Chapter 3: The Road Beyond Petita
The old wooden cart had long disappeared behind them, swallowed by the quiet hum of village life. Fifteen minutes had passed since Fayrouz, the girl with long black hair and a blue blindfold, entered Petita Village. She moved through its modest marketplace with unhurried steps, her presence like a shadow slipping between the wooden stalls. The scent of ripe fruit and fresh bread still lingered in the air, though the morning rush had long since faded. Now, only a few vendors remained, tending to their goods under the waning heat of the midday sun.
Behind her, Fulan followed at a measured distance, his boots kicking up small puffs of dust with each step. The dirt road beneath him was uneven, worn smooth in places by years of passing carts and villagers. He stole a glance at Fayrouz's flowing hair, his thoughts turning inward.
What exactly is this situation? I look like I'm stalking her.
Yes, this was the shortest path to the village's eastern gate, but walking directly behind her felt… awkward. He considered taking a different route, maybe cutting through a side alley, but that would only waste time.
No, I'm doing the right thing. She probably doesn't even know I'm here because of that blindfold.
Just as that comforting thought settled, Fayrouz spoke without turning around.
"Your name is Fulan, right?"
Fulan sighed. So much for going unnoticed.
"It's not like I'm following you or anything," he said, his tone calm but slightly defensive.
Fayrouz tilted her head slightly, her voice carrying no trace of concern. "Why would you? Isn't this the shortest path to the gate?"
Her straightforwardness caught him off guard. Most people in her position might have assumed something questionable, but she seemed entirely unbothered.
"When I heard you call yourself a future knight," he said, "I assumed you were heading to Ragandarok Academy to take the entrance exam."
Fayrouz turned her head forward again. "Really? When I heard you were going to Ragandarok Academy, only one thing came to mind: you're definitely going to fail the entrance exam."
Fulan's black brow twitched. His expression remained neutral;
"And what makes you assume that?"
"The Menma flowing through your veins," she replied without hesitation. "It has no distinct color. This is the first time I've seen something like it. It's as if you have no unique trait."
Fulan glanced at his palm, flexing his fingers. To his eyes, his skin looked normal—just pale, nothing strange.
"I'm surprised you can see the particles of Menma," he said quietly. "I've heard only a handful of people in this world can do that. Are you from a noble clan or something?"
Fayrouz walked in silence for a few moments before responding. "I'm just a village girl. Do you think a noble girl would ride in that rickety cart without even having money to pay?"
Fulan let out a short chuckle. "Fair point."
The quiet returned between them, broken only by the soft crunch of their footsteps against the dry earth. The further they walked, the more the village faded behind them. The path leading to the eastern gate stretched ahead, flanked by a few wooden homes, their rooftops thatched with dried straw. In the distance, the faint sound of a blacksmith's hammer echoed through the air.
After ten minutes, they reached the village's other gate—the exit that led to the untamed roads beyond. Two guards stood at their post, their simple armor marked with the crest of the Kingdom of Saita. The sunlight gleamed off the dull iron of their spears, but their postures were relaxed, as if nothing much ever happened here.
Before Fulan and Fayrouz could pass through, one of the guards stepped forward, raising a hand. His tone was firm but not aggressive.
"Hold on. The road between Petita Village and Saikono Village isn't safe right now. It's better for you to turn back and take the main road to the Kingdom of Saita. That route is secure."
Fulan met the guard's gaze, his voice calm yet unwavering. "Going back and taking the main road will take us more than a full day. I don't have that kind of time."
The guard's expression hardened. "I'm speaking for your own good. There's a band of highway robbers controlling this road. We've been waiting for the knights to arrive for some time now. You can either wait here in the village or take the main road."
His words made it clear—their path ahead was blocked, at least as far as these guards were concerned. But neither Fulan nor Fayrouz had any intention of turning back.
Fayrouz spoke, her voice carrying a quiet confidence. "I'm a future knight. That's why I'll see what I can do about this problem myself."
