anything that rotted and smelled like that should
be.
I stepped sideways just as its clawed arm smashed into the wall behind me, stone exploding
like brittle sand. Shards scraped my cheek. If that hit me squarely, I'd be pulp.
Sasrir was already moving.
His form unraveled into a streak of living shadow, slicing across the creature's legs. Tendrils
lashed upward, hooking into its tendons and dragging hard. The Wretch staggered, shrieking.
Good. Opening.
I darted in, sword already burning with essence.
It swung blindly, catching only empty air as I slid beneath its reach. Its claws carved a deep
gouge into the pavement where my head had just been. A hair slower and I'd be missing half
my torso.I slammed mmy blade into its ribcage.
Bone cracked. Skin split. The creature spasmed, jerking sideways with a horrible garbled
howl—half water, half something like a choking child.
It thrashed wildly.
Too wildly.
One of its limbs whipped out and clipped my shoulder—just a graze, but enough to spin me
and leave the blade embedded in the monster's side. Pain flashed hot down my arm. If that
had been direct…
"Move!" Sasrir barked.
I didn't need the reminder.
I ducked under another swipe, slipping behind the creature as Sasrir's shadows dragged at its
spine, wrenching its posture open. It tried to twist toward me, but its head couldn't quite
rotate this far.
Good.
I didn't give it a chance to learn how.
I summoned a second sword-longer and thinner this time-and drove it into the gap between
its shoulder blades hard. Essence flowed like a burning flood, bursting through brittle bone.
The creature convulsed violently, limbs shuddering as its spine gave with a wet crack. The
Enchantment activated, drawing upon the creature's death throes to grow stronger.
It collapsed forward, gasping like a drowning animal.
Not dead. Not yet.
These things never died politely.
I grabbed its twisted head, braced my feet, and slammed it into the stone.
Once.
Twice.
The third hit cracked the skull. Dark fluid splattered across the pavement like spilled ink.
The fourth made it stop moving.
I stood there for a moment, panting. My hand throbbed. My shoulder screamed.
Sasrir re-solidified behind me, wiping stray droplets of monster gore off his sleeve with the
air of someone swatting dust from a coat. "You were almost hit.""I noticed," I muttered, rolling my shoulder and hissing at the ache. "Thing swung like it
wanted to fold me in half."
"It nearly did."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll add it to the list of things trying to murder me."
I nudged the corpse with my toe. It didn't twitch. Good.
Fast. Brutal. Over.
[You have slain an Awakened Beast-Drowned Ghoul]
But another few seconds of carelessness, and I'd be the one on the ground, dripping into the
cracks.
Sasrir looked toward the ruined street. "There will be more."
"Always is," I said, shaking the blood off my hand. "That's why we kill fast and leave faster."
We exchanged a glance.
Then we vanished into the Dark City before the next thing found us.
By the time Sasrir and I made it to the gates of Bright Castle, the sun—or whatever paled
light filtered in over the ruined walls—was dipping low. My shoulder no longer throbbed
from the Ghoul back in the Dark City, already healed by the Rejuvinating Bloom, and I heard
voices ahead that I recognised-or one of them, at least.
Kai.
I froze mid-step, motionless for a heartbeat. Sasrir's shadow flickered beside me.
"Please… there must be someone I can talk to," Kai's voice floated over the open courtyard,
calm but tight with frustration.
A Guard's voice—stern, low, almost clipped—countered him. "Mr Nightingale,I don't have
anything else I can say to you. This type of stuff...nothing ever comes of it.
I blinked. That was… unusual. Usually, the Guards were either brash or dismissive,
sometimes outright hostile, especially to outsiders. But this one? His tone held a subtle
respect, tempered with hesitation. And then I noticed the small tell: the way his hand lingered
on the hilt of his halberd, the slight pause in his breath, the faint rise and fall of his shoulders.
He knew exactly who Kai was. Recognized him instantly. And yet, he could not, or would
not, budge.
