Blood flew high like a fountain as the bowman's head was sliced off from his neck. Zethir flicked his sword, clicking his tongue as blood hugged the blade. Looking at the bowman's uniform, he knelt down, wiping his sword clean with the dark-blue cloth.

“There's only one?” From behind, Marco and Augustin approached. “Such a strong arrow enhancement would've required several people to accomplish. Unless the one doing it is above the elite rank.”

“It doesn't matter,” Zethir said, reaching for the bowman's head. Then, looping a thin rope through its esophagus and mouth, he tied the head to his waist. “The mission will continue.”

Augustin grimaced, looking at the bowman's head. “Is that… necessary?”

Zethir ignored him, turning to look at Marco. “What do you know about nobles?”

Marco glanced at the headless corpse. “The nobles and the royalty around the world pride themselves for their unique training systems. As for our kingdom Targia, the nobles are known for their archery while the royals are known for their swordsmanship… However, this is my first time seeing a bowman who can act like a warrior and a mage.”

The world focused on three power systems. Warriors, Spell Casters, and Rangers. Warriors excel in full body enhancements, Spell Casters excel in energy control, while Rangers dabble in both crafts.

But, there was a saying; rangers can never be as good as warriors in body enhancements, and they can never be as good as spell casters in energy control. However, when rangers mix both crafts, they can surpass both classes, albeit briefly.

“His body is stronger than mine, and his control is better than you,” Zethir pointed at Marco. “But he lacks a warrior's intuition, as well as a mage's awareness.”

“That's relieving,” Marco sighed. “If he had both, then he'll be the perfect human… but, he wasn't an elite.”

“I want to know why, too.”

When Zethir fought the bowman from earlier, the bowman's eyes didn't glow. While elites can control the intensity of their glowing eyes, it’s impossible to get rid of it. As long as an elite uses energy, their eyes will start to glow.

“Do you know of any treasures?” Zethir kicked the corpse over, making it face the sky. Then, after Augustin looted the body until it was naked, Marco shook his head.

“He has no treasures with him.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

On the ground, the bowman's uniform was piled up. Zethir clicked his tongue, swinging his sword and cutting the body in half.

“What…” Marco's brows furrowed, and Augustin paled.

The bowman's guts spilled to the ground, followed by a river of blood. Zethir knelt over the corpse's belly, plunging his hand into the bowman's abdomen. After a while, he took out his blood covered hand, holding a deformed sphere.

“...the energy core, what do you need it for?” Marco almost scowled.

“Do you see anything special in this?” Zethir handed the bowman's energy core to Marco. Marco hesitated, before sighing.

Taking the energy core, he circulated his energy and scanned its structure.

“...while it's my first time seeing an energy core, it doesn't seem strange. It's just a bundle of energy… It was a bundle of energy.”

Zethir took back the energy core. After a while, he turned around, walking to where he last saw Fernando.

“Let's go. The mission awaits us,” he said, secretly throwing the energy core into his mouth and swallowing it.

“...alright,” Marco followed behind him. Seeing this, Augustin swallowed the bile in his throat, following after the two with a spinning head.

On the way, the three of them moved slowly, looking out for any enemies. However, when they returned to where Fernando was, they only saw an empty clearing.

“Did they set off before us?” Marco frowned, already in a bad mood. Without waiting for Zethir to respond, he spread out a thin layer of arcane energy in the clearing, his eyes glowing dimly.

“...” Marco blinked, his eyes squinting in confusion.

Zethir looked at him. “What did you find?”

“Fernando and Lance's aura lingered here for a long time. However, it suddenly vanished, as if they teleported. I can't find a trace of their aura moving in any other way,” he mumbled, looking at Augustin.

“What?” Augustin stumbled back.

Zethir looked at the two. “Did they—”

“They didn't teleport,” Marco cut him off. “If they did, then their auras would be chaotic and all over the place. Instead, their aura in this place is calm. They stayed here as if waiting for us… and then nothing,” he sighed, shaking his head and sitting down on the ground.

“I'm sorry, mister Zethir,” Marco looked at Zethir, who was about to speak up. “But if you still plan on continuing the mission, then please, count me out. I am tired…”

Zethir paused, his hand raising toward the hilt of his sword. But then he stopped, nodding silently at Marco. Turning around, he said, “Augustin, let's go.”

Augustin looked at Zethir's back, and then at Marco. Marco smiled, shaking his head. “Go, you're his companion, right?”

“...right. Take care, Marco,” Augustin rushed after Zethir, waving his hand at Marco.

As the two of them disappeared in the sparse trees, Marco couldn't help but bring his hands to his face. Groaning, he took out a pocket book and opened it.

Then, a water bottle appeared on top of the pages. After a long while of having a dry throat, he wetted his tongue with water and gulped everything else.

“Ha… What a sham,” he tutted. “Here I thought I'd make it big today.”

Truth be told, when his mercenary group died for nothing, he already wanted to quit. He wanted to give them a burial, and he wanted to inform the loved ones they left behind.

“Shit,” he chuckled, looking at the sky. By now, the sky was going dark.

“Was it wrong to be ambitious, friends?” He smiled, closing his eyes.

The answer was, it wasn't. At least, that's what his comrades would say.

“Sorry, I couldn't finish telling you the story about the god of money… heh, you would've loved it.”

{=|=}{=|=}{=|=}

“Hey, was it really okay to leave him like that?” Augustin whispered behind Zethir, nearly stumblinf over a rock in the dark.

Zethir remained silent, his eyes glowing red to see clearly.

“... Marco looked sad, you know?” Augustin continued. “Maybe we should cancel the mission. That Fernando guy is—”

“Shut up,” Zethir's voice echoed in the night, silencing the noisy crickets around them and the bird behind him.

“If you want to quit, then quit. As for me…”

He gripped the hilt of his sword.

“I'll keep going. Hell is all around us, and heaven exists only in fantasy. It's no use getting caught up in useless emotions.”

Zethir marched forward, his steps heavy and rigid. Behind, Augustin halted, his lips forming a flat line. Parting his lips, words pooled on his mouth like saliva.

“...”

But in the end, he kept silent, following after the swordsman who wanted to walk through hell.