Ch 94 - It’s a Part of You

I followed Luc through the bustling streets, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer variety of food stalls lining the roads. The air was thick with the rich, smoky aroma of barbecued monster meats, the sharp tang of fried zesty silkworm—a mana-rich delicacy—and even the rare scent of grilled leviathan eel, a fish-monster prized for its tender flesh and fleeting availability.

Despite the tempting options, Luc didn’t spare them a glance. Instead, he led me toward a small shop nestled between the larger food stalls.

As we approached, the atmosphere subtly changed. The crowd here was different—fewer grizzled adventurers and more couples chatting softly while sharing a treat. Small children tugged at their parents’ hands, their eyes alight with excitement as they eagerly reached out for paper bags handed over the counter.

Luc stepped into line with a patience I hadn’t seen from him before.

I glanced up at the sign and blinked. A donut shop?

The warm, sugary scent in the air confirmed it. The rich aroma of freshly fried dough mixed with hints of cinnamon and melted glaze made my stomach grumble despite myself.

I peered at Luc, curiosity growing. I never took him for a sweet tooth.

Luc finally reached the counter, his order ready on his lips. “I’ll take four large combo sets—the Chocolate Feast, Rainbow Break, the Signature Combo, and the Monthly Special.”

The attendant, a woman with flour-dusted hands, raised an eyebrow at the large quantity of items but nodded professionally. “That’s a great choice! Your total will be twenty-five copper and eleven bronze coins. Would you like any of the combos served here, or should I pack everything to go?”

“All four will be eaten right here,” Luc replied smoothly, handing over the money without hesitation, “Keep the change.”

The woman hesitated for a split second, taken aback, but quickly complied. A few moments later, two massive trays were placed in front of him, stacked high with a dazzling assortment of sugar-coated, icing-drizzled, and sprinkle-covered donuts.

The large number of sweets attracted astonished glances from other customers. Luc eagerly grabbed two trays and headed to a corner table to catch a seat. Meanwhile, I stood puzzled, observing Luc’s new side.

“And what would you like?” the attendant turned to me.

I forgot I was also in the queue.

“…Just one chocolate donut,” I muttered.

Unlike Luc, I wasn’t a big fan of sugar like he was. Although I was hungry, I don’t plan on filling my stomach with sweets for sure.

I grabbed my single donut and sat across from him. By the time I settled in, Luc had already begun devouring his first pastry, his expression one of pure bliss. There was something oddly childlike about the way his usually tired eyes softened in delight as he chewed.

“You… actually plan to eat all of that?” I asked, biting into my own donut.

Luc’s arms instinctively wrapped around his trays, dragging them closer.
“You better not even think about taking one.”

I raised my hands in surrender.
“Relax, I’m not planning to steal your precious donuts. Just surprised you can finish that much.”

“This?” he gestured at his mountain of sweets before taking another bite.
“This is nothing. I still need a proper meal after this.”

I shook my head.
“You’re a bottomless pit.”

Luc didn’t even refute it. Instead, he continued eating, savoring each bite as if he had all the time in the world.

“This donut is delicious, though,” I admitted.

He nodded in agreement.
“Yeah. I’ll have to pack some extra for the road.”

I nearly choked.
“Shouldn’t we focus on real food and supplies?”

Luc suddenly stopped chewing and fixed me with a dead-serious stare. “Listen, kid,” he said gravely, “I need my sugar intake daily. Otherwise, I get cranky. And trust me, that’s not good for me… or the world.”

There was a profound seriousness in his statement that I had not seen before. The crumbs stuck to his mouth ruined the intimidation factor, but I felt he wasn’t joking.

“…Right,” I muttered, deciding not to push the subject further. Instead, I leaned in, shifting to a more relevant topic. “So, about this Jura Forest—what kind of place is it?”

Luc, now on his fourth donut, barely spared me a glance.
“Just a forest. With annoying people. Nothing special.”

I frowned. “That’s not helpful. Where is it? How long until we get there?”

He hummed thoughtfully, finishing off another pastry. “It's a long journey, but I’ve made arrangements through my connections. If everything goes well, we’ll reach by next month, maybe even earlier if no trouble arises.”

I gaped, “Hey! That’s a long journey!”

Luc simply shrugged and took another bite.

We focused on finishing the donuts in relative silence, though Luc suddenly stopped mid-bite and looked at me. "Oh, we need to get some winter gear before we depart."

I paused, mid-chew, and frowned. "Winter gear? Why?"

