The closeness of a human presented Hope with a dilemma. Should he descend from the tree, investigate it, and potentially acquire food, water, and other necessities?

Or was it too risky, something that could cost him his life?

'My pursuers?'

He considered who they were, but he ruled out the Binders from Dreadvale. The smoke was too close. If they had tracked him down, they wouldn't have bothered starting a fire; they would simply capture him.

That hadn't happened, so whoever was near him had a much lower chance of coming to him.

'Maybe he's a wandering merchant.'

That wasn't out of the question. Dreadvale might not have welcomed visitors, but it still allowed travellers and merchants near the borders. Information and goods could be exchanged safely outside the city.

Representatives of any other profession wouldn't be excluded either. In any case, he had to find out if there was any danger so close to him. Without information, he could put himself in even greater trouble. Besides, food and water would give him the energy he needed, which would shorten the journey to Zalindar.

He slid down the tree slowly. His body could make a minimal amount of noise. Muscle relaxation and control were part of his routine, and he would soon find a use for it.

He memorised the direction of the smoke. He moved toward it with even greater caution. His feet, planted on the ground and grass, made virtually no noise. His coordination was perfect, and according to his instructors, his focus and concentration were astonishing.

He moved slowly, not in a hurry, and was ready to flee at the sight of any danger. Hope tried to hear before he saw them, hiding behind the trees. He had to find out how many there were without sticking his head out.

The only sound he could hear was a single breath over the crackling of wood chips thrown into the fire.

He managed to figure that out from more than ten meters away.

'It seems my senses have also developed.'

Satisfied with the fact, he went to check with his eyes. They tell him the same thing, but a bit more. In front of the fire, a thinly dressed but well-protected young man can be seen, only a few years older than Hope. He sat on a log of wood and looked at the hunk of meat skewered on a stick. Lost in thought, he waits for food and doesn't study his surroundings as carefully as Hope did.

And he had a sword.

A silver sword hung from a leather belt around his waist. It was hidden in the light and shadow of the fire at the same time. In Hope's eyes, this weapon sparkled, shone, and even called out.

'I want it.'

The desire was strong. Hope wanted to take it in his hands and look at the owner of the sword again. He wasn't a Binder, and he would say that with almost a 100% guarantee.

Hope, after becoming Eclipsed, felt the fragments more clearly. He could see them rushing towards him. Every Binder he had ever seen in person had a certain patterned diagram of the fragments.

Not easily noticeable, but he could see them by observing.

It was as if he were a Seeer but without the ability to read them accurately. As if he needed to connect with these fragments, to receive them, to understand them.

He had only obtained the prophecy in this form once before, after Shon's death, and unfortunately, it hadn't brought him any information. It had probably only increased the percentage of his fragments, which was also useful.

There had been one instance in the boy's experience when he didn't notice the Binders. The existence of the three twin brothers escaped his senses. They were parts of his hair, and somehow they had evaded his radar.

As for the man, he had no trace of such fragments. He was an ordinary person. Without any powers or abilities. A mortal whom Hope was confident in defeating. Even in the worst and most unthinkable situation, he could still flee.

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The key was getting the sword, and the matter wouldn't have come to this point.

Then he thought about his morality. How right it would be to kill an innocent man, especially when it wouldn't be such an easy task. Attacking him directly was both dangerous and morally questionable.

But Hope still believed that the sword should be his. After all, he was the Chosen One. Every action he took would be for the good of the world, and one theft was a small price to pay.

'Think of it as helping humanity,' he addressed the man with a thought in his heart and outlined the options for action.

He didn't make a decision hastily, but he thought quickly. There were bushes near the tree where he was hiding. A few meters away and a little closer to the man.

He wanted to get to this bush unnoticed. He bent over, placed his hands on the ground, and in one turn, he was right there. The first and easiest stage was completed.

'Now, let's see how good a bluffer I am.'

He rustled the bushes deliberately. Along with the sound, it created a visual effect that also caught the man's attention. He immediately stood up, took his sword in his hand, and straightened his shoulders. He positioned himself in front of the fire as if he were covering a hunted animal.

"Who is it?" he shouted and began to approach with short steps.

