"Well done, you're improving fast," Zareth mutters, arms crossed as he towers over me. His usual smug demeanor lingers, but there’s something… different this time. "Now, I guess it's time."

  I wipe the sweat from my forehead, letting out a tired but proud laugh. "Aw... You're gonna make me cry, hehe." I try to play it off, but the weight of those words hits harder than I expected.

  Zareth shakes his head, crimson eyes gleaming behind his helmet. "Save the drama, human. You’ll need that emotional energy just to stay alive out there."

  I swallow hard. "Time for what?"

  "Time for you to leave." His voice drops into something colder, final. "You’re ready."

  "Already?" The word slips out before I can stop it. "I mean… not that I’m complaining, but I figured you’d keep beating me senseless for at least another week."

  Zareth chuckles, a low, dangerous sound. "You think I enjoy wasting my time? You’ve learned enough. But—before you go, one last gift."

  He steps closer, placing his hand on my forehead. Suddenly, it feels like ice is seeping into my skull. My eyes widen as strange symbols flash behind my eyelids—words I don’t recognize but somehow understand.

  "There," Zareth says, pulling his hand away. "A translation skill. You’ll need it to understand those pathetic humans."

  I blink a few times, shaking off the cold sensation. "You’re kidding me? You couldn’t have given me that before all the training?"

  Zareth smirks. "Where’s the fun in that?"

  Before I can retort, the air shifts. A dark portal opens, swirling shadows pulling at my feet.

  "Wait, wait—one more thing." Zareth raises his hand again, and with a loud pop, something thuds onto the ground beside me.

  I look down and… "What the hell is that?"

  It snorts loudly, staring at me with beady, soulless eyes. A massive, chubby creature—covered in coarse hair, drooling from its oversized mouth.

  "A… pig? You’re sending me into a dangerous world with this?"

  Zareth snorts. "That’s no pig, human. It’s a battle boar. Tough as stone, faster than it looks."

  I squint at it. "That thing looks like it just lost a fight with a buffet table."

  The boar snorts angrily, stomping one foot—and the ground cracks beneath it.

  "Yeah, okay, maybe it’s not just a fat pig," I mutter, taking a cautious step back.

  Zareth, clearly amused, waves his hand. "Enough stalling. Time to go."

  The portal hums louder now, shadows reaching out like claws.

  I take a deep breath and glance back at him one last time. "Guess this is it, huh?"

  "For now." His voice softens just a bit. "Remember, Elric Dela Cruz—don’t die. You’re my investment now."

  I nod, gripping the boar’s coarse hair like reins. "Alright, bacon buddy. Let’s not die."

  And just like that, the portal pulls us in—me, my sword, and my angry, oversized not-pig.

  Great start already, I think as the world around me dissolves into shadows.

  The light is blinding. One second, I’m surrounded by shadows and cold, and the next—BAM—it feels like someone just shoved the sun directly into my eyeballs.

  Everything shifts so fast that my stomach lurches. Darkness twists into blinding white, and then—thud—I hit solid ground.

  Grass? Dirt? Leaves?

  I blink rapidly, trying to adjust as my vision clears. Trees. Leaves. Birds chirping far too cheerfully for my liking.

  And then it hits me.

  "WHY AM I IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WOODS?!?!?!?!?!?!"

  My voice echoes through the trees, scaring off a couple of birds that screech and fly away like I just disturbed their morning yoga session.

  "Oink?"

  I whip around to find it—my so-called mighty companion.

  "You!" I point accusingly at the beast Zareth so kindly sent with me. "You’re supposed to be my guide or protector or something, right?"

  The boar just stares at me, snorting lazily like it doesn’t have a care in the world. It plops down on the grass like we’re not clearly lost in the middle of nowhere.

  "Seriously?" I run my hands through my messy hair, glancing around the dense forest. "No signs, no map, no friendly tutorial NPC? Just trees, twigs, and you?"

  The boar gives me another unimpressed oink and starts chewing on a patch of grass.

  "Oh, great," I mutter, looking up at the sky through the canopy of leaves. "Thanks a lot, Zareth. This is exactly how I pictured my grand adventure starting—lost, confused, and babysitting a glorified ham sandwich."

  The boar snorts aggressively and headbutts my leg.

  "Ow! Okay, okay, you're not just a snack with legs, I get it!" I back off, hands raised in surrender. "But seriously, where the hell are we?"

