Quickly distancing himself from the sound, he laid down amongst the bushes and waited.

  In no time, the source showed itself.

  A man.

  Faust’s eyes widened in surprise to see another living person. However, he did not go up to him and simply kept observing from a safe distance. There was something off about this man; he was not only injured but on the verge of dying!

  A gaping wound on the side of his neck spurted blood constantly.

  He had a noble-like appearance, with golden hair and white skin that were both smeared by blood and dirt. His body was dressed in a layered yellow and white flowing robe, which made him look like a young master from some village. Judging by the colors he wore, Faust had a hunch which village the young man pertained to—the Yellow-Star village.

  A man from the Yellow-Star village… that is a rare sight.

  The Yellow-Star villagers were proud merchants who always wore yellowish colors so anyone could recognize them. Even if Faust had only seen some of them briefly back in the encampment, he had heard enough to know that. In terms of clothing, the Black-Star village was similar; they were a sort of militia and wore dark colors, whether a stylistic choice or something practical, Faust did not know.

  His own village was simpler. It had no clear specialty and was usually half-assed in lots of things, so the villagers made no particular effort to identify themselves as being from it.

  Not long after the man passed by, Faust understood why he was running. It was not from beasts, but from other villagers, those clad in dark leather and equipped with iron swords.

  Black-Star village? Faust was surprised. Why are they going after him? Did he do something?

  The men pursuing him had a greedy expression, as if pursuing a treasure of incomparable value. They ignored the bushes and tree branches prickling their skin and kept their pursuit single-minded. And yet, they were clearly not running at full speed, cautious of something.

  If they had not been so focused on their own goal, they could have noticed Faust hiding behind bushes nearby. Fortunately, they did not.

  Curious. Why are they pursuing that man in a way that avoids getting too close? Faust noticed that in an instant. Are they scared of him? Why so? He won’t last much longer with these injuries… unless he is a mana user! But if that’s the case, I doubt these people would be capable of hurting him; they don’t seem like mana users.

  Pondering, Faust felt his curiosity overtaking him. In a sense, that was both a positive and negative trait to have, but it was not something he could change.

  Faust casted a gaze in the direction the three men had run.

  Even knowing it was a dangerous decision, he decided to follow them. It was at least better than staying completely alone, wasn’t it?

  Better to be in bad company than with no company at all… though it wasn't exactly that.

  Shaking his head, Faust was unsure of his decision but started to follow behind them from a distance.

  …

  While following them, Faust’s senses felt surprisingly sharp. He could hear them very well despite the wind and the sound of their steps.

  They did not talk a lot, but when they did, it was interesting—and Faust was rightly shocked by the content of their discussion.

  One of the men had said, “We cannot let this man get away. He has an essence with him. If we can get our hands on it…”

  “Then how will we share it?” the other questioned, a clear greed in his eyes.

  “That’s… something we will decide when we get it. But I’m sure we will find a way.” The reply was given with a fake smile.

  “Sure…”

  After that, their voices fell silent and they simply kept going after the man, who Faust had already confirmed was being purposely allowed to run away.

  Why was that? Given the content of their conversation, he now had an idea.

  Initially, what shocked him was the usage of the word “essence.” Although his knowledge about the matter was poor and shallow, he had read this word in books many times; every book about heroes and legends used it at some point.

  Essences were a sort of power, a divine-like power. Naturally, such a thing was capable of making any man greedy. The power of a god in the hands of a man—it was truly a ridiculous thing to think of.

  In the stories Faust read, essences were usually used to give the heroes a connection to the gods and a power capable of defeating their foes.

  It ranged from great things like fiery walls capable of covering a mountain to gusts of wind so strong they could move an ocean.

  With that in mind, Faust assumed the reason they were letting the man slip away was to not force him to take any desperate measure and use the essence, thus denying them their chance to get it.

  Still, the man was so hurt… Faust couldn’t understand him. If it were himself, he would have already used the power... unless it was a fake.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Faust doubted it was even real to start with, but the mere possibility was enough to spark his interest. What if, by chance, he could get his hands on the essence? Wouldn’t that allow him to experience many interesting things? To survive things he wouldn’t normally be able to? It was worth the risk.

  Obviously, although Faust’s idealistic view of not wanting to stain his hands with blood had already been broken, he still wished to not stain them with human blood. Unless he was attacked first or had no choice, he wouldn’t kill humans, especially not to get an item… or a power… whatever it could be called.

  The books never describe them.

  Besides, even if he wanted to and hypothetically had no problem with it, his lack of strength was still a concern. He had almost died killing a single wind wolf that was playing with him... a creature even novice guards could kill if it was alone.

  In any case, thinking of battle strength was not the main concern right now.

  So, silently, he kept pursuing the pursuers of the noble man.

  …

  It did not take long before the chase ended.

  It ended in a cave… a strange cave composed of an unusual shadow-black rock.

  Both the noble man and his attackers entered it. That would likely be the final stage of this whole affair.

  I guess it’s a dead end inside there. Should I enter now… or wait until they get out? It’s dangerous to go inside… but it’s so interesting as well. I want to know if it’s an essence or not. If it is, maybe I could find the opportunity to snatch it away?

  Faust closed his eyes while thinking, his frail muscles tensing from both excitement and anxiety. His heart beat a step faster, following the flurry of thoughts in his mind.

