Creek Vilge.

  ‘That’s the entrance,’ Simon was a bit far, but he could see that there were some guards at the entrance of the vilge, four of them to be exact. ‘They are on alert?’ he could read their anxiousness even from a distance.

  He immediately steered off-road and moved closer to investigate.

  Unlike the Fisherman Vilge, which he visited from time to time, he knew that the guards of the Creek Vilge would ask about his identity, but he didn’t have any papers or proof to show. ‘That’s why I’m traveling in the first pce,’ he muttered.

  Getting into the right distance, he stopped. ‘No way I’m going past that!’ Then he looked at the height of the wall.

  He circled around the walls and found a suitable spot to jump into.

  “Tap!”

  Simon nded on light feet atop one of the roofs of the vilge houses.

  He scanned around with the advantage of standing on a higher level. There were new houses and buildings, but the adventurer’s guild was still there; it was his anchor in remembering the vilge.

  ‘That’s the path to the docks, but-’

  The vilge was not that busy, so he could be quickly spotted if he walked on the main path.

  ‘No watch towers,’ he noted, so he was sure that no one would spot him travelling via roofs.

  ‘East Mouth Vilge’—he remembered that name. The ride on a ship from there would take him straight to where he needed to go. Fastest route, if nothing had changed.

  This was his first choice for going further, the same way he and the old man went. The st choice was simply walking into the Umbra Forest up north.

  He also had the idea to use the small boat to ride all the way to the southeast side of the eastern continent, but that was probably the worst idea he ever thought of; the current would break the small boat in half.

  He arrived on the small dock only to find it strangely silent.

  A man was sleeping in a rocking chair. Simon was sure that the man was a sailor at the dock; he could easily distinguish one with rough hands and sun-tanned skin. And the fact that he could sleep on a rocking chair while the sun was up high.

  Simon approached him to ask about the fare, even though he didn’t have any money on him right now. A light tap on the man’s shoulder woke him up.

  “Fare? Two slivers, kill a thief or four goblins, how old are you, kid?” the sailor asked, scanning him from head to toe.

  He understood why the Sailor was asking; he was a kid trying his luck on the ragged pnk in the port of the Creek Vilge.

  “Just... 14,” Simon answered truthfully. He had an idea of how to earn some money; he could go to the Adventurer route.

  “You are too young to be an adventurer... and clearly can’t see. Go back where you came from,” another sailor said, walking near them, attracted by the arrival of a stranger.

  Then Simon recalled the age requirement to become an adventurer—he still had a few years to wait. ‘Never had trouble with money,’ since it was the old man who took care of it.

  “How about trading salts?” Simon suggested, he dropped his bag and took out a jar. He opened it, releasing a rich aroma.

  “Hmm... Pink Salt... hey guys!” The nosy sailor’s call attracted people around them. Pink salt had a unique fvor, and Simon was carrying around five kilos of it. Connoisseurs and famous chefs liked it.

  “Three silvers,” a merchant who was attracted by the call offered. “Three silvers for three cups.” The merchant finished his sentence.

  “Seven silver for all of that,” the nosy sailor countered. It seemed they were haggling over the price of the salt.

  “Are we sure it’s really pink salt?” The sailor on the rocking chair questioned.

  Simon could tell they were trying to reduce the price of his salt, although he had no idea of its value. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel their bad intentions. He started packing up the salt.

  “Hey! Where do you think you're going, boy?” the nosy sailor said this with authority, making it sound deeper to intimidate the boy.

  Of course, it didn’t affect Simon. The boy didn’t want any disputes, so he grabbed his sword without drawing it out. Though his eyes were closed, he exuded a bloodlust beyond his age. “I’m not going to say it again... I’m gone,” Simon threatened.

  The merchant instantly ran away, bloodlust radiating from Simon and directed at the nosy Sailor who tried to stop him. The Sailor shook in his boots, and the others watching stood frozen in fear.

  ‘That’s too much, maybe.’ Simon was satisfied and removed his hands from his sword. He began walking away.

  Simon passed by an adventurer who was also attracted by the Sailor’s call.

  “Sorry, kid, the Creek Vilge is usually a cheerful one, but a monster began living upstream, and now they can’t even fish or travel,” the adventurer said, handing Simon two silvers. “And we can’t find it, it’s so good at camoufging.”

  “No need,” the boy said.

  As the tension faded, Simon’s steps carried him back to the top of the roof. Over the vilge’s wooden walls, and back to its outskirts. He walked away from the vilge. When he was far enough, he headed east, crossing the main path and to the forest.

  His mind lingered; the feeling of familiarity and nostalgia overwhelmed him as he began to make pns. ‘I’m going off-road again.’

  Heading north along the east side of the Bck River would only take a day or two if he rode the ship, but now it will be longer since he has to go on foot.

  ‘I want to ride a trip like st time. Fishing and barbecue party on board!’ That trip held good memories, and it was sad he might never make it again.

  Further north, at the end of the Bck River, was the Umbra Forest; going around the forest would be quite a journey. But that was nothing new. ‘No rush,’ he had plenty of time.

  The long trek would be dangerous, but encounters with thieves, monsters, and harsh conditions were the norm during his travels with the old man; it was a part of their everyday life.

  ‘We've traveled around here before,’ the boy had a map of the area in his mind. He just had to follow the bank eastward, and he would arrive in the Umbra Forest.

  His eyes y far forward, staring at nothing as he walked.

  ‘Sniff,’ but he steered following his nose. ‘Monster,’ he remembered what the adventurer told him. Sensing the distance of the monster, Simon removed his bag, pced it in a good spot, and grabbed the old man’s sword. He jumped on one of the tree branches and began tree hopping.

  ‘There it is!’ he found the monster snacking on some fish.

  It looked like a lizard, and its skin was blended with the mud. Its tongue slithered as magic was generated, a twirl of wind created a vacuum that led directly into its maw.

  ‘Getting killed while eating… sad,’ he thought, but jumped in for the kill.