  The forest stretches endlessly in every direction. No trails. No smoke from a distant village. Just me, a sword, and this overgrown bacon factory.

  "Alright," I sigh, gripping the hilt of my sword for comfort. "Let’s think this through. Step one—don’t die. Step two—find civilization. Step three—figure out if I just got dumped in some discount fantasy survival game."

  The boar looks at me with an almost judgmental squint.

  "Don’t give me that look. You’re not helping."

  It grunts, snorts, and starts waddling off into the trees.

  "Wait, where are you going?"

  It pauses, glances back, and lets out a loud oink—as if saying, "Are you coming or what, genius?"

  "Oh," I blink. "You actually know where you’re going?"

  Another oink, this one more impatient.

  "Alright, alright, lead the way, bacon buddy. But if we run into something deadly, you’re taking the first hit."

  The boar snorts again and keeps waddling forward.

  Fantastic, I think, trudging after it. My fate’s in the hooves of an angry meatball.

  "Hey, where are we going? We've been walking forever! At least let me ride on your back..." My voice comes out strained as I trudge behind the boar, sweat dripping down my face. My legs feel like jelly, and every step feels like punishment.

  The boar grunts and keeps waddling forward like it doesn’t have a care in the world. I glare at it. "You’re literally built like a walking couch. Let me ride you just once. I’m dying here!"

  It suddenly stops.

  I stumble forward, nearly falling flat on my face. "Oink?"

  I squint at the beast. "What now? Why’d you stop?"

  The boar doesn’t answer—obviously—but instead snorts and nudges its snout toward something up ahead. I shove aside the thick bushes blocking the path, and my breath catches in my throat.

  A wide, open field stretches before me, bathed in soft sunlight that cuts through the scattered clouds above. The grass sways lazily with the wind, but what really grabs my attention is the sight beyond the field—a village. Small houses with smoke curling from chimneys, the faint sound of chatter in the distance, and... people. Real, actual humans.

  I stumble out of the bush, my heart racing. "No way… Humans... Finally!"

  The boar oinks again, but I barely notice. Relief floods through me like a tidal wave, and my knees almost give out. After all the insanity—Zareth’s brutal training, dying over and over again, fighting that nightmare of a tikbalang—I finally found a sign of civilization.

  Now, all I have to do is figure out how not to look like a total maniac when I walk into town...

  Everyone's style is totally different from what I'm used to… or maybe this village just isn’t well off.

  I glance around, taking in the worn clothes, patched fabrics, and weathered faces of the villagers. The buildings look old but sturdy, made from stone and wood, with signs of age in every creak and crack. This isn’t the kind of fantasy village I pictured—it’s real, gritty, and struggling.

  Whispers.

  "Who's that guy... What happened to his clothes?"

  "Kids, stay away from him… and that thing with him."

  I glance down at my boar companion, who oinks indignantly, clearly catching the shade being thrown. Rude, I think, patting its back as if to say, You're fine, buddy.

  Before I can even think of what to say or do, an elderly man steps forward. His posture is straight, but his face carries years of hardship, deep lines carved into his skin like a map of everything he's endured. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scan me like he’s trying to read every secret I might be hiding.

  "Who are you?" His voice is firm, no-nonsense. "And what are you doing in our village?"

  I freeze under his stare. Crap, just play it cool.

  "Uh… My name’s Eli. I’m kinda lost and—honestly—just need a place to stay for a bit." I try to sound confident, polite, normal. Normal, even though I definitely look like I just crawled out of a demon’s personal training ground… which, technically, I did.

  The old man’s eyes narrow. His gaze sharpens, like a blade pressing against my neck without ever touching me.

  "We’re happy to help those in need," he says slowly. "But if you’re going to reek of demonic presence everywhere you go… I’ll have no choice but to kick you—and that creature—out of my village."

  Demonic presence? My stomach flips. Shit, Zareth didn’t mention anything about me smelling like a walking demon beacon!

  I swallow hard and raise my hands in surrender. "Wait—hold on! I didn’t even know I reeked of anything. I swear, I’m not here to cause trouble. I just… need help. Please."

  The boar oinks like it's backing me up, though it sounds more like Feed me, than Help my friend.

  The old man stares at me for what feels like forever before letting out a sigh. "You have one night. Prove you’re not a threat—or we’ll handle it ourselves."

  One night, huh? No pressure...

  I stare at the boar, hands on my hips, trying to process the fact that I’m apparently getting life advice from a glorified walking ham sandwich.

