Asa took the knife out from under the bed. It was already covered in dust. This weapon, which embodied his father's hard work and blessings, representing his own dreams, had been lying there for a long time. Bishop Ronis had forbidden him from carrying this knife, which was unsuitable for a priest's identity, even in appearance. After all, knives were seen as tools of soldiers and ruffians, crude objects for slashing and killing.
Strapping the knife onto his back, Asa felt the familiar weight pressing through the rough linen of his clothes, rubbing against his skin. He wore the typical gear of an adventurer, with essentials like salt, honey, and herbs carefully tucked into his pockets—small items vital for survival in the wild. His appearance now was just as it had been the night he left Kalendor, but his mood was entirely different.
Back then, he was purely excited and thrilled. Now, he wasn't sure what he felt. Perhaps a little discouraged, and yet, there was an odd sense of relief.
Leaving the small inner room, Asa looked around and saw the strange old man, standing there holding a dead person's hand, curiously watching him. It dawned on him that he would likely never return here, and surprisingly, he felt a bit reluctant to leave this bizarre place full of corpses and organs.
He walked up to Sandru and sighed. Half-embracing, he patted Sandru's shoulder and said, "Goodbye, you old corpse. I'll miss you if I get the chance."
Sandru jumped back like a startled rabbit, brushing off where Asa had touched him, glaring. "What's wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?"
"Hey, just saying goodbye since I'm leaving." Asa sheepishly pulled his hand back.
"Leaving? To where?"
"I don't know, probably going on the run while traveling the world."
"Not going to do the tasks Ronis arranged for you anymore?" Sandru rolled his eyes at him.
"No, I can't do it."
"Planning to turn yourself in when you get caught and go see Vadenina?"
Asa gave a wry smile. "Am I looking for death? A few days ago, two necromancers almost killed me. I heard from someone named Master Aiden that aside from Vadenina, every necromancer out there wants me dead. I really don't know what my lich classmate is up to."
"Aiden, that guy…" Sandru was taken aback. "Those bastards are already… I wonder what Vadenina will do... But, well, it's none of my business anymore. Let them mess around." He sighed and then looked at Asa again. "And you're still daring to run around? Are you tired of living?"
Asa spread his hands. "I just don't want to keep doing those 'great' things under Bishop Ronis. I have my own things I want to do."
"Even if you're wanted by the Church and the elves?" Sandru stared at him with his lifeless, black-and-white eyes. "What about being hunted by the Guild? Aren't you afraid? Aside from Ronis, they probably don't care about anyone else. Even a king is nothing more than a chicken to them—killable at will. Aren't you scared, you sissy boy?"
"Of course I'm scared. Who isn't afraid of death?" Asa smiled bitterly and sighed, speaking softly. "But I know more clearly what I want to do and what I won't do. If they want to kill me, let them try. I'm not necessarily easier to be killed than a king."
Sandru tilted his head and stared at him. His eyes, emitting that dead-like glow, suddenly nodded. "So, not a sissy boy any more, you've already become a man." He then looked up again and asked, "Aren't you afraid I'll grab you right now and hand you over to Ronis? You know we're friends, right?" He spread his hands, looking all righteous. "And as someone who values loyalty, I'll naturally keep my friends in mind and look out for them."
"Oh no! I forgot about that!" Asa suddenly realized, slapping his forehead. Then he frowned at Sandru. "But since you're so loyal, you wouldn't betray me, right?"
Sandru glared at him fiercely. "You're just a corpse-moving laborer under my command. What makes you think you have the right to talk to me about loyalty?" He turned and went into the inner room, rummaging for a while, then threw two items at Asa. "No pay for quitting midway. But since you worked hard, here are two things I don't use. They might help you live a bit longer."
Asa caught them—a book and something soft. He casually flipped open the book and saw the title: The Principles of Controlling Skeletons and Zombies. He looked at Sandru in surprise. "Is this…?"
"It's a book I wrote out of boredom over the years, about necromancy. I didn't originally intend to give it to anyone, but since you're an honest guy, take it as a keepsake."
"But… this is necromancy…" Asa hesitated a bit.
