“Tak, tak, tak!” Slow and methodical footsteps echoed through a mansion that smelled of death.

  The man, or… the creature that walked through these hallways, didn’t bother looking at the dead bodies littered on the ground, focusing his gaze ahead.

  “Splash!” He stepped on a puddle of blood, and now, each time he walked, bloodied footprints were left on the ground.

  “M-Masster,” the creature, Erne, muttered under his breath.

  He kept walking until he reached a closed door in the middle of a silent, deteriorated hallway, filled with frames and pictures of figures.

  His hand reached for the door handle and opened it slowly, revealing the scene inside.

  Erne didn’t utter a word, crouching and walking inside and looking around before bringing his attention back to the dead body on the ground.

  His face was a wreck, and barely any recognizable features remained besides his hair.

  That hair, Erne could recognize anywhere; it was the same hair of the man who had given him life, who had raised him.

  “M-Masster,” he repeated, this time some hint of emotion seeping into his words.

  Erne took the body in his arms and looked at it while tilting his head to the side.

  His eyes were wide open, and no expression crossed his face.

  “Thiis happened, why? You… promised… me,” Erne said, staring at the lifeless body for a few seconds without saying anything.

  “Liar,” he said before gently placing the body on the ground and standing.

  “Boy, kill.”

  In a huge castle, inside an office, a man with a powerful aura was seen deftly writing on a parchment.

  His hand glided over it at inhuman speeds, but his face remained unchanged, as if the effort required to do this task was easier than breathing.

  Around him, the air had a rich, fragrant quality, exuding a pleasant aroma of aromatic flowers.

  The office appeared capable of comfortably accommodating a small family.

  Multiple bookshelves stood scattered around the room, being almost overfilled with content.

  The area was filled with the pleasant silence of the pen gliding over the parchment, and the individual’s focus was so great that he didn’t notice what was happening around him.

  “Bam!” The door burst open, but the concentration of the man wasn’t diminished in the slightest.

  He barely paid it any attention, remaining focused on the task at hand.

  Hurried footsteps approached the desk, and before they could reach it, the man spoke.

  “Katherina, I know you well enough to recognize your footsteps. Why are you bothering me at this time? Do you not remember me telling you to study in your room and not bother me, no matter what?”

  The man’s gaze remained on his parchment, saying what he had to say and immediately concentrating.

  “Father, I am the bearer of bad news,” a girl’s voice could be heard.

  The man paused in his writing and raised his gaze to match his daughter’s.

  “So? Get to the point. I do not have all day,” he answered.

  When the eyes of the man met hers, Katherina couldn’t help but look away.

  They felt as if they could read her soul, making a shudder of discomfort crawl over her body.

  Katherina took a deep breath before slowly releasing it, all in the man’s eyes, whose patience seemed to be thinning.

  “Father, our royal guards have found the dead body of brother Kalle and his group. They were all massacred, and they also found no evidence of the one responsible for it.”

  Katherina fell silent, her fists clenched as the king’s expression remained unchanged.

  “Father, do you care at all? I am not talking about some nobody guard; I am talking about Kalle! My brother, and your son! He was brutally murdered, with his face having been stabbed over twenty times,” she said.

  There was a moment of silence, and the parchment hid the king’s trembling hand from his daughter.

  To Katherina’s eyes, his father seemed calm, way too quiet, appearing as if he didn’t care at all about the situation.

  After a few seconds, the only thing King Otis said was “Leave at once,” leaving no room for debate.

  Katherina opened her mouth to speak, but received one look from the king, and she shut it.

  She looked down, her teeth grinding together, and left the room, slamming the luxury wooden door behind her.

  The echo spread in the enclosed space, and the king sat still for a few seconds.

  Hearing closely, his erratic breathing grew louder by the second, and his pupils turned redder by the moment.

  His body tensed, and the previously comfortable air grew heavy.

  A pressure then appeared, wrapping everything around it and slamming it down to the ground.

  It was such that the nearest bookshelf cracked before folding on itself and falling to the floor.

  Books were scattered, leaving a mess, and the parchment in front of him tore apart, but the king’s mind was elsewhere.

  From one second to the next, the pressure was gone, as if it never existed in the first place.

  The king mimicked his daughter, breathing deeply before slowly exhaling.

  Just as his body relaxed, he took out another parchment from his desk and got back to writing, but something had changed in him.

  He no longer looked focused, with him taking frequent pauses in his writing.

  He wrote for a few seconds before the pen snapped from his hand and flew into the ceiling, nailing itself to it.

  Not withstanding it anymore, the king swiftly grabbed the end of the table and threw it against the wall with considerable strength.

  The wall cracked, and the impact was loud enough to be heard throughout the castle.

  Without waiting, he stood and exited the room with each step promising destruction, leaving a big mess behind.

  Back in the Church of Orgurd, Father Vincent read the same book he’d been reading all week.

