The room hung in silence, the kind that pressed in from all sides, heavy and unrelenting. The faint hiss of wind sneaking through the warped shutters was the only sound, a quiet reminder of the cold seeping into the space. The ceiling loomed above me, stained with irregular patches of water damage that formed patterns too chaotic to follow. My eyes drifted over them, not lingering long enough to form meaning—not because I didn't want to, but because I couldn't bring myself to care.
""Ugh...""
The sound slipped from my lips, more reflex than intention. My body sprawled across the bed like a discarded doll, limp and motionless. The mattress sagged under my weight, creaking faintly with every subtle shift of my frame. The blankets were tossed to the side, half hanging off the edge of the bed. The chill bit at my exposed skin, but it wasn't enough to make me move. It didn't matter. The cold wasn't sharp or painful—it was just there, like the silence, like the room itself.
The small oil lamp on the desk flickered weakly, its glow barely illuminating the space. Shadows danced along the walls, stretching and contracting with the lamp's irregular rhythm. The light was unsteady, almost hypnotic, creating the illusion that the room was alive, breathing in its own broken way. Yet the thought didn't inspire fear or unease, only a hollow acknowledgment as my eyes followed the shadows' slow movements.
((The route's set...))
""...""
The thought flickered in and out, a spark of purpose in the void. I'd mapped it all out. Red Ember anchorage wasn't far—one day if I pushed myself, running at full speed. The calculations were complete, the plan already etched into my mind. Every detail of the terrain, every potential obstacle, every contingency...accounted for.
((If they suspect anything from the ship—which is unlikely, since it's more believable the captain collapsed from overwork and triggered the alarm—it won't matter. No ordinary mage will uncover what I did to his mind. But if they do...I'll be ready to deal with their increased vigilance))
""...""
I shifted slightly, the bed creaking under the movement. My gaze flicked toward the empty chair in the corner where my cloak and gear had once rested. They weren't there anymore. Hours ago, I'd disintegrated them with magic, reducing every scrap to ash and scattering it into the wind. The memory was vivid, the faint smell of smoke still lingering at the edge of my mind. Standard procedure. Necessary. Just another step in the process.
""Haah~...""
The sigh escaped quietly, barely audible in the thick stillness of the room. It wasn't a sigh of relief, frustration, nor exasperation—just a release of air, automatic, empty. My eyes drifted back to the ceiling, tracing the cracks that spider-ed out across the plaster. They formed no coherent pattern, no image to focus on. Just lines. Just cracks.
((...))
""...""
The faint glow of the harbor lights filtered through the old pane, distorted and weak against the warped windowsill. Beyond it, Garellia slumbered. The soft hum of life outside reached my ears faintly: the distant murmur of voices from the tavern, the low groan of a ship swaying in its moorings, the bark of a stray dog echoing down the narrow streets. It was life—far enough away to feel unreal, close enough to remind me it still existed.
((...))
""...""
My body remained motionless. The faint smell of seawater clung to the room, mixing with the scent of old wood and oil from the lamp. I turned onto my side, facing the small desk where the lamp flickered weakly, its flame fighting against the faint drafts. The desk was cluttered with nothing of importance: a stray scrap of paper, an inkwell nearly dried out, a half-melted candle. The emptiness of it all mirrored the space itself—a room that served its purpose but offered nothing beyond utility.
((...))
""...Morning can't come soon enough...""
The words slipped out, faint and devoid of emotion. I wasn't sure if I even meant them. Morning was just another marker in time, another box to check on the endless list of things to do. There was no comfort in its arrival, no anticipation—just the cold knowledge that it would come whether I wanted it to or not. Some part of me knew the suffering of another day might be preferable to this emptiness. At least it would be something.
((...))
""...""
The flickering lamp cast one last erratic shadow before steadying. The silence of the room pressed in once more, dense and suffocating. My mind drifted, but not to memories or dreams. There was no past to revisit, no future to imagine. Just the void of "now", stretching endlessly, consuming everything in its path.
The room felt colder. My body lay still, unmoving. My eyes stayed open, unable to shut as the hours dragged on. The faint sounds of the town faded into nothingness, leaving me alone with the silence. Alone with the emptiness.
Just me and the void…
...