"Please don't kill me!" Hope says and comes out scared. Slow, without unnecessary movements that could scare a man.

"What do you want? Why did you come?" he asks, studying the boy from head to toe.

"I came because of the smell. I'm very hungry and cold." At the same time, Hope puts his hand on his stomach while hugging himself with the other for warmth. "Can you give me some?" he calls out in fear and pleading, and for greater effect, he even gets on his knees.

The man continues to study him but doesn't come any closer. Hope's clothes are tattered, stained, and covered in scratches. The boy didn't look particularly threatening. His grey hair is matted with dirt, and he fits the description, like some stray lost in the wilderness. It would be difficult to see him as a potential threat, let alone the world's saviour.

"What is your name?" he asks, not yet lowering his sword.

The boy hadn't expected such a question so soon, but he had an answer ready. "Ashe, sir," he said, his tongue hanging out, his face on the ground, his voice cracking. It's as if he doesn't dare to raise his head. Even he's impressed with his performance.

As for the name, it wouldn't be hard to guess. The chancellor had once called him "ash," after all. He didn't have a real name, or at least he didn't know what it was. No one would recognise him as Hope and Despair wasn't something he was comfortable with. Besides, the word "Ashe" suited his new appearance well enough.

This was a significant moment—the day Hope finally became Ashe, a new identity marking the start of his story.

"Ashe?" the man repeated, drawing a parallel with the boy's appearance. His grip on the sword tightened—an action that the boy couldn't miss without even looking at him.

One wrong movement and Ashe was ready to strike.

After a few seconds of thought, the young man made a decision. He slowly lowered his sword, though he kept his eyes on the boy.

"I can't give you much food. This should be my three-day supply. Still, I have water, and I can share that."

He waited for the boy's reaction. Ashe didn't move on purpose, as though he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard, as if no one had shown him such kindness. The trembling of his body stopped. He slowly stood up and looked at the man with boundless gratitude.

"Thank you, sir. You saved me. Thank you. May the gods bless your way." There was a tremor in his voice. One eye was filled with tears. He had gone too deep into the role. His lessons had never reached such extreme situations; he had only gone through a few stages in diplomacy.

When he told the truth along with the lies, Ashe's actions became much more convincing. This scene was an example of that.

That's why he was taught to lie and win people's hearts. It turns out that people have a fundamental desire to feel important. It isn't necessary for them to see the truth; a well-baked lie is enough to win their hearts.

At the same time, a person needs another, weaker and more defenceless than him. So that in the event of their help, he feels superior and more needed. This is usually hidden in the subconscious, and no one acts like this on purpose.

It is controversial why this man helped Ashe. However, along with lies, the boy also told the truth. Moreover, it wasn't a small amount that helped with his acting.

"First, come and sit by the fire," the man offers, inviting the boy. Regardless, he still keeps his distance, holding his sword in his hand and not taking eyes off him.

"It may not be very cold, but you won't mind the extra heat," the man adds. His voice has softened, but his body remains tense.

"Thank you," Ashe nods and sits by the fire. He stares at the meat, waiting for the young man to notice. When the man catches his eye, Ashe quickly ducks his head, as if embarrassed.

The man laughs. Not mockingly, but in a friendly way, he takes a bottle of water from a large backpack leaning against a log for the boy.

"Here, catch it," he said as he threw it and moved to sit down.

Ashe could have easily caught the bottle, but he didn't leave the role, and with an awkward movement, it slipped out of his hands. Then he took it timidly as if trying to hide the fact that he had made a mistake.

He drank quickly, letting some water spill and nearly choking. This was no longer acting, but it only added to his performance.

The man smiles again and chooses a place to sit just a little closer. There are still a few meters between them. He rests his sword on the wood on the other side of Ashe. Then he looks at the boy and thinks as he looks at the meat.

"There's still... just a few minutes left," he said, staring thoughtfully at the meat; then he suddenly remembered something, snapping out of his thoughts.

"Oh, by the way, I'm Ezio, and I'm going to Dreadvale," he says without any unnecessary emotion as he meets the boy's eyes. "Where are you headed?"