Colin and Elara were gathering the bodies of their fallen friends, a task that was as somber as it was sorrowful.
The cave was scarred by the wreckage of the fight, and the pain of loss weighed heavily on the cleric as Colin carried the bodies with the respect they deserved.
Each member of the company had a designated place in the carriage, as a last tribute to those who would no longer share the future journeys.
The bandits' heads were laid out somewhere in a dark sack. The gold obtained from their loot was stored in the carriage, glittering in the faint light of dusk.
They covered the cargo with a dark tarpaulin, a veil that hid not only the material value, but also the emotional burden of that brutal day.
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The return was silent, marked by the heavy sorrow that hung over them like a shadow.
Elara, still devastated by her brother's death, rode in silence, the rhythmic clopping of the horse's hooves echoing along the deserted road.
His absence left a palpable void—an open wound that time might never fully heal.
The horizon stretched endlessly before them, and the weight of grief blended with the uncertainty of where to go next.
As soon as they arrived at the inn, Colin dismounted.
"Go talk to Safira. She must be worried upstairs."
"And you…" Her voice trembled with pain. "What are you going to do?"
"Hide all this money, collect the bounty on the heads, and bury the bodies. Stay inside. I'll be up soon."
"Colin… My brother liked the mountains, so…"
"Don't worry. I'll bury him in a beautiful place."
"Thank you… truly…"
With a gentlemanly gesture, Colin helped her down, holding her hand. She climbed the stairs, but every time she blinked, images of her brother and their friends flashed before her eyes.
As she pushed open the door, the warm scent of roasted meat filled her senses. Her eyes instinctively focused on the kitchen, visible through the doorway.
"Miss Elara!" Safira called out cheerfully, wearing an apron. She stood on a stool, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon. "I didn't know when you'd be back, so I decided to start dinner early."
She glanced toward the door.
"Where are the others?"
Elara tried to hold back her tears—but failed.
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The iron shovel dug into the earth, while the gentle breeze ruffled Colin's hair. He was at the top of a hill where he could see an extensive green valley, which seemed to murmur as the wind passed through the leaves, making them rustle.
As soon as he stopped, he saw the three holes he had made.
He threw the shovel aside and climbed into the carriage, picking up Darian's body, then Kaldor's and then Bastiat's, which were on a dark tarpaulin, throwing them into the grave without much care.
As soon as he had finished, he covered up the hole and made a makeshift cross out of twigs and strips of leather. He thought about leaving their weapons there, but they could be worth a lot of money.
That done, it was time to sell the heads and collect the reward.
He returned to the village and, with the heads in his sack, threw it on his back and walked to the inn he had asked to serve him.
As soon as he passed through the door, the people stared at him, their clothes stained with dried blood.
Colin leaned the blood-dripping bag on the counter.
"I killed the bandits in the cave, I want my reward and the strongest wine you have."
In silence, the tavern watched him.
The tavern keeper opened the bag and then closed it. The smell was unbearable. "Right… wait here."
He moved the bag to the back and returned with a bag of coins, setting it on the counter.
"The 100 gold coins, it's all there."
Colin put the coins inside his cloak, and the tavern keeper propped the bottle on the counter. When he was about to take a glass, Colin turned it down with a gesture, sipping the wine through the spout.
After the first few sips, he sighed.
"What happened to your group?" asked the tavern keeper as he cleaned a glass.
"Most of them died."
The people, hearing that, swallowed.
"The leader of the bandits… rumor had it that he was an experienced magic user…"
"You were paying for the job and I did it, stop stuffing me."
Picking up the bottle, Colin left the tavern, walking back to the inn. He finished his drink before going into his room, and as soon as he entered, he saw Elara lying on Safira's lap. Her face was red from crying.
Safira was also upset, but she was glad to see that he was okay.
As soon as he had passed her, Colin ruffled her hair and headed for his room. He took off his cape, shirt, and shoes and threw himself on the bed.
He slept like a little baby.
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The next morning, Colin woke up and went straight to the kitchen. Safira and Elara were sitting at the table, drinking coffee.
"I thought I'd sleep for days," Elara said, forcing a smile.
"Did you sleep well?" Colin asked, taking a seat.
Safira immediately served him, filling his cup.
"I hid the bandits' chest. There's enough money to buy three farms, maybe more. What are you going to do with your share?"
Elara wrapped her hands around her cup, her gaze drifting away.
"I came here because Bastiat and the boys wanted to go to Ultan University… That dream was always more theirs than mine, to be honest. And now… I feel lost, aimless. I think I'll go back home… With the money, I can help my mother and the village…"
"I see. After breakfast, we'll go to the chest, and you can take your share."