I didn't notice when morning arrived until the light crept through the warped window sill and hit my pupils. The pale, cold light painted the cracks in the ceiling in sharper relief, cutting through the muted gray that had engulfed the room for hours. It wasn't the warm, golden glow that poets might dream of. It was sterile, distant—a reminder that time kept moving forward, indifferent to me or my circumstances.
I blinked once, twice, and sat up slowly. My joints ached faintly, the toll of an uncomfortable night in the same position. The blankets had slipped to the floor at some point, not that they'd done much to fight the chill since I didn't even use them. My clothes felt slightly damp yet dry at the same time, clinging uncomfortably to my skin although the dampness wasn't from last night's misadventure for I have already disintegrated those clothes, it was from sweat. It didn't matter; discomfort was a familiar companion.
""Time to move""
The sentence wasn't laced with urgency or determination. It was simply a command issued from somewhere deep within, an order my body obeyed without question. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and planted my feet on the cold wooden floor, the sensation a fleeting jolt against the lingering numbness.
The room looked the same as it had hours ago: sparse, practical, empty. The lamp on the desk had burned itself out, leaving a faint trace of soot on the glass chimney. My pack rested against the corner, its contents already arranged with precision. There was no need to double-check; I knew everything was exactly where it needed to be.
The first step was to change. Stripping out of the old clothes, I pulled on a fresh set from the pack—a plain shirt and sturdy trousers, meant for travel. The worn leather of my boots creaked faintly as I laced them up, their weight a reassuring presence on my feet.
Next, the cloak, another black one with a hood as usual. I pulled it from the pack, shaking it out and draping it over my shoulders. Its dark fabric absorbed the morning light, blending into the muted tones of the room. The hood remained down for now; there was no need to draw attention just yet, or ever.
I secured my butterfly knife at my side, or more accurately concealed in my clothes, the familiar weight a comfort even in its lethality. My hands moved automatically, checking straps, tightening buckles, ensuring everything was in its proper place. Every motion was precise, practiced—a ritual honed through repetition.
The resignation letter came next. I retrieved it from the desk, its contents scrawled in the plain, efficient handwriting I'd taught myself long ago. There were no flowery words or explanations, just the facts. A short farewell to a job I'd never planned to keep. I folded it neatly and tucked it into my pocket.
Before leaving, I moved to the small mirror hung crookedly on the wall. The reflection staring back at me was my own—cold red eyes, pale, sharp features, and shimmering pale white hair. The bangs flowed delicately to my cheeks, framing my face, while the strands in the back brushed against my shoulders. It was unkempt yet unnaturally silky and smooth, catching the dim light in a way that made it seem almost otherworldly. And then, there was the expression—neutral, lifeless.
It was a face that drew attention, and attention was the last thing I needed.
((Here comes the worst part...))
I raised a hand and whispered the incantation for [Polymorph], my voice steady despite the sharp dread settling in my chest. The spell activated instantly, a searing wave of heat ripping through me as the magic began its work. My bones twisted and cracked audibly, their shapes contorting with brutal efficiency. Muscles burned and pulled taut as they rearranged themselves, fibers tearing apart and knitting back together in real time. Fat cells dissolved and reformed as protein, a nauseating churn that left my stomach roiling.
*Crack!* *Pop!* *CRRRR!* *Snap!*
I clenched my teeth, my fingers gripping the edge of the desk as the pain wracked my body. Each second felt like an eternity, my mind forced to endure the sensation of being dismantled and reassembled, piece by agonizing piece. But I didn't scream. I never screamed.
""Ha~...ha~...""
When the spell settled, the agony subsided, leaving a dull ache in its wake. My breath came in short, sharp bursts as I straightened slowly, my legs trembling slightly beneath me. The reflection in the mirror had changed.
Gone were the striking red eyes, sickly white hair and pale complexion. In their place was an unremarkable man with dull colored eyes, a softer jawline, and chestnut, messy hair. The scars marking my hands and face were erased, replaced by smooth, unassuming skin. Even my frame had shifted, flattened slightly by the redistribution of muscle.
((Still standing...))
The thought drifted through my mind, dry and distant, as I adjusted my clothes to fit my new form. My lips curled into a faint, humorless smirk that vanished as quickly as it came. The pain was temporary, just another part of the routine.
I tugged my hood lower and turned away from the mirror. The creak of the floorboards beneath my boots was a familiar sound, grounding me as I descended the narrow staircase of the inn.
