The soft creak of leather straps and the shuffle of worn boots echoed quietly in the room as Richard Feller packed his things. Morning light bled through the edges of the window shutters in muted gold, warming the edge of the sword resting on the desk. His movements were slow, deliberate—his mind clearly elsewhere.
He tied the last strap of his bag, then stopped, glancing at the window. A flicker of memory came back to him.
Flashback: The Night Before
Selphina sat lazily on the windowsill, legs crossed and swinging. The silver moonlight painted her face in sharp lines, contrasting the warm lamplight behind Richard.
"I figured you'd want the update," she began, voice unusually formal. "The summit's real purpose is to secure the final relic piece. With it, they can bring the progenitor back."
Richard raised a brow as he strapped on his boots. "And what's the progenitor got to do with the eclipse?"
Selphina tilted her head. "The high court claims he'll have the power to 'eat the sun'—whatever that means. Some vampire prophecy nonsense. But they believe it."
Richard scratched his head, mumbling. "Great. Sun-eating monsters. That's new."
Selphina smirked, then leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh—and before I forget. Yuri? She's very… interested in you."
A visible shudder ran through him.
She grinned. "So, what is your relationship with her, hmm?"
"Don't push it," Richard replied dryly.
Selphina raised her hands. "Alright, alright."
He looked at her flatly. "Any more intel?"
She shifted. "Nope. That's it."
His eyes narrowed. He said nothing, just stared.
Sweat rolled slowly down her face.
"You're really annoying, you know that?" she hissed, then muttered, "Fine."
She crossed her arms. "There's a report. Undead mutants. Heading for Ervest. They'll be there in a few hours. Thought it was just noise. Guess not."
Richard's expression turned sharp—cold and heavy.
"You can go now."
Selphina didn't wait for him to repeat it. In a blink, she leapt off the window ledge and vanished into the night.
(Present)
Richard slung his pack over his shoulder and made his way down the creaking stairs of the Swordfinn Inn. The tavern was quiet this early—just a few lingering drunks and the barkeep wiping down glasses. He dropped the key on the counter without a word.
The barkeep looked up, met Richard's unreadable gaze, and offered a slow, silent nod.
Richard pushed the door open and stepped out into the morning air. The city of Zen, still cloaked in shadows and whispers, stretched out before him. News of the city lord's death had cast a quiet fear across its streets.
And that silence would only deepen.
Bandit Hideout
The hideout still smelled of damp wood and smoke. Inside, the men were laughing, gambling, eating—settling back into their criminal routines.
Richard walked through without a word, boots thudding on the floorboards.
The bandit leader looked up from his desk, blinking.
"Well, morning," he said carefully. "Didn't expect you back so soon. Something wrong?"
Richard sat down in front of him.
"Pack up. All of you. We're leaving today."
The leader froze, then furrowed his brow. "That… is sudden. What's going on?"
"Undead horde," Richard said flatly. "Heading for Ervest."
There was a pause, the weight of the words settling like dust.
"Right. And you need our help to take them down?" the leader asked, slowly.
Richard didn't answer the question directly. He leaned forward.
"Most of your men won't like it. I don't care. Because here's the thing—there's a new city lord coming in. A war veteran. Has a hobby: finding crooks and cutting off their heads in public squares."
The leader paled.
"Zen's about to become very clean," Richard finished, voice cold as steel. "And criminals like you? You won't last a week."
The bandit leader didn't argue further. He stood up slowly and cracked his knuckles.
"…Alright, boys!" he shouted toward the hall. "Start packing! We're moving to Ervest!"
Shouts of protest erupted from the other rooms—angry, confused, whiny.
But in time, boots thudded, crates were slammed shut, and bags were tied.
Three creaking carriages rolled out of Zen by the afternoon, loaded with twenty grumbling, half-awake bandits. Some still argued. Others just smoked and looked grim.
Richard sat on horseback ahead of the convoy, his long coat fluttering with the wind. His eyes didn't look back at Zen once.
The city was behind him.
War was ahead.
End of Chapter 22