In the fog, he felt like a bad demon in a hollow void, blind to distance, yet counting every passing second.
Alone, he could not escape it, but luckily he had someone who could see through it.
"Hold onto this."
Selvar's voice cut through the heavy mist like a sharp blade.
Oren turned and froze.
Where is he?
He did not know where Selvar was, so his hand gripped the air in several places. He looked like a blind man.
Only then did he hear a laugh from beside him.
Facing the direction of the noise, Oren heard Selvar cough twice, then speak.
"Ahem. What are you doing?"
A shiver ran down Oren's spine.
After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke.
"You had said hold onto something. I am guessing it was the rope tied around your bow, was it not?"
Oren's tone darkened.
"I am simply trying to find it. But since you can see through this wretched fog, you could have just placed it in my hand."
Selvar chuckled and placed the rope in Oren's hand. Was he also trying to make a fool of him, like the Auburn Huntress had?
Oren tightened his grip, his fingers curling more firmly around it as they pressed on through the haze.
Within the mist, each step felt stretched thin, as though the world itself had slowed, trapping them in a moment that refused to end.
When Oren tripped over the rough, unknown objects that lay scattered on the floor of the mist, when he fell into a scarce tree, the rope always pulled him back to his feet instantly.
Uneasy and slightly confused, he suddenly heard a crunch, but assuming it was a branch of a long fallen tree, he dismissed it and descended deeper into the haunting grey fog.
The sound of their footsteps against the unseen ground had grown faint after a while.
Leaving Oren with his dreadful thoughts on how he would fulfil the deal he and Selvar had made... why he felt compelled to try and leave the mountains.
There was nothing stopping him. It would not be trial and error. It would not be difficult. It would lead to one destined conclusion, because he could leave easily.
But for Oren, even thinking of it felt impossible.
Maybe it was because he had been there for hundreds of years, so vast that he no longer remembered everything.
Oren looked around the fog, searching for an end, but there was nothing.
Nothing but an endless grey, so wrong and peculiar that it felt as though it was staring back at him.
Air there, fog erols here too? Is this a place where the world's energy is dense? Is this an erol's doing?
He could not help but tell Selvar.
"If you see any valuable resources or any fog erols," Oren pondered for a moment, then added, "if you find anything of worth, pick it up so we can sell it in Everdream. They must have many more uses."
Selvar did not argue. Because of their deal, this was as though a command. Selvar was quite fortunate, actually.
He was fortunate because the Immortal Demon was not really a demon. If he had still made a deal knowing Xeyren was malevolent, that would be no different than making a deal with the devil.
In the silence, after Oren requested that of Selvar, he felt the archer stop several times, seemingly to pick valuables and erols up from the ground.
How will I find the erol Selvar seeks?
In the past, Oren, after countless battles and betrayals, loitered near the fallen corpses of people in places that were said to be dense with world energy.
After years, when he returned, they had either decayed or turned into something useful.
The fog pressed against his tattered robes as he remained deep in thought.
To narrow it down even more, he assumed that the ability of the erol was tied to what the second reactant was.
So if one wanted to enhance their mind, they would most likely have to separate the brain from the head at least several times to improve chances and heighten the actual ability of the outcome.
Will I have to kill even more people for this deal?
No, there must be another way, such as animals.
Because they were humans wishing to enhance their minds, sight, and other senses, Oren could not simply leave random resources like rocks and wood in peculiar places, then wait years for them to turn into a creature.
The world remained shapeless in the fog, making Oren's expression shift from curiosity to indifference, then finally to concern.
Just how long did the fog stretch on?
Oren stumbled again. This time he heard Selvar's voice.
"How many times will the demon fall?"
Glancing back at Oren's frown, he laughed and raised his arms, rope in hand.
"I am just joking. I promise. It is just a joke, Xeyren. Do not be so rough around the edges."
Oren ignored his words.
He questioned if they were still in the forest and if it was just the mist making their senses vulnerable.
And Selvar did not need to say a word. Oren did not need the grey eyes of the Enlightened archer to know when it came to an end.
Because there, he could see it.
Just like the mist of the fog erol, at its end, it distorted and shifted, like a gap between something and nothing, revealing the outside world.
He could see the weathered paved stones dulled by a dark red. He did not give it a second thought. He just knew that the stench was horrible.
Oren's posture relaxed, looking at the still warped images in the distance, then turned behind him where the fog was absolute.
And just like that, with the pull of the rope, they made it through the fog.
....
Standing outside the fog, the cobblestone roads were clean and pristine. Oren watched them tilt upwards slightly toward the great border.
The outer settlements of Everdream clung to the mountainside in layers of terraces, buildings of stone and timber, wide and narrow walkways connecting them like veins.
Their wooden rooftops caught the first light of dawn, while stone paved paths twisted between the terraced homes.
