05.2 – The Road South [2]

The second day brought a new traveler.

They encountered him on the road around midmorning — an older man in simple priest's robes, walking alone with a staff topped by a holy symbol.

He looked to be in his sixties. He is thin with the weathered face of someone who'd spent a lifetime outdoors.

"Good morning, travelers," he called out as they approached.

"Might an old priest walk with you a while? The road's more safe with company."

Otto ordered the caravan to stop, eyeing the priest with merchant's caution.

"Where are you headed, father?"

"South, like yourselves. I serve several villages in the region, traveling between them to provide services." He smiled. "My name is Clemens. I've been walking since dawn and would appreciate the company of fellow travelers."

"Can you pay?"

"I can offer prayers for your safety," Clemens said mildly.

"And I've been known to mend a wagon wheel or treat minor injuries. Will that suffice?"

Otto grunted.

"Get in the second wagon. Don't preach at my people unless they ask."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Clemens climbed aboard with a priest's practiced ease, settling among the cargo.

His eyes swept the caravan, cataloguing each person, and when his gaze reached Velmira, it paused.

Just for a moment.

But she felt the weight of it, the assessment.

He sensed something. Maybe not what she was, exactly, but that she was other.

His holy symbol wasn't just decoration it seems — it was a tool, and right now it was telling him something was off about her.

Velmira pulled her hood lower and turned away.

***

They stopped for lunch beside a stream, letting the horses drink and graze. The merchants spread out across the grass to share food and conversation.

Velmira found a spot slightly apart from the others. It is close enough to seem sociable but far enough to maintain distance.

Father Clemens sat down beside her uninvited.

"You have an unusual air about you, child," he said, unwrapping a piece of bread and cheese.

"Many travelers are unusual," Velmira replied, not looking at him.

"True. The road sees all kinds." He took a bite, chewed it.

"But there's unusual, and then there's... significant. You feel significant."

"I'm just a wanderer."

"Mm. A wanderer who doesn't eat much, who helped lift a crate three grown men struggled with, who moves through shadows like she was born to them." Clemens's tone remained mild.

"I'm not accusing you of anything. Just observing."

Velmira finally turned to face him.

"And what if I am unusual? Or significant as you say? What then?"

"Then the question isn't what you are,"

Clemens said, meeting her gaze steadily.

"It's what you choose to do. Nature and choice, they're both important, but choice matters more in the end."

"Does it? Hmmm you could say that, I guess… Like if a wolf kills a lamb, is that evil? Or just nature?"

"A wolf has no choice. It kills to survive, acting on instinct." Clemens broke off a piece of bread, offered it to her. She shook her head, and he continued.

"But you and I, we have choice. We can act against our nature, we can choose kindness over cruelty, sacrifice over selfishness. That's what separates us from beasts."

"And what if your nature makes kindness... difficult?" Velmira asked quietly.

"Then the choosing becomes more important, right? Becomes more meaningful."

He smiled.

"The struggle between nature and will, that's what makes us human."

But I'm not human, Velmira thought. Not anymore.

As if reading her mind, Clemens added:

"Or perhaps that struggle is what humanity truly is. It’s not about blood or form, but the choosing."

He stood, brushing crumbs from his robes.

"I'll pray for you, child. Not because I think you're evil, but because I sense you're carrying something heavy. And everyone deserves prayers when they're burdened."

He walked away before she could respond.

***

That evening, as the caravan made camp and dinner was prepared, Elise told stories.

She had a gift for it — the timing of a performer, and storyteller's flair. The merchants gathered around the fire to listen, even the usually taciturn guards drawn in by her voice.

"Let me tell you about the elf mage Frieren," Elise began, her eyes bright with the firelight. "And the Hero Himmel, who taught her what it means to be remembered."

The story unfolded as:

The Demon King terrorizing the land made the hero party assembling, and begun their ten-year journey across the continent. Frieren is the quiet but powerful and distant elf.

"They say Himmel fell in love with her," Elise said.

"But elves don't love like humans do. They can't. They live too long and see too much. Love would just be pain if repeated endlessly."

"Did she love him back?" someone asked.

"That's the question, isn't it? The story goes that after they defeated the Demon King, after the celebrations ended, Frieren just... left. Wandered off to continue her travels, she even barely said goodbye. Fifty years later, she came back for Himmel's funeral, and only then realized what she'd lost."

Elise's voice softened.

"She spent fifty years thinking they had all the time in the world. But he was human. He was dying from the moment they met, and she never understood that until it was too late."

Silence fell over the camp. Even the fire seemed to burn quieter.

"So now she travels with apprentices," Elise continued. "Mortal humans who will die long before she does. Some say she's punishing herself, forcing herself to feel that loss over and over. Others say she's finally learning what Himmel tried to teach her; that the time we have matters because it ends."

Otto grunted.

"Depressing story for a campfire."

"It's a true story though!," Elise countered. "Or true enough. I heard it from a merchant who met Himmel once, back in the day. He said the Hero talked about Frieren constantly. 'She's the kindest person I know,' he'd say. 'She just doesn't realize it yet.'"

