Won’t lie, as I checked my Inventory Box for the third time to make sure I had all the supplies I needed, I felt a little giddy about what my status profile showed. Switching to the dagger now restored my Opportunity Killer and Initial Strike Bonus to full strength and having a hook hand had removed the penalty on the Spellbane Lockpicking passive ability.

  The System really was fair when it decided on stuff.

  We were now at the entrance of Lasair Manor, me on my mare and Duncan on a white stallion.

  Because of course he rides a white stallion.

  I could feel Osirus perched on my shoulder as the two of us glanced back. Duncan was doing his last good-byes, now dressed in his armor, speaking with the servants and priestess. It made me wonder if he had any family left now that his father passed away, but we weren’t close enough for me to ask such a personal question.

  Maybe though with a common goal, we could become friends. It would be nice to be friends with someone I go into a dungeon with for once.

  It was almost time to go and one person was making it clear Duncan shouldn’t leave.

  For the third time the priestess rushed forward, her white robes fluttering as she grabbed Duncan’s armored hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her voice trembled with emotion.

  "My Lord, please reconsider," she pleaded, knuckles turning white as she squeezed the metal encased fingers. "This isn’t the way to find peace. I know you’ve… struggled with what was done to the former Lord Eric Lasair, but Liora always has a purpose for everything which happens."

  I shifted uncomfortably in my saddle, averting my gaze to give them privacy. Osirus of course shamelessly stared at the interaction. The priestess had been at Duncan's side throughout our preparations, her protests growing increasingly desperate as our departure drew near.

  "Lady Miriam," Duncan said, his voice gentle but firm, "my path is clear. Some journeys must be taken, regardless of where they lead."

  "But there's still time," she insisted, tears welling in her eyes. "You could return to the cathedral, seek guidance from the High Priest. The church needs you, Duncan. I—" She stopped herself, blinking rapidly. "We need you."

  Duncan dismounted, taking both her hands in his. "The church has plenty of knights, Miriam. But I have lost my way. I cannot serve the Light when I’m not sure if I can believe in it anymore."

  The last words caused the priestess to flinch as if he had slapped her. She bowed her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. Duncan released her hands and turned to his butler, who stood at attention nearby.

  "Elridge, you'll oversee the estate in my absence. The eastern fields should be harvested within the month—ensure the workers receive fair payment."

  "Of course, my Lord," Elridge replied with a deep bow. "The manor will be maintained as if you were present. How long shall we expect your absence?"

  Duncan's gaze drifted toward the horizon. "I cannot say."

  "Then we shall await your return, however long it may be," Elridge said, his voice steady despite the concern etched on his weathered face.

  With a final nod to his staff, Duncan mounted his stallion. Lady Miriam stepped back, her hands clasped in prayer as we rode through the gates, leaving Lasair Manor behind.

  [Party Invite from Duncan Lasair- Yes/No]

  I gave him a nod as I touched the panel in front of me to accept the invite.

  We traveled in silence for nearly an hour, the rhythmic clopping of hooves filling the space between us. The countryside stretched before us in rolling hills of emerald and gold, dotted with farmhouses and distant herds of cattle.

  "How can you be certain this Hellene is at Sorrowmire Swamp?" Duncan finally asked, breaking the silence. "It's not a place many would choose willingly."

  I adjusted my grip on the reins, the leather straps awkward against my hook hand. "I was the one who told her about Elane's death," I explained, the memory still raw despite the months that had passed. "Someone had to tell her when she arrived at the capital's Royal Palace to give lessons and I volunteered."

  “She didn’t… take the news well.”

  I hope the Demon King kills every last one of you bastards and brings a end to this ugly world!

  “One of the last things she said was that she was leaving for Sorrowmire Swamp to be alone and not bother her.”

  “It appears strange, if she did want to be left alone then why would she go out of her way to tell you where she was going? It seems almost as if she predicted you would come look for her,” Duncan said, scratching his chin.

