As I walked to the gates of the village, two guards stood watch. They glanced at me as I approached, their postures shifting from boredom to immediate alertness.
As they took in the sight of me—my ragged, destroyed clothes, my body caked in dried mud and older, darker stains, the makeshift weapons of demon horn lashed to my back and hip—their hands tightened around the shafts of their spears with a soft, leathery creak.
My own gaze passed over them, empty and detached, as if they were just more scenery. To them, my eyes must have looked soulless, emotionless, like the eyes of a man who'd stared into hell itself and forgotten how to blink.
The notched ear immediately caught their eye, the wound still fresh and stark against my skin.
I look like I crawled out of hell itself..
Ahem..
I cleared my throat, attempting a glance that I hoped was kind.
Hi.. may i enter the village?
I stared at them, my eyes unblinking.
The guards shared a long, uneasy look before the older one fixed me with a stern glare. His voice was firm, carrying the weight of authority, but a thread of deep-seated worry ran beneath it. "From whence did you come, and what is your business within these walls?"
I came from that forest..
I pointed a thumb over my shoulder toward the brooding wall of trees known as the Forest of Eternal Fog.
Their eyes went wide immediately. The younger guard actually took a half-step back.
"What?!" the older guard barked, disbelief warring with alarm. "You came out of that forest? None pass that tree line. All who enter are trapped and devoured by the beasts within. Even heroes of renown have perished there."
If you don't want to believe me then don't but i did so that's that, and i would like to stay in your village for a while my stomachs killing me.
They glanced from the ominous tree line back to the state of me—the feral glint in my eye, the primal weapons, the sheer aura of having survived the unsurvivable. They had to believe me, even if every instinct screamed otherwise.
"Very well," the older guard conceded, his jaw tight. "But I must ask…" He nudged the younger guard, who swallowed hard and gave a shallow, nervous bow.
The young guard's voice was a mixture of awe and naked fear. "Is that… the true 'Mercury's Mark'?"
I glanced at him a little confused before understanding.
Ah.. the ear, yeah it is.. what about it?
The young guard's face went pale, then flushed with a kind of terrified excitement. "In truth?! It is no wonder you survived the Fogwood, then."
Yeah, whatever could i go in now?
The guards shared one last look, then stepped aside, clearing the path through the sturdy wooden gates without another word.
Thanks..
I offered the simple thanks before walking into the bustling village.
My eyes went wide. The sudden assault of life, color, and sound after the monochrome silence of the forest and plains was overwhelming. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
I continued to walk deeper into the village, my head swiveling to take in the thatched roofs, the cobbled paths, the people in simple tunics and leathers. Then, cutting through it all, a smell hit me—something rich, savory, and utterly amazing. My stomach roared in response.
I immediately changed course, following the scent like a bloodhound.
It led me to a market square, a riot of noise and color, packed with stalls overflowing with goods and, most importantly, delicious-looking food.
I glanced around, a wide, uncontrollable grin splitting my face.
But the people around me reacted differently. They edged away, creating a bubble of empty space. Mothers pulled children close. Men reached for belt knives. My soulless eyes, my filthy appearance, and the sharp, almost predatory set of my teeth did nothing to help.
And then I saw it: a stand laden with cooked, glistening meat skewers.
I immediately went up to it. My eyes scanned every juicy morsel, a small thread of drool escaping the corner of my mouth.
I looked like a fucking weirdo and freak right now.
The stand owner, a wiry man with a stained apron, looked at me with pure alarm, backing away until he hit his own cart.
And then I felt it—the cold, sharp kiss of steel against the side of my neck.
The man holding the spear was large, broad-shouldered, and looked to be in his forties, with a weathered face and eyes that had seen combat. His voice was a low, stern rumble, each word spaced like a threat. "What manner of creature are you? State your purpose."
But as his eyes completed their assessment, they snagged on the notch in my ear. The pressure of his spear point against my neck eased, just a fraction.
I raised my arms slowly, yet my gaze was locked not on him, but on the beautiful, polished steel of his spearhead.
Sorry.. i came from the forest of eternal fog or whatever it's called.
The man's eyes went wide. "From the Fogwood?" He looked me over once more, from my torn feet to my wild hair. My state certainly supported the claim, but believing it was another matter entirely. "Even so, why do you bare your teeth like a starved wolf before the flock? Have you no manners?"
I looked at him, genuinely confused.