  "How are we gonna do this? How do we prove ourselves?" I mutter, already feeling the weight of the villagers’ glares drilling into my back.

  It oinks. Just… oinks. But somehow, somehow, it feels like there’s actual meaning behind it. Like it's trying to say, Help the village with their struggles, oink.

  I squint at it. “Are you serious right now? You’re suggesting we just… help out? That’s your genius plan?”

  It oinks again, louder this time.

  I sigh and rub the back of my neck. “Alright, fine. Fine. You better not just be hungry and trying to get free food out of this.”

  Taking a deep breath, I glance around the village square. People still watch from a distance—whispering, pointing, and keeping their kids behind them like I’m some wild animal. Okay, Eli, think. What does every struggling fantasy village need?

  Then I spot it—a group of villagers arguing near a broken well. Buckets lie scattered around, and the ground nearby is dry and cracked.

  Water problems. Classic.

  I march over, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. The moment I get close, the conversation cuts off, and they all turn to glare at me like I just volunteered to ruin their day.

  "Uh, hey," I start awkwardly. "You guys having trouble with the well? I… might be able to help."

  One of the men, arms crossed and scowl deep enough to rival a canyon, eyes me suspiciously. "And why would we trust you with that? You’re the one stinking up the whole village with demon magic."

  I raise my hands in surrender. "Look, I’m just trying to help. Give me a shot, and if I screw it up, you can… I dunno, kick me in the face or something. Deal?"

  They exchange glances, muttering between themselves. Finally, the man sighs and steps aside. "Fine. Prove you’re not useless."

  I step closer to the well and peer inside. The rope’s frayed, and the pulley system’s busted. Worse, the well itself is nearly dry—just a thin trickle of water at the bottom.

  Okay, okay, think. Zareth gave me that eye upgrade. Maybe it can help spot a blockage or something?

  I focus, letting the red glow in my left eye activate. Come on, demon eye, don’t fail me now.

  Suddenly, the well’s interior sharpens in my vision—I can see cracks in the stone, and… there! A blockage deeper down.

  I turn to the skeptical crowd. "There’s a rock jammed near the bottom. If someone lowers me down, I can break it loose."

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The man raises a brow. "You sure?"

  "Positive."

  Time to prove I’m not just dead weight.

  "Hey… let me down slowly, got it?" I say, trying to sound confident as I step onto the bucket. But deep down? Maybe this isn’t a good idea.

  The rope creaks ominously as they lower me down, the bucket swaying slightly with every inch. I grip the sides tight, staring at the cold stone walls closing in around me. The deeper I go, the cooler the air gets, carrying the damp, earthy smell of the well.

  This better be worth it.

  Finally, I see it—the stupid rock jammed awkwardly in the narrow gap where water should be flowing freely. I brace myself against the walls, reaching out carefully.

  "There you are, you stubborn little… Okay. One… two… three!"

  I grip the rock with all the strength I can muster and pull. At first, it doesn’t budge. My arms strain, every muscle screaming, the rope above groaning like it’s ready to snap.

  Come on! Move already!

  With a sudden lurch, the rock breaks free.

  WHOOSH!

  A rush of water bursts through, splashing against my face. The trickle becomes a stream, then a full-on flow. I blink through the spray, grinning like an idiot.

  "There! Now pull me back up!" I shout, voice echoing up the narrow shaft.

  The rope tugs, and I start rising slowly. Relief washes over me—until the bucket jerks suddenly.

  Snap!

  My stomach drops.

  "Uh… guys?!"

  The rope frays—one strand after another snapping—until I hear the worst sound imaginable: the final pop of the rope breaking completely.

  Gravity yanks me downward like an angry hand.

  "OH COME ON!"

  I hit the water with a splash, sinking instantly into the icy depths. The cold punches the air out of my lungs, and I flail, kicking toward the surface.

  This is NOT how I go out—

  I break through, gasping for air.

  "Hey! Rope! Ladder! Anything?!" I yell, paddling awkwardly to stay afloat.

  A few tense seconds pass before I see something drop—a makeshift rope made of tied-together clothes and blankets.

  "Grab on, idiot!" someone yells from above.

  "I'M TRYING!"

  I grip the makeshift rope and start climbing, muscles burning with every pull. After what feels like forever, I finally reach the top, collapsing onto the ground, coughing and soaked to the bone.

  I blink up at the crowd of villagers… and the boar.