  I stared dumbfounded at Duncan, not able to come up with a logical response.

  He was right, there was zero reason for her to say where she was going to. Did she purposely tell me because she always assumed one day I’d look for her?

  "I honestly never thought about it that way," I admitted, scratching the back of my neck. "Maybe you're right. Maybe she did expect me to come looking for her eventually."

  Duncan nodded thoughtfully, adjusting his position in the saddle. "Tell me more about this Lady Gardens. What kind of person are we seeking? I prefer knowing who I'm about to face."

  "She's..." I paused, searching for the right words. "Hellene Gardens was one of the most respected Crafting Enchanters in Elska. Specialized in magical item creation and material identification."

  "A senior Crafting Enchanter?" Duncan's eyebrows rose. "Those are rare."

  "With good reason. The System gives people crafting abilities, but it's frustratingly vague about what materials create what items." I gestured with my hook hand as I explained. "You might have the ability to craft a Flame Staff, but the System won't tell you that you need fireflies and volcanic glass to make it."

  "So it's all guesswork?" Duncan frowned.

  "Worse than that. It's expensive, dangerous guesswork. Most enchanters waste fortunes combining rare materials only to produce garbage." I shook my head, remembering Elane's frustrations. "That's where someone like Hellene is invaluable. She's spent decades cataloging what materials create what items."

  "And she took Elane under her wing?"

  "Pretty much—she mentored her, protected her. Gave her access to materials most crafters would kill for." I remembered how Elane's eyes would light up when she spoke of her lessons with Hellene. "It was the only time I ever saw Elane truly confident, when she talked about what she'd learned from Hellene."

  "Caw! Smart woman!" Osirus flapped his wings for emphasis. "Knowledge is power!"

  "Exactly." I nodded at the raven. "Hellene has notebooks filled with material combinations and their results. A treasure trove of crafting knowledge that most enchanters would kill for."

  Duncan's expression darkened. "Do you think she'll help us? If she cared for Elane as you say..."

  "I don't know," I admitted. "Last time I saw her, she was... broken. Grief-stricken. And furious with me."

  "With you specifically? Why?"

  I stared at the road ahead, my throat tightening. "Because I was the one who told her Elane was dead. And because I couldn't save her."

  The conversation lapsed into silence after that, each of us lost in our thoughts as our horses continued their steady pace. The landscape gradually changed as we traveled, the neat farmlands giving way to wilder country. By nightfall, we had reached the edge of a dense forest that would take us three days to traverse before reaching the marshlands beyond.

  The forest was the first test of our newfound alliance. Dense underbrush slowed our progress, forcing us to dismount and lead our horses through narrow game trails. Duncan proved surprisingly adept at wilderness survival, identifying edible plants and setting snares that caught rabbits for our evening meals.

  "Where did a noble knight learn such skills?" I asked on our third night, as he skinned a hare with practiced efficiency.

  Duncan's hands never paused in their work. "After my father died, I spent months hunting alone in these very woods. I found... clarity in the solitude."

  Osirus, who had taken to flying ahead during the day and rejoining us at night, brought news of monsters we successfully avoided. I could tell Duncan wasn’t exactly crazy about the idea of letting dangerous monsters live, but I pointed out we were on a tight timetable. I was going to assume that Fredrick did as I asked. And if I found out he didn’t when I returned to the capital… well I’d handle it one step at a time.

  By the sixth day, the forest thinned and the ground beneath our feet grew increasingly sodden. The air took on a sulfurous quality that made breathing unpleasant.

  Sorrowmire Swamp loomed before us like a fever dream made manifest. The treeline gave way to a vast expanse of murky water punctuated by gnarled, half-submerged trees that reached toward the sky like the hands of drowning men. A thick, yellowish fog hung low over the landscape, obscuring all but the nearest features and giving the entire swamp an otherworldly glow.

