Chapter 6 - Coerced Abduction (3)

The stench of burnt corpses vibrated from all directions. The rain had somewhat extinguished the flames. Silveryn frowned as she saw a severed ghoul's arm still twitching on the ground.

Silveryn looked around and mentally organized the situation.

The remaining ghouls had fled and didn't seem likely to return for a while. It was fortunate that this wasn't related to black magic, at least for now.

Silveryn approached the collapsed boy on the ground.

She grabbed the boy's collar and dragged him to one side. Then she sat him up, leaning his back against the large meteorite.

The unconscious boy's neck drooped lifelessly. She pushed up his chin with her fingertip to examine his face.

Young.

Matted, shaggy hair. Smooth skin that seemed to have just passed puberty. His unfinished features occasionally hinted at the shape of a handsome man. She checked the boy's forearm and palm. His right arm had decent muscle, and his palm had calluses.

Had he learned swordsmanship?

At such a young age, the boy had fought ghouls in the land of death, wielding a strange sword.

What had called the boy to this land of death that no one had explored? How did he know to come here?

What was that sword he had been wielding?

Silveryn looked at the half-buried meteorite supporting the boy's back.

In its center, there was a deep hole as if something had been stuck in it.

A strange light flickered in Silveryn's eyes as she looked at this.

Although Silveryn had been through thick and thin, even she was utterly confused by this situation.

Silveryn recalled a legend engraved on a scroll stored in the Enmion Grand Library, the Elves' record repository.

The one who received revelation. A sword of light stuck in a meteorite. A man loved by the gods.

And a boy who seemed to have jumped straight out of that legend was sitting in front of her.

How should she take this?

Before reaching a conclusion, there was something she needed to confirm first.

When she removed her hand from his chin, the boy's head dropped down again.

Silveryn stood up and stepped back from the boy. Then she took out her water bottle and sprinkled some water on the boy.

When there was no reaction, she poured all the remaining water in the bottle over the boy's head. Then she threw the empty bottle at the boy's head.

With a dull thud, Silveryn said, "Wake up already."

Only then did the boy shake his head.

"Huh, what?"

The boy who regained consciousness shook his head and looked up. He didn’t seem fully awake yet as he stared at Silveryn with unfocused eyes and an open mouth.

Silveryn put her hands on her hips and glared at the boy, saying, "What are you?"

"...?"

"How did you know to come here?"

The boy closed his eyes tightly and opened them again. He seemed unable to distinguish if this was a dream or reality.

He rolled his eyes around, hesitated, and then opened his mouth, "I saw a star falling."

When Silveryn glared at him without moving, he added one more thing, "And I followed it..."

"You expect me to believe that?"

The boy nodded as if it were obvious.

It was impossible to find this exact location just by seeing the trajectory of a star.

"Can you use magic or sense mana?"

"Not at all."

Silveryn was momentarily speechless at the boy's boldness.

She had met people before who claimed to have received divine revelations. The so-called holy women and apostles. They accomplished reckless things with absolutely nothing, full of self-confidence without any basis.

And she faintly saw the image of those “revelators” overlapping with this boy.

"Alright, let's say that's true. Where do you belong?"

"Until I came here, I was training in metalworking at a workshop in Haman."

"That's not what I'm asking. Where did you learn swordsmanship?"

"I've never learned swordsmanship."

It was an absurd answer.

Considering he had crawled into the land of death on his own, she thought he would have at least learned swordsmanship, but metalworking?

"What about your family?"

"..."

The boy's eyes, which had maintained calmness throughout, wavered for a moment.

Silveryn didn't miss his subtle reaction.

"You don't have a family?"

The boy nodded silently.

The word “family” seemed to stimulate his emotional vulnerability.

The messy puzzle in Silveryn's mind started to fit together bit by bit.

If he had someone he loved or someone who truly cared for him and guided his life's direction, he wouldn't have done such a crazy thing as chasing a star fragment into this land of death.

Now, she understood the boy's reckless behavior that lacked foresight.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen years old."

"Hmm... Good."

The boy tilted his head at Silveryn's ambiguous affirmation.

"Can you show me the sword you were using?"

"..."

"Don't worry, I don't intend to take it. Actually, I'm not even sure if it's possible to take it."

"After I pulled it out of the meteorite and swung it around, I lost consciousness, and the sword disappeared..."

"Try calling it."

"I don't really know how."

"You held and swung it, so it's your sword. If it didn't recognize you as its owner, you wouldn't have been able to even swing it around, let alone hold it."

"..."

Hearing her words, the boy fell into thought for a moment.

Soon after, the boy raised both hands to shoulder height and closed his eyes. After a moment, a sword of pure white light appeared above the boy's palms.

Did he grasp the sensation right after hearing my advice?

The more powerful the sword, the more important the wielder's mindset was in handling it rather than physical strength.

The corners of Silveryn's mouth turned up slightly.

"You learn quickly."

When she touched the blade, her hand passed right through it without any sensation. Silveryn couldn't even touch the sword.

"Hmm..."