  It oinks. Mockingly.

  "Yeah, yeah, don’t look so smug, bacon boy."

  The man who doubted me earlier steps forward, arms crossed but… not scowling this time.

  "You actually did it," he says. "Water’s flowing again. Guess you’re not completely useless."

  I sit up, exhausted but grinning. "Told you. Now… someone get me a towel before I freeze to death."

  I slowly push myself off the ground, every muscle screaming in protest. "Ugh... I really need to be careful. It's not like when I was there—I can't just be revived anymore."

  The weight of that realization hits me harder than the cold water ever could. One mistake out here, and it's game over—for real this time.

  The sun dips lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the village. The sky’s painted in soft oranges and purples, peaceful in a way that feels totally at odds with how wrecked I feel inside.

  I glance at the boar—still waddling along beside me like some weird, chubby guardian. "I guess we need to find a place to stay," I mutter, patting its side half-heartedly.

  It gives an approving oink—or at least, I think it’s approving. Honestly, I’m too tired to tell.

  We wander through the village, passing wooden houses and curious stares from villagers who were probably convinced I wouldn’t climb out of that well alive. I catch snippets of their whispers—less harsh now, but still wary.

  Just as I start thinking we might have to sleep under a tree, the same elderly man from before steps out of a nearby house. His expression’s softer this time—not friendly, but less like he wants to toss me back in the well.

  "You did good today," he says gruffly. "You’ll need rest if you’re planning to stay useful."

  I blink. "Wait—are you offering us a place to stay?"

  He grunts. "One night. No trouble. After that, you’re on your own again."

  Relief floods through me. "Thank you. Seriously."

  He eyes the boar suspiciously. "And… that thing stays outside."

  I glance down at my weird, oinking companion. "Sorry, buddy. Looks like you’re camping under the stars tonight."

  The boar just oinks again—this time with what feels like pure betrayal.

  I head inside, finally ready for some much-needed rest. The warmth of the fire and the simple bedroll on the floor feel like heaven compared to what I was expecting.

  As I lie down, my body finally relaxing, one thought echoes in my mind:

  Tomorrow’s another fight.

  But for now?

  I survive.

  I wake up to the sound of people talking outside—loud, overlapping voices that pierce through the early morning stillness.

  "Why are they so loud?" I groan, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I sit up. At least my muscles aren’t screaming at me anymore. Small victories.

  Dragging myself to the window, I peek through the worn wooden frame. A crowd has gathered in the village square, people shifting and murmuring like a restless sea. Why the hell is everyone gathered there this early?

  I stretch, feeling my joints pop in protest. The air outside seems cooler than usual, carrying the scent of dew and earth. Might as well see what's going on. I grab the door handle, its rough wood cold beneath my fingers, and step outside.

  The scene feels unusually tense for a gathering about food. Villagers clutch empty baskets and sacks, their faces drawn with both hope and exhaustion. The atmosphere is heavy—like everyone's expecting something but doesn’t fully trust it.

  I spot a woman standing near the edge of the crowd, her arms crossed as she watches the commotion unfold. I approach cautiously and clear my throat. "Hey, sorry—can I ask what's going on?"

  She turns toward me, her eyes tired but not unfriendly. "They're handing out free food," she says flatly.

  "Free food? Why?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  She snorts, shaking her head like she's heard this question too many times before. "Well, you'd think it's out of kindness, right? Maybe someone finally decided to help out this struggling village."

  Before I can respond, a loud, boastful voice echoes through the square, cutting through the murmurs like a blade.

  "Remember, good people! Vote Aldric Thornveil for Baron of this land! Enjoy this generous gift of food—brought to you by your future leader’s boundless kindness!"

  The crowd falls uncomfortably silent for a moment before the usual shuffle and murmur return. The woman next to me sighs, her expression tightening into something bitter. "Yeah... that’s the reason," she mutters. "It's not charity. It's just another way to buy loyalty before the next election."

  I glance around at the crowd again—people clutching loaves of bread and sacks of grain like lifelines. Guess desperation makes it easy for someone like him to play the hero.

  A sudden rumble echoes through the ground, and before I can react, a carriage beams past behind me—its exterior gleaming gold under the sunlight, polished so thoroughly it nearly blinds me. The wheels cut through the dirt path with an unsettling authority, stopping dead in the center of the square with a sharp, deliberate halt.

