The next day, as Amukelo woke up, the light of dawn filtered softly through his inn's shutters. His body still ached with the remnants of the battle against the priest. Each movement reminded him of his injuries, but he couldn't let that slow him down. There was a journey ahead, and he was determined to push through it.
When he descended to the main room, he found the girls, Eliss, and even Holag waiting for him. They were all gathered, ready for the long journey to Norton. It was clear that the girls, though visibly tired and emotionally drained, had found a glimmer of hope in their eyes. Amukelo gave them a nod of acknowledgment.
Holag approached him, scratching his head awkwardly. "I guess this is goodbye," Holag muttered, his usual bravado replaced with a more somber tone.
Amukelo smirked slightly and patted him on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Holag. And remember, no more challenging strangers," he teased.
Holag chuckled. "Yeah... no more of that," he replied, smiling briefly before stepping back to let the group go on their way. "Thanks for everything."
With that, Amukelo mounted his horse but didn't climb into the saddle. Instead, he led the group by foot, dragging his horse's reins as they began their slow and steady march out of the settlement. The girls were quiet, still shaken from their experiences, but they walked with a determined sense of purpose, eager to leave the horrors of the place behind them.
As they passed through the settlement gates, the people who had witnessed Amukelo's confrontation with the priest emerged from their homes. They whispered among themselves, some offering quiet thanks, others simply watching in awe. His thoughts were already drifting toward Norton... toward Neclord. But every time that burning desire for revenge flickered inside him, he had to force himself to calm down.
The first few days of the journey were painstakingly slow. Amukelo, who was used to pushing himself to the limit, found the slow pace agonizing. His horse followed patiently behind him, but every time Amukelo looked at the saddle, the temptation to climb on and charge ahead toward Norton gnawed at him.
Eliss remained in the rear, ensuring that nothing could approach them from behind. She stayed quiet most of the time, but her watchful presence gave the girls a sense of security. Amukelo noticed her from time to time, her expression focused and alert, but she never said much. The group moved through forests, crossed rivers, and walked past open plains, with Amukelo keeping his senses sharp for any signs of danger.
Despite his injuries, Amukelo took every opportunity to train during their journey. Eliss had suggested they split night watch shifts evenly, but Amukelo insisted on taking the longer shifts. "I won't be able to sleep anyway," he said, brushing off her concerns. In truth, he wasn't entirely lying. His mind was restless, approaching confrontation with Neclord made sleep even harder.
Whenever Amukelo took the first shift, he would use the time to train. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored the pain, determined to grow stronger. He practiced silently, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. He had learned how to fight while always keeping his guard up.
Eliss would often wake up on her own during these nights, finding Amukelo still training. She would approach quietly, offering to take over the watch, but sometimes Amukelo wouldn't even notice her until she spoke. "You need to rest," she would remind him, but he would only shake his head.
"I'm fine," he'd respond.
Eventually, Eliss began to mimic Amukelo's habits during her own watch shifts. Inspired by his dedication, she started working on expanding her mana reserves. It was a slow and tedious process, one that didn't offer immediate results, but she could feel herself growing stronger bit by bit.
Amukelo noticed her progress but didn't say much. He respected her efforts and saw in her determination that mirrored his own. As the days passed, they settled into a routine—traveling by day, training or resting by night. Despite the slow pace, the days began to blur together, and Amukelo could feel his body gradually healing. Eliss's occasional healing spells helped too.
Sometimes, when the girls would gather around the campfire at night, they would talk quietly among themselves, sharing their stories and comforting one another. Amukelo stayed on the outskirts of these conversations, preferring to keep to himself. Eliss, on the other hand, would occasionally join them, offering words of reassurance when needed. She was good at that—being a steady presence for the others, even when she herself was carrying a hidden burden.
