Before either of us realized it, the sun had begun to rise again and we still journeyed on. The routine has long beco a muscle instinct, so much that I automatically approximate the ti left until Anselm needs a recharge.
Doing this, of course, ans that I got little to no sleep through the journey. Anselm can stay around for almost an hour now but in no world or life have I ever learned or attempted to power nap. As such, all I got were varying stages of torpor in-between conversations and recharges.
Anselm was right; killing the horse might not have been the best idea. But we've made ti, a lot of ti in fact. We passed by a sign post that directed to Aste, Carbina and Ioina with arrows. This was a good sign of progress if any I'd say.
The journey is not barren however, the roads occasionally, or perhaps as a sign that we were reaching closer to civilization, held other carriages and even convoys. In the day ti, like now, there are a great many travellers coming through with bags on their shoulders, in their hands or if they were lucky, at the back of their fancy carriage.
However, the populaces migration practices are of no interest to . Sleep starved as I am all I want to co across on the road is the band of monsters and n waiting to loot, pillage and skin unwary travellers.
My reason to et these vagrants remains the sa as why I wished to fight the Cultists in the first place. I desperately need a proficiency boost.
Animate Animal passively gave so for simply having the horse puppet walk but not nearly enough that I'm willing to not look for combat.
For an RPG world, there aren't a lot of monsters. How do people grind then? Do they simply practice their magic? Do they exercise? Ugh!
rely thinking of it begins to paint this place in the sa light as that of my old world. Would everything beco a struggle for again? Surely not. I deserveno I demand more than another uphill battle from life.
A straight road to success would really slap and yet, I hear no growling at night, I hear no chippering or chittering as I did in the cavethe cave!
My eyelids swing open as another theory begins to surface. The cave had all the dangers and more. It had the giant ugly bear that nearly killed and it had the goblins that truly ca close.
In short, the cave had a 100% of the monsters I've seen in this world. The cave is where I found Anselm and the only place where my Sense Death was shut off externally and by sothing or soone I never saw.
The cave held all the mysteries, the rats, the bear, the goblins. None of it made a lot of sense.
What were the rats eating? If the goblins locked themselves up to protect from the bear then what were they eating? The rats that sneaked in? And the goblins had the only source of water, or perhaps the only one I ever saw, so what kept the bear alive?
The cave is where I got this blue screen, the one no one has or has ever heard of. The cave is where I ca into this world.
Could the cave be a dungeon?
***
While I bleary-eyed thought of the implications of the cave being a dungeon and the likelihood of there being many other dungeons out and about in the world. Anselm busied himself and , by humming songs that seed not to have lyrics.
As such it is easy to notice when he finally stops and gives reprieve.
"Hey, look over there." He shouts out just in case I'm asleep.
Groaning I get off my back and out of my thoughts to poke my head out his side of the carriage. "What am I supposed to be looking at?" All I see is the landscape.
On the sides of the road there were several repeating buildings, like a village had once settled here only to be uprooted, leaving behind the broken-down buildings and forgotten farmlands to be the only sign there ever once was a village here.
"There!" He grabs my head and fixes it in a position as he screams.
Finally, I see it. "You an the road?"
Through the scattered and abandoned buildings of the old village, a road cut through and began a parallel run beside the one we're on. Despite being on the move and almost out of range, it's easy to tell the road does not start in the village.
"Where do you think it leads?" Anselm asks, excitedly. I've discovered he loves travelling. I can't bla him; travel is all we've been doing since we t.
It might just look and seem like just any other road but under the sun it glistened and shone a brilliance of recent construction. The road does not connect, in fact it refuses to connect with the one we're on; its parallel, broken, leafy and stony counterpart.
"So place fancy." Is my answer.
No doubt the road was constructed to lead into Aste and likely Aste alone.
Another point to support my thought is the indiscriminate demolition of the old village buildings. The construction of the road is likely the very reason those buildings have been abandoned.
Anselm hums with wonder and agreent and soon returns to his tuneless humming as our carriage escapes the sights of the village, but not the road.
With another splash of routine and the rhythmic trotting of the horse as well as the at tis violent thudding of the carriage, the sun that'd risen not too long ago begun to set once more.
It worries that we haven't made it to Aste yet, but I don't ntion it. I simply hope it doesn't turn out I killed the Horse for nothing.
Anselm and I stew in silence for a while after the sun sets and the dark begins to encompass all that can or should be seen. The temperature drops sufficiently to have cover up with the fluffy duvet.
"Look, the road." Anselm says out of the blue.
This ti I don't have to go to him. We quickly pass what has him amazed; the roads finally et at a rather large rock, from then forth the road we travel on becos as smooth and tarred as the other.
"We must be closing in on Aste!"
"Finally," I groan.
"Wait."
"What is it now?"
"Ahead, there's a carriage, it looks broken down."
I shake my head in wonder, "How can you even see that far in this dark?"
"Slow down the horse."
I do as he asks but wonder, "You want to help them?"
We just got on the good road; we can't afford to lose ti helping people who we don't know right now.
He shushes as we begin to approach the carriage. The carriage is battered down and in poor shape with scratches illuminated by the lamp the four hooded figures around it held.
"Hey there!" Anselm yells, "You need any help?"
One the four snap their necks to us, as if not hearing us creep by them in the first place. Under their hoods, despite the light, I see nothing.
But then I feel mana.
Quick as a wink one of the four whips out a bow, sets an arrow, draws and fires in seemingly a single motion.
The invading arrow strikes the back wheel of out carriage and explodes, tossing the carriage and everything inside over on its head.
The tumble rattles so badly I don't expect the bottom, now head of the carriage to split open as a giant claymore cos down through it and to .
CLANG!
The resounding sound of tal scraping tal rings louder than my earlier discomfort.
Wide awake and filled with adrenaline, I see Anselm has retrieved his spear and is now struggling to take on the full brunt of the heavy blade in his awkward position.
"Do sothing!" He strains.
By now my connection with the Horse has been severed, leaving free to cast yet another spell. An offensive one.
With the first assailant hulking over , trying to break through Anselm's desperate defence, they are in reach.
Getting to my feet, making sure to duck under to two deadly weapons, I reach out and touch my assailant's ankle.
"Soul Drain."
Instead of the usually flood of energy through my hand, I feel only my mana sputter out of existence.
[Insufficient Mana! Cannot Attempt {Soul Drain}]
Uhhh wut?
CLANG! CLANG CLANG!
That doesn't sound good.
I don't have to look back to know Anselm's spear has given way. I duck out of the tumbled carriage but my path is imdiately blocked by two axe wielders, and the bowman still crouched at their carriage with the light, satisfied to watch.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I whip out my hand and try another spell, hopefully one my mana isn't too spent from traveling to cast, "Death Grip!"
The ethereal hand launches out of my outstretched hand and chases after one of the axe wielders neck.
Frighteningly, these n are not caught surprised.
My target lurches back whilst his partner simplyslices at the last of my mana, breaking the spell.
I did not know that was possible.
I can still hear Anselm and the Claymore wielder going at it. He screams, "Run! Asher. Run!"
I sorely wish I could
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