After waking up, Mikhail found himself in a place unlike anything he had ever seen before. He blankly surveyed his surroundings, noticing a curious line of weathered stone bricks within the pearly waters of a mysterious swamp. This created a path that beckoned him forward.

In the distance, a blurry landscape emerged, shrouded in a thick mist and enveloped by the murky embrace of the waters. Weeping willows swayed gently in the unseen breeze, their twisted branches casting warped shadows on to the damp ground. The area was eerily silent, devoid even of the sounds of insects, birds, or beasts.

The calm was almost haunting.

Embracing childlike curiosity, Mikhail stood up and began walking. His steps were hesitant yet determined, like a fearless explorer embarking on a perilous journey.

𝘏𝘶𝘩, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐'𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

As he walked, he felt that his initial fears had vanished, and that he was better off resting.

Mikhail navigated through the mist-shrouded path. The once still air was broken only by the splashing of his footsteps hitting the water, echoing ominously in the surreal landscape.

The shifting mists seemed to dance around him, forming images that seemed almost real. A green knight cloaked in shadows, a towering heap of bones gleaming in the dim light, and a slumbering maiden whose presence sent shivers down his spine.

𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭.

He took a deep breath and mentally tried to examine his condition, but found it hard to focus properly.

A growing lethargy began to consume Mikhail, silently tempting him with the seductive allure of sleep. The desire grew to a point where he genuinely began to consider if it was better to simply give in.

He was even tempted to rest on the floor for a bit as it wasn't new to him.

When he lived in the orphanage, he was made to sleep on the dirty floor under the guise of "not enough room." Sometimes they'd make him sleep on the nearby streets. Mikhail wasn't sure if this was done in the hopes of getting rid of him, as he did earn a bit of extra money.

Although any earnings he made were always taken away. But it didn't really matter; he would always return in the end.

However, now wasn't the time to dwell on bad memories.

Mikhail realized that the longer he stayed there, the more a profound weariness crept into his bones. He found himself in a constant battle to stay conscious.

At that moment, a humanoid shape emerged from the pale mist. A tall armored man appeared before him.

“Begon shadow, return to the fog. You will not fool me twice.”

After the armoured man finished his declaration, he rushed forward, his sword raised high.

“Whoa, hey! I just got here!”

But the man remained unswayed, closing in with deadly precision. The edge of his blade was dangerously close to Mikhail's neck. However, in a surprising twist, the armored man suddenly collapsed to the ground.

After a moment of silence, Mikhail cautiously approached and prodded the body with his foot. He quickly confirmed the armoured man was truly unconscious.

Then, he thought for a moment, before claiming the long sword for himself.

Soon, he began to worry that the armoured man's fate would soon be his own. He struggled to stay awake, battling the call of sleep and mud on his shoes.

As time passed, Mikhail could barely distinguish between reality and a dream as the swamp water covered him like silk.

Frantically searching for an escape, he quickly spotted a small cave in the distance. With no other options, he sprinted towards it, battling growing exhaustion and challenging terrain that impeded his progress at every step.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵? 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺.

After blaspheming inwardly for a bit, he hurriedly stumbled into the cave.

Upon entering, Mikhail found it to be cramped and dim, with a chilling wind wafting through a narrow gap at the far end.

He greedily gulped down the crisp, cold air, savoring the slight relief it brought.

Mikhail looked down as his head was pressed against the wall. His eyes fell upon a group of blue mushrooms with small white spots peeking out from below.

𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘴!

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Recalling his previous knowledge, he knew these fungi were commonly used for their energy-boosting properties. They were often ground up, mixed with other plants, and even smoked. He had once infused them into his own concoction of alcohol, knowing their stimulating effects.

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘏𝘮, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵.

He eagerly plucked two of the seven mushrooms and began to chew them thoroughly. The bitter taste made him frown, but also triggered a memory.

In the past, when money was low, Mikhail and Evalina had survived on meager rations of bread and bitter mushrooms. Despite his frustration, Evalina had found a way to turn the meager ingredients into mushroom soup. On that day, she revealed the hidden joy of dipping bread into the flavorful broth.

𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘯, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺.

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺.

Following a growl from his stomach, Mikhail rummaged through his bag for flint, steel, and a few logs. With skilled hands, he created a small pit, igniting the pile with ease.

The breeze posed a slight challenge, but having endured harsh winter nights on the streets made the task seem effortless.

“I should have enough provisions to last me a week at most.”

He ate a few pieces of jerky as he fed the small fire. He decided his current location would be a temporary shelter until he found something better. The main reason for his choice was the ever-present mist.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

After washing down his snack with some water, he took out his silver dagger and what looked like a magic textbook or weird encyclopedia.

