The village in which I resided is called the Northern Village, Daillon.

located in the far northwest of the Western Land and close to the

Hollowed Kingdom entrance.

The village is like any other, brimming with farms that grew various

vegetables and fruits. The nearby forest was teeming with boars, rabbits,

and other game for hunting purposes. A river descended from the nearby

mountains.

The suburb wasn't heavily populated, with less than a hundred

residences. Most of the inhabitants were poor workers serving a noble

house called Dykstra Gal Band. While the Other chose to live peacefully

with their families and children with whatever income serves them.

Additionally, it is one of the few villages in the Western Land that lacks

defensive power. They assumed the village was not under threat from

bandits or similar dangers.

But what scared me the most was that we were so close to the Hollowed

Kingdom entrance and not far from the cold mountains, specifically the

entrance to the Mountains.

Before the Hollowed Ones made their appearance, the Western Lands

were heavily controlled by the Nords. They waged war against the Perfect Church and the Assayer as well.

However, after their fall, most people migrated to the Republic. Some were taken and became soldiers of the Kingdom of Celestial, of the main

branches of imperial. Others were taken as prisoners, like in Zial, the infamous prison. Some worked in mines, dungeons, and even construction sites like Fire Mountains.

The Western Land eventually became part of the Republic. Although

they haven't officially established a Kingdom here since the recent

takeover, it was mostly unexpected.

Currently, the Western Lands are known for cultivating agriculture,

farming, and wood production. Most importantly, they offer homes and

shelters to lost nations such as the Water Tribe, although half of them

still reside in the Republic lands.

The lands also provide protection against the Night Elves from the

south, with the addition of Bastions and Watcher Towers. However, for

some reason, the Night Elves haven't retaliated. They simply hide in

their forest, waiting to strike at the unwelcome.

I'm not a military expert, but it's safe to assume they are more afraid of

the Hollowed Ones coming from the cold mountains.

Until now, the Onyx Demons have yet to make their move against the

Western Lands. Most of them are either hiding in their cold mountains

or in the Hollowed Kingdom. Some are attacking nearby nations from

the summoned Swirling Abyss. The Republic assumes they are either

hibernating or occupied with something else. They believe there's no

cause for concern since there are military units watching over the

Hollowed Kingdom entrance.

Only a fool would believe such claims. I know all too well that there is

more to this dilemma. If anything, I feel that we are all being pulled into

an upcoming trap planned by the Republic.

Simply put, the Republic has sent people here as a distraction to benefit

the agricultural business and deal with the high rate of population

increase and poverty. It's just a temporary diversion for now.

And I know for a fact that I am not the only one aware of this theory.

My mother is as well, as she plans to leave these lands when the time is

right.

While I was born here, my mother originally came from Republic

city and eventually settled here. I have tried asking my mother why she chose to settle here of all places. But every time I bring

up the topic, she tends to evade it, saying, "When you are a bit older,

you will understand soon."

I have lived in this world for nearly nine years and yet have

encompassed the truth from her, but I eventually gave up and chose not to

press for an answer. Every time I recall the question, I can see the pain

and despair in her eyes, as if the past brought nothing but dreadful

memories of the past.

This is also linked to questions about my father, which only makes her

more miserable.

For that reason, I don't make a fuss and simply overlook it as if it isn't

real. She doesn't seem in a hurry to tell me the full story, nor does she

seem to have the intention, from what I can tell.

However, I have deduced one fact from her attitude: she hates her home.

Whenever the villagers speak highly of the Church or the Republic,

topics that include victories over recent battles against the Night Elves,

she simply nods alongside them. But when we are alone, she reacts with

annoyance or dismissiveness. Like she is holding no trust or respect for

the Church or the entire nation.

Sometimes, I would ask her about topics related to the Church. Every

time the word "Church" comes to mind, she always says; "Stay away

from them and never follow their methods," in secret.

I don't know why my mother holds such a grudge against the Church,

especially since my father was a knight and a member of the Church. All

I can assume that his presumed death is somehow related to the

actions of the Church.

I can't think of a detailed reason or theorize anything. It's better to

simply accept the way things are now. From what I can see, this is the

happiest moment my mother has ever experienced.

However, beneath this façade lies a horrible truth. The torture doesn’t

end here...

----------------------------------------

For today, my mom sent me on an errand. Frozen grape hunt. Since its

winter season, fruits and vegetables tend to dry around this time.

I didn’t mind the request since taking a walk outside the cold breeze

sometimes can be convenient.

Since the old world, I liked the winter season. It brought a sense of

calamity and recreation. So strangely uplifting and melancholy at the

same time, it feels like the moment where hope leads to belief except its

shrouded in despair still. But it's more of a conflicting emotion. Because

it reminded me of the sorrow I was accursed with since the day I was

brought to life.

The water droplets that reminisced those tears I never shed but always

wanted to. The rapturing thunder blurred the sky with the clouds

covering the climate rage. The silent road and neighborhoods resembled

my soul and existence. Lonely and empty. The many bustling voices of

the streets, either barking against one another or abstracted in their

phones and daily lives. My voice and my screams were never even part of

the humming crowd.

I walked those streets alone, never-ending. Always dreaming the same

cognizance.