To the left, just beyond the outer settlements, the pure lake mirrored the mountain and sky, its calm surface a stark contrast to the mist creeping in from the forest beyond.
To the right, it was as though a vast slope carved by nature itself had descended from the mountain's right side, shaped especially for Everdream.
Beyond the last terrace, the cliffs dropped sharply, sloping seamlessly with the mountain.
The dense forest before the fog marked the edge of human reach.
Where Oren and Selvar stood marked where the fog began, thick and unyielding, stretching like a grey wall behind them.
To Oren, it looked like Everdream's left side was climbing the mountains, whilst its back was on the edge, about to fall.
Far above, the fourth mountain's peak was distant yet impossibly high, a silent sentinel over the valley below.
It dwarfed the other three peaks of the mountain chain, piercing the dawn sky with its sharp edges.
Everdream was most definitely the biggest village out of the four mountains. The mountain itself was also the largest, but for some reason it all felt, looked even, familiar.
Letting go of the rope, Oren chuckled, drawing Selvar's attention.
"What is it? Is something funny?"
Oren shook his head.
"No, it is just that we were walking through the wall of fog for a while. Actually, I am surprised. I did not even know a day had passed."
Turning back toward the border entrance, Selvar nodded sharply, as if lost in memory.
"Oh well," he said, "it happens sometimes. Especially in the fog. There is nothing new, only the familiar grey. It is like closing your eyes in a way."
"I see." Oren glanced at the endless grey wall, then started walking toward the border.
They reached the gate in an instant.
The line was small. People were scarce, for most who left the city and entered the grey wall never returned.
Those standing in line had either arrived in Everdream by luck, experience, or simply had not ventured far enough to get lost in the mist.
The guard on the left side flinched like a veteran of war, noticing his partner's unknown fear of the two travellers.
The guard on the right asked carefully, "You two there," his eyes darkened as he added, "come forth."
But when noticing the scared man, his voice fell instantly.
The man in front was handsome.
His pale blonde hair was messy yet clean, and his complexion was even paler than his hair, as though he had lost blood.
He was staring at the man behind the archer.
He was tall, tall enough to tower over any average person, but it was not his height that unsettled them.
His face was a map of violence.
Scars crossed over cuts, slashes carved into older wounds, piercings that should have never closed, yet somehow had.
The skin had healed, but not kindly. It looked as though it remembered every blade.
The guard gulped. Sweat pooled beneath his neck and before he knew it his armour felt heavier than usual.
There were several self inflicted injuries, as though the insane man had attacked himself in an endless rampage.
Looking closer, he noticed the crazed eyes of something unholy, yet the man's abyssal golden eyes were impossibly pure.
Then his eyes slowly lowered to the bulge of his throat. Their mouths opened wide in horror.
It took them a moment to realize the arrow plunged into his neck. For some reason, the man did not show any pain.
Was he suppressing the intense pain? Did he feel anything to begin with?
Oren stepped forward. He wore a calm expression that made them both step back instinctively.
Is he a ghost...? No, a demon.
Oren stepped forward behind Selvar. But just as Selvar opened his mouth, Oren shoved him aside. And spared him a short knowing glare.
"Silence," he said.
"If you want to live, old man."
Selvar was his slave, his hostage for the foreseeable future.
Oren knew that sooner or later, the whole of Everdream would learn he was the Immortal Demon.
Why wait until he was vulnerable and comfortable?
It would be better to invoke fear first.
A well timed show of authority would earn him respect as an ordinary man rather than draw attack.
In this age, authority shown over even an Enlightened was a mark of power. And since Selvar was an archer whose sight was keen enough to see through the fog, he was precious to them.
That was if they knew what Selvar was capable of.
Should I tell them? No, they will find out soon enough.
The guard slowly raised his spear. At a gesture from his companion, he paused.
"How did you get through the fog? And who are you?"
Oren smiled and gestured toward Selvar.
"It is quite simple, my slave can see through the fog. That is how we got here, and that is why we plan to stay."
Oren waited for a moment then smiled sincerely, "we will not be leaving."
The guard's eyes widened.
"Oh really?"
The left guard lifted his arm defensively and spoke more firmly.
"Do not make this harder than it has to be, you will not pass without answering the necessary questions. Identify yourselves."
The right guard's expression darkened, as though he expected trouble far above his pay grade.
Am I thinking too highly of myself?
When Oren finally spoke, Selvar's grey eyes darkened into black.
"I have walked many lands. Rosain. Emperois. Riverdam. Yet none compare to Everdream, if the rumours are true."
Oren continued.
"Perhaps you have heard of me. No… I am certain you have."
A faint, crooked smile touched his lips.
As he spoke, the guards shivered and instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons.
"I am the demon who came from nothing... I am the Immortal Demon, Xeyren."