The sun rose on the third day of their escape, yet the light greeting Vaelen and Isolde wasn't a hopeful golden ray. The sky on the eastern horizon was a bruised grey, covered in thick overcast clouds promising a storm.
The Grey Woods slowly thinned behind them. The dead, pale-wooded trees gave way to Iron Pine trees with sharp, dark green needles. The air no longer smelled of sulfur and rotting meat, but of wet earth and distant woodsmoke.
Signs of civilization.
Vaelen stopped the carriage on a gentle hill overlooking a vast valley.
"We're out," Vaelen said hoarsely.
He climbed down from the driver's seat—he had taken over the reins after sunrise so Isolde could sleep for a bit. His body felt stiff.
Vaelen took out their last ration: a piece of hard bread stolen from the bandits. He took a bite. It tasted bland. The texture was like chewing wet cardboard.
Vaelen swallowed with difficulty. Not because the bread was bad, but because his tongue was broken.
[System Warning: Nutrition Source Invalid]
[Abyssal Root Craving: Biomass/Essence.]
[Status: Hollow Hunger rising.]
After consuming the rich and intoxicating "Essence" of Fenrir, normal human food no longer satisfied his hunger. Vaelen felt like a drug addict forced to drink plain water after a month of partying. His stomach wasn't physically hungry, but his body's cells were screaming for "meat".
"Damn it," Vaelen cursed softly, throwing the rest of the bread into the bushes. "So this is the price. I have to keep hunting forever."
The carriage door opened. Isolde stepped down, her face still pale with dark bags under her eyes, but her dress had been tidied as much as possible. She looked at the view below the hill.
About five kilometers ahead, a military border outpost guarded by sturdy stone walls bisected the main road. The flag of the Kingdom of Eisenwald—a black eagle with a sword in its talons—fluttered listlessly atop the watchtower.
"Vorhelm Outpost," Isolde said, recognizing the structure. "The outermost limit of human territory. After that wall, we are on the safe road to Oakhaven City."
"Safe is a relative word," Vaelen wiped his mouth. He turned to Isolde. "Now the hard part begins. You have to act."
"Act?"
"Our carriage is half-destroyed, full of claw marks, and bloody. You look like a war refugee, and I..." Vaelen pointed to himself wearing a mix of bandit leather armor and noble underclothes, "...look like the bandit who just robbed you."
Isolde nodded slowly. She understood. If they entered honestly and said "We were attacked by monsters," they would be detained for interrogation. News would spread. Uncle Hendor would know Isolde was alive before they reached the capital.
"So, what's the plan?" Isolde asked. Her voice no longer trembled like yesterday. The experience of seeing the Ghoul corpse had hardened her heart a little.
Vaelen smiled thinly. "The plan is arrogance. We will lie in the way nobles like best."
***
One hour later.
The black-iron carriage rolled closer to the Vorhelm Outpost gate. Although the wood was cracked and one window was broken, the Valstyx family crest—the Crystal Rose—was still clearly visible on the door.
Two gate guards playing dice immediately stood up, staring suspiciously at the damaged vehicle. They brandished their spears.
"Halt!" shouted one guard, a pockmarked sergeant. "Identify! What happened to your carriage?"
The carriage stopped. Vaelen didn't get down. He sat on the driver's seat, staring at the sergeant with a bored gaze.
"Step aside, Sergeant. We are in a hurry," Vaelen said coldly.
"I said identify!" snapped the Sergeant, offended by Vaelen's tone. "You look suspicious. Get down, or we will drag you—"
BANG!
The carriage door slammed open. Not Vaelen, but Isolde stepped down.
The girl stepped out. She was indeed dirty, her dress torn at the hem, and her hair a bit messy. But her posture was perfectly upright. Her chin was lifted high with an arrogance trained for 17 years in the palace.
She looked at the Sergeant as if the man were dirt stuck to her shoe.
"Did you just threaten my servant, Sergeant?" Isolde's voice was sharp and cold like the Eisenwald winter wind.
The Sergeant fell silent for a moment, stuttering at the pure noble aura. "Uh... Miss? Apologies, but protocol requires..."
"Protocol?" Isolde laughed insultingly. "I am Lady Isolde Valstyx, third daughter of Viscount Valstyx. My carriage was attacked by incompetent monsters in The Grey Woods because the security in this region is pathetic!"
She threw a pouch filled with gold coins—which Vaelen had previously taken from Fenrir's corpse—at the sergeant's feet. The pouch burst, glittering gold coins spilling onto the muddy ground.