Although she didn't show it, it was a fresh shock to Silveryn. She had encountered numerous sword masters and even accompanied those who had reached the realm of sword gods. Among the famous swords that had gone down in history that they wielded, she had never seen a sword of this nature. She had only heard of it in legends.

To think that the owner of this preposterous sword was a 16-year-old boy.

Moreover, this boy seemed to have no particular awareness of how incredible the thing he had obtained was.

The problem was that while there would be many ruffians from all over the continent aiming for such a famous sword, this boy seemed to lack the strength to protect himself.

The boy was in a position too good to die a dog's death. It would be something to make Bern Arnst, the founder of Eternia, lament.

"I've seen enough. You can put it away now."

As soon as she finished speaking, the sword disappeared.

"So you said you don't... belong anywhere, right?"

The boy nodded with a sour expression.

"Your name?"

"It's Damian."

"Do you have a place to return to?"

"I'll go back to Haman, where the workshop I worked at is."

Silveryn responded half-heartedly, avoiding the boy's gaze.

"Haman... Right, it's a quiet and peaceful place."

"...?"

Countless thoughts crossed her mind in a fraction of a second. Silveryn chewed her lips due to internal conflict.

Am I just going to send him home like this?

"Your injuries look serious."

Silveryn took out a potion bottle filled with purple liquid from a small leather bag attached to her waist. She held out the potion bottle as if to give it to the boy, then hesitated for a moment and put it back in the bag.

"If I save your life, what can you give me in return?"

"All I have is that sword and a little money I saved from working."

"What's left is your body."

At the word “body”, Damian's body stiffened for a moment.

"..."

"Do you like getting along with people?"

"...No."

"It would be good for you to get used to it."

Damian mulled over Silveryn's meaningful words, and thinking the situation was not going well, he licked his dry lips.

He seemed to misunderstand that Silveryn expected something of high value from him. Things like status or strong backing that might be useful to have a debt.

In fact, it was the opposite.

The fewer connections or affiliations the boy had, the better it was for Silveryn.

Silveryn took out a piece of parchment from her pocket. She spread it wide open and chanted a spell. Soon after, the parchment was slightly scorched, and characters were engraved.

She handed this parchment to Damian. The content was engraved in ancient characters that the boy couldn't decipher.

"Sign it."

Damian took the parchment and fell into contemplation for a moment.

Yes, all sorts of thoughts must be going through his head.

Silveryn knew that Damian had no other choice.

If Silveryn abandoned Damian here and left, he would undoubtedly be a dead man.

As Damian took a long time holding the parchment, Silveryn sighed and said, "Don't worry. If I had bad intentions, I could have easily made you a puppet without needing this scrap of paper."

Strictly speaking, this wasn't a bill. Rather, it was closer to a contract promising to protect and raise the boy.

"There's no ink, so what should I use..."

Silveryn glanced at Damian's side, blood trickling.

"Ah."

He pressed his index finger firmly on his blood-soaked collar and then wrote his name at the bottom of the parchment.

Silveryn took back the parchment and bit the flesh of her own index finger. Then she signed her own blood next to his.

Silveryn whistled. Then, a sphere flapping its wings rapidly like a bee flew down from the sky in front of her.

She inserted the parchment into the sphere's feet. Soon after, the sphere flew off somewhere in the blink of an eye.

Only then did Silveryn take out the potion from her bag and throw it to Damian.

"Sprinkle it on your wounds. If you sit here reeking of blood, the ghouls will swarm again."

Damian seemed concerned about what was written on the parchment.

"What did I sign?"

"A contract to form a bond."

"What kind of bond?"

"The bond between master and disciple."

The boy's eyes widened like a rabbit's.

Seeming anxious that it might be taken back, he hurriedly poured the potion over his wound area and said:

"Why?"

His attitude became quite serious.

"It's not common to see someone your age slice up ghouls like that."

Damian shook his head.

"That wasn't my power."

Oh ho.

She had seen countless children Damian's age. At this age, they tended to be arrogant and intoxicated with power easily obtained through bloodline or magic tools.

In a situation like this, one might feel chosen and be intoxicated, but Damian drew a firm line.

Silveryn swallowed a satisfied smile inwardly.

It was admirable. The boy knew his limits. Yet he followed the revelation and came to this land of death, taking all those risks with his bare body. From the start, children with such spirit were rare. He was fundamentally different from children raised gently in noble families.

Damian didn't easily let down his psychological guard against her.

"But who are you to take me as a disciple?"

Silveryn swept her long hair, fluttering in the wind, over one shoulder and let it fall towards her chest as she spoke.

"Well."

Silveryn thought about what plausible modifier there was to describe herself in one word.

There were too many modifiers people had given her, but none particularly appealed to her. Many were too embarrassing to say directly with her own mouth.

It was understandable in a way that Damian was wary of her. After all, nothing is more suspicious than someone who shows unconditional kindness in this world.

In Silveryn's mind, there was nothing but that word. The word that could guarantee ability and trust to everyone.

"Have you heard of Eternia Academy?"

At Silveryn's sudden question, Damian froze like a statue.