Hidden from the prying eyes, inside a great tent, Hal, the White-Star village leader, sat on a long-backed chair positioned near a circular table. The illumination was dim, allowing the shadows to partially hide his features.

  His white fingers stroked the wooden table rhythmically, creating a looping sound. Almost as if he observed mortal enemies, his blue eyes pierced through the darkness and carried great enmity toward those seated alongside him.

  To his right was a bald man who possessed a brute appearance. A dark beard and eyes complemented his hidden features; he was burly and large, and although he appeared fat, there was surprising muscle beneath it. That was Kiegan, the leader of the Black-Star village.

  Accompanying the two men was a younger woman, her body hidden by layered white-toned robes. Her face was jovial and full of underlying beauty. Her expression held a cold impudence; in a way, she seemed to be a noble of sorts.

  Hal glanced directly at her as he thought for a few seconds. His fingers reduced their motion before stopping, the sound being replaced by his voice.

  “Why isn’t Triss here?” Hal said arrogantly. “As far as I remember, we had agreed to meet before entering the dungeon.”

  Kiegan gulped down a mouthful of ale before putting the bottle down on the table. His voice was hoarse and old as he spoke after Hal.

  “I was thinking the same,” he paused. “Why is that woman not here with us? Instead, it is you?”

  The beautiful woman smiled briefly at them before saying in a suave voice, “You may call me Stella. As for why Lady Triss is not with us at the moment, she entered the dungeon before your arrival. According to her words, it was necessary to make the preparations for your plan beforehand.”

  Hal looked up, letting out a sigh. “I see. So I assume she has told you about it? However, the only person she would tell would be someone of great confidence to her. I assume you are an important member of the Yellow-Star village, am I right? How come we’ve never met?”

  Kiegan kept quiet, drinking from his bottle of ale.

  Stella tilted her head slightly and said something that shocked the man in the next instant: “She has found something in the forest that altered the plans. An essence of the Sun Goddess.”

  Clearly taken aback, Kiegan dropped his bottle and spoke before Hal could.

  “An—An essence?!” he said. “Where… no, how much does she want for it? Tell me the price, I’ll pay it.”

  Although Kiegan’s village had the most numbers and best military strength, he was technically the weakest leader amongst the forest villages' triad. For a single and simple reason: differently from Hal and Triss, he could not wield mana. He had tried many methods, from potions to gathering techniques, and failed in them all.

  An essence was something that could cause a great deal of change; it was something formed by divine energies, after all! Essences could form naturally in areas where the influence of a God was too heavy. For example, in a forest that was constantly bathed by sunlight, an essence pertaining to either the Sun Goddess or Forest Goddess could be naturally formed.

  It was nearly impossible to know exactly what an essence would cause before directly utilizing it, but they would grant an authority over something the God had domain of. An essence of the God of Dreams would be connected to sleep, dreams, nightmares, and mind. In comparison, an essence of the Goddess of Sun was much better suited to a warrior, granting things such as vitality, strength, control over light and heat, and so on...

  ... Besides, they were so rare that finding one even once was enough to completely change one’s life.

  Knowing that, if Kiegan could only put his hands on such a powerful thing… everything would change. But of course, just as expected when dealing with such a rare item, Stella shook her head immediately.

  “It is not to be sold,” she said. “But she asked me to tell you two, solemn leaders, that while coin was not interchangeable with it, a trade was not impossible. However, she did not expand on the details, so you must speak directly to her inside the dungeon.”

  Hal eyes carried a strange look, but he calmed himself in a matter of instants and quickly regained full composure.

  “Inside the dungeon, you say…” Hal sighed. “How many people know about the essence?”

  “Only the three of us, my lady, and the person who found it,” she promptly added. “As for their identity, I cannot disclose it.”

  “What does she want for it?” Kiegan asked, his voice dominated by hurry.

  “As I said, you must converse directly with my Lady. I do not possess such information.”

  “You…?” Kiegan was dominated by some inexplicable rage, touching the handle of his axe. “What if—”

  Before he could complete his sentence, Hal quietly glanced at him, emanating a powerful yet silent threat. Kiegan let go of the axe and instead stared away, drinking from his ale.