Velmira stared into the fire, Elise's words echoing in her mind.

She just doesn't realize it yet.

Was that Velmira's problem too?

She was trying so hard to hold onto her humanity, to not become a monster, but maybe she was approaching it wrong. Maybe humanity wasn't something you held onto through denial and resistance.

Maybe it was something you chose, actively, in every moment, every interaction, every decision not to give in to the easier path.

Frieren had apprentices now.

Mortal humans who would die. She was choosing connection over safety, and choosing grief over numbness.

That took a kind of courage Velmira wasn't sure she possessed.

***

The third day brought them through rougher terrain, the road climbing into low hills before descending toward their destination.

Velmira walked alongside the wagons more than she rode, needing the movement to process her thoughts.

Around midday, she sensed it — that strange fluctuation in the mana flow that could only mean one thing.

Yggdrasil.

She slowed, letting the caravan pull ahead, then turned off the road toward the source. The signature was faint but distinct, like it’s calling to her.

"Taking a break?" Helmut called from his wagon.

"I'll catch up," Velmira said. "Need to investigate something."

Otto looked suspicious but waved her on.

"Don't get lost. We're not waiting if you fall behind."

"I won't."

She slipped into the tree line, following the mana signature deeper into the forest. The merchants voices faded behind her, replaced by the rustle of wind through bare branches.

The ruins appeared after perhaps a mile of walking.

It was unmistakably Yggdrasil architecture; geometric precision that nature never produced, angles that shouldn't exist in medieval construction, and materials that seemed didn't belong in this world. The stone was marked with the subtle pattern of game asset textures.

Half the structure had collapsed, but the entrance remained intact.

A dungeon, or guild probably. Mid-level, based on the design.

She'd explored dozens like it in the game.

Velmira descended the stone stairs into darkness.

Her vampiric vision pierced the gloom easily. The interior was preserved in a way natural ruins never were, there’s no water damage, no moss, and no signs of animal habitation. Magic maintained it, keeping everything exactly as it had been when the dungeon was active.

The first chamber held a single item floating in mid-air, suspended in a translucent blue field: boots. Yggdrasil equipment, low-tier movement speed buff. She recognized them from the game.

Velmira reached out, and the stasis field dissolved at her touch.

The boots fell into her hands.

Deeper in the dungeon, she found more chambers. Empty of monsters. Just silent rooms and preserved architecture.

Then she saw the scratches on the walls.

Words.

Carved with something sharp, crude but deliberate. And written in English.

Day 1: Where am I? This isn't the game.

Velmira's breath caught.

Month 3: The NPCs are real people. Real. God, what have I done?

She moved along the wall, following the timeline.

Year 1: I can't log out. I can't go home. This is real. This is my life now.

Year 3: Tried to teach the locals about Yggdrasil magic. They think I'm demon-touched. Maybe they're right.

Year 5: Still searching for others. If anyone finds this, head to Strahl. Continental Magic Association. They have records of anomalies. They might have answers. —K.M. [Stormbreaker]

Velmira traced the letters with her fingers, feeling the rough edges where someone had painstakingly carved them into stone. K.M. Stormbreaker. A player. Someone like her, transported into this world and struggling with the same questions.

Five years they'd survived. Five years of searching for answers, for others, for some way to make sense of this new existence.

Where were they now?

Dead, probably. It had been decades at minimum, possibly centuries, since these words were carved. Even a powerful player couldn't survive forever in a world that didn't understand them.

But they'd left a message. A breadcrumb trail for whoever came after.

Head to Strahl. Continental Magic Association. They have records.

Velmira sat down on the cold stone floor, surrounded by the architectural ghost of a game world and the desperate message of someone.

She wasn't alone. Had never been alone. Other players had been transported, had struggled with this same transformation, had tried to understand what happened and why.

The knowledge should have been comforting. Instead, it felt heavy. How many others had there been? How many had survived? How many had given up their humanity and become the monsters their avatars represented?

Would she find answers in Strahl?

Or just more questions, more evidence of players who'd come before and disappeared into history?

Velmira stood, taking one last look at K.M.'s message.

Then she climbed back toward daylight, carrying new knowledge and purpose.

She needed to reach the Continental Magic Association.

Not just to learn about this world's magic, but to find out what happened to other transported players.

To find out if any of them had figured out how to stay human.

***

She caught up to the caravan by evening, appearing from the forest just as they were making camp. Otto gave her a sharp look but said nothing.

Elise watched with barely concealed curiosity.

"Find what you were looking for?" the young merchant asked.

"Some of it," Velmira said. "Not all."

That night, she lay awake while the others slept, thinking about K.M.'s message.

About Frieren choosing to take apprentices despite knowing she'd outlive them.

About Father Clemens saying that struggle was what made someone human.

Maybe that was the answer. It’s not finding some way to preserve her humanity perfectly intact, but choosing to be human in every moment despite what she'd become.