  He looked bored, with his legs up on the table and leaning back against his chair in a poor posture.

  In front of him, a boy spoke frantically, his words filled with his worries.

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  It was Alhen.

  He had tried to explain what had happened, but the father refused to listen, shutting him down multiple times before he could even begin talking about where he had been.

  Father Vincent closed the book he was reading and focused his attention on Alhen, who looked at him with frustration.

  “What do you want, Alhen? Are you finally going to explain to your father why you have been missing all this time?” Father Vincent asked.

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you, but you didn’t listen!” Alhen exclaimed, but Father Vincent’s expression didn’t budge.

  Under the scrutiny and silence of the father, Alhen sighed before sitting on the chair in front of him.

  “Let me begin by saying that I was kidnapped. Kalle, the son of the king, did it, and I killed him,” Alhen said, gritting his fists and shifting uncomfortably on his chair, expecting the father’s answer.

  Father Vincent, who had heard his words, sat still for a few seconds, almost unable to believe what he had just heard.

  His eyes lit up the next second, however, and he burst out laughing.

  “Hahaha! Alhen, I knew it! You are special, my special boy,” Father Vincent said.

  “Huh?” Alhen stood frozen.

  He had just told the father what happened, and this was his response.

  “I am proud of you. If someone is threatening you, no matter where he is from, you should destroy him like a bug,” he said with a smile.

  “But, what about the consequences of killing the son of the king? Won’t I be hunted down like a parasite?” Alhen asked.

  “Listen, Alhen, why do you think everyone respects me? It was not because I was soft and submissive; you have to break the rules, shift everything in your direction, until you become unstoppable,” Father Vincent responded.

  ‘Well, I understand, but the problem is that I don’t have enough strength to do so. What good will it do me if I start a problem with everyone I see when I don’t have enough strength to allow myself to do that?’ Alhen thought.

  He sighed and leaned his elbow on the armrest, resting his chin in his fist.

  “I am lost, should I not do anything? Or do something?” Alhen asked.

  Father Vincent shook his head.

  “The king should not suspect you if Kalle did not say anything about you. Alhen, you are weak, that is a fact. All those guards that you said were killed by Alaran were at least Blood Hunter rank, and there is no way for you to have killed them.”

  Alhen didn’t know what a Blood Hunter rank was, but he knew what the father was saying.

  However, being called weak by the father was never pleasant.

  “What I recommend you do is to live your life like you have been doing until now. This time, be more careful in case a situation like this happens again,” Father Vincent said.

  “But, if they figure that—”

  “We will worry about that when it happens. If something were to take place, notify me, and I will step up. Right now, I am busy. Go do whatever you want,” Father Vincent interrupted.

  Alhen looked at the father intently, his body slightly shaking as he wondered what to do.

  In the end, he left the office without saying a word, closing the door behind him.

  ‘What do I do now?’ He questioned as he walked through the maze-like hallways.

  First things first, he decided to pay a visit to Sloan and Sierra.

  He didn’t know whether they would be in ‘The Crying Halberd,’ but he had to take his mind off the recent events.

  He headed to his room first, where he got his thuls and got ready to head out, this time with more caution.

  As he stepped foot out in the streets, he could feel something tugging at his heart.

  There was dead silence as he walked, and the usual nauseating smell hung in the air.

  This didn’t bother him; however, it was something else.

  His body was tense; his gaze darted around, leaving nothing unchecked.

  No matter how much he told himself that everything was alright, that feeling didn’t go away; it only increased.

  He started breathing heavily, constantly checking if his revolver and axe were in their usual spot.

  He sped up his pace; the walk to the establishment seemed eternal, and the feeling only intensified by the second.

  Alhen could feel his heart beating erratically and without control, so much so that it started to hurt, and he gripped it with his only arm.

  He gritted his teeth and tried breathing as he looked behind him and to all sides.

  Alhen couldn’t spend more than three seconds without looking somewhere that wasn’t already checked by him moments ago.

  The Crying Halberd came into his vision, and his racing heart picked up the pace again, this time with more intensity.

  ‘This was where I was kidnapped, I cannot let it happen again,’ he thought.

  His leg muscles were ready to engage and run as fast as possible if that were to happen.

  It was only when he entered the establishment that the feeling went away.

  At the end of it, his back was drenched in sweat, and his heartbeat took a minute to return to normal.

  Minutes that he used to look around for his partners, who seemed to be absent.

  Looking at his pocket watch, he noticed why.

  From what he was told, the siblings typically arrived at the establishment an hour earlier, but in his hurry, he hadn’t taken the liberty to glance at the time.

  ‘Now what do I do?’ He asked himself.

  Anywhere he looked, people seemed to be staring at him, sizing him up, but he knew this was only his imagination.

  He kept his hand near his revolver just in case, and looking at the exit door, he couldn’t help but stay away from it.

