As soon as the stranger drew near, the female elf's ears gave a subtle twitch. Without hesitation, she raised her longbow, the arrow nocked upon it crackling with silver-white lightning, and aimed straight at the intruder.
"Who?!" Her voice rang coldly. "Come out!"
A man in a black overcoat, wrapped in a scarf and wearing a hat, appeared out of thin air. He looked to be in his twenties. Removing his hat with a slight nod, he said, "My lady, I mean no harm. I've only come on behalf of a friend, to find someone."
Yet the elf, Siatas, did not lower her guard in the slightest. The arrow, glowing with electric light, still pointed unwaveringly at Edward.
"Find who?"
"Mobet Zoroast."
Siatas arched her brows. That name was one she could not possibly be unfamiliar with. Over the years, the two had squabbled and bantered, and somewhere along the way, feelings had begun to take root. They had even tried being together once, though it had always ended with Mobet fleeing in embarrassment.
Because of that, anyone who came seeking Mobet was far more likely to win her goodwill—so long as they were a friend, and not an enemy.
"How did you come here? You say you're here on behalf of a friend to find Mobet Zoroast. Who is this friend of yours? And for what purpose are you seeking him?"
Edward gave a weary shiver and said helplessly, "My lady, could you at least let me inside first? I nearly froze to death just making it here."
Her tone remained icy. "I don't believe for a moment that a wandering spirit fears the cold. If you refuse to answer my questions, you'll either leave immediately, or be treated as my enemy."
At that moment, heavy thuds echoed from within the cavern, and a massive figure emerged, his voice resonating like a drum:
"Siatas, what's the matter?"
It was a giant nearly four meters tall, his skin tinged a greyish-blue. His chest, belly, and hips were wrapped in thick beast pelts, while the rest of his massive body was bare. He leaned upon a broadsword wider than a human door, his single vertical eye gazing down at Edward as his deep voice rumbled:
"Who are you? Why have you come to Groselle's camp?"
This was none other than the protagonist of the travelogue, Groselle himself—a giant of courage, justice, and kindness.
"Greetings, Mr. Giant," Edward said politely. "I am a friend of Mobet Zoroast's great-grandfather. At his request, I've come here to find Mobet and take him safely away from this place."
Siatas immediately asked, "Take him where?"
"Why, to leave this world, of course—to return to the outside."
Groselle tilted his head, puzzled. "The outside? Why would you take Mobet out into the cold, away from the warmth of the cave?"
But Siatas understood the implication in Edward's words. "You…you're from the outside as well?"
"Of course."
She hesitated. Though she still could not determine whether this man was friend or foe, it seemed likely that he had indeed entered this world of his own volition. If that was the case, perhaps he really did have a way to leave.
At that moment, a voice called out from deeper within:
"You truly were sent by my great-grandfather to find me?!"
The speaker was a man in his thirties with a strange, unsettling appearance. He wore a sharp, stiff black hat; the buttons on his coat were fastened unevenly; and though his face was rather handsome, it was filled with wariness.
"Why didn't he come himself," Mobet demanded, "and instead sent someone else to help?"
"Well," Edward said with a shrug, "he wanted to, but the circumstances wouldn't allow it."
"Then…do you have any proof that he really sent you? Something like a token, perhaps?"
Edward was momentarily taken aback. "No…wait."
He pulled out the Worm of Time. "Would this count?"
"!!!"
Mobet's pupils shrank. Whatever he recalled in that moment made his expression visibly panic. His voice trembled:
"You…what did you do to him?!"
"…"
So this kid thinks I must have done something to old man Pallez in order to seize the Worm of Time, huh?
Mobet suddenly stepped forward, moving to shield Siatas with his own body. His voice was firm, his expression serious:
"Please…please leave here at once. Otherwise, we will not show mercy."
Edward couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of that face, which bore such a strong resemblance to old man Pallez.
"Oh? And how exactly would you 'not show mercy'?"
"Of course, we would—"
Edward suddenly grinned before the words could leave Mobet's mouth.
"If I were to take out a monocle and put it on right now, would you still dare to 'not show me mercy'?"
Mobet's expression froze at once.
Siatas seized him by the ear and yanked him aside, frowning with irritation. "Since when did I need you to protect me? You think you're even capable of protecting me?"
"Ah—ow, ow, ow!"
With a heavy thud, Groselle planted his enormous sword into the ground and asked seriously, "Mobet, is he an enemy?"
"N–no." Mobet shouted quickly. By then, he had realised how foolish his earlier "threat" had been. If this man truly had the ability to harm the old man, then their little team of five didn't stand a chance at all.
If it really were Amon…well, they might as well lie down and wait for the end.
Edward tucked away the monocle. "Alright, no more jokes. I truly am here at Pallez's request to find you. If you don't believe me, I'll call him over later so you two can recognise each other—how about that?"
"Don't just stand there—outside's freezing. Come on in."
