Awakening Unknown Fate with a Cry

The Journey of the Dying.

Four words spoken by Ed, as cold as his hands—Fatenai thought of the vipers of the Territory of Aesop again.

"What are you talking about?" Fatenai looked at him, feigning ignorance, though her palms were slick with sweat and her eyes held a panic she didn't notice.

Ed ignored her question, turned his head, and mounted his horse with swift, elegant movements. He truly looked like a sickly youth, yet his actions were decisive and clean, full of contradictions like his person.

"Don't you want to see your friend? The Wisdom Family wouldn't want you back if they saw how cowardly you've become out here." What was consistent was his deeply uncomfortable way of speaking—who knew how many people this youth had deceived with his misleading appearance and sweet talk?

Fatenai didn't have time for this. Seemingly certain of his words, she stopped talking and mounted her horse with neat movements.

"Wait for me here." Fatenai suddenly heard barking and turned to look. The hunting dog she had almost forgotten was looking at her expectantly—she thought for a moment, then said to it.

The hunting dog circled in place, finally sitting down, as if agreeing to her words.

"You truly are heartless. Perhaps it will encounter wolves in the forest—oh, it has a better chance of survival encountering wolves than you do," Ed said, as if addicted to mocking Fatenai.

Fatenai chose to ignore him, though her tone was confrontational: "Can you leave now? I think if you're any slower, we'll miss this journey?"

"We can go slower. You can't save him anyway," Ed said.

"What exactly do you mean?" Fatenai couldn't help but ask. "Your family hired mages to harm my friend, yet you helped me evade her search when she was looking for me. Are you my enemy or my friend?"

"I thought you were a noble," Ed said as he rode forward. The horse, condensed with magic, made no sound as it galloped through the forest, which Fatenai found somewhat strange—unfortunately, she desperately wanted to reach Wickel's location and paid no mind to this curiosity.

"I am no longer a noble," Fatenai corrected him.

"You were," Ed said.

Ed's words were illogical, yet Fatenai surprisingly understood—nobles have no enemies, nor do they have friends. This youth named Ed Ansendil was reminding her that he was neither enemy nor friend; it depended on whether she was beneficial to his interests.

Clearly, they were on the same boat now, but Fatenai didn't know what kind of boat it was, or how she had gotten on it.

"What exactly..." Fatenai couldn't help but say.

"You talk too much," Ed told her. "You're going to be used anyway, so you might as well get some good sleep."

A great sense of crisis suddenly welled up in Fatenai's heart, yet she felt her mind clouding, and her vision went black...

Ed felt the girl close her eyes and lean against his back—then, with a cold expression, he urged the horse onward.

In a part of the forest, a Stone Platform stood in a grassy clearing—on the dilapidated platform, there was still a relief carving of a goddess. From a distance, people would mistake it for just an ordinary stone.

Clang—!

Wickel's sword fell to the ground. He was covered in blood, retreating step by step to the edge of the Stone Platform—his eyes were like those of a bloodthirsty wolf. Standing on the platform, he surveyed his surroundings—mages clad in cloaks had cornered him here, and one of them stood on the Stone Platform behind him.

He seemed to have no chance of winning, yet in reality, he had already achieved a miracle befitting a commoner. Facing these mages, Wickel stood alone, even managing to injure one of them.

"Auston, let's stop here. Hand over the Eye of Simorely," the leading mage said, holding a long, black wooden staff. He looked up at Wickel, "This item is of no use to you. If you hand it over, the master has promised to spare your life."

"Do you think I would believe your words?" Wickel drew a short dagger from his boot, stretched his shoulders, his bones cracking.

"Your way of speaking is as disgusting as ever," the mage said.

"I think I'm being straightforward. I won't give you the item," Wickel said, raising his arm as if ready to fight the mages to the end.

"Since you show no regard for past favors, I can only lament for Allentia that this world is losing an excellent Forest Hunter... Kill him," the mage said, a fierce glint in his eyes. He signaled to his companions behind him.

The mages began to cast their spells, chanting incantations in turn. Fireballs ignited in their hands, and the roots of nearby trees emerged from the ground—after a brief incantation, they surged towards Wickel!

Wickel, holding his dagger, lunged forward, his dagger pointing at the nearest mage.

