Vel settled back against the cushioned seat, watching the evening landscape roll past through the small window. The familiar buildings and settlements of Elnor's territory had long since disappeared, replaced by endless stretches of meadow punctuated by clusters of trees and weathered stone outcroppings. Darkness crept across the horizon, swallowing the distant hills until only the immediate roadside remained visible in the lamp's flickering glow.
The gentle swaying of the stagecoach and the rhythmic creaking of wooden wheels should have been soothing, but instead, an uncomfortable chill settled in Vel's stomach. This wasn't Elnor anymore. They were traveling through the borderlands now, far from any protection. The very reason Mora accompanied them as escort drove that point home with crystalline clarity.
His gaze drifted to the brass lamp dangling from the carriage ceiling, its flame dancing behind glass panels. The isolation pressed against him like a weight. Beyond these decorated walls lurked unknown dangers, emphasized by the growing chorus of night insects and the steady crush of wheels against packed earth. No guards patrolled these roads. No warm lights beckoned from nearby windows.
Memories surfaced unbidden – not his own, but Giri's from what felt like lifetimes ago. Countless RPG games, endless anime episodes. Stagecoach journeys like this were perfect setups for bandit raids. Classic, predictable, thoroughly clichéd.
Please, he thought, directing his silent plea to whatever gods might be listening. Not this. Anything but the most overused trope in fantasy travel. I spent years in meetings stopping writers from using this exact scenario.
Surely the world he'd helped create wouldn't throw such tired storytelling at him. Let this journey be wonderfully, blissfully uneventful.
The stagecoach lurched to an abrupt stop.
Oh no.
Vel pushed his face toward the front window, concern etched across his features.
"Driver, why have we stopped?"
"There's something ahead, sir," came the driver's hesitant reply. "You might want to see this."
Vel glanced back at Celia and Hileya, giving them a quick nod. "Stay alert. I'll check what's happening."
Both girls exchanged worried looks but nodded in acknowledgment as Vel stepped outside, his hand instinctively moving closer to his dagger. The cool evening air hit his face as his boots crunched against the gravel road.
What greeted him made his stomach turn. Not bandits, as he'd feared, but perhaps something worse. A merchant caravan lay in ruins before them, splintered wood scattered across the roadway. Goods were strewn everywhere—fabrics, pottery shards, and broken crates. No people in sight. Not a single survivor. Beside the wreckage lay a dead horse, its body torn and mutilated.
"Poor guy," Vel whispered, taking in the grisly scene.
"Damn." Mora let out a harsh curse behind him, her experienced eyes scanning the destruction with practiced efficiency.
"What happened here?" Vel turned to her, noting how her hand had already drawn her crossbow.
Mora crouched near some deep gouges in the earth, examining them with narrow eyes. "There have been rumors passing around the Guild lately. Attacks like this..." She traced the massive claw marks. "This is the work of a Ravager Behemoth, but this one is... Voidtainted."
"Voidtainted?" Vel repeated the unfamiliar term.
"It's what adventurers have been calling them lately. Something's been changing these monsters—making them more aggressive, more evolved." She stood up, her expression grim. "More dangerous."
Vel knew the name well enough from his game knowledge. Ravager Behemoths were massive, bear-like creatures with armored hides and lethal claws. Territorial, yes, but they typically didn't attack unless provoked.
"They don't just attack caravans unprompted," he murmured, almost to himself.
"Not normally, no." Mora's eyes continued scanning the tree line. "But these Voidtainted ones are different. They hunt. They seek."
The void. That word sent a chill down Vel's spine. The same dark force that had almost consumed Landre, that had almost taken his sister away from him. If it was corrupting creatures now, spreading beyond isolated incidents...
Mora traced her finger along a set of footprints leading away from the road. "Some of them escaped," she said, pointing at the hasty trail disappearing into the treeline. "Heading east, toward that ridge. Four, maybe five people."
Vel followed her gaze, squinting at the darkening forest. Those people could be injured, desperate for help—perhaps hiding somewhere waiting for rescue.
"Should we look for them?" Vel asked, taking a step toward the forest. "They might be wounded somewhere nearby."
The driver cleared his throat nervously. "We still have daylight, but not much, young master. Finding tracks in the dark..."
Mora nodded in agreement, her lips pressed into a thin line. "It's already getting dark," she said, glancing at the sky where twilight was rapidly giving way to night. "We could... delay our trip until safer time."