Luc waved off my concern.
"Trust me, you'll thank me later."

After devouring every last donut, we headed to a local tavern for a proper meal. Despite stuffing myself with sweets, my appetite had only grown stronger—I ended up eating enough for three men, much to my own surprise. Luc, as if he hadn’t just inhaled an entire mountain of sugar, casually polished off a large meal himself.

I realize that consuming mana for regeneration and my plant magic might be draining more energy than I realized, which probably explains this newfound hunger.

Once we had our fill, Luc handed me a list of supplies for the journey. Sleeping bags, tents, all-purpose hooded clothing, boots, water flasks, rations—the works. Thankfully, he tossed me a few silver coins to cover the costs, but hauling it all by myself? Not ideal.

Luc returned to the adventurers’ guild to secure a map and finalize travel arrangements. We were on a tight schedule—any delays could throw us off track, and the weather could worsen at any time; we needed to be quick.

After gathering the supplies, I made my way to the southern gate as instructed. The sky remained clear, showing no signs of an impending weather shift.

Then, after a long wait, a monster cart finally pulled up, with Luc at the reins.

The creature pulling the wagon was a Woolmane Sixhoof, a pair of massive wooly bulls with six muscular legs. Its thick fur rippled as it snorted, its powerful hooves digging into the dirt.

My brows furrowed as I looked from the creature to Luc. "...we riding on this thing?"

Luc smiled, patting the bull’s woolly head with his gloved hand.
"Yes. What’s wrong?"

I motioned toward another set of wagons nearby, each pulled by sleek, agile lizard-like creatures. "Wouldn’t those be a better option?"

Rolling his eyes, Luc grabbed a few of the heavier supplies and tossed them into the wagon. "Where we're headed, these bulls will handle the terrain way better than those lizards. They’re cheap, yeah, but they’re strong—and they can defend themselves if needed."

I exhaled, hauling one of the heavier suitcases into the cart. "Well, it’s still better than walking." Then a thought struck me, "What about hiring adventurers for extra protection?"

Luc scoffed, swinging himself onto the driver’s seat, "Not necessary. We won’t be running into anything dangerous. And even if we do... I’ll take care of it."

I smirked. "Right, the Merchant of Death himself. How could I forget?"

Luc side-eyed me. "One of many foolish titles. I’d prefer my cargo not be intimidated by rumors."

I rolled my eyes. "I've faced too many challenges to feel intimidated now."

As I secured the last of our supplies and climbed into the wagon, I noticed a particularly heavy bag that felt oddly squishy. It had been kept in the corner of the wagon. Suspicious, I gave it a light squeeze. “Is this bag full of sweets?”

Luc's eyes narrowed. "Hey! Don't touch that—that's my backup sweet stash in case my main sweet rations run low."

I stared at him in disbelief. " Don’t tell me this was the reason you took so long!"

"Patience is an essential factor a young mage should excel in. Waiting is the first step," Luc retorted.

I glared back at him.
"The last time we talked, you called me cargo?"

Luc let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking the reins to get the wagon moving.
"We don't have time to argue; we're already running late."

I let out a sigh, it was pointless to argue any further.

The wagon trundled forward, weaving its way through the bustling streets. The sound of hooves clattering against the worn cobblestones mixed with the distant hum of merchants hawking their goods and the chatter of passing townsfolk. Yet, despite the lively atmosphere, Luc barely paid it any attention. His focus remained fixed on the looming gate ahead.

Standing there like silent sentinels were Kaondreh and his men. The tanned, muscular warrior stood front and center, scars crisscrossing his exposed arms like battle-worn memories carved into flesh. His sharp, unwavering gaze locked onto us as the wagon approached. His men—equally weathered and vigilant—flanked him, their postures stiff and unreadable. There was no call to halt, no drawn blades—just quiet observation.

Luc exhaled slowly, barely shifting his posture. He didn’t speak or tense up; instead, he offered a small, almost amused smile—not mockery or arrogance, but something more deliberate.

Kaondreh held his ground, his expression revealing nothing. Then, without a word, he stepped aside. His men followed suit, parting just enough to allow the wagon to pass unhindered.

There was no challenge and no farewell, just a silent send-off heavy with implications. As the wagon rolled past, the air felt different—not quite hostile, not quite friendly—but charged with an unspoken understanding that would never be voiced.

Luc didn’t look back.

As we left the town, we traveled further south while the lively town faded behind us.

On the road, the other adventurer wagons sped past, their sleek lizard mounts gliding effortlessly over the road. Even the merchant caravans, pulled by sturdy, docile horses, left us in the dust.

