Rage was seething inside him. He hadn't grasped the situation at first, but reality was beginning to impose itself before his eyes.
O'Verd was indeed dead.
Murdered... and in a gruesome way.
This realization ignited a fire of anger and grief in Jishti's heart. Those words that came out of his mouth were not a conscious decision.
"Who killed him?"
They were not his words so much as the outburst of his body.
He felt like a mere witness trapped inside himself, unable to control his movements or emotions. Everything that came out of him was not from his consciousness, but from the chaos of his feelings.
"We haven't found out yet. We're still working on the case."
Mayor DuVill replied sternly, his features bearing a mixture of. Cruelty and Misery.
Gissey stepped out of the office door and strode straight toward Douville. His footsteps pounded the ground beneath his feet and echoed through the place.
He clenched his jaw cruelly, then lunged forward and grabbed the mayor's shirt, crumpling the chest of the grey suit that symbolized his high position in the village of Morge.
"So what are you waiting for? Are you kidding me? My brother is dead, and you just stand here doing nothing. Do your damned job!"
He yelled in his face, spittle flying, his eyes fixed on Douville's as if forcing him to hear his words.
And inside, another voice screamed:
"What do I do? Stop... Wake up!"
The mayor's expression changed completely. He glared at Gissey cruelly, then took his trembling hand and pulled it away from his chest, releasing his spiritual energy.
A distinct aura emanated around him, the aura of a hardened second-rank warrior... the middle class.
Rank 2, Middle Class.
"Raise your hand."
You know my position very well, Mr. Geshi Kantem Monoth. The murder of your brother does not excuse this behavior. I can arrest you and throw you in jail to rot for assaulting me."
His words were dark and heavy.
And everyone present heard them.
Geshi's anger increased, and he took a step back. Unintentionally, his spiritual field exploded, extending from his depths, forming a hazy aura around him.
A hardened warrior... Rank 2, First Class (Foundation).
Silence fell.
The two stared at each other for a long moment.
Mayor Douville did not back down. He asserted his position and power without hesitation. He would not tolerate insult or transgression, for that would shatter his reputation.
He was the face of the village, the symbol of its authority. He had to be solid, unbreakable, and unyielding.
Gradually, Gichy began to recover from his shock.
An eerie silence settled within him. His limbs trembled, and he felt as if ants were crawling on his fingers... dozens of them.
Then he heard Rod's voice.
"Uncle... is... is Uncle O'Verd really dead?"
Gichy turned to him.
He saw pure shock on the young man's face, standing in the middle of the dusty ground, unable to comprehend.
He could find nothing to say but the truth.
"Yes... O'Verd was murdered."
His voice was low this time.
He walked slowly back to the office door, closing it quietly, as if trying to restore order to chaos.
This was his fate... It was written that he would die murdered. No
We can't say this is unfair.
He paused, then clenched his fist.
"But I will avenge him. My older brother didn't deserve this end."
Rod froze.
He didn't cry, his eyes didn't tear up, he didn't flinch.
He felt an absolute emptiness.
The first thought that came to his mind was just one:
"You must tell Dad... Uncle...
Forz isn't here right now, you know that."
Geeshy said it, his voice heavy with sorrow.
But he had to know about his brother's death. Prepare yourself. You're goingTo Romca. Catch up with your father and tell him... and make sure he doesn't
break down."
Despite his grief, a spark of hatred burned in his heart.
Hatred directed at Overd's killer.
And that hatred made him tougher.
Romca... a county about seventy kilometers west of Morge, where some of the Cantem Monoth family's
farmland extended. Fores was in charge of that area.
"Before I go to Romca... I want to attend my uncle's funeral."
Rod said in a broken voice, clasping his hands in pain.
"I won't stop you."
Inside the Noss tavern....
Glamour, dancing, and merry noise filled the air.
The smell of alcohol was everywhere; a disparate mixture of foul and sweet odors made for a chaotic scene.
Inside the wooden tavern.
Leeward and Niall sat on two wooden barrels near the tavern bar, drinking from large wooden goblets.
Niall was completely drunk; his face was flushed, and his voice was heavy and slurred.
He said, waving his goblet,
"So, what have you decided to do next, now that you're free?"
He emptied the rest of the goblet in one gulp, then slammed the bottom of it hard on the bar, the sound echoing through the tavern.
