I woke up just before the first rays of light found their ways through the window.

  I tossed and turned for a few minutes, hoping for the return of my peaceful slumber, yet sleep did not grace my eyes. I sighed, slowly leaving the comfort of my bed.

  After many days, my body got used to getting up early, preventing me from sleeping in even if I really wanted to. On the bright side, I felt refreshed after less than 7 hours of sleep.

  It would take at least 40 minutes for breakfast to be ready, so I decided to take out my still-sheathed sword, and repeat a few movements.

  I couldn't properly train in this small room, but my level of control increased enough to be able to safely do a few moves. In fact, the confined space itself contributed to this type of training, forcing me to focus on precise control.

  ‘While you were partying, I studied the blade.’

  Taking a step back and looking at my actions, I couldn't help but find my own training regimen to be a bit.. excessive.

  ‘But then again, what else is there to do?’

  This wasn’t just the most efficient use of my time - it was also the least boring one.

  ‘Is this how people lived before before computers- no, before even TVs were a thing?’

  There was nothing better to do with my time than train. Well, the city had books, and I would love to read some books, but as I currently was, even if I got to the city, I couldn't justify reading anything that wasn't useful in my current situation.

  ‘And the truly useful books are probably very expensive.’

  I could only hope there was something worth reading in the city's Adventurer's Guild library.

  After some time, my nostrils caught a faint scent of fresh vegetable stew.

  I came down to the dining hall, just in time to see Martha come out of the kitchen with a familiar cauldron, and a trolley filled with bowls, plates, and carrying a big basket of freshly baked bread.

  I took a look around - a few familiar faces of fellow guests, and not a single wizard in sight.

  ‘Could he be a late sleeper? Or perhaps eating here is beneath him?’

  I really hoped it wasn't the latter, but even if it was the former, my plan to strike up a casual conversation over breakfast would have to be put aside. After all, I had plans this morning.

  Quickly emptying my bowl of delicious stew, and leaving no traces of my plate’s former contents beyond a few black crumbs, I swiftly left the inn, taking the familiar route to the adventurer's guild.

  As I walked through the front door, I noticed an unfamiliar woman behind the counter.

  “Good morning, adventurer.”

  “Good morning..?”

  “May. I'm the one who usually replaces Jane. Although that doesn’t actually happen often.”

  She added the last part with a strained smile.

  “Oh, is she alright?”

  Not that I liked Jane too much, but I guess I sort of got used to her. And she was respectful back when Tim…

  “She is taking a short leave for personal reasons.”

  “I see. Well, I'll be off to the training yard, then.”

  “Have a good day.”

  “You too.”

  While I was glad nothing seemed to happen to her, I was nowhere near close enough to care about Jane’s personal circumstances, not to mention prying into them, so I simply continued on.

  The training went as usual – more specifically, I could feel myself progressing slightly further than the session before. It was a somewhat addicting feeling.

  ‘Should be about time now.’

  According to the hourglass on my waist, two hours have just passed since the moment I got out of bed.

  Putting away my sword while I was still full of energy felt strange – however, I could just return and finish my training a bit later.

  I followed yet another familiar route, one which led me straight to the Sun Shrine.

  As I arrived, I circled around it, approaching the small two-story house, and knocking on the door.

  What answered me was complete silence.

  I knocked once more, only to receive the same silence in return.

  “Amelia?”

  A terrible feeling started creeping in. However, this was in the middle of town - and the residence of clergy, to boot. Perhaps she simply overslept?

  “Amelia!”

  This time, I shouted, but not a single sound came from inside.

  Carefully, I pushed the door - it was locked.

  I took a few steps, circling the house – one of the windows, the one leading to the guest room, was open.

  ‘If this is a misunderstanding, I'll have to hope for another shepherd’s pie today to buy as an apology. I'll gladly pay this price, though.’

  I squeezed through the window, my boot stepping on a nostalgic bed, the first one I slept in after finding myself in this world.

  The sole left a dirty stain on the pristine sheets, but I didn't even spare them a thought.

  Opening the door, I peeked outside – the living room was empty. In the fireplace, I could see a few embers among what used to be the smouldering logs, now turned to ashes and coal. They have most likely burned since yesterday night.

  I carefully examined the surroundings. Nothing caught my attention, until my gaze fell on the stairs to the upper floor. There, I noticed something – a tiny white piece of fabric, caught on the edge of one of the wooden stairs. Its colour matched that of Amelia's robe.

  I rushed upstairs, keeping my eyes peeled for anything out of place.

  I saw three doors in front of me – one of them was slightly opened.

  “Amelia?”

  After calling out one last time, as the dreadful feeling intensified, taking the place of my last shreds of hope, I opened the door.

  This seemed to be Amelia's room. I carefully looked around, scanning the unkempt bed, the few drawers and potted plants in the room, and finally, the big writing table, complete with bottom drawers, upper shelves, and a comfortable chair in front of it.

  On the table was an unsealed envelope, and a small, coin-sized trinket near it, made of yellow-tinted metal, its shape matching that of Amelia's amulet.