The wolfmane bulls pulled the cart at a brisk pace.

I slumped against the edge of the wagon, watching the scenery crawl by.
"At this pace, it'll take us a whole year to get anywhere."

Luc sighed, barely sparing me a glance.
"Patience, kid. These bulls might seem slow now, but their real value will show soon enough."

I leaned forward, peering ahead.
"Where exactly are we heading, anyway?"

Luc smirked, eyes fixed on the horizon.
"The first stop, Heirya Kingdom. It should take about a week if all goes well."

I raised a brow. "The dwarven kingdom?"

"That's the one," he confirmed. "The secluded county of dwarves. It's a cold place with rugged terrain. If we maintain this pace, we should arrive there safely, provided we don't encounter any interruptions."

"Well, you are the Merchant of Death," I quipped, giving his back a light pat. "I’m sure you can resolve any interruptions."

Luc rolled his eyes. "Even I can’t fight the weather," he muttered, staring into the distance.

And sure enough, as the days passed, the road narrowed, and signs of civilization thinned. The sky turned gray, and before long, the first snowflakes began to fall.

By then, we were grateful for our winter gear. The cold-blooded lizard mounts from earlier? They would’ve frozen solid by now. The Woolmane Sixhoofs, however, trudged forward without hesitation, their thick coats protecting them from the biting wind.

We took frequent breaks, allowing the bulls to rest and graze while we gathered fresh and dried grass before the snow buried it completely. Each night, we camped beneath a dark sky, the silence of the wilderness pressing in.

Something felt off. Not a single beast had crossed our path. No distant howls. No rustling from unseen predators. Just an eerie stillness. It was almost as if those beasts were keeping their distance.

During one of our campfire nights, Luc reached into his pocket and tossed me a small pouch.

"Is this... candy?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Are you really sharing?"

Luc scoffed. "Of course not. Just open it."

I loosened the string and poured the contents into my hand.

"Seeds?" I mumbled, confused.

"A mixed variety. Good for training," he said, stirring the pot of stew over the fire.

I sighed, clenching the seeds in my palm.

Luc noticed my expression and raised an eyebrow.
"What’s with the long face? Aren't you in the mood to practice?"

I hesitated before shaking my head.
"It’s not that. It’s just… my abilities…~ All I can do is healing and plant control. How am I supposed to fight with these abilities?"

During the last battle in the woods with Miguel and Sandro, I relied on suicidal tactics and clever schemes. I don’t think I could get lucky like that again.

“Why do I have to have such useless abilities?” I muttered under my breath.

There’s no way I could achieve anything with those skills.

Luc paused for a moment before speaking. "You're seeing it the wrong way, kid. No ability is useless; it all depends on how you use it. Remember how you defeated that adventurer? The one whose head was overgrown with plants? It was your ability that ultimately led to his defeat."

I just scoffed, "That was pure desperation. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. The next time, I might not be so lucky. Healing and controlling plants… that’s support magic, at best. It’s not going to save me every time."

Luc chuckled, a dry sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He flexed his gloved fingers, gazing at them as though they were a distant thought.

"You're lucky, kid. Your hands can heal, protect, save lives. Me?” His lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “People call me the Merchant of Death—all thanks to the ability I possess. That title, that reputation… I despise it. Can’t stand it.”

Luc chuckled—a quiet, measured sound, but one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His fingers flexed instinctively, as if testing an invisible weight, before he spoke.

"But a mage doesn’t get to choose what he’s born with. It’s up to him how he uses it in the end," he continued, his tone softening slightly. "That’s how I chose to wield my magic. And you’ll have to do the same.”

I stayed silent, absorbing his words.

“Your magic isn’t a burden,” he continued, his tone softening slightly. “It’s a part of you. You just haven’t figured out how to wield it yet.”

I glanced at the seeds resting in my palm, turning them over thoughtfully, feeling the ridges beneath my fingertips. They seemed so insignificant, so small, as if mocking my doubt. How was I supposed to fight with this? With healing? With plants?

Luc stood and pulled a knife from his belt, the blade glinting under the firelight. With practiced ease, he chopped a carrot into the simmering stew, his movements precise, controlled—each cut deliberate.

“A knife,” he mused, sliding the pieces into the broth. “It can save your life—cutting, cooking, sustaining. But it can also take a life.” His gaze flicked to me, eyes unwavering. “It’s all about the person holding it. Same with your magic.”

I stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and twist, their flickering embers casting restless shadows against the night.

His words sank in—slowly, subtly—like a seed burrowing into soil, waiting for the right moment to grow.

Perhaps Luc was correct. Perhaps I just needed to learn how to use what I already possessed.

I rolled the seeds in my palm one last time before curling my fingers around them.

“Alright,” I muttered to myself, feeling the decision settle in my chest like a quiet ember. “I’ll just focus on what I can do for now.”

I returned to my tent, clutching the seeds in my palm. I poured mana into them, watching as they pulsed with faint energy.

The rest of the night passed in training inside my tent while Luc perched on a nearby tree, keeping watch.

The next morning…

I awoke to a loud snorting sound, followed by a wet, gooey sensation smearing across my face.

"What the—" I shot up, only to find myself staring into the massive woolly face of one of the Woolmane Bulls up close. Its thick tongue lolled out as it licked me again, completely unfazed by my reaction.

"Ugh, gross!" I scrambled backward, wiping my face. That’s when I noticed the mess around me.

Inside my tent, lush green plants had sprouted overnight, covering the floor and nearly reaching the ceiling. The bull had taken the liberty of munching on my unintended garden while I was asleep.

"Wait..." I looked at my hands, realizing what had happened. "Oh, right, I practiced all night!"

Although I don’t remember heading to sleep. Did I fall unconscious overusing mana?

Luc’s bag of mixed seeds was helpful, and now I was practically sitting in a miniature farm inside the tent.

Outside, the second bull snorted with anticipation, stomping its hooves as if eager for its share. If it made its way inside, the tent entrance would be torn wide open. I sighed and patted the first bull’s head before gathering the newly grown plants and dragging them outside.

"Well, at least someone appreciates my magic," I muttered as both bulls eagerly devoured the fresh greens. Judging by their enthusiasm, they’d give me a solid ten for application of magic.

As I watched them feast, I finally recognized a valuable aspect of my abilities. If I could accelerate plant growth, I could potentially use it for survival, food, medicine, and even combat, if necessary.

However, there are drawbacks. The main issue is mana consumption—growing just a handful of seeds drained me significantly. Additionally, I could only grow the plants to a limited height before they stopped responding and ceased to grow further.

At the moment, I can manage to grow plants to about my height before reaching my limit. A fully grown tree is still far beyond my capabilities.

But with practice…

I grabbed the rations and had my breakfast, which consisted of roasted meat and some bread. Training was making me hungry, and I may have overeaten a bit.

Lost in thought, I turned to see Luc already packing up the camp. He paused and cast a smirk in my direction.

"Well, look at you," he remarked, "training hard. Though I didn’t account for your practice eating into our supply rations."

I shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips. "Well, you did say to practice my magic, and a growing boy like me needs food."

As I scanned the cold, barren woods, I said, “If it weren't for this weather, I could have foraged for some berries or hunted. But I haven’t seen any wildlife at all.”

Luc let out a heavy sigh, his breath visible in the frosty air. “The wildlife has good instincts to stay out of my way, as usual. Well, I guess we'll have to restock in the Heirya Kingdom then.”

He threw a heavy camping bag into the wagon, then shot me a glance that bordered on amusement. "Don’t worry, we've got enough stew to make it there."

I nodded absentmindedly.

The eerie silence of the forest reminded me of that day—the day the red dragon, Belarus, soared through the sky. The same unnerving stillness had settled over the land then, just as it had now.

Was it just the cold, or was something else at play?

I glanced at Luc’s back and shook the troubling thought away.

After clearing our campsite, the wagon pressed onward. We passed through the woods covered in a thick layer of ice. Tall trees, laden with snow, stood like silent sentinels, while the weather turned increasingly cloudy. The only sounds were the snorting of the bulls, the clashing of their hooves on the icy road, and the creaking of the wagon.

As we journeyed further, the snowy peaks of the Heirya Kingdom came into view.

Towering mountains stretched across the horizon, their icy tips piercing the sky. The further we traveled, the stronger the chill in the air became, cutting through even our thick winter gear.

The Heirya Kingdom—the land of the dwarves.

Among the humanoid races, three species stood at the pinnacle of civilization: Humans, Elves, and Dwarves. All other races were considered lesser. Even the Heavenly Virtues—the divine vessels of the archangels—were typically chosen from one of these three races, with the sole exception of Virtue, Belarus, the half-dragon, who managed to survive for an exceptionally long time.