  The air shifts instantly. The murmurs turn into frantic movement as the people who had been ahead of me suddenly break into a sprint—pushing and shoving, desperation flashing in their eyes as they rush toward me, or more accurately… past me.

  I barely have time to step aside as the crowd surges forward like a wave. "Whoa! What the hell?" I stumble back, the boar giving an alarmed oink beside me, clearly not a fan of being nearly trampled.

  The villagers aren’t running from something—they’re running toward the carriage. It’s like they’re magnetized, clawing for whatever false hope that flashy gold symbol promises. Man, is food really this scarce here?

  The carriage door swings open with a slow, theatrical creak. Two armored guards step out first, their polished chest plates reflecting the sunlight like mirrors, followed by a man dressed in velvet robes lined with shimmering gold thread. His posture oozes arrogance, and his smug smile stretches just a little too wide.

  "Citizens of this fine village," the man announces, his voice smooth like oil but twice as greasy. "Remember well the generosity of Aldric Thornveil, your future Baron—and the one true guardian of your prosperity!"

  The crowd cheers weakly, but it’s not excitement—it’s survival.

  I watch silently from the sidelines, gripping the handle of my sword without realizing it. This guy already reeks of trouble.

  "Citizens of this village—" His voice rings out, smooth and dripping with fake charm. But before he can even finish his grand speech, a voice cuts through the air like a blade.

  "IF YOU'RE GONNA TRY TO GAIN A VILLAGE'S TRUST, YOU SHOULD AT LEAST LEARN THE VILLAGE'S NAME!"

  The crowd freezes. It’s like time just stopped, and every head turns toward the source of the outburst. Including mine.

  It’s an older man, rough around the edges with a face carved by years of hardship. His arms are crossed, eyes sharp with defiance—a stark contrast to the fearful expressions around him.

  The guy from the carriage pauses, visibly thrown off for a second. His smile twitches. "Ah… Of course," he says with forced smoothness, trying to recover his composure. "Such passion from the… fine folk of this… humble village." His voice strains to stay charming, but there’s an undertone of irritation now.

  I can't help but smirk. Guess not everyone's buying what he's selling.

  The villagers start murmuring again—this time, not in desperation but in curiosity. The tension shifts ever so slightly.

  The man's eye twitches before he quickly redirects, raising his arms dramatically. "Regardless, let this feast be a symbol of my goodwill! May you remember who truly supports you in your times of need!"

  Yeah, real smooth cover-up there, buddy.

  I glance at the old man who shouted—his jaw is tight, eyes narrowed, but there’s a hint of satisfaction in his expression.

  Okay, I think to myself,

  Before I can even react, someone from behind Aldric moves—fast. A blur cutting through the crowd like a knife through butter, silent and terrifyingly efficient.

  And suddenly—cold steel kisses my throat.

  A dagger.

  My breath catches in my chest. I don’t even have time to process how they got behind me so quickly. The blade presses just enough to remind me that one wrong move means game over.

  "Don't move if you wanna die… Demon."

  The voice is low, rough, and deadly serious. I catch a glimpse of the guy from the corner of my eye—middle-aged, with sharp eyes that scan like a hawk and a soldier’s build. His grip doesn’t shake.

  Wait. Demon?

  The crowd pulls back instinctively, leaving me isolated in a wide, silent circle. Murmurs ripple through the villagers like a spark through dry grass.

  Shit, shit, shit—

  "I-I think you’ve got the wrong guy, man," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

  The soldier leans in closer. "I can feel it. That cursed aura around you. You think you can hide it?" His voice drops into a dangerous whisper.

  Damn it, Zareth said the demonic presence would be faint!

  Out of the corner of my eye, Aldric watches with interest, that smug grin creeping back onto his face.

  Okay, Eli. Think fast. How the hell are you getting out of this one?

  My heart pounds like a war drum. Okay, Eli. Think. Think.

  "I-It’s not what you think, okay? I’m not here to hurt anyone!" I stammer, trying to raise my hands slowly—big mistake.

  The dagger presses in deeper, just enough to draw a bead of blood. Shit, that actually stings!

  "Stay still!" The soldier’s voice is like iron slamming shut. His grip tightens. "One wrong move, and I'll carve that cursed aura right out of you."

  The crowd watches in tense silence, eyes wide with fear—and maybe a little hope that I am some kind of threat.

  I need a way out. Fast.

  Suddenly—OINK!