Vel considered this, weighing the urgency against safety. The Academy entrance would begin in three days. Any delay might jeopardize their arrival.
"Stopping here would invite more troubles," Hileya said softly from behind them. She had stepped out of the coach, her half-elven eyes scanning the surroundings with visible unease. "It's too open."
Celia joined them, her hand still resting on her rapier's hilt. "But it's the main road between Elnor and Everfront," she argued. "Surely more will pass this way. Another caravan, or perhaps the town guard making their rounds?"
Vel looked between his companions, feeling the pressure of decision weigh on his shoulders. Help the survivors now and risk their safety, or continue their journey and hope someone else would come along? Neither choice felt right.
Vel closed his eyes briefly, centering himself as the weight of the decision settled on his shoulders. The familiar pressure of leadership—one he'd known well as Giri—washed over him. How many times had he made critical decisions for his development team, navigating tight deadlines and impossible demands?
If only a quest notification would pop up with clear objectives and rewards. But this wasn't a game with convenient UI elements guiding his choices—it was life with real consequences.
"Alright," Vel said, opening his eyes with new resolve. "Let me think this through."
He mentally cataloged the factors at play. Daylight was fading rapidly, giving them perhaps an hour of usable visibility at most. The tracks were fresh—half a day old according to Mora—which meant survivors might still be alive, possibly injured. But whatever attacked was clearly dangerous, with claws and enough strength to overturn wagons and kill armed guards.
Their own situation wasn't ideal either. The stagecoach offered little protection if ambushed. Their party consisted of himself, Celia with her rapier skills, Mora with her crossbow, Hileya with no combat ability, and their driver. Not exactly a raid party equipped for monster hunting.
Then there was time—three days until the Academy entrance examinations. Any significant delay could jeopardize everything they'd worked toward.
"We can't stay here," Vel decided, pointing to the darkening sky. "Night's coming fast, and whatever did this could return. The survivors have at least a half-day head start toward that ridge."
He turned to Mora. "How far to the next waystation or settlement?"
"About two hours at normal pace," Mora replied. "There's an outpost with a small garrison."
Vel nodded. "Then we push forward—quickly. We alert the garrison about survivors and this attack. They're equipped to mount a proper search party with torches and numbers."
He glanced at the scattered goods. "We should take anything useful—medical supplies especially. If we encounter survivors on the road, we'll help them, but our priority is reaching that outpost before full dark."
Vel swept his gaze across the scattered merchandise, mentally cataloging what might prove useful. Time was critical—both for any survivors and for their own safety as daylight faded.
"We'll take only what's essential," Vel said, already moving toward the overturned wagon. "Medical supplies, preserved food, anything that might help survivors we encounter on the way."
He found a small wooden box with herb pouches and bandages, tucking it under his arm. Mora discovered a water skin that hadn't been punctured, while Celia gathered a bundle of dried rations from a broken crate.
"Our stagecoach doesn't have space for much," the driver reminded them, nervously eyeing the darkening forest edge.
Hileya stayed close to Vel, her movements hesitant yet purposeful as she collected a few blankets from the wreckage. The half-elf's presence amplified Vel's concerns. She had no combat training, no magic—nothing to protect herself if danger struck. Even Celia, despite her growing skill with a rapier, might be overwhelmed by whatever had savaged this caravan.
Vel couldn't guarantee their safety if confronted by something they couldn't handle. The thought of failing to protect them—especially Hileya, who had been thrust into this journey through Lady Halen's machinations—settled like a cold stone in his stomach.
"That should be enough," Vel announced, surveying their modest collection of salvaged goods. "Let's move—quickly."
They loaded their findings into the stagecoach and resumed their positions. The driver snapped the reins with newfound urgency, and the horses responded, pulling them forward at a brisk pace.
"We'll reach the outpost and alert the guards," Mora said, her experienced eyes constantly scanning the road ahead.
Vel nodded, but guilt nagged at him as they rolled past the wreckage. Somewhere in those woods, survivors might be hiding, injured and terrified. He pushed the thought away—their small group charging blindly into the forest at dusk would likely only add to the casualties.
"We'll camp at the outpost tonight," Vel said, more to reassure himself than inform the others. "It's the most practical solution."
As the stagecoach picked up speed, Vel took one last look at the abandoned caravan fading into the twilight behind them. The pragmatic decision settled heavily in his chest. It wasn't heroic, but it was rational. Sometimes leadership wasn't about charging headlong into danger, but making the call that saved the most lives in the long run.