"A magic that can save your life is good magic," Sandru spat on the ground. "Bah, you ungrateful brat! I'm giving you a gift, and you're being picky? If you don't want it, give it back."
"I'll take it, of course," Asa hurriedly tucked the book into his chest. Indeed, any magic that could be useful was good magic. Under the influence of the Dark Meditation technique, necromancy seemed to be the only type of magic he could still practice. He vividly remembered how, during the encounter with Master Aiden, he was running around trying to dodge the opponent's flying magic bolts and lightning strikes. If he kept relying on low-level fireballs, even carrying a hundred World Tree leaves wouldn't be enough.
Asa then looked at the other item—a soft piece of flesh with twisted facial features, resembling a mask. It was the same one he had used to evade the Duke when he first arrived in the capital. Ever since the Duke lifted his bounty, he had forgotten where he left it. Who knew Sandru had kept it?
"You old corpse, this is a great item! Why didn't you give it to me earlier?" If the necromancy book only brought him mild surprise, this mask made Asa overjoyed. Wearing it, as long as Sandru didn't tell, nobody besides Bishop Ronis, Duke Mrak, and a few others could recognize him. He should have remembered this crucial thing earlier—he could have escaped long ago.
"I don't give good things to sissies," Sandru said indifferently. Suddenly, he reached out his hand toward Asa. "By the way, let me see that chopping tool you're carrying on your back."
Asa handed the knife over, and the old man inspected it. He flicked the blade with his bony, pale finger, producing a ringing metallic sound. "Hmm. As expected, this is crafted from top-quality Kalandor minerals. But it looks like it was made by a good blacksmith without any further enhancements, right?"
"Yes, it was made by my father," Asa replied.
"Your father?" Sandru nodded and took the knife into the inner room. After rummaging around, he returned with a small bottle, muttering to himself, "Only today did I realize this knife is such a fine piece. There's a magical experiment I've always wanted to try. You don't mind, do you?"
"Hey…" Asa was hesitant. "Don't break it."
Without answering, Sandru cleared a space on the stone table with the knife, bit his finger, and drew a small magic circle in blood on the table. He placed the knife in the center, then opened the small bottle, releasing a faintly bloody magical aura.
Asa saw what looked like two animal fangs inside the bottle and frowned. "What's that?"
"Two fangs of a vampire count. These things weren't easy to get. Killing that monster gave me a headache," Sandru mumbled, placing the fangs on the blade and holding them down with his finger while chanting a low incantation.
The magic circle began to glow faintly. Asa could faintly sense an immense magical power gathering within the circle, vibrating, yet it hardly spread beyond that small space. As Sandru continued his chant, the magic within the three-foot-wide space became denser, and the two fangs began to soften and melt.
The pungent smell of blood filled the room, overwhelming the usual stench of corpses. Whether real or imagined, Asa could hear eerie, shrill wailing sounds echoing faintly in his mind. These sounds seemed to directly resonate in his soul, shaking his heart.
The magic within the circle grew stronger, as if a vast ocean was being compressed into that small area. The vampire fangs had now fully melted into a pool of white liquid, flowing over the knife's blade. Although there was no actual sound, Asa felt as if the wailing was about to bring the entire room crashing down. He looked at Sandru in fear, only to find the old man, always so composed, now drenched in cold sweat, his face pale and almost transparent under his wild beard and hair.
But Asa dared not speak. Interrupting the spell now would be more than just a problem with the knife.
Finally, the eerie wails began to subside. The white liquid that had once been the fangs now seeped into the knife like water into a sponge.
"Give me your hand," Sandru commanded in a deep voice. Before Asa could even react, he found his hand already in Sandru's grasp. Sandru withdrew the fingers he had been pressing on his teeth, pinching a small piece of flesh from the center of Asa's index finger. A sharp pain shot through Asa, and that piece of flesh was gone.
Blood splattered onto the blade, hissing as it landed, like a drop on a hot iron plate, leaving a dark mark. The strange wailing noise stopped abruptly. At the same time, the magical energy from the array poured into the blade.
Sandru staggered, and Asa quickly reached out to support him. Sandru wiped the sweat from his forehead and sighed, "I am really getting old..."
