It took a day to reach Corinth.

The journey started simple enough, but by the midway point, they had to move around, taking some detours for a simple reason: rivers. Rivers snaked about the landscape, and to get to Corinth, one had to follow them. It would be far easier to cross the rivers, however, as there were no bridges, it wasn’t an easy feat. There had been bridges there, once, but sadly the current of the water was too strong and they usually just broke down. Making sturdier bridges required [Mages] and that was expensive. After all, they had no structures, or blueprints, to make sturdy bridges without [Mages]. Hmm. Yeah, I should definitely lay the foundations for better bridges. Ethan wondered while on the journey. Regardless, the carriage rumbled all the way through. The muddy soil seemed to cause some friction, but the axle seemed to have been made of some sturdy alloy and the wheels, well, the wheels were massive—around a meter in diameter.

Thus, thanks to its sturdy wheels, the journey went quite smoothly. Thankfully, they didn’t encounter any bandits, either.

The carriage lurched to a halt, dust billowing from the massive wheels as they settled. Ethan cracked his neck, the day’s journey stiffening his muscles. “Finally,” he groaned, stretching his arms. “Thought this river would never end.”

Roland hopped down, offering a hand to help Ethan down. “Almost there, my lord. Corinth awaits. However, we stopped because of something else.”

They stepped off the muddy road and onto a patch of dry grass. Ethan squinted ahead, noticing a commotion in the distance. A plume of dust rose into the air, punctuated by the occasional glint of steel that got drowned by the distance.

“What’s that?” Ethan asked, a prickle of unease crawling up his spine.

“Looks like trouble, thus why I stopped.”

“I see.”

The two of them exchanged a wary glance. As they approached cautiously, the figures resolved into a group of two men—one of whom appeared to be quite young—and a woman. Three in total, and they were surrounding a hulking creature. It resembled a boar, but the size of a small horse, with thick, matted fur bristling on its back. Razor-sharp tusks protruded from its mouth, dripping with a viscous liquid. The group fought with a desperate ferocity Ethan had yet to see, but they were clearly outmatched. The creature slammed one of them against a nearby tree with a sickening thud, leaving him crumpled and groaning.

Suddenly, Ethan felt the air rippled—there was a presence approaching them. After leveling [Magic Perception] and [Magic Sensitivity], he was pretty damn sure that whoever it was, was using a skill to remain invisible. Then, just as he was about to inform Roland, a figure materialized and approached Ethan and Roland, hands held up.

“Easy there, friend,” Roland said calmly, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword as Ethan gripped the pommel of his own.

The figure appeared to be feminine, and she looked to be in a rough shape. Stumbling toward them, she clutched her arm. “Please,” gasped the woman, her voice strained. “Help us! Our healer is injured and the main damage dealer has sustained injuries.” she trailed off, pointing back at the battleground with his uninjured arm. Then, she squatted down and began tending to her bleeding arm, groaning, huffing, brows scrunched in concentration and beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.

Before Roland could react, Ethan’s eyes gleamed with a thrill. “Looks like we’re on monster duty.” Ethan moved past the injured woman, drawing his sword. Roland sighed, sheathing his own weapon with a reluctant nod. “Seems we are.” He turned back to the injured woman.

“What happened here?” Roland asked, kneeling to get a better look at her wound, then helped her bandage her arm.

“The dungeon incursion a week and more back tore the place apart. The Church of Goddess Nur as well as Sir Thomas has lent a hand to Corinth, and thus the incursion was dealt with. However, some monsters remain, terrorizing the lands. We’ve been getting rid of them along with Sir Thomas’s men. This monstrosity… proved to be a bit much for us. Don’t underestimate it, sirs. It wasn’t like this before the incursion. This… this is just one of the strays, the leftovers that roam the area now “

“Dungeon incursion?” Ethan murmured. He had indeed heard of a dungeon incursion when he’d arrived. To think it’d already been over a week...

Roland finished examining the wound, applying the bandage with practiced ease. “She’ll live. Just needs rest.” He met the woman’s eyes. “Tell me about the rest of your group.”

The woman explained, pointing out the others. There was a burly fighter named Borin with a mangled leg, propped against a tree. He was the one who’d been slammed into a tree by the boar. There was a young archer named Finch desperately trying to keep the creature at bay with shaky aim. Their apparent leader, a woman named Amber wielding a pair of short swords, danced around the creature with a grave expression, slashing at the boar whenever she could—her movements were precise; however, they were slowing. Ethan did notice air acting strange around her. Hmm. A special class? Ethan thought, squinting his eyes. She appeared strangely familiar.

“I’m a [Rogue]. Our [Healer]’s knocked out. We’ve been holding the monster for a while now, waiting for reinforcements. But—”

“What’s your name?” Roland cut her off.

“Melora.”

Roland offered his hand, lifting her to her feet. “Pleased to meet you, Melora.”

Turning to Ethan, Roland continued. “My lord.”

“We’re helping.”

Roland blinked, surprised.

Ah, yeah, Theo would never act like this. Ethan shrugged. Fuck that, I don’t want to act like him unless necessary, anyway.

