John wiped off the blood from the steel sword.
“I guess that’s enough for today,” he stood and turned to his back. The forest floor was littered with dead corpses of goblins. After his first kill, the stench of blood lured these one-minded creatures, baiting them into John’s range as they met their doom. The numbers piled up to twenty or so. He got lucky to be fair, dealing one at a time wasn’t much of a big deal for him. Yet there were a couple of times when two of them came at the same time, but with his agility, he made quick work of it.
By the end of the day, John wasn’t squeamish anymore over dead goblin corpses.
The light was getting dimmer in the forest and the sky was showing the sign of approaching dusk. “Time to go back.”
He left the woods, sprinting at full force. Running in the plains as the night was catching up to him, another announcement emerged.
[https://i.imgur.com/4nbc2rb.jpg]
Narrowing his eyes, he wondered. ‘The running skill rose up two times in a single day. While my iaido doesn’t even register as a skill even after killing twenty goblins. I wonder how it works? Should I practice my kata this evening?’
Getting a sword skill especially in regards to his iaido was his main priority. He had been curious about how to do it but never had the chance. Now, he had all the time he needed.
As soon as night took over the sky, John reached the northern gate of the town. This time, he went through without any hassle. It seemed his appearance didn’t warrant a suspicion. ‘I guess the hoodie really looks weird compared to half-naked under a leather armor,’ tilting his head, he trod through the dusty road as shops on the main street were closing.
“Hey, nomad!” a familiar voice rang from the distance, a man was waving his hand from afar.
‘Damn, those metal grieves of his are really shining,’ just from the metal grieve, John knew who it was. He headed towards Randal as the guardsman was right in front of the saloon.
“The Master told me you went hunting,” Randal scanned him top to bottom. “But judging from how clean you look and no loot..." Randal shook his head, "tough luck, my friend.” Randal squeezed John by the shoulder and took the lead to the saloon.
“Should I tell him?” he pondered. “Nah, probably not.”
John went inside and the Master greeted him with a nonchalant wave.
“Give me the usual, Master,” Randal said.
“Again with the tab?” the Master barely glanced at Randal, his hands and eyes were busy cleaning the tankards.
“You know how it is, I’ll pay you back by the end of the month,” Randal said.
But the impassive Master changed as soon as John took a seat at the counter. “What would you like for the evening, Sir Creed? A few plates of steaks? Or you want a refreshing drink first?”
Randal’s mouth fell. His eyes kept glancing between John and the Master. “And what the hell is this?”
“Bugger off, Randal. Sir Creed deserved a peaceful dinner,” said the Master.
“Hey, Nomad,” Randal turned to John. “What kind of arcane spell did you cast on the old Master? I know you’re new and all, but using spells to your advantage is–”
“Oh, shut it, Randal,” the Master gave a nice slap at the back of Randal’s head. Enough to silence the Captain of the guardsmen for a while. “Sir Creed here is a fine man, he wouldn’t do such thing as you said.”
“Is this how it is, Master? We’ve known each other for so long, and you’re siding with a nomad than your best friend,” Randal sounded in pain, or he might be feigning it. “I’m hurt, you know. Deeply hurt, like multiple knives right in my heart.”
The Master grabbed a fruit knife under the counter and Randal bolted a few steps away. “Where're you going? I thought you said you felt multiple knives in your heart?”
“Jest has its limit, Master, and this…is crossing the line,” Randal pointed at the imaginary line he made on the floor.
“Mr.Randal,” John chimed in.
“Not now, Nomad. I have a feud that needs to be settle,” Randal glared at Master with fists in the air.
“Tell me what you wanted to say last night and I’ll treat you for the night,” John said.
Randal looked at John, sizing him up. For someone who was half-naked under the leather armor, he was proposing quite an offer. But he doubted whether the nomad could pay even a tankard of the mildest drink in this saloon.
“If I were you, Randal, I’ll take up the offer,” the Master gave his thought. And for someone like Master who loved money to say it like that, John must have something special.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Very well then,” Randal inched slowly to the counter and took his seat. “Serve me the finest, Master, and triple the number.”
“And you Sir Creed?” the Master turned to John.
“A plate of steak, and plain water, please,” John said.
“Plain water? Are you mad, nomad?” Randal didn’t understand John’s taste.
“Master,” John ignored Randal. “Would you please cancel Randal’s order.”
“As you wish,” the Master smirked.
“Wait, I take that back,” Randal said. “I’m just joking, Sir Greed, it’s just to lighten up the mood.”
“It’s Creed, not Greed,” John said.
“Apologies, apologies,” Randal raised his palms. “You’ve to understand we people here are not used to those kinds of names.”
“It’s fine. So what is it you want to tell me last night?” John went straight to the point.
“Ah, before that, what do you know about yourself? Haven’t you been wondering why you’re called a nomad?” Randal asked.
“Because I’m not from around here?” John guessed.
“Not quite. Unlike us people in this saloon and in this town, you, my friend, are different. You’re here to save the world,” Randal said.
John questioned saving the world part since that kind of magnitude was way above him. But he had to ask. “What do you mean save the world? You mean this world?”
“And that’s something I’m not sure of. It could be this world, your world, and any other kind of world out there…”
John felt pretty disappointed there.
