Chapter 88: Ch88 The Forest Road
"What? He’s not here?"
Aithur’s voice sliced through the air like a whip.
He stood tall beside the temple gates, his dark navy noble coat catching the morning light, matching the deep shade of his hair. His gloves, trimmed with sapphire gems, glowed faintly from the irritation pulsing through his veins. Behind him, his carriage waited — its blue crest of the grand duke glinting like a mockery of patience he didn’t have.
The young temple apprentice standing before him swallowed hard. "N-no, my lord. The Saint left two days ago for a trip. He took one of the apprentices with him and... hasn’t returned yet."
Aithur’s jaw flexed. "A trip?"
"Yes, my lord."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. A trip. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"And the old geezers let him leave? Without a word?"
The apprentice’s hands trembled as he replied, "I—I don’t know, my lord. We’ve been waiting for him as well."
Aithur stared for a long moment, his blue eyes narrowing. He wanted to scoff — oh, he wanted to — but instead, he exhaled, his tone forced into civility. "Fine. What about Second Prince Eilan? Has he arrived?"
The apprentice’s head dropped lower. "No, my lord."
"Of course not."
The words left Aithur’s lips like venom. His face tightened, his expression darkening with the kind of frustration that made even the air around him hum with his magic. His sapphire gem glowed brighter on his wrist glove, reacting to his emotion until faint streaks of blue shimmered through the air.
He turned away from the terrified apprentice and muttered under his breath, "Everyone I need either vanished or decided to waste my time. What’s next? The sky catching fire?"
His guard, a tall man in steel-gray armor, cleared his throat carefully. "My lord... what now?"
Aithur folded his arms and gave a humorless chuckle. "We wait. The elders can’t hide forever." He smirked, his tone dropping into a lazy drawl. "And I’m not about to go back to the capital just to come again. I’m not a messenger pigeon."
He turned slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. "Though..." He tilted his head, a gleam of mischief flashing through his eyes. "Perhaps I should pay our traitor a visit instead."
His guard’s brow arched. "You mean—"
"Yes." Aithur’s smirk widened. "That one. At least he’s not boring."
Before his guard could respond, the sound of heavy boots echoed from behind.
The wind stirred.
Aithur turned — and paused.
A woman walked down the cobbled path, each step heavy with irritation. Her dark blue hair was tousled by the breeze, and she was muttering under her breath, hands waving animatedly as if scolding the very air.
"—’Rhyme your words like wisdom,’ he says. ’Speak softly like a lady,’ he says. If Father says one more ridiculous proverb, I swear I’ll—" She stopped mid-sentence.
Her eyes landed on Aithur — and the elegant carriage behind him.
The carefree spark in her gaze dimmed immediately. Her jaw tightened. "Oh. Nobles."
She muttered the word like it was poison, then kept walking, trying to breeze past.
Aithur, however, had turned fully toward her, studying her with that unreadable, calm expression of his.
Their eyes met.
"What?" she snapped, stopping. "What the hell are you staring at?"
For a heartbeat, the temple courtyard was silent — then Aithur’s lips curved upward. Not his usual polite smirk, but something genuine, amused.
"You remind me of someone," he said simply.
Mariana blinked, clearly not expecting that. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"
He tilted his head slightly, his voice light. "A woman with gems who hated me just as much."
Mariana scoffed. "Then she must’ve had excellent taste." She stormed past him without another word, her cloak swishing behind her.
Aithur watched her go, still smiling faintly. "Heh... Liliana all over again," he murmured. "Do all gem-eyed women hate me by nature, or is it just divine fate?"
His guard snorted softly under his breath. Aithur heard it, gave a sharp sideways glance, and the guard straightened instantly.
"Nothing, my lord."
"That’s what I thought."
Aithur’s smile returned, softer this time, though his eyes were distant as he looked up at the crimson-tinged clouds gathering beyond the temple spire. "Well," he muttered, "it seems fate’s moving again."
He turned back to the gates. "Let’s wait for our saint. I’m sure the gods won’t keep their favorite toy hidden for long."
Meanwhile — The Forest Road
The wheels of the carriage creaked to a slow stop. The scent of damp earth and iron filled the air.
"Alright, here we go," the mercenary leader announced as he jumped down from the carriages back, landing with a heavy thud. He leaned in through the carriage’s back curtain and gently lifted Alisa down.
"Careful there, my lady," he said with a grin.
Alisa smiled politely, brushing off the dust from her white robes. Her blonde hair shimmered faintly beneath the red-tinted sky. "Thank you. And thank you all for the ride."