  “I understand, Stella,” Hal complied with a smile. “In that case, we may find her inside there. If everything goes well, it will be soon.”

  Stella lowered her head slightly. “Yes, lord Hal.”

  “No need for such titles,” he waved his hand. “But allow me to change the subject back to the main topic.”

  Kiegan kept drinking while avoiding eye contact, and Stella nodded in response.

  “Since she entered first, I must think that she confirmed the ritual worked and the dungeon’s nature was correct?”

  “Correct, lord,” Stella said respectfully.

  “Wonderful,” Hal said calmly. “Then, prepare your villagers, Miss Stella. You too, Village Leader Kiegan.”

  “Yes, lord,” Stella said. “I must attend to this matter immediately.”

  Hal agreed with a nod, surprised by such efficiency. Stella stood up from the wooden chair and walked to the tent entrance, moving the flap and quietly leaving.

  Then, his eyes shifted from the young woman’s departure to Kiegan, who was still seated next to him.

  “Do not be a fool,” Hal dropped his smile. “You know how treacherous that woman is; do not threaten a subject of hers so deliberately.”

  “But she lacked respect!” Kiegan retorted.

  “Respect means nothing. We have agreed to work together, the three of us,” he stopped briefly. “Do not create unnecessary conflict, Kiegan. Once our plan is completed, not only will you be able to use mana, but I will have no need for that village anymore. I might as well give it to you if you want.”

  The last sentence made Kiegan smile weakly, thinking of the future power he was about to possess.

  Having finished his scolding, Hal stood up and moved to the exit. Touching Kiegan’s shoulder without facing him, he said in a firm tone, “Do not fuck this up, Kiegan.”

  “Yes…”

  Hal then left the tent, leaving Kiegan completely alone.

  These fuckers! They treat me like that for now, but once I get to use mana… Hah! At that moment I will break their necks with my own hands. Acting like I’m their dog… Just some more time… that’s all.

  Kiegan shook his head and let the thought burn in his head, all while he kept drinking from his bottle in the shadowed tent.

  …

  Faust woke up from his reverie, surprised night had already fallen over the camp.

  I slept the whole evening?

  He yawned and rubbed his eyes until the sleepiness left his body. Since he was above the camp, he took a chance to observe it a little more. It was not completely empty, but most people were sleeping inside their tents, and the few left outside were the guards from the three villages, patrolling the area to prevent any danger.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Of course, the most noticeable thing was in the center of the camp: the shining and warping light that acted as the dungeon entrance, fluttering a couple of seconds above the ground in the absolute nothingness. The two guards were not there anymore; instead, just one of them remained, who seemed half asleep.

  A loud growl left Faust's stomach, making him notice he had not eaten anything since the morning meal. Judging by the moon’s position, he assumed it was either past or at least close to midnight. One of his alcohol bottles had been emptied, one was full, and the other was… missing.

  The answer to that mystery came really fast. Looking just below the tree, the bottle had fallen on the ground and shattered completely, the wine already absorbed by the earth. Faust paid it no mind, instead tying the other two to his waist and agilely descending the tree.

  Faust tried to ignore the hunger, but it was too intense. His body had gotten used to the training regime, and as such his metabolism had slightly changed, but the change was enough to make him extremely hungry if he did not eat at least twice a day.

  I wonder where they store the food. I guess I missed the distribution time, but it shouldn’t be too hard to sneak in and steal some.

  Due to his… miserable, to be polite, financial status back at his village, most of the things he had were stolen at some point. Once his clothes grew too small, he would steal new ones. If he ate from the communal pot and was still hungry, stealing it was. Books were the easiest to steal as well. So stealing was not something foreign to his mind; quite the opposite, in fact, it was an answer he had used a lot throughout his years.

  Walking through the mostly empty camp while avoiding the guards patrolling the outskirts was a considerably easy task due to his thief’s nimbleness. His stomach kept growling and gradually started to hurt, only making his search more desperate.