Kai's voice cracked. "Please, I'm asking you personally. Do you have any idea what this
means? This isn't right, this isn't moral, we can't just let him get away with it!"The Guard shook his head, politely but firmly. "I'm sorry, Night. Tessai and Gemma protect
their own."
I glanced at Sasrir. He gave nothing away—his usual inscrutable expression, though the way
his shadows flickered around his shoulders told me he was reading the situation. He was
thinking.
I crept a little closer.
"…This isn't just a request! I can't just—" Kai's words cracked, and for the first time, I heard
the strain in his voice. Deeply upset. This wasn't just a routine squabble over a favor. This
was personal. Something important was at stake. He muttered something I couldn't hear
underneath his breath, and then looked at the Guard with a steadied gaze.
"…I know ywhat the Host is like," he said finally, almost to himself. "But this affects
everyone. Please."
The Guard's response was the same polite refusal, but I caught a flicker of hesitation in his
eyes. Kai's reputation wasn't just legend—it commanded attention even here, in the middle
of the Forgotten Shore. But the rules of Bright Castle? Even Kai Nightingale had to bow to
them.
Sasrir shifted beside me. "Do you want to intervene?" he murmured.
I shook my head. "No. Let him make his case. I want to hear what he's so upset about."
Kai's hands were clenched at his sides, sleeves wrinkled from how tightly he'd been gripping
them. His voice dropped lower, almost pleading: "You don't understand… if I can't reach
them soon, things could spiral… there's no one else who can—no one else—"
The Guard's hand remained steady on his halberd, but there was a tension in his posture now.
He wanted to comply, I could see that. He was trying, just like I'd seen soldiers do when
faced with impossible orders. But the rules had been handed down. Rules weren't something
you bent for even the brightest star of the Dream Realm.
Kai's jaw tightened. His normally perfect composure cracked in tiny increments—slight
tremors in his shoulders, his lips pressed too tightly together. I could almost feel the
desperation radiating off him.
"…I'll come back another time," he finally said, voice quieter now, but still sharp with
frustration. "I'll wait as long as I must—but…" He paused, shoulders slumping, hands
dropping to his sides. "…I can't just ignore this. Not this time."
The Guard gave a small, almost imperceptible nod of his head, rigid in obedience, and
repeated himself: "I'm sorry, Kai. I wish you luck."
Kai's face was taut with emotion, but he didn't argue further. I straightened, brushing dust off
my sleeve. "Well… let's go see how he's doing. From the sounds of it, he intends to pick a
fight with the Host all by himself."Sasrir inclined his head, shadows shifting along the courtyard stones. "Agreed."
And with that, we stepped into the inner courtyard, toward Kai, toward whatever storm had
brought him to this point.
Sasrir and I stepped forward together, closing the space between Kai and the Guard. "Hey," I
said, raising my hands slightly, trying for calm, friendly energy. "What's going on here?"
Kai looked at me, eyes flickering between annoyance, frustration, and… something else.
Recognition. He knew us from our encounter in the Coral Labyrinth the day before, or maybe
he had caught up on the rumours going around about Sasrir and myself. Either way, we were
in Kai's eyes.
But that didn't mean he trusted us.
"I… I can't say," Kai finally muttered, voice low. Not refusing, not lying exactly—just…
unable to speak.
I raised a brow. "Seriously? That's it? Come on, Kai, you can trust us."
He shook his head slightly, shoulders tight. "…I really can't. Thank you for your concern, but
this doesn't involve you, and I don't want it to."
I frowned, glancing at the Guard. "And you?" I asked, stepping just a little closer. The man's
posture stiffened; his hands gripped his halberd lightly.
"I… I have nothing to add, sir," he said. Polite, disciplined, but closed off. That was one
thing about these Bright Castle Guards—they were trained to obedience first, judgment
second. Even when they wanted to speak, most wouldn't cross the line.
