The sun's rays fell upon sprawling golden stalks as the orange, cloud-draped sky hinted at approaching sunset.
Amid the farmland, Leeward strode slowly, tending his flock of sheep. His black hair, which reached his neck, looked disheveled and untidy, as if the wind had habitually toyed with it. A sparse beard added to his rough features, while a crooked scar bisected his left eye, indistinct in shape, yet leaving a cold mark on his gaze.
He raised his staff and waved it in the air.
"Hiss..."
The sheep obeyed and began to move, returning with him toward the village. There were only nine of them, but for a slave like him, they were a true fortune to be held in his hands.
His cloak quivered in a light, cold breeze, and he unconsciously pulled it tighter around his body
Sunset is approaching, and today will be the night of destiny I have planned. Either I will succeed, and all my plans will come to fruition, or I will fail and return to prison..."
His mind was preoccupied with the carefully crafted plan. Leeward was born a slave to a slave mother and lived his entire life torn between his pride and his misery. He could not accept the idea of serving anyone, despite his chains, and this constant rebellion brought him a severe beating every time.
And sometimes worse, he was sold back into the slave market as a worthless commodity.
He had been imprisoned many times for theft, and on some occasions, he had been accused of murder. For someone like him, murder was neither difficult nor hesitant.
But that never satisfied his pride; it only intensified it, until he became a living hell. So much so that his current master feared him and avoided provoking him whenever possible
The sheep he owned were the fruit of years of saving, He bought it from his own master, making sure to draw up a contract guaranteeing it was his alone, without dispute.
He felt the wheat stalks slapping against his legs, and his nose twitched for a moment.
"The smell of blood..."
His eyes widened suddenly. The air was thick with the cold scent of blood, coming from the north. He turned his head slowly, gazing at the horizon stretching before him, where the vast lands met the enchanting color of sunset.
The view was beautiful... deceptively so.
Then he caught a glimpse.
A small cart there, like a large rock. Something must have happened there.
He didn't pay attention at first, turning his gaze back to his sheep.
But the intensity of the smell grew harsher, as if pulling at him from within, arousing his curiosity and plunging deep into his being.
He stopped walkingAt that moment, a serious expression, one he hadn't shown in a long time, settled on his face.
"I'll just go and see what's going on there. If I don't go, I know I'll spend the night just thinking about it..."
He wanted to satisfy his curiosity, but it was anything but ordinary.
The smell of blood was sharp and suffocating, as if a full-blown massacre had taken place there.
A sharp smell of blood, as if some massacre had occurred there... This is just curiosity I can suppress, but what if I go and find bodies and get into trouble again? I might even be charged."
His thinking was logical, cautious, trying to keep himself out of trouble these days.
He knew all too well how one mistake could drag him back to prison... or worse.
But even so, he wasn't satisfied
That hidden voice deep inside him wouldn't fall silent.
Perhaps he might find a lot of money there, or gold, or even a rare spirit weapon.
Any of these things would completely change his situation... and perhaps give him a chance to finally buy his freedom.
"I don't know what's there, but perhaps I might find some things that could be useful to me..."
He turned his head toward his sheep, which were huddled in one spot, chewing the wheat stalks in complete silence, unaware of what was going through his mind.
He closed one eye.
His black robe rose slightly, as if suddenly inflated by the blow of an invisible trumpet, while a faint disturbance emanated from his body.
He had released his spirit field.
The spirit field was an extension of his soul outside his body, forming a slight aura around himLeeward was not merely a simple shepherd; originally, he was a warrior, having fought in many battles, not by his own will, but because of the greed of the masters who owned him.
And though he was capable of killing them at any time, the law was another matter.
Might alone does not buy freedom.
A person who falls without papers to prove his identity... his fate is known.
He is dragged to become a slave to one of the great clans.
The Charmins clan.
And that was the worst that could happen to him.
He was at the first rank: Body and Soul, and at the last transitional layer of four for each soul rank.
And he was very close to breaking into the second rank... the rank of the hardened warrior.
But Leeward had no resources to train.His social status was a constraint heavier than any chains.
He was now twenty-eight years old, and most of his peers had entered the second rank, or even surpassed it to higher ranks.
Yet he had never been affected by his surroundings.
He widened his spiritual field slightly, to cover a range of about five meters, cautiously scanning his surroundings.
He sensed any lurking wolf, or danger that might threaten his few sheep.
"There's nothing, I'll go quickly and return..."
He pressed his legs, strengthened his muscles with spiritual energy, and then leaped with tremendous force, leaving behind a muffled thump that echoed in the air.
The first leap was not very great.
He leaped ten times in a row, each leap covering a distance of about ten meters, until at last he reached the chariot.
And there....It was a shock.
But his gaze remained cold, unchanged.
He showed no obvious interest, but worry crept silently into him.
Dead horses.
The bodies of royal knights strewn about.
And a huge pool of blood covered the ground, emitting a suffocating, putrid stench.
Eleven, truly. Royal knights of the Shar Men clan. Whoever did this, I don't think they'll get away with it...
His worry eased slightly when he realized the truth.
The weakest knight among them... he could have killed him without a hitch.
That alone would have cleared him of suspicion.
But even so, he began to scrutinize the injuries on the corpses.
The lacerations weren't random; they were like the talons of an eagle or a lion, marks he didn't quite understandWith each corpse he examined, his conclusion became more and more entrenched.
This is a massacre, done by one person. Every killing here was clean, and whoever did this seems to be of high rank.
The bodies were cut up precisely, without mess, without hesitation.
The work of someone who knew exactly how to kill.
He stepped into the pool of blood, his feet sinking into it, as he continued forward until he reached the carriage.
It was torn apart, completely smashed, as if it had been subjected to a brutal and merciless attack.
He didn't trouble his mind trying to figure out who was responsible.
That no longer mattered to him.
What he wanted was to take advantage of what had happened... and leave as quickly as possible.
He reached the carriage from the back and reached over its shattered wooden frame, examining what remained of it.
When he glanced inside the rear, his body frozeSuddenly.
There...
He saw black burlap sacks.
Not one, but several.
They looked full and heavy, filled with valuables.
"These are sacks."
A slight smile touched his face.
He realized that a huge fortune lay before him.
But whose did it belong to?
And why hadn't the perpetrator of this crime taken it?
Everything was shrouded in mystery.
He felt a flicker of happiness creep over him, but he immediately suppressed it, his expression returning to its usual coldness.
He considered taking some diamonds or gold, so he climbed into the carriage first
He reached for one of the bags and opened it carefully.
Inside...
Gold.
Lots of gold.
Its gleam reflected off his face, so brightly it almost betrayed him.
"This is my chance to buy my freedom... No, no, I won't touch this, but I can take some and leave without anyone discovering me..."
A fierce struggle raged within him.
If he bought his freedom all at once, he would be discovered quickly.
Where would a slave like him get such wealth?
That question alone was enough to plunge him into a stifling dilemma as he stared at the gold before him, unable to make a decision...