Chapter Forty-Seven: Happiness, Merely a Shadow

When they left the mountains and crossed that stretch of Flaming Marsh, it was all thanks to the wind-element magic ring stripped from the dead mage’s finger.

Set in the ring was a minor wind spell, which, by Dodoro’s appraisal, was of mid-tier, level one. According to the continent’s magical classification—each of the three ranks, upper, middle, and lower, is divided into three levels, making nine in total—mid-tier level one wasn’t especially powerful, but it was enough to be considered true mid-tier magic. The wind magic imbued in this ring wasn’t quite enough to let someone ride the wind and fly, but gliding was just barely possible…

So, if you were to ask how they crossed the Flaming Marsh…

It was simple.

Shaya put the ring on the Wretch’s finger, tied the Wretch and Dodoro together, then, standing at the edge of the marsh, hoisted them both up and, with all his strength, hurled them toward the opposite side…

With Shaya’s monstrous strength and the magic’s assistance, the Wretch and Dodoro managed to glide across, soaring over the marsh, over the forest, and even over a mountain peak…

By the time Shaya caught up to them, the two were already hanging from a branch at the foot of another mountain, waiting for nearly half a day.

“If we keep heading south, crossing the goblin territory of the Red Wastes, we’ll reach the forests of Wildfire Plain. In half a month at most, ten days if we’re lucky, we should be back at Wildfire Town.” Shaya rescued the Wretch and Dodoro from the tree. “A pity about Ox, though. He’s gone. Heaven help him if he’s been carried off by some wolf.”

As he spoke, Shaya shot a glance at the whimpering mage and muttered, “Ox was a decent servant. As for this one, well… hmph.”

Thanks to the miraculous effects of dragon’s blood, the Wretch’s legs had healed. Though not fully recovered in strength, she could walk without issue, so she no longer needed to be carried as before.

Dodoro, the unfortunate mage, fared even worse than the Wretch—worse, in fact, than the Wretch before her legs had healed. Mages were generally frail, but Dodoro’s constitution bordered on the absurd. If magical prowess were inversely proportional to physical health, Dodoro should have been an archmage.

He had barely walked ten miles before his legs went weak, his face ashen, panting as if ready to collapse at any moment, his legs trembling as though boneless, shivering the whole way.

Shaya was exasperated. Not only could this servant not carry anything, but he needed support just to walk. If not for a twinge of guilt over having robbed him of a robe, Shaya would have abandoned this burden long ago.

The three followed the river south, reentering the Red Wastes. As they walked along the water, the Wretch recalled the journey north—what she and this bumpkin had endured together: the goblins, the ghouls, the knights hunting her…

“Hey, Shaya.”

That night, as they camped, the bumpkin put out the fire. The three huddled together, lying on the earth still warm from the flames. The Wretch gazed at Shaya beside her and softly called his name. The fire was out, and only faint starlight shone down. Her heart fluttered anxiously, her cheeks flushed—thankfully, the bumpkin couldn’t see her in the dark…

Or so she hoped…

“Hey? Why is your face red like a monkey’s behind?” Shaya stared wide-eyed at the Wretch.

She gasped, quickly turning away. “W-what do you mean, red! How can you even see me?”

“I was born with night-eyes. No matter how dark, I can see just fine. That’s why I’m a born hunter—uh, demon hunter!” Shaya grinned, tapping his eyes. “Didn’t I ever tell you? I have so many talents, sometimes I forget them myself.”

The Wretch cursed him inwardly but, learning he could see in the dark, dared not look at him again. She hung her head, fiddling with a dry twig, and murmured, “Hey, Shaya, what will you do when we get back?”

“My plans?” The bumpkin thought a moment, then broke into a wide grin. “I have plenty! With all we’ve gained this time, I can finally get myself some good gear. With better weapons and armor, I’ll be a top-tier demon hunter! I’ll drink the finest wine, live in a big house, wear comfortable clothes… Oh, and I’ll buy a little house in Wildfire Town, one with a yard. And I want a horse, too. I’m a terrible rider, and you can’t hunt beasts on the plains without a horse…”

He spoke with relish, painting a picture of a bright future, thoroughly delighted with his newfound fortune.

But as his excitement grew, the Wretch sighed softly. She finally lifted her head, gazing into the darkness at Shaya—she couldn’t see him, but wanted him to see her eyes.

“Is that all you want? To stay in Wildfire Town, be a demon hunter, and live out your days that way?”

Shaya asked in turn, “If not that, then what?”

“Have you thought of leaving Wildfire Plain, of going to the Byzantine Empire? It’s the heart of civilization. You could see so many wonderful things…”

“No interest,” Shaya replied, shaking his head, his tone flat and decisive. “I was born and raised here. Everything I know is here. In these wilds, these mountains, I know how to find food, clothes, water. I know how to survive. The people of Wildfire Town are cunning, but they have rules. Here, it’s the law of the jungle—the strong rule. Everyone’s fierce, but the rules are clear and simple; as long as you follow them, you’re safe. All in all, the folk here are rough, but straightforward.

“But I’ve heard from old-timers that in the Byzantine Empire, people are complicated—especially the rich and the nobles. They’ll smile to your face and stab you in the back. Even the man-eating beasts of the plain are better company than those snakes. I’d rather stay in Wildfire Town. Besides, I don’t know anything else. Apart from hunting, what could I do?”

“You’re a rare warrior. You could become a knight, a guard! With your skills, you could—” the Wretch began, but Shaya cut her off with a snort.

“So you want me to be someone’s lackey?” He shook his head fiercely. “I’d rather be a mercenary, living rough, risking my life for my keep, than play watchdog for some fat noble! Stand when they sit, watch them eat, stand guard while they bed their women? Forget it! That’s not for me. I don’t like bowing and scraping.”