The same dream. The same nasty, grating voices of the puppets. The

same day, the same life, the same order!

I hated them so much.

But now, I can hardly think of such emotion.

It's snowing now, faintly. Every time I look back at the snow flurry

reminded of the ashes of the old world.

What's left is nothing but images of A burning city, yesterday's news. I

recently played through this campaign and felt the loss. The city in

rubble reminded me of my old stomping grounds. Friends who've

forgotten me or maybe I've forgotten them. Doesn't matter. I realized

everything is the same. My existence had its shelf life, even friendships

and experience. That was once again replaced with yet another shelf.

Another story tells....

“New world.... new life...” I said sorrowfully.

I took a heavy breath and sighed as I continued to look for frozen grabs

Walking around the visage rocky cliffs tends to be difficult from time to

time, especially with inclines. But over the repetition, one grows

accustomed to this rural place.

As I was sliding down, my eyes caught a small space covered with

ragweed and health aster all coated with snow, only a little. Nearby by,

the battalion of frozen dry trees leads further into the deepest part of

the forest. Among them were the frozen grape trees.

Without a second wasted I took out my cloth bag and started to pick up

the tiny grapes.

“......?”

Suddenly, I turned around while observing the environment. Earlier I

had a sense of someone watching me, it turned out to be a squirrel. Yet the

sensation remained. I couldn’t tell whether it was an animal, or

somebody was following me.

I took a few seconds to look in the vicinity, assumed much it’s the same

squirrel. Only, I didn’t hear any squeaking.

I returned back to my task. After which I sensed a presence behind my

back. Supported by the nearby flow of grass. I turned around instantly

only to be hit by an object on my right forehead. Knocking me out

----------------------------------------

The impact of the hit wasn't too strong. I regained consciousness just a

few minutes later, only to be greeted by three kids around my age. They

were collecting the frozen grapes with the cloth bag I had earlier, clearly

stealing them.

"Ach!" I gritted my teeth in pain as I felt pressure against my left

forehead. I held my hand against the wound, which was now covered in

blood.

To my left, I noticed a bloody rock, indicating that it was the object that

had struck me.

"Hah! The awash brainiac is awake!" one of the kids jeered.

"Morning, you bastard," chuckled another one like a brute.

The brute had messy black wavy hair, while the other one had a clean-shaven look. And their leader, whom I already knew from his irritating

looks, was Sayar. He was a condescending boy with a regulation-cut

blonde hairstyle.

I was well acquainted with him because he had been a

bully to me in recent years.

This wasn't the first or the last time I had been a victim of bullying. In

my previous life, I had often been treated as rubbish by classmates and

coworkers. I never fought back, not because I lacked the desire, but

because I couldn't due to my weak physical build.

After enduring consecutive oppressions by ruffians, I became

accustomed to it, treating it almost like a habit. Over time, I learned to

outsmart them. In the end, bullies are just oppressors who prey on the

weak to assert their dominance and, most importantly, to hide their own

weaknesses and insecurities.

"Sorry, Sir Makas!" Sayar said with a feigned apologetic tone. "But we

will be taking the frozen grapes for ourselves."

I remained silent, holding back my frustration as I continued to stare at

Sayar.

"Don't run off to mommy telling her, 'Mama, I got bullied again,

Wahhh'," Sayar continued with ironic acting, while the other two

laughed and collected the grapes.

Even though I was an adult in a child's body, I still felt agitated by his

arrogant attitude. Perhaps I had always felt that way, but I had never

experienced the emotion to break character.

They continued to ridicule me as I tried to tend to my wound with a

piece of cloth I had pulled from my attire.

"What's wrong, awash brainiac? Can't use your thick head to answer

back? Or are you a baby?"

"Are you going to cry, baby?"

"Wahhhhhh," the whole group started to mock again, with one of the

goons imitating a crying baby.

Ironically, I paid little attention to their childish antics, as I was

preoccupied with the pain from my injury.

"Thanks for the bag, awash brainiac. That was a big help! Hehehe,"

Sayar sarcastically remarked as the crew finished filling up the cloth bag

I had earlier.

They walked past me, making their way back up the hill toward the

village.

"Wait..." I called out suddenly after tending to my wound.

"The cat started to talk? Ha," Sayar said mockingly.

"Have you ever heard of the phrase 'Whoever finds the treasure, keeps

the treasure'?" I said quietly, standing back up.

"Huh? What the heck are you saying?"

"We can't assume that you followed me all the way and chose your

moment, or that you had prepared this trap all along. Therefore, that

statement I made earlier won't matter."

"What the hell is he saying?" one of the two goons asked Sayar, growing

agitated.

I remembered that the village was aware of me, or rather scared of me.

They believed that I had made a devil's deal to gain my unusual abilities

to read, understand, and learn at an early age. While they weren't

entirely wrong, it wasn't something I had asked for, but rather an

obligation.

That being said, this fear could be a potential weapon in my favor. Fear

was humanity's greatest weakness. With the plan I already had in mind,

there was a chance I could outmaneuver them.

"The statement I made earlier no longer matters," I said calmly. "What

you did earlier was use your strength to assert your dominance through

conquest."

"Eh! Yeah, so what?" Sayar started to act aggressively, trying to

intimidate me.