Inside the carriage, Luther remained seated, staring silently at the open path ahead.
The road stretched into a wall of trees — dark, dense, and unnervingly still. The crimson light from the sky bled through the leaves like veins.
Luther’s fingers drummed against his knee. That place feels wrong.
He could feel it — a pulse of energy that didn’t belong, a distortion crawling beneath the soil like rot. His body shivered on instinct.
Beside him, the sword — still tied lazily to his belt — let out a sharp, annoyed hum.
"I don’t like that place," it muttered. "And I’ve lived in hellish dimensions before. That’s red-sky level bad, Luther."
Luther’s eye twitched. "Since when did swords have levels of bad?"
"Since I got stuck with an idiot who keeps walking into cursed places!"
He ignored it.
Outside, the mage approached the carriage
(When the hell did she get there?)
Her long robe fluttering. She peeked in with a nervous pout. "A-are you really going in there?"
Luther raised an eyebrow. "That was the plan."
The mage fidgeted like a scolded child. "But look at that sky! That’s not normal! You could die! Or worse—turn into one of those whispering—"
The mercenary leader grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back gently. "Enough, Misa. They’ve made their choice and its their journey."
"But—!"
"No buts."
She flailed, reaching out desperately. "At least come with us to the capital! It’s safer there and we can go on so much adventures!"
Luther smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh yes, the capital. Home of corruption, scheming nobles, and a bunch of old priests arguing about who’s holier. Sounds very safe."
’And also the main place that the book story revolves around. Yeah.... not interested’ He thought as he got off the carriage.
The mercenary leader snorted, struggling not to laugh. Even the quiet swordsman cracked a grin.
Alisa, however, only giggled softly and shook her head.
Luther met her gaze briefly and sighed. "Don’t encourage me."
"I wasn’t," she said, smiling brighter.
"You were."
"Maybe a little."
"You two sound like a married couple," chimed the swordman lazily.
"Shut it," Luther and Alisa said in perfect unison.
That earned a laugh from the archer, who patted the mercenary leader’s shoulder. "We should go before she decides to curse someone."
The leader nodded, stepping forward. "Take care, you two. If the rumors about Noia Town are true, you’ll need it."
"We will," Alisa replied kindly.
The mage still looked unconvinced, but as the carriage started rolling away, she waved, shouting, "Don’t die! And if you see anything moving—RUN!"
The sound of the wheels faded into the forest wind.
Silence.
Alisa turned to Luther, who was still staring at the forest path. "You really think something’s wrong here?"
Luther didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the trees, on the faint red shimmer that seemed to drip down from the sky like blood.
Finally, he muttered, "The air feels... alive. But not in a good way."
"I told you," the sword grumbled. "This place reeks of blood and bad decisions. Let’s go back."
Luther smirked faintly. "If I avoided every cursed place you whined about, we’d still be stuck inside the temple with a broom and a chicken."
"It was a demonic rooster! It tried to eat me!"
"Sure it did."
"You’re impossible."
"Thank you."
The sword let out a groan that sounded suspiciously like a sigh.
Then the wind shifted.
A cold gust surged from the forest, carrying with it the scent of dust and ash. Leaves scattered, whirling violently around them. Luther and Alisa instinctively covered their faces as the storm passed, their cloaks whipping around their legs.
When it ended, silence returned — too silent.
Alisa coughed, pulling her hood tighter. "That... was strange."
Luther dusted his sleeve. "What kind of wind carries no sound but dust?"
"The creepy kind," the sword muttered. "The kind that whispers, ’turn back before you die.’ You know, that kind."
Luther ignored it again, though his heartbeat had picked up slightly. His magic — usually calm — was trembling beneath his skin. He could feel it, humming angrily like a trapped beast.
The blue crystal on his left ear shook faintly, ringing like a bell.
Something’s here.
He glanced at Alisa. "Stay close. And if you see anything unnatural—"
"I’ll hit it with holy light," she finished for him, already gripping her staff.
Luther smiled faintly. "Good girl."
"Oh, so she gets compliments," the sword huffed.
Luther rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching despite himself. "You talk too much for a sword."
"And you’re too calm for someone walking into a possible death trap."
"I’ve had worse mornings."
"Name one."
"The day I met you."
The sword gasped dramatically. "How dare you—!"
Luther smirked as he stepped forward, ignoring its protests, his boots crunching against the dirt path.
The forest loomed ahead, swallowing the last light of day.
"Ready?" Alisa asked softly.
"No," Luther replied honestly. "But let’s go anyway."
And with that, they entered the shadows of Noia Forest.