The Wretch immediately realized her blunder. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I know you hate being tied down. But… you could join the army. With your skills, if you wanted…”

Given her background, the Wretch could easily arrange for Shaya to join the army with a good post. He might not attain great nobility, but a smooth path upward was all but assured.

The army?

Shaya’s eyes lit up, as if tempted, but he quickly shook his head. “No, I’d rather be a demon hunter—free to do as I please. In the army, I’d probably get myself beheaded for breaking orders within days.”

“That’s not true, you could—” the Wretch blurted out, but caught herself just in time. She had almost said that she could install him in one of the legions stationed around the royal city, where, with her protection, nobody would trouble him. Perhaps they could even see each other often…

Shaya chuckled. “Why do you want me to be a soldier so badly? Or is it that you want to go? Forget it! You may be tall, but you’re too thin and couldn’t handle the hardship.”

After a pause, he asked, “And you? Once we’re back in Wildfire Town, where will you go?”

“I…” The Wretch suddenly felt lost.

Where would she go? Home?

If she returned, her uncle would surely kill her. And after learning the truth about that matter, how could she ever go back? Then… Odin? But her father was dead. There, she’d be alone, and in the Odin Empire, where bloodlines meant everything, her Byzantine heritage would make her a target for scorn and bullying.

Her only option was to seek refuge with her brother. Across the continent, only he could protect her from her uncle. From childhood, he had cared for her deeply—their bond as cousins was closer than that of siblings. And her uncle’s health was rumored to be failing. If she hid away for a few years under her brother’s protection, once he inherited, everything would change.

But… hiding for years…

“I don’t know,” the Wretch sighed.

“Well, you could stay here with me,” Shaya laughed.

Her heart pounded wildly.

Stay? Stay here, with this bumpkin?

Stay in Wildfire Town? Live with him, sharing a simple life, eating coarse cakes, listening to his boisterous laughter and hearty curses… watching his proud, strutting ways…

It sounded… oddly tempting…

And, aside from his roughness, he was clever and resourceful—and he could protect her. Living with him day after day, she found he wasn’t so detestable. In fact, sometimes his gruff insults were almost endearing…

Her thoughts tangled, her breath quickened.

If she returned to her brother, she’d hide away under his care, well-fed and clothed but never free, unable to go out lest her uncle’s men found her. But if she stayed here with Shaya, she’d give up her noble status, choose to live as an ordinary girl, wearing simple clothes, eating plain food, without fine dresses or jewelry, without admiring or deferential gazes, without a grand, luxurious house… but she’d live simply, seeing Shaya’s honest smile and listening to his blustering voice. And, in time, he’d surely discover her true identity as a woman—then, in the future…

At this thought, her cheeks burned again. Covering her face, she felt a strange, indescribable sweetness growing within her.

“Hey, Wretch, you can read and write—teach me someday,” Shaya said, his eyes shining mischievously. “The old man never taught me much. You can teach me more, and that Magick tongue, too. With all the loot we got from the dead mage, there’s bound to be valuable stuff, maybe even that magic tome has hidden secrets…”

The Wretch couldn’t help but laugh—so, as expected, he wanted her to stay for his own advantage.

But already familiar with his nature, she didn’t mind.

“Actually, we could start a performing troupe,” Shaya continued, growing more excited. “Every winter, when the beasts hibernate, there’s no hunting for three months. We could put on shows in Wildfire Town to make money! You’re so ugly, you’d make a perfect clown! And me—I could do feats of strength, break stones on my chest, roll on nail boards! With dragon’s blood, I’m invulnerable! Easy stuff! And you, magician, you could do your act as well.”

Dodoro, who had been silent, bristled at this. A magician? He, Dodoro, was a true, honest-to-goodness mage! A mage!

But, knowing his place under Shaya’s roof, Dodoro forced a smile. “Yes, yes, I’ll do my best!”

The Wretch listened, her heart longing…

Could she really stay in Wildfire Town, cast off her burdensome, noble past, cease to be a noblewoman, and just be an ordinary girl? To have Shaya’s strong shoulders to rely on, his chest to protect her, whether cooking and mending at home or playing the clown in their troupe…

Such a simple, carefree life seemed…

Seemed…

Why was it that just imagining it made her feel so happy?

※※※

Lost in thought, she didn’t know when she drifted off to sleep. In her dreams, she wandered with Shaya through Wildfire Town, living together in a small house with a yard, a warm fireplace, thick furs on the floor…

As dawn approached, a faint smile lingered on her lips. She rolled over, when suddenly pain stung her cheek.

A hand slapped her lightly twice, and through the haze of sleep, she heard Shaya’s deep voice: “Hey, wake up! Wake up!”

She opened her eyes to find herself lying next to Shaya, whose face was dark and grim.

The sky was just barely light. Why was the bumpkin waking her so early?

She sat up and looked around—her heart instantly turned to ice.

All around, in the dim morning light, more than twenty mounted soldiers had surrounded their tiny camp. A few knights had dismounted, weapons in hand, standing watch, while the rest sat astride their horses, arrows nocked, every muscle tense.

The nearest knights were barely ten paces away, swords gleaming coldly in the pale light.

Shaya stood by her side, chest out, holding his fire fork, his expression as cold as frost.

He’d already recognized them. Among those opposite, the leader was the very same knight he had dueled before.

Last time, he’d escaped before their men could gather. But now, there was no chance to repeat the trick. Their camp was tightly surrounded, and they had no horses…

“Drop your weapon,” the knight commander rasped, his face cold. “Then come here—alone!”