“This should do.”

Mikhail quickly prepared everything. The only items within his reach were the dagger and the book, while the rest of his belongings, including his sword leaned casually against the cave wall to his left. Though Mikhail was tempted to take a deep breath to steady his nerves, he resisted, wanting to use the mushrooms sparingly.

As the flames danced before him, the difficulty of the task ahead finally settled in.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵? 𝘈𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦—

𝘚𝘯𝘢𝘱!

At that moment, he heard the sound of a snapping branch. The thoughts in Mikhail's mind immediately went to being stalked by a creature who smelt the smoke from the fire. He frowned at his carelessness before raising his sword, and sliding his trusty dagger into his pocket.

𝘚𝘯𝘢𝘱! 𝘚𝘯𝘢𝘱! The noise was getting closer.

Swiftly smothering the fire, Mikhail pointed his weapon at the cave's mouth.

Suddenly, a man emerged from the shadows.

“Take another step and you'll regret it,” he warned the man, already resigned to murder.

“Dammit, more voices? This—hic—never bodes well. What a pain.”

The slurred words of the man put Mikhail on edge. As he observed the drunkard, he noted the man's attire— a white shirt over a leather cuirass, black trousers, and black boots.

The drunkard also wore a bright red scarf and a simple sword on his hip. Despite his disheveled appearance, the intruder possessed a rugged handsomeness.

The man moved with an unexpected swiftness, drawing his blade silently before lunging at Mikhail.

𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯?! 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳? His muscles tensed as he knew it was impossible to dodge.

When the two clashed, he was on his knees in an instant. As opposed to the drunkard's deceptively slim frame, he possessed the strength of five grown men.

He was going to lose.

“You're real? Or am I attacking a strange tree?” the drunkard mused, his gaze locked on Mikhail, probing and curious.

Mikhail frowned due to a strong odor of alcohol, causing the drunkard to smile, as if familiar with his unhappy expression. He took a few unsteady steps back, then fell flat on his rear, letting out a hoarse laugh.

“Hic! So you 𝘢𝘳𝘦 real! Hey kid, you don't have anything to drink do you?”

𝘐𝘴-𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴?

Mikhail propped himself up with his sword. He regarded the man with a mix of annoyance and disbelief.

“Don't give me that look, hic! 'Tis the season for sharing, isn't it? I'm also your senior.”

𝘈𝘩, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘸? 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦. 𝘏𝘮𝘮, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮?

The drunkard seemed to have noticed his dark expression. His gaze darted around in a panic until it landed on the magic textbook.

“Brup! Apologies for prying. But that book – you're aiming to become a Disciple, aren't you? I can offer my assistance. While I may not hold the title myself, I assure you, I am more than capable.”

“And why should I trust or believe anything you say?”

The drunkard smiled and reached into a small pouch on his side, retrieving what appeared to be a statue. It was crafted from weathered, dark grey stone, and resembled a fae adorned with pointy ears and bright purple crystals for its eyes. A faded emblem was carved on to its chest, but it was too worn to identify clearly.

Unexpectedly, the statue spoke:

“Broken.”

Mikhail was astonished. He glanced up at the drunkard, who, despite the lower half of his face being covered, was clearly smiling. He turned his attention back to the peculiar statue and examined it, but couldn't figure out how it worked.

“Erm, can you hear me?”

“Who?”

“I am just a traveler. I just want—”

“What? Master? No.”

“... No, my name is Mikhail.”

“Wan must... message! W-Wan must m-m-m...”

The statue's voice trailed off, leaving an awkward silence. Mikhail's gaze flickered between the now-silent statue and the drunkard's smug expression.

“Quite impressive, don't you think? Hic! How many have the privilege of laying eyes on such a marvel? And if you remain unconvinced, I'm willing to split the treasure that's around here: 80-20, sound fair?”

Mikhail was stunned for a moment but quickly calmed down and said, “As unique as that statue is, what do you get from this and why should I even trust you?”

“Well, I'm not doing this for free, you know? Hic! I hope you'll let me stay in the cave with you and share some of your supplies. Of course, I'm no leech! As I just said, I'll tell you everything I know. And if you want to trust me, I'll make a divine oath if you want.”

“I am not a big fan of the so-called Goddess of Truth.

The man paused before he let out a hoarse laugh and said, “Haha! Me neither, kid.”

Mikhail considered the offer.

𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.

As he made his decision, Mikhail stood up and held out his hand.

“Okay. We have a deal, Mr...?”

“Von. Von Giest.”

And with that, the two shook hands, confirming their partnership.