  Just the thought of setting foot outside again seemed daunting, and it would take him a few minutes to calm down enough to do it again.

  His gaze landed on an empty round table; there was only one seat, and he took it.

  Most of the time, the ambience outside was somber, full of hopeless stillness, but in here, he could see people laughing and chatting amiably, which calmed him somewhat.

  He observed the situation inside the tavern, only for his stare to land in the receptionist’s eyes.

  His body shuddered; she didn’t blink, having her eyes wide open, the fake smile still there, her hands clasped together, making her look like a creepy doll pretending to be a heartwarming woman.

  Deciding that he had had enough, he lightly nodded in her direction and didn’t wait for her reaction.

  Turning around, he left the establishment, and as soon as the doors closed, the feeling of being observed returned, but this time, it was milder.

  ‘Remember, it is only your imagination; you are fine, no one is out to look for you. Be careful, but remember to be calm and composed at all times,’ Alhen talked with himself.

  With nothing to do at the church, he decided to go for a walk in the pig district.

  ‘I need to get rid of my fear. I can’t be losing myself every time I step outside.’

  Making up his mind, Alhen walked forward into the pig district, with each step being calculated.

  Some time passed before he was there, the guards letting him through, remembering his visit with Father Vincent.

  In the streets, he attracted attention; his unusual hunter’s attire, coupled with the fact that some had seen him walk with the Kovesh, was hard to miss.

  ‘Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all,’ he thought.

  Alhen felt that tug in his heart start growing as he kept walking, and just as he started regretting his decision, he saw a tall structure standing before him.

  A church—he recognized that architecture anywhere.

  It was massive, looking more regal and polished than the father’s church, and it had an unsettling air about it that made him stare longer than he should.

  Alhen didn’t know why, but something about it tugged at his chest, urging him to go inside.

  He looked ahead and saw people of all ages entering through the wide-open, unguarded front door.

  Seeing how people disappeared inside, the urge to explore the place and to see what it was all about grew stronger.

  ‘Since arriving in this world, I guess I really haven’t done much. All the time I have spent here, I have been worrying about survival and getting stronger for revenge. Should I go check it out?’ he thought.

  The decision was instant.

  ‘Since many people are heading inside, I should be safe. The only thing that worries me is my attire, but if no one stops me, then I’m going in.’

  With his thoughts in order, he approached the long line of people and joined it.

  He moved quickly, arriving at the door in less than two minutes.

  Engrained on the door were some small, blue letters that caught someone’s attention.

  Those words said, “Church of Tomes.”

  ‘Alright, if I see anything that screams red flag, I will immediately leave this place. I will need to make sure that I am never alone and that when I leave this place, no one starts following after me.’

  After making sure that he had everything planned in his mind, he stepped inside the church.

  He took in his surroundings with a frozen face; contrary to his expectations, it was dead quiet in here, and he could see why.

  There was a row of benches in the middle facing a preaching stand.

  To the sides of those tables, many bookshelves filled to the brim with books and stairs leading to them could be seen.

  Gold draped the interior once again, creating dizzying patterns on the floors and walls that, when looked at closely, resembled the slithering body of a Chinese dragon.

  Alhen lost himself in the lines of gold for a few seconds before his gaze landed on the ceiling.

  The ceiling rose to a considerable height above him, but the bookshelves almost touched it from how tall they were.

  ‘There can easily be thousands of books in that one bookshelf alone,’ Alhen thought with amazement.

  No one in the area talked, fully engrossed in the world of books and knowledge.

  He snapped out of his thoughts when someone grabbed his shoulder and gently pushed him aside.

  Alhen got on guard, expecting a fight, but he realized that in a distraction, he’d blocked the entrance.

  He showed an apologetic look, and the woman who pushed him looked at him condescendingly before walking towards the benches.

  Alhen didn’t take her attitude to heart and walked to the bookshelves with the fewest people and further away, breaking his rule in the process.

  Alhen took books and read their first pages.

  He skimmed the contents and frowned; based on his observation, all the books seemed to be diaries.

  The worst part about it was that the titles were all weird and made Alhen stop in astonishment more than a few times to make sure they were real and he hadn’t read them wrong.

  “My dead wife looks exquisite, even when asleep. The children below my bed are trying to kill me. Life of the drug-taking great hunter who lived in the woods. My greatest desire is to turn into a wiht,” Alhen lowly muttered some titles under his breath, making sure not to talk loudly.

  He shook his head at the titles, not believing they were real, but after skimming the contents of some, that seemed to be the case.

  “What is this?” he whispered, and his face twisted.

  ‘I wondered why I would want to read the story of someone else, but these titles are way too out of pocket, making me curious,’ he thought.

  In the end, he placed the books aside and noticed something that made his eyebrows perk up.

  A book of shiny crimson red color stood out among the plain-looking books with grey and black covers.

  He felt the smooth texture before picking it up and reading the title, which read, “Nameless Lord (Vol 1).”

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