Kai sighed softly, a sound that carried more weight than words. He straightened, took a slow
breath, and… walked away. Not angrily, not in defeat—just deliberately, purposefully,
vanishing toward the inner courtyard. His steps were quiet, but every one of them seemed
measured. Like he was trying to make a point without saying a word.
I blinked. "He… just left."
Sasrir tilted his head, shadows flickering across his face. "Apparently."
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "And the Guard? He's not going to say anything
either. Brilliant. Perfectly helpful."
Sasrir shrugged, leaning against the edge of the gate. "Not our problem. Whatever this is, it's
nothing to do with us, just as Kai said. Let the Castle handle its' own issues, we just need to
focus on putting food on the table.
I followed Kai's departing figure with my eyes, already spinning possibilities in my head.
Something was wrong—something big. His expression… it was belonging to a man deeply
frustrated, who had recently encountered either a tragedy or a dead-end. Maybe even both. Ifhe was looking to speak with Tessai or Gemma, I could roughly guess what had happened,
too.
I sighed, brushing off my cloak. "Fine. Let's go inside. He didn't want to talk, and the Guard
isn't going to help. Nothing to do but carry on like usual."
Sasrir's shadow followed me as we passed through the gate, but I could feel his quiet
assessment of the situation. Calm, precise, clinical—the way he always was when the playful
banter ended and the real world intruded.
As soon as the massive doors closed behind us, shutting out the courtyard and the fading
light, I leaned against a wall, already running through ideas.
"Alright," I muttered under my breath, mostly to myself, "if Kai isn't going to tell us, then
we'll figure it out ourselves. Something's up… maybe we can get a lead before he has to deal
with it alone. Or…" I smirked despite the tension, "…maybe it's a good excuse to stir things
up a little."
Sasrir didn't respond—he never did when I muttered schemes like that—but I knew he'd
heard. He ould interject and complain if I was planning haphazardly, or without proper
direction, but for stuff like this he knew I was always serious.
I just had to make sure I didn't overstep, didn't annoy ay of the big fish. Not yet.
Because whatever Kai was facing… I didn't want him handling it alone. And if I could have
a little fun along the way… well, why not?Chapter 42: Gaining Trust-II
The morning fog clung to the edges of the Settlement like wet cloth, faintly silver under the
anemic Dream Realm sun. I stood beneath the warped awning of the little shrine they'd given
me — "Father Adam's Corner," someone had painted on a plank above it, horribly crooked
— and handed out small packets of food one by one.
"Next," I said cheerfully, passing a wrapped piece of dried meat and a handful of something
vaguely bean-like to a Sleeper. "Eat it slow, or your intestines will file a complaint. Trust
me."
The woman laughed. A few others in the line chuckled as well — some soft, some weary, but
genuine enough. The Dream Realm rarely offered moments light enough to laugh about, so I
tried to force a few into existence wherever I could.
It helped that I could skim their surface thoughts without much effort.
A flicker of fear in that man? Make a joke about Sasrir's stern face.
A bloom of embarrassment in that young girl? Pretend not to notice she came back for
seconds.
Lingering grief in another? Offer a quiet word, a touch on the shoulder, a reassurance.
Mind-reading made most of this easy. Not heroic, not particularly divine — just practical.
"Here you go," I said to a tense-looking man. "Enjoy it while it's warm. Warm enough,
anyways."
He snorted in spite of himself and walked off, tension loosening a little.
Behind me — or rather, looming over me like a very stylish gargoyle — Sasrir stood with
arms crossed, face carved into the sharpest "don't try me" expression imaginable. Shadows
clung to him like a second outfit, and every time he shifted, the Settlers in line shuffled
nervously.
He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. His mere presence kept troublemakers away.
Or, at least, it kept them alive by discouraging them from trying again.
A group of rowdy Hunters had once tried to snatch our supplies. Sasrir had sent them home
with broken arms and horrible trauma. The Settlement never forgot.
Still, today was different.
Today, I wasn't just here to hand out food and fake priestly wisdom.
I had… an agenda.And every time I smiled gently at someone, every time I placed food in their hands, every
time I let the persona of "Father Adam" radiate calm and comfort…
…I stole little glances at the Settlers' thoughts.