At this point, after everything I had been through and maintaining my

sanity for nine years, this little intimidation didn't faze me in the

slightest.

"What are you going to do, you egghead?"

"I'm going to take what's rightfully mine," I spoke with a lifeless tone.

"You and what army?" the two goons stood behind Sayar, preparing for

another confrontation.

I knew I wouldn't win against the three of them. However...

I pulled out a Florence flask from my pocket and threw it on the ground

between us.

"HE'S SUMMONING A DEMON!" one of the goons shouted in fear.

As soon as the flask hit the ground, it shattered, emitting an enormous

white light from the fragmented glass. I quickly closed my eyes and

rushed toward the goons.

"AHHHHHH!!"

"MY EYES!"

"I'M BLIND! I CAN'T HEAR A THING!"

They screamed in agony, unable to see or hear anything. Taking

advantage of their disorientation, I swiftly grabbed the cloth bag, now

filled with frozen grapes, from Sayar's hands and made my way back

into the forest. I took the opportunity to escape and hide until they

recovered their senses.

"What the heck?!"

"I'M ALIVE!! HAHA!"

"You idiots!!! He used magic against us!" Sayar shouted angrily.

"Where did that little rat go!?"

"He must have gone into the woods!" one of the goons suggested.

"AFTER HIM!!"

"Wait, Sayar, we're not allowed to go into the-"

"I SAID LET'S GO!"

Stricken with fear by Sayar's frantic response, the two goons hesitantly

followed him into the forest.

Assuming they would chase after me, I hurriedly made my way into the

nearby forest, taking any chance I could to hide from them.

Walking back up the small hill and returning to the village with the

frozen grapes I had was an option, but the incline would slow me down,

and they would surely catch up to me. So, I decided to run into the

forest.

As for the concoction I had earlier, I had created a stun-like grenade that

I called the "typhlitic potion." It was a mixture of aluminum and an

oxidizer such as potassium nitrate, materials commonly used in special

forces and counter-terrorist operations. When placed under heat and high

pressure, like in a flask, a simple crack would release a blinding light

and a deafening sound temporarily.

Potassium nitrate was often bought by the villagers for use as fertilizer

in their farming. However, for me, as an enthusiast of alchemy, I was

fascinated with the topic both in the past and in the new world.

But In this world, I had the opportunity to fulfill my wish of practicing

alchemy, using knowledge and concepts from both worlds to create

things that were not yet possible, such as the typhlitic potion. As for how

I knew the formula, I simply knew it because I had read extensively on

the subject back then.

The forest was dense with tall, closely-packed balsam blizzard trees,

leaving little space to walk between them. Every path I took seemed to

lead to another tree, with extended pines and branches obstructing the

view ahead. Additionally, the tall fescue grass, almost half my height,

made the run even more challenging.

Finally, the forest was surrounded by large rocky cliffs, further leading me astray. All the while, I ran

across the snow-covered forest floor.

Eventually, I arrived at a small open space, free of trees and bushes,

serving as a checkpoint of sorts.

To my left, a large rock was wedged between two trees. It was big

enough to provide cover, and with the tall grass, it was the perfect hiding

spot.

"HE MUST BE HERE! COME ON!"

"Dammit! They're still after me!"

While I was running through the forest, I must have startled the birds

and animals, hinting at my location. The falling snow likely aided in that

as well.

With that knowledge, I formulated another plan.

I quickly hid behind the rock, completely concealed from their view, as

the goons finally appeared.

"SHIT! WHERE DID HE GO!"

"FIND THAT AWASH BRAT!" Sayar, still fixated on the presumed spell I had mentioned earlier, showed signs of infuriation and trembling.

I kept myself low behind the rock, fearful of being discovered.

Taking a deep breath, I threw a rock ahead of my position, creating a distraction.

The snow dislodged from the tree as the birds chirped away in fear.

"THERE!"

"Let's go!"

As the goons ran toward the feigned movement, I used the opportunity

to move around the rock, avoiding their gaze and changing my path.

However...

".....!"

I tripped over a fallen tree trunk and fell backward. Instead of hitting the

ground, I tumbled into a narrow crack that led deeper into the earth.

As I fell, I turned around, keeping my body as close to the cloth bag as

possible, providing some cover.

The last thing I remember seeing was an underground river before being

knocked out once again.

----------------------------------------

"Ah... my head..."

After some time passed, I regained consciousness. I couldn't tell how

much time had passed, but I knew I had fallen through a small fissure in

the earth and landed in a small river. The water only reached my ankles.

As I stood up, I immediately felt a sting against my body.

"Ah! It's freezing!"

Even though the river was minuscule, the cold wasn't just coming from

the water. It was still winter, and the chill sent shivers down my spine. I

began to tremble from the cold, hugging myself in an attempt to stay

warm.

I moved a bit away from the river, seeking refuge against a nearby wall

as I recollected what had happened.

Looking up from the crack, I realized that I must have fallen quite a

distance. The drop was at least seven meters long. I was surprised to

discover such a hidden crack, concealed between the bushes and rocks,

creating a perfect trap.

