The dagger jerked free from the last goblin's sternum, its tip coated in viscous blue fluid that dripped onto the moss below. LeoNova wiped his brow with the back of his wrist, smearing blood across his forehead, the metallic tang sharp in his nostrils.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the lingering aches in his knuckles dissolved into nothingness. The fight should've left him trembling, gasping for air, but instead, his lungs burned with exhilaration, his muscles coiled tight like springs. He shouldn't be this strong, this fast.
Something else gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Each kill had sent a surge of heat through him, sharpening his reflexes mid-battle.
The adrenaline still hummed in his veins, but beneath it, something deeper. A subtle shift in his muscles, like they'd been rewoven tighter. His shoulder no longer ached where the club had grazed him, but more than that, the limb felt denser, as if the bone itself had been reinforced. He rolled his wrist, testing the motion, and his tendons moved smoother than before, like oiled machinery.
LeoNova Reinhardt. The name he had chosen felt different now. There was weight to it, a rhythm that matched the pulse behind his ribs. He exhaled sharply through his nose. Fine. If this was his life now, he wouldn't waste time mourning what he'd lost. Not when his body was clearly built for something else entirely.
His boots sank into the riverbank's silt as he crouched, the cold-water biting into the gouges and smears of goblin blood coating his arms. The reflection staring back at him was unsettlingly handsome. Too sharp. He scrubbed his hands raw until the water ran clear, watching swirls vanish downstream. The dagger's hilt was slick in his grip now, washed clean of everything but the memory of use.
Rustling leaves upstream snapped his head around, just a bird this time. He exhaled through his nose; the forest was too quiet now. Every rustled leaf made his shoulders tense. The riverbank's clay clung to his boots as he trudged forward, scanning the canopy for movement.
The water's path was erratic, widening into shallow pools choked with river reeds before narrowing again between mossy boulders.
LeoNova kept one palm resting on his dagger as he walked parallel to the current, boots skimming the waterline where sand gave way to pebbles.
He had been walking for about ten minutes, nervously observing his surroundings when the forest thinned abruptly, one moment tangled roots and undergrowth, the next a rutted dirt road cutting through the trees like a scar.
LeoNova's knuckles whitened around the dagger hilt at the sound of creaking wood and jangling harnesses. Around the bend, a merchant's wagon rolled into view. The driver, a barrel-chested man with a salt-and-pepper beard, barely glanced at the bloodstained child stepping onto the road until his mule brayed and shied sideways.
"Easy there!" The merchant yanked the reins, squinting past dust motes. His frown deepened as he took in LeoNova's torn clothes.
"You lost, boy?" The man's voice carried the rough timbre of someone used to shouting over wagon wheels.
LeoNova hesitated, then flashed a smile. "Just heading to Orario."
The merchant's eyes flicked to the bloody rags clinging to the boy's frame, then hardened. "The city isn't free," he grunted, hunching forward in his seat. The mule snorted again, its ears flapping.
LeoNova sighed, then shrugged. "I've got nothing but these." He held up three violet-veined magic stones. The merchant's knuckles whitened around the reins.
"Those aren't currency," the man muttered, but his gaze lingered for a bit too long.
LeoNova flexed his fingers, letting the stones click together, the merchant flinched. "They're worth something," he pressed, rolling one between his fingers. "Or you wouldn't be staring."
The wagon's axle creaked as the merchant leaned down. A pause, then a grudging shrug. "Three magic stones gets you a ride in the back with the turnips."
LeoNova vaulted onto the wagon bed without waiting for his permission.
The merchant muttered something about "ungrateful brats" under his breath, flicking the reins before LeoNova had even settled between sacks of millet and crates of pottery. The wagon lurched forward with a creak of unoiled axles, jostling him against rough hemp fibers that smelled of dust and damp. He tilted his head back, watching the forest canopy blur into streaks of green as they picked up speed on the rutted road.
Orario. The name coiled in his gut like a living thing. A city built atop the Dungeon, its tower, Babel, visible even from miles away, or so the merchant claimed between complaints about bandits and spoiled shipments, LeoNova barely registered the man's voice.
After what felt like an hour of traveling on the bumpy forest trail, they had finally exited the forest, it's trees giving way to a vast plain. His fingers curled around the wagon's splintered edge as the road crested a hill, and there it was, walls taller than redwoods, gates wrought from something that glinted dully under the sun. The massive Tower of Babel stood proudly in the center of the city, the sheer scale of it prickled his skin with something between awe and unease. "The Labyrinth City of Orario", He muttered under his breath.
The merchant barked a laugh. "First-timer's eyes, eh?" He spat over the side. "Don't gawk too long, the city might eat you alive."
The city was still a bit over a mile away. Though at their current pace it wouldn't be too long before they would reach the city's gates.
The western gate loomed like the maw of some colossal beast, swallowing caravans whole beneath its shadow.
After going through a bit of formalities with the guards at the gates, the wagon moved forward, its wheels struck the cobblestone with a hollow clatter as they passed under the archway, and suddenly the world exploded into sounds, shouting merchants, clanging smiths, the sizzle of meat skewers turning over open flames.
"Are you getting off or what?" The merchant snapped his fingers. " Brat. Hand over those magic stones."
LeoNova dropped the three dull crystals into the man's greasy palm without hesitation. The Merchant's eyes darted between them, calculating, greedy, before he tucked them into a hidden pouch beneath his tunic.
"Still think they're worthless?" LeoNova smirked.
The merchant's face darkened. "Just get off my wagon." He jerked his thumb toward the bustling street. "Unless you've got more of those worthless stones to pay for another ride?"
LeoNova snorted, swinging his legs over the splintered wooden edge. His boots hit the cobblestones. The merchant wasted no time, snapping the reins sharply enough to make the draft mule lurch forward.