The resignation letter weighed lightly in my pocket, a tangible reminder of the life I was about to leave behind. Again.
""Let's get this over with""
I moved toward the door, the warped floorboards creaking faintly under my steps. The inn was quiet at this hour, the halls empty save for the muffled sound of someone coughing in the distance. I descended the narrow staircase, the faint scent of stale bread and spilled ale lingering in the air.
At the lobby, the familiar clink of keys being sorted drew my attention to the reception desk. Emily, the inn's receptionist, looked up from her ledger with her usual polite smile. Her hair was neatly tied back, and the light freckles on her cheeks gave her an air of casual friendliness.
"Oh, Mr. Ulric, I'd like to remind you that your—"
She began, her voice carrying the practiced cheer of someone who had repeated this line a hundred times. I raised a hand gently, cutting her off before she could finish.
""No need""
I said, mentally slipping on my "disguise" as my tone became mild and approachable.
""This'll be my last day in Garellia anyway. Thank you for your help thus far, Mrs. Emily""
I dipped my head in a polite bow, holding the gesture just long enough to convey sincerity. She blinked in surprise, her pen pausing mid-note in the ledger.
"Oh..."
She said, her voice softening.
"Well, safe travels then, Mr. Ulric. I hope Garellia treated you well"
""It did""
I replied simply, straightening.
""Your kindness and services are appreciated""
Her smile widened, and for a moment, the weariness of her long shift seemed to fade.
"It was no trouble at all. You're one of the quieter ones, you know. Always polite. I wish more of our guests were like you"
I offered her a small, practiced smile, one that didn't quite reach my eyes but was enough to maintain the guise of a mild-mannered traveler.
""Haha...I'd imagine so, but still, it's kind of you to say""
I replied with a chuckle and a thank you.
""Take care, Mrs. Emily""
With that, I adjusted the pack slung over my shoulder and turned toward the door, the faint creak of the floorboards marking my departure. Behind me, I heard her wish me safe travels once more, her voice warm and genuine, a contrast to the cold, empty day awaiting me outside.
Outside, Garellia was already stirring. The harbor bustled with early activity—dockworkers shouting instructions, the creak of carts being loaded with goods, the occasional bark of a dog chasing after a stray gull. The chaos was strangely comforting, a reminder of the world's ceaseless rhythm.
I moved through the crowd with an easy stride, slipping between workers and vendors without drawing attention. The foreman's office came into view, a modest structure of weathered wood and peeling paint, its door hanging slightly ajar. Emrys stood just outside, leaning against the frame like he always did. His wiry frame was taut with the energy of someone who had been awake for hours already, his sharp eyes tracking the bustle of the docks with practiced familiarity.
"Markus"
He called, his voice a deep rumble softened by the hint of a smile.
"Didn't expect you so early"
""Good morning, Emrys. I'm not here to work I'm afraid""
I replied, my tone calm and polite as I approached, Emrys raised his eyebrows slightly at my words.
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the folded resignation letter, handing it to him without ceremony. He unfolded it slowly, his calloused fingers brushing over the paper. His sharp gaze scanned the words twice, his lips pressing into a thin line as he folded it back up and tucked it into the pocket of his vest.
"Figures..."
He said, exhaling through his nose. There was no malice in his tone, only resignation.
"You've always had that look—like this place was just a stop along the way"
He leaned back against the frame, his arms crossing as he studied me. There was something almost wistful in his expression, though it was quickly masked by his usual no-nonsense demeanor.
"Not gonna lie..."
He continued, rolling the unlit cigar from behind his ear between his fingers.
"Thought maybe we could get you to stick around a bit longer. You've got good hands and even better muscles. Reliable. We could've used someone like you"
I offered him a small smile, the kind that didn't quite reach my eyes but was meant to reassure.
""It's been a good experience""
I said, inclining my head slightly.
""But my path takes me elsewhere""
Emrys huffed quietly, a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. His gaze drifted toward the harbor, where the day's work was already in full swing.
"Well, can't say you didn't pull your weight while you were here. Not everyone's cut out for the grind of a port town, but you…you fit in just fine"
He straightened, his frame casting a long shadow in the morning light as he stuck the cigar back behind his ear. Extending a calloused hand, he offered a faint smile—one of respect rather than formality.
"Good luck out there, Mark. Wherever you're heading."
