The forest felt darker and the air heavier than before. Shadows draped over the clearing, their depths impenetrable even under the fractured glow of moonlight. It was eerie.

  “Get up! We’re under attack!” I shouted again, my voice a hoarse echo swallowed by the trees. In response…

  Nothing. Not even a stir.

  My head felt slightly heavy for a heartbeat, but it passed almost instantly. Huh, had I slept too hard? No, no…

  There was something wrong here like the whole forest had sucked in its breath and was waiting for the inevitable exhale. Ragna shifted beside me, her eyes narrowing and her hand resting on the hilt of her club. I was glad she’d come out with it. I decided to head back inside my tent to grab my own ax.

  “Something's not right, Thorvyn,” she mumbled, her gaze darting around, searching for movement in the shadows. Her instincts were flaring, the same as mine. We were both sensitive to danger.

  I returned to her side and opened my mouth to respond when the carriage door creaked open. Princess Isolde stepped out, her cloak rustling softly against the wooden frame. “What’s the commotion about?” She looked around, confusion clouding her eyes, her brows knitting together. “Thorvyn, what is happening?”

  Her voice wavered, tinged with an undercurrent of fear. She had heard my shouts and perhaps had expected a monster attack. Yet, she found eerie stillness. She also hadn’t pieced together the scene in front of her yet.

  I turned toward her, nudging my chin to the ground. She followed with her gaze, and her eyes snapped open. She rushed to my side, “W-what?! Borric?!” She shouted when a familiar voice cut through the dark.

  "What's all this shouting about?" The leader of Wolfsbane emerged from the shadows, an easy grin plastered across his scarred face. He strolled forward with an air of lazy indifference, his eyes squinting in confusion. “I think everything’s just fine, isn’t it?”

  “Fine? Can’t you see Borric?” I began, pointing toward the fallen merchant. "He's—” My heart nearly jumped out of my mouth. I noticed a twitch in the man’s finger. Was he- was Borric alive?! In that case, we had to win this!

  Before I could get another word out, there was a sudden sharp pain—a jolt as something struck my chest.

  The Wolfsbane captain had lunged, and a dagger glinted in his hand, the blade slamming into my chest. He looked up at me, his grin spreading, his eyes gleaming triumphantly. My eyes trembled, lips freezing.

  For a heartbeat, everything was still. His eyes searched mine, waiting for a reaction—a wince, a fall, anything. Instead, I stayed quiet, slowly turning my gaze from Borric to the man standing before me. I looked down at the dagger, the blade pressing but not piercing, its tip barely making a dent against my skin.

  I really loved this body of mine.

  "You weak bastard." The words left my lips like a growl, my voice becoming a low rumble. I raised my hand and swung, backhanding him across the face. He tried to block it, but how could his puny body resist? The force sent him sprawling, his body twisting in mid-air before he crashed into a tree several paces away.

  [You’ve killed a human – Level 33!]

  [You’ve received experience points!]

  What the hell? Was he a glass cannon? I was stunned, but maybe he just hit a bad angle? I didn’t get the chance to think for long. Chaos erupted in an instant.

  Princess Isolde was screaming while holding Borric’s body, while Ragna was cursing under her breath, weapon ready at hand. Her caution was smart because the rest of the Wolfsbane mercenaries burst from the shadows, emerging from between the trees like specters, their faces twisted maliciously.

  “Ugh, barbarian bastards,” one of them said as they spread out, surrounding us, forming a tightening circle. “Did the Mana Poison not work against them?”

  Mana Poison? I was confused about what it meant, but it wasn’t hard to guess. I felt fine, and looking back at Ragna, she just shrugged. Then I looked at Princess Isolde. Activating my [Dragon’s Eye], I failed to notice any mana from Isolde.

  The skill wasn’t made for detecting mana from a person, but I could usually glimpse some specs of it leaking from people, including Isolde.

  Right now, she leaked as much mana as a stone wall.

  The poison had worked against her weak human body, while our Valtherian Physique ignored it. Princess Isolde’s face drained of color as she looked up. She, too, must have realized the truth. She was as helpless as a sitting duck. She stood up and looked at the crowd, her eyes red in anger. “Sir Allister!” she called, her voice cracking with panic. Her head whipped around, searching for her knight—her protector. Fear laced her words as the silence dragged on. “Sir Allister, answer me?!”

  I frowned. Was he dead too? Had he been ambushed in his sleep, just like Borric?

  But then, through the ranks of mercenaries, the Knight walked out with a placid face. Sir Allister stepped forward, his expression strangely calm, a sigh escaping his lips. “What a pity. I thought I wouldn’t have to do this myself, Princess, but these brutes somehow ignored the effects of the poison,” he said, shaking his head. His eyes flickered over the dead Wolfsbane captain, a sneer twisting his lips. “No, even if that didn’t work, these idiots couldn’t even handle a simple task like killing a barbarian with the element of surprise. How embarrassing is that?”

