In the late night as moonlight poured through the glass ceiling of the tower, the party sat around a small wooden table in Amella’s room, enjoying beer.
“Ahh, it’s so refreshing.”
Kyle quickly emptied his glass, grimacing as he let out a rough breath. One of his eyes was swollen shut, a consequence of his comment about how the room smelled like a single woman’s, which earned him a punch from Amella as they entered.
“Drink as much as you want. You don’t have to worry about a hangover today.”
“Haah…”
Despite the words meant to cheer him up, Kyle let out a heavy sigh, catching Amella’s curious gaze.
“What’s wrong? Do you still feel sick?”
“No, it’s not that… It’s just that… I can’t believe it’s finally over.”
At the unexpected words, Amella let out a low laugh.
“Are you feeling sentimental? That after a journey where we’ve been on the move from dusk till dawn, fighting monsters and demons, it’s coming to an end?”
Kyle clapped his hands.
“Exactly! It’s not just that, but… Ruon, are you just going to continue to drink beer after everything we’ve been through?”
Suddenly, as the conversation’s arrow flew his way, Ruon put down the beer he was drinking and said, “Are you trying to talk about camaraderie or something?”
Kyle dipped his glass into the barrel full of beer and mumbled the end of his sentence.
“Well, that’s a bit vague…”
Then Amella spoke.
“What will the two of you do now?”
She said “the two of you”, but her gaze was directed at Ruon.
Ruon replied concisely, “I’ll move wherever my feet take me.”
“Yes, I thought you’d answer like that.”
Amella turned her head to look at Kyle.
“What about you?”
“I don’t know… I haven’t really thought about it yet.”
Even as he spoke, his eyes seemed to follow Ruon, as if he wanted to join him. However, when Ruon remained expressionless and silent, Kyle let out a soft sigh.
“Let’s talk about this later. We’re not parting ways right away, after all.”
He raised his beer glass, trying to lighten the mood.
“Shall we make a toast?”
***
Looking down at Kyle, who had fallen face-first onto the table, Ruon quietly stood up.
After quickly checking his equipment, he tried to open the door silently when he heard someone rustling, getting out of bed.
“Kyle will be disappointed, won’t he?”
Ruon turned his head toward Amella as she approached, stretching.
“You didn’t fall asleep?”
“I happened to wake up.”
Perhaps thinking her words sounded like nonsense, Amella chuckled softly.
“You seem like the kind of person who wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, so I waited, pretending to sleep, and I guess it worked.”
As she said that, she took out two bottles and handed them to Ruon.
One red potion was made with troll blood, something Ruon was familiar with, but the shimmering purple potion was unfamiliar. Ruon accepted the bottles with a puzzled expression.
“This one is a personal thanks from me.”
“A personal thanks?”
Looking at the purple potion, Ruon asked while Amella laughed.
“Don’t worry. It’s not poison. You can drink it right away if you want.”
“Really?”
Flicking the cap away with his thumb, Ruon immediately gulped down the contents of the bottle.
As the thick liquid passed down his throat, his heart began to race at an alarming speed. He asked, “What is this?”
“It makes your bones and muscles stronger and more resilient. If an ordinary person used it, they would experience a dramatic change, but with your physical abilities, the change might not be as significant.”
Contrary to Amella’s concerns, Ruon felt his strength and stamina increase slightly, and he smiled happily.
“No, I’m quite satisfied.”
“Are you leaving now?”
“As you can see.”
“I can’t stop you, huh?”
Amella shook her head, chuckling.
“Just walk straight forward after leaving the tower. If you walk for about a day, you’ll arrive at the village where you rode the hippogriff.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Nodding his head, Ruon added some words before turning around.
“When that woodcutter wakes up, tell him we’ll meet again if the opportunity arises.”
“Sure, I got it.”
There was no need for more trivial conversation. Ruon and Amella lightly shook hands, and that was their farewell.
As Ruon descended the spiral staircase, Amella spoke softly as she watched him.
“Take care.”
***
“Fascinating.”
Ruon stretched his hand in admiration as the once flat ground transformed into a steep cliff.
Seeing his hand disappear in mid-air as if it had been severed, he passed through the invisible barrier and turned his head.
He didn’t know if he would have a chance to return here again, so he carefully scanned the surrounding terrain with his eyes as he descended the quiet mountain path. Suddenly, he looked back.
‘It might be a bit lonely for a while.’
He thought that a wandering life had taken away most of his lingering emotions, but seeing himself turn back subconsciously, he realized that it might not be entirely true.
However, as always, he moved forward once again, leaving the past behind.
***
“Thirsty.”
Becky struggled to moisten her parched lips. No matter how hard she tried to move her dry tongue, only groans escaped from her mouth.
The rope that stole her freedom had caused excruciating pain as time passed, digging into her tender flesh.
“Dirty witch.”
A middle-aged man, who used to exchange playful jokes with her in the village, spat venomous words and a vile phlegm as he passed by.