The narrow walls surrounding me offered little help. If there were more

crevices or protrusions on the walls, I could have climbed back up

without a second thought. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The

walls were almost completely vertical, with only a few scattered

boulders that provided no means of ascent.

In short, I was trapped in this narrow crack cave.

As I looked up, I could see the night sky. I realized that I must have been

unconscious for a significant amount of time. Prior to this whole event,

it had been the early afternoon.

"Seriously..." I sighed in anguish as I crouched down, trying to think

through the situation.

Stolen novel; please report.

I was faced with two options:

First, I could stay here and call out for help. My mom would be worried

sick by now, and she would likely organize a search party. However, in

my current state, this plan was not feasible.

The fissure I fell into is located in an unknown part of the forest, wellhidden and difficult to find. Moreover, I was freezing, with my wet

shoes soaked in cold water chilling my body. Waiting here for help

wouldn't be effective since, by the time they found me, I could already

be dead.

The second option was to follow the river and see where it led, hoping it

would eventually lead to a way out.

The river flowed through the Fracture Cave, continuing deeper into the

unknown depths of the earth. If my assumption was correct, following

this river could eventually lead me to the nearest pond or lake and back

to the surface.

The forest I was in earlier situated slightly east of the village. The

current flow of the river was moving along the same axis, which meant

that it likely flowed into a small fountain lake that then spilled into a

larger river, eventually reaching the ocean. Although I couldn't be

certain, a small river like this could have a small opening that would

render my efforts pointless.

"First option... doesn't sound bad," I muttered quietly, trying to force a

chuckle as I made a feeble attempt at a joke. Deep down, I had other

intentions besides being saved.

"But if I stay here... My mother... she would..." I sighed once again,

overwhelmed by sorrow and frustration.

My death wish was mere seconds away from being fulfilled, yet I

hesitated, unable to make the final move.

(What a coward I am...)

I couldn't abandon my mother like this. I couldn't make her life even

more difficult. I had to find a way to make up for the torment she had

endured until now...

Besides, there was something ominous about the path along the river.

The cave formations felt unnatural, although I couldn't quite explain

why.

"It's snowing..." I murmured softly, looking up at the falling snowflakes.

I didn't know if this was a sign for me to venture into the cave or merely

a gentle cover as my body decayed slowly in this place.

"Fuck it... let's go..."

And so, my first dungeon raid began...

----------------------------------------

I walked alongside the walls of the river, eventually coming across a

small cave opening that led deeper into the earth, following the path of

the river.

The entrance of the cave was dark, with the eerie sounds of the air

howling inside, reminiscent of a haunting presence lurking within.

The other end of the river wasn't a viable option due to a small

downward fountain that spilled water from different streams. Climbing it

was also out of the question. Thus, my only choice was to embark on the

journey through the cave.

Generally, I am a person who rarely gets Jump-scared or feels anxious

in such ominous and dark theme environments.

But after that one incident, fear became the only emotion I couldn’t

exactly manipulate or merely lost the ability to.

I wasn't exactly panicking, but a sense of unease and anxiety settled

within me as I ventured into the cave.

After a quick, careful glance at the layout of the cave, I gathered my

strength and resolve and stepped inside.

As I walked deeper into the cave, I could feel the cold air pressing

against my skin, causing me to shiver in response. The chilling sound of

water droplets from the fissures above splashed against my head,

intensifying my anxiety. In addition, the echoing of drizzles came from

the depths of the cave. This made this journey all more ghastly sour.

Earlier, the air outside was filled with the howling wind and the blowing

snow. Now, inside this cave, the howling created an eerie presence.

They say the sound of absolute silence is the most dismally psychical.

While the reflection of an abandoned and hunting dwelling is more

physically alarming.

I say, it’s a sign of tranquility. I can fathom the absolute silence...

With the night surrounding me and the absence of a light source,

navigating through the darkened cave was a significant challenge. I had

to move slowly, fearing that I might stumble upon a ledge, while I clung

to the wall, trying to catch a glimpse of anything visible.

The design of the cave was peculiar. Firstly, the entrance and the

pathway seemed unnatural. The tunnels were narrow, just enough for a

single person to pass through, and tall enough for an adult to walk

through. Secondly, the cracks on the walls didn't appear natural to me.

Usually, the walls are smooth due to the flow of molten lava, but now

there were cracks and ledges, giving the tunnel a more asymmetrical

shape.

Lastly, the flow of the river was anything but natural. The stream

changed from a single path into multiple directions that converged at

different turns.

After observing the cave carefully, I concluded that this was a manmade construction rather than a result of natural processes.

I continued onward until I reached a large, open cave chamber. Unlike

earlier, this was a true cave, adorned with stalagmites and stalactites.

Water seeped from the fissures in the roof, forming spiraling columns.

An underground lake collected water from various sources and directed

it into one direction. The walls displayed a more symmetrical design

with ledges and cliffs.

As I looked back at the tunnel I had emerged from, the opening seemed

highly unusual. It was evident that this was man-made, as such a breach

in the path wasn't a natural occurrence.

The atmosphere shifted from the chilling cold breeze to a more sinister

darkness, where no hint of light could penetrate. Only the continuous

sound of dripping water echoed with a sense of impending aggression.