  I approached the table, pocketing the letter and token, and looked at the bed – the way the sheets lay suggested Amelia was literally dragged out of bed. Then, she was likely dragged down the stairs, her robes (or maybe a set of sleeping robes of similar colour) getting caught by one of the sharper edges.

  But what happened next?

  I quickly went down the stairs again, and took another look around.

  There was a basement door, and a back door as well. I decided to check the basement first.

  As I opened the door, I was greeted by a set of steep, squeaky wooden stairs.

  The light from outside, seeping through the basement door, was enough to illuminate the small space, at least for someone with my senses.

  Walking halfway down the short stairway, I threw a quick look around, scanning the wooden shelved and a few jars and sacks, noticing nothing suspicious-

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  ‘Wait, no! This feels… familiar.’

  Slowly moving my eyes, forcing myself to explicitly focus on every detail, I noticed the single naked earth wall in the back of the small basement.

  The feeling of aversion I felt when looking at it felt familiar, similar to the feeling I once felt in the woods.

  ‘What is this?’

  I slowly walked closer to the wall, but the moment I was a few steps away, it suddenly disappeared, as if it was never there.

  Instead, a completely unexpected sight unfolded before my eyes.

  It was a tiny cave mere meters in depth.

  On its sides stood a few largely-empty shelves, housing a few boxes and glass jars.

  One of the jars, filled with translucent green liquid, had something round floating inside. Looking closer, it was an eye, although the thin, vertical pupil suggested an inhuman origin.

  On the stone floor, relatively clean otherwise, were three rune circles, seemingly drawn with chalk. Two of them seemed to have been erased, while one, still legible, had a single white shard standing upright in its middle.

  Despite the bony appearance, the shard seemed to pierce the stone floor – however, upon closer inspection, it was actually standing vertically on the very edge of its tip, maintaining an impossible balance.

  On the far end of the cave was a small stone altar, with dark stains on its stone pedestal, as well as the surrounding floor.

  For a moment, my heartbeat quickened, but as I approached and touched the stains, it became clear they were not recent.

  In fact, I couldn't even feel a hint of the familiar iron scent in the air, which I could still distinctly sense when goblin blood was a few hours fresh.

  ‘This is already beyond suspicious. But whatever happened – it didn't happen here.’

  I grabbed a nearby box - which felt empty - and used its edge to prod the shard on the floor.

  It tilted to the side, before regaining its initial position, as if drawn back by some unseen force.

  Taking out my sword, I decided to swiftly conduct one last experiment. The edge of my sword touched the shard, and…

  ‘As expected, it must have been magic’

  The moment the tip of the blade reached the bone(?), the shard slumped to the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut off.

  I could also clearly see the strange symbols below the shard flashing with bright green light for a moment, before dissipating into the same illegible mess as the other two circles.

  ‘That’s enough. I’ve wasted enough time.’

  I didn’t know what happened to Amelia, but this hidden altar convinced me - it couldn't be anything good.

  On the other hand, she was likely kidnapped recently, and the lack of blood or signs of struggle suggested that she was deliberately knocked out and taken alive.

  If I hurried, perhaps I could prevent something terrible from happening.

  Quickly leaving the basement, I rushed through the back door, finding myself in a small shed, connected directly to the house.

  On the sides were a few tools and sacks, while a relatively large area in the middle, leading to the shabby double door, was empty.

  Opening the door, I clearly saw the imprints of two wheels on the ground, almost certainly belonging to a cart.

  I was no expert in tracking such prints, but the somewhat eroded edges suggested they were not very fresh, although not too old either.

  ‘Perhaps an hour or two? It would make sense if this happened right before or after sunrise, too.’

  I quickly began following the tracks, leading me towards…

  “Greetings, adventurer.”

  A single guard was standing watch at the town's back entrance. I've even seen him a few times over the last few weeks.

  “I have to ask you something. Please, this is very important.”

  Upon hearing the urgency in my request, the guard tensed up.

  “Has anyone passed this gate with a cart recently? Perhaps an hour or two ago.”

  The guard squinted his eyes, but, perhaps due to his faint familiarity with me, he decided to give an honest answer.

  “Two hours ago, just after sunrise, the old priest passed through here.. with a cart, as you described. Why?”

  “...”

  I already suspected it, but this completely confirmed my fears.

  “Hey! Where are you going?!”

  “The priest's house! Look for the fake wall in the basement!”

  “What? Basement?..”

  Without waiting for the guard to ask any more questions, I sprinted in the direction of the forest.

  After a few moments, I managed to calm down a bit, switching to a light jog. The priest, if that's really who (or what) he was, was already ahead by a significant margin – I believed I was faster, of course, but if he was hiding his strength, there was no guarantee his pace would be that much slower than mine.

  This wasn't a sprint - this was a marathon, with Amelia's life on the line.

  As for the destination – it was hard to follow the tracks on the forest trails, but I already had a guess, and the occasional wheel imprints on the ground further solidified my confidence.

  I remembered where I felt a similar sensation to the wall in the basement – it was the “cursed hill” I saw from a distance, back on my first mission, during the journey to the ill-fated goblin nest.

