Ch 89 - A Way Out

I stepped into the flimsy town near the southern border of the Zephinya Kingdom, a place that stood in stark contrast to the big city of the nation. The buildings were weathered, their wooden frames creaking under the weight of time and wind. The streets bustled with merchants hawking monster parts, weapons, and other wares to travelers and adventurers alike. The air was thick with the scent of roasted monster meat and the faint tang of smoke from nearby forges. This was where the civilized world met the untamed wilds—a place where people came to disappear, to slip through the cracks of the kingdom and vanish into the unknown.

I had been on the run for five days, my body aching and my mind racing with every step. The memory of the dragon’s appearance and the terror it had instilled in me was still fresh, haunting my thoughts. I couldn’t afford to stop, not until I was far beyond the borders of this kingdom. The southern gate was my only hope, but getting past it was proving far more difficult than I had anticipated.

The main gate loomed in the distance, a towering structure of stone and iron that marked the edge of the Zephinya Kingdom. Guards patrolled the area with sharp eyes and hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Mages stood at the ready, their presence a reminder of the kingdom’s iron grip on order. They scrutinized every traveler, checking papers and belongings with a level of thoroughness that made my stomach churn.

I crouched behind a stack of crates near the edge of town, my hood pulled low to obscure my face. The walls stretched endlessly across the mountainous terrain, their surfaces etched with glowing arrays that pulsed faintly in the dim light. These arrays were designed to keep monsters out—and people like me in.

Beyond the walls lay the no man’s land, a wild and lawless expanse teeming with monsters and adventurers. It was a place where strength ruled and the weak perished, governed by no nation or law. For someone like me, it was the perfect place to disappear.

But getting there was another matter entirely.

I glanced around, scanning the area for any possible way out. The gate was out of the question—there was no way I could get past the guards without drawing attention. The walls were too high to climb, and the arrays would likely fry me to a crisp if I tried to tamper with them.

My only option was to find another way.

I knew there were always groups smuggling goods—and sometimes people—across the border. I just needed to find information about them without alerting the guards. The best place to gather such intel was the local tavern.

But before I could head there, I needed money. In this town, the most important thing was currency, and the coins minted by the Bastion of Rugged Adventurers and Vanguards of Eldoria—BRAVE—were the standard. BRAVE ruled the no man’s land, their influence so vast that their currency was accepted across nations. After the Church of Virtues, BRAVE held power rivaling even the nine great nations, including Zephinya.

I pulled out a cloth bag from my pack and made my way to the market. The place was alive with activity, with stalls selling everything from monster parts to weapons and armor. I headed straight for the meat market, where the smell of fresh game filled the air.

Approaching a bored-looking shopkeeper, I put on a pleasant smile. “Good evening, sir. I’ve got some fresh meat to sell. Interested?”

The old man raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? What’ve you got, kid?”

I pulled out a dozen fish I had caught downhill. They were still fresh, their scales glinting in the dim light.

The shopkeeper inspected them, his expression unreadable. “Larkfish, huh? They’re in good shape. A decent haul. How much are you asking for the batch?”

I hesitated, realizing I had no idea what to charge. Panicking, I blurted out a random number. “Fifty brass coins?”

The shopkeeper gave me a scrutinizing look. Was it too much?

Before I could backtrack, he sighed. “Listen, kid. You must be new to this. I’ll give you eight brass per fish. There are thirteen here, so that’s 104 brass coins. I’ll round it up to 105 so you’ll come back to me in the future. Nobody bothers fishing around here—it’s too cold. But I’ll make an exception for you, provided you sell to me from now on.”

I blinked, surprised by his offer, and nodded quickly. “Thank you!”

He handed me a pouch of coins, and I left the stall, clutching my newfound wealth. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Now, with coins in hand, I could finally head to the tavern and find a way out of this kingdom.

Clutching the pouch of bronze coins, I made my way to the tavern, calculating the risks and rewards of my meager earnings. In this world, 100 bronze coins equaled one copper, 1,000 copper a single silver, and 1,000 silver a gold—universal ratios, though their value fluctuated between nations. If I could scrape together enough, perhaps I could buy passage out of this cursed kingdom.

The town’s alleys twisted like serpentine shadows, their grime-slicked walls teeming with figures who lurked in doorways or huddled around dim fires. Their eyes followed me—hungry, calculating. Slavers, thieves, cutthroats. I kept my hood low and my steps quick.

