Chapter 10
There is a window deep in the corner, but not in the corridor. Only light comes in from the front hall, and it is broad daylight, so there is no way the corridor can be lit.
Veris stood in the dim world, his heterochromatic eyes reflecting the young man's almost frozen face.
He didn't say anything, just quietly observed Allen.
But the pressure from that gaze was unprecedented. His casual eyes swept over every part of the young mercenary's body; to be precise, his eyes fell on the mercenary's most vulnerable spot.
Three inches below the heart is the wing bone. Adult dragons can spread their wings to a length of over ten meters, and they were once an absolutely powerful race on land.
But that's all in the past; the dragon race is now widely recognized as a semi-extinct species.
Veris raised a finger and gently shushed him. Amidst Allen's fearful gaze, hurried footsteps sounded outside, and Arnold's voice drew closer: "Allen? Allen? Were you just coming this way?"
The young man in the gray robe smiled and turned away nonchalantly. After a while, Arnold's delighted voice rang out, mixed with Veris's lazy reply, and the sound of footsteps faded into the distance.
Sunlight streamed in through the window behind me, its heat burning my shoulders.
Allen's hands trembled slightly. Since he wasn't on a mission, he was wearing ordinary clothes that accentuated his tall figure. Now, his hands were pressed against the corresponding spot on his wing bone.
His eyes lowered, ink stains smudged on his fingertips, and a blurry word was written on his clothes.
--"Quiet".
"I don't like children who are too noisy."
When Arnold was eager to travel with him, Veris refused the overly familiar teenager.
Arnold raised his hand and assured him, "I promise I won't say another word, sir poet!"
However, Veris coldly replied, "I have my own things to do, Arnold. You should stay at the Mercenary Guild and recover from your injuries."
As soon as he finished speaking, Arnold belatedly realized that he seemed to be injured. Suddenly, the wounds scattered all over his body began to ache, and it seemed that the violent movements just now had torn the wounds.
The boy's face turned slightly pale.
Veris gave him a "see?" look: "Go back quickly, before the apothecary goes off duty, you can go to the priest and buy a healing scroll."
Arnold grimaced, but as bruises appeared all over his body at once, he couldn't help but grimace.
"Is the poet going to the tavern again tonight?"
"Maybe." Veris turned and left. With this delay, it was getting late. The five-mile journey would take him quite a while without any help.
Moreover, he planned to take the opportunity to gather local folk songs and poems.
Leaving Albion, follow the main road at the end, and you'll find yourself going downhill.
Veris walked slowly, wondering if his magic would fail.
He was quite confident in his magic. Alan and Arnold would definitely not remember what happened that night, but whether the old acquaintance inside Arnold's body would leak the secret was another matter.
If he fails even to alter the memories of a human and a dragon descendant, Veris might as well drag the bunch of good-for-nothings from the High Church down with him and hang themselves.
Veris suddenly found it very interesting. Nelson's office was indeed soundproof, but if it was the kind of situation where a dragon descendant could eavesdrop by pressing against the wall, then Nelson couldn't be blamed.
He only altered his memory of that night; before that, Alan probably had dealings with Percy.
If Alan knew Percy's plan, he would have guessed that the footprints on the path came from the apothecary.
Even without knowing Percy's plan, Allen, with his intelligence, could guess the general outline.
Especially when Warcraft hordes invade.
Veris pondered whether to reveal the truth. Coincidence was impossible; the monsters had come along that path, and the traces along the way couldn't be faked. Arnold's identity was highly suspicious. Whether he possessed a rare treasure or had let a wolf into the house, Nelson had no intention of letting it go easily.
He suddenly felt a bit tricky. The monsters were attracted by Percy using forbidden drugs, but during the battle that night, the monsters kept pouncing on Arnold, which was hard to explain.
The young man sighed. Occasionally, people would pass by on the road, hurrying towards Albion.
Merchants or travelers alike must arrive in Albion before nightfall, or they will have to live in the wild.
After walking quite a distance, they came to fields and the view opened up, allowing Veris to see the dark horizon.
They were almost at the path Nelson had mentioned. Veris discerned the direction, and soon a fork in the road appeared ahead. One path led to a grove of trees and then into the forest, while the other remained a wide road.
"This must be it," he murmured.
Then, without hesitation, I ventured into the path hidden by the woods. At first, there were low bushes and small trees, and the ground was grass, with barely any trace of a path.
If the priest hadn't used a tracking scroll, it would have been difficult to discover the footprints here.
After all, the monsters came from this side, and the trampling marks alone could perfectly cover up human footprints.
Veris walked quite a distance into the forest, then stood before a huge ancient tree, turning back thoughtfully. The path he had come from was obscured by bushes, and the trees overhead blocked out the sunlight, making the entire forest seem incredibly dark.
"This is troublesome." He crouched down, his palm hovering over the ground. A magic circle appeared, but quickly disappeared from his palm. Then, a glowing footprint appeared on the grass.
These are absolutely true, Arnold's footprints.
The brave young man also came from this path, arriving in Albion while avoiding the villages and towns along the way.
Veris narrowed his eyes, instantly sketching out the entire terrain of the Amberley Mountains and the location of the so-called Eye of God in his mind. He wasn't sure if there were really some villages deep in the Amberley Mountains, but the places that the Holy Light of Orlando could reach were all within his sight.
Since Arnold said that a priest had come to his village to preach, there must have been records of it.
The chaos caused by the monsters of Amberley began one night, destroying Arnold's village. Young Arnold, who had to get up early to herd sheep elsewhere, heard the commotion and fled into the depths of the mountains in a panic.
Veris wasn't interested in how he obtained the Eye of the Gods and how he made a pact with that old acquaintance.
He was thinking that the magical beasts in the Amberley Mountains had been dormant for so many years, it was impossible for them to suddenly go berserk.
There must be something driving them.
Veris stood up. He didn't intend to go any further. The road ahead was much the same as the way he had come, so there was no need to continue exploring.
He wanted to get back to his little attic immediately.
I've stayed in Albion for so many years, firstly for Sylvain, and secondly to observe the situation in the Amberley Mountains.
However, the Eye of God, and even the reappearance of that god's remnant soul, were not enough to throw Veris into disarray.
What he's worried about now—no, to be precise, what's making his heart pound for the first time in a long time—is whether the awakening of the remnant soul of the celestial being corresponds to the revival of other gods.
If that's the case, then he'll have to be prepared.
Veris looked down at his palm, where the lines were not very clear. Soon, he clasped his hands together, his whisper trembling slightly.
Will we ever meet again?
“Sylvain…”
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