“Alright,” Roland said, turning to Melora. “We’ll see what we can do. Stay here, rest your arm.”

Melora nodded weakly, her eyes trailing after them as they charged into the fray.

As Ethan neared the battle, the air around his hand got tinged with a blue hue, attaching to the three pouches of water he’d tied around his waist. With a sharp flick of his wrist, a highly condensed ball of water arced through the air, striking the boar right between its beady eyes. The creature roared in fury, momentarily stunned, and shook its head like a dog flinging water off its fur.

After the shaping exercises using fire, Ethan could easily control water now—he could control it better than ever.

Seizing the opportunity, the young archer, Finch, who appeared to be a boy barely out of his teens loosed an arrow that found purchase in the boar’s flank. It squealed and thrashed, tearing the arrow out with a shower of gore. Amber took advantage of the distraction, whirling around the boar with a flurry of wind-infused slashes erupting out of her short swords. The air slammed into the boar, leaving shallow cuts on the creature’s thick hide, forcing it down by adding pressure from above and then from unexpected directions to catch it off-guard. It took a glance for Ethan to note down the air rune into his brain. He’d have a try at it later.

Roland, meanwhile, hadn’t been idle. A bolt of lightning crackled along his sword as the rune he’d seen once appeared around Roland’s arms. Swinging his sword, Roland set the bolt zapping toward the boar and hitting its rear end. The creature lurched forward, its charge momentarily disrupted, then reared back, bellowing, saliva dripping from its tusks.

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“Now!” Roland boomed.

Ethan willed a fireball into existence, using a significant portion of his mana. Ramping up its temperature to as much as possible, Ethan hissed at the temperature against his skin and slammed the hottest fireball he’d ever conjured into the boar’s head, momentarily stunning it. Amber seized the chance. Diving in with a desperate lunge, she cried out as she thrust her swords. One of her swords plunged deep into the boar’s side, finding a vital organ. Then, after a moment’s pause, wind ruptured the creature’s insides.

The creature roared in agony, thrashing wildly. It slammed into the burly fighter with the mangled leg, sending him sprawling. Before the boar could capitalize, Ethan was on it, conjuring a tendril of water that snaked around the boar’s front legs akin to a bullet, momentarily tripping it.

Time seemed to slow down.

Amber gritted her teeth, and used the last of her strength to drive her other sword deep into the beast’s chest. But it wasn’t enough. The boar rose on its hind legs, aiming its razor-sharp tusks at the fallen Borin.

In that split second, Borin balled his fist with a growl and slammed it into the boar’s open maw, growling loudly when its teeth sunk into his arm but not stopping. The impact was brutal. The concentrated mana on the man’s hand exploded within the creature’s mouth, spraying a crimson blood as the boar’s tusks shattered inwards.

It stumbled back, momentarily bewildered, then collapsed with a deafening thud. Amber sank to her knees beside it, utterly spent. Before it could rise again, Roland summoned another bolt of lightning, this one thicker and more potent than the last with a grim look on his face. It arced down, splitting the boar’s skull in two with a sickening crack.

Silence descended upon the clearing, broken only by the ragged gasps of the surviving fighters. Blood seeped into the earth, staining the grass a dark red.

Chest heaving, Ethan lowered his hand.

Melora approached them. “You… you did it,” she said.

Amber pushed herself to her feet, her eyes meeting Ethan’s, then Roland’s. Though her face was streaked with dirt and sweat, she had this ferocious look about her. “Thank you,” she said simply, inclining her head in acknowledgment. Again, Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen her somewhere.

The burly fighter, Borin, tried to sit up. He groaned. Roland rushed to his side and helped him lean against the tree. “Don’t worry, you’ll be alright,” he reassured him, examining the leg with a practiced eye.

Ethan, despite the adrenaline coursing through him, felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He sank to the ground, his back against a nearby rock. He’d never fought alongside others before, and it was… different.

Chaotic, unpredictable, yet strangely exhilarating.

Roland looked at him. “My Lord,” he started, then stopped, seemingly searching for the right words. “You fought well.”

Ethan met his gaze, a wry smile on his own face. Closing his eyes, he focused on recovering his mana.

“Thank you for your help,” the archer kid said with an awkward smile. The man with his injured leg also nodded at them, whereas Melora and Amber tended to their [Healer]. Ethan acknowledged Finch and Borin with a nod then went back to recovering his mana.

The fight wasn’t really a fight. Regardless, he’d learned. I need to fight more often. Had he been alone, he’d have easily died.

I’m happy I got levels, at least. Heh.

Your race, [Human], has leveled up — Lvl 1 -> Lvl 2!

Your class, [Mage], has leveled up — Lvl 1 -> Lvl 2!

Ethan couldn’t describe it entirely, but he felt physically reinvigorated after the level-up. His mana was still recovering, however, but he had felt his “core” expanding. It could hold more mana now. So there’s indeed some kind of a core... That’s good to know. I wonder when Derrick will return, I’m lacking in knowledge. Heavily.

As the adrenaline faded, Ethan caught the eye sight of a carriage in the distance, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. It pulled to a halt right beside the scene of the recent skirmish. The door creaked open, and a man emerged, his face grim. He was dressed in a fine, dark suit, his silver hair neatly combed. Beside him, a woman stepped out, her face obscured by a peculiar mask that resembled a... dog mask. A muzzle.