The guards exchanged glances, their skepticism plain. One of them, slightly older than the other, let out a heavy sigh before speaking.
"A future knight?" His gaze swept over her. "All I see is a girl who looks about sixteen or seventeen. Letting you pass through this gate would be like sending you to your death."
His expression darkened slightly. "And you're a girl, after all. Your body would be like prey to those bandits. This guy"—he gestured to Fulan—"will suffer less because they'll just kill him. But you… well, you know what I mean."
For the first time in their conversation, an edge crept into his voice. It wasn't just concern—it was the grim reality of the world they lived in.
But before Fayrouz could reply, Fulan walked past the gate. He didn't spare the guard a glance, nor did he slow his pace. His silence spoke louder than words.
The guard's frustration flared. "Hey—!"
Fayrouz, unfazed, followed Fulan without hesitation, stepping through the gate as if the warning hadn't even been spoken.
The only sound left in their wake was the exasperated voice of the guard.
"I've done my duty and warned you! Seriously, why are young people so stubborn these days?"
.
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Chapter 4: The Ambush
The road connecting Petita Village to Saikono Village was eerily silent, as if the world itself had paused to hold its breath. The fields on either side were wild and untamed, a sea of green grass dotted with occasional bursts of flowers. There was no trace of human touch here—no fences, no plowed earth, just nature reclaiming its dominion. The sun hung high in the sky, its heat growing more oppressive with each passing second. It felt like the height of summer, though it was only November.
The only sounds were the distant calls of birds soaring above and the rhythmic crunch of footsteps on the dirt path. Fulan and Fayrouz walked side by side, beads of sweat forming on their brows. There was no water in sight, no refreshing breeze—just the relentless sun and the endless road ahead.
"Despite all the negatives," Fayrouz said, her voice calm and measured, "this road is perfect for getting robbed."
Fulan glanced at her, his lips twitching in amusement despite his growing thirst. "Wait, isn't getting robbed also a negative?"
Fayrouz tilted her head slightly, her blindfolded gaze seemingly fixed on the horizon. "What are you talking about? We came here specifically to get robbed."
"Maybe you're right, but there's no need to phrase it like that... Anyway, are there really bandits here? I don't see anyone."
Fayrouz fell silent, her steps steady for a few moments before she suddenly stopped. The air around her seemed to still as a serious expression settled on her lips. Beside her, Fulan hesitated, unsure why she had halted so abruptly. Her eyes remained hidden beneath the blue bandages, concealing whatever emotions might have flickered within. Then, in a low murmur, her voice barely above a whisper, she spoke:
"They're here..."
Fulan frowned, scanning the empty fields around them. He saw nothing—no movement, no shadows, no signs of life. The stillness was unnerving. "What do you mean? I don't see anyone."
Before Fayrouz could respond, nine figures materialized out of thin air, surrounding them in a tight circle.
Their appearance was nothing short of shocking. Colors, shifting like the iridescence of soap bubbles, flickered around their bodies before they emerged from nothingness—as if they were lizards gifted with the power of invisibility.
They wore dark cloaks that obscured their faces, their heads covered by hoods. Their sizes varied—some were tall and burly, others short and wiry—suggesting a mix of ages and builds. The air grew tense as the bandits closed in, their presence suffocating.
The first to speak was Fulan, his voice steady but laced with disbelief. "They appeared out of nowhere? How is that even possible?"
The bandits remained silent, their movements deliberate and unnervingly coordinated. Fayrouz, however, was unfazed. "Saying they appeared out of nowhere is incorrect," she said calmly. "They've been around us the entire time. I could sense their Menma."
Fulan turned to her, his brow furrowed. "You mean they were hiding? Is that even a thing in this world?"
Fayrouz's lips curved into a faint smile. "Perhaps you're the one who doesn't know much about this world. The ability to hide is a dull power, and its users are cowards 99.8% of the time."
The leader of the bandits, a tall man with a medium build, chuckled at her words. His face was mostly hidden, but his teeth gleamed in the sunlight as he spoke. "That's a bit harsh, but you seem well-informed. Still, this is the only way we can survive in this world. The nobles and the gifted will never understand the struggles of people like us."
