The eight prisoners were still asleep. Dawn had not yet arrived. Yet Rhea kept grumbling at Yanesh.
"I need to be sure what you promised is real, old man."
The cold air in the barracks courtyard pierced his skin. Rhea was used to it.
He had been repeating the same things for hours—negotiations, protests, subtle threats.
"I'll make sure of it, kid. As long as you complete this mission," Yanesh replied calmly.
"You've lost your mind, you old bastard," Rhea lowered her voice. "I'll be fighting magic users, won't I?"
He had repeated that complaint for nearly three hours. Yanesh, however, stood firm, his authority unshaken.
"It is madness," he said. "But what's even crazier is a kid from the southern desert continent managing to set foot in Aurelia…"
He paused, "…which lies far north of the sands."
Rhea clicked his tongue in irritation. Still, he knew he had no choice. Refusing would only hasten a worse end.
"So," Yanesh said, "what do you need?"
Rhea immediately thought of her missing sword. Confiscated, most likely, by the royal military.
"We still have four hours. I want my weapon back."
Yanesh merely smiled faintly, then turned to face her.
"Your sword is in my office. Don't worry—it's safe."
Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Wait. You don't even know what my sword looks like."
"Hahaha…" Yanesh chuckled, wiping the corner of his eye.
"I know enough, kid. A unique blade, curved at the tip like a sickle. Typical of your homeland—Sanhara. Am I wrong?"
He turned and began walking.
"Follow me."
Rhea followed behind him, still muttering under his breath.
Yanesh walked through narrow stone paths. Torches mounted on poles cast long, flickering shadows. Rhea quickened his pace, walking beside him.
"If I die," he muttered quietly, "will you at least regret it?"
Yanesh stopped for a moment.
"No," he answered honestly. "But I will remember you."
Rhea scoffed. "Amazing. What a comfort."
They stopped before a thick wooden door carved with Aurelia's emblem. Yanesh unlocked it slowly.
Inside, the room was warm—a stark contrast to the freezing courtyard. In the center, leaning against a long table, lay a sword.
A khopesh.
Its curved blade gleamed dully, worn yet well-maintained. Not a royal weapon. Not ceremonial.
A tool for survival. Rhea froze.
For a moment, all sound vanished. He stepped forward, his hand trembling slightly as it wrapped around the hilt.
The grip felt familiar. The weight—perfectly balanced. Unchanged.
"No new scratches," he murmured.
"I forbade anyone from touching it," Yanesh said.
"Not out of respect for you—but because I know that blade isn't meant for just any hands."
Rhea exhaled deeply. For the first time since his capture, his chest felt lighter.
"Thank you," he said shortly.
Yanesh stared at her sharply. "Don't misunderstand. This isn't a gift. It's an investment."
Rhea sheathed his khopesh, fastening the small chain at the hilt to the reel on her belt.
—Click
"Then," his said coldly, "make sure your investment doesn't go to waste."
They returned to the corridor. In the distance, footsteps echoed—the guard shift changing. Dawn still hadn't arrived, but time kept moving.
"The eight prisoners," Rhea said suddenly. "Are they all criminals?"
Yanesh nodded. "Murderers. Looters. Two former mercenaries."
"And the woman?" Rhea asked.
Yanesh glanced at her. "Her name is Ilya. A spy from the eastern island nations—cast out by her own country."
Rhea said nothing.
Soon, they reached the rear courtyard of the barracks. Thin mist hung low. There, the eight prisoners were awakened one by one.
Chains clinked.
Complaints followed.
Among them, a silver-haired girl sat calmly. Her body was wrapped in a thin coat, clearly insufficient against the cold.
Her eyes were sharp—too sharp for an ordinary prisoner.
Their gazes met.
Rhea paused.
There was something in that stare—not fear, not resignation, but vigilance. The look of someone accustomed to danger.
The girl noticed Rhea watching. She lowered her head slightly, perhaps in greeting.
Then she turned away, pretending not to care. There, in the freezing courtyard untouched by dawn, Rhea felt something unexpected.
Not fear.
Not anger.
But the sense that hid path was no longer solitary. That girl, like him, had nowhere to return to.
…
The sun had just begun to rise when Yanesh gathered the group in the courtyard.
"Your first mission," Yanesh said flatly, "is to investigate Ringin Swamp on the western edge of the kingdom."
Ten people stood in line, including Rhea and Ilya.
"Our intelligence suspects suspicious activity in the swamp," Yanesh continued.
He paused, scanning their tense faces.
"Bring back a mage's head," he said. "Or at least drive them out. That land still belongs to the kingdom."
There were no cheers. No protests.
They departed that morning, escorted by four elite soldiers walking separately.
One led the front. Three stayed behind. Not guards. Observers.
Ringin Swamp was known for its strange flora and fauna—never fully explored by humans.
Yet it remained officially under Aurelia's rule.
And precisely because of that, anything could grow there.
"Hooaah…" Rhea yawned as they walked. "Feels like we'll be seeing hell today."
Born—a massive man with a brutal face—snorted. The former serial killer glanced at her.
"Hah. That's just you, kid. Life in Aurelia itself is already hell."
His mocking tone irritated Rhea.
"Fuck off, big body. I'm not one of you bastards," Rhea snapped, tightening his headband.
Born only stared in silence. The others didn't react.
No carts. No horses. Only footsteps toward the western frontier.
…
"This is Ringin Swamp. Watch your steps," said Mike, the elite soldier leading the formation.
Mist drifted between towering trees. Three other elites guarded the rear.
"A place like this is perfect for escaping," Kyuhen whispered—the bomber.
"Don't be stupid," Sei replied immediately. "The elites aren't idiots."
He knew. This wasn't his first time dealing with them.
Rhea silently observed his surroundings. Without realizing it, he drifted closer to Ilya.
"…?"
"What?" Ilya asked.
Awkwardly, Rhea replied, "Ah—nothing. Just watching the plants."
Step by step, Mike led the way.
Clek. Clek. Clek.
Wet soil sucked at their feet. The air grew colder.
Rhea's expression shifted. His body lowered slightly. His steps became light and rhythmic.
His right hand rested on the hilt of khopesh.
As if sensing the same thing, Ilya also became alert. Her walking rhythm changed.
Moist ground beneath them. Tall trees closing in from both sides.
Below, thorny undergrowth spread thickly. Water dripped from dense leaves, breaking the silence.
Sometimes, the plants moved. Alive.
Roots slowly crawled, creeping toward human feet.
—Sringg
Mike cut through the living roots with his sword.
Behind him, Sei struggled against strange flying insects.
…
…
~Crk ~crk
Rhea stopped. He turned toward the sound.
...
—RHAWWWWRRRR!!
A Wolca—a wolf-like beast with zebra-like stripes—leapt at them.
Its roar shattered the mist. The shock lasted only a moment. Just before its claws landed—
~Sringg—CRAKKK!!
Rhea's khopesh struck first.
The curved blade hooked the Wolca's neck, tearing through it in a single sharp pull. Warm blood splashed onto the swamp floor.
The beast twitched briefly… then fell still.
The criminals froze. Sweat beaded on their temples.
Mike didn't even look back.
"Keep moving," he said coldly.
Rhea continued walking. His khopesh remained in his hand. He did not sheath it.
As if he knew—the swamp had not yet revealed its true face.