Finally, I spotted the tavern: a sagging wooden sign creaked above a stairwell descending into a basement. The air thickened with the reek of stale ale and unwashed bodies as I entered. Inside, the room buzzed with raucous laughter, the clatter of tankards, and the low hum of deals struck in corners. A waitress wove through the crowd, her arms laden with sloshing jugs.

I approached the bar, where a grizzled bartender scowled at a smudged glass. Without glancing up, he slid a chipped mug toward me. “Twenty bronze,” he grunted.

“I didn’t order this,” I said.

He met my gaze, his eyes flinty. “Take it or leave.”

Reluctantly, I handed over the coins. The ale tasted like vinegar, but I forced it down. Leaning closer, I dropped my voice. “I need… assistance. A way out of the kingdom.”

The bartender snorted, polishing the glass harder. “This ain’t a charity. You want help? Pay.”

I slid a fistful of bronze across the counter. He pocketed it with a derisive smirk. “Miguel,” he said, nodding toward the far corner. A man in a faded turban sat there, flanked by two rough-looking companions. “He’s your problem now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With a quiet nod to myself, I rose from my seat and made my way toward Miguel. He stood out in the dim, smoky tavern—his tan skin and faded turban marking him as someone from far beyond these borders. At the moment, he was deep in conversation with a desperate-looking couple seated across from him.

Not wanting to interrupt, I slid into a nearby seat, clutching my jug of ale. I pretended to sip casually, but my ears were sharp, catching every word of their hushed exchange.

“That’s too much,” the man pleaded, his voice trembling. “Can’t you lower the price?”

Miguel shook his head, his expression unyielding. “Ten silver per person. That’s the rate. The borders are tighter than ever since the royal palace attack and the death of Lux Sentinel. Some dark guild’s been stirring up trouble, and the guards are on high alert. You think I’m risking my neck for free?”

My ears perked up at the mention of the royal palace attack. Done by Damien and his guild? It sounded too bold, too reckless—even for them.

The woman, holding a baby close to her chest, spoke up next. “But if we don’t leave, the guards are already searching for us. We’ll be slaves—or, worse, executed.”

Miguel leaned back, his arms crossed. “I get it. I do. But for the three of you, it’s fifteen silver. Upfront. No exceptions.”

The man’s hands shook as he pulled out two small pouches. “Here—twelve silver coins and this pouch has eighteen hundred copper. Please, I beg you, take it. Just… spare my child.” He bowed his head, his voice breaking.

I took another sip of ale, my eyes darting toward them as I absorbed every detail.

Miguel glanced around the tavern, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Stop begging. You’re drawing attention.” His sharp eyes swept the room, and I quickly averted my gaze, pretending to focus on my drink.

The woman joined her husband, bowing her head as well. “Sir, we’ve given you everything we have. Please… help us.”

Miguel sighed, his resolve cracking under their desperation. “Fine,” he muttered, snatching the pouches from the table. “Only because I know what it’s like to be a father. But don’t think this makes me soft.”

The couple’s faces lit up with relief. “Thank you! Thank you so much! You’ve saved us!”

“Enough,” Miguel hissed, cutting them off. “Meet me behind the town church at four in the morning. Sharp. Don’t bring too much luggage—the passage is narrow, and it’s not a walk in the park. And not a word to anyone. Got it?”

They nodded fervently, their gratitude spilling over in whispered thanks.

As they left, I sat back, my mind racing. Little did they know, my sharp ears had caught every word of their plan. Now, all I had to do was figure out how to use this information to my advantage.

I drained the last of my ale and left the tavern, the bitter taste lingering on my tongue. The thought of Miguel’s fee—ten silver coins per person—weighed heavily on my mind. Even if I fished every day, earning a hundred bronze coins, it would take me over twenty-six years to scrape together enough for a single passage. Time I didn’t have.

The only option remaining was to follow them quietly and slip through unnoticed. Risky, yes, but it was the only practical plan.

I left the town to gather supplies for the journey. Hunting a few rabbits and foraging for berries, I packed my bag with what little I could find. Out there, beyond the walls, food and resources would be scarce. I needed to be prepared.

Exhausted, I camped in one of the mountain caves outside the town, the cold stone walls offering little comfort. After a short nap, I woke just before nightfall and hurried back to town before the gates closed.