They encountered occasional monsters that roamed the wilds—packs of hungry wolves, a few overgrown beasts, and once even a band of goblins that ambushed them at dusk. But each time, Amukelo and Eliss handled the threats with relative ease. Eliss's magic, combined with Amukelo's formidable swordsmanship, made quick work of these obstacles. The girls they escorted would huddle together, watching in awe as their two protectors effortlessly defended them from danger.
After around two weeks Amukelo was almost fully healed. He was amazed at Eliss's abilities. Her healing spells reduced his healing time significantly. He remembered when he had fought a Landwyrm and had to recover for many weeks, nursing wounds far less severe than the ones inflicted by the priest. Yet now, only two weeks had passed, and his body felt nearly whole again.
One night Eliss woke up earlier than usual. As she stirred from her sleep, she noticed Amukelo still at the edge of the camp, practicing quietly under the moonlight. She had seen him do this almost every night—restless, always training, his sword cutting through the air in slow, deliberate movements.
Eliss watched him for a moment, the firelight casting shadows across his face. Then, after a longer moment of hesitation, she approached him. Amukelo, sensing her presence, sheathed his sword and turned toward her, saying, "Oh right... it's time to change shifts." His tone was neutral, as if he had expected her to remind him.
Amukelo began to walk back toward the camp to get some rest, but before he could retreat, Eliss called out, "Amukelo."
He stopped in his tracks, turning slightly to look at her. Eliss fidgeted, unsure of how to voice what had been on her mind for some time. She took a deep breath and finally asked, "Can I join you on your journey?"
Amukelo was taken aback by the question. He stood there for a moment, studying her face. "Why do you want to join?" he asked, his voice holding a note of suspicion.
Eliss hesitated, clearly thinking about how much of the truth to reveal. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally, she said, "I want to explore the world... get stronger... and experience the adrenaline of the adventure."
Her voice wavered slightly, and Amukelo could see the cracks in her answer. It wasn't genuine. He raised an eyebrow, then smirked ever so slightly. "That adrenaline is not worth the risk," he said in a cold, almost dismissive tone.
He turned away from her, as if the conversation was over. But Eliss, still standing there, clenched her fists at her sides. "So why do you travel?" she asked, her voice firm, though a trace of hurt lingered in her tone.
Amukelo paused mid-step, his back still turned to her. His shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, the air around them seemed to grow heavier. Without turning around, he responded in a voice colder than before, "Because I have nothing to risk."
The weight of those words hung between them. Eliss's lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something more, but she didn't. She just stood there, staring at the back of the man who had saved her life, wondering how much pain someone had to carry to believe they had nothing left to lose.
Amukelo walked back to his sleeping spot, his mind already shifting away from the conversation. As he sat down, he pulled out the small dagger with the tracking artifact. Holding it in his hands, he felt the familiar pull of the magic embedded within it. Slowly, lines of light began to form in the air, pointing in the direction of his target—Neclord.
His heart quickened. As he studied the direction the lines pointed toward, he pulled out his map, tracing the path carefully. His breath hitched when he realized where Neclord was. Norton. The bastard had made it to Norton.
A mad smile twisted on Amukelo's face, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and fury. He could already picture the confrontation in his mind—the final battle between him and the man responsible for all his suffering. The man who would soon pay with his life.
Amukelo hid the dagger securely, but he couldn't shake the adrenaline that now coursed through him. Sleep was a distant thought. His mind raced with images of his confrontation with Neclord. He imagined Neclord's smug face, the satisfaction in his eyes when he had trapped their guild, the arrogance of a man who thought himself untouchable. Amukelo's blood boiled at the memory.
His fists clenched and unclenched as he imagined the blade sinking into Neclord's flesh, the feeling of finally avenging his fallen friends.
But no matter how much his body craved rest, his mind wouldn't let him. The vision of Neclord, the vengeance he sought, played over and over in his head.
The hours of the night dragged on, and Amukelo lay there, staring at the stars, lost in his thoughts. Eliss's words echoed in the back of his mind, but he pushed them aside. There was no room for anything else.