After catching his breath, Sandru pushed Asa's hand away and stood on his own. "Pick up the knife and take a look."
Apart from the bloodstain, the knife seemed unchanged. But as soon as Asa grasped it, he could feel a strange magical force flowing within the blade. Perhaps because his own blood had been added, the magic's rhythm seemed to sync with his breathing and heartbeat. What had been a plain, ordinary knife was now a magical weapon.
He had only heard of magical weapons before. They required the highest-level blacksmiths to collaborate with powerful magicians during the forging process, along with the addition of rare magical materials, to ensure that the weapon would hold magical energy indefinitely. Some top-tier magical weapons were worth a fortune. Yet here, in just a short moment, Sandru had crafted one on his own—an unbelievable feat.
"You're lucky, kid. I only theorized about this spell, never thought it would work so perfectly on the first try," Sandru said, looking weak but nodding approvingly at his creation. "Not bad, not bad."
Asa held the knife, feeling the flow of magic inside it. He looked at the book and mask in his other hand, a strange surge of emotion rising in his chest. He looked at the worn-out Sandru and suddenly bowed to him. "Thank you... for taking care of me all this time."
But Sandru nearly spat in his face. "Cut the crap, who took care of you? Get lost if you're leaving."
Asa smiled wryly at the strange old man. "If I have time in the future, I'll come back to visit."
Sandru looked him over carefully again, then sighed, nodding before shaking his head. He muttered, "When I first saw you, I thought I'd just picked up a cheap laborer... but who knew so much would happen after? Life really is unpredictable. Ah, well, no point in dwelling on it. We all just need to do what we're supposed to do. Now get going... Oh, by the way, aren't you going to say goodbye to Ronis?"
"No need. I'll skip that," Asa said with a bitter smile. "Besides, I heard some bishop named Adra is visiting from the church today. Ronis is probably busy."
"Bishop Adra?" Sandru's expression froze for a moment, and he squinted as if trying to recall something. "I feel like I've heard that name somewhere... A strange feeling." But he didn't seem to figure it out, just frowning and saying, "Hmm... After you leave, don't come back, even if you have time. I have a feeling something's not right..."
"What's not right?" Asa asked.
"Nothing you need to worry about," Sandru waved him off. "If you're leaving, then hurry up and go."
Asa left the house and stood on a small hill outside the capital city, looking back at the endless rows of buildings. Though this place held mostly unpleasant memories for him, the thought that he would likely never return stirred some reluctance in him.
What am I reluctant about...? Asa sighed.
That evening, at the Duke's mansion.
The young female assistant minister of finance had just finished reviewing the last batch of documents for the day and stood up to stretch. She had been working at her desk since morning, now for over ten hours. There wasn't a single official in the empire more dedicated or hardworking than she was.
Not only was she diligent, but her abilities were also astounding. In just a few months, she had brought order to the previously chaotic imperial finances. Her exceptional talent earned her the recognition of all the officials in the court, and with her father's influence and subtle maneuvering, she had become indispensable. Although her official title was still assistant minister, many major financial decisions were now in her hands. The aging Minister of Finance was happy to pass on work to such a capable successor, subtly signaling to Duke Murak that he was willing to step aside when the time came. Everyone knew that it wouldn't be long before she officially became the empire's finance minister.
For the sake of convenience, and because as a woman it wasn't proper to be constantly running around, she had set up her office within the Duke's mansion. Of course, Duke Murak had a hand in this arrangement as well. With his daughter running the empire's finances from his own home, it gave him both practical advantages and immense satisfaction.
Though some might think this arrangement gave grounds for gossip, Elaine's work was so flawless and fair that no one could accuse her of anything improper. Besides, with the Duke's current power and influence, he no longer needed to worry about what people said.
Rumors were dangerous, and a good reputation was important, but only when there were rivals to compete with, when it was necessary to win over others or lull them into complacency. When your power was overwhelming, with few to challenge you, there was no need to waste energy on maintaining appearances. Duke Murak was not a shallow man who would flaunt his power. He was measured in everything he did.