I took his hand briefly, meeting his firm grip with one of my own. His palm was rough and grounding, a stark contrast to the fleeting, impermanent nature of my presence here. When I released it, his hand lingered for a fraction of a second before retreating.
""Thank you, Emrys""
I said, my voice steady and measured.
""For everything""
With a final nod, I turned and walked away, leaving the office behind. The cacophony of the harbor surrounded me as I moved through the crowded streets, the noise fading with every step I took toward the edge of town. My focus shifted seamlessly to the next task, the resignation already a distant memory.
For all the movement and life around me, there was no sense of permanence. The world spun on, indifferent and relentless. Just as it always did.
Behind me, Emrys leaned casually against a support beam, arms crossed and a faint grin tugging at the corners of his weathered face. His tone was light, cheerful, as if he hadn't just bid farewell to a worker he'd probably never see again.
"Feel free to come back anytime! You're always welcome, so don't try to act like a stranger, ya hear?"
((...))
""...""
I didn't reply, nor did I turn back.
I strolled casually through the port city streets enjoying the sights and smell of the sea one last time before eventually, the fortress gates of Garellia loomed ahead of me, the massive iron-bound doors a stark contrast against the morning sky. The cool wind carried the faint scent of salt and woodsmoke, the distant hum of the harbor a reminder that life in the port city was already in full swing.
I adjusted the strap of my pack, the weight of it settling evenly across my shoulders as I stepped closer to the gate. The world beyond Garellia stretched out in my mind—a quiet road, uninterrupted travel, and the Red Ember anchorage waiting at the end. Everything was planned. Everything was under control.
Or so I thought...
""!!!!""
((This feeling...Its-!))
The first sign was the sudden sharp increase in the ambient Mana concentration causing the scenery to distort and blur in my vision before a faint tremor appeared beneath my boots, subtle at first but quickly escalating. I stopped mid-step, the sensation rippling up my legs as if the earth itself had suddenly drawn a sharp breath.
Then came the sound—a deep, guttural rumble that rolled across the landscape like thunder. It wasn't natural. It wasn't right.
*RRRRRRR!*
((No. No, no, no…))
I turned toward the horizon just as the distant forest trembled. The trees swayed violently, the tops bending as if bowing to some unseen force. A noticeable shifting light similar to the aurora borealis suddenly ripped through the air and painted the sky in it's color, a hazy ripple of mana so dense it warped reality around it.
The guards stationed at the gate froze, their casual banter replaced by the sharp bark of commands and the hurried clatter of boots against stone.
"What's happening?!"
One of them yelled, his voice cutting through the rising panic.
"Leyline rupture! Monster stampede incoming!"
The alarm bells sounded then, their shrill tones slicing through the morning air. The fortress walls erupted into a frenzy of movement as Garellia's defenders scrambled to prepare.
"GRRR!~"
"GAO!~"
"RRRRR!"
The first wave appeared on the horizon—a seething, chaotic mass of creatures pouring out from the forest. Some were familiar shapes, twisted and grotesque versions of wolves, boars, and other beasts. Others were new, monstrous forms that shouldn't exist, their bodies distorted by the raw energy of the Leyline rupture.
((Of course. OF COURSE! A monster stampede! Right now! Right here! The MOMENT I'm about to leave. Because why the f*ck not?!))
I cursed my infernally terrible [luck] stat as I tightened my grip on the strap of my pack, watching as the horde surged closer. The ground trembled harder now, the vibrations pulsing through the air as the monsters barreled toward the city.
"Shut the gates! Archers! To your positions!"
The guards rushed to close the gates, their shouts blending with the shrill cries of the stampede. Archers took their positions on the walls, their bows strung with mana-infused arrows that gleamed faintly in the morning light. Mages stood ready, their hands glowing with the beginnings of defensive spells.
*CRASH!* *BOOM!*
The creatures reached the outskirts of the city in a frenzied wave, slamming into the gates and walls with reckless abandon. The sharp clang of iron meeting claws and the guttural roars of monsters filled the air.
The walls shuddered under the sheer force of the stampede. Massive claws scraped against the fortified stone, and monstrous bodies hurled themselves at the gate, testing its limits with every impact. Dust and debris rained down as the city's defenses groaned under the relentless assault.