  The boar. The fat, ridiculous boar that Zareth dumped me with comes charging through the crowd like a bowling ball with legs. It barrels into the soldier with a solid thud, sending both of us sprawling to the ground.

  I hit the dirt hard, rolling just enough to avoid getting crushed. The dagger clatters away.

  "What the—?!" The soldier scrambles to his feet, glaring daggers at the boar.

  "Yeah, that’s right! Get him, uh… Porky!" I shout, though the boar just oinks indignantly at the terrible name.

  I don’t wait for round two. I spring up and grab the dagger off the ground, flipping it in my hand. The soldier lunges forward, but this time—I’m ready.

  I sidestep and slam the hilt of the dagger into his gut. He staggers back, winded.

  "Look, man," I grit out, keeping my stance low and ready, "I don’t want to fight you. I just want to prove I’m not some threat, alright?"

  But the look in his eyes says he’s not convinced.

  Aldric’s smug voice cuts through the chaos. "Enough."

  The crowd parts as Aldric strides forward, hands behind his back, that condescending smile plastered across his face.

  "Let’s not waste such… entertaining potential, shall we?" He gestures lazily toward me. "You want to prove yourself, stranger? Then how about a little trial?"

  The tension thickens around me like fog.

  Great. Just what I needed. Another test.

  But what choice do I have?

  "Fine," I spit out, tightening my grip on the dagger. "Bring it on."

  Aldric’s smirk widens, eyes glinting with amusement—as if he’s already won. "Good. I admire... confidence." His voice drips with smug satisfaction. "Let’s make this simple. You win, and I’ll believe you're no threat. You lose… well, let’s just say the village won’t have to worry about you anymore."

  The soldier from earlier cracks his knuckles and steps forward, fire burning in his eyes. Of course, it’s him.

  Okay, Eli. You’ve faced worse… No, actually, I haven’t. But hey, no pressure.

  The crowd forms a shaky circle around us. Every eye is locked on me. Some look hopeful, others terrified—most just want a show.

  The soldier lunges. Fast.

  I barely sidestep in time, his fist grazing my shoulder like a freight train. I stumble but recover quickly, holding the dagger between us like a weak shield.

  I need an opening—anything.

  He charges again. This time, I duck under and jab toward his ribs. The blade connects, but it’s shallow—barely enough to faze him.

  "You're slow," he growls.

  "Yeah, well, you smell like old cheese!" Really, Eli? That’s your comeback?

  His fist comes flying toward my face. I twist just in time, feeling the wind of the punch rush past me. I slam my foot into his knee—solid hit—but he barely flinches.

  Suddenly—OINK!

  The boar barrels into him from the side, knocking him off balance. I seize the opportunity and dive forward, slamming my shoulder into his chest. We hit the ground hard, and the dagger presses dangerously close to his neck.

  "I don’t want to hurt you!" I snap, breath heavy and heart racing. "But I will fight back."

  For a second, just a heartbeat, the soldier hesitates—then his expression twists in frustration.

  "Enough," Aldric’s voice cuts through the air again, sharp and cold. "The fight is over."

  I release the soldier and scramble to my feet, panting. My muscles ache, my hands are shaking, but... I’m still standing.

  The crowd is dead silent.

  Aldric steps forward, slow and deliberate, eyes narrowed. "Impressive... For someone who clearly doesn’t belong here."

  The boar shuffles beside me, letting out a soft oink, like a proud sidekick.

  I glare back at Aldric, gripping the dagger tighter. "So? Did I prove myself yet?"

  He smiles—a slow, dangerous thing. "For now. But don’t get comfortable, stranger. The real challenges are yet to come."

  Great. Just what I needed. A noble with a god complex and a village that thinks I’m cursed. Perfect start, Eli. Just perfect.

  I keep my head low, slipping through the narrow gaps between the gathered villagers. Their whispers crawl along my skin like cold fingers.

  "Did you see his eyes? Definitely cursed..."

  "That thing he was with—no normal creature acts like that."

  Yeah, great. Just what I need—more paranoia.

  The further I get from the square, the quieter it becomes. The houses here look older, worn down by time and neglect. Perfect—less people, fewer eyes on me.

  I glance back—no one’s following. Good.

  Now, I just need to figure out what the hell I’m doing here before someone else tries to stab me.

  The boar trots beside me like an oversized shadow, snorting occasionally like it knows something I don’t.

  "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You saved my butt back there." I sigh and rub the back of my neck. "But if you’re here to babysit me, maybe give me a heads-up next time before I almost get gutted?"