Choosing connection over isolation.

Choosing empathy over efficiency.

Choosing to struggle instead of surrendering to nature.

It wouldn't be easy. It might not even be possible long-term. But it was a path forward, and right now, that was enough.

***

Waal appeared on the horizon late the next afternoon — a fortress city with high stone walls and guard towers, larger and more imposing than Herzfeld.

Smoke rose from hundreds of chimneys.

The sound of hammers on anvils rang out even at this distance.

Civilization.

Real civilization, with politics and bureaucracy and the Continental Magic Association.

The caravan approached the southern gate, joining a short line of merchants and travelers waiting for entry. Guards checked the wagons, asked questions and collected tolls.

When Velmira's turn came, the guard captain looked her over with professional assessment.

"Papers?" he asked.

"I don't have any. I'm newly arrived from... distant lands."

"Everyone's from distant lands these days." He sighed.

"Purpose in Waal?"

"I'm seeking information from the Continental Magic Association branch. I'm a mage."

That got his attention. He looked her over more carefully, noting the lack of staff or grimoire.

"Independent mage? Not Association-affiliated?"

"Correct."

"Can you pay the entry toll? Three copper."

Velmira produced a silver coin, Yggdrasil currency. The guard examined it, bit it, then nodded.

"Foreign mint, but good silver. Keep the change for my trouble, and welcome to Waal."

He waved her through.

"Continental Magic Association branch is on Scholar's Street, near the town square. Huge blue banner, you can't miss it."

The city swallowed her.

Streets packed with people, market stalls selling everything from bread to weapons, buildings two and three stories tall pressed together.

The noise was overwhelming after days of open road: conversations, arguments, laughter, and the creak of wagon wheels, animals and children.

Life. Messy, chaotic, human life.

Velmira pulled her hood up and navigated toward the town square.

The Continental Magic Association branch wasn't hard to find, a solid stone building with a blue banner bearing the organization's symbol. Mages in robes entering and exiting with the purposeful stride of people on official business.

She stood across the street, watching.

All of them carried staffs or grimoires. Every single one. It wasn't optional here, it was required.

"Planning to apply?"

Velmira turned sharply.

A young man stood beside her, perhaps early twenties, with messy brown hair and wire-frame glasses that looked slightly out of place in a medieval setting. He wore apprentice mage robes — indicating lower-rank Association membership — and carried a stack of books that seemed precarious at best.

His expression was curious, friendly, showing none of the fear or suspicion she'd grown used to.

"I'm considering it," Velmira said carefully.

"First time in Waal?" He shifted his books to one arm, extending the other hand.

"I'm Aldric. Third-class mage, research specialist. Well, officially I'm third-class. Practically, I spend all my time in the library and couldn't cast a combat spell to save my life."

She took his hand briefly. His skin was warm.

"Velmira."

"Velmira." He tried the name out, smiling. "That's unusual. Eastern?"

"Something like that."

"Well, Velmira, if you're thinking about joining the Association, I should warn you, the bureaucracy is absolutely nightmarish. Forms for everything, tests, evaluations, politics."

He adjusted his glasses.

"But if you're interested in magical research, access to their library makes it worth it. I practically live there."

"You mentioned research. What kind of research?"

"Ancient ruins mostly. Pre-Demon King artifacts, old magical theories, and lost spells." His eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "There's so much knowledge that's been forgotten or buried. I want to find it, catalogue it, and understand it before it's lost forever."

Ancient ruins. Lost knowledge. This couldn't be coincidence.

"That sounds fascinating," Velmira said honestly.

"It is! Well, most people think it's boring, but—" He caught himself, laughing. "Sorry, I get carried away. Academia's lonely when no one shares your interests."

He glanced at the Association building, then back to her.

"Are you hungry? There's a good tavern near here. Buy me dinner, and I'll tell you everything you need to know about how the Continental Magic Association actually works."

Velmira hesitated. Every instinct told her to be cautious. Getting close to people led to questions, suspicion, and eventually got her exiled.

She should politely decline, find her own way and maintain her isolation.

But maybe this time could be different.

Maybe she could be honest, or at least more honest than she'd been in Herzfeld.

Maybe this time wouldn't end in exile.

"All right," Velmira said. "Lead the way."

Aldric's face brightened.

"Excellent! You won't regret this. Well, you might regret the food, tavern cooking is hit or miss, but the information will be solid."

He started walking, still carrying his precarious stack of books, talking enthusiastically about the Association's organizational structure.

Velmira followed, pulling her hood back slightly to see better in the evening light.

For the first time since arriving in this world, she felt something like hope.

Maybe she could find answers here.

Maybe even find others like her, or at least learn what happened to them.

Maybe, just maybe, she could figure out how to be both monster and guardian. Vampire and person. Immortal and human.

The sun was setting over Waal, painting the stone buildings gold and amber. Aldric was still talking, gesturing animatedly with his free hand, completely unafraid of her.

Velmira smiled, and followed him into the warm light of the tavern.

End of Chapter 5