Forbidden Region

by Michael Sisa

  “I’m simply making a detour,” corrected Lark.

  “Can you at least tell us where you’re going?” said Chryselle.

  Lark fell silent. He planned on going straight to the Forbidden Region after this. But if he told them the truth, they might try to stop him from going to such a dangerous place. Or worse, they might insist on coming with him.

  Lark had heard from Lady Ropianna how dangerous the Forbidden Region was. If a Scylla was really guarding the treasure room where the Sword of Morpheus was being kept, it’d be impossible for the current Lark to protect everyone. Just surviving an encounter would be hard enough.

  The best course of action was to go there alone.

  “I can’t tell you the specifics and I can’t tell you the destination, sorry.”

  Chryselle bit her lip. “I see.”

  Seeing her crestfallen face, Lark smiled softly. He placed a hand on her head and gently ruffled her hair.

  Chryselle’s eyes slowly widened and she froze. She hadn’t expected Lark to do that. Especially in front of other people.

  “It’s fine,” said Lark. “I’ll be sure to come back straight after.”

  Lark looked up. There were still several hours before dusk, but the air was already freezing cold. Very soon, winter would arrive.

  VOLUME 6: CHAPTER 3

  After parting with his disciples, Lark immediately went to the breeder and bought the fastest and strongest horse available. Although it cost him a hefty sum of money, investing in a good mount was a must for this expedition.

  He also bought a woolen coat, several days’ worth of rations, and a large water flask.

  “Four gold, five silvers,” said the merchant in front of him.

  Lark handed the merchant the exact amount, strapped the items on the horse, and looked in the direction of the nearby tailoring shop. He was sure that several people had been following him for quite some time now.

  “Ah, since you’ve bought a lot, take this. It’s free.”

  The merchant tossed a plaid scarf to him.

  Lark stared at the scarf then at the smiling merchant.

  “Winter gets harsher each year,” said the merchant. “You’re going on a long journey, right, young man? You’ll need more than a coat to survive the freezing snow in the coming months.”

  Lark wrapped the scarf around his neck and lightly bowed his head. “Thank you.”

  After buying all the things he needed for his journey, Lark immediately moved out of the capital and headed southwest, toward the Forbidden Region.

  Lark frowned. Several people continued following him from a safe distance. Lark clicked his tongue. He did not like being followed and monitored by unknown individuals.

  Lark reined in his horse and dismounted. He amplified the strength of his body using mana and increased his speed using wind magic, before shooting in the direction of his pursuers.

  The three men, clad in cloaks, following Lark, were surprised to see a figure shooting toward them at a frightening speed.

  “What is that?”

  The figure blurred and vanished entirely. A split second after, the heads of their horses flew and rolled on the ground. Blood spurted out incessantly, splattering the pursuers and the ground.

  “Who sent you? Why are you following me?” A cold voice was heard.

  Although they couldn’t see the owner of the voice, they realized to whom it belonged. The three looked at their headless mounts. They realized that had Lark willed it, he could have killed all three of them on the spot.

  “W-Wait!” shouted one of them. “Master didn’t tell us it’ll be like this! H-He simply told us to follow you and report our findings!”

  Based on what he’d seen so far, they definitely weren’t assassins. The assassins from Black Midas could parry Lark’s attacks, and the leaders of that criminal syndicate were even more proficient with the sword than Lark. But these three couldn’t even react to his movements.

  Right now, they were frozen, as though they feared they would be beheaded if they made the slightest movement.

  Like a mirage, Lark’s figure slowly appeared in front of everyone.

  “Master?” said Lark.

  The three looked at each other. The one who first spoke pulled down his hood, and the rest followed suit. Surprisingly, all of them were young, probably around the same age as Lark. The oldest was probably the same age as Anandra.

  The oldest of the three swallowed the lump in his throat. Fear was evident in his eyes. “M-Master Nickolai.”