  Thankfully, the camp was not abundantly big in size. After some minutes, he found a cart covered by a white cloth. Because of the darkness, which was only somewhat countered by the gray moon and the wavering light of the dungeon, he was unable to see perfectly, but he was pretty sure the outline below it was that of breads. Having eaten bread most of his life, he could even be called a bread expert.

  There was one problem, however: that cart was guarded by a man. He was young and was likely assigned here due to being too inexperienced to guard the camp outskirts against monsters. Faust observed for a bit, waiting for the young man to falter with sleep or bordeom.

  Surprisingly, although assigned to such a menial task, his eyes brimmed with resolution and his posture was that of a person who would not leave his post unless he was dead. Since his waiting tactics did not seem like they would work, he had to change his strategy.

  Killing… no, obviously not. Faust shook his head. But since I do not think he will leave, I have to distract him. How do they do this in books… no… that is too stupid. There is no way someone will actually fall for that. But… what if it works?

  Faust thought for a bit about the idea, dismissing it a few times but settling on it in the end.

  Baffled by the lack of non-aggressive opportunities, he collected a few stones and then threw them behind the cart storing food.

  To his bewilderment, the plan worked.

  The young guard turned around, asking, “Who is there?”

  I… that is surprising….

  He threw another stone. The young man unsheathed his sword due to the lack of an answer.

  Another stone was enough to make the young man carefully circle the cart and stay on alert, his back turned to Faust and view blocked by the cart.

  Using the chance, Faust crouched and quickly approached the cart, only moving it slightly. He was right; there was a bunch of bread there.

  Greed took over his mind, and he grabbed two pieces instead of one before leaving just as silently as he had stolen them.

  Confused, the young guard returned to his previous position, oblivious to the crime that had just happened.

  Already far from the crime scene, Faust had consumed one of the bread pieces already. It was not tasty; actually, it was bland and tasteless. But it was better than hunger. He scratched his head while fearlessly walking and eating.

  But then, he heard a sound coming from the outskirts of the camp.

  "Ahh!"

  Initially, he ignored it, but then the sound resonated again.

  "Ahh! Fuck!"

  Swearing?

  Though confused, his curiosity was strong enough to make him stealthily walk toward the sound. He was aware it could be dangerous, but so what? What is fear to someone who wants to die?

  From afar, he saw the origin of the sound.

  There were two people skirmishing. He was not sure what it was, but they seemed to be exchanging moves. Sword clashes? There were a few sparks, but it did not seem like metal colliding. There was a body on the ground… a body? Faust’s eyes widened in shock.

  Suddenly, the exchange of moves finished as the other combatant, someone clad in a dark veiled cloth and holding a strange dagger-like weapon that was more similar to a tooth than an actual knife, was slashed from collarbone to waist.

  His body dropped to the ground while blood pooled below it. The darkness made it difficult to see.

  In the next moment, such overwhelming darkness was there no more, as the figure impaled the corpse with a sword, and from it, a golden light shone weakly.

  It reflected on blond hair. The light strengthened as it came from a pair of hands holding a dark sword. It illuminated just enough for the figure to be slightly seen, but it was enough to identify the perpetrator.

  Chris?! Faust froze, even more confused. Sure, he had suspicions about the man, but he did not think he would be killing on their first day here. Especially when the enemies were such strange people, wearing completely black clothing that gave them the appearance of assassins…

  Assassins?!

  Stunned in place and with nowhere to hide, Faust simply kept looking. What a dumb decision; apparently, he could in fact feel fear. Wanting to die did not make one immune to it.

  The golden light strengthened, creating a radius of light that reached Faust’s feet. At the same moment, the light transformed the fallen body into ash. Seeing this, Faust inadvertently dropped the half-eaten piece of bread; his eyes accompanied the falling bread until it hit the ground, the sound muffled by the grass.

  Shit!

  Chris glanced back almost instantly, his blue eyes piercing into Faust. He unclogged his sword from the ground and swung it to the side, apparently cleaning it.

  For an instant, Faust could not react. Then, Chris rushed towards him.

  By pure instinct, Faust turned around and began to run away. His face twisted into terror.

