Journey to Eldermoon Forest Begins!

A hush settled over the courtyard.

Even before the grand doors of the estate swung open, a weight of expectation pressed down on those gathered. Knights straightened, their armor clinking faintly as they adjusted their stances. Seasoned warriors—men who had stared death in the face—lowered their heads in silent reverence. The estate's servants instinctively stepped back, hands clasped before them, eyes cast downward.

And then, she appeared.

Seraphina Stormbane.

The Duchess moved like the tide—smooth, deliberate, and unwavering. Draped in a deep-blue gown embroidered with silver filigree, she was an image of refined authority, each step measured, untainted by hesitation. Her golden hair cascaded in flawless waves, shimmering under the sun as if each strand had been spun from light itself. Even the wind, so bold against others, dared not disturb its perfection.

Her violet eyes swept across the assembled warriors, her lips curving into the faintest smile—a serene, unreadable expression that made men kneel, made servants whisper, and made the world believe they stood in the presence of something divine.

A perfect noblewoman.

A woman beyond reproach.

She radiated kindness, wisdom, and unshakable poise. The younger knights gazed upon her as though she were celestial, while the servants murmured praises of her generosity. Her presence alone demanded devotion.

As her gaze drifted over the gathered knights, she acknowledged each one with the grace of an empress. But when her eyes landed on me, she paused.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through her gaze, subtle yet unmistakable.

I returned the gesture, inclining my head slightly in respect, my own polite smile mirroring hers.

The knights—nearly two dozen of them—stood in rigid formation, their polished silver armor gleaming beneath the midday sun. Their leader, a broad-shouldered man with the bearing of a war-hardened soldier, stepped forward. His movements were precise, measured—like a man who understood the weight of duty.

He knelt before the Duchess, bowing his head.

"Greetings, Your Excellence," he said, voice steady as steel. "All preparations for the expedition are complete. With your permission, we will depart at once."

Seraphina nodded with practiced elegance. "Proceed."

Her voice carried warmth—an illusion of familiarity. The voice of a ruler who inspired loyalty. A voice designed to soothe, to reassure.

As she continued speaking with the commander, my gaze wandered across the crowd. Servants, knights, and estate workers stood in quiet anticipation. Some murmured amongst themselves, others simply watched.

Then, I saw her.

Daisy.

She wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were locked onto the Duchess, her expression unreadable.

Beside her stood Rose, barely half her size, her big, curious eyes darting between the knights. I made a subtle hand gesture—a quiet greeting.

The moment she noticed, her expression lit up, a wide, innocent smile breaking across her face as she mimicked the motion.

A chuckle almost escaped me.

But then, the lightness faded.

Someone was missing.

My gaze swept through the crowd again, unease creeping in with each passing second.

Clara.

The first person I had met after transmigrating. The one who had suffered the most. The one person I owed the most.

No matter where I looked, she was nowhere to be found.

A bitter sigh escaped me.

I thought I had changed something. I thought I had left a mark.

I was wrong.

I exhaled sharply, steadying myself as my focus returned to the Duchess.

Beside her stood Selene, mirroring her mother's regal poise. Her long, silken white hair—faintly tinged with violet—cascaded over her shoulders like woven moonlight. A delicate black choker adorned her slender neck, its deep purple gemstone catching the midday light like an ominous star. She looked untouchable. Distant.

To Selene's right stood Edric, a towering wall of muscle encased in black armor. His expression remained unreadable, but his sheer presence radiated discipline. He didn't need to glare at me—his existence alone was a warning.

And then there was Evan—my so-called "human shield." He watched everything unfold with the excitement of a festival-goer, his smirk practically inviting trouble.

Before I could remark on his amusement, the Duchess finished speaking to the commander and turned her gaze toward me and walked in my direction.

Her knights flanked her like living statues. The estate's head butler followed closely behind, his mere presence reinforcing her authority. Straightening my posture, I lowered my head in a respectful bow. "Greetings, Duchess. I trust you are well."

Her violet eyes studied me for a moment, then she smiled—soft, unreadable.

"Greetings, Nathan. Selene has informed me of your contributions. You have done well."

Her tone was warm. Kind. Almost motherly.

I forced a modest smile. "It was nothing, Duchess. I only wish to support my sister."

