“If you insult my people again, next time you won’t be so lucky,” Redwing stated, coldly, rising to her feet beside their dinner. She had always been protective of her race, which was understandable given the dwindling numbers of the soarins. This ancient winged race, once numbering in the hundreds of millions and dominating the skies, had now dwindled to only a few tens of thousands scattered across Creation.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Geez, why are you so sensitive?” Blackclaw responded, sighing in surrender. “You know I’m just messing with you, right?” he continued, reaching into his pouch of jerky and starting to eat. As he chewed his meat, he mumbled quietly, “Ugh, I really hate dealing with women. They can be so emotional. I was just teasing her, why is she so serious?”

Redwing gracefully pulled her dagger from the mossback and, with one swift motion, pointed it again at her companion. “If you continue with that foul mouth of yours, you won’t be eating dinner tonight,” she warned before turning to start her work on the enormous boar.

“Hey, I’m the one that caught that thing!” Blackclaw exclaimed, scowling at the soarin.

“Yes, you caught it, but can you harvest the valuable parts without damaging it?” Redwing asked, glancing at her companion and raising her brow in challenge. When the man just grumbled without meeting her eyes, she continued, “More importantly, can you cook this thing?” she asked further. When he didn’t answer again, she snorted, shook her head, and continued, “We all know I’m the only one qualified to prepare this; otherwise, this will end up uncooked, and you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

“Geez, I understand. I’ll be quiet now,” Blackclaw responded, leaning on a small rock and relaxing while he continued to eat his jerky.

Seeing this, Redwing smirked in satisfaction as she returned to her work. First, she carefully harvested the vegetation growing on the back of the mossback. This part was the most valuable and was greatly valued by alchemists and apothecaries. Even though this was still a juvenile beast and wouldn’t be worth a fortune, it was still enough to risk their lives, earning them a generous payday for a couple of days’ work. Not to mention the creature’s thick hide, its tusks, bones, and meat—well, practically every part of its body. Every part of an eldron was actual money since people had many uses for them, from weapons to food, and this was no ordinary eldron, but something rare that could only be found in prana-rich environments such as the deeper parts of the Wildwood Forest.

As an extremely experienced gatherer and butcher, Redwing swiftly sliced and harvested all the parts of the mossback before putting them into a specialized storage bag on her waist, made just for this specific purpose, to preserve precious materials. This bag had cost her a fortune. It wasn’t like those ordinary bags you could just buy in stores; she specifically commissioned it to carry more materials and preserve them for a longer period, but it was all worth it. Now, she could store this enormous mossback easily without any problem.

After storing all the materials she harvested, Redwing nonchalantly strolled back to the fire, carrying a few pieces of meat she would cook for their dinner. Without warning, she suddenly threw her dagger to her left, piercing a tree. “Come out, now! The next one will be aimed at your head,” she warned, waving her hands as the dagger flew back to her.

“I’m glad to see you too, Red,” Swiftstride greeted, appearing behind the tree that was just hit. Sauntering confidently, she smiled as she glanced toward Blackclaw, “Hey, Black, why aren’t you giving me a warm welcome? My heart aches that you’re ignoring me.”

“Shut up, b*tch!” he responded, snorting as he continued to eat his jerky. “There’s only one reason why you’re here, and that's because there’s a problem you need fixing.”

“Spot on, you brute! As always, you’re not as dumb as you look,” Swiftstride quipped, chuckling as she walked closer. “It seems our good friend Grimscar passed away three days ago, along with our entire branch in Ironspire. You know what this means, right?” she asked, and suddenly their expression grew serious. “War.”

“Finally, someone had killed that sicko. Otherwise, I would’ve been the one to do it,” Redwing muttered as she started walking again towards the fire. “Why don’t you join us, Swift? We just killed a mossback. It seems we have plenty of things to celebrate tonight,” she said, turning to glance at her companion. “It appears I only have to kill one more person now.”

“Hey!” Blackclaw growled as he sat up, still munching on his jerky. “What problem… do you… have with me?” When he saw her raise her brow, he sighed in resignation. “Whatever. Tsk, it seems our vacation is practically over.”

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

‘Where am I?’

Elysian groaned, slowly opening his eyes. The first thing he saw was Bran’s huge face looking down at him, tears welling in his eyes.

‘It seems I’m back. This isn’t another dream, right? A nightmare?’

As the young noble’s vision slowly became clearer, he tried to recall what had happened. His mind was still hazy, and he was working hard to gather his thoughts.

“Master, you’re finally awake!” Bran exclaimed, relief in his voice as his spittle flew all over the noble’s face. “I was so worried…”

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‘What the hell!’

“Hey, stop it, you big oaf!” Elysian shouted, shielding his eyes from the saliva that was flying. It seemed that was all it took to wake him up and snap his brain back to normal. “Get away from me! What the hell are you doing?! Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’m so sorry, master,” Bran panicked, attempting to wipe the spittle from the younger boy. “I didn’t mean to. Let me help you…”

‘Sh*t!’

“Hey, stop it! You’re just making it worse,” Elysian screamed, pushing away the servant. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape as the older boy’s strong arm just pulled him back in panic while the spittle continued to rain down on the poor noble. “Ugh, I’m still in a nightmare!”

“What’s happening?!” Osric exclaimed, hurriedly entering the room when he heard the loud commotion coming from inside. What welcomed him was a comedic and chaotic mess that made his mouth drop. He suddenly started laughing at the scene he saw; he just couldn’t help himself.