  "By the Light," Duncan murmured, reining his stallion to a halt beside me. "This place feels... wrong."

  He wasn't exaggerating. The very air felt heavy, as if the swamp itself were breathing around us. The normal sounds of nature had been replaced by an eerie symphony of distant croaks, slithering movements, and occasional splashes that seemed too large to belong to any ordinary creature.

  "Smells like death and decay," I said, covering my nose with my sleeve. "With a hint of rotten eggs."

  The stench was overwhelming—sulfur mixed with the sickly-sweet odor of decomposition. Bubbles rose to the surface of stagnant pools, bursting with soft pops that released more of the noxious fumes which stung my sense of smell.

  "The horses can go no further," Duncan declared, dismounting from his stallion. He ran an armored hand through the stallion’s white mane. "The ground ahead is too treacherous."

  I glanced nervously at our mounts. "If we leave them here, they might run off. We'd never find them again in this wilderness."

  Duncan shook his head, a hint of pride crossing his features. "Valor is no ordinary horse. He was trained by the Lasair stablemaster from birth." He patted the stallion's muscular neck. "He'll remain at this spot, and should your mare wander, he'll herd her back. They'll be waiting when we return."

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "You sure about that?" I asked skeptically, eyeing my nervous mare as she stamped her hooves and snorted at the swamp's stench.

  "As sure as I am of my own sword arm," Duncan replied, already unloading essential supplies from his saddlebags. "I've trusted Valor with my life many times."

  I reluctantly dismounted, securing my own supplies to my Inventory Box. My hook gleamed dully in the strange, filtered light of the swamp. "I hope you're right."

  We tethered the horses to a sturdy tree at the forest's edge, leaving them with enough rope to graze and reach a small freshwater stream nearby. Duncan whispered something in Valor's ear before turning toward the swamp, his hand resting on his sword hilt.

  "Now, let's find the shallowest path," he said, studying the murky terrain. "Osirus, can you scout ahead?"

  "Caw! Osirus will find path! Follow!" The raven took flight, circling above the mist-shrouded landscape.

  I drew my dagger with my good hand, the hook ready at my left. Duncan unsheathed his sword—a plain steel blade, nothing like the ornate Fire-Friend his father had wielded. Together, we picked our way forward, testing each step with care.

  The ground beneath our feet shifted from firm to spongy, water seeping up around our boots. I quickly discovered that what looked like solid ground often wasn't—patches of moss and vegetation floated atop water deep enough to swallow a man whole.

  "This way," Duncan called, finding a narrow strip of more solid ground. "The water's only ankle-deep here."

  We followed a winding path of semi-solid terrain, our progress agonizingly slow. The mist curled around us like living tendrils, reducing visibility to mere yards. Strange, luminescent fungi clung to rotting logs, casting an eerie blue-green glow that only added to the swamp's unnatural atmosphere.

  "Something's watching us," I murmured, the hairs on my neck standing on end. I activated Heighten Senses, immediately regretting the sensory assault as the swamp's stench and sounds magnified tenfold. I had gone from having a nose which wrinkled to downright choking on the smells surrounding me. I could feel Duncan patting my back while softly inquiring whether I was okay.

  I waved him off, trying to concentrate more on my sense of sight.

  The world sharpened into hyper-focus as my Heighten Senses skill cut through the murky haze. What had been indistinct shadows transformed into crisp, detailed shapes. The swamp's topography unfolded before me like a living map—every bubble, every ripple, every subtle movement.

  "There," I hissed, my hand shooting out to grip Duncan's armored forearm. "Ten yards ahead. Those aren't rocks."

  What most travelers would mistake for smooth, moss-covered stones partially submerged in the fetid water were actually the domed crowns of reptilian heads. Five pairs of unblinking yellow eyes stared at us just above the waterline, so still they seemed part of the landscape itself.

  "Swamp Gremlins," I whispered, my enhanced vision catching the glint of razor-sharp teeth beneath the water's surface.