Her gaze lingered for half a heartbeat longer than expected. Her eyes, sharp as ever, widened just slightly—an imperceptible reaction, yet telling.

"Oh, how you've changed," she mused, her voice laced with intrigue. Then, after a pause, "I hope your venture proves meaningful."

"I appreciate your kind words, Duchess," I replied smoothly, the mask never slipping.

With that, she turned away, moving on to inspect the gathered personnel.

Lies.

If I hadn't played the game, I might have fallen for her act.

To the world, she was the perfect noblewoman—graceful, disciplined, a paragon of virtue. Admired. Revered. Loved.

But I knew better.

Her kindness was a veil. A masterpiece of deception woven with practiced ease.

A great actor, indeed.

Once her inspection was complete, the commander mounted his horse, signaling the beginning of our journey.

Selene had her own private carriage, a luxurious contraption pulled by two imposing warhorses. Our expedition group consisted of twenty highly trained knights—each handpicked for their skill—along with Edric and his squad of assistant knights. We also had two healers—a middle-aged man and a young woman dressed in pristine white priest robes—and a single mage, draped in deep blue robes embroidered with arcane sigils.

The knights took formation, flanking the carriage from both sides, while the healers and mage positioned themselves closer to Selene's protection.

I, on the other hand, made a calculated decision—I moved toward the rear of the formation, sticking close to Evan.

It was the safest spot. Far from prying eyes.

Of course, I wasn't naive enough to think Edric wouldn't notice. He sneered in my direction as I passed, his disdain practically radiating off him. He had taken position near Selene's carriage, ensuring her safety personally.

Does it really take this many knights to retrieve a single artifact?

Yes. Yes, it does.

The Deathsong Amulet was an ancient relic, a treasure of immense power and rarity. In this world, the number of Ancient Items a noble family possessed directly determined their strength and status.

And, of course, our rivals wanted it too.

This wasn't just a retrieval mission—it was a power play. A declaration of dominance.

Still, there was one thing I couldn't wrap my head around. If Selene herself was leading this operation, it meant she already had a strong lead on the amulet's location. She wouldn't waste her time otherwise.

So then, why was I here?

Even though I informed her about this and volunteered myself to help provide the location. But I couldn't help but feel unease.

She was far too calculating, far too cunning, to involve me without reason.

Was I just a disposable pawn in her plans? A test subject? Or was she keeping me close for another reason entirely?

This only complicates my situation further.

I ran my fingers through my hair, frustration simmering beneath my calm exterior. The deeper I thought about it, the more I realized how fragile my position truly was.

Soon, the commander barked the order to move, and the knights fell into a disciplined march. Their synchronized steps echoed across the vast estate grounds, their polished armor gleaming under the sun.

I inhaled deeply.

The air was crisp and fresh. The warmth of the sun was just beginning to settle on my skin.

And yet, I felt suffocated.

My hands trembled slightly as I gripped the reins of my horse. I turned my gaze back toward the estate. Even from a distance, the towering structure loomed over me, a suffocating presence I couldn't escape.

I forced myself to look forward, gripping the reins tighter.

I wouldn't let this opportunity slip away.

No matter what.

A sudden prickling sensation crawled up my spine. I turned my head slightly—Evan was watching me, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"What?" I muttered.

His lips curled into a smirk. "You look pale. Don't tell me you need to stop and take a piss already."

I exhaled slowly. "Yeah, I'm scared. So what?" I shot back, my voice steady. "A man isn't a coward just because he's afraid. A man is a coward when he stops fighting back and accepts his fate."

Evan's smirk faltered for a split second, his expression shifting to mild surprise.

"Big talk," he mused, then gestured toward my hands. "But you should stop shaking first."

I clenched my fingers around the reins.

He chuckled. "Don't even think about relying on me. If things go south, I'll be the first one to ditch you."

Hah… this bastard.

Maybe I shouldn't have invited him.

I smirked. "That's fine. Until then, be my meat shield."

Evan scowled. "Tch." Clicking his tongue, he spurred his horse forward, moving ahead of me.

I exhaled once more, steadying my nerves.

He was right about one thing.

I couldn't rely on anyone in this world.

My hands were my only weapon.

I've already made my plans.

And I would change my fate—no matter what.