There were two pathways leading from the cave chamber:

One pathway appeared to be a large circular entrance, completely

blocked off by a mass of rocks of different sizes. The blockage seemed

forced, as if an explosion had caused the roof to collapse, resulting in a

cascade of rubble.

The other pathway, to my left, led deeper into the cave. I could see a

faint blue light emanating from that direction, along with the sound of

flowing water. It must be a collection of water.

Since there was no other option available, I decided to proceed along the

latter path.

However, I abruptly stopped in my tracks when I noticed two decayed

skeletal bodies behind one of the cave columns.

I was momentarily startled, as this was the first time I had encountered

human remains outside of a coffin.

My anxiety began to build, not due to the unsettling sight of the

abandoned corpses, but rather due to the unknown dangers that lay

ahead.

After gathering my courage, I leaned closer to the decaying bodies to

examine what might have caused their demise.

A childish thought crossed my mind for a moment, asking myself,

"What if these skeletons were to come to life?"

For someone outside of this world, it might seem like a joke. However,

in this world, necromancy, transmutation, and rebirth were all realities.

Based on my knowledge from the books I had read about magic and the

universe, I concluded that it was safe to continue.

The bones of the skeletons, which would usually be a light yellow color,

were instead a grayish ash color. This suggested that the skeletons had

not been moved or disturbed for at least a hundred years. While it was

possible for them to be resurrected, it would require a necromancer

somewhere in the dungeon to control the undead. Specifically, the

necromancer would need to place versions of their own consciousness

inside other bodies. Since the skeletons were soulless and mindless

beings, they served no purpose other than being tools. Unless the

necromancer has souls to imprint and implant.

Instead of using another soul and placing it in a body other than their

own, as is typically done with ghouls, the necromancer would place their

own consciousness inside the skeleton. This would result in the slow

depletion of their mana, the source of their magic.

Therefore, it was unlikely that this was a trap, as the skeletons had not

been moved in eons. Furthermore, the fact that they did not possess any

weapons or blades made it unlikely that they were summoned for

combat purposes.

Upon further examination of the chamber, I noticed a nearby pickaxe.

If my analysis was correct, this chamber might have been a mining

operation from a hundred years ago. This could also explain the small

hole I had emerged from earlier. However, it didn't account for the pile

of rocks blocking the path. It seemed that those trapped here had starved

to death and eventually decayed away, a fate worse than death.

In addition to the pickaxe, there was an unlit lantern, a tripod campfire,

and empty wooden boxes that were possibly used for food storage.

Strangely, the cave walls in this area appeared to be untouched, without

any man-made cracks, fissures, or signs of a mining facility.

What could this possibly mean? Were they searching for something

more valuable than mere ores, like a treasure?

After careful consideration, I decided to retrace my steps and continue

along the original path toward the open passage, further exploring what

lay ahead. Although I had a feeling that I might face failure and end up

like those decaying corpses soon.

The path leading to the tunnel was supported by wooden planks, serving

as steps leading upward.

I walked cautiously toward the opening and ventured deeper into the

ominous cave.

The walls now had a dreadful appearance, resembling the insides of a

giant sea monster, with an ooze-like substance clinging to the floor. The

cavern felt like an isolated catacomb, enveloped in a sense of utter

solitude. As I continued my journey, the sound of a streaming fountain

grew louder. This was confirmed by the convergence of the river current

into a single path.

Finally, I reached the end of the tunnel, only to be astounded by the

breathtaking and terrifying sight that lay before me.

[https://yourimageshare.com/ib/CTaC6DJM1E.webp]

----------------------------------------

"Here you go, Freia," Margaret said, handing her a mug of coffee.

"Oh...! Thank you, dear," Freia responded, sounding disturbed, as she

accepted the coffee.

"He hasn't come back yet..."

"No..."

Margaret and Fia were close friends. They not only worked together as

village culinarians but also developed a strong bond over the years.

Since Freia arrived in the village, Margaret and her husband warmly

welcomed them as neighbors and friends. Margaret stood by Freia's side

when she experienced the devastating loss of her partner and the birth of

their son.

Although not in the same situation as Freia, Margaret was concerned

that Makas hadn't returned yet. The other children had already come

back, including Jill, Margaret's daughter.

Freia was usually a calm and patient person, but Margaret had never

seen her so tense since the news of her partner's death, which had nearly

broken her. It was not surprising; any mother would worry about her

son's well-being if he had been gone for hours without any way to know

about his condition or whereabouts.

All Margaret could do now was offer comfort to Freia, hoping that her

son would return safely from his errand.

"He is going to be alright. Makas is smart, and I'm sure he will find a

way back," Margaret reassured, placing her hand on Freia's shoulder.

They sat on a wooden bench, anxiously waiting.

Meanwhile, Jill sat beside her mother, clearly worried about Knight as

well.

Jill was shy and often found it difficult to interact with children her age,

who tended to be more assertive compared to her bashful nature.

Communication was a challenge for her, but she gradually gained

more confidence over the years.

She typically avoided interacting with boys due to her reluctance, except

for Makas. Over time, they spent many moments together reading books

or running errands. They rarely spoke, but Jill cherished their time

together, even if it was spent in silence.

Margaret suspected that Jill might have developed a small crush on

Makas, as she would frequently talk about him compared to other kids

when asked.