  In fact, the sensation was identical. The only difference lay in me, having become more acquainted with this peculiar feeling, and capable of discerning it with greater ease.

  I slowed down to a fast walk, taking a sip from my waterskin, which was much smaller than the one I used during my gathering runs, as it was instead the ‘water bottle’ I carried in town.

  Besides that, I had no other provisions. I also had my gold pouch, which was useless here, and the tiny healing potion, which I never left in the room. I truly hoped the latter didn’t have to be- no, that it could still be of use in this situation.

  Either way, I hoped my guess was correct – and even more so, that I would catch up to the priest half-way. How fast could a 100 year old priest move a cart? Unless his whole identity was fake - or stolen - I would be able to catch up to him before he reached his destination.

  An hour passed. Then another.

  I have reached the spot where we veered off the trail back then - the shortcut which led to the goblin cave.

  I could barely remember it, but I did recognize this route. Luckily, I studied it as part of my potential harvesting routes.

  Its main disadvantage in that regard was that there was no different return route except for this one here, forcing me to skip nearly half the potential profit. That, and the fact I already cleared it not too long ago.

  Thus, I never actually took this route since then – however, I did remember it well enough to navigate it now.

  ‘I got here in about two thirds of the time compared to back then. That means I'll get to that hill in less than two hours. But where did the priest go?..’

  I saw no traces of the cart wheels, or the faint footprints beside them, for over half an hour.

  ‘Could he have taken a bigger shortcut?’

  It made sense – after all, our previous route had the goblin cave as its destination, only coincidentally passing by the cave. Perhaps, if we had decided to take a shortcut earlier, we'd have taken a completely different route. Or perhaps, this was the only proper route known by the halfling, but the priest knew a different one.

  ‘It doesn't matter. Trying to follow a new route could cost me more time than it would save.’

  I have already decided to go through the familiar shortcut – there was no sense in dwelling on that decision.

  I continued my march, trying to maintain the fragile balance between my speed and my stamina.

  Minute after minute, tree after tree - with every step I took, my chest felt a tiny bit heavier - and not because of fatigue. Yet, I endured, not slowing my pace even once.

  ‘There!’

  Just as the tension started to feel unbearable, I finally noticed the familiar hill. This time, there was no need to adjust my perception – it seemed to be a one-time effect.

  As I approached the small hill, I realized there was actually a slope in front of it. As I got closer, I could see the base of the hill, and the small cave entrance near it.

  I slid down the slope, carefully approaching the rocky maw. Right beside the opening, I could see the discarded cart, carelessly tossed to the ground, now laying on its side.

  The insides of the cave were dim, but the light coming from outside revealed enough of its inner structure – the tunnel gradually grew into a small cavern, before becoming narrower again, after which it curved to the side, creating a corridor.

  From that corridor came a faint flickering light, dyed yellow and crimson - the signature color of the local torches.

  With my senses stretched to the extreme, I could only hear a single sound from inside, slow, continuous dripping, akin to droplets escaping a leaking pipe, only to rejoin their brethren in the puddle underneath.

  I took out my sword, before slowly stepping inside.

  My eyes were darting upwards and to the sides, while I kept my sword close to the ground in front of me.

  From all my experience playing games with fake illusionary walls, I wouldn't be surprised if a skeleton with a sword dropped at me from the ceiling, and after seeing the magic circles in that basement, I had a deep suspicion something similar could be used to set a trap on the barely illuminated floor.

  Focusing my vision to the extreme, I also saw some blurred leftover scribbles on the ground, but poking them with my sword seemed to have no effect.

  As I approached the corner, no trap was triggered, nor were any new sounds heard.

  As I slowly turned it, a second cavern revealed itself before me.

  It was bigger than the first, stretching over two dozen meters in length, and half as much in width.

  On its sides were four lit torches, resting on high stands one could find in any general store in town.

  What one couldn't find in the local stores was a stone altar, similar to the one found in the basement, but much bigger; If that one could maybe hold something the size of a cat, an adult man could comfortably lay on this one.

  On the altar was a wide, shallow bowl. Above the altar, held by two metal chains that came from the ceiling, a figure was suspended mid-air.

  Even with her back turned, her white robes, short figure, and silky golden hair left no doubts about her identity.

  Slowly, drop after drop, blood was dripping from her body - somewhere in the front, perhaps her nose - and finding its way straight into the bowl, which was still half-filled.

  In front of the bowl, a single figure, wearing dark-gray robes, was kneeling, perhaps in silent prayer.

  Beside the figure were two others. Surprisingly, those creatures had just crossed my mind.

  Guarding the one who must have been the old priest were two human skeletons – animated undead, each holding a shield and a short sword, which I could vaguely recognize from the Crimson Anvil’s low-quality stock.

  Taking another look at the ground, I could see quite a few bones scattered around, as well as a few more sets of similar arms, and even a single greatsword.

  However, none of that mattered to me right now.

  As the old priest, aware of my presence, slowly stood up, I could only utter a single question, failing to conceal the blooming wrath underneath my calm tone.

  “What have you done to Amelia?”