  “Sir Allister…” The princess’s voice wavered, caught between disbelief and despair. “Why? You… you have looked after me since I was a child!”

  He met her eyes, his own gaze empty of emotion. “I’m sorry, Princess.”

  “But why?” she demanded, her voice breaking, the word heavy with betrayal. “You were loyal! You served my father! I– I saw you as a guardian. How could you do this?!”

  “I served your father, yes,” he said, his voice cold. “I was. And it’s a pity you thought of me as your guardian… I never saw you as anything more than a spoiled brat who couldn’t even graduate from Waybound despite having the opportunity to enroll.”

  “...Wait, what do you mean ‘was’?” Despite the many things he said, Isolde’s face twisted in confusion at his choice of verb.

  He stared at her and then slowly reached into his coat. I stepped over the Princess just in case, but the man only withdrew a folded piece of parchment. He held it up, and the wax seal cracked and broke. I had a bad feeling about it even before he spoke.

  “King Asharion the II has passed away,” he said, his voice almost gentle, but the words falling like stones on still water. “The news brought me great sorrow, but the main contents of the letter aren’t the news of his death. It’s about the second prince…”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “You…”

  “Your younger brother has made me an offer I can’t refuse. A future I couldn’t achieve under your father, and certainly not under the rule of your pretentious self,” he looked at her, something almost like pity flashing across his face. “Hand over the Crown Jewel, Princess. Do that, and I promise I’ll make your death quick. Painless. Otherwise…” A wild grin stretched across his face. “You see, while you saw me as a guardian, I’ve started seeing you as a woman as more years went by…”

  Behind him, the mercenaries chuckled, licking their tongue. Princess Isolde had frozen hearing that, her expression slowly shifting to more disgust than betrayal.

  Ragna and I exchanged a glance. Her face was set, her eyes narrowed into slits, her jaw clenched in fury. I felt the dots connect in my head. So this is why a fine Knight was coming out of a shady alley that day… Turns out he’s a shit Knight.

  “Ragna, keep the Princess safe,” I said. “I’ll deal with the big threats.” Without needing any more words, Ragna moved beside me, stepping in front of Isolde, shielding her with our bodies.

  Allister sighed, his gaze hardening as he looked at us. “You two barbarian pigs.” His voice dripped with disdain. “Princess, this is exactly why I warned you against hiring them. They’re just making things messier!”

  Princess Isolde’s eyes blazed with a mix of anger and fear. “Borric’s daughter is a Sixth Ascension,” she shouted, her voice trembling with emotion. “She’ll kill you when she finds out about this, Allister. She’ll hunt you down!”

  Allister’s lips curled into a cold, humorless smile. “That is if she finds out,” he said, his tone dismissive. “None of you will be leaving this place to contact her. Besides,” he shrugged, “I’m a Knight of Thalassaria. She’s just a mage, even if she graduates from Waybound Academy. This is foreign soil. She has no influence here.”

  Princess Isolde lifted her chin, her hands trembling as she raised them, mana swirling faintly at her fingertips. “I’m not going down without a fight, Allister,” she declared, her voice firm. “Even if you’re Fifth Ascension, I’m still a 4th Ascension [Mage], and I—”

  Her words cut off abruptly as she doubled over, a violent cough racking her body. Blood spattered across her palm, and her legs gave out beneath her. Ragna moved instantly, catching her as she fell, her eyes wide with concern. “Princess!” she shouted, her voice filled with panic.

  Allister let out a sharp laugh, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “I knew you’d be trouble, Princess. I’ve seen your power before, so I poisoned your food. Did you not realize it when one of these fools blabbered it out earlier? Princess, you ought to pay more attention. But yes, you won’t use your magic for a while.”

  “You are one piece of work, you dirty bastard,” I said, twirling my ax in my hand. He turned to me and raised his chin as if to look down at me.

  His tone dripped with arrogance as he addressed me, “It was an expensive poison, unfortunately. I only had one more and decided to divide it between you and that whore-looking pig. Seems like the dosage wasn’t enough, pity.”

  He gestured toward his men. “Take care of the princess. She’s basically a helpless child, so you can kill her as long as you take out that barbarian woman,” he ordered, his eyes narrowing as he turned to me again. “I’ll handle this bastard myself.”

  The mercenaries began to move, closing in around us, their weapons gleaming in the faint moonlight as they laughed among themselves. We were badly outnumbered, so naturally, they assumed their victory was certain. Honestly… I couldn't blame them.

  I could see the hunger in their eyes—the blood lust, the thrill of an easy kill. I didn’t know if I could come out of this alive. Especially since Allister is a strong fucker…

  I gripped my ax tighter, feeling the familiar weight in my hands, the fire in my veins. Ragna stood beside me, her club at the ready, her lips peeled back in a fierce grin.

