The village was still miles away, and my legs felt like they were made of lead. Every step was a battle against the "Feedback" burning in my chest.
"Leo, you're swaying again," Liora whispered, reaching out to steady me. Her small face was tight with worry.
"I'm fine," I lied, though my vision was flickering like a broken lightbulb. "Just... keeping the beat."
Suddenly, the sound of hooves and wooden wheels echoed through the trees. I froze, my hand instinctively moving toward my empty belt. Was it the Inquisition? Another Bell-Ringer?
A simple, mud-covered merchant wagon rounded the bend. It wasn't a sleek Ducal carriage or a cursed black box. It was pulled by two tired-looking brown horses, and an old man with a bushy white beard sat at the reins.
He pulled the horses to a stop, his eyes widening as he saw us.
"Bless my soul!" the old man called out, his voice warm and gravelly.
"What are two children doing out here in the deep woods? You look like you've been through a war!"
I stepped in front of Liora, my eyes narrowed. "Just traveling, old man. We don't want any trouble."
The old man laughed, a kind sound that didn't have any hidden bells or magic in it.
"Trouble? The only trouble I have is a squeaky wheel and a hunger for stew. I'm Garen. I'm heading south toward the crossroads. You two look half-dead. Come, get in. I have plenty of room and some warm blankets."
I hesitated. My gamer brain screamed TRAP, but my dying body screamed REST. I looked at Liora. She looked exhausted.
"Is it free?" I asked, being cautious.
Garen smiled, crinkling the skin around his eyes.
"For two brave little travelers? Of course. It's a lonely road, and I'd appreciate the company."
Inside the Wagon
As we climbed into the back, I realized we weren't alone. Two other passengers were huddled under blankets: a young man with a bandaged arm and an elderly woman clutching a
basket of apples.
"Welcome," the young man said with a tired nod.
"Name's Marek. This is Mrs. Gable. We're just trying to get away from the border troubles."
I sat down heavily, the soft straw of the wagon floor feeling like a luxury bed. Liora sat close to me, her eyes darting around the interior.
"You kids from the village nearby?" Mrs. Gable asked, offering a small, wrinkled apple to Liora.
Liora looked at me. I gave her a small nod. She took the apple with a shy,
"Thank you, Ma'am."
"We're looking for the old clinic," I said, trying to sound casual.
"My... grandfather used to live there."
"The clinic?" Marek raised an eyebrow.
"That place has been empty since the mages moved in near the capital. Folks say it's haunted now. Though, in this world, 'haunted' usually just means the tax collectors haven't found it yet."
Garen's voice drifted back from the driver's seat.
"Don't scare the little ones, Marek! It's just a quiet village. Though, I did see some riders in silver armor heading that way yesterday. Looked like Church men."
My heart did a somber somersault. The Inquisition was already there.
"Silver armor?" I asked, my voice steady despite the panic.
"Were they staying long?"
"Hard to say," Garen replied.
"They seemed to be searching for something. But don't you worry. Old Garen knows the back paths. I can drop you off right at the edge of the woods, far from the main gate."
A Moment of Peace
For the next hour, the wagon rattled along. The dialogue between the passengers was simple and real—
Marek complained about the price of grain, and Mrs. Gable talked about her grandchildren.
For a moment, I forgot I was a "Player" in a dying world. I was just Leo, a tired boy sitting in the hay.
Liora leaned her head against my shoulder. The apple was halfway eaten in her hand.
"Leo," she whispered so only I could hear. "They're just... normal people."
"Yeah," I whispered back.
"That's why we're doing this, Liora. So people like Garen and Marek don't have to worry about anything, they don't know how lucky they are in this peaceful moment..." I said, ...though I'm a bit envious of them.
Liora looked at Garen's back, then at me.
"You're a weird 'peasant,' you know that?"
"I get that a lot," I smirked.
The wagon hit a bump, and Garen called out,
"Steady there, girls! Almost at the village boundary!"