The guards' eyes widened.
"That is a year's worth of your salary," Isolde hissed. "Take it, fix this stupid gate so monsters don't get in, and get out of my way. I want a hot bath before lunch, and if you detain me for five more minutes, I ensure your sergeant badge will be stripped by tomorrow morning."
The Sergeant swallowed hard. He saw gold, he saw the Valstyx crest, and he saw the undeniable anger of a spoiled noble. His fear of monsters or bandits vanished, replaced by the fear of losing his position (and greed for gold).
He immediately gave a stiff salute. "F-Forgive this servant's ignorance, Milady! Please pass! Open the gate! Quickly!"
Isolde snorted, turned, and went back into the carriage, slamming the door.
Perfect.
Vaelen smirked at the guards who were now busy picking up coins from the ground.
"You heard the Great Lady," Vaelen said to the guard while winking. "Move."
Vaelen whipped the horses. The carriage sped past the gate without inspection, without questions about dead guards, and without official records because the guards would be busy splitting the bribe money secretly.
Inside the carriage, as soon as they passed the city wall boundary and moved away, Isolde's arrogant mask crumbled. She slumped in the seat, her breath heaving.
"Very good," Vaelen's voice came from behind the driver's wall. "You have the talent to be a tyrant."
"That... that was terrifying," Isolde whispered, her hands trembling. "Uncle Hendor always said, money and anger can open more doors than politeness."
"Your uncle is a bastard, but he's right," Vaelen replied.
***
They arrived at Oakhaven City in the afternoon. It wasn't a big city, just a transit town for lumber and mining merchants, but compared to the forest, it was paradise.
Stone houses with chimneys puffing white smoke, crowded taverns, and street lamps starting to be lit.
Vaelen directed the carriage to The Iron Barrel inn—a place recommended by one of the bandit's memories as "a place that doesn't ask much as long as you have money".
Vaelen jumped down. He wore his hood to cover part of his face.
"I will book rooms and food," Vaelen said to Isolde as he helped the girl down. "Two rooms. Adjacent. You need a bath and a change of clothes. This 'war refugee' look is too conspicuous here."
They entered the inn lobby which was warm and smelled of ale and roasted meat.
A fat innkeeper welcomed them. His eyes assessed their damaged but expensive clothes.
"Best room for the Lady, and one standard room for the guard," Vaelen said, placing two silver coins on the counter.
"Certainly, Sir. Food?"
"Send to the room. Meat. Lots of meat. Rare."
Isolde glanced at Vaelen upon hearing that order.
After the business was done, Vaelen escorted Isolde to her room on the second floor. Before leaving the girl, Vaelen held the door for a moment.
"Tonight, after you clean up, come to my room. We need to talk about my new identity."
"Alright. Vaelen..." Isolde hesitated for a moment. "Thank you."
Vaelen just nodded briefly and closed the door.
He entered his own room—a narrow room with a straw bed and a window facing a dark back alley.
Once alone, Vaelen slumped, leaning against the door. His hand clutched his chest.
His face changed. Black veins crawled up his neck. The hunger came again, triggered by the smell of so many humans in this inn. Hundreds of hearts beating around this building. Weak Qi, but plentiful.
Vaelen felt like a wolf released in a sheep pen. His saliva dripped uncontrollably.
"Calm down..." he hissed to himself. "Don't eat indiscriminately. Not here."
He took out the last piece of jerky from his pocket, eating it ravenously, but it didn't help.
Vaelen limped to the window, opening it to breathe the cold night air.
In the back alley down there, he saw three drunk men cornering an old prostitute. Their rough laughter, the sound of tearing clothes, and the woman's crying.
Vaelen narrowed his eyes.
His Entropy System eyes analyzed them.
[Target: Human Trash]
[Sin Value: High]
[Essential Energy: Rank 9 Low]
[Witnesses: None.]
The corner of Vaelen's lips lifted to form a smile that was too wide, touching his ears—like a monster's smile.
"Looks like dinner is served," he whispered.
Vaelen climbed out the window, moving in the wall's shadow, descending into that dark alley without a sound.
Isolde could have a hot bath and eat warm soup. But Vaelen needed something redder to keep his sanity intact before leaving for the Capital tomorrow.
The night in Oakhaven had just begun, and in the dark alleys, rumors of the "Sin-Eating Shadow" were about to be born.