After the incident, Shad stayed in the shadows of his home, nursing bruises that hadn't fully healed, and returning to his regular routine, as much as possible.
Three times a week, the doctor would visit.
"Check him. Make sure he didn't leave any internal bleeding to fester like a fool," Jess said, arms crossed, scowling.
The doctor, a wiry man with spectacles and a shaking hand, did his best. Shad tolerated it, though he barely listened.
The doctor wasn't the only one who visited.
Not all at once, but quietly, in ones and twos. The older hunter, now walking with a crutch, brought a pouch of dried meat and left it on Shad's worktable.
He later came with a whetstone and just sat behind him in silence, sharpening Shad's daggers and axes in silence.
The cheerful one—the father of the kids—usually came with his kids. One time, he carried a bottle of cheap village wine with the usual stupid grin. He always thanked Jess for helping his daughter and son, and that one time, he gave them food too.
"Never thought I'd owe my life to someone so young. Just call me if anything happens. I would help."
Shad left the wine he left behind, unopened.
A week had passed.
Now, his thoughts had kept drifting—to the mountain, to the dungeon, to the pulse of miasma still alive behind that stone gate. He knew it wasn't over. That gate would open. Sooner or later. When that happens, would the village be affected somehow? It was quite far from there, but it was still possible.
He did not want this place to turn into a wasteland.
Jess brought him soup every day. Just like everyday, she grinded herbs, plucking dried petals or sorted dried leaves in silence. Jess, kneeling by her herb basket, was very usual in his eyes.
She placed a small bundle of herbs on the table, as she went outside.
He sighed.
"I think we should leave this place." He muttered to himself.
The next day, Chief Erdan came to visit, one of the many ones.
"You know," the Chief said, sitting uninvited, "I had bets going you'd return in two days. You made me lose gold."
Shad raised a brow.
Chief Erdan leaned forward. "That gate you saw."
Naturally, the Chief had already known. He was not the only one who had witnessed it after all.
The Chief rubbed his face. " I already informed the Margrave about it. I have just received a letter that they had sent knights to check it so don't worry."
For a while, the Chief asked him details about the current situation in the mountains. Then, after, Chief Erdan stood, a little slower than usual, as though the conversation had aged him.
"Don't disappear again without telling someone, boy. Some people around here care more than you think." Then the chief added, "We also need you."
With that, he left.
That night, Shad sat outside beneath the stars.
Some of the carving on his worktable remained untouched. Jess had left a blanket on his porch, and a steaming bowl of tea he hadn't asked for.
He stared into the night.
Something had changed.
Not just in the mountains.
In him.
And as the wind rustled the trees and shadows whispered at the edge of his thoughts, he could feel it.
Three days later, the knights arrived in the village.
They came not quietly, but in gleaming silver plate, cloaks fluttering like banners of authority. Their boots thundered against the stone paths, their helms catching the morning sun. Behind them rode two carriages, one bearing the crest of the Margrave of Ilburn.
The village fell silent.
Jess saw them first from the herb shop, her hands stilling over a tray of dried sage. Shad, inside the house, already knew they had come before the gate creaked open. He could feel it—the faint hum of power clinging to their armor, the deliberate heaviness in their steps, and the slow but steady improvement of his senses.
By noon, a gathering was called in the village square. Chief Erdan stood on the raised platform beside the visiting noble. The man bore himself with practiced grace, his voice clear, loud, and clipped with command.
"I am Lord Veylan, Knight-Captain of the Margrave's Third Company," he said, eyes sweeping the villagers. "By order of His Excellency, the Margrave of Ilburn, the mountain path leading north will be officially closed as of this hour."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Murmurs followed. Lord Veylan raised a hand for silence.
"We have confirmed the existence of a dungeon gate near the upper ridges. It is newly manifested, but active. Its miasma levels are steadily rising." He paused. "For your safety, entry into the area is now forbidden. This includes hunting, foraging, transit, or any type of suspicious activity."
At that, a few hunters grumbled.
"The gate has been marked and classified as Tier II," he continued. "And by right of domain, it shall be placed under the authority of the Margrave. In the following weeks, a sanctioned expeditionary camp will be built near the gate. Only authorized adventurers and licensed scholars will be allowed entry."