I gripped the Iron Key in my pocket. The peace was nice, but the real test was about to begin. The Inquisition was at the village, and I was running out of time.
Next Objective: Enter the village, avoid the Silver Knights, and find the clinic floorboards.
I leaned forward, my chest tightening as the wooden gates of the village appeared in the distance. Two guards in silver-trimmed tunics stood by the entrance, checking every traveler.
"Garen," I whispered, sliding toward the front of the wagon.
"I need a favor. Those men at the gate... they're looking for us."
The old man didn't look back, but his hands tightened on the reins.
"I figured you weren't out here for a stroll, lad. What do you need?"
"We need to get past them without being seen. If you can cause a scene—anything to pull their eyes away—we can slip into the shadows."
Garen let out a short, quiet laugh.
"A scene? Lad, you're talking to a man who once got kicked out of a Ducal wedding for 'accidental' pyrotechnics. Sit tight."
The Scene at the Gate
As the wagon rolled up to the guards, Garen didn't slow down. Instead, he started shouting at his horses.
"WHOA! Easy, you crazy beasts! The wheel! The axle is snapping!"
Garen suddenly yanked the reins. One of the horses let out a loud whinny, and Garen "accidentally" kicked over a large crate of apples he had sitting on the seat. Hundreds of red apples spilled across the road, rolling right under the guards' feet.
"MY APPLES! MY LIVELIHOOD!" Garen screamed, jumping off the driver's seat and flailing his arms.
"You guards! Help me! My wheel is locked! I'm blocking the whole road! Oh, the tragedy!"
The two guards cursed as they tried to avoid tripping on the fruit. "Move this junk, old man! You're blocking the entrance!"
"I can't! It's too heavy!" Garen wailed, grabbing one of the guards by the cloak.
"Please, sir! My back! It's gone!"
The Slip
"Now," I hissed to Liora.
We didn't wait. While the guards were busy arguing with a crying, dramatic Garen, we rolled out of the back of the wagon. We stayed low, using the thick clouds of dust kicked up by the horses as cover.
We scrambled behind a stack of hay bales near a blacksmith's shop. My heart was thumping against my ribs like a trapped drum.
I looked back and saw Garen giving us a very quick, very subtle wink before going back to sobbing over his "broken" axle.
"He's a better actor than most heroes," Liora whispered, her face pale but her eyes sharp.
"Come on," I said, staying low.
"The clinic is two streets over. We have to be fast."
The Abandoned Village
The village felt wrong. Many houses were boarded up, and the usual smell of baking bread was replaced by the sharp, metallic scent of Purification Incense. The Church was definitely here.
We moved through the back alleys, stepping over puddles of stagnant water. Every time I heard the clank of armor, we pressed ourselves against the cold stone walls.
"There," I pointed.
At the end of a narrow path stood a small, two-story building with a faded sign of a mortar and pestle. The windows were cracked, and a heavy iron lock sat on the front door. Elian's Clinic.
But as we approached, I stopped. There was a fresh boot print in the mud right in front of the steps.
"Someone is already inside," I whispered, my hand reaching for a piece of sharpened wood I'd picked up.
Liora's hands began to glow with a faint, nervous silver light.
"Do we go in?"
"We have to," I said, my voice cold.
"I didn't survive a Grief Weaver to be stopped by a lock."
I pulled the Iron Key from my pocket. It didn't fit the front door lock—Elian had said the "Special" entrance was in the back, under the cellar hatch.
"Follow me. Stay quiet."
We crept to the back of the building. I found the wooden hatch buried under a pile of dead vines. I slid the Iron Key into the hidden slot.
Click.
The hatch creaked open, revealing a dark, stone staircase that smelled like old herbs and something sweet... something like the Soul Exception.
"Leo," Liora whispered, looking into the darkness.
"I feel a lot of mana down there. It's... unstable."
"That might be the prototype," I muttered, stepping into the dark.
"Let's go find it before whoever is upstairs finds us."