Things always happened according to Grey's will. It was as if the very fabric of his existence conspired to fulfill his desires. However, far from being a gift, this quality felt more like a curse. His body and mind, shackled to an invisible oath, compelled him to keep his word, cruelly playing with his emotions and decisions. And though his demeanor might appear that of a persevering man, the truth was more bitter: this compulsion distanced him from those he loved. Time and again, his loved ones confronted him, accusing him of past, present, and future mistakes, as if his very essence were an affront to them.
Yet in all the vast world, there were two people who never turned their backs on him, regardless of the weight of circumstances or the magnitude of his faults.
"We will return soon, Leo," Grey said with a calmness that belied the storm within him. He adjusted the strap of his backpack with a firm gesture and added, "I entrust the kingdom and continent to you in my absence. We will likely be away for a few weeks, so do not send knights to look for us."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Leo replied, bowing his head respectfully, though his voice carried a hint of concern. "Take care, my lord, and return if things go awry."
Grey nodded, barely giving him a glance before turning toward the path that led beyond the city walls, northward to the neighboring continent: the land of the dwarves.
The path soon took them to fields lush with greenery. Fresh grass and brightly colored flowers stretched before them, bringing smiles to both Grey and Camellya. She, carrying a small supply of food in her backpack, made an elegant gesture with her hands. A light magical drizzle fell from the sky, nourishing the flowers, although Grey's natural mana already seemed to make the earth bloom beneath their steps. But Camellya, with a heart full of gratitude, sought to add her own touch of kindness.
They walked for days, enjoying the leisurely pace of their journey until they encountered something unexpected.
The forest now surrounding them was a place of nightmare. The air was thick with a nauseating stench: a mix of decay, excrement, and death. Grey moved forward impassively, but Camellya could not help but cover her nose with her hand, trying to suppress her nausea.
"How much longer until we leave this place?" Camellya asked, her voice barely a whisper laden with discomfort.
"Soon. Probably," Grey replied without even flinching at the smell. "At this rate, we should be out in about thirty seconds."
Camellya looked at him with a mix of disbelief and resignation. But just as Grey finished speaking, a blinding light—like the flash of a weapon—burst from the shadows and shot directly towards him. With impeccable reflexes, Grey leaned back just in time to narrowly evade the attack.
"What the hell was that?!" he exclaimed as his eyes darted around, scanning their surroundings.
From the shadows emerged a figure followed by others. They were dwarves: four in total; two armed with swords and the other two wielding spears. The first one stepped forward and spoke in a deep mocking voice.
"Haha! That reaction speed is admirable. Lord Robert was not mistaken: we must be cautious with you."
One of the sword-wielding dwarves advanced toward Grey arrogantly. His confident smile radiated latent danger. Grey observed him in silence without uttering a word; just hearing Robert's name was enough to understand the reason for this ambush.
"What's wrong? Has an Achbeer lost his tongue?" taunted the dwarf.
Grey did not respond. His gaze remained fixed on the warrior as his disgust for the place seemed to intensify.
Meanwhile, Camellya assessed their adversaries. With a subtle movement, she began channeling mana into the soles of her feet and into the fingertips of her left arm. A thick mist began to envelop the area.
"Pff! Let's end this!" shouted the dwarf leader, and in an instant, his companions charged into battle.
The first clash was violent. Grey faced off against the dwarf leader while Camellya fought off the others. The strength of the dwarf leader was astonishing; his sword struck with such force that it forced Grey to retreat. But Grey, with cunning that had been his ally in countless battles, let his feet drop to the ground only to lift them again with an unexpected motion. His heel struck hard against the dwarf's jaw, sending him flying through the air. Seizing the opportunity, Grey leaped up and unsheathed his whip sword in one fluid motion. The slash descended accurately, cleaving the dwarf in two.
Blood splattered onto the ground as the lifeless body of the dwarf fell down. Grey watched it for a moment, pressing his lips together as if each death reopened old wounds from a distant war. However, he forced himself to push those thoughts aside and ran towards Camellya.
She was surrounded but her scythe danced through the air, slicing through the dwarves' spears. Concentrating mana in his palm, Grey lunged at one of the sword-wielding dwarves. When he struck the dwarf's face, the force of impact was enough to disfigure him and end his life. The remaining two spear-wielders recoiled in fear at this spectacle; it would be their last decision as Camellya swiftly and lethally ended their lives.
Grey turned away as blood splattered across his face. The memory of the Great War against Astaroth, the Demon King pierced through him like a dagger.
"Who were they?" Camellya asked softly.
"Knights of Robert," replied Grey gravely. "This journey will be much more dangerous than I imagined…"
As he spoke, he dismissed his sword with a gesture. Though invisible now, he knew it would be within reach at any moment.
The march continued even as the weight of past burdens and unanswered questions pressed heavier than their backpacks.