Darkness fell quickly, enveloping the stagecoach in a shroud of uncertainty. The rhythmic clatter of hooves against dirt became their only connection to the world outside. Warm amber light flooded the compartment, pushing back the darkness but making the windows seem even blacker by contrast.
To anyone watching, Vel appeared deep in thought, his gaze fixed on some distant point. But his mind was far from idle. Behind that contemplative expression, he was methodically sorting through his arsenal of magic and spells, mentally preparing for any situation that might arise. He visualized each spell's magic circle, rehearsed incantations, and estimated mana costs.
Ice Lance for direct combat. Far Sight if we need to scout ahead. Light Blessing for protection against dark creatures. He could change Ice Lance to Fireball if the circumstances demanded.
Celia watched him with a knowing expression, unsurprised by his focused demeanor. She'd witnessed this state of concentrated preparation many times during their training sessions. Her own hand occasionally drifted to her rapier, checking its position for a quick draw if needed.
Hileya, however, observed him with wide-eyed curiosity. This side of Vel—the tactician, the mage preparing for battle—was completely new to her. Her fingers fidgeted with the fabric of her dress as she glanced between Vel's intense expression and the darkness outside.
"Are you—" Hileya began to whisper.
The stagecoach suddenly slowed, wheels grinding against the dirt road. A stern voice cut through the night.
"Halt there! Everfront is that way, where are you going?"
The coach came to a complete stop. Through the window, Vel could make out the silhouette of a guard, torch in hand, pointing in the opposite direction.
"This area belongs to the military of the king," the guard continued, his voice firm and official. "State your business."
Vel tensed at the guard's sudden challenge, his mind racing through potential scenarios. Before he could respond, Mora speaked up.
"We need to report an incident and seek shelter for tonight," she called, her voice carrying the authoritative tone Vel had come to associate with her Guild status.
The guard stepped closer, holding his torch higher to illuminate their faces. His suspicious expression didn't waver.
"We're residents of Elnor, traveling under Lady Halen's authority," Mora continued. "We have two important persons onboard bound for Lona."
Vel leaned forward slightly, making his face visible in the torchlight. The guard's eyes widened slightly in recognition—not of Vel personally, but of someone who clearly wasn't a common traveler.
"What incident?" the guard asked, his tone softening slightly.
"A caravan was destroyed about two hours back on the main road," Mora explained, gesturing behind them. "Completely ravaged."
The guard signaled to someone beyond Vel's view, and a second guard appeared from the shadows.
"We believe it was a Ravager Behemoth," Mora continued, her voice dropping. "But it showed signs of being Voidtainted."
The two guards exchanged glances, and the second one stepped forward. "Voidtainted? You're certain?"
"I've been tracking reports for the Guild," Mora nodded grimly. "The claw patterns match other incidents. Deeper gouges, more aggressive attack pattern. The entire caravan was torn apart."
The first guard turned to his companion. "Fetch the sergeant."
While they waited, Vel observed the outpost. It was smaller than he'd expected—just a handful of wooden buildings surrounded by a modest palisade. Not exactly the fortress he'd hoped for, but better than spending the night on the open road.
A stocky woman with a sergeant's insignia emerged from the largest building, listened to the guards' report, then approached their coach.
"We can provide shelter for the night," she said after a brief discussion with Mora. "I'll send a rider to alert patrols about possible survivors, and we'll dispatch a proper search party at first light."
She gestured toward a building. "You can rest there. It's not fancy, but it's safe."
"Thank you, Sergeant," Vel said with genuine relief.
The sergeant led them to a flat area adjacent to the outpost's eastern wall. Despite the simplicity of their accommodations, Vel felt relief wash over him as they disembarked from the stagecoach. At least here, under the watchful eyes of the guards in the nearby watchtower, they could rest with some measure of security.
Their driver immediately attended to the horses, unhitching them and leading them to a small watering trough. Meanwhile, Mora and Celia unloaded their supplies from the trunk of the stagecoach, pulling out canvas and poles to erect a simple tent.
Hileya, without prompting, seemed to fall naturally into a supportive role. She gathered flat stones to create a fire ring, then arranged logs from the outpost's woodpile. Once the flames caught and crackled with warmth, she unfolded a small mat near the fire and gestured to Vel.
"Please sit here, Master Vel. It will be more comfortable," she said, her voice soft but purposeful. Before Vel could protest, she was already retrieving food from their provisions, arranging a modest meal on a clean cloth.
