The city of the Inflamed Chalice was one of the largest and most majestic human civilizations on the east side of the continent.
The teleportation formation guaranteed a fast journey to the desired destination, but it still took a couple of hours to reach the other side.
Upon reaching the city, the young man was greeted by a warm and much more pleasant atmosphere than in the village, which was cold due to the proximity of the snow-capped mountains.
However, it made no difference to Atlas because his profession had taken him to many places where the temperature was always a variable factor.
Surrounded by all those stalls overflowing with treasures and precious objects, his heart faltered.
Fortunately, this was not his first trip to the city of the Inflamed Chalice, and he had already prepared himself psychologically for the possible temptations that awaited him.
In fact, he began to walk quickly through the crowd, leaving behind rivers of tears and saliva.
His was a real obsession, like that of the dwarves and the brutal dragons, and although he tried to counter it in many ways, his dumb luck did not help him and instead intensified that deep desire simmering in his heart.
Having passed that terrible, corrupted world, Atlas continued on his way, stopping only when the entrance of a shabby stable stood before him.
A few steps from the main entrance, the young man called loudly to the stable's owner: "Hey... Uncle Beard!"
It did not take long, and a spirited voice rang out from the building, "HAHAHA... Atlas, Is that you? How nice... How nice. Come in..."
Hearing that voice, Atlas entered the stable and found a middle-aged man with a thick black beard and short hair brushing the soft mane of a horse.
The man's care in his work impressed the young man, but he did not have much time, so he spoke without delay: "Uncle Beard, can I borrow one of your horses? I will definitely be back at dawn."
The man did not immediately respond. Instead, he picked up the hammer and nails a few inches from him and, with fantastic dexterity, changed the horseshoes in a few moments.
"Hehe... this metal is truly exceptional... I can feel an invigorating power flowing into the horse's muscles. Little friend, I cannot thank you enough... I will be more than happy to lend you a horse." Uncle Beard finished the final repairs with great care and then continued with a satisfied expression, "Indeed... You came just in time. I just finished the work on that old stallion. With these new irons, old Bolt will go as fast as lightning."
"Mmm...Thank you, Uncle..."
"No... No... Don't do that. I'm the one who has to thank you. You were right! This metal is perfect for my horses. I was able to gain so many new customers, thanks to your help. HAHAHA..."
"I'm happy for you, Uncle." Atlas was genuinely pleased to see the happiness on his face. In fact, Uncle Beard was one of the few martial cultivators in this town with whom he had a good relationship.
Thanks to his knowledge of rare minerals, he had managed to find one that could increase the vigor and pace of the horse.
Clearly, the material was not the only thing that gave the irons those magical properties, but giving Uncle Beard the primary resource had made the relationship between the two much friendlier.
In fact, whenever the young man found himself in these parts, this old barn had become one of the key stops.
Atlas was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the sudden change in Uncle Beard's expression. In fact, the young man suddenly found himself assailed by the fateful proposal that awaited him every time he set foot in the barn: "Hehehe... So? Have you thought about my proposal? You're both at the right age now, and you know..."
Atlas interrupted him promptly before he could start again with the usual speech: "Uncle, I don't have much time today, so..."
"Ah?!... No... no..." Noticing the agitation in the young man's voice, Uncle Beard leaned a little closer to him: "...Come on. She is competent and intelligent. She was one of the best new martial cultivators of her age in the Icy Storm Sect. She has long black hair with a shade of blue and a face comparable to that of a Goddess...."
Uncle Beard wanted very much to achieve his goal. It was too bad, however, that Atlas was not interested at the time.
So, to avoid further trouble, he jumped into the saddle of the old colt: "Uncle... I'm in a hurry. We should talk about this next time...."
AH!!!
AH!!!
The direct blow to the flanks spurred the horse out of the stable like a splinter, leaving behind a dusty cloud.
Old Beard could do nothing but mutter: "What a pity... But next time, you'll probably meet in person..."
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"The fastest and safest route should be this one marked on the map..."
It didn't take him much to leave the city. And now, he was looking at the old map, searching for the safest route to follow.
"Mmm... the only worrisome part will be going through that dense forest. Fortunately, it is only a short stretch, and the destination is located in a relatively safe area that is free of wild beasts. Hopefully, this old horse will be able to get me to my destination without any problems..."
The young man was no fool and knew well that he might encounter dangers along the way, but he had come this far on his own and could only rely on his dumb luck for the path ahead, the only silver lining he had since he could remember.
Indeed, he was a Cursed Child. Someone who couldn't even embark on the martial path. Yet, he wasn't so hopeless because his most remarkable traits were his incredible luck, intelligence, and willpower.
His luck had granted him that encounter and guaranteed him a getaway from the miserable life fate had chosen for him. And it was the one who had blessed his journeys and protected him from the dangers lurking in the world.
After that encounter, he roamed across this continent with his grandparents. He visited many places, dangerous and none, and saw many things that probably ordinary cultivators could never witness in their entire lives.
He had experimented with the fear and joy of these lands and, inevitably, took the step that had released him for the caring embrace of his family.
In recent years, he worked as a miner and other lowkey profession. They had granted him a life with a bit of enticement but free from most of the dangerous situations.
But for Atlas, who craved adventure more than anything else, it turned out to be more of a torment than a blessing.
Accompanied by his new friend, the young man continued toward his destination, grateful for Uncle Beard's help.
After all, the minimum price to buy a low-grade horse was tens of Low-Grade Chaos Stones. An amount that he could effortlessly pay but would have dangerously impacted his savings.
Even though he was a horse far ahead of his years, Bolt was perfect as a temporary mount.
Moreover, it was free, being a gift from Uncle Beard to thank him for his help with the new material.
His good fortune and knowledge had helped him discover the amazing beneficial effects of the metal right among those icy walls of the mining caverns he so hated.
In fact, the irons created from that particular material, along with the Chaos Runes inscribed, granted the mount an incredible increase in speed and tone of the muscles, making them more resistant to fatigue.
Equipped with his new tools, Bolt sped along the dirt road for hours without even stopping for a second.
Clearly, this was not only because of the new irons but also because the old horse was a descendant of one of the best breeds in the world, The Stormy Prairie Horse.
Of all the equine breeds in the World of Oblivion, this one was extraordinary because it came from an ancient lineage with a latent mystical power.
Unfortunately, the old horse had almost reached its end without fully experiencing the wonders of that power.
Thinking of that sad fate much like his own, Atlas sighed sadly: "What a pity!... Old Bolt... we live in a bastard world... but don't worry because I will ask Old Beard to prepare a double dose of food for your return."
As if he could sense his rider's generosity, Bolt began to thrust his valiant hooves hard into the ground, increasing his speed even more.
The wind lashed fiercely through the young man's hair, but he did not allow himself to be subdued by that gentle breeze and clutched the reins tightly, shouting like a madman: "Go... Go even faster, Bolt. Fast like lightning and take me toward my future... toward the Mountain of Emerald Leaf!"