Fulan remained silent, his eyes darting between the bandits as he assessed the situation. Fayrouz, however, wasn't done. "For nine people to possess the exact same ability?" she said, her tone cutting. "That's unthinkable. Such power cannot exist without a shared bloodline."
The leader listened quietly, but one of the bandits—a slender figure with a voice that sounded young—spoke up. "Big brother, this girl seems smart. She can track and sense Menma. Maybe we should try to recruit her instead of... you know."
All of them had their features concealed beneath their hoods, except for the leader. His fierce gaze cut through the shadow, and the way his teeth showed hinted at an unsettling confidence.
The leader nodded thoughtfully, his respect for his comrades evident. "You're right," he said, turning to Fayrouz. "You've got a sharp mind, and you sensed us despite that blindfold. Are you blind, or is that just a fashion statement? Either way, my little brother sees potential in you. How about this? Join us as the tenth member of our group, and we'll let your friend here walk safely to Saikono Village. Not a bad deal, don't you think?"
The silence that followed was heavy, the tension palpable as everyone waited for Fayrouz's response. But before she could utter a word, Fulan took a slow breath, his chest rising and falling in measured control. Then—he moved.
Whoosh!
In an instant, he surged forward, the ground beneath him barely disturbed by his step. A faint white aura clung to his body, subtle yet undeniable, like the last traces of moonlight before dawn. It flickered along his form, neither blinding nor overwhelming, but adding a sense of raw, untamed energy. His black hair swept back from his face, caught in the force of his momentum, strands whipping through the air as he closed the distance.
The leader had only begun to approach Fayrouz when the attack landed. A single, devastating punch struck his face, sinking into flesh and bone with a sickening crack. His nose collapsed under the force, blood bursting outward in a crimson spray. A loose tooth spun away, lost in the chaos of the impact.
The moment Fulan's fist connected, the impact was nothing short of brutal. The leader's body was sent hurtling backward, lifted clean off his feet as if struck by a charging beast. He soared through the air for several meters before crashing onto the ground with a heavy thud, rolling lifelessly until he came to a stop among his cloaked comrades. His limbs sprawled awkwardly, his chest barely rising—a crumpled form that, for all appearances, might as well have been a corpse.
The shock had barely settled in when Fulan moved again. His figure blurred, vanishing from where he stood. By the time the remaining bandits processed what had happened, he was already among them, striking like a storm.
The first fell to a sound-fast kick that snapped up beneath his chin. A sharp crack rang through the air as his head snapped back violently, his hood falling to reveal wide, unfocused eyes before his body slumped bonelessly to the ground.
Before the second could even flinch, Fulan pivoted, his movements fluid yet merciless. His leg shot out, striking the man's side just beneath the ribs. A muffled thud followed, air forced from his lungs as his body folded inward. He was lifted clear off the ground before crashing onto his back, gasping but too stunned to move.
The third barely had time to react before Fulan was upon him. Twisting in midair, he delivered a spinning kick to the side of the man's head. The impact sent him sprawling, his hood whipping away as his body crashed against the dirt with a dull thump. His limbs twitched briefly—then stilled.
His movements were precise, his strikes fueled by the white energy coursing through him.
But the victory was short-lived. The rest Five of the bandits managed to activate their cloaking abilities, vanishing from sight. Fulan's advantage was gone, and the battlefield became a deadly game of cat and mouse.
Fayrouz's eyes widened behind her blindfold as she observed Fulan's transformation. 'What is this? His Menma particles turned white? How is that even possible? I'm about to swear that his Menma particles were colorless.'
Fulan, meanwhile, was already calculating his next move. 'Five of them are still active. It's been four seconds since I held my breath. I can't dodge attacks from enemies I can't see. I have two options: rely on Fayrouz to track them, or start swinging blindly. Either way, I can't afford to lose here. I haven't even taken my first step toward Ragandarok yet!'
The real fight had just begun.
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