  An unexpected name came up. Lark silently urged him to continue.

  “W-We’re all disciples of the Thunder Lord . T-The master asked us to monitor your movements in the capital,” said the disciple.

  “Monitor my movements,” repeated Lark. His cold voice sent shivers down the three disciples’ spines.

  When their master, Nickolai, told them to monitor someone, they expected it to be an easy task. After all, the three of them were capable of spells until the fourth-tier. An ordinary soldier wasn’t their match. But after seeing the inhuman strength displayed by Lark, the way he unhesitatingly beheaded all of their mounts, the three disciples all lost the will to fight.

  They realized that the man they were tasked to monitor was at least on the same level as a high-ranking knight. They even surmised that he was probably as strong as the captain of the royal knights.

  This was someone capable of killing them before they could even cast their spells.

  “Yes, we’re merely tasked to monitor your movements!” said another disciple.

  It seemed true, as Lark didn’t feel they had any intent to kill. Still, he did not like being followed.

  “Why?” said Lark.

  A single word.

  But for some strange reason, the three felt that the fate of their master rested on their answer to this question. They fell silent for a moment.

  The oldest disciple choked his words out, “T-The treasure in the Forbidden Region! The master has been gathering all of his seventeen disciples and several mercenaries for an expedition to the City of Bones!”

  Lark furrowed his brows upon hearing this.

  Seeing Lark’s displeased expression, the oldest disciple hurriedly added, “T-The master is afraid that you’ll steal the treasure stored in the labyrinth! That’s why he asked us to monitor your movements!”

  “Steal the treasure? I won’t,” said Lark.

  This was true, since the Sword of Morpheus was his to begin with. He would simply be taking what was rightfully his. Hopefully, the information passed on by the captain of the royal guards before he lost consciousness was true, that the sword could really be found in that labyrinth.

  “R-Really?” said the youngest-looking disciple.

  “I’m not so shameful as to steal another person’s treasure,” said Lark. He sounded resolute and convincing.

  “But the direction you’re going… it’s the opposite direction to the Endless Forest. It’s the same direction as the Forbidden Region.”

  “That’s none of your concern. Wherever I’m headed is none of your business,” said Lark. He stared at them for a moment, then sighed. “The three of you are still young, and seeing that you have no harmful intentions, I’ll let this one slide.”

  The three of you are still young . That sounded peculiar, coming from someone their age.

  Lark sheathed his sword. The disciples sighed in relief upon seeing this.

  “Tell your master this—I dislike being followed. I won’t be as merciful next time.”

  Lark started walking toward his mount, then stopped. He turned around and looked at the disciples. “The three of you seem to have some talent in magic.”

  The amount of mana in their bodies and its flow was a dead giveaway. Although Lark wasn’t a hundred percent certain, these three probably had at least half the talent of Chryselle.

  It felt like a waste to see someone so young die due to the greed and arrogance of their master. A Scylla wasn’t
something they could hope to survive even if they trained for another decade.

  “Some advice,” said Lark. “Don’t participate in this expedition. You heard what happened to the royal knights, didn’t you?”

  The three looked at each other. They were also afraid of going to the Forbidden Region. But since the master clearly told them that he would disown anyone who refused to come with him, they had no choice but to join. Furthermore, the rest of the disciples were eager to join the master. They were all looking forward to seeing the legendary sword in the flesh.

  “B-But if we don’t join the expedition...” The youngest-looking disciple gazed on the ground. “Master Nickolai will get rid of us. He’s done it before. I’m sure the three of us won’t be an exception.”

  “Then leave,” said Lark. “It’s that simple, isn’t it? It’s called a Forbidden Region for a reason. Don’t throw your lives away over something as petty as legendary treasure.”

  He’d said his piece. What they chose to do next was up to them. Whether they’d choose to throw their lives away for their master or choose to wander around the kingdom as fourth-tier mages without affiliations.