“Die, witch!”
A child, whom she had cared for since infancy, hurled a stone at her with his grimy hands.
In her clouded consciousness, Becky asked herself a fundamental question: why had things come to this?
No matter how many times she thought about it, it all began when a woman named Sela came to town.
Sela’s beauty was enough to shake up the rural village, and after becoming the mistress of the aging village chief, who had been widowed years prior, she quickly rose to prominence.
Becky didn’t care much about it.
She just thought it was pretty clever of Sela to pander to the old man.
One late night, unable to sleep, Becky stepped outside, hoping the fresh air might help. And there she saw it—Sela entering Kuhn’s house.
It was clear what was going on, so, blushing, Becky went back inside her house.
The sight of the secret rendezvous left a deep impression, and she struggled to fall asleep that night. But when she finally woke up from her restless sleep, she heard an unbelievable piece of news.
Kuhn had been found dead in his house, the blood drained from his body, leaving an eerie corpse.
Terrified, Becky made up her mind to inform the villagers of what she had witnessed.
Approaching the crowd gathered at the tragic scene, she was about to speak up when Sela shouted, “It’s her! I saw her entering Kuhn’s house!”
Overwhelmed by the fervent tears welling up in Sela’s eyes, the villagers turned their heads toward Becky in unison.
Becky couldn’t recall what happened next.
Her hair was ripped out, her clothes torn, and her hands and feet crudely bound. The vague memory she had was of people cursing and throwing stones at her.
She tried to shout that it wasn’t true, that Sela was lying, that she wasn’t the real culprit.
Realizing that her blood-curdling screams were met with nothing but curses and stones, Becky eventually stopped talking.
The people, who strangely trusted Sela’s word, sentenced her to die as the dead Kuhn had, and so the morning of the third day dawned.
‘Gods, please help me.’
In the haze of her mind, as she desperately called for help from the gods, she realized that the sunlight wasn’t touching her face.
She looked up and saw a giant man standing there.
His face was obscured by the sun, but his deep, unwavering black eyes were clearly visible.
There was no anger or disgust in those eyes, so Becky squeezed out a raspy voice.
“S-save me—“
Instead of answering, the man pulled a canteen from his backpack and held it to Becky’s mouth.
As the cool water touched her lips and trickled down her throat, an overwhelming sense of freshness washed over her body, making her shiver.
As her vision cleared, she could see the man’s appearance clearly.
Tall stature, broad shoulders, and muscular arms with veins twisting beneath the skin.
With an imposing exterior, his low, deep voice resonated.
“What’s going on here?”
At that question, Becky burst into tears. For the past three days, no one had asked her such a question.
As she struggled to compose herself and open her mouth, the villagers came pouring out.
“Who are you?”
“Did you give water to that witch? Are you insane?”
“Get out of here! Outsider!”
The situation had escalated quickly.
Ruon let out a quiet sigh. He’d ridden into the village he’d found on the first day of the new month, and in the center of the village was a woman, tied up and sobbing.
He’d given her a sip of water and asked her a question, and that was enough to bring everyone in the village out of hiding, which left him bewildered.
The crowd growled with threatening menace, ready to attack at a moment’s notice.
Not only men but also women, children, and the elderly all came out, surrounding the area and starting to shout loudly.
Ruon, who had turned into the center of attention in an instant, looked at the trembling woman with his shoulders hunched and spoke.
“Why is this woman tied up?”
In response to his question, the crowd erupted, shouting frantically.
“She’s a witch!”
“She’s a demon who killed an innocent villager!”
“She should die just like him! The same death!”
Ruon scratched his head. No matter how he looked at it, the woman trembling before him didn’t seem like a witch or a demon. How could ordinary rural people overpower such a creature in the first place?
The situation didn’t make sense, and he didn’t need intuition to know that.
However, seeing the crowd’s restless eyes, it seemed that logical reasoning wouldn’t get through to them.
Ruon growled lowly.
“Can you all shut up?”
Saying that, he turned his head and scanned each face with his eyes.
Those hiding behind the shield of the crowd cowered and bowed their heads when they met Ruon’s stern gaze.
‘That’s better.’
As silence settled, Ruon gave a faint smile.
Then someone shouted.
“Who are you to persecute our villagers and help a witch?”
Turning his head in the direction of the sharp voice, he saw a blonde woman with a sensual figure emerge from behind the crowd.
As Ruon stared intently at the blond woman, a raspy voice emanated from the bound woman.
“…It’s her.”
Though her words were disjointed, Ruon seemed to understand and nodded briefly.
“Looks like it.”
The Holy Sword at his waist trembled slightly. Holding the hilt tightly, Ruon sensed the hostile emotions contained within it.
Without hesitation, he drew the sword. In response, the blond woman let out a pale screech.
“He’s in league with the witch!”
As the villagers began to react in agreement, Ruon spoke firmly.
“Let’s put a hold on the acting.”