Because Kai had been clearly upset yesterday, and had refused to tell me or Sasrir what
happened. And the Guard refused to talk, too — which meant something was wrong, and
someone was hiding it. Which meant I had to investiage things myself.
In the novel, Kai rarely lost his composure. When he did, it mattered.
Which was why I was here, wearing a warm smile and a holy aura, while mentally combing
through the minds of every person in this queue like I was sorting laundry.
Sasrir leaned slightly toward me. "Your face is too calm," he murmured quietly. "You're
scheming."
I passed a food packet to a young man and lowered my voice. "Of course I'm scheming. Why
else would I wake up early on a day we're supposed to rest?"
He grunted. "I had hoped you'd say 'I enjoy helping people.'"
I shot him a flat look.
"…Okay, stupid hope," Sasrir admitted.
I resumed handing out rations, all smiles again.
While I did get a certain pleasure from playing the Good Samaritan-nothing perverted, but
geniune happiness at doing some good in the world-that wasn't all I was here for.
My charity today had two goals:
Feed the hungry.
And find the bastard who upset my future teammate.
One of those goals was just a bonus. The other was mandatory.
The morning passed in its usual rhythm. I moved through the Settlement outside the Bright
Castle with a practised calm, handing out small packets of food to the Sleepers clustered
around me. I cracked small jokes here and there—gentle ones, timed just right—and the
people around me brightened in ways that never failed to lift my own mood.
Maybe I was a bit of a natural empath.
Once the last packet was given out and the small crowd dispersed to eat, I lingered. I gave
them a few minutes, then drifted casually into their midst, sitting on an old crate and sparking
light conversation. I warmed the air with easy humour, gentle questions, a little harmless
gossip—nothing out of the ordinary.And when the atmosphere felt just right, I slipped the bait in.
"You know," I said with a light shrug, "I met a young man the other day. At the Castle gate.
He was arguing with a Guard—seemed pretty upset about something. Don't know the fellow,
never seen him before. Anyone know what that was about?"
I said it with perfect bland curiosity. Not too pointed. Not too innocent.
There was a ripple among the group—quick glances, a hesitation I immediately felt through
the surface of their minds. One woman, older and worn but sharp-eyed, finally exhaled and
spoke.
"That man you saw… that was Kai." She glanced around, as if confirming they were safe
from eavesdropping. "Kai Nightingale. The singer. The famous one. He's been here… a
year? Yeah. Six months before you and your friend arrived."
I widened my eyes slightly, tilting my head in mild surprise. "Is that so? I wouldn't have
guessed."
"He doesn't flaunt it," she murmured. "Keeps his head down. Helps people. Has friends—
and a lot of women who still pine after him." A small, humourless smile. "But one of the
closest ones… she was hurt."
The air shifted. Everyone else pretended to focus on their food, but I felt the spike of dread
and anger roll through their thoughts.
"Hurt?" I echoed softly.
The woman swallowed. "Two nights ago. A pair of Guards—drunk, stupid, and cruel—
cornered her. She fought back. They nearly killed her for it. I heard she survived the night,
barely. But I don't know if she made it since."
Silence settled like dust.
"I don't think Kai's handling it well. He's been trying to see someone, but the Guards won't
let him inside the Castle even if tries to pay the fee. He was at the gate yesterday begging to
be allowed in."
I let a thoughtful frown crease my brow, as though I were only now grasping the seriousness
of the situation. But inside, gears were already shifting. Planning. Calculating. The moment I
had heard the first hint of Kai's panic at the gate yesterday, I had known something was
wrong.
Now I knew exactly what.
And I knew what I was going to do next.
My expression darkened—not theatrically, not for show, but with a quiet, controlled anger
that made the small cluster of Sleepers fall still."What were their names?" I asked.
The woman stiffened. "Adam… don't get involved in that."
"I'm already involved," I replied evenly. "What were their names—and where is the girl
now?"