  Without uttering another word, Lark went to where his mount was located. He looked up.

  “Winter came earlier than expected, huh?”

  Snow had started falling. Fortunately, he’d already bought a thick woolen cloak and the merchant had given him this nice-looking scarf—free.

  Lark thought of Blackstone Town for a moment.

  It should be different than last year, when people were dying from hunger and the cold. This time, they had more than enough food stored in the granaries to last them the winter, even a year. They’d also built several houses in the Eastern District.

  Lark smiled. He felt at ease leaving the town in his people’s hands.

  He mounted his horse, slapped the reins and went toward the Forbidden Region.

  ***

  The three disciples tasked to monitor Lark went back to the capital. Immediately, they headed to the residence of their master in the Inner District.

  “You lost track of him?” Nickolai asked incredulously. He gripped the parchment he was holding in his hand, crumpling it in an instant.

  “O-Our horses were killed and we didn’t have any other means to chas—”

  “Then use your magic, goddamnit!” snarled Nickolai. “The three of you are among my five strongest disciples! That’s why I specifically tasked the three of you to monitor that stupid Marcus brat! You mastered the thunderclap spell a long time ago, didn’t you?”

  Thunderclap was a spell that enabled the caster to move at a frighteningly fast speed for a short period of time. It was true that had they used it, they could have chased after Lark for some time until they ran out of mana.

  But the warning of Lark echoed in their minds. After seeing him beheading their horses without hesitation, they had all lost the will to fight. That was a monster in human flesh. It would be like facing their master.

  “These useless disciples!” Nickolai slammed the crumpled parchment down on the table.

  “But, Master! He told us that he doesn’t have any intention of stealing the treasure in the Forbidden Region!”

  “And you believed him?” sneered Nickolai. “As I thought. That old hag should have kept her mouth shut. Spouting nonsense here and there! There was no need to tell that Marcus brat about the legendary sword, right?”

  The disciples listened silently as Nickolai started cursing Lark and Lady Ropianna. They all knew of their master’s temper. The Thunder Lord was known as one of the strongest magicians in this kingdom, and he was also among the most ruthless.

  He couldn’t show his hostility openly before, since His Majesty and General Carlos was there with them in Fork Meadow. Furthermore, he was not in an amicable relationship with Elias ‘Farsight.’ The archer held no interest in power struggles and politics. He was only interested in archery and magic. A stark contrast to the Thunder Lord. Naturally, their views often clashed and they viewed each other in bad light.

  Nickolai gritted his teeth.

  He was sure of what he saw that night. The moment Lady Ropianna mentioned the Sword of Morpheus, the Marcus brat’s eyes glimmered with greed. He wanted that treasure for himself, Nickolai was sure of it.

  “Stealing what’s supposed to be mine,” Nickolai clicked his tongue, “I won’t allow it.”

  Nickolai said to his strongest disciple, “Videl, the mercenaries?”

  Videl bowed his head respectfully. “We’ve managed to recruit over a hundred mercenaries from the guild, Master. They’re all willing to join our expedition in the Forbidden Region as long as we pay the asked price.”

  “Good,” said Nickolai.

  Finally, some good news.

  “Those ruffians will be our meat shield. We’ll recruit more mercenaries once we’ve arrived at Boris County. I’m sure everyone will jump at the offer once they hear the name of the Thunder Lord.”

  VOLUME 6: CHAPTER 4

  For several weeks, Lark relentlessly made his way toward the Forbidden Region. The snow had grown thick by then. Everything was blanketed white.

  He occasionally passed by a small town or a village. Unfortunately, unlike Golden Wheat City, it seemed that this region had been hit by the black famine this year and hadn’t recovered. All of the villages he passed through along the way were in a terrible state. Some of the shacks had collapsed due to the piled-up snow, and he saw several dead bodies outside half-buried in snow. Looking closely, the dead bodies were emaciated, as though they hadn’t eaten anything for days.

