Amidst the fallen, their stories etched in bone, Fynlo traces the echoes of ancient battles and tragedies. His gaze sweeps over the scattered remains—small, fragile, and haunting.

  Kneeling beside a child’s skull, his gloved fingers trace the cracks. Sharp eyes, honed by years of unraveling mysteries and staying vigilant in battle, narrow with focus. But this scene—the scattered remains of children—is unlike anything he's encountered before.

  Nearby, Prince Sansum paces, eyes darting from skeleton to skeleton. “Fynlo,” he says, voice tight, “is he here? The boy you've been searching for?”

  Fynlo rises, brushing dirt from his armor. “Hard to say,” he replies. “No hint of any cloth or artifact from the Empire. Some wear La Komenco clothing—the native attire. But others…” He gestures towards a heap of foreign-clad bones. “These children seem like outsiders. La Komenco natives aren't known for wearing sarongs.”

  Sansum raises his eyebrows. “Outsiders? But how? La Komenco was isolated during the war. Bandits attacked the walls, breached the defenses."

  "It's possible bandits brought them here," Fynlo ponders.

  "To fight?" Sansum frowns in disbelief.

  Fynlo nods, pointing at the weapons and shields.

  Rando whistles. "Jesus... Didn't expect this tutorial mission to get so dark."

  Fynlo shoots him an incredulous look, but chooses to continue observing instead of arguing. “Their numbers don’t add up. Many are missing."

  "How can you tell?" Sansum asks, his voice tinged with concern.

  "This area has only one adult skeleton. Yet, the number of weapons and shields is about a quarter more than the children’s skeletons." Fynlo pauses. "Either those children ran away frightened, or..."

  Sansum nods in understanding. "...or they were evacuated. Or taken by force.” His hands clench in silent fury before relaxing again. "I can only imagine the bandits’ plan. Using children as Trojan horses to breach the defenses, lowering the guard of their enemies before they..." He trails off, then goes on a tangent. "Using children as soldiers is detestable."

  Fynlo’s voice drops to a whisper as he points towards a corridor. "The surviving children must have taken the path through the Alchemy Room. If memory serves right, the Alchemy Room was the last stop for all Outworlders before they exit La Komenco to begin their adventures."

  "Hmm, the lair of the infamous witch and potioneer..." Sansum muses, his feet following his gaze towards the shadowed corridor, with Rando trailing like a kite on a thread. "Her strength, magic, and health regeneration potions have yet to be surpassed."

  Rando frowns. "So you're saying I'm shit out of luck, being the tardy titan that I am?"

  "Tarte tatin?" Nora blinks in confusion before her stomach growls. She gets angry and hisses. "I hate you now!"

  "Don't eat my face now," Rando snickers softly before small dark footprints appear from nowhere, leading him further into the middle of the room. "Huh...?"

  Shelves lie shattered, pages scattered, and broken vials litter the floor. Parts of the walls are ashen black, and stone debris breaks the space. Yet, the dark footsteps lead towards the center of the room, where a single adult skeleton, draped in feminine robes tainted with dust, soot, and dried blood, remains.

  Sansum shakes his head. "What a cruel end to the great potioneer..."

  Before Fynlo can speak, Rando interjects. "Tut! Let me handle this, Sherlock Holmes."

  He clears his throat, walking confidently around the corpse, eyes stern and observant. In an astonishing display of apparent sagacity, his voice adopts an air of profound, albeit misplaced, wisdom. By which, I mean, he sounds pretentious.

  "Judging by the size of the footprints, the person was indeed a child," Rando explains the obvious, ignoring Fynlo's eye-rolling. "At first glance, it may look like the child walked to the center of the room, turned into the adult potioneer, and died. But eyes can be deceiving! There's a gaping hole in the clothes, and despite the size of the dried blood splatter on the ground, not a single drop followed the footsteps. The injury was caused precisely on this spot. In other words," he pauses for dramatic effect, "the child and the potioneer were two different people! One of the child soldiers sneaked into the chamber and killed the potioneer!"

  As expected, there is no gasp or applause for his brilliant deduction. Only an exasperated sigh from Nora and the two other men exchanging incredulous glances. Fynlo rubs his forehead in exhaustion.

  "You are probably unaware, but this woman was Alejandra, La Sabia de las Maravillas," Sansum explains patiently. "It's impossible for a mere child to defeat her."

  Rando bites his lip. "Maybe the kid was just really good at sneaking? Like, really good?"

  Fynlo questions. "If so, then why were the child's feet blood-soaked? Why did the footprints abruptly begin from the middle of the path? And where did the child go after that? Where's the evidence of their escape?"

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Rando furrows his eyebrows. "Maybe the kid knew how to teleport."

  Sansum smirks, voice tinged with sarcasm, "This child must have been quite the experienced mage then."

  Rando shrugs. "Look, it ain't that deep. This is a fantasy world, right? Anything's possible. I was just attacked by a freaky masked kid with shiny bombs. Maybe this murderer was the same kind. Or maybe Alejandra took pity on them and vanished them before her last breath."

  "Occam's Razor. The simplest explanation is usually the best one," both Nora and Fynlo say simultaneously. The unusual synchronicity startles Nora.

  Fynlo continues, "Just because the footprints point towards the dried blood does not mean the child was walking towards it. The footprints emerge from it as if stained when the potioneer was killed. As for why they disappear in the middle... Rando is right about teleportation magic, but it likely wasn't the child who performed it."

