Two massive humanoid beasts lumbered at the front of the procession—Trolls.
Their hair was wild and matted, like porcupine bristles. Flesh hung in loose folds from their bodies, gray-red skin coated in dirt and dust. A huge iron stake pierced through each troll, impaling them from back to front.
Chains trailed from the spikes, tethered to an enormous coffin-like cart—identical to the one used near Stormgate.
What was most unsettling was the empty cavity in each troll's abdomen. Hollowed out. No organs inside. How were they even alive?
Behind them marched an escort.
Wandering Nobles cloaked in filth and decay staggered in pairs. Soldiers loyal to Godrick carried torches. Kaiden Sellswords in scarlet cloaks patrolled on horseback.
And they were headed straight for the same bridge Lucian needed to cross.
The road was narrow—barely wide enough for the Trolls. No space to maneuver. Charging through would be suicide.
Lucian squinted through the telescope, analyzing their formation. Too many. And too diverse.
This wasn't a bunch of clumsy foot soldiers. There were cavalry, mages, and shield-bearing knights. The whole army was here.
He sighed. This isn't like the game, where I could just run past them…
He considered waiting them out, but the Trolls moved painfully slow. One misstep, and he could be caught between their front and rear.
Too risky.
I'll take the long way around, he decided.
He turned east, planning to skirt along Agheel Lake's shoreline. That route would eventually connect to the main road again.
The dragon wouldn't be a problem—not if he stayed near the cliffs.
He re-checked the path using the Birdseye Telescope. A gentle slope down toward the lake, a few minor threats—Crabs, Land Squirt—but nothing he couldn't handle.
Satisfied, Lucian set off.
Following the lake's edge, Lucian rejoined the highway southbound toward the Weeping Peninsula. Along the way, he stumbled upon a Grace hidden among the trees.
He sat down to rest, drinking from his waterskin and gnawing on jerky.
It was late afternoon.
He hadn't eaten all day, and his stomach voiced its complaints with audible grumbles.
As he chewed, he considered his next steps.
I wasted a bit of time avoiding the bridge. Sellen's place is behind me now…
I'll put off magic lessons for now and just head to the Weeping Peninsula.
He recalled the path—there was only one way in: the Bridge of Sacrifice.
Guarded, but not heavily.
What was on that bridge again? Ballistae? Explosive bolts? It was all fuzzy now.
The game let you sprint across with ease, but real life wasn't so forgiving.
He decided to scout ahead.
Minutes later, Lucian found himself on a narrow road flanked by sheer cliffs—clearly carved through the mountains.
The Bridge of Sacrifice loomed ahead.
"This terrain's perfect for a cavalry charge" he muttered.
Lucian urged Torrent forward, galloping straight toward the bridge.
The guards spotted him.
"Enemy! Fire!" they cried in hoarse voices.
WHOOSH—BOOM!
A bolt landed in front of him, narrowly missing.
Lucian veered Torrent sharply to the side—but the bolt exploded on impact, the blast nearly knocking them over.
Sweat poured from Lucian's brow. Explosive bolts. Great.
Before he could finish cursing, another bolt flew toward them.
Lucian turned and retreated without hesitation.
Shouts and explosions echoed behind him, but he was already gone.
"Just a few seconds between each shot. That's ten—maybe twelve bolts before I can cross. One hit, and I'm toast."
Back at the Grace, Lucian helped Torrent shed the scorched fur from its hindquarters.
The steed looked over its shoulder, clearly concerned.
Lucian chuckled awkwardly.
"Don't worry, you're not bald. Just… singed. A little."
Torrent wasn't convinced. His huge eyes welled up with tears, and he licked Lucian's cheek.
He knows. The little guy knows everything…
Lucian laughed.
Then, as he cleaned up, a thought struck him.
Wait. Spiritspring!
He leapt to his feet.
After dispatching a few soldiers along the way, Lucian reached a sealed Evergaol on a cliff near the bridge. But he wasn't here for a duel.
He slipped past the Evergaol and approached the cliff's edge.
Below, to the right—just as he remembered—a Spiritspring shimmered at the edge of a ledge.
"Still here" he grinned.
Long ago, he'd found it while exploring the area aimlessly. It led to an overgrown ruin across a chasm, with broken columns still standing strong.
Back then, it felt like discovering a secret path. Now, it was his best shot.
Lucian led Torrent down to the spiritspring's edge and looked across the gap.
The ruin's beams were wide enough for four or five people to walk side by side.
He patted Torrent's neck.
"Think you can make it?"
Torrent snorted disdainfully, insulted by the question.
Taking a few steps back, Torrent launched forward—leaping into the spiritspring and soaring high into the air.
"Wahoo! We're flying!"
Lucian shouted with glee.
Then he felt something wrap around his waist—a presence, a whisper, barely there.
"Aaah! You idiots! Had you fallen, what would have become of you?!"
Melina's voice…?
Lucian blinked. Maybe it was just the wind.
Or maybe… not.