"And you… Are you staying here?"
Colin nodded, taking a bite of his bread.
"I'm going to buy equipment—armor, weapons—take on smaller missions, and collect even more money."
"I can help you if you want…"
Colin waved his hand dismissively.
"It's fine. You've just been through a trauma. Maybe you should rest—think about something other than heading out on another mission to kill more monsters or bandits."
She furrowed her brows slightly before nodding.
"Thank you…"
"You don't have to thank me every minute." Colin stood up. "I'm going to train for a while. You two can stay here and rest."
"Okay…"
He changed into some of Kaldor's clothes—since he wouldn't be needing them anymore.
Throwing a dark cloak over his shoulders, he stepped out of the inn, his silhouette blending into the twilight that stretched long shadows across the village's narrow streets.
His expression remained calm as he took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his resolve. He needed to become stronger—stronger than just an ordinary human.
As he headed toward the forest stretching beyond the village, Colin's thoughts whispered through his mind. He knew the journey ahead would be arduous and dangerous—if he wanted to survive, he needed to transcend ordinary limits.
Upon entering the dense woodland, he felt the dampness and darkness wrapping around him, as if nature itself was about to test him.
"Good. I just need to stay calm and let them come."
Armed with nothing but a sharp dagger, he sought out the wild creatures lurking in the shadows of the forest.
The sound of branches snapping beneath his feet echoed through the silence, but Colin pressed on, guided by a determination that burned like an ember in his chest.
"They can't be that far away."
His breath mingled with the cool night air as his gaze locked onto an imposing bear—its thick coat marred by battle scars.
"I found you!"
The beast's eyes flickered with a mixture of curiosity and ferocity. It was a worthy challenge.
The dagger in Colin's grip gleamed under the timid moonlight filtering through the canopy. He steadied himself as the bear let out a deep, reverberating roar—a primal challenge to the intruder who had dared to trespass into its domain.
"Come on!"
The beast's roar made the very leaves tremble, as if they feared what was to come.
Colin didn't hesitate. His mind was as sharp as his blade, his senses honed.
The bear charged first, massive claws slicing through the air with the raw power of a predator that had long ruled these lands. Colin leaped backward, narrowly dodging, feeling the cutting wind of the attack graze his chest. Without wasting a second, he spun on his heel and slipped to the side, searching for an opening to strike.
The beast turned with surprising agility for its size and lunged at him again.
Colin ducked beneath the blow, and in that fleeting moment, his dagger caught the moonlight. With a swift, precise movement, he drove the blade deep into the bear's side, just beneath the ribs.
A deafening roar of pain erupted from the creature as it staggered back.
But it wasn't finished.
The bear reared up on its hind legs, towering like a wall of muscle and fury, before crashing down with both claws in a devastating attack.
Colin rolled to the side, feeling the earth tremble with the force of the bear's attack. He knew that a single direct hit would mean his end.
Recovering from the dodge, he advanced swiftly, his dagger slicing through the creature's thick hide in quick, precise cuts—but the beast was resilient.
It turned sharply, slamming into him with its shoulder. Colin was hurled to the ground, the impact forcing the air from his lungs.
The bear lunged to finish him off.
Colin propelled himself backward, using his arms to push off the ground. As the beast snapped its jaws at him, he twisted sideways and drove his dagger into its neck.
This time, the strike was lethal.
The blade plunged deep, severing veins and muscle. Hot blood gushed out, running down the weapon and staining Colin's fingers. The bear staggered, trying to roar, but its own blood choked the sound.
Its legs trembled before it finally collapsed, its massive body convulsing in spasms before growing still.
Colin stood motionless, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, muscles taut with adrenaline. The dagger still pulsed in his grip, as if absorbing the fury of battle.
He glanced down at the beast's corpse, the scent of blood and damp earth thick in the air.
"It's…" he exhaled. "I'm definitely not an ordinary human anymore. I should get going."
Before he could leave the forest, a low growl echoed nearby.
Huge wolves emerged from the darkness, circling him.
Colin smirked.
"All right… I've still got the energy to finish you off."
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"Only a few more days to go," muttered the cultist, the greenish light pulsing from his companion seated within a magic circle. "Then we'll finally get out of this hole."
His companion approached, standing beside him.
"Do you think that'll be enough? What grade of creature are we summoning?"
"Nine."
His companion grunted.
"There are a bunch of maniacs in the village below. A level nine creature won't be enough."
"What are you so worried about? Most of them barely know how to use magic—it'll be a massacre."
"Okay, but then what? Is everyone blessed?"
"Those were Braz'gallan's words."
"Yeah, yeah… This better work."