A few others shifted uncomfortably. A man to his left muttered, "She's somewhere in the
Settlement. Too poor to afford the Castle's medical fee. Kai's been buying scraps of medicine
for her. It's… bad."
"But the Guards—" someone began.
"Names," I repeated, voice soft but unyielding.
The woman hesitated, lips tight. "Ardan. And Malik. They're both stationed near the Outer
Barracks. They drink too much and throw their weight around."
I nodded once, storing the information away. "And the girl?"
"Two lanes down, past the broken well. Third shack on the right." She grimaced. "Adam…
please. Leave it. Those two already nearly killed her. If anyone pokes them again, they'll
finish the job."
Others murmured agreement, trying to dissuade me—warning me about repercussions, about
trouble I didn't need, about how nothing ever changed here except for the worse.
I held their eyes one by one.
"I grew up being taught to help people who are being hurt," I said quietly. "And I have a
Memory capable of regeneration."
That silenced them.
A few looked away, ashamed. A few swallowed, resigned. The woman sighed heavily. "…
You'll do what you want anyway."
"Probably," I admitted with a small, rueful smile.
I reached into my bag, pulled out one last packet of food—the emergency one I usually kept
for the most desperate—and placed it gently into the hands of the nearest Sleeper.
Then I stood, dusted off my hands, and jerked my chin toward Sasrir.
"Come on. We're going."
Sasrir straightened instantly from his lean against the wall, the air around him shifting from
relaxed menace to ready violence. Without a word, he fell into step beside me.Together, the two of us walked toward the direction of Kai Nightingale and the wounded girl
—toward whatever we were about to find.
-------------------------
The shack was a little larger than the others around it—patched with mismatched planks,
crooked at the seams, but at least not caving in. Someone had tried to keep it clean. Someone
had cared.
I knocked lightly.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then came the faint rustle of movement—shuffling, a
soft thump, something metallic being dragged aside. Footsteps approached the door, hesitant,
uneven.
The latch clicked.
Kai eased the door open just wide enough to peer out.
He looked… exhausted. Dark circles bruised the skin under his electric green eyes, and his
normally perfect auburn hair was tied back sloppily, strands escaping everywhere. But the
moment he recognized me and Sasrir, his wariness melted into confusion.
"You two… from the Castle gate," he said quietly.
"That's us," I replied. "We heard what happened. We're here to help."
Instantly, Kai's expression hardened—fear, defensiveness, and a restrained, simmering anger
all passing through those too-beautiful features.
"No," he said shortly. "You can't. I don't need—this. And I can't trust—"
I lifted my hand.
The Regenerative Bloom unfolded from my palm like liquid crystal, petals unfurling with a
soft, breathlike motion. The gem pulsed with verdant light, green washing over the muddy
street and reflecting in Kai's stunned eyes.
Sasrir stood silent behind me, arms crossed, the mere shape of him radiating readiness.
Kai swallowed.
"That's…" His voice grew small. "A healing Memory?"
"Regenerative," I corrected gently. "Strong. Effective. And we're offering it freely."
He looked between us—first at me, then at Sasrir—trying to find the trick, the hidden angle,
the inevitable cruelty.
There wasn't one.Finally, with a shaky exhale, he stepped aside.
"…Alright," he murmured. "Come in."
The interior smelled faintly of herbs, mold, and dried blood. It was dim, lit only by a single
shard of sunlight filtering through a gap in the boards. In the far corner, on a thin bed stuffed
with old cloth, a young woman lay motionless.
Her breathing was shallow. Her skin was grey and waxen. Bandages around her abdomen
were soaked a dark, rusted red.
Kai hovered near her like a wounded animal, fear and shame and protectiveness twisting his
expression.
"This is Mira," he said softly. "My friend."
I stepped closer, the Bloom pulsing warmly in my hand.
Time to see how bad the damage really was.
The Bloom's light dimmed after the second drop sank into Mira's skin.
