Chapter 1: The Journey North
The administrator’s fingers trembled slightly, while Dalen’s eyes remained emotionless as he watched.
Silence filled the room as neither spoke, a silence that was too tense to be comfortable, yet too relaxed to be truly tense.
A sigh broke the stillness, but it wasn’t from either the administrator or Dalen.
“Uncle Albus, I told you, Dalen isn’t someone you can sway with words like that,” Lucia chided, exhaling deeply.
She tapped the box with her fingers as she continued, “Dalen, please accept this as a gift. You’ve saved my life countless times in the labyrinth; consider it a token of my gratitude.”
“A gift?” Dalen asked, his voice tinged with skepticism. Was it really okay to just hand over a sacred relic as a reward?
“In the order, any relic taken from demons or monsters becomes the property of the knight who retrieves it. I defeated the fallen knight myself, so I have the right to give it to you,” Lucia explained, pushing the box towards him with her pale hand.
Dalen stroked his chin thoughtfully. He vaguely remembered such a rule in the order, though it was rarely mentioned and even less frequently acted upon.
“But are you sure it’s okay to talk about the fallen knight like that?” he asked.
“Uncle Albus practically raised me, so it’s fine. He’s more tight-lipped than anyone I know,” Lucia assured him.
Dalen glanced at Albus, who was still nervously twitching his eyes. When Dalen continued to stare, Albus finally spoke, his voice slow and deliberate, yet unable to hide his tension.
“I apologize. I was thinking of how we handle northerners crossing the Frost Plains and ended up being quite rude to you. Can you forgive me?”
“It’s fine. No harm done,” Dalen replied, scratching his chin.
Albus’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you really okay with just an apology?”
“Would you prefer I cut off your ear as compensation?” Dalen joked.
“No, no, it’s just… I thought Lucia was exaggerating, but it seems she wasn’t. The strength of a hero and the grace of a saint—”
A sharp jab from Lucia’s long, white finger silenced him.
Lucia sighed again and turned to Dalen. “Dalen, the order has another request for you.”
A request from the order was always welcome. They were wealthy clients and often had items he desired.
Dalen tied the pouch of gold on the table to his belt and asked, “What kind of request?”
“We need you to transport the holy sword to the main order,” Lucia said.
The holy sword? Dalen’s hand paused as he tied the pouch.
Lucia’s face was troubled as she continued, “Someone within the order is after the holy sword.”
What the hell?
“A few days ago, a letter arrived from the main order,” Lucia began slowly.
“It instructed that if we succeeded in retrieving the holy sword, we should bring it back safely.”
Dalen nodded. That was standard procedure. Among the many relics the order possessed, the twelve holy swords were the most revered treasures. It was only natural they wanted it returned quickly.
“But upon closer inspection, I found a hidden code meant only for inquisitors,” Lucia said, her expression darkening.
The role of inquisitors was to root out corruption within the order. A code only they could decipher usually indicated internal danger.
“The code mentioned theft, assault, and betrayal. In other words…”
“There’s a traitor within the order,” Dalen concluded, stretching his arms behind his head.
“Yes,” Lucia confirmed, her face heavy with concern. She stood and bowed deeply to Dalen. “Please help us, Dalen.”
Dalen paused mid-stretch, raising an eyebrow.
“I know it’s shameless to ask for more after requesting you to retrieve the holy sword, but I can’t bear its weight alone. Please, help us.”
Lucia’s golden hair swayed precariously as she bowed, reflecting her desperation and perhaps the dire state of the order.
Dalen straightened up and said, “Stand up. It’s uncomfortable seeing a holy knight bow.”
His large hand gently lifted her by the shoulder. Lucia looked up at him, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Tears were cheating. Dalen chuckled softly and shook his head.
He sat back down and looked at Albus. “I’m a mercenary.”
Tap. Tap.
His fingers drummed slowly on the armrest, and Albus watched them with a slightly stiff expression.
“And mercenaries don’t work for free.”
“I’ll write you a recommendation for another sacred tattoo. If you don’t trust me, I can offer a chest of gold as an advance,” Lucia offered, her tone more straightforward now.
Dalen chuckled and stood. “No need for gold. I’ve already received an advance.”
He pulled a chain from the box. The rough chain emitted a faint, ominous purple glow as soon as it touched his hand.
A cursed relic that bound its target to the owner’s will and tainted it with dark magic. The moment it touched Dalen, it recognized him as its master.
“How is it responding so quickly…?” Albus marveled, watching the phenomenon with wide eyes.
Dalen wrapped the chain in cloth and hooked it to his belt. “But I’ll choose the route. There’s somewhere I need to stop before reaching the order.”