  Run! Run!

  Without looking back, he dashed away. His training had finally been useful for the first time!

  Faust glanced over his shoulder but could not see Chris anymore. Yet, before a thought could form in his head, he tilted his head to the side and dodged a fatal strike.

  Turning around again, Chris was in front of him!

  “Wait!” Faust said, taking a step back. “Calm down! I… I will call the guards!”

  “You dodged that…” Chris muttered, his face unreadable.

  Using the distraction, Faust went back to running away. Chris took only a second to keep going after him but seemed somewhat slow.

  Not too far from him, Faust could see the light from the dungeon. Was that the only escape? No, there was a guard near there! If he could only call him… no, should he scream right now?

  His mind was too confused, but hesitation meant death!

  So, he opened his mouth to scream. But no sound left it; his throat seemed to be obstructed by something. Now that he paid attention, not even his footsteps were making sounds anymore.

  What's wrong with me?! Don't matter. I will have to reach that guard!

  He kept running like a scared rabbit towards the portal. Chris tried to strike him once more but missed by a hair's breadth.

  Gradually, he neared the dungeon entrance. There was the half-asleep guard. He just had to touch him and wake him up so he could impede Chris… but Chris was a mana user!

  Faust was so panicked he did not even factor in a detail like that; he just wanted help. Any help would do!

  One step. Two. Three steps.

  He was only a step away from the guard, and finally, he was able to touch him, jolting him awake.

  In shock, the guard gripped his spear, and before he was able to even see the situation, his chest was pierced by Chris’s sword. A strong light left the guard’s orifices before he turned to ash the next moment.

  Faust stared at Chris, his back to the dungeon.

  “So…” Chris said, taking a step forward. “Why did you run?”

  Faust did not even try to respond. Instead, he retreated as Chris kept pressing with one step after the other.

  Nearing the warping mass of light, Faust could feel a strange sensation, as if his mind turned more clouded the closer he got to it. Moving his head frantically, alternating between viewing Chris and how close he was to the dungeon, he tried to think of a solution.

  “Answer me,” Chris continued. “You can speak now. I will not hurt you.”

  His body was drenched in sweat and his face full of desperation.

  Momentarily, time seemed to slow down.

  He was almost touching the dungeon; he could not retreat much more. How were the other guards not seeing everything? How were they not hearing anything? Were they just incompetent, or was something else happening?

  Aggressively, Chris took another step forward, and so did Faust, one step closer to the dungeon. But it was a misstep!

  His feet hit a small hole in the muddied earth, and he stumbled backward!

  At that distance, he would touch the dungeon entrance.

  Chris shot his arm forward and tried to grab his hands, but his fingers only grasped onto them!

  Faust closed his eyes as his body collided with the white portal.

  Everything turned completely black, then completely white. He found himself unable to open his eyes, as infinite hues of colors attacked from beyond his eyelids.

  There was no sound, but he also did not dare to listen if there was something. He did not dare to see either. A primal sentiment took over his being.

  His mind was unable to think, his body unable to react. He felt as if he touched nothing but was at the same time pressured by an invisible force!

  The notion of time was lost. Am I dead? He doubted.

  The notion of space was lost. Where am I? He questioned.

  Finally, he felt something stabilizing.

  Laying down somewhere, he felt a freezing cold seep into every particle of his being. Cold gusts of wind hit against his body and made his hair fly back.

  His back and hands were touching something soft and grainy and cold… With his eyes still closed, he thought: Snow?

  Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned them, observing the ground. It truly was grainy and cold; it was snow.

  Then, he moved his head again and stared above. The sky was pitch black; however, the place was illuminated. The answer making itself clear: in that black sky, there was an azure moon, beaconing its light from on high.

  While Faust tried to understand what had just happened, he forcefully rolled over and stood on all fours, vomiting violently onto the snow and melting some of it, his eyes half-lidded and weak.

  Just as his thoughts started to settle; from the ambient, a voice resounded in his ears… no, in his mind, or maybe somewhere deeper than it.

  “Welcome, traveler…”