On one occasion, Freia and Margaret noticed Jill's bashful cheeks as

Makas attempted to explain a topic of interest to her, particularly when it

involved Cryptozoology, the study of mythical creatures and monsters

that exist in this world.

Freia didn't mind this little crush, of course. She was just happy that

Makas had managed to make friends with children his age, even though

his personality often caused other children to hesitate.

"You came back empty-handed, you little shit!"

A furious man's voice echoed through the air, drawing the attention of

nearby villagers.

The outburst was directed at one of the returning children, Sayar, and his

group of troublemakers. The man who shouted was Marcus, Sayar's

father.

Marcus was a bitter, alcoholic man fixated on his former military days.

He was known for his defamatory and abusive behavior towards his son.

Ever since Sayar was born, Marcus had lost his wife and had displaced

his despair and anger onto his son, treating him as a punching bag and

blaming him for all the misfortunes in his life.

Sayar and his friends stood in shame as they faced the wrath of their

enraged father, fearing what he would say or do next.

"Get lost, you two brats!" Marcus bellowed at Sayar's friends, causing

them to back off and fall to the ground in dread.

With great force, Marcus seized Sayar by the arms and dragged him

back to their house.

While the signs of abuse were evident to the entire village, no one dared

to intervene. Marcus was a former soldier known for his combat skills

and extensive knowledge of military defense. If he were expelled from

the village, it would be left without a capable leader to protect them. The

villagers wholeheartedly trusted him to defend against any potential

threats, whether they be bandits or supernatural forces.

“What an abusive asshole," Margaret slipped out unintentionally.

"Margaret!" Fia scolded her with anger.

"Shi- I mean crap." Margaret quickly regretted her blind words and

looked back at Jill to apologize. "Jill, just forget what she- Jill?"

Jill's face was petrified, and she appeared shocked by something ghastly

she had seen.

"Jill! Honey, what's wrong?" Margaret, now feeling more worried, left

her seat on the bench and knelt down, placing her hands on Jill's

shoulders.

Freia noticed Jill's reaction and tried to understand what had caused her

sudden agitation.

Without a second thought, Jill jumped off the wooden bench, leaving her

worried mother behind, and headed straight to none other than Marcus.

"Jill? Come back!" Margaret shouted, filled with anxiety, as she stood

up to chase after Jill. Fia followed after.

"Sayar! Where is he?!" As soon as Jill got close to Sayar and his group,

she shouted at Sayar in demand.

"The fuck?" the baleful father looked back at her annoyed.

"What did you do to him?! Where is Makas!" Jill rushed to confront

Sayar and his goons, knowing full well what crime had hidden behind.

However, her words were cut off as Marcus leaned closer to her, his

anxiety building up. Jill was left speechless. Although Marcus was a

drunk addict, he still gave intimidating looks that sent shivers down

onlookers' spines.

"You got something to say to my son, little whore? Hah?" Marcus

forcibly spoke with a sadistic smile, leaving Jill almost petrified.

As he got closer, Margaret arrived just in time and hugged Jill, pulling

her away from the ferocious former soldier.

"Who the hell are you to call my daughter like that, you vulgar swine!!"

As Margaret called out to Marcus, the commotion was about to escalate

further, and the villagers gathered around to witness the sudden

turbulence.

"You little bitch! I will show you who is the swi-"

"Enough, all of you!!"

Before Marcus could make another move, two male villagers intervened,

trying to calm down the situation.

"This bitch and her little piglet started spouting out for no fucking

reason-"

"Marcus, shut up."

Marcus was silenced by Freia, who had been quiet until now.

"The fuck you cursed mo-"

"I said SHUT UP!" Freia shouted with fury, silencing everyone,

including the drunk former soldier.

Though Freia may have seemed a calm and gentle person, she had the

spirit of a lioness. When faced with danger, she showed no hesitation.

She walked slowly toward Sayar, who was still cowering for some

reason.

"Sayar... where is my son..." Her voice was cold, emotionless, and filled with

vexation and fear.

She didn't display any anger or rage. Regardless, she maintained her

composed demeanor.

"I-I don't know, okay!" Sayar glanced away, sweating as if it were

summer, regardless of the cold season.

"There is your answer! You are-"

"Sayar..." Fia once again cut off Marcus, pressing against the helpless

child. She sighed and explained.

"Look, I will overlook your constant bullying against my son for today.

But please, tell me where my son is. The more you tell us, the better it's

going to be. I know in your heart you have no desire to hurt anyone, but

you must do so because you can't avoid your father's abuse."

Sayar was speechless. He knew very well what was going on in his case.

The whole scene unfolded like a play to the crowd, but this time, it

wasn't an act—it was the truth.

"Please. I don’t want more trouble. But tell, where is my son."

At that request, Freia nearly began to tear up. She was worried sick

about her son.

It was natural, but nobody knew, not even Makas, the full truth behind

the importance of her son.

The whole crowd watched as the dramatic scene played out, filled with a

bombardment of questions about the situation.

Margaret, who had stood back away from Marcus and Fia while holding

Jill, observed the scene unfolding.

