Chapter 33: Here to Pick Me Up?

After parting ways with the Old Man, Glen retraced his path through memory, running at full speed along the original route.

Finding the main road too winding, however, he soon cut straight through the mountains and fields.

The newly acquired clothes snagged and tore on branches and thickets. Glen found them ugly and smelly anyway, so he felt no regret.

On he traveled, stopping and starting, for half a day. As he pressed on, a sudden, putrid stench assaulted his nostrils.

This is… decaying flesh! Frowning, he decided to follow the smell.

Shortly after, Glen discovered a small farmhouse nestled within the woods. A few domestic fowl were penned outside. The source of the foul odor was unmistakably inside the house.

A dirt path, marked with chaotic footprints, led away from the farmhouse towards the outside world.

Gritting his teeth against the stench, Glen pushed open the door. Though braced for the worst, the scene that met his eyes instantly plunged his mood into the depths.

A family of five. Parents, the eldest child perhaps fourteen or fifteen, the youngest barely seven or eight years old.

All dead. Brutally murdered.

He moved closer, examining each one. Apart from the two children, whose necks had been snapped, the cause of death was the same for the others: muscles slack, eye sockets sunken deep, resembling victims of consumption. He couldn't fathom the method used.

Only seven or eight years old… Glen forced himself to calm down. He then found a spot and carefully buried all five members of the family.

He understood such tragedies were likely commonplace in this world, but witnessing it firsthand ignited a fierce anger within him. During missions in his past life, he'd seen scenes far more cruel, and each time, they stirred a deep turmoil within him. Back then, there had been constraints, rules holding him back. Now? He could do whatever he pleased. No one could stop him.

Within the hollow of a massive, dead tree, three Dark Mages who had narrowly escaped disaster lowered their spell-casting hands.

"He said there was an incident? The rendezvous point is moved?" one of them, a mage with a single eye, frowned deeply.

"That can't be right?" questioned another, whose prominent aquiline nose seemed to hang down to his chin. "That location was only recently established, and it was extremely remote. How could it be compromised so quickly? Was it found by Knights? Or Mages from the Alliance?"

"Try contacting him again…" suggested the third, whose eyes were an unsettling shade of ink-green. His expression suddenly contorted. "Someone's coming!"

The three mages spoke as one.

No sooner had the words left their lips than a figure burst into the hollow. It moved with impossible speed, far beyond their ability to react. Defensive incantations, half-formed in their throats, died there as heavy blows slammed into each of their heads.

Their constantly active protective wards shattered instantly. Consciousness fled the three Dark Mages.

When the first mage groggily opened his eye, terror seized him. He and his two companions were bound upside down, suspended from the branches of a withered tree.

A young man in tattered clothing sat beside a crackling campfire, roasting some kind of bird meat.

Seemingly sensing the Dark Mage's awakening, Glen spoke without looking up. "That family of five… you killed them, right?"

The awakened mage blinked, then let out a low, sinister chuckle. "Heh heh… Yes, that was us. Were they kin? Friends? They tasted divine… shall I describe it in detail for you? Heh heh…" It wasn't hard to guess; the family was their only recent kill.

Glen nodded slowly. He rose to his feet, his voice unnervingly calm. "I had no connection to them. I simply dislike your kind. And since I had some free time… I thought I'd come kill you."

"What?!" The Dark Mage's voice surged with furious indignation, radiating boundless shame and rage. "You stupid, ignorant whelp! We are noble Mages! We are born superior! Filth like you, who understand nothing of magic's grandeur, we kill as we please! Opposing us? You are unworthy!" To him, even speaking to Glen was a degradation.

Why are all these mages cut from the same arrogant cloth? Who spoiled them rotten? Glen waited patiently for the tirade to end before replying, his voice still measured.

"When you stole those lives, I doubt you spared a thought for their suffering. So… I want you to experience the sensation of life slowly draining away…"

Without waiting for a response, Glen extended a single clawed finger. He pulled out one of the mage's arms, sliced a long, deep gash along its length, then secured it with rope, positioning it so the blood flowed freely onto the ground below.

He repeated the process with the other two mages.

The pain jolted the other two awake. Seeing their predicament, they erupted in furious curses.

"You treacherous cur! We are Mages! I command you to release us immediately! Or else… or else… the consequences will be dire!" "Let us go this instant! I will drain your life energy dry!"

Glen listened quietly. His expression wasn't one of hearing insults; it seemed more like he was listening to praise.

"I suggest you save your breath," Glen murmured once the shouting began to subside. "Worse is coming. Save your strength for screaming." With that, he turned and walked away.

The three mages, growing weaker by the minute, exchanged panicked, uncertain glances. Moments after Glen vanished, a faint, skittering sound arose around them.

Creatures, rodent-like but not quite rats, emerged from beneath the dead leaves and out of the decaying wood. They had long, sharp incisors and chittered incessantly as they swarmed towards the three figures hanging upside down.

Within moments, a dense, writhing horde covered the ground beneath them, sending icy dread shooting down the mages' spines.

Terror ignited frantic struggles. But the ropes held fast, impossibly strong.

As the first grotesque rat clambered up the tree trunk and onto a mage's leg, others followed suit.

Chilling screams pierced the sky…

Having dealt with that bit of evil, Glen found his mood considerably improved.

Truly, one's own peace of mind is paramount… Glen mused philosophically as he resumed his journey.

He walked straight through the night. Occasionally, he encountered strangers on the road, mostly peasants, who regarded his ragged state with the disdainful stares usually reserved for beggars.

Such glances meant nothing to Glen.

Judging by this stretch of road, this region must be on the kingdom's fringe. The infrastructure is too backward otherwise – can't even find a place to buy a horse… Glen thought with considerable annoyance. Always having to rely on my own legs for transport is getting old.

Just as he neared the outskirts of Bayek, the sound of hooves approached from behind. A splendidly ornate carriage slowed down beside him.

Glen didn't need to look. He already knew who was inside.

Sure enough, the curtain was drawn aside by a strikingly pretty young woman with sharp features and cascading golden hair. A mischievous smile played on her lips. "Look, Mother! A filthy beggar in rags. How utterly pathetic."

Inside sat a woman radiating aristocratic poise. Her eyes remained half-lidded, gazing imperiously forward, her chin slightly elevated as if perpetually prepared to look down upon others. Her voice held an air of absolute authority. "Pelness. Do not concern yourself with trivialities."

Pelness opened her mouth to respond, but Glen spoke first, his voice dripping with feigned delight and surprise.

"Well, well! If it isn't the ever-so-kind and generous Lady Pelness! Did you stop just to offer me a ride? How wonderfully thoughtful of you! Truly splendid! Where does one board this fine carriage? Here? Excellent, I'm coming right up…"