Still, the Duke was pleasantly surprised by his daughter's success in the political arena. Father and son fight side by side, they say. Though I don't have a son, having such a capable daughter is more than enough to bring comfort. People often praised her as a worthy daughter of a great man, but Elaine often smiled bitterly at such words. Everyone believed it, even her father, but in truth, it wasn't the case.
She had no ambition for power. While she might not be the most competent or hard-working official in the world, she was certainly the most reluctant one.
It seemed like she had everything—status, power, family, a husband. But deep down, she knew she had almost nothing.
She didn't belong in the world she lived in. Her husband and home were nothing but chains from the very start. Although she still had her father, Duke Murak's actions had long since extinguished any sense of familial warmth she might have felt.
Thankfully, she finally had her "career." After saving the King's life, she had been offered many rewards, but she asked only for an official position, so she could escape the role of "noble lady."
And she had succeeded. With her intelligence and the empathy she gained from her years of adventuring, she fully immersed herself in her work. She strove to do the best she could in everything she took on. Being so busy left no room for doubts or second thoughts, and when she achieved results, there was a sense of satisfaction. She had gradually found purpose in her life, even a bit of motivation and passion. The thought that her work might help thousands live better, that it could make the country better, filled her with fulfillment.
But in the stillness of the night, when she had to stop working and rest, the loneliness would creep back. She couldn't help but wonder: How is he doing now?
Elaine stepped out onto the terrace, staring blankly at the stars. For some reason, tonight's sky seemed particularly clear and beautiful, like the nights she had spent with him on the wild highlands. With a deep sigh, she remembered their carefree, joyful days in Orford. Those times were gone forever.
Perhaps from exhaustion, her mind started to drift. She seemed to hear his footsteps again, the sound of his rough shoes scuffing the ground, that familiar rhythm drawing closer. Even the scent of his sweat seemed to waft to her...
Elaine closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the hazy dream.
"You rarely see stars like these in the capital. But how can you see them with your eyes closed?"
She opened her eyes in shock and turned around. He was standing right beside her.
He wasn't wearing the white robe of a priest, but the same rough clothes he had worn before. His hair was a bit messy, and on his back was the oddly shaped knife—just like he had looked in Orford.
Surprised beyond words, she didn't dare move, afraid to find out whether this was just a dream or reality.
Asa reached out and touched her face, gently saying, "You've gotten thinner... Didn't I tell you to stop being so picky with your food?"
Suppressing the urge to throw herself into his arms, Elaine took a step back. "What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?"
"I'm leaving," Asa said with a smile.
"Leaving? Where are you going?"
"I'm going to travel the world, just like I told you before."
"But the bishop gave you so many responsibilities. How can you just abandon them?"
"I've decided to leave this place for good. I won't be coming back."
"Never coming back?" Elaine looked at him, stunned.
"Yes, never coming back," Asa said, stepping forward and pulling her into his arms. "I came to see you tonight."
"What are you doing? Let go..." Elaine struggled, but his arms held her tightly.
Finally, she could no longer struggle and collapsed onto his shoulder, tears streaming down like a flood. "With you leaving..." Her voice choked, unable to continue.
With you leaving, what was the point of all I had given up before?
Asa lowered his head and found her lips, already feeling...
The door to the room suddenly crashed open. The Duke stood in the doorway, his gaze as sharp as a knife.
Asa quickly jumped off the balcony, disappearing into the darkness with a few agile leaps.
"Father..." Elaine stepped back in panic. It had been a long time since she had felt so helpless.
Duke Murak strode quickly onto the balcony, glancing in the direction where Asa had disappeared. His face still bore a friendly smile, but his eyes were razor-sharp. "I originally came to consult my daughter about some financial matters, but I didn't expect to find such an uninvited guest at this late hour. I overheard some very interesting things... But there are still a few matters I don't quite understand. Elaine, can you explain them to Daddy? Hahaha..."
The affectionate word "Daddy" and her father's cheerful laughter had disappeared from Elaine's memory for over a decade. Hearing it again after so many years made her feel like she had fallen into an ice pit, her whole body shivering with cold, every pore tingling with dread.