Her breathing, once thin as a whisper, deepened. The ghastly tension in her face loosened.
Color didn't quite return—she was still pale, still frighteningly frail—but the immediate
danger, the slow slide toward death… that was gone.
Malnourishment, infection, the rot settling into her wounds—none of that made it easy. The
Bloom struggled, I could feel it, as if pushing through muck. But it worked. The worst had
been pulled back from the edge.
Kai leaned over her, hands shaking slightly as he checked her pulse, her bandages, the rise
and fall of her chest. Every breath she took made his shoulders sink lower in relief.
"She's… she's stable," he whispered. "Actually… stable."
He looked up at me, green eyes shining—grateful, overwhelmed, and unsure of what to do
with either emotion. For a moment, he just stood there, lips parted, trying to find words.
Then he abruptly dipped forward, not quite a bow but still close to one.
"Thank you," he said earnestly. "I—I don't have enough to repay you, but I can give—wait,
hold on—"
He spun around, rummaging through a small chest. Coins clinked. Cloth rustled. A Soul
Shard flashed dully. He looked like he meant to empty the entire shack if needed.
"No, no," I said, stepping in. "Kai, stop. You don't owe me anything for this."
"But I—this kind of healing—this has to be worth—""It isn't," I cut him off. "Not when it comes to saving someone. Keep it."
He frowned, offended now. "That's ridiculous. You can't just—"
"I can," I said, "and I did."
"That's not how these things work!"
"That's exactly how they work for me."
We both glared at each other, one stubborn out of principle, the other out of gratitude so
intense it was panicking him. Kai opened his mouth to continue arguing—
Sasrir placed a hand on my shoulder. Hard.
Then he addressed Kai with icy calm:
"If you truly want to repay us," he said, "join us on our next hunt. You're an archer. It will be
useful."
Kai blinked.
Then blinked again.
"…That's it?"
Sasrir shrugged. "Payment enough."
Kai looked between us—my irritated expression, Sasrir's unreadable stare—and finally,
finally let himself breathe.
"Alright," he said softly. "I'll join you."
Some of the tension drained from his posture. His shoulders relaxed. Even the lines around
his eyes eased.
For the first time since we'd stepped into the shack, Kai Nightingale actually looked like a
person again—not a cornered beast, not a desperate friend, but someone letting out the breath
they'd been holding for days.
"…Thank you," he murmured once more. "Both of you."
And this time, he didn't reach for anything to give in return.
I smiled at Kai's soft thanks—couldn't help it. He looked like someone who'd been drowning
and finally got to breathe.
But the moment passed. My smile faded. My voice hardened.
"We're not done here."Kai straightened, confused. "…What?"
I folded my arms. "The two Guards who did this—Ardan and Malik. I won't let them get
away with this."
The change in him was instant.
Those electric green eyes darkened, cooling into something bitter. His jaw clenched. His
fingers curled at his sides. Anger radiated off him, sharp enough to taste, yet underneath it…
resignation.
"Those two," he muttered. "Of course."
He hesitated. The anger didn't vanish, but it deflated—like he'd been carrying it for too long,
and it had worn him down more than he wanted to admit.
"Look," he said quietly, "I know what you're thinking. But… there's nothing to be done.
Gunlaug won't care. He barely listens to anything that doesn't benefit him directly." He
exhaled sharply. "I've tried. I've tried everything short of fighting them myself, and that'd
just get me executed for starting trouble."
He shook his head, shoulders slumping.
"I appreciate everything you've done. Really. But this is where it ends."
"Mm," Sasrir murmured behind me.
I glanced back. He wasn't frowning, wasn't scowling. In fact… he was smiling.
A slow, dangerous, familiar smile.
Kai noticed it too. "What? Did I say something wrong?"
Sasrir didn't answer. Instead, he gave a casual little tilt of his head toward the door.
"Come with us," he said.
Kai blinked. "To the Castle? Now? I… I can't. I can't leave Mira like this—"
"She'll live," I said, tone gentle but firm. "And you said you wanted to repay us."