“Hey, you idiot! Why the hell are you laughing?!” Elysian demanded, scowling at the other boy. “Help me, quick!”

Instead of obeying their master’s command, Oscric just continued laughing until he was kneeling on the floor. This continued for a while until the young noble just stopped resisting, allowing the servant to do as he pleased until he calmed down.

Sighing, Elysian glanced at Bran. “Are you done?” he asked, raising a brow. The older boy shrank in embarrassment and stepped back.

“I’m sorry, master. I was just too happy,” Bran apologized, staring at the floor.

Glancing at the approaching boy, the noble scowled. “You,” he exaggeratingly pointed at Osric. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Actually, yes,” the soldier retorted, smirking at the noble as he stopped beside Bran and patted him on the back. “It was quite fun. I hadn’t laughed this much in a while,” he remarked, smiling genuinely at the noble. “I’m glad to see that you’re fine now, master,” he added, bowing at him respectfully. The older boy glanced at Osric for a moment before he hurriedly followed suit, bowing reverently to their master.

‘Well, would you look at that! It seems the kid has adjusted quite well to the dynamics of this new relationship. Good, good. His constantly polite and stiff manner was too tiring.’

Elysian sighed. Instead of a frown, a small and gentle smile spread across his lips. “How long was I out this time?”

“Five days,” Osric replied, looking serious while reluctantly considering asking some questions of his own. “Master, I don’t know if it’s proper for me, but… what really happened?”

The room suddenly grew quiet. Even Bran fell silent, looking at the young noble and listening attentively.

‘What do I even say? That a cursed knife took over my body and tortured me in her realm?

Did that really happen? Now that I’m back in the real world, all those things that happened to me seem so surreal—a nightmare.

Yeah, that’s the most appropriate way to describe it—a nightmare.’

Glancing toward his two companions, Elysian met their expectant eyes. “The honest truth is that I don’t really know what happened,” he answered, sighing from the memory of torture. “After the incident with Grimscar was taken care of, I lost consciousness. It seemed to be related to the knife I won from the old man. Hmm… I don’t know, but the knife seemed to be cursed or possessed by some spirit.”

“S-Spirit?” Bran stammered, his eyes widening in dread upon hearing the word. “Are you talking about g-ghost?”

‘Ah, I forgot that this lumbering giant is a scaredy cat.’

“Yeah, big fella,” Elysian responded seriously, pointing behind his friend. “Like the one behind you.”

“Ah!” the servant screamed in panic, pushing Osric in front and hiding behind him. “Where? Where is it?”

“Hey, stop it, big fella,” the soldier quickly said, trying to pull himself away from the firm grip of the huge servant to no avail. “Stop! The Master is just teasing you.”

Bran didn’t listen as he kept looking around for any specter that might suddenly show itself. That was until the young noble suddenly started laughing behind them, enjoying the spectacle that was unfolding.

Turning around, Bran scowled and pointed his finger at the younger boy. “Hey, why did you do that?! You know it’s not good to scare someone.”

Osric just stepped back, shaking his head while massaging his arm that had been forcefully dragged moments ago. As he did so, he silently observed the interaction between his two companions. Slowly, a smile started to form on his lips. He couldn’t explain the warmth he felt in his heart. Even though he had just recently met these two people, he felt a closer connection with them—a form of camaraderie he hadn’t expected to find in the darkest moment of his life.

“And it’s not good to spit on someone,” Elysian countered, snorting at the servant, whose face fell in disbelief at the accusation.

“Hey, I did not spit on you, Master, and I already apologized,” Bran argued back, gritting his teeth in frustration as the young boy just grinned at his response.

“By the way, did you see my knife?” Elysian suddenly inquired, turning around and looking for his weapon.

“The one you just talked about? The cursed one?” Osric asked, walking closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving the younger boy.

“Hey, stop it!” Bran exclaimed, growing more irritated at the words ‘curse’ and ‘ghost. “The knife wasn’t cursed. Master was just messing with me!”

“I never said the weapon wasn’t cursed or possessed. I was just teasing you in regard to the ghost at your back,” Elysian corrected, raising a brow at the servant. When he saw the older boy refuse to believe him this time, he continued, “This time I’m telling the truth.”

“Then, was the knife really cursed?” Osric asked, his voice growing serious as he closely studied the noble’s expression.

‘Technically, it isn’t cursed since a cursed weapon means that something is put into the weapon to create a negative effect on it. In BloodShade’s case, it was like the knife was reforged, creating something new—a living weapon.

Well, I’m not really an expert in this matter. That’s how I see it if the memory I saw from BloodShade is true.’

“Well, how do I explain this? Hmm…” Elysian muttered, pondering for a moment about the response he would give. “It’s similar but different. There is an entity residing in the weapon… Well, not really residing; she’s more the weapon herself,” he stated. When he saw his two companions looking at him confused, he sighed and said, “Let’s just say it’s possess for now. Hopefully, later, you’ll be able to understand it more. Ah, before I forget. Don’t tell anyone what I told you just know. This information could be dangerous. And if someone asks, just tell them you don’t know.”

Both his companions looked at each other, concern on their faces, before nodding at the order.

“Before I forget, Master, the old man wanted me to give you this,” Osric said, handing him a letter and a small leather pouch.