  Fynlo points around the room. "There are signs of struggle, even though there is only one corpse. Some glass jars and vials aren't just shattered but melted. With her control over three elements, Alejandra likely fought hard until the final blow. This was no ordinary foe. No bandit could take her out this way." He gently moves the skeleton, "There's a gaping hole through her dress's abdomen. Her lumbar's broken, and the hole is too large for even the biggest sword."

  He walks alongside the footprints backward. "The child must have been with her from the start. The moment she was killed, the child must have been shocked, backing away slowly in terror. Until..."

  "...until someone vanished them out of here," Sansum completes. "Possibly trying to save the child." Noticing something glittering under the skeleton, he retrieves it. "I think I know who killed her. Now it makes sense." He tosses the trinket to Fynlo.

  "Who dat?" Rando's eyes widen in curiosity.

  Fynlo examines the half-bracelet. "The leader of the Pindari. The Mad Sovereign."

  Rando furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "Who?"

  They ignore his confusion and head straight to the exit. Seeing the corridor clear of skeletons, Fynlo sighs in relief.

  "There's one thing I've never understood, Your Highness," he murmurs softly. "The Mad Sovereign has caused mayhem across the world in the last ten years alone. Yet this small peninsula has seen relative peace by comparison."

  "It's his home turf, after all," Sansum answers, his eyes adjusting to the sunlight as they exit the gloomy fortress.

  "That makes things all the more complicated, doesn't it?" Fynlo looks from the hill toward the vast verdant lands surrounded by the ocean. "As much as he must pay for his crimes, executing him here—if it's even possible—could destabilize Narcisoj. The innocents who live here might become casualties of collateral damage."

  "That assumes this peace isn't forged by fear and tyranny, which it likely has been. The heathen is much like the Dark Lord's minions, and so he might as well die like a minion," Sansum explains. Noticing Fynlo's silent distress, Sansum shoots him an assuring smile. "But you're right. Which is why I've taken it upon myself to fortify Fervolbo Keep. In case of a power vacuum, the Imperium Aurorae shall take control and restore order here. If war breaks out, I will ensure no innocent lives are lost in the process. You have my word."

  Rando circles to intercept their path before they can leave. "Sounds like a hell of a beginner's quest!" He traces an invisible bold news headline. "Hero appears out of nowhere in a ruined castle, saved by a Paladin and his Prince. He starts from Zero, works hard to be a Hero, and the three slay the foreshadowed tyrant bandit like the Three Musketeers. We'll call ourselves PPP. The Prince, the Paladin, and the—"

  "Prick?" Fynlo suggests.

  "Our partnership will be legendary!" Rando grins for a moment, then frowns as the jab registers.

  Sansum smirks. "Like every adventurer, you may first have to prove your might to us, wouldn't you?" He walks past Rando, adding, "Until then, you might want to find someone to mollycoddle you before you lose another pair of breeches."

  As Fynlo silently passes, Rando scowls and follows. "What? You think I can't take on a bunch of bandits? Come on, I fought a pack of high-level monsters and lived. You really think a bunch of bandits can—"

  His tirade is cut short as a thin wire wraps around his neck and drags him backwards with intense force. His voice stuck in his throat, his HP drains rapidly.

  "No!" Nora screams.

  That feminine scream, seemingly coming from Rando's choked lips, stirs something in Fynlo. It should make no sense to him, and yet the voice triggers a feeling he seemed to have long forgotten. His protective instincts take over all rationality.

  "Did he just scream like a woman?" Sansum frowns, drawing his blade. "Fynlo, we're surrounded. Be on your—"

  The words fall on thin air as Fynlo touches the hilt of his sword and bolts after Rando, who is being pulled away at breakneck speed. Literally.

  As Rando's HP rapidly drops to red, time slows. Heartbeat palpitates. Senses heighten. The scene before him melts like clocks in a Salvador Dali painting, and his sense of self feels both hyper-aware and distant. The only thing missing is his life flashing before his eyes.

  Wait a minute. This isn't supposed to happen. It's just a video game. Right?

  Or so he believes. Nora panics and chooses to break her promise. Her hands swiftly reach for Rando's headset.

  In that instant, Fynlo's footwork propels him past Rando like a cheetah striking its prey, cutting the thread dragging him backward. The inertia sends Rando flying into the bushes. Fynlo's vigilant eyes scan the surroundings. He hears a footstep, his gaze flickers towards it, sword ready to strike, causing the hidden figure to hesitate.

  "What a pain," the burly figure mutters, clad in leather armor and a tightly wrapped turban, reeling back his wire and unsheathing his blade. "Just washed my talwar too."

  "Bandits..." Fynlo grunts.

  Without wasting another breath, the bandit whistles aloud. Two other hidden figures run towards Rando. But Fynlo moves quicker. His swift footwork positions him between Rando and the men, his sword glistening in the setting sun, causing them to hesitate. As expected, they aren't foolish enough to face someone like him. Not directly anyway.

  "Cowards. What is your business here?" Fynlo growls.

  The larger bandit grins. "That's what I'd like to ask you, Imperium dog."

  The three bandits fall into rhythm, coordinating their attacks and concealing them behind each other while keeping a safe distance from the mighty paladin. Fynlo parries their darts and stones, then lunges. The third bandit from behind sidesteps to rush towards Rando, causing Fynlo to fall back. Meanwhile, the larger bandit's eyes track his every movement, calculating his reaction time, his speed, and the distance of his attack. He shoots his wire towards Fynlo's neck, which Fynlo parries with ease despite the constant distractions from other attacks.

  Yet, he fails to see two other hidden bandits lurking in the shadows. They lunge at him from the left and right, leaving him wide open for a pincer strike. With blades gleaming and nowhere to escape, Fynlo readies to break his sword one more time while the larger bandit grins triumphantly.