Kai grimaced, struggling. His protective instinct warred with his sense of obligation. He
looked back at Mira, then at me, then at Sasrir—who still hadn't stopped smiling like
someone who already knew the ending.
Finally, Kai let out a slow breath.
"…Alright. I'll go."
Sasrir nodded once, satisfied.I turned toward the door, pushing it open and stepping out into the dim, fog-draped street.
Kai, still visibly conflicted but determined, followed. Sasrir brought up the rear with that
same infuriatingly calm air.
The shack door shut softly behind us.
And just like that, the three of us headed back toward the Bright Castle.
Sasrir didn't waste a second.
The moment we stepped back into the outer courtyard, he strode directly toward the front
gate Guard—the same man from earlier—and stopped so close the Sleeper had to crane his
neck upward just to meet Sasrir's eyes.
"We are here," Sasrir said, voice low and perfectly level, "to present a criminal case before
Lord Gunlaug and request formal judgment."
The Guard's expression froze.
His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Beside me, Kai stared at Sasrir like the words simply didn't compute. The idea of asking
Gunlaug for justice—in the Forgotten Shore—felt like insanity. No one did that. No one even
imagined doing that.
But Sasrir did not blink. He did not repeat himself. He simply waited.
After a silent, suffocating moment, the Guard swallowed. Hard. Then, trembling slightly, he
nodded and scrambled inside, almost tripping over his own boots in his haste.
Kai leaned close to me and whispered, "Is he serious? You're not actually planning to—"
But before he could finish, Sasrir spoke without turning around.
"Patience," he murmured. "You will understand soon."
Kai fell silent.
We waited. The air grew tense and heavy, guards at the walls keeping their eyes carefully
elsewhere so as not to meet ours. Even the wind felt like it didn't want to make noise.
After several minutes, the original Guard returned—and he wasn't alone.
Four more Guards marched behind him in a tight formation, armed to the teeth. Not the usual
ragged spears and machetes either—proper polearms, reinforced armor, face masks. The kind
of heavy mobilization reserved for outbreaks, rampaging abominations, or the rare,
unthinkable occasion when Gunlaug felt threatened.
They were afraid of Sasrir. All five of them.Kai's breath hitched at the sight.
"I… I think this was a bad idea," he whispered.
I laid a hand on his shoulder briefly—not to reassure him, but to keep him from bolting.
"Relax," I said. "If we intended violence, no one here would be standing right now."
That didn't seem to relax him at all.
The Guard captain cleared his throat, voice cracking slightly as he spoke:
"Lord Gunlaug… will hear your petition."
They fell into formation around us—two in front, two at our sides, one behind. A full escort.
Or a full containment squad depending on how you looked at it.
We began walking.
Through corridor after corridor, torches burning bright against carved stone, the footsteps of
our escort echoing like drums. At first, people greeted us warmly—waves, friendly nods,
cheerful calls of "Morning, Adam!" and "Sasrir, you're back early!"
But then they noticed the armored guards.
They noticed where we were headed.
Smiles faded. Conversations stopped. People stepped away from the walls to watch in silent
curiosity or whispered worry. Some even moved to follow us, like drifting boats caught in the
wake of a storm.
By the time we reached the inner hall, a small crowd trailed behind us—settlers, Sleepers,
even a few Hunters and other Guards. Not close enough to cause trouble. Just enough to see
something rare, something unheard of:
People daring to defy the decadent order imposed by the Bright Lord and his sadistic
Lieutenants.
Then the doors opened.
The throne room of the Bright Lord was already lit, already waiting—and Gunlaug himself
sat upon his elevated seat, draped in his armour of liquid gold, his heavy gaze locking onto us
the instant we stepped in.
And I could tell despite not being able to see his face-He was smiling.
But it wasn't pleasant, or amused, or even curious.
It was the smile of a man who already smelled blood in the water."Welcome," Gunlaug rumbled, his voice echoing off the walls. "I hear you have… grievances to bring before me."