What do you mean? I'm only looking around the market and it's amazing food..
My voice was full of a sincere bewilderment, completely unaware that my manic grin and tense posture made me look like a wild beast eyeing its next meal.
The man's stern expression didn't change. "That leer upon your face. It is the grin of a predator, not a man. You look as though you wish to devour the crowd, not their wares."
Do i? My bad..
I then consciously relaxed my face and shoulders, trying to look at least a little decent.
It's just i haven't eaten in days so i can't help myself..
"Days?" he grunted, the sternness in his voice softening a degree. "If you truly came from that place, I suppose it is to be expected." He looked me over one last time, then with a sigh, he released the spear from my neck. In one smooth motion, he tossed two bronze coins onto the stand's counter. "Two of your skewers, goodman."
The stand owner, still terrified, scrambled to hand over two steaming skewers.
The man turned and offered one to me.
And in an instant i take it and devour like no tommorow.
The man just stared in disbelief as I demolished the food in seconds, then silently handed me the second skewer, which met the same fate.
"So," he said, a hint of dry amusement finally coloring his tone. "You spoke truth regarding your hunger."
Mhm.. this is.. it's fucking delicious.
I spoke through the last mouthful, my voice thick with hunger and muffled by chewing.
As I finished, licking the grease from my fingers, I glanced up at him.
Why did you buy them for me?
The man's voice was calm and carried a simple, weathered kindness. "You bear the look of one who has endured much. If you have need, you may come to my home. Clean yourself. I have spare garments you may use."
I immediately answered, my tone happy and full of gratitude.
Yeah i'd be happy if you let me!
...
Soon we stood at the man's doorstep, a modest but well-kept cottage on a quieter lane. He opened the solid oak door and gestured me inside.
"The washroom lies around the corner," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the homely space. "I will find you something to wear."
Yeah, thanks again.
I walked around the corner and into the washroom. It was not so different from a modern one, just older and simpler. A wooden tub sat filled with water. It was room temperature—not nicely warm, not freezing cold, just annoyingly in the middle. But it was the best I'd get, and that was for sure.
I immediately stripped off the destroyed, ragged remnants of my clothing. My shirt, more a collection of strips and holes, I simply pulled apart. My pants were shredded into shorts. My shoes were so ruined the fronts were completely gone; they looked like I'd been mauled by a bear.
I removed everything and jumped into the bath.
And it was the best feeling I had felt in a long, long time. The water, even lukewarm, was a baptism, washing away layers of mud, blood, and forest grime.
...
A half hour later, I was out, using a rough towel to scrub my skin pink. Then, abruptly, the man opened the door, a bundle of clothes in his hands.
I immediately covered myself, embarrassed.
The man just chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound, before tossing the clothes at me and turning his back. "At least some modesty remains to you. Good."
Uhuh..
My voice was quiet. I was dying of embarrassment.
I started to put on the clothes. They were simple—brownish, homespun tunic and trousers in an old style—and they were two sizes too big for me, hanging off my frame.
The man stared, confused. "Boy, what manner of famine have you endured? These are garments from my own youth."
Then i lift up the shirt showing my torso and you could clearly see my ribs.
The man's eyes widened before he let out a soft, incredulous chuckle. "By the heavens. How did you walk out of the Fogwood with such a frame?"
I glance up at him and answer simply.
Luck.. i guess..
I released the hem of the shirt, letting it fall back over my torso. My deepish blue eyes, which looked like an endless sea of emptiness, could not belong to a man who escaped that forest with "mere" luck.
The man only chuckled, a sound tinged with skepticism. As he was about to ask further, my stomach growled—a long, loud, and deeply pathetic rumble that echoed in the small washroom.
"...I see the belly yet protests," he observed. He turned and headed for the door. His hand rested on the hinge, and he paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Do you come? I will not have you perish of hunger under my roof." He chuckled.
I quickly followed, padding after him barefoot, patting my stomach in anticipation and hunger.
He showed me to a worn but sturdy chair in the kitchen before rummaging through his cabinets, emerging with eggs, a hunk of smoked meat, and a few other ingredients. He arranged them on the counter and moved to the oven—a brick hearth with wood stacked inside.
But then he just raised his palm toward the kindling and said, "Flame."
A small, compact ball of fire shot from his palm and landed amidst the wood with a whump, igniting it instantly.
My eyes went wide with amazement.