At first, she didn't understand the commotion Jill had started earlier. But

after Freia's entrance and confrontation, she connected the dots and

remembered a conversation she had had with Freia two years ago about

Makas being bullied by none other than Sayar.

What confounded Margaret even more was Freia's attitude. How she

remained so calm yet carried an undercurrent of true agitation.

"I am not going to ask again, Sayar, where is my son..." Freia's tone

became harsher than before, the sheer anger filling her veins reaching its

peak.

Freia was indeed a kind woman, but she could be as deadly as a

ferocious lion when pushed to her limits. This was something she

inherited from her former husband.

"Like I said, I didn't do anything, I promise!" Sayar shouted back, his

composure slipping.

"I never said what you did to him. I asked where my son was. But I

already have the answer before." Freia said quietly, outsmarting the kid by

making him confess indirectly.

Sayar's face now was filled with dread and anxiety, shaking like he had

been struck by a lightning bolt.

"We don't exactly like liars, Sayar," Freia said apathetically as she knelt

down. "And we most certainly don't like when someone hurts our

children for no apparent reason."

"HE IS A FREAK; HE USES MAGIC AND-" Marcus broke in but was

quickly interrupted by Freia's cold poise."I never asked you, Marcus!" Freia cut him off, her tone slightly more

vicious. "I will ask one more time, Sayar, where is my son?"

This time, Freia's voice changed into a more commanding tone as

Sayar's lies began to surface. Her questions were more like an order.

The whole village, including his father, stared at the liar with distrust

and anticipation.

"Or the whole village will make sure you receive a proper punishment,

worse than what your father would give you."

With nowhere left to run or hide, Sayar was in an unavoidable state of

apprehension. He kneeled down and confessed everything, from the

moment they first encountered Makas until his sudden disappearance.

"HE IS A MAGE!!!"

"I have always known that kid was a magician."

The surrounding villagers ignored the topic of the missing child and

started bad-mouthing him. Just then;

"You morons, have you not heard of alchemy?!" Margaret exclaimed,

grabbing the attention of the crowd. "If anything, that boy is a genius; he

found a way to defend himself from - Freia?!"

As Margaret defended the condemned child, Freia stood back up and left

the scene, picking up the nearest lantern and started heading towards the

the direction of the forest.

"Freia! Hold on! What are you-" Margaret called out in confusion.

"I am going to find my son and bring him back!" Freia declared,

determined to search for her missing son.

However, she was stopped by Winfred Weste, Margaret's husband, and

Jill's father. As he halted Freia’s shoulders. Freia pulled away in reprisal,

her distress, quavering, and aggravation became evident, and tears

welled up in her eyes.

She didn’t cry just because of the danger that was about to befall on

Makas only. but because she felt she had failed as a mother. She had let

her child go into the woods in such a vulnerable state. Freia had known

for a while that Makas was being bullied by Sayar for a couple of years

now. Makas tried to impress his father by showing dominance and

strength, but it was all in vain. Sayar's motivation to become a soldier

like his father before him had turned to dust, and his father always

looked down on him.

Freia had brushed it off, believing her son's words, "It's no big deal,

Mom. Don't worry about it." It was a mistake she could never forgive

herself for.

The thought of losing her son, her only reason for living, the last

connection to her late husband, filled her with grief. Makas was her

happiness, and she had promised herself that she would do everything to

protect him, even if it meant risking her own life. She didn't care about

her own fate or any gods; all she cared about was her son and his safety.

"I know you're scared, Freia, but you can't just go out like this, blatantly!

You need to calm down and-"

"I don't need you to calm me down, Winfred!" Freia interrupted, still filled with outrage. "I NEED TO GO FIND MY SON NOW!!"

"Freia, please calm down!" Margaret finally chimed in, with Jill

standing behind her. "I know you're scared, and nobody can relate to

such emotions better than you. But if you go out there blindly looking

for your son, chances are you'll also get into trouble."

Margaret extended her hands, placing them gently on Freia's shoulder.

Her words were soft, and kind, yet sharp, aiming to offer restraint over

Freia's impulsive actions.

"If that happens, think about your son. He won't forgive himself either."

"But if he doesn't come back..." Freia's tone now was more reserved, yet

the grief remained evident as she sobbed, tears continuing to stream

down her face.

"He will come back, because if I know one thing about your child, he is

much smarter than those scholars at the Inexmine Academy," Margaret

said, trying to lift Freia's spirits.

"We're all worried, Freia," Winfred added, placing his hand on her back

to offer comfort, just as Margaret had done. "That's why I will gather my

coworkers and form a search party to find your son."

Freia's heart was still in disarray, but she felt a sense of relief that

someone was willing to help find her son, even though the villagers

despised him.

"For now, stay with Margaret until we come back, okay?"

Winfred pleaded with desperation in his eyes, begging Freia not to put

her life in jeopardy.

Reluctantly, Freia accepted, surrendering her will to Winfred and

entrusting her son's life in his hands. She handed him back the lantern

slowly, still overwhelmed with sorrow.

"Thank you, Freia," Winfred smiled. "Alright, Garry, bring out the boys.

We're going on a search party. Gather lanterns, robes, torches, anything

that can help us..."

As Winfred prepared to lead the search, Margaret placed her hands onFreia's back, comforting her and trying to quell her anxiety.

