The Weight of Power and Pelts

The sun sits lower in the sky, stretching long golden beams across the hills as we trudge back toward Velia. The afternoon breeze cools the sweat on my skin, but it does little to ease the ache in my muscles.

I adjust the weight of the deer carcass on my shoulder, shifting my grip on the bundle of pelts tied to my hip. Elias, beside me, is faring no better.

We are completely overloaded.

The sheer amount of game we managed to bring down today—rabbits, deer, even a boar—is almost too much to carry.

And yet, somehow, we are doing it anyway.

Barely.

Elias exhales sharply, adjusting the massive bundle of hides and meat strapped across his back. "Okay. This is ridiculous."

I grunt in agreement. "Maybe we should've made two trips."

"You don't say," Elias mutters. His voice is strained, sweat beading along his brow. "But no, you had to be ambitious. 'We can handle it,' he says. 'It's fine,' he says."

I roll my eyes. "I didn't see you stopping me."

"Because you're scary," he deadpans.

I smirk. "Good."

——

We walk in relative silence for a while, save for the occasional grunt of effort or the shuffle of pelts shifting uncomfortably against our backs.

It is exhausting.

But the sheer success of the hunt outweighs the pain.

And eventually, as Velia's rooftops peek over the horizon, Elias speaks.

"So." He exhales. "Let's talk about what happened back there."

I glance at him. "You mean the wolves?"

He nods, adjusting his grip on his polearm. "And the fact that I may or may not have accidentally scared them off with something I don't fully understand."

I hum, considering. "That wasn't just fear, though. That thing—the black sphere—it did something to them."

Elias hesitates. Then, after a beat, he mutters, "Yeah. I think it was my Black Spirit."

The words linger between us.

The Black Spirit.

A term neither of us should know, and yet—he does.

I frown. "How do you know that?"

Elias shifts the weight of his burden with a grunt. "I heard about it before."

I raise an eyebrow.

Elias sighs. "Back in my world, I had a classmate who played Black Desert. He was obsessed. Talked about it all the time. And the one thing he wouldn't shut up about?"

He glances at me.

"The Black Spirit."

——

I listen as we walk, the sounds of Velia drawing closer, the scent of salt and fish mingling with the wild earth still clinging to my skin.

"The Black Spirit," Elias continues, "was supposed to be the thing that granted power. The voice in the dark that made you stronger. That offered you things."

I frown. "Offered?"

Elias nods, his voice quieter now. "According to my classmate, it whispers to you. Encourages you. Pushes you toward hunger, power, and greed. Always there, always waiting. Always… watching."

A shiver crawls down my spine.

I remember the way Elias looked at me after the fight.

The flicker of something hungry in his gaze.

The way the wolves flinched before they even saw him move.

"Do you hear anything?" I ask, watching him carefully.

Elias exhales through his nose. "No. Not yet."

The yet is what unsettles me.

Because he knows.

Knows that it is only a matter of time.

——

Velia's gate comes into view at last, and with it, the relief of knowing we will soon be rid of our burdens.

The streets are busier than before, villagers moving about with baskets of fish, traders setting up crates near the docks, children darting between wooden carts.

And then—

"Oi! That's a lot of game!"

We turn toward the voice.

A large man stands near one of the market stalls, thick arms folded across his chest, a grin stretching beneath his greying beard. His skin is weathered, his clothes worn but sturdy, the scent of leather and spices lingering in the air around him.

I barely have time to respond before he laughs heartily, stepping forward. "Did you two take down an entire forest?"

I adjust my grip on the deer carcass, breath still heavy. "Not quite."

Elias groans, nearly collapsing under the weight of his bundle. "But close."

The man chuckles, eyeing the pelts. "You'll be wanting to trade, then?"

I nod. "Depends on the price."

He grins, stepping toward his stall. "You've come to the right person, then. Joran's the name. Best trader in Velia."

Elias snorts under his breath. "I feel like every merchant says that."

Joran laughs. "And every merchant is a liar, except me."

I like him already.

——

Joran inspects the goods, occasionally muttering to himself. The transaction is smooth, the bartering lively, with Elias stepping in more than once to haggle like a man possessed.

By the time we walk away, our coin pouch is significantly heavier.

And Elias, for all his complaints, looks pleased with himself.

"Told you I'd figure something out," he mutters, tossing the pouch up and catching it.

I roll my eyes, but I smile.

Because for the first time since we arrived here—things feel real.

We hunted.

We fought.

We earned something.

And we survived.

——

As we step away from the market, a woman—short, sharp-eyed, dressed in a dark blue tunic—catches my gaze.

She watches us carefully, her arms crossed, the weight of authority hanging over her presence.

I slow my steps.

She does too.

Then—with a small nod—she speaks.

"You two handle yourselves well," she muses. "Not many come back from the wilds looking that intact."

Elias raises an eyebrow. "And you are?"

The woman's lips curl slightly.

"Seraphine," she says. "I oversee Velia's security. When we need an extra blade, I decide who gets the job."

A fighter. A leader. A gatekeeper to new opportunities.

My pulse quickens slightly.

This is what I was waiting for.

Elias, beside me, hums thoughtfully.

"Sounds like you're offering something," he says.

Seraphine smirks. "Not yet. But maybe soon."

Her gaze lingers on me.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you."

Then, just as quickly as she appeared, she turns—disappearing into the crowd.

——

I exhale, the weight of the moment settling.

Elias watches her go, then nudges me with his elbow.

"Looks like you've got a fan."

I roll my eyes, but I don't deny it.

Because this?

This is a start.

And for the first time—

I feel like I am exactly where I am meant to be.