Vel watched her efficient movements with a mixture of appreciation and discomfort. The way she anticipated his needs bordered on servitude—another reminder of Lady Halen's expectations for their relationship.
As Hileya busied herself with preparations, Vel approached Mora, who was securing the tent's final stakes.
"What do you make of this attack?" Vel asked, keeping his voice low. "You mentioned Voidtainted creatures... is this something you've encountered before?"
Mora straightened, wiping her hands on her trousers. "Personally? No. The Guild has only started receiving reports in the last two months. This is the closest I've come to the aftermath."
She glanced toward the darkened forest beyond the palisade. "What I know comes from other adventurers' accounts. The attacks are more brutal, more... purposeful than normal monster behavior. As if something's driving them."
"The void," Vel murmured.
"That's what we're calling it," Mora nodded grimly. "But nobody knows for certain what's causing the change or how to stop it."
The night dragged on, the campsite settling into uneasy quiet. The driver dozed off on his seat atop the stagecoach, while Mora slept under the open sky nearby. The cold air didn't seem to bother her—perhaps she was accustomed to sleeping outdoors during her adventures.
Vel lay awake in his tent, listening to the occasional sounds of the guards changing shifts atop the palisade. He found comfort in their presence. If anything were to happen, they would alert the camp immediately.
He thought of Celia and Hileya sharing the other tent. Despite his exhaustion, sleep came fitfully. His mind kept returning to the destroyed caravan, the claw marks, and Mora's grim assessment.
A thunderous roar shattered the night's silence.
Vel bolted upright, instantly alert. That sound—unmistakably the bellowing challenge of a behemoth. The ground trembled beneath his bedroll as something massive approached. Heavy footfalls pounded the earth in a rhythm that grew louder with each passing second.
It had found a new target. The outpost.
Vel grabbed his dagger and burst from his tent, heart hammering in his chest. His first thought wasn't for himself but for Hileya and Celia.
He spotted them immediately. Hileya stood beside Celia, her eyes wide with fear yet her posture composed. Celia had already drawn her sword, the blade catching the moonlight as she assumed a defensive stance. Her training had kicked in without hesitation.
All around them, guards poured from barracks and posts, forming a defensive line along the palisade. They moved with practiced efficiency, readying bows and spears as they positioned themselves.
The sergeant stood behind the line, her voice cutting through the chaos as she barked orders. "Archers to the wall! Heavy shields forward! Light the signal fire!"
Mora positioned herself near the sergeant, her crossbow loaded and ready. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, scanning the treeline beyond the walls.
But Vel's mind was already racing through options, calculating whether his magic would be effective against a Voidtainted behemoth. The interface flickered at the edge of his vision, ready to display his spells at his command.
Vel's mind shifted into tactical mode as he assessed the situation. The outpost's defenses had clear strengths and weaknesses. The guards would serve as the front line with their shields and spears forming a barrier, but their standard-issue weapons might struggle against a Voidtainted creature.
"Celia!" Vel called, his voice cutting through the commotion. "Position yourself for flanking attacks when it breaches the wall. Don't engage directly—strike when it's distracted!"
Celia nodded, understanding immediately. Her agility and precision would make her ideal for quick strikes against the creature's vulnerable points.
Mora had already taken position on an elevated platform, her crossbow ready. Vel moved to join her, calculating the best position to unleash his magic without endangering the guards.
"I can provide ranged support with you," Vel told Mora as he climbed up beside her. "My spells should at least slow it down."
Mora gave him a quick, appraising glance. "Good. I didn't know you had magic, kid. Keep it focused on one spot—the Behemoth have armor that needs to be worn down."
The formation was taking shape—guards as the vanguard, Celia as the mobile attacker, with Vel and Mora providing ranged support from the rear. It seemed favorable, assuming the behemoth didn't have unexpected abilities.
Vel suddenly realized Hileya was still standing in the open, her half-elven eyes wide with terror but feet frozen in place.
"Hileya!" Vel shouted, gesturing urgently. "Get to safety now! Find shelter in the barracks and stay there until this is over!"
She hesitated for just a moment, then nodded, gathering her skirts and running toward the stone building where several non-combatants were already taking refuge.
"This is our first real fight," Celia called up to him, a mix of fear and excitement in her voice as she took her position.
Vel felt the same conflicted emotions—terror at facing a lethal enemy, yet a strange thrill at finally testing his skills in actual combat. Everything until now.