  Going inside the cave was dangerous but could provide interesting results. Waiting was safer but would deprive him of the chance to get anything for now.

  However, this “safety” was limited. How truly safe was he?

  If he found another wind wolf—one that this time did not play with him—would he survive? What if he found two of them? Even if they played with him, he would be food.

  Taking risks was necessary to progress. Usually, controlled risks are the best alternative, but inside this dungeon, Faust was in no control. Every wrong decision could be his last, while even theoretically good decisions could also end up reaping his life.

  Bravery… no, it was not that.

  A couple of minutes after the men were already inside the cave, Faust gave in and decided to venture inside.

  The cave inclined deeper into the ground as Faust walked further inside. It was almost pitch black, save for the pale moonlight that barely filtered in through the entrance.

  The walls were made of the same strange rock as outside, its black appearance creating the impression it was darker than it really was. In any case, Faust carefully threaded past the stalagmites, which reached close to the roof.

  Eventually, he heard an echoing scream and then voices from a distance.

  The three men were conversing.

  Hiding behind one of the stalagmites, Faust’s eyes began to adapt to the darkness as he watched the men having a final talk... at least for one of them.

  The noble man was laying on the cold stone, his hands severed and lying on the floor. Blood pooled beneath his body, his pale face could only hold a mixed look of regret and anger as he spoke between ragged breaths:

  “You beasts…” Blood spurted from his mouth. “You… do not understand what you are doing. You are condemning yourselves for a thing you cannot even use.”

  Meanwhile, one of the men was holding a bronze cube with several symbols drawn onto the metal. He wore a puzzled look with a tint of discontent.

  “What the fuck is this?” The attacker kicked the dying man. “What the fuck is this cube? Where’s the essence? Stop with your funny puzzles and give an answer, unless you’d rather have a painful death.”

  The other man kept quiet, his eyes holding a strange malice as he observed the dying man. Meanwhile, the noble gave an answer that irritated both of them.

  “Hah… what could be more painful than this?” He smiled cheekily, seemingly accepting his death. “Your words hold no more weight, idiotic beasts. But believe me, both you and your companion will have a death far worse than mine… Do you think she had no countermeasure? It’s a pity that my friend took longer than I could resist…”

  After saying his final words, the noble man departed from the world.

  Faust saw the scene and did not feel any heavy sentiment; his eyes were deadpan as he observed the now-corpse that would soon enoguh star rotting.

  The two men glared at each other, their eyes holding a complicated kiij.

  “Do you think we can sell that?” the one holding the cube asked.

  “Shit…” the other let out a heavy breath. “I wouldn’t have done all of that if I knew we were after a... cube.”

  “Obviously. You don’t even need to say that. Once we get out of this place, let’s find that piss-haired guy and have a nice conversation.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m… I’m dissatisfied, but I won’t throw my life away by confronting a mana user! We were the fools… of course he wouldn’t give us information about an essence so easily.”

  Their looks were complicated, and so were Faust’s thoughts. He had a strong, almost sure idea of who they were talking about. There was only one “piss-haired” mana user he had seen.

  Chris.

  Who truly is that bastard?! Faust inwardly cursed the blonde man. Not only had he attempted to kill him, but he had even given information about essences? Though it seemed there was no essence at all... false information. Why would he give false information? Never mind that, why would he even give any information about essences?

  Faust instantly pondered many questions, but before his mind could think further, he noticed the two men were walking toward him... no, toward the exit of the cave.

  Quickly, he changed positions and hid from their line of sight; the stalagmites helped greatly.

  They walked past Faust, cursing in low voices their failed attempt to get an essence. It had been too good to be true.

  As Faust watched them leave, suddenly—

  Sh. Thud.

  The man holding the cube collapsed to the ground, just a few steps away from Faust.

  In an instant, Faust found out why.

  The man had been shot by an arrow in his abdomen. His mouth foamed with a reddish liquid, a mixture of saliva and blood, and every facial orifice bled.

  His expression was one of complete agony, pain, and suffering, yet he could not emit a single sound.

  His partner reacted quickly and drew his sword, but before it was even completely out of the sheath, his chest was pierced by an arrow as well. Just like his dying companion, he fell to the ground and foamed reddish.

  Faust watched as sweat dripped down his face, his eyes focusing on the one who had shot the arrows.

  A cloaked person, wearing an ugly carved wooden mask that only revealed pitch-black eyes. Their hands held a metal bow, which was now aimed toward Faust.

  But how? How had he been seen?

  Before he could process what was happening, before he could consider the possibility of a mistake from entering the cave, an arrow was shot toward his face, aimed to kill him instantly.

  By pure instinct, Faust stepped back as he put his hand in front of his face. The arrow pierced it, passing through his palm and the back of his hand, stopping inside his right eye socket as the globe itself was completely pulped.

  Faust collapsed to the ground, falling between the stalagmites, barely alive as a powerful pain assaulted his entire being and scarlet foam left his mouth. He couldn’t move or speak but was still seeing through his remaining eye as the masked person stored the bronze cube inside their cloak and approached him, looking down with indifference.

  They spoke no words but simply stared down at Faust’s dying figure. Then, after a couple of seconds, they turned away and left the cave, leaving Faust behind to die alongside the two men.