*Whoosh!* *Whoosh* *Whoosh!* *Whoosh*
Above, archers fired volley after volley, their mana-infused arrows streaking across the sky like falling stars. Each strike pierced flesh, sending monsters collapsing to the ground, but for every beast felled, two more seemed to take its place. Mages lined the parapets, their hands glowing with intricate sigils as they unleashed bursts of fire and crackling energy. Explosions lit up the battlefield, throwing monstrous forms into the air, but the horde pressed on, undeterred.
"Direct the citizens as far into the city's center as possible! Hold the line! Don't let a single one through!"
"Mages! Get ready!"
"Where's the aerial unit? We need air superiority!"
The guards shouted orders amidst the chaos, their voices barely audible over the cacophony of battle. Arrows and magic crashed into hide, scales and fur, a brutal symphony of survival. Below the walls, the creatures surged forward in a chaotic tide, their bodies piling up against the gate in a desperate attempt to breach the city.
I stepped back, letting the shadows of the gatehouse swallow me. The chaos swirled around me, but I stayed rooted, calculating, observing.
((The walls are holding…barely. But not for long if this keeps up))
The thought flickered briefly, cold and detached.
((I could leave. Slip away in the confusion. It's not my problem. This isn't my fight…))
My eyes tracked the tide of monsters battering against Garellia's defenses, their frenzied attacks sending tremors through the stone. The guards fought valiantly, but their movements betrayed the strain. Some faltered, barely fending off the relentless assault.
((It's unlikely that the city will fall since monster stampedes are one of the things fortress cities like these are built for but if the walls get compromised it wouldn't be a stretch to say that the roads will soon follow…))
The realization settled like a stone in my chest. If Garellia's mighty walls fell, the horde would spill out unchecked. The roads would be unsafe, my route compromised, and my mission delayed—if not derailed entirely.
*Crash!*
As if to prove my point, the monster horde once again crashed and raged against the gate and walls.
""...Haa~""
The sigh escaped before I could stop it, a quiet resignation.
Slipping deeper into the shadows, I ducked behind a stack of crates. My hand hovered over my face, fingers curling into a fist as I braced myself. A faint shimmer enveloped my body, the telltale ripple of a [Polymorph] spell unraveling. The pain came swiftly, sharp and all-encompassing. Bones shifted and cracked, muscles tightened and realigned, and my very form contorted into its true state. The sensation was unbearable but familiar, a necessary cost of maintaining the facade.
When it was over, I stood shorter but sturdier, my lean, battle-hardened frame fully restored. My hair, now shimmering like pale starlight, spilled down to touch my shoulders in the back. I retrieved my gear from a concealed compartment in my pack—gloves that fit like a second skin, and a fresh white mask, featureless save for the faint red sheen that reflected the distant fires of the battlefield.
Finally, I reached for "Mumei". The katana materialized in my hand with a soft, resonant hum, as if I pulled it from the Ether, its polished blade gleaming faintly in the dim light. The weight of it was familiar, grounding, as if the weapon itself was an extension of my will.
((Quickly, efficiently, just thin the horde enough for them to manage...))
I adjusted my grip, the hilt fitting snugly in my palm. The time for observation had passed.
""Hup!""
Scaling the wall was effortless. My enhanced body moved with practiced precision, hands finding purchase in the rough stone as I climbed silently to the parapet. The guards were too preoccupied to notice me, their focus fixed on the horde below.
""...""
From the top of the wall, the scene unfolded in stark detail. The monster stampede was a churning sea of teeth and claws, their glowing eyes reflecting the chaotic energy of the Leyline rupture. In the distance, faint ripples of mana shimmered above the treetops, the source of their frenzy a glaring reminder of the world's volatility.
I didn't linger.
*Tap!*
Dropping from the parapet, I landed almost gracefully amidst the chaos, smack dap in the middle of it all.
"Gah?"
"?"
The monsters turned to look at me momentarily stunned out of their frenzy as they saw a strange masked and hooded figure landing amidst their ranks as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"What the? Who's-"
"Hey! Are you insane?!"
Even the guards were momentarily distracted from their desperate defense upon spotting me land in the middle of the horde.
""Haaaaaa~ you know...""
I said with a long sigh, my voice as low as a casual greeting but as icy as a death threat, I was NOT amused, not even a little bit.
""I really, REALLY don't need this right now...""
Whatever the monsters saw when I looked up at them...
I would make sure that it was the LAST thing they will ever see...
((Sola in morte vita perfici potest. Victoria aut oblivione...))