"Investor?"
Alan shot Hols a puzzled look. Clearly, he didn't quite understand what the man was getting at.
Hols tucked away his smoking pipe, and the playfulness faded from his expression. His deanor shifted—serious, composed, and oddly dignified.
"Alan," Hols began, his tone calm but resolute, "I know exactly why you ca to the Jacob Ruins. It's for your sister—Isabella. You ca here to rescue her. If that's the case, I have a proposal for you."
Without warning, Hols tore off his flowing red silk robe and tossed it aside, revealing a set of intricately forged, crimson armor underneath. The armor was not just ornate—it radiated strength, its plates shimring like blood-forged steel, refined and battle-hardened.
"I'll personally see to it that you and your companions make it out of this place alive," Hols continued. "But on one condition—you agree to fulfill three requests from ."
Alan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He stared directly at the strange man. "What kind of requests?"
Hols gave him a reassuring smile. "No rush. I'm not asking you to fulfill them right now. You're still young, and we both have plenty of ti."
Alan narrowed his eyes, the suspicion rising in his gut. "If your requests involve harming the innocent or anything morally twisted, then forget it. I'd rather die here than turn my sword on soone who doesn't deserve it."
For a mont, Hols looked at him with admiration, even warmth. He clapped a hand on Alan's shoulder. "Good. That's exactly what I hoped you'd say. Don't worry—I won't ask you to do anything evil. In fact, these requests will be very simple for soone like you."
"Really?" Alan's voice carried a note of skepticism.
He had every right to be cautious.
He was completely surrounded by elite attackers, many at the peak of tier-gold strength, with at least one tier-platinum threat still loitering nearby—Claude, the scruffy knight who had yet to make a move. Though Claude had claid he would only fight after Alan dealt with the others, who knew what such a wild card would actually do in battle?
Alan's life had taught him one thing—never take anyone at their word, no matter how convincing their tone. The world was a place of deception, and every promise carried hidden blades.
But still… Isabella was waiting.
And right now, getting her out of this cursed place was the only thing that mattered.
"…Fine. I agree," Alan finally said.
He had no other choice.
If surviving ant accepting Hols' mysterious deal—then so be it. The future could be reckoned with later.
Hols grinned, pleased. "I knew I wasn't wrong about you."
Once again, he patted Alan on the shoulder, then turned to face the attackers scattered through the clearing. His voice rang out loud and clear.
"You all heard the deal. I've just reached an agreent with Alan. He's agreed to help in the future—and in exchange, I will protect him and his allies. So I'm afraid none of you are claiming the bounty today."
Instantly, murmurs of discontent erupted among the attackers.
"Hey, what the hell gives you the right to make that call?!"
"Yeah! Unless you're planning to pay us sothing equal to the bounty, that kid's life is ours!"
Their complaints rang through the forest—but before they could finish, sothing eerie occurred.
The red silk robe Hols had discarded earlier suddenly twitched.
It moved on its own—slithering across the forest floor like a venomous serpent. In a flash, it reached one of the protesting attackers and slipped up behind him.
Before the man could even react, the living robe sprang forward, plunging itself into his open mouth and nostrils.
Gurgling noises filled the air as the fabric forced itself into his body. In a matter of seconds, his form began to wither—his limbs shriveling, his eyes bulging, his veins blackening under his skin. It was as if the blood had been drained from him, leaving behind a hollow husk.
Then, as abruptly as it had entered, the red robe slithered back out through his mouth.
The cloth glead brighter now, its crimson hue deepened by the fresh blood it had consud.
The clearing fell into stunned silence.
No one dared challenge Hols again.
After all, he hadn't even lifted a finger. Just his robe—a piece of enchanted equipnt—had effortlessly killed a peak-tier-gold mage. A feat like that could only be accomplished by soone at least tier-platinum… or higher.
Even the tunic-clad man, who had been leading the attack earlier, now looked at Hols with fear and caution in his eyes.
But Hols ignored the rest of them. With a blur of movent, he appeared beside Isabella and stood protectively in front of her.
The little girl blinked up at him, her tone filled with innocent curiosity. "Uncle, you're really strange… All these people want to kill my brother. But you—you're helping him. Why?"
Hols let out an awkward chuckle. He hadn't expected such a pure, direct question. For a mont, he hesitated—how could he explain the concept of an "investnt" to a child?
"Ahem… Isabella," he began, kneeling down so he was level with her, "Let put it this way. Imagine you have two choices."
"First, soone gives you a big allowance. Lots of money—you could buy anything you want."
"Second, there's a close friend. Soone who's been with you since you were little. You've had many good mories together. But if you choose the allowance, you'll lose that friend forever."
"Now, here's the twist: You know this friend will beco soone very important in the future. Soone who could help you in ways money never could."
"Which would you choose?"
Isabella didn't hesitate. "I'd pick the friend. Money can be earned again. But if a friend's gone, they're really gone."
Hols smiled, nodding approvingly. "That's why I chose to help your brother."
"Oh…" Isabella blinked, still looking a little confused. But she quickly nodded. "Even if I don't get it all yet, I understand one thing—you're my brother's friend. That ans you're my friend too! And don't worry, Uncle—I'll find a way to repay your kindness soday. I won't let my brother handle everything alone."
Hols stared at her, visibly moved. In that mont, he wasn't looking at a helpless child—he saw the sa strength, the sa integrity, that Alan carried. It was part of their blood, carved into their bones.
He had made the right choice.
What Hols didn't know, however, was that one day, the roles would be reversed. The protector would beco the one needing protection. And this girl—this bright-eyed child—would stand where he stood now.
Just then, Alan took a step forward. His eyes were sharp, locked on the attackers still frozen in place.
The tunic-clad man tensed.
Alan pointed to his own chest—his heart—and sneered. "You want my life? Co and take it."
"You arrogant little—!"
The attacker could no longer endure the humiliation. Even with Hols and Claude nearby, his pride burned. Being taunted like this was more than he could take.
"Kill him!!"
With a furious shout, he lunged at Alan, leading the remaining attackers in a frenzied charge.
Against one or two of them, Alan would be fine. But dozens? Even with all his skill, he couldn't fend them off alone.
Then it happened.
The clash of tal echoed through the forest—clear, rhythmic, and unyielding.
A figure burst from the shadows behind Alan. A small golden humanoid, its body gleaming with a tallic sheen, interposed itself between Alan and the oncoming attackers.
It parried and deflected most of the attacks, moving with inhuman precision.
Alan and Francis both let out a breath of relief.
Francis wasted no ti. "Fort! What the hell took you so long? I've been waiting forever!"
The golden warrior—Fort—snapped a blade lodged in his arm like it was made of glass. He turned and offered a sheepish smile.
"Sorry. On my way here, I passed over a ravine full of magnetic ore… and, well… I hadn't deactivated my tal-elent bloodline yet. Just being cautious."
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