  The moment the words left my mouth, the creatures erupted from their hiding spots. Water exploded upward as they launched themselves into the air, their scaly green bodies glistening with swamp water. Each stood barely three feet tall, but their limbs were packed with muscles and clawed hands dripped with water as they dashed forward.

  [Scan Results] Monster: Swamp Gremlin Race: Fey Level: 20 Stats: Str 14, Con 10, Dex 17, Wis 8, Int 8 HP: 35/35 MP: 13/13

  I immediately shut off my Heighten Senses, the overwhelming assault on my perception vanishing as suddenly as it had come. The world snapped back to normal focus—still dangerous, but manageable.

  "Back to back!" Duncan barked, pivoting to face the oncoming threats.

  I spun around, pressing my shoulders against his armored back. The cold metal of his plate pressed reassuringly against me as I raised my dagger in my right hand, hook poised at the ready with my left.

  "I'll take the three on my side," Duncan called over his shoulder, his sword already whistling through the air.

  The first gremlin leapt at me, jaws stretched impossibly wide. I sidestepped, feeling the solid presence of Duncan behind me, and drove my dagger into the creature's throat. Hot, black blood spilled over my hand as I yanked the blade free.

  A second gremlin charged low, aiming for my legs. I swept my hook down, catching it under its jaw and lifting it clear off the ground. The creature thrashed wildly, claws raking the air inches from my face. With a twist of my wrist, I slammed it against a nearby tree trunk. The impact shattered its spine with a wet crack.

  Behind me, I heard Duncan's sword cleaving through scales and flesh, his breathing controlled and methodical. Each swing ended with a meaty thunk and a guttural shriek.

  "Watch the water!" I warned as I spotted ripples approaching from the left.

  Two more gremlins burst from the murky depths, launching themselves at us simultaneously. I ducked beneath clawed fingers, feeling them graze my scalp. My dagger found the soft underside of one creature's arm, severing tendons. It howled, tumbling past me into the muck.

  Duncan's sword flashed in my peripheral vision, cleaving the second attacker clean in half. Black ichor sprayed across the moss, creating an ugly stain where it landed.

  "They're wearing collars," Duncan grunted, kicking away a twitching corpse.

  I spun to see what he meant. Around each gremlin's neck was a thin metal band, inscribed with symbols that glowed faintly blue in the swamp's dim light.

  "Someone's controlling them," I muttered, wiping my blade clean on a patch of moss.

  The final gremlin, sensing its companions' defeat, turned to flee. My dagger flew from my hand, burying itself between the creature's shoulder blades. It collapsed face-first into the water with a splash, its limbs twitching once before going still.

  "Good throw," Duncan said, his breathing slightly elevated from the exertion.

  I retrieved my dagger from the dead gremlin, examining the collar more closely. "These are enchantment runes."

  “And we just happen to be looking for a Crafting Enchanter,” Duncan commented, kneeling beside another corpse.

  “I guess these are her… guard dogs? It would make sense for her to set up some sort of protection for herself,” I said as I cleaned my dagger. Duncan frowned as he surveyed the monster corpses.

  “Perhaps, but she had them attack us even though we’re humans. I could understand her using these enslaved monsters to attack other monsters, but she shouldn’t just have them attack any random person who comes by here,” the knight said with a scowl as he crossed his arms.

  “In all fairness this might not be random. Remember I told you she was upset with me. She may have intentionally set them up to attack us because I’m with you,” I said with a cough. It didn’t bode well for my chances to recruit her if she was willing to sic mind controlled monsters onto me. Here’s hoping she’d cool down by the time we found her.

  "This swamp stretches for miles," Duncan said, surveying the misty expanse around us. "It could take weeks to find one woman who doesn't want to be found. How exactly are we supposed to locate Lady Gardens in all this?"

  Osirus fluttered down from a gnarled branch, landing on my shoulder with surprising lightness for a bird his size. "Caw! Will should use his special sense! Like when you found Osirus with eyes closed!"