Freia continued to cry, though not as intensely as before. She wouldn't

stop until she received any news about her son, whose whereabouts were

shrouded in mystery.

Meanwhile....

“You caused a lot of trouble for me little shite.” Marcus was talking with

his son in a sinister tone. His son meanwhile, was grappling in dismay,

aware of what his father is going to do, of what kind of torture he would

donate. “I am going to skin you alive with a heated Iron until you learn

to-”

“Yap its Marcus......”

Once again, silenced by Freia. Marcus was enraged as he turned his face back

to the Freia.

“You are still talking you wh-”

“It's not your son’s fault. It's yours”

What remains of the villagers are staggered by yet another ridicule. At this

the point, Marcus has reached his limit.

“YOU STINKY LITTLE WHORE!!”

“The fact you raised your son to become a toxic condescending brat

much like you are. To make such behaviors that no child wanted to

make is all your fault.”

“MIND YOUR BUSSI-”

“I will when you stop hurt those who are around you!”

Marcus kept grunting like an angry bandit. His animadversion desire just

reached the mountain peaks to hit Freia. But She took control of the

situation with the villagers for once behind her back. Much like a village

chieftain with his people behind his back.

In truth, nobody liked Marcus, and everyone was aware. Aside from

being the village veteran. They feared him the most because he was a

member of Assayer church. Which over the years since its formation,

has grown drastically more politically vindictive than a religious

position. The people of the republic began to fear this so-called persevering order.

His position as a former soldier ties connection to the Noble House

Dykstra Gal Band is what keeps this village alive.

Alas, Freia didn’t stir for she was once a member of this order. Thus, has

the most experienced knowledge and guts in how to deal with such

people.

“Marcus” Fia called out with a grievous tone.” If I see my son hurt an inch

of any limb or skin. I will make sure you specifically don’t receive any

food ration for the next season.”

The sinister face he had once suddenly disappeared, became a dastard

filled with terror and despair. He forgets that Freia had major control of

the food rationale around the village since she was master at cooking,

alongside Margaret. Who was standing behind her until now, backing her

friend in her time of need.

With nowhere to go and nothing to do, he simply gave up while giving

an irritating shameful look of disgust and anguish.

“Let's go brat!”

He called out Sayar who once again rebound to silence after the

confession, followed his father in agitation of what might he do next.

“No!” Freia broke in and pulled Sayar.

“HUH! The fuck now?!”

“You two.” Freia looked back at Sayar goons. “I take it your folks are

okay keeping Sayar for the night?”

They both nodded in dread.

“Take him with you. Keep him away from his father.”

The villagers paused and were stunned by Freia’s Boldness and request.

Looking all cold and strict.

“YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE MY SON AWAY YOU BI-”

“You don’t even care about your son Marcus.” Freia spoke calmly. “So

why are you concerned about where he goes?”

“Freia!” Margaret spoke out fearfully. “You can't meddle in other

families' matter! Or you will-”

“What? The church will come and take me away?” Freia spoke back

with a temper. Knowing well the church won't come after. “I don’t care

what they will do but I will not let you harm this child any more than

you did already.”

Margaret and the crowd looked back at Freia in Silence. Some called her

foolish, while others brave. To go far stand against the so called “Hero

of the village.”

But to Margaret. She was like a role model. A hero everyone wants.

If there is one thing anyone can grasp from Frei’s motivation and desire

is to see a world where children can smile and play happily. And seeing

such smiles robbed away by the sense of injustice or the darkness that

tolled over the war from centuries of war.

Marcus simply grunted out of anger. For a moment, he felt he was

intense to hit Freia for her resistance.

“You think you are so tough aren't you bitch? All the villagers back you

up! And that special child of yours who is just a freak!”

“Trust me, Marcus,” Freia spoke back with a strident tone. “I can be way

worse.”

But her resilience, and that Sturn looks on her face. He feared her.

“Whatever... “Marcus sighed and left the play away.

While Freia, still cowering between the mixture of emotions of anger and grief, she

didn’t abhor the child, instead, she sympathized for him, for him to grow

with such a devious drunk.

“It's going to be okay Freia....” Margaret said calmy yet grieving can be

heard within these lines as she placed her hand on her back.

“Yeah......” Freia said hesitantly.

She quickly turned around, knelt down, and hugged Jill.

“Thank you, Jill.” She said scantly cheerfully. She understood Jill from

the moment Sayar came back to the village. She knew that Jill was

always trying to chase Makas whatever he went as She was concerned

for him.

“How did you know Jill? Did you see what happened?” Margaret asked

as she knelt down as well.

“I..... I heard shouts coming from...... Makas direction.... It was Sayar.

When I checked, there was one one......” Jill said shyly, she wasn’t

talkative a lot.

“Chasing after Makas, aren't you? Heh” Margaret chuckled.

“I am! I am not!” She said aggressively while blushing.

Besides the ominous suspicious she had earlier. Freia knew that Jill was

afraid to tell since the bullies could have gone after her as a potential

next target. But courage took the better of her as she made the first

move.

Alas, Freia was thankful for Jill being part of Makas life. As a friend and

as a Saviour.

She could do nothing now but just wait until her son returns from whatever

hell was at.