What the- did you just use Magic?!
My voice was filled with disbelieving wonder.
The man stood up as the fire caught properly. He turned to me and lifted an eyebrow, looking more confused than anything before letting out a light chuckle. "What sorcery is this? Have you never witnessed the weave of magic?"
I look at the man and nod my eyes still a little wide and amazed.
Yeah.. that was the first time i've seen it..
The man smiled a little at my expression, but it was a smile that soon faded into deeper scrutiny. He looked me over again, as if seeing me for the first time. Could this boy truly bear Mercury's mark if he was ignorant of the very arcane?
"You claim to have never seen the Art before this hour?" he asked, his tone measured. "And yet you have stood before the Mercury and bear her sigil. One does not earn such a mark without being… noteworthy. If you are ignorant of magic, and possess a form such as this…" He gestured vaguely at my thin frame, his bewilderment growing. "Then by what miracle did you pass through the Fogwood and live?"
He stared, waiting, just getting more befuddled every time I opened my mouth.
I thought back for a moment—to the plains, to her. The crack in the sky… that had to be magic, right? But the state of my mind then hadn't been interested in anything but survival. Thinking back to the forest… without my Death Reborn ability, I wouldn't have made it out. That was for sure.
Then i just sigh not wanting to explain all of the stuff that happened to me and there's a chance he wouln't even believe me.
It's.. it's complicated i guess..
I responded, my voice calm and a little tired.
The man stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, before he decided to let it go. He gave a slow, understanding nod. "I see. Dark roads leave few tales worth the telling. I shall press no further."
He turned back to the stove. A few minutes later, a simple but hearty meal of fried eggs and seared meat was ready. He slid it onto a plate and set it before me. "Eat. I'll not be known as a poor host."
I grin happily imiediedly digging in like my life depends on it.
this is amazing!
I munched down the meal in large, rapid bites. In minutes, the plate was clean.
Haaaaa.. that was delicious, thank you
I put a hand on my now-full stomach with a happy sigh.
"You are welcome," the man said, a genuine warmth in his smile. He glanced at a sun-mark carved into the wall. "The day wears on. My duties at the guild await."
He then took up his spear, slinging the familiar weapon onto his back with practiced ease. He turned for the door but stopped, looking back. "Will you remain here, or follow?"
I glanced around the lovely, safe home, a part of me wanting to stay and savor the peace. But a stronger pull urged me to see more of this new world. Rest could wait.
I stood up from the table, collecting my makeshift demon-horn weapons and securing them at my sides and back.
I'm going.
I grinned a little before stepping to the man's side.
As we walked through the village, people greeted the man—calling out "Don!" or "Silverblade!"—with clear happiness and respect.
Din't know you where so famous..
I sarcastically grinned, clasping my hands behind my head in a carefree pose.
The man—Don—chuckled at my comment. "In years past, I walked the adventurer's path. I did my part to keep these walls safe."
Oh?
I felt a spark of intrigue.
Well no wonder you pointed a blade at me, your a warrior huh.. Hmmm.. now that i think about it i don't know your name?
Don glanced at me, a faint smile on his face. "I am Don Silverblade. Once, they named me an A-rank hunter." He smiled, a touch of nostalgia in his eyes. "Now, I am but a old sword on the wall." He chuckled.
I glance at him a little confused.
Old? You barely look in your 40s?
The man just chuckled, seeming genuinely flattered. "You are too kind. I have seen fifty-seven winters, boy."
My eyes went wide with surprise.
What?! 57 your genes must be amazing if your 57.
Don once more chuckled at my flattery. "My thanks. Flattery will earn you little, but it is welcome."
...
After a few more minutes of walking, we stopped in front of a clean, two-story wooden building with a sign depicting a dark red bird in flight, a stylized blade crossing behind it.
"Here we are," Don said, his posture straightening slightly. "The Hummingbird Guild."
My mouth fell open. My eyes sparkled with pure excitement.
Woaaaa..
Don patted my shoulder, chuckling warmly at my reaction. "You gaze upon it as one who has never seen a guildhall."
Yea, i haven't..
I responded, still staring at the guild with unabashed awe.
Don's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his chuckle returned, softer now. "From what backwoods did you spring, boy? Very well. Cease your gawking and come inside." He took a step toward the door, then glanced back over his shoulder. "Well? Do you tarry?"
Yeah, yeah i'm coming.