  Duncan turned to me, eyebrows raised. "Special sense?"

  I shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the holy symbol at my neck. "It's... hard to explain. Ever since I found this pendant, I've developed a sort of sixth sense. A feeling that guides me sometimes."

  "You mean like divine guidance?" Duncan's voice had an odd edge to it. Something flickered across his face—a tightness around his eyes, a subtle clenching of his jaw. Was that envy?

  "I wouldn't call it divine," I said carefully, watching his reaction. "More like an instinct. When I focus, I can sometimes sense the presence of people. That's how I found Osirus with my eyes closed."

  Duncan's hand unconsciously rose to his chest, as if reaching for something that wasn't there. The gesture confused me—why would my explanation affect him so deeply?

  "I see," he said finally, his voice carefully neutral. "Well then, perhaps you should try using this... instinct now. We have few other options."

  "I'm not sure it works on command," I admitted. "And I've never tried to locate someone I can't see."

  "Try anyway," Duncan urged, his earlier tension transforming into encouragement. "Focus on Lady Gardens. Picture her in your mind."

  I closed my eyes, feeling slightly foolish. The pendant felt warm against my skin as I concentrated on what I remembered of Hellene—her stern face, the silver streaks in her dark hair, the way her hands moved with precise efficiency when examining magical materials.

  Nothing happened.

  "I don't think—" I began.

  "You're thinking too much," Osirus interrupted. "Don't use your head. Use your heart."

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the cliché advice, but decided to try again. This time, instead of picturing Hellene's appearance, I focused on the feeling of her presence—the quiet authority she carried, the sense of contained power that seemed to surround her.

  The pendant grew warmer. A gentle tug pulled at something deep in my chest, like an invisible thread drawing me forward.

  My eyes snapped open. "That way," I said as I tried to keep a hold on the feeling of being pulled, pointing northeast into the densest part of the swamp.

  "You're sure?" Duncan asked, studying my face.

  "No," I admitted. "But it's the best lead we have."

  We pressed deeper into the swamp, following my instincts. The path grew increasingly treacherous—patches of quicksand disguised as solid ground, hidden sinkholes that could swallow a man whole, and thorny vines that seemed to reach for us as we passed.

  [New Ability Acquired! Soul Detection- Can sense the direction of a person met in the past due to their soul’s characteristics. Will consume 3 MP every five minutes Soul Detection is active. Warning- This ability can only be used when you have 14 Wisdom.]

  The feeling of going in the right direction went from unclear to absolute certainty. The System was recognizing what I was doing and making it an officially activated ability which somehow made it stronger. The only downside was now it was costing me mana, but the cost was negligible.

  After an hour of trudging through the swamp, my mana reserves dwindled dangerously low. The constant drain from Soul Detection was taking its toll, and I could feel the clarity of Hellene's presence beginning to fade.

  "We need to hurry," I muttered, splashing through ankle-deep muck. "I can't maintain this much longer."

  "Caw! Look ahead!" Osirus called, taking flight from my shoulder.

  Through the mist, a structure materialized—a stone tower rising from the murky waters like some ancient sentinel. Its gray walls were stained with moss and lichen, the upper portions crumbling from years of neglect. A single window near the top glowed with faint amber light.

  "That must be Lady Gardens' home," Duncan said, squinting at the dilapidated structure. "Though it's seen better—"

  A violent splash erupted from the water beside us. Before either of us could react, a massive serpentine form shot upward, its scales glistening like wet obsidian in the dim light. The creature—at least fifteen feet of muscle and scales—wrapped around Duncan with frightening speed, constricting his armored form.

  "Will!" he gasped, his face reddening as the serpent squeezed. His sword arm was pinned to his side, the blade useless in his grip.

