Rod sat on a rocky outcrop, munching on a piece of dried meat and cheese on a piece of bread, as he watched Vandalar, the great city bathed in gold by the morning light.

Little by little, countless chimneys began to smoke.

This city held many memories that warmed his heart, but the last few months had become suffocating and unbearable.

As much as he loved the place, it was time to leave, even if it was dishonorable to do so in his strange position.

Sometimes, there comes a time in life when we take a good look at the path, and the future doesn't seem very pleasant.

At least he was still young. He could still change.

But not here.

He needs to go far, far away.

Rod looked away, put his hand on his waist, and ran his fingers over a leather bag with gold embroidery.

That thing had cost him all his gold and a little more that he had to withdraw from a family account.

It's ungrateful to steal from relatives. even if they don't need it.

It's small and looks like a bag of coins.

It was a magical bag, bigger on the inside than the outside.

Sellers called it a bag of holding, but it was also known as a witch bag.

And despite the price, it was still worth it, as it was much better than a backpack.

Rod checked the straps that secured the bag to his belt.

Then he checked the sword on the other side and the short bow underneath a heating shield.

Everything needed to be well placed so as not to get in the way, especially on long walks,

Rod repeated the same procedure three more times before he continued.

Finally, he threw a dark green cloak over everything and pulled the hood over his head.

And he started to go down the slope and back to the road heading away from the city.

It would be many years before he returned if he ever did.

It would take him until nightfall to reach the rugged lands at a good pace.

There, he would abandon the main road.

The walk began uncertainly and slowly as it moved away from the city, melancholy, weighed its steps, and held its feet.

A little sadness, too.

It was hard to let go of an entire life, almost like losing a part of yourself.

But little by little, he started to speed up.

The walk became rhythmic, and soon, the mind disconnected from the external world, getting lost in its thoughts.

The golden wheat fields, little by little, dominated the sides of the road, stretching across the entire view.

But Rod paid no attention to the view. Neither did he notice when noon came and went.

Or when he reached the limit of farmland.

Where the grain road.

Split and went in opposite directions, Dividing the large cereal plantations from the rocky lands that marked the beginning of the rugged lands.

Rod only came out of his daze when he hit his foot on a rock, swore at the ground, and then realized he had left the road.

It took him a few moments to reorient himself has gotten dark, and he hadn't noticed.

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Luckily, he could still see the fork landmark in the distance, illuminated by the moon.

Rod let out a heavy sigh and sat down on a large, half-flat gray rock.

He removed the bag from his belt, pulling out a rolled-up map and a lamp.

The lamp was made of iron, with a square shape, one wall of glass, and a handle at the top.

In the center was a small reddish stone.

He turned it from side to side until he found some grooves forming the symbol of a flame.

Then he placed his thumb on it for a few seconds, and the stone lit up like an ember enveloped in white fire.

Rod unrolled the map and illuminated it, tracing his finger over the paper until he located where he was.

From then on, there would be no more roads, only gnarled trees, and rocks that grew larger for miles.

For this reason, he bought a small magic compass on a chain, which he put around his neck.

Made of steel, small with gold runes around it, it cost ten gold coins.

Ordinary compasses were unreliable where magic was strong, and he had no idea how to navigate by the stars.

After checking the map, Rod estimated it would take three to weeks to cross.

The distance was not that far.

But the path was poor. The place had its name for a reason.

He also needed to go away as quickly as possible before they started looking for him, meaning continuing into the night.

It would take about two days before they missed him and another three before they found his trail. He had no doubt they would find it.

The hope was to reach the forest beyond. There was no way to find him there.

The great black forest was a dangerous place. The kind of place that appears in those stories that parents tell to scare children.

But this was very real and terrible.

No one would follow him there. Even if they did, they wouldn't find him there.

Before continuing, he took the bag and removed a loaf of bread with jerked beef and a bottle of wine to push everything down.

The night was clear enough that he wouldn't need the lamp.

After eating, he put everything away and started walking again.

Soon, the rocks began to get bigger. The twisted undergrowth began to give way to wry trees that grew around the boulders.

After a while, it became a mixture of large twisted trees growing between the gigantic rocks.

Some were so close that you could jump from one to the other.

The smell of decaying leaves and dampness had also become strong among the rocks.

It reminded him of the old gardener and his son who tended his mother's gardens when he was little.

It's odd how those old memories keep coming in the last few days.

It had already been three-quarters of the night when tiredness and sleep began to take their toll.

But it was necessary to continue, at least until dawn.

When light began to appear on the horizon, he stopped and sat down on the edge of the large rock.

The path had become increasingly worse, and he had to do some climbing. Perhaps some trails experienced hunters could find, but he had no idea.

Rod had been following the direction the compass indicated. And there were too many boulders on the way.

He took off his gloves, picked up the bag, and from inside, he took out a small black wooden box.

The box was rectangular, about nine inches long and two inches wide, with a lid that opened in the middle with a red wax seal and a fragile ribbon.

The seal symbol looked like an axe, with some letters in a rustic language below.

Inside the box, there was a potion called indefatigable or tireless warrior. But it was popularly known as Devil's Piss.

The orcs created it and spread it along with their mercenaries.

It was so potent that one dose would eliminate all fatigue and sleepiness, allowing you to fight for hours without stopping. But it gave a powerful kick at the end.

However, it was for orcs. And they are big and tough bastards.

Despite this, it had become very popular with the workers, who only the gods know how, had discovered that if you mixed a dose in a barrel of beer, it relieved the fatigue and pain of hard work without side effects afterward.

He held it, ripped off the seal, and opened the lid.

The box had twelve compartments lined up in pairs, and in each was a yellowish bottle the size of a thumb with the mouth sealed with wax.

He took one and rotated it in his hand for a while. He had already tasted the diluted one but never the pure one.

He broke the wax. Inside was bright red liquid. The odor was strong and made his eyes water.

Rod put the bottle to his mouth and said - And here we go. – Then he turned the contents down his throat,

He felt burning as he went down. It felt like he had put a hot iron on his tongue and then swallowed.

Rod grabbed the edge of the stone, tensing his muscles and clenching his teeth as the burning began, radiating from his stomach to other areas, burning them as it passed.

His heartbeat accelerated, and he saw the hot air of his breath distort his vision on a hot day.

He felt the arteries pulsing in his neck, sounding like drums in his ears as the burning rose to his head,

His eyes began to water. His pulse was like drums that trembled in his vision.

For a moment, he thought he had broken his teeth while straining his jaw.

Then, the sensation began to subside and slowly returned to normal.

After a few minutes, it had already passed, and take all the tiredness and sleep with it.

It looked like he had recently woken up from a long, good night's sleep, refreshed for another day.

There was only a bad taste left in his mouth, and he spat on the rock. The thing boiled and disappeared in a cloud of loud, hissing steam.

- That was intense.

He looked at the sun on the horizon over the canopies. The effects would last until nightfall.

Then he would have to take another one. He had enough for six days.

He ate some more bread with dried meat and wine, cleaning up the rest of the taste.

Soon, a strange animation began to take over him. He checked the direction on the compass and looked at a rock ahead at the same height.

It was a good sixty yards to it, with a drop of about fifty in between.

He felt the excitement rise and a terrible desire to try. He took space and prepared himself.

He controlled his breathing and drew the energy from within. He felt the euphoria rise, and his smile widened as he strengthened his body.

Rod accelerated to the edge and jumped, arcing in the air while falling into the middle of the other rock. Without losing momentum, he jumped again to another.