  Lark looked up. The sky kept howling as fierce wind and snow blew. It seemed that the blizzard wouldn’t stop any time soon.

  “Looks like I need to stay in an inn tonight,” he mumbled.

  He entered the nearest village and went toward a nearby cabin, which he presumed to be an inn based on the snow-covered sign dangling from its eaves. There was even a small shed next to it for his mount.

  Lark knocked on the door several times. When he heard no response, he knocked again and said in a loud voice, “Hello? Is the inn open? Can I stay here for the night?”

  “Is no one home?” he asked himself.

  Lark looked to his rear. He noticed a group approaching him. Judging by the way they glared at him, and the threatening way they held their farming tools, it was easy to see what they were aiming for.

  The moment they’d surrounded Lark, one of them shouted, “G-Give us all of your belongings and we’ll spare your life!”

  There was a hint of fear within the man’s words. Now that Lark had taken a careful look, all of the men surrounding him were skin and bone. They held the same appearance as the other villagers Lark encountered on his way here. They wore thin, tattered tunics, with only straw hats protecting their heads against the freezing snow. No wonder they were all trembling as they held their sickles, shovels, and rakes.

  When Lark didn’t reply to their previous demand, the same villager repeated, “G-Give us all of your belongings! Leave everything behind and we’ll spare your life!”

  The emaciated man’s voice was close to crying. He sounded so desperate. The fear within his eyes was clearly evident. They definitely weren’t bandits. They had probably never killed a single person before in their lives.

  “And if I don’t?” Lark finally spoke.

  The villagers saw the sword dangling on his waist, half-concealed by his woolen coat.

  “T-That’s… W-We’ll kill you!” one of the villagers choked the words out.

  Lark could see why these people were doing this. It had been a few weeks since winter started and judging by the state of the crops he’d passed by along the way, this village was among those hit terribly by the previous black famine.

  The villagers must have been dying from hunger and the cold since winter arrived.

  For a moment, Lark was reminded of Blackstone Town. His territory was in such a terrible state just a year ago. Peopl
e were dying on the streets from the cold, after their shacks collapsed from the piled-up snow. Some people even started digging up the roots of trees and eating them just to survive.

  He looked at the villagers currently surrounding him from all sides. They too were scrambling for survival.

  After seeing Lark’s sword and his expensive-looking mount, these men must have realized that they had targeted the wrong person. It was easy to see the fear in their eyes that they would lose their lives tonight. They must have thought that he was a knight serving under a noble house.

  “Kill me, huh?” mumbled Lark.

  One of the villagers took a step back upon hearing this. The rest, on the other hand, flinched and tightened their grips on their weapons.

  Lark fell silent for a moment, his face half-shrouded by his hood.

  Eventually, he spoke. “I can give you my food, but I’m afraid you’ll have to kill me if you wish to steal my other valuables,” said Lark.

  Boris County was only a day or two from here. He could definitely survive without eating during that time. These villagers, on the other hand, would probably die soon if they weren’t able to procure any food.

  Lark was sure that there were children inside those dilapidated shacks, waiting for them to return.

  “J-Just the food is fine!” said one of the villagers. “W-We’ll let you keep your sword, your mount, and your other valuables with you!”

  It was good that they weren’t too greedy.

  Lark unstrapped a large leather bag from his horse and tossed it toward the man who appeared to be the leader of the group.

  “That’s all the food I have,” said Lark. “Take it.”

  The leader of the group immediately dropped his weapon and grabbed the leather bag, as though afraid that Lark would suddenly change his mind. Upon opening, a shout of glee unconsciously escaped his mouth. His eyes were wide as he stared at the meat jerkies and loaves of bread inside.

  Although it wouldn’t be enough to feed the entire village, at the very least, they would be able to feed the starving children. The same thoughts ran through everyone’s mind as they gawked at the leather bag filled with food, as though it was some sort of treasure.