Bullying begins

Eldermoon Forest stood as a natural barrier between House Stormbane and House Valris, two powerful families whose delicate balance shaped the empire. This expedition wasn't just to take the relic but also to assert dominance over the other.

We set out toward Eldermoon Forest, our procession cutting through the bustling city streets. Merchants, common folk, and shopkeepers paused to watch in surprise and awe. It wasn't every day that the strongest knights of Stormbane marched together, their disciplined formation surrounding a lavish carriage at the center.

The journey pressed on with only brief stops for food. Selene rarely stepped out of her carriage, and per Edric's warning, I hadn't even glanced in her direction. The relentless pace soon wore me down, my body struggling to keep up with the knight's endurance.

As the cityscape faded, houses grew sparse, and before long, civilization gave way to sprawling farmland. By nightfall, we made camp near the fields, where the knights swiftly set up tents, lit fires, cooked dinner, and took turns standing watch. I had nothing to do—I simply ate and slept in the tent allocated to me as exhaustion seeped into my body. I hadn't spoken a word and avoided contact with anyone.

Morning arrived, and with it, the treatment toward me started to degrade. The knights, particularly those trained under Edric, never missed a chance to sneer or whisper among themselves when I passed.

Renald, a knight with a jagged scar running down his nose, made a show of pinching it shut and staggering back dramatically.

"Gods above! The stench! Someone check if the young master's rotting already!"

Laughter followed, some knights slapping their thighs as if it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.

Beside him, Garrick, lean and sharp-eyed, didn't laugh. He just smirked, tapping his fingers lightly against his sword hilt—a lazy, rhythmic sound.

"Nah, Renald, he's not dead yet. Just useless." His voice carried the quiet amusement of someone testing how far they could push before their prey snapped.

Laughter erupted from the gathered knights, their jeers carrying through the camp. A few others on guard duty chuckled, joining in.

Did they really think I was some child who would lash out at such petty provocations? I remained impassive, neither flinching nor responding.

A man should know when to strike—and when to endure. I told myself not to lash out—that was exactly what they wanted.

I shifted my gaze toward Evan, curious about his reaction. To my surprise, he neither smiled nor mocked me. He simply observed in silence.

Exhaling, I looked away.

Soon, breakfast was prepared. The knights distributed the food, and as I expected, they saved my portion for last. Garrick was the one who carried my plate this time, his smirk widening as he approached.

Just as he reached me, his foot slipped—purely by accident, of course—and the steaming food spilled all over me.

"Fuck!" I cursed instinctively, jerking back as the hot meal seared my chest.

"Ah, my hand slipped." Garrick's grin was all teeth, feigning innocence.

I clenched my fists but forced myself to relax, inhaling deeply. Not now.

"Aw!, come on, Garrick," Renald snickered. "At least let him taste it first before you throw it away."

More laughter erupted, but I ignored them, turning away to wash myself off at a nearby water source.

I cupped my hands and took a refreshing scoop, using it to scrub away the food stains on my dress. But with each passing moment, my anger simmered, threatening to boil over. Seeking solace, I splashed more of the chilled water onto my face and hair, letting its invigorating touch calm my racing thoughts, if only for a moment

The food he spilled was the last of our provisions, carefully prepared for our breakfast. As I stood there, empty-handed and ignored, the others savored their meals, chatting and laughing together as if I was invisible. I hadn't expected anything more, though.

Selene remained secluded in her carriage, dining on finer fare within. The momentary pause was soon forgotten, and we resumed our journey.

Lunch was the same. This time, however, I reached the cooking knight early, securing my food before distribution. They threw glares my way but said nothing.

That night, my tent collapsed—another coincidence, leaving me to sleep exposed beneath the stars.

The following day, the bullying grew bolder.

"Young master," Renald called out mockingly. "Care to train with us?"

"No," I replied flatly.

"Come on, be grateful," he sneered. "We're already carrying a burden like you. Might as well make yourself useful."

"I said no. Now move." My voice was firm.

"Don't be so stubborn." Garrick smirked and tossed a sheathed sword at me.

I moved instinctively, tilting my head as the weapon sailed past and landed behind me.

Renald roared with laughter. "Hah! You can't even catch a sword, let alone wield one!" He laughed dramatically.

My fingers twitched at my sides. A slow, deep breath barely kept my temper in check, but my jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it.

If I lashed out now, it wouldn't just be one knight. Edric's men trained together. The moment I struck one, the others would have an excuse to pounce. And I wasn't ready for that—yet.

Afternoon came as we passed through villages and wastelands. The vast blue sky stretched endlessly, clouds drifting lazily above us. The sun scorched my head, my body barely keeping up. Exhaustion seeped through my limbs, each breath growing heavier as an unbearable weight pressed down on me.

Finally, we stopped for a break.

I dismounted and collapsed onto the grass, the relentless sun beating down on my face. But I didn't care—I needed to let my body rest. Sweat drenched my clothes, clinging to my skin like a second layer.

Then, as if pitying me, the clouds shifted, shielding the sun. I closed my eyes, indulging in a fleeting moment of solace.

Hot sand splashed onto my face, covering my nose and mouth. I jolted up, turning sharply.

Garrick stood there, arms casually resting behind his head.

"Heh! Sorry, young master, my leg slipped." He smirked.

Blood rushed to my face, my nerves thrumming with barely restrained anger. But I swallowed it down. If I fought back and got injured, I wouldn't survive Eldermoon Forest. Even though we had healers, they weren't miracle workers like that old man. I wasn't about to gamble on them.

I stood up and walked away, saying nothing.

Time passed, and night fell. As they started cooking, I went into the tent they had set up for me. Closing my eyes, I tried to resonate with mana—but no use. The moment I reached out, an invisible force pushed back, jolting me out of my concentration.

With a sigh, I stepped outside.

Renald stood there, a bowl of food in hand.

I pointed at the ground. "Put it down and go."

He did as I asked without a word.

I picked up the bowl and took a sip—only to spit it out immediately.

"Shit."

The sea-salt taste lingered on my tongue. Renald chuckle echoed from distance. I clenched the bowl tighter.

I clenched the bowl tighter. I had no idea how long until we reached the Eldermoon forest. My stomach growled in protest, but my exhausted body refused to budge, anchored to the tent floor as I waited for morning

Morning came. Everyone busied themselves with their usual tasks. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, a dull ache that refused to be ignored. I waited near the cooking area as breakfast was prepared.

Evan sat next to his tent, watching me.

"What the hell is that bastard looking at?" I muttered under my breath.

The rich aroma of spices and vegetables made my wait excruciating. As soon as the food was ready, I took my portion and turned toward my tent.

Then—

A sharp shoulder rammed into me.

My balance faltered. The bowl slipped from my grasp.

That was it.

The last shred of patience within me snapped.

I didn't look back. My fists clenched, my entire body tensing. In one swift motion, I twisted my weight into my punch and drove my fist into the lean knight's face. His head jerked back, his smirk vanishing as he staggered and fell on his back, blood trickling from his nose.

Smash.

A loud crack echoed through the camp, freezing everyone in place.

A few knights instinctively reached for their weapons. Some exchanged glances, uncertain whether to intervene.

Edric, busy chatting with the commander, barely spared us a glance. He wasn't ignoring the fight—he was waiting to see how it unfolded.

One knight muttered, "Finally snapped, huh?" with an amused snort.

Garrick stumbled back, touching his face in shock. Then, realizing all eyes were on him, he scrambled up, humiliated fury flashing in his gaze.

"Now you're done for!" he roared, swinging his fist at me.