Leeward answered calmly,
"I haven't decided yet. I've only just got my freedom today, and I want to live this moment happily."
Leeward was only slightly drunk, despite how much he had drunk.
He controlled his stomach with his spiritual energy, isolatingThe alcohol kept him conscious, yet it didn't prevent him from feeling a slight euphoria.
Niall laughed and rose unsteadily, almost falling.
"I'll dance! I'll dance until I'm knocked down! My feet want to move, and I'll give them that honor, ha-ha-ha!"
Leeward muttered to himself sarcastically as he watched him:
And do you even have any honor to speak of?
Niall steadyed himself a little and began to move his feet to the sharp violin beat that filled the bar.
He danced near one of the tables, zigzagging, then suddenly lost his balance and fell diagonally onto the back of a man who was sitting there.
He drooled on the man's shirt, then pushed himself up using his broad back.
Niall shouted, barely aware of what he was saying:
"Why are you ruining my dance, you bastard?! You don't like it? Then get out of this bar. This isn't a place for grumpy old men like you, you moron."
This was the talk of a man who was extremely drunk and completely unaware of what he was doing.
Unwittingly, Niall had gotten himself into real trouble.
The man rose slowly. His skin was black, his beard thick, and his body massive; twice as wide as Niall, and so tall he barely reached his chest.
He said in a gruff voice,
"Let me know... who's the real fool? Someone who can't handle a few glasses of wine? Or me? Of course, you. And I should reward you for your good manners."
Leeward laughed heartily.
"It seems trouble is piling up one after another... Hahaha!"
He didn't care if Niall got beaten up; it wasn't his problem, and he had no intention of interfering.
Hearing his laughter, the large man turned to him angrily:
"No, I won't reward you alone... your friend is with you too."
Niall tried to speak
"What? Who do you think I am?"
But his words trailed off.
A crushing punch landed on his face, instantly snapping his nose and knocking him half-conscious.
Niall slumped to the floor, blood streaming from his nose.
He muttered, teetering between consciousness and unconsciousness,
"What happened...? Am I dreaming? Damn it... Am I going to sleep again...?"
And there he fainted, thinking he was in a strange dream.
The huge man stepped over Niall's body and strode toward Leeward, his anger evident:
"How dare you mock me, slave?"
There was a moment of silence in the tavern.
Leeward said with steady calm as he turned to him:
You seem to have miscalculated. First, I am no longer a slave.
Second, I wasn't laughing at you. And I don't want any trouble, please."
He knew he was in a bind, and that he had to avoid side conflicts.
But at the same time, he wasn't going to let anyone humiliate him.
The man yelled, clenching his fist.
"I get it! You want to run away from discipline like your friend? That's never going to happen!"
And he lunged with a punch straight at Leeward's face.
Leeward raised his hand and easily blocked the blow.
He said coldly,
"In the end, you're not a warrior, and you don't possess any spiritual power. That's the difference, isn't it?"
He seized the man's fist with one hand, reinforced his other with spiritual power, and then rose from atop the barrel.
Though shorter, shock was etched on the huge man's face.
Impossible... blocking it with one hand? A slave who mastered spiritual power?
Thoughts raced through his head.
The next moment, he received a punch to the stomach.
A pain he had never felt in his life.
It felt as if his intestines were being ripped open.
He shot like an arrow toward the tavern's double gate, smashed it open, and burst out, then collapsed onto the outside street tiles, writhing and foaming at the mouth, completely out of breath.
That's the difference between someone who has awakened their spiritual power and an ordinary, powerless person.
At that moment, one of the guards was coming into the tavern looking for the runaway slaves, Leeward and Nile.
He saw the huge man flung out of the tavern and crash to the ground.
He muttered indifferently
What on earth is going on here... Looks like we need a law to punish drunks for their vandalism and noise."
Then he went into the tavern to finish his business.
Inside, a heavy silence fell.
Only the ticking of a clock on a wooden wall could be heard.
...tick...tick
Leeward sat back down on the barrel and said quietly,
"One more glass, please, bartender."
This time, he wanted to get a little drunk.
But a voice interrupted him:
"Leward Cashin, and Niall Cad... come with me at once.
You are suspects in the murder of Owerd Cantem Monoth."
Leeward's eyes widened in shock.
He muttered,
"It seems he really is dead... this is a real tragedy."