What the fuck? Ethan stopped himself from staring.

The man rushed towards the group, his eyes widening slightly when they landed on Ethan. He cleared his throat. “We sincerely apologize for our tardiness,” he began, bowing deeply. “We encountered unforeseen delays on our journey.”

He straightened, his gaze flickering between Ethan and Roland. “Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere. “Thank you for aiding them. You have my utmost gratitude.”

The woman in the mask remained silent, but her body tensed slightly upon seeing Ethan. Then, a sound came out of her muzzle. A weird, grinding sound. Grating. As if someone was scratching fingernails on a chalkboard.

The man gave her a stern look and she quietened.

“May we join you on your journey to Corinth?” Amber asked. “Our destination aligns with yours, and it would be safer to travel together, wouldn’t you agree?”

With a nod and a smile, the man gestured towards the carriage. “We have ample space. And I can heal your companions as well.”

With that, they got into the carriage. The masked woman, after a final lingering glance at Ethan, climbed in after them. With a final bow of thanks, the man followed suit.

The carriage lurched forward, leaving behind the scene of the battle. As the dust settled, Ethan and Roland climbed back into their own carriage.

“Who was that man? And why did the woman have a muzzle attached to her face? She’s not a dog.” Ethan asked.

“A bishop of the Church of Goddess Nur. As for the woman, I do not know.”

“Huh, is that so?”

Then, the journey continued, the silence broken only by the rhythmic clopping of hooves and the rumble of the wheels. Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up. He’d gotten information from Jack, so he knew there were nobles around this area as well. Why would prominent nobles be spotted around the area? It was just a dungeon incursion. At most, it would’ve taken Sir Thomas’s attention, not a bishop’s attention.

Arriving at Corinth, their carriage was stopped by a knight—who Ethan assumed to be under Hector. The knight escorted their carriage to the manor grounds of Corinth. The towering gates of Corinth Manor were just ahead—and he’d admit, it was a stark contrast to the quaint wooden fences Ethan was used to in Holden. Here, polished black iron fences snaked around sprawling manicured gardens, bursting with vibrant flowers Ethan had never seen before. Ethan couldn’t help but grin as he took it all in.

With its dirt roads—along minor brick ones—and single branch of the Blacksmith Guild, Holden felt like a sleepy village compared to this. Corinth appeared to be a city, a metropolis, even, by Holden’s standards. Shops lined the cobbled streets, their windows displaying an array of exotic wares. People bustled by, wearing clothes showing their social classes—from wealthy merchants adorned in silks to grimy laborers hauling heavy crates.

This is it. The land of overflowing coffers and eager customers. Every bustling corner, every well-dressed passerby, was a potential customer for his soap. Here, in Corinth, his revolutionary product could truly explode. But first, Hector.

The thought of the man left a bitter taste in Ethan’s mouth. Blackmail wasn’t ideal, but it was something he needed to do. Hector wouldn’t agree otherwise, and even if he did, he’d have other ideas regarding everything. Ethan glanced at the small pouch nestled in his pocket, containing some.... evidence. Hector wouldn’t have a choice. He either got on board, or his carefully constructed world would crumble under the weight of his secret. Hector had gotten some wench pregnant—though, she wasn’t any ordinary woman. Regardless, Hector was hiding her and the fact that he got her pregnant from his father. It would’ve been a shock to Ethan that Hector hadn’t just gotten rid of her and killed the evidence if Ethan didn’t have the information he did. The Hector I remember from Theo’s memories is a total douchbag. He’d have killed her. Heck, the bastard would’ve choked her while raping her. There’s no way his change of heart happened this fast—that is, unless... he’s like me. That’s certainly a possibility. I’m not special. If I got here, it’s entirely possible someone else did too. But that’s unlikely, too; given the information I have-it’s something else entirely... And that possibility is far more believable than anything else. Anyway, something’s happening in Corinth. I have to watch out for myself. I also need allies.

He’d realized that. He needed allies. Quick. He needed people he could trust. Regardless, after thinking on Hector’s matter for some time, his mind brought up a simple conclusion: Hector was hiding something.

Thus, this little evidence would get Hector to agree with his ideas without complaint. No matter the cost. Regardless, I’m going to have to be careful. He’s crazy—and entitled—enough to try to kill me at this meeting. His heart raced, and his skin broke into a nervous sweat. Ethan licked his lips, wiping the perspiration off his forehead. Eh, fuck that. I have Roland. Ethan shook his head. He had nothing to be afraid of.

When the carriage arrived at the estate, a number of maids swarmed over, inviting them into the mansion. Ethan and Roland were greeted and introduced to the Lady of Corinth—a stern, older woman named Sefica. “Hector will speak to you two in a while.”

Thus, after a heavy meal, and a brief meeting with Lady Sefica—with her asking questions, chatting about, and being a sweet company—it was time to wait for Hector to arrive. Where’s his father? Why did Lady Sefica greet us instead of them?

Regardless of everything, Ethan was looking forward to meeting Hector.