“…the point is you’re different. Along with the rest of you nomads who kept popping each year in random intervals,” but that last bit of Randal’s world tugged him.
“Wait, you mean people like me are common?” this new revelation was shocking. Although he assumed he wasn’t the first yet he never thought it would be this frequent.
“Yea, I know right. It’s pretty weird when you think about it, people coming out of nowhere and it had been going on for…I don’t know, I don’t remember that part. You remember that part, Master?” Randal turned to the listening Master.
“Give or take, a thousand years or so,” the Master calmly said.
John couldn’t believe his ears. If this whole thing had been ongoing for the last a thousand years then the missing case person would be astronomical. It seemed whatever that was going on here, John was thrust into the middle of it.
“Does saving the world means going to the next realm?” John asked what he had been dying to know.
“About that, I’ve only heard rumors,” Randal wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate to divulge such untrusted information.
“At this point, even a rumor would be helpful,” John urged the Guardsmen’s Captain.
“Hmm, if you say so…so, this rumor I heard is when I paid a visit to a pub in Luton City, they’ve got these amazing kebabs and you have to try one–”
“The story Randal,” The Master steered Randal back.
“Sorry bout that, and the rumors go like this, once a nomad reached their pinnacle state, they would climb Mount Avilogne and face the final trial. If they pass, they will ascend to the next realm,” Randal said. “It sounds simple and all, but I’ve heard many died in the process. In my opinion, you nomads got it pretty rough.”
John delved into the matter spoken by Randal. ‘If I’m not wrong, ascension is just another term to go to the next level. But why does Fellelone want to go to the next realm? Why can’t she just go on her own?’
“Randal,” John called. “Is there anyone else besides the nomads that managed to ascend?”
To his question, both Randal and the Master stared at him in surprise. Their heads turned down as their eyes wandered across the floor. The mood went down instantly as if John had touched a nerve.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, glancing between these two.
“Pardon our behavior, Sir Creed, it just that reality never been fond of us,” said the Master. He stopped cleaning his tankards and mug, throwing the wiping cloth below the counter. “Excuse me, but there’s work need to be done at the back.”
The Master left, leaving behind the counter unattended. The forlorn look he had worried John.
“Don’t mind the Master,” Randal nudged John by the shoulder. “He’s always like that when being reminded of our limits.”
“Limits?” more untold things kept popping. It seemed this evening was going to be a lot of info-dumping.
“Remember when I said that we’re different?”
John nodded.
“Well, unlike you nomads, we people of this world have a threshold that we cannot overcome. A restriction on our levels, like a dog being tied on a pole,” Randal stared at his tankard, lost in his own thought.
John pitied the man, but his mind was thinking about only one person. ‘Is this how I get Felllelone to the next realm?’ it was a hard question to answer and not a lot of info he could rely on. But for now, he at least had a goal in sight. ‘It might not be it, but at least I need to try to figure out how to break out these limits.’
As John pondered, he heard Randal’s voice.
“Hey, Creed. It’s been in my mind for a while now, but you being here is a rather strange sight if you ask me,” Randal opened up about the thing that bothered him.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Satbury town isn’t the most desirable place for nomads. Usually, you people would pass through Tidig village and then to Borjak town as someone told me that your kind always appeared near those places. But never Satbury. This town of ours is too far from Tidig, and the beasts around here were more or less the same similar to Borjak town,” Randal took a sip of his drink. “And most of those nomads who came here had already known who they are. But not like you.”
John felt the scrutinizing gaze of Randal as if he was trying to figure out John’s deepest secret.
“You’re a new one, fresh off the boat,” Randal said, chuckling over his boat remark. “But a beginner shouldn’t be around here unless you survived through that cursed forest.”
Randal waited for an answer but John maintained his silence.
“You know just this morning, a report said that some vine walls had been erected across the whole tree line. Do you know anything about it?” Randal pried.
There was silence for a while. And John broke it.
“What if I said I came from there? Would you believe me?” John looked Randal straight in the eye.
“Bah, nonsense,” Randal scoffed, chugging down the last bit of his drink. “No one could escape that part of Crown Deer Forest, not even you nomads. Even those nomads who paid a visit to this town never came back from those dark woods. I reckoned you probably came from the west and got lost in the plains before seeing the fire on the walls. ”
Randal got up from his seat and walked past John. “But if you’re telling me the truth…I envy you. To have that much luck, an angel is probably looking after you.”
Randal tapped John’s shoulder as a sign of goodbye, heading towards the door.
“Just one drink?” John asked.
“Save the rest for me tomorrow,” Randal walked away and left the premise with his shoulders slouched.
John sat there alone as more people were coming in. They enjoyed their time with their own company as John sat there fiddling with his precious ring.
“Here you go,” a waitress served his dinner and John ate until he was full. He retreated to his room as the leather armors fell off from his body, leaving him bare in his brief.
Smelling his armpit out of curiosity, John grimaced. ‘I really need a shower.’
Yet before he could leave, his phone caught his eye. He stared at it for a while, and it got him thinking.
‘Wait a second, didn’t Fellelone run away from that phone?’
In that single instance, John grasped the missing piece. His eyes bulged open and he snatched his phone from the bed.
“It’s the phone, the key to saving her is this phone!”