20
The forest was deathly quiet.
Vanthelis gathered his courage and followed through where the shadow had gone. He didn't hesitate—his grip on Ishlar's sword was tight, knuckles pale as he stepped deeper into the woods. He didn't know what drove him. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was desperation. Or maybe it was the haunting silence of the system that gave him nothing, and the weight of being called useless by those he tried to protect.
His feet barely made a sound on the damp leaves. His breath was shallow. And then, in the distance, he heard it—a sound that didn't belong.
Clack… clack… grrrrk.
A strange guttural noise, a snorting, almost laugh-like sound, deep and coarse. It echoed faintly between the trees. Vanthelis paused. The hairs on his arms stood.
He followed.
Hours passed. The trees thickened, and the moonlight vanished behind clouds. He trekked over ridges, climbed down rocky hills, and crossed shallow streams. Sweat soaked his shirt, and every step forward deepened his sense of unease.
And then, just beyond a slope, he stopped.
He crouched in the tall grass, hiding behind thick bushes. There, nestled in the mountainside, was a primitive settlement. A ring of caves carved out like dens… yet unnervingly organized. Bones decorated some entrances. Small fires flickered low. And scattered everywhere were creatures—tall, hunched, with canine features and fur-covered limbs.
Gnolls.
The realization hit him. He remembered their description from the books his mother once read to him. He hadn't believed them then—stories of dog-like beasts that lived in packs, once part of the continent's forgotten tribes. But what shocked him more was the memory of what they had become.
The Holy Church declared them unclean. Pirates hunted them for sport. Merchants caught and sold them—bound in chains, leashed like animals. Nobles bought them for entertainment, paraded them around as exotic pets or battle dogs.
But here they were.
Not beasts. Not pets.
Living.
Some gnolls slept near the fires, others gathered in loose circles, communicating in their own snarling tongue. There were even children—smaller gnolls tussling and yipping in the shadows.
Vanthelis's heart pounded. He didn't dare move. He just observed, watching the way they acted—not mindless monsters, but a people trying to survive.
He circled the area carefully, making sure not to disturb any twigs or rocks. Eventually, he reached a large cave set further in—larger, more ornate. Skulls hung at the top, not human but beast-like. Strange symbols drawn with what looked like blood coated the stone.
Inside, through a narrow slit in the rock, he saw it.
A gnoll in a robe, arms raised, swaying, muttering in its guttural tone.
It was worshipping something.
Vanthelis leaned closer.
His breath caught in his throat.
Behind the robed gnoll, buried deep into the wall of the cave, was something glowing faintly beneath the torchlight.
Gold.
Not coins.
A gold mine.
The wall glimmered with veins of raw gold, half-excavated by crude tools. Vanthelis's eyes widened. His chest tightened. For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
It wasn't just a few nuggets.
It was massive.
Enough to change everything.
His legs trembled—not from fear, but from the sudden realization that this… this could be the key. The key to reviving the system. The gold to build what he needed. The power he lacked until now.
But then, a heavy hand slammed down on his shoulder.
He froze.
A low growl rumbled behind him.