Shad, standing in the crowd with arms folded, said nothing. His golden eyes were unreadable.
The Knight-Captain added, "This village will be compensated for the loss of land access. And," his voice grew smoother, more calculated, "anyone who wishes to work for the dungeon's commercial camp may register with our officers starting tomorrow. Positions include guard detail, logistics, beast hauling, and more."
Jess leaned slightly toward Shad. "They're making a business out of it."
"They should," he muttered, understanding the rationale behind it.
Chief Erdan stepped forward next, his voice a little rougher than usual.
"You all heard it. No one's to go near the ridge without express permission. This isn't some cave full of mushrooms. It's a gate. You saw what it did to the hunters. We got lucky this time."
He seemed to have glanced at Shad.
Shad returned the look with a blank stare.
After the announcement, the villagers broke into smaller groups. Speculation ran rampant. Some were angry. Some excited. Some scared. Already, a few ambitious men were whispering about joining the adventurers.
But Shad turned away before any would even talk to him.
He didn't need to hear more.
That night, as stars pierced the black sky again, he sat once more on his porch, blade in hand, sharpening without thought. His fingers moved by instinct.
Jess stood in the doorway behind him.
"I just heard the news. That young man I have mistaken you with seems to be doing better. Apparently, he's an adventurer. He just woke up a few days ago, but he's left already. He might have been in a hurry, but he could've at least said thanks to you."
"I see. Whatever. Good for him he's alive. I also don't want to talk to him."
"Hahaha, you are right. You're like that. By the way, they're really going to build a dungeon camp," she said. "Are you also going to the dungeon? Everyone's been talking about it."
Shad shook his head.
"No."
Instead, he looked past the village. Beyond the fields.
Shad then opened his mouth.
"Jess Lilia, do you want to leave this place with me?"
Jess froze, stunned at the sudden question. She smiled at first, but realized the other party wasn't joking.
"Are you leaving now? Now? Have you perhaps recovered your memories?" she can't help but asked. Her voice quiet but trembling.
Shad did not look at her or reply. He just waited for her response.
Jess swallowed hard.
Though reluctant, Deep down, she had always known Shad wasn't from here. That he had come to the village with no memories, no past, just quiet eyes and the scent of something otherworldly clinging to his shadow. It was only natural that, one day, he'd want to leave.
Still… two years. They had lived together in this quiet rhythm for almost two years.
She looked down at her hands. Then she finally answered.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I can't go with you."
That night, the hut was quiet and Jess slept way earlier than usual. The silence lingered.
At that very same time, however, a group of adventurers were travelling.
When one of them, a young man, not even twenty, with a mop of light brown hair, dressed in a tunic, and armed with a short sword, had unsheathed his sword and started slashing at his companions, enjoying their parries.
"What is the meaning of this, Raife?"
"Who the hell is Raife?" The young man said jokingly, and drove multiple stabs to the one of the adventurer's heart.
Then he turned to the last man, and moved.
Raife didn't run. He smiled as his eyes turned to slits as he glided through the wind with a blur of motion that kicked dust.
His feet barely touched the ground as his blade sang whispers as it sliced a clean arc toward another man's neck, spraying blood under the moonlight.
CLANG!
Steel met steel. Steel met flesh. The last adventurer, a female, had raised his weapon just in time, but the force of the blow rattled his entire arms all the way to his shoulders. Her entire body was sent flying to the trees with a big scar on her face.
"Wh--what are you?" the woman mattered. "Are you even human?"
Putting mana in her body, she then pivoted with a snarl, blood swaying in the air, as she swung wide, desperate to catch Raife in motion.
But Raife, licking his lips, and now with crimson red eyes and red horns on his head, bent backward, spine unnaturally flexible, his face upside-down while he laughed and laughed before flipping over the blow with graceful ease and striking the woman's neck with precision.
Slowly pulling the sword out, Raife's face showed excitement seeing the life drain out of the woman.
"How weak, these humans are." Raife stopped, remembering something, "That's right. I just remembered. They said I was saved by a human. How can that be, right?" he said touching his own face as if it wasn't his own.