The morning sun filtered gently through the gaps in the leaves, casting a soft glow on the rocky dirt road where the small party traveled. Fresh air and the scent of morning dew wrapped around them as they moved. Fael and Ravyn sat at the back of the wagon, quietly enjoying the calming forest breeze. Up front, Miza and Guillard took turns holding the reins, guiding the wagon through the increasingly uneven path.
But not everyone shared the peace of the morning.
Inside the wagon, Zeo was fast asleep, leaning against the wooden wall with his head slightly bowed. His black hair was messy, and signs of exhaustion were written all over his face. He had stayed up all night, guarding the perimeter while the others rested. Several beasts had approached during the night, but he had silently fended them off without waking anyone. That's why, this morning, he appeared so calm… and thoroughly drained.
Meanwhile, Alice sat by the window, her gaze turned outward. Her eyes were soft as she watched the gentle flow of a nearby stream. The breeze played with her hair. Opposite her, Erik stole glances in her direction, fists clenching and relaxing over and over. He looked like he wanted to speak, but held back every time.
Why do you feel so far away now, Alice? he thought, silently.
As the wagon entered deeper into the forest, the atmosphere shifted. Tall trees formed a natural tunnel overhead, dimming the sunlight. Beast corpses lined the side of the path, creating a more serious mood.
"This must be the work of those three from last night," Miza said quietly.
"Those three…?" Guillard replied, scanning the area. "They must've cleared the path ahead of us."
Miza nodded. "Well, I feel safer, even if this forest still doesn't compare to the one I used to live in."
Then, the quiet was suddenly shattered.
A swirl of red-orange flame burst out from inside the wagon, shooting into the air. The flame formed a humanoid silhouette floating midair—a fiery figure with a glowing presence. It was Kozmo, showing his true form: a fire djinn of the Ifrit race. Heat rippled in waves, lighting up the forest sky.
"W-What was that?!" Guillard shouted, instinctively pulling the reins tight.
Miza jumped down, readying himself. Fael had already reached for his dagger. Even Erik stood alert, eyes wide.
But Alice quickly stepped forward, raising a hand to stop Fael and pointing skyward. "Wait. That's… Kozmo. He's one of Mister Zeo's subordinates."
Ravyn nodded in agreement.
All eyes locked onto the floating figure above. After Alice's explanation, their tension eased slightly, though their stares remained cautious.
Fael frowned. "Master Zeo has… subordinates like that?"
"That's an Ifrit," Miza muttered, disbelief in her voice. "Maybe… being Master Zeo's slave isn't so bad after all. He even tamed that temperamental race?"
Erik gritted his teeth, his eyes fixed on the sky. A fire of jealousy kindled in his chest.
An Ifrit? Even a creature that powerful obeys him?
Then his eyes flicked toward Alice.
Alice… is this why you admire him? Is this the reason you smile at him the way you used to smile at me?
His hand clenched tightly at his side.
From Erik's perspective, it looked like Alice was following Kozmo with her gaze, then turned to Zeo and smiled gently. In reality, Alice had only glanced at Zeo out of surprise—Kozmo had suddenly transformed without warning, catching her off guard.
Erik looked away, struggling to hide the weight in his chest.
Just wait, Zeo. You won't be seeing Alice much longer. Soon, she'll be looking at me—not you.
Kozmo transformed into flame and flew higher above the forest.
"I will scout ahead," he said.
Then he darted forward, vanishing into the canopy.
The wagon rolled onward, leaving beast carcasses in its wake. The forest deepened… but so did the emotions within the group.
Unseen and unspoken, a small fire had begun to smolder—one of rivalry, aching hearts, and unseen wounds.
Hours passed. The sun had climbed higher, nearing midday. They had covered about a third of the forest so far. There were few disturbances, aside from rough terrain and the occasional beast, which were easily handled by Guillard or Miza with nothing more than a flare of aura.
Even so, the forest's thick atmosphere weighed on them. Towering trees created a leafy canopy that allowed only slivers of sunlight through. Massive roots twisted across the ground, creating natural obstacles and forcing the wagon to slow.
Eventually, they reached a flat clearing, sheltered and wide enough to rest. The horses were visibly tired, breathing heavily, their flanks soaked in sweat.
Everyone disembarked. Fael and Guillard checked the wheels and the path ahead. Ravyn fetched water from a nearby stream, while Miza lit a fire to cook. Alice sat on a large stone, gazing thoughtfully at the damp green underbrush. The breeze carried the scent of moss and dew.
Zeo still slept inside the wagon, slumped against the window with messy hair partly covering his face. The dark circles under his eyes told the story of his sleepless night.
Erik glanced at him from afar, his expression sharp and calculating. Silently, he reached for the small pouch at his waist. With a smooth motion, he unzipped it and drew out a tiny glass vial—inside was a fine greenish powder.
His gaze narrowed like a predator watching its prey. Erik wasn't a potion-maker, but as a porter—someone who dealt with adventurers' tools—he had learned a great deal, including the effects of various powders and weapons. He knew this powder well: a paralyzing agent, capable of rendering someone unconscious for hours. When ingested, the effects would start from within—making it incredibly hard to detect or neutralize, even for high-ranked adventurers.
Perfect. Most of them here are probably just Rank B or C, he thought.
He eyed the wagon with a crooked smile.
As the others busied themselves with setting up the break area and preparing food, Erik casually approached the cooking pot. He helped Miza and Ravyn, smiling cheerfully—something he hadn't done before during the trip. Miza raised an eyebrow but assumed it was just him trying to be nice.
Then, in a single unnoticed moment, Erik sprinkled a pinch of the powder into the simmering soup. It dissolved instantly—no scent, no color, no trace.
In just a few minutes… they'll feel heavy and sleepy. Let's hope this works, he thought, holding back a satisfied smirk.
Not long after, Zeo stirred awake. He yawned and stretched, finally stepping out of the wagon. His hair was wild, but his intimidating aura was as sharp as ever.
"Is it already noon?" he muttered.
Ravyn turned to him. "It's lunchtime, Master. Come eat—we'll move on after this."
Zeo nodded, but his eyes immediately landed on Erik, who approached with a bowl of soup.
"This… is for you, Sir Zeo," Erik said, a bit nervously. "I helped cook today. Think of it as thanks for letting me tag along."
Zeo narrowed his eyes. Something felt off—perhaps the instinct of someone long accustomed to betrayal. His stare was sharp, piercing. Erik nearly choked on his breath under it.
But instead of saying anything, Zeo simply replied in a flat tone, "You've already paid. So it's only right you're accommodated. But… thank you."
He took the bowl and began sipping the soup. Erik held his breath, watching every movement as though witnessing the final act of a performance.
Yes… eat it all… you'll feel it soon enough, he thought, content.
A few minutes passed. Everyone sat down to eat, sharing light chatter and soft laughter. But inside Erik… a storm of dark plans had already begun to churn.