  It just oinks and keeps walking, completely unfazed.

  I finally stop near a rundown well on the village outskirts. No one’s around—just the wind and the creak of old wood.

  I sit down on a stone, burying my face in my hands. Okay, think, Eli. You’re stuck in human territory, accused of being cursed, and your only ally is a glorified walking ham sandwich. Fantastic.

  "How am I supposed to survive this?" I mutter under my breath.

  The boar nudges my arm gently with its snout.

  "...You’re not so bad, you know that?"

  It snorts like it agrees, then plops down next to me with a heavy thud.

  I glance toward the darkening sky. I need a plan—and fast—before things get worse. And knowing my luck, they definitely will.

  I raise my sword, feeling the unfamiliar weight settle into my hand. "I haven't even used this thing yet… and honestly? I really don't plan to." I let out a frustrated groan. "Ugh! This sucks!"

  The blade catches a glimmer of the fading sunlight, but instead of looking cool or heroic, I probably just look like a guy completely out of his depth—which, let’s be real, I am.

  I glance down at my clothes, grimacing. Torn, dirt-streaked, and practically screaming ‘Hey, look at me, I just crawled out of a disaster!’

  "Great. Not only do I need new clothes, but I also need to figure out how the hell to scrub off this demonic presence thing before someone else tries to take my head off."

  The boar—yeah, still my only companion—snorts beside me, like it's mocking my entire existence.

  "Yeah, yeah, I get it," I mumble, lowering the sword and rubbing my temple. "You’re living your best life while I’m over here looking like I lost a fight with a tornado."

  I sheath the sword with an awkward clink and start trudging back toward the village. Okay, Eli. First, find some clothes that don’t make you look like a villain. Then, figure out this demonic aura situation. Preferably without getting stabbed again.

  The boar follows lazily behind me, each step sounding like it couldn’t care less about my growing to-do list.

  "Y'know, for a creature that's supposed to help, you're seriously lacking in motivational speeches."

  It oinks.

  "Yeah, yeah, motivational oinks. Got it."

  Well, for the rest of the night, I managed to "buy" new clothes—definitely didn’t steal them. Nope. Not at all.

  The fabric is rough, cheap, and definitely not my style, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers when they’re being hunted for having an unwanted demon vibe. The shirt’s plain, the pants actually fit, and—most importantly—I don’t look like a walking disaster anymore. Small wins.

  And the demonic presence? Oh, yeah. Handled that too. Genius solution, really. I snuck into the church (very respectfully, of course) and dipped a bandage into some holy water. The result? A makeshift blindfold.

  Tying it around my eyes, I half expected to go full-on blind. But nope. I can still see.

  Must be the demon eye doing its thing.

  The weirdest part? It’s not normal sight either—it’s like I can sense everything around me. Shapes outlined in faint glows, like the world’s running on night vision, but crisper, clearer. Every movement, every shift in the air, it’s all there.

  "Great. Now I look like some edgy wannabe hero with my super-cool blindfold," I mutter under my breath, adjusting it for the tenth time.

  The boar lets out an unimpressed oink from the corner of the room, probably judging me harder than anyone else could.

  "Don’t start with me, Porky. You didn’t exactly help with the whole shopping situation either."

  It just snorts and flops onto the ground like it owns the place.

  I let out a long sigh, leaning back against the wall. Okay, Eli. Clothes? Check. Demonic aura covered? Double check. Now… just survive the night and figure out what the hell to do next.

  One problem at a time.

  "I guess we're sleeping under this tree, Porky. Nothing we can do about it."

  Oink!

  I pat the boar’s side as it flops down beside me, its body surprisingly warm against the cold night air. The grass isn’t exactly a bed, but after the chaos of today, I’ll take what I can get.

  "I guess we should leave the village first thing tomorrow…" My voice trails off as my stomach betrays me with a low, miserable growl. "Great. Forgot I need to eat… Figures."

  I lean back against the rough bark of the tree, staring at the stars poking through the leaves. They’re different here—brighter, unfamiliar constellations scattered across the sky.

  So much for an adventure, huh? Summoned by a demon lord, nearly gutted by a soldier, and now starving under a tree with a fat boar for company.

  I close my eyes, exhaustion pulling me down like an anchor.

  "Yeah… tomorrow. We’ll figure things out then."

  With that, the day finally comes to an end. Thankfully