  The tension snapped like a drawn bowstring, and the fight began. “Haah! Kill these barbaric cunts !”

  A guttural roar tore from my throat as I lunged forward, the weight of my ax swinging down. Blood splattered as three arms and two legs went flying.

  The forest came alive with the clash of metal and the roar of battle. The chill of the night was replaced by the heat of rage, a palpable inferno that burned through the air, carried by the shouts and screams of combat.

  “Fools! Stay away from him, didn’t I say I’ll take care of him?!” Allister shouted, and the mercenaries grumbled, moving away and toward Ragna instead. I couldn’t chase them because a powerful blade swung toward me, the metal flashing silver in the moonlight, and I brought up my ax to block, the impact jarring up my arm.

  Allister stepped back, his eyes narrowed, muttering something under his breath. I couldn’t hear his words, but I could feel the energy gathering—dark, malevolent. Probably some powerful [Skill], I had to be careful.

  He lunged again, his blade coated with a faint glow, and I moved to counter, my own power flaring in response. “Rargh, [Tempest Strike]!” I roared, my ax blazing as the wind and fire swirled together, wrapping around the weapon’s edge.

  I found the prospect of shouting my Skill name senseless, but shouting helped cast it faster. In battles like these, every second was of value. As the words left my lips, my Class worked its magic, the elements came to my side. I swung it wide, the elemental energy crackling, chaining into the nearest enemies, setting them ablaze, and sending arcs of fire into the night. The shockwave sent Allister skidding back, his boots grinding against the forest floor.

  He spat, straightening. “So, the barbarian knows a trick or two,” he muttered, his eyes darkening. “[Blade of the Fallen!]” He shouted, his voice a harsh whisper as the blade in his hand seemed to shimmer, dark energy coating it like an ink-black mist. He lunged again, faster this time, and I barely had time to twist my body, his blade grazing my ribs. Pain flared, a sharp burn, but I ignored it, the heat of my own rage keeping me focused.

  Around us, Ragna fought with reckless abandon, her club swinging wide, smashing into any mercenary foolish enough to get within range. Her laughter echoed, fierce and wild, as she cut a path through the chaos. But there were too many of them—too many blades flashing in the dark, too many enemies to fight simultaneously. She was already far more injured than I was, I could see blood.

  “Focus here, fool,” Allister grinned, a dark gleam in his eye as he pressed forward, his blade moving like a serpent, striking again and again, each time testing my defenses.

  Thankfully, I already had [Dragon’s Eye] activated, but I focused my mana on it further, my vision sharpening, the world around me becoming vivid, every detail clear. Allister’s movements slowed in my sight, his attacks telegraphed. I countered, my ax coming down with a roar, the metal humming as it struck his blade.

  Fire roared along the length of my ax, the flames licking at his armor, but he twisted away, his blade snaking up, slashing toward my throat.

  I ducked, swinging my ax wide and forcing him back. “[Storm Call!]” I growled, summoning a swirling tempest around me, lightning crackling in the air. The wind howled, and the storm roared to life, enveloping us in a whirl of fire and lightning, burning and shocking any mercenary foolish enough to step too close.

  “What the–!” Allister appeared shocked. For a moment, I had him on the back foot, my storm pushing him back, my strikes coming faster, my fury turning each swing into a deadly arc of flame and force. His eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face as he struggled to keep up, his armor clinking against my strikes.

  Things were looking good, but I heard a feminine grunt from the side. I caught a glimpse of Ragna, her face streaked with blood, cornered by too many blades. I had to finish this fast…! I managed to kick a stone from the ground, and it screeched through the air and slammed into one of their throats. He dropped dead.

  That second of attention cost me a lot, however. The unthinkable happened.

  Allister used a skill that he shouted too fast for me to catch, and his sword moved like a snake. It didn’t injure me, no, but the ax in my hands shuddered, a deep crack splintering along its handle. “Shit.” I felt it give way, the metal fracturing.

  In a heartbeat, the weapon shattered. The obsidian ax head fell uselessly to the ground, its shattered handle scattering around me. The handle had already shown signs of strain from the dragon fight, but I’d hoped it would last longer. It was useless, as the shattered pieces scattered across the forest floor.

  “Heh, can’t believe that worked,” Allister said, jumping back as surprise flashed across his face, a grin on his lips. He laughed, the sound cold in the dark. “What did I tell you, barbarian? Should have gotten a better weapon,” he mocked, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Honestly, I'll admit... You might have actually posed a threat if your weapon hadn’t been trash. I guess stories about your people aren’t all exaggerations…”

  “Dammit,” I cursed, my mind going blank as I wondered how I could parry a 5th Ascension Knight’s sword barehanded.

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