"Cast Petrify! Stop him!" The mages' physiques were inferior to these hunters. Being targeted by Wickel's dagger was no good.

The leading mage reacted immediately. Thus, the mage standing on the Stone Platform interrupted their original incantation and switched to another.

But Wickel stopped his advance and turned to run towards the Stone Platform!

"Not good!" The mages only then realized they had been tricked by the cunning Forest Hunter—Wickel had put immense pressure on them, causing his feint to fool all the mages.

Wickel leaped onto the Stone Platform and punched the mage standing on it off the platform. Then, he roughly pulled off the chain around his neck—the necklace was shaped like a golden eye, undoubtedly the Eye of Simorely.

He looked at the mages, mockery in his eyes.

"Stop!" The leading mage realized something was wrong and shouted, but it was too late—the mages watched helplessly as he pressed the Eye of Simorely onto the Stone Platform—there was a small indentation on the platform that ordinary people would never notice, but Wickel knew it like the back of his hand.

A tremor followed. The mages lost their footing, halting their incantations. Then, they watched as pillars of light rose around the Stone Platform, creating a perfect barrier for Wickel, enclosing him within. The mages could no longer cast spells to break through this barrier.

"You'll deplete the Eye of Simorely! Stop!" The leading mage's tone was anxious as he shouted.

Wickel looked at the mage, arms crossed, standing on the Stone Platform with no fear: "Marrison, it's been ten years. You should know what kind of person I am."

Marrison pulled down the hood of his cloak, revealing a square face with a dark, ashen complexion. His expression could only be described as gritted teeth: "Auston, why have you persisted for so long? It's been ten years!"

"The biggest difference between us is," Wickel stared at Marrison, "I never try to change your foolish ideas."

Marrison trembled with anger. He hadn't expected Wickel, at the end of his strength, to do this.

"If that's the case..." Marrison said coldly.

Their conversation was interrupted—the mages, who could sense magic, looked alertly in one direction. Wickel also turned his head in the direction they were looking—a black-haired youth riding a white horse, carrying a girl, burst out of the forest. The white horse moved with agility and fluidity, quickly arriving in the forest clearing.

"Wickel Auston, let's make a deal," the black-haired youth's voice was pleasant, completely disregarding the mages as he looked directly at Wickel.

Wickel didn't look at Ed. His gaze first fell on the unconscious Fatenai, and only then did he look at him, his expression turning even more fierce: "What did you do to her?"

"I just put her to sleep." Ed snapped his fingers, and Fatenai floated gently into the air as he dismounted his horse with ease. "So, let's make a deal. The value of the Eye of Simorely, and a friend."

"Do people like you even understand the value of a friend?" Wickel retorted.

"Mr. Ed..." Marrison felt conflicted, looking at Ed. This was beyond his expectations; Ed wasn't supposed to be part of this operation.

Ed didn't even glance at him. "If you remain as ignorant as you are today, then you and your companions will no longer work for the Ansendil Family. Disperse."

"Mr. Ed..." one of the mages seemed troubled and spoke.

"No... let's go." Marrison waved his companions away. Hearing him, they followed him into the forest. The unaware mages seemed to want to protest, but Marrison whispered beside one of them, "Don't provoke him... the Ansendil freak... he's always so unpredictable..."

Fatenai's head throbbed. She tried to wake herself up in her mind, but she couldn't. Eventually, she felt herself "wake up," only to find herself in a dense fog. So, she kept walking forward, cursing herself mentally.

Why had she so easily believed that black-haired young man? Yet, it was all too clear. He had only wanted to use her from beginning to end. What was this about Wickel's dying journey?

Her face turned ashen, casting a shadow over her already pale complexion.

She dared not think any further. She suddenly quickened her pace, rushing headlong into the thick fog. As she walked, a different scene appeared before her eyes.

It seemed to be a Stone Platform – with Wickel... and Ed.

"Keep your promise," Wickel said to Ed, his voice as if covered in a layer of fog, making it difficult for her to hear.

What were they talking about? Wickel was covered in so much blood; how badly was he injured?

"Allentia will bless you," Ed said.

What was Ed saying? What did he want to do?

Fatenai wanted to rush to them, but she couldn't move at all.

Then she saw Wickel raise the dagger in his hand and stab himself in the chest...

"No—!" Fatenai cried out in terror.