  [Scan Results] Monster: Lesser Serpent Race: Dragon Level: 24 Stats: Str 19, Con 14, Dex 17, Wis 3, Int 4 HP: 75/75 MP: 33/33

  The scan result flashed across my eyes the second I saw the creature, but I had no time to consider the data. With Duncan's life hanging in the balance, I activated Scorpion Sting with a thought. My hook transformed instantly, the metal elongating to a needle-fine point as black poison seeped across its surface.

  "Hold still!" I shouted, darting forward.

  The serpent's head swiveled toward me, jaws unhinging to reveal rows of backward-curved teeth. I feinted left, then lunged right, driving my poisoned hook deep into the creature's scaled hide where it wrapped around Duncan's chest.

  The effect was immediate. The serpent's body convulsed, its muscles spasming as the poison entered its bloodstream. Its grip loosened enough for Duncan to wrench one arm free. With a grunt of effort, he managed to create enough space to slip from the creature's coils, collapsing into the shallow water.

  The serpent thrashed wildly, its tail whipping across the surface and sending waves of fetid water in all directions. As it writhed, I caught a glimpse of something metallic around its throat—a collar identical to those worn by the gremlins.

  "Duncan, it has a collar!" I called, backing away from the dying creature.

  Duncan staggered to his feet, water streaming from his armor. "Someone's controlling all the swamp creatures," he said, gasping for breath. "Your teacher has been busy."

  "She's not my teacher," I corrected automatically, watching as the serpent's movements grew increasingly erratic. "But yes, this is definitely another one of her pets."

  I circled behind the creature, my hook still dripping with black venom. The serpent's movements were becoming sluggish, its strikes less coordinated as the poison worked through its system. Duncan seized the opportunity, driving his sword into the creature's open mouth as it lunged at him.

  The blade burst through the back of the serpent's skull, and its massive body went limp, crashing into the murky water.

  For a minute we just stared at the corpse, not saying a word, but panting for breath as the adrenaline high began to wear off.

  “You know… I realize it’s absolutely terrible timing to say this now, but I think my idea of trying to recruit her might not have been the right call,” I said, as I noticed the serpent corpse occasionally twitch and flop.

  “I have to admit, the type of welcome we received definitely wasn’t encouraging,” Duncan said as he sheathed his sword.

  “Caw! Well I’m not leaving until we eat! We’ll insist the mean lady feeds us even if she won’t join us,” Osirus said as his feathers fluffed, “It’s the least she could do with all the trouble she gave us.”

  "I plan to have more than harsh words for this Lady Gardens," Duncan growled as we approached the stone tower. "Sending mind-controlled beasts to kill visitors isn't exactly the behavior of a respected enchanter."

  I couldn't disagree, but kept my eyes scanning our surroundings as we waded through the knee-deep water. Something about this approach felt wrong.

  "Be careful," I warned. "If she's clever enough to enchant collars for swamp monsters, she's clever enough to—"

  A mechanical grinding sound interrupted me, followed by the splash of something heavy rising from the water. Metal bars shot upward in a perfect circle around us, erupting from the murky depths with shocking speed. They connected at the top, forming a dome-shaped cage that trapped the three of us inside.

  "Ambush!" Duncan roared, drawing his sword with a metallic hiss. He raised the blade to strike the nearest bar.

  "Wait!" I lunged forward, grabbing his arm. "Look at the runes!"

  Glowing blue symbols pulsed along each bar, intricate patterns that seemed to shift and change as I watched them.

  "Those are defensive enchantments," I explained quickly. "You’ll probably just break your sword striking them or maybe even something worse."

  Duncan lowered his weapon, his expression darkening. "So we're trapped."

  "Like prey animals!" Osirus squawked indignantly, fluttering from bar to bar, testing for weaknesses.

  A loud creak of a door’s hinges filled the air, and just like that, we were no longer paying attention to the trap. We were paying attention to the doorway of the stone tower and who was stepping through it.

  Hellene Gardens finally made her appearance.

  And she looked pissed.