The streets were quieter now, the bustle of the market replaced by the occasional murmur of late-night stragglers. I lingered near the stalls, browsing monster parts and supplies, biding my time until the gates shut at two in the morning.

When the town fell silent, I made my way to the church, hiding in the shadows nearby. The couple was already there, early and anxious. The woman cradled a sleeping baby, her face pale in the moonlight, while the man paced nervously, his eyes darting around.

They were ready. And so was I.

At precisely 4 a.m., Miguel emerged from the shadows, his arrival met with silent relief from the couple—and a flicker of anticipation from me. He leaned close, murmuring instructions too low for even my sharp ears to catch, before gesturing for them to follow. The trio slipped into the maze of alleys, their footsteps swallowed by the predawn gloom. I trailed behind, my breaths shallow, every muscle coiled to avoid the slightest crunch of gravel or rustle of cloth.

The path twisted deeper into the town’s forgotten corners, past sagging buildings and overgrown courtyards, until Miguel halted at a derelict fountain. Its stonework was crumbling, the basin dry and littered with debris. Moss clung to its edges, and the air smelled of damp decay—a relic abandoned after some long-ago disaster, perhaps a monster’s rampage from the wilds.

Miguel knelt, his hands scrabbling at a hidden hatch beneath the fountain’s edge. With a grunt, he pried it open, revealing a gaping maw of darkness. The couple hesitated, clutching their child tighter, before vanishing one by one into the void. I waited, counting the seconds, until silence settled over the ruins.

Creeping forward, I eased the hatch open and peered into the tunnel below. The stench of stagnant water hit me first, but the passage itself was wide enough to crawl through—a forgotten drainage line, its walls slick with algae. Swallowing my unease, I lowered myself into the gloom, the hatch clicking shut above me like a tomb seal. The darkness pressed in, but ahead, faint shuffles echoed: the sound of desperate hope and my only way out.

I crept silently through the drainage tunnels, following the muffled echoes of Miguel’s group ahead. The sewers sprawled beneath the city like a labyrinth, a maze of stone channels filled with icy, stagnant water that reeked of waste—every drop of the town’s piss and feces flowed through these veins. The stench was unbearable, but the faint sound of a crying infant guided me forward, leading me at last to the base of a rusted ladder. Above, Miguel and the couple slipped through a sewer lid, sealing it shut behind them.

I waited, my breath shallow, then climbed the ladder and cracked the lid just enough to peer out. The world above was a desolate stretch of rocky terrain behind the skeletal remains of a ruined mansion. We were still within the kingdom’s borders—the jagged mountains that served as Zephinya’s natural barricade loomed in the distance, their peaks clawing at the sky. But Miguel seemed undeterred.

He paced along the rocky outcrop, running his fingers over the stone like a man reading braille. The couple hovered nervously, the infant now strapped tightly to the father’s chest. After a tense minute, Miguel paused, gripped a jagged edge of rock, and yanked.

The stone rippled unnaturally, like fabric billowing in reverse. With a hiss, the illusion collapsed—the rocky facade deflated like a punctured bladder, revealing a narrow crevice in the mountainside. It was barely wider than a man’s shoulders, a jagged slit swallowed by shadows.

Miguel ducked inside without hesitation. The couple followed, squeezing sideways into the gap, the infant’s whimpers muffled against its father’s cloak. My pulse quickened. This was the path to freedom—a hidden artery through the mountains, unseen by guards and untouched by the kingdom’s arrays. If the stories were true, it would spill out into the lawless wilds beyond Zephinya’s grip.

But doubt prickled at my mind. What lay on the other side? Monsters? Bandits? Or worse—Miguel’s wrath if he discovered my presence? Yet there was no turning back. The walls were a cage, and this crevice, however treacherous, was the only key.

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Trivia:

Bastion of Rugged Adventurers and Vanguards of Eldoria (BRAVE)

BRAVE is a coalition of the strongest warriors, dedicated to countering the relentless threat of mana beasts and protecting the people of Eldoria. They also manage the global adventurers' network, distributing quests and organizing expeditions when the ruling nations fall short.

Unlike the strict requirements imposed on aspiring Imperial Mages, anyone—regardless of innate power—can register as an adventurer if they have the guts and the adventurer's spirit to take on even the most modest tasks in support of their cause.

With power rivaling that of the Church, the BRAVE coalition holds significant influence across the world. However, their extensive authority has also led the Church and various nations to impose restrictions and rules to keep their might in check.