Now, following the death of Lux Sentinel, it was only a matter of time before another vessel would be selected to take his place.

The snowy forest began to thin, giving way to a steep, winding path as we neared the towering mountain ranges of the Heirya Kingdom. The road was slick with ice, but our Woolmane Sixhoofs barely struggled, their powerful hooves gripping the treacherous terrain with ease.

Luc patted the thick wool of one of the bulls, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
"See that? A pair of lizards wouldn’t have made it a quarter of the way up this slope."

I pulled my cloak tighter, shivering as the cold nipped at my exposed skin. The wind howled through the peaks, carrying with it a sense of desolation. No travelers. No signs of wildlife. Just the endless stretch of snow and stone.

Luc, as always, seemed completely unbothered by the biting chill, his thin black garments offering little protection. Does the cold not affect him?

I turned my gaze skyward, admiring the view, the towering mountains coming closer. Just when a movement caught my eye. A massive, hawk-like bird circled overhead, its wings cutting through the winter sky like a blade.

My pulse quickened. A hunt. Finally.

I scrambled toward the driver’s seat, tugging at Luc’s sleeve.
"Luc! Look! Fresh game—we can finally restock our supplies!"

Luc followed my gaze but didn’t share my enthusiasm.
Instead, his golden eyes narrowed.

"A Windtalon..." he murmured in a low voice. "That’s quite odd. That species rarely travels alone… and it doesn’t seem to be hunting."

Something in his tone made my stomach twist. His gaze swept across our surroundings, sharp and calculating, and his expression darkened. "Kid," he said quietly, "stay alert. I smell trouble."

The moment he said it, I heard it too—the crunch of multiple boots against the frozen ground, echoing from the trees. It wasn’t the scattered movement of passing travelers; it was organized, calculated, closing in fast.

Then, as our wagon continued forward, they emerged.

A group of adventurers, armed to the teeth, stepped onto the road, blocking our path. Their weapons gleamed under the pale winter sun, their stances rigid with intent.

I instinctively reached for my daggers.
Fifteen men—at least.
"Bandits?" I muttered.

But something was amiss. Every one of them was crippled. Some were missing limbs, some had lost an eye, and others looked sickly and pale. Each individual was missing a part of their body, and all of them were impaired in some way. They must have been seasoned adventurers for sure.

Luc let out a sharp exhale, his eyes scanning the group.
"No... just the usual ones."

Without another word, he yanked the reins, bringing the wagon to a slow, deliberate stop. Then, hopping down, he turned to me and patted the driver’s seat.
"Kid, take the reins."

I blinked in confusion.
"Huh? What? I don’t know how to drive this thing!"

My protest was cut off by a booming voice from the crowd.
"Lucian! The Merchant of Death! Show yourself!"

The cry sent a shiver down my spine, but Luc merely sighed, looking bored rather than threatened.

"It’s simple," he said, completely ignoring the armed men, "Pull the reins in the direction you want to turn. Pull both if you want to stop. Now, go ahead. I’ll catch up."

I hesitated, but before I could argue, the wagon lurched forward. I barely had time to adjust my grip before the adventurers moved to block my path. Tension spiked in my chest—were they going to attack me?

Before I could react, Luc spoke, his voice calm yet firm.
"Leave the boy alone."

A towering warrior missing an arm stepped forward, muscles bulging beneath his heavy, fur-lined armor. "Let the wagon go," the man commanded.

After a tense moment, the adventurers shifted, stepping aside just enough for the cart to pass through. I flicked the reins hesitantly, guiding the bulls forward, but I kept my eyes glued to the scene unfolding behind me.

The moment I was out of the way, the adventurers shifted formation, weapons raising in unison as they turned their full attention to Luc.

"We finally tracked you down," the leader warrior in armor said as he stepped closer.

Luc tilted his head, his expression unreadable.
"Well done," he mused. "Are you here to hire my services?"

The warrior’s grip tightened around his axe.
"Enough with the nonsense. Today is the day you die."

Luc sighed heavily, rubbing his temple as if this were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
"I’m in a good mood today," he said lazily. "Walk away, and you might actually live."

Not a single man moved. The air grew heavy—thick with killing intent.

Luc turned slightly and cast me a sidelong glance. He removed the glove from his hand. His voice remained calm as he said, "Very well then."

The cold wind picked up, howling as if sensing the storm that was about to unfold. The last thing I saw before the wagon carried me out of view was Luc, standing alone against fifteen men. His posture relaxed, as if the battle ahead were nothing more than a passing distraction.