Suddenly, Edward's voice drifted from inside the cavern behind them. When they turned back, the spot where he had stood was already empty.
All three started in alarm and hurriedly dashed back into the cave.
Inside the spacious, drafty cavern, two figures sat crouched on either side of a blazing fire that radiated both light and warmth. One was a middle-aged man in an austere white robe, eyes closed in devout prayer. The other was a young man clad in heavy, resilient black full armour, a coldly gleaming straight sword thrust into the ground at his side.
The moment they noticed a stranger had appeared within the cave, both men tensed and rose at once, their gazes sharp and wary. Within moments, the other three rushed in after them, surrounding Edward in the middle from inside and out.
None, however, made a rash move.
Tch. I should've claimed to be another adventurer who'd been inexplicably dragged here, like them. That might've earned me their trust more easily.
If it comes down to it, I can always force them to recite the three-part incantation. After all, saving them is more about completing the ritual—and perhaps resolving the regret from the original story—than about making friends with them.
"Everyone," Mobet spoke up then, "let me talk to Him first."
Aside from Groselle, the others were no fools. At once they caught on that Mobet had deliberately used "Him" as a pronoun. That alone was enough to hint at the stranger's identity. Their wariness only deepened, yet at the same time, none dared act recklessly.
"Mr…"
"Sparrow," Edward said lightly.
"Mr. Sparrow," Mobet nodded.
Edward waved a hand, reshaping the stones on the ground into six single-seat sofas—one of them enormous—and conjuring a ring of torches upon the walls. The cave's temperature rose noticeably at once.
"Please, sit."
Except for the ascetic monk, the others exchanged glances before lowering themselves, suspicion still in their eyes.
And indeed, the plush, warm sofas were far more comfortable than the icy, unyielding ground or bare rock.
"Are you from Loen?" the armoured youth suddenly asked in a muffled voice. "It's been a long time since I've seen sofas of this style."
Mobet hesitated before introducing him. "This is Frunziar. He claims to be a soldier from Loen…though none of us have ever heard of such a nation."
Of course not. You four are all originally from the Fourth Epoch and earlier.
But as Edward carefully recalled this so-called Loen soldier, Frunziar, he found himself startled. If he remembered correctly, Klein had once noted that Frunziar had been missing for about 160 years when he entered the Groselle's Travels. Yet the current time inside the book was 190 years later (1160 to 1350). That meant…
If Frunziar were to leave now, the outside world would actually be his past. At this point in the timeline, he might not even have been born yet—or at most, he would be a small child.
So even if he made it out intact, he could not return to his family until nearly thirty years later—when his "future self" went missing.
After a moment of visible daze, Frunziar gathered himself again. "Do you know the Edward family in Backlund?"
Uh.
Edward. What a common name.
"There are a lot of Edwards in Backlund," Edward answered dryly.
Frunziar quickly added, "The Edward family at 18 Delaher Street, northwest district."
"I'm afraid I wouldn't know. Once you're out, you can check for yourself."
Frunziar fell silent for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly. "I don't know how much time has passed outside, but it must have been a long time. Most of the time, I was asleep here. It's as if time itself is frozen in this place. But outside, I fear it may already be…"
Edward thought for a moment, then said, "Sometimes things aren't always as bad as you think."
"Cough, cough."
Mobet cleared his throat, giving Frunziar a pointed look: We still don't know whether he's an enemy or not—why are you chatting with him like that?
"Mr. Sparrow," Mobet asked carefully, "how is my great-grandfather now?"
Edward blinked. "Shouldn't you be calling him 'the old man'?"
"!!!"
Mobet's pupils quivered. Within the Zoroast family, only those especially close to his great-grandfather, those truly favoured by him, knew of that nickname.
The instant he heard it, Mobet's vigilance toward Edward dropped by more than half. His tone softened, tinged with nostalgia. "Yes… t's been so many, many years since I last used that name. So…how is he now?"
"To be frank," Edward said, "his condition is poor. He's only half a step away from falling."
"That's impossible!" Mobet blurted. "The old man—he's a Sequence 1 angel!"
"Mm. After being hunted by Amon for thousands of years, the fact he's still alive at all is already remarkable."
"Amon…" Mobet's body gave an involuntary shudder. For a child of the Zoroast line, that name was no different from the "big bad wolf" in children's tales—used to frighten him with lines like 'Behave, or Amon will come for you,' or 'Eat your food, or Amon will eat you instead.'
"And what about the rest of the Zoroast family?" Mobet asked anxiously. "If the old man has been hunted for so long, what's become of everyone else?"
Edward replied calmly, "Oh, you really don't need to worry about that."
Mobet let out a breath of relief.
"Because the Zoroast family was annihilated not long after Pallez was first hunted."
"???"
"You and Pallez are the only two who remain of the Zoroast family."
"???"
"And unless something unexpected happens, you won't be alive much longer, either."
"??????"
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.