The entrance to the order’s rift was in the southwest of the continent. Coincidentally, the city of Revivach, where a mandrake colony was discovered, was also southwest.
If he could deal with the Witch of Ashes while transporting the holy sword, it would be a journey with dual purposes—a perfect two-for-one.
Dalen adjusted the chain on his belt and moved towards the door. Before leaving the room, he turned back.
“We’ll depart in four days. Be ready by then.”
“Understood.”
“Oh, and take this.”
He tossed a silver object in an arc. Lucia instinctively reached out and caught it—a mercenary badge.
“What is this?”
“It’s the badge of the mercenary who betrayed Barret. Take it to the Crow’s Nest and mention my name. They’ll help you find out who else was involved.”
Lucia bit her lip silently. Dalen watched her for a moment, then turned and left the room.
The door closed slowly behind him.
“Thank you,” a soft murmur slipped through the closing door, tickling Dalen’s ear as he walked away.
Four days later, Dalen had disposed of all unnecessary baggage and boarded the northbound carriage with a light load.
Surprisingly, nearly half of his baggage had been chests and pouches filled with gold coins.
The 180 coins he received for the demon’s essence and the 30 coins from the order had swelled to nearly double, thanks to the payment Sienna delivered just before departure.
His backpack, now too heavy for an ordinary man to lift, contained not only gold but also two neatly folded contracts of equal value.
One was the contract for transporting the holy sword for the order, and the other was a contract for escorting the Gallios Trading Company.
‘It’s my first time escorting a caravan as a gold-ranked mercenary.’
Since arriving in Falcion, he hadn’t left the city, so it was a new experience. He had entered the city with the Gallios Trading Company, and now, a month and a half later, he was leaving with them again.
The whirlwind of events that had unfolded and resolved in that time made the passage of time feel almost surreal.
The cold air seeping through the carriage window seemed to narrate the story of those past days.
When he had traveled up this road from the south, winter had just begun. It wasn’t as bitterly cold as it was now, in the heart of winter.
“Aren’t you cold, Dalen?” Lucia asked, her breath visible in the chilly air.
Naturally, the carriage wasn’t heated.
The carriage walls and roof might fend off snow or biting winds, but they were powerless against the deep chill of midwinter.
In fact, it might even be colder inside the carriage.
Unlike outside, where constant movement kept one’s body warm, here, all he could do was sit still, swaying with the carriage’s motion.
Of course, the concept of “cold” was irrelevant to Daelon.
“I don’t really feel the cold.”
“Even in this weather? Are all Northerners like that?”
“Not sure. Can’t speak for everyone.”
Daelon scratched his chin. His resistance to the cold had nothing to do with Northern blood.
“Dragons don’t feel ordinary heat or cold at all. From what you’ve described, it seems the academic theory about your condition being due to dragon blood might be true.”
Those were the words of Felber Valentino, who had visited Daelon in his room at the Elgaia Tower after he returned from the labyrinth.
“I brought some books for you. As a warrior, you should know your body better than anyone.”
With that, Felber had handed him a stack of thick, scholarly tomes.
“He’s quite the interesting fellow.”
Daelon chuckled softly, recalling the weight of the books that made up a significant portion of his luggage, aside from the gold coins. He could still picture Felber’s flustered face when he couldn’t read Daelon’s past from the earth’s memory.
Most people would have been intimidated or, if cunning, tried to exploit it as a weakness. But Felber had instead sought to help him.
“A hero like you shouldn’t be hindered by an old man like me.”
Remembering those words, Daelon couldn’t help but smile.
Lately, he often thought about how many destinies were changing.
There were those like Reberon, Sienna, and Lucia, whom he had intentionally drawn in. But there were also unintended twists, like Felber Valentino, Tommy Valentino, or Penny.
“Volkmar Gallios is one of those people too.”
In truth, Daelon had never even heard of the Gallios Trading Company while playing the game. Likely because their destined future was to be swallowed by the Telia Trading Company.
Telia would bare its fangs at Gallios shortly after the tutorial ended. For a basic character, that was the time to take on various mercenary jobs, leveling up and earning money.
At that point, Volkmar’s fate, competing against Telia in Falcion, was predictable even without witnessing it.
“Either vanished without a trace, becoming a monster, or simply died.”
A fate unchanged through hundreds of playthroughs. How many such destinies had already shifted in the hands of just one person?
Feeling the weight of it all, Daelon shook his head to clear his thoughts.
Knock, knock, knock.
Just then, someone tapped lightly on the window cover. Daelon slowly opened the window.