“Boss.”

  Loyal, the broad-shouldered man with black hair walked up beside Danz. The various knives and skinning blades hanging from his belt clicked together rhythmically with each heavy footfall. His eyes were a clouded mixture of deep sorrow and lingering worry as he watched his leader.

  The fire in the forest had gradually died down. What had once been roaring flames was now reduced to smoldering embers and scattered patches of dull orange glow. The air was thick with the smell of scorched wood and burned leaves, mixed with dust and lingering smoke that drifted between the blackened trunks. Ash floated now and then, settling on armor, hair, and skin like gray snow.

  As a Foundation-stage Warrior of the Violence Path, Danz had some control over flame. He had already forced the worst of the blaze to subside.

  With his remaining men beating out the stray sparks with wet sacks, some stomped out smaller fires, dragged burning branches aside, and smothered them with dirt; the task of containing the flame had not been overly difficult.

  Loyal glanced at the place where the fire burned lowest, where the ground was still glowing faintly red. He shook his head.

  “At least, Boss. There is a small mercy to be found like this. She kept her wits about her until the very end.”

  As Loyal spoke, he pulled a flask from his belt. He uncorked it and poured the liquid onto the embers, onto what had once been her body. The liquid hissed on contact, steam rising in a thin white plume before vanishing into the smoky air.

  "Far better this, than to lose all reason through a failed ritual."

  “Losing control,” Danz murmured. “A curse, indeed.”

  He said to himself. “The ritual gives us a chance to reach a higher level, to stabilize our power and ensure success, and yet,” he gripped his fist tightly, “with a single misstep, our chance of success plummeted.”

  The Advancement Ritual offered an opportunity for a Stagefarer to reach a higher Stage, ensuring complete success. However, it was also a double-edged sword.

  If even a single condition of the ritual went unfulfilled, the probability of success plummeted.

  Without completing the arduous steps required by the ritual, the result was a devastating setback. In the worst cases, the Stagefarer would lose control entirely.

  “But, it was still the safest way to advance safely, besides being a Bless.”

  “...” Danz nodded his head.

  With Cinder missing a hollow part of her, she could still be saved if they were quick enough.

  But, with her enabling the ritual and failing the final stage of her ritual against the monster, it was not a good idea to save her any longer.

  Because the last thing they wanted was for her to become a monster, to hunt her old comrade…

  Loyal made a wry, knowing smile.

  “In that regard, Miss Cinder is indeed luckier than most. She has survived long enough to remain as herself.”

  To be killed as a human.

  Danz closed his eyes briefly. Heat radiated from him in an oppressive wave, enough to make the air around his body shimmer and warp.

  “…”

  They stood there in silence.

  The fire continued to die down, embers fading to black. The last remains of the woman who had once fought beside them were slowly consumed by ash and heat, leaving nothing behind but scorched bones and ashes.

  “…”

  Before long, Danz opened his eyes. One of them was ruined by the old scar. The other flared red. He lifted his hand and made a small, dismissive motion through the air.

  Instantly, from what remained of Cinder’s bones, a substance began to seep out. A kind of liquid, crimson in color.

  it lifted against gravity as if drawn by an invisible thread. It twisted, spiraled upward, coiling through the air before gathering above Danz’s palm.

  “Condensed essence,” Loyal muttered, watching the liquid with unreadable eyes.

  Danz uncorked his flask. The crimson liquid immediately flowed inside, slipping through the narrow mouth. When the last trace vanished, he sealed the lid and tossed the flask toward Loyal.

  “B… boss?!”

  Loyal’s eyes widened as he fumbled to catch it, nearly dropping the flask in his surprise. In his defense, he had not expected it!

  Danz waved his hand in dismissal.

  “I don’t need it.”

  What could essence condensed by an Apprentice-stage Stagefarer do for him, a Foundation Stage Warrior? At best, it would slightly increase the volume of his already-condensed essence by an imperceptible amount.

  “…”

  Loyal stared down at the flask. His eyes were wide, confusion warring with a glimmer of unmistakable greed.

  Danz frowned and looked at him with suspicious eyes.

  “You, have you ever bothered to study the guide Davis wrote? Do you even understand what this is?”

  Loyal immediately panicked, sweat profusely beading on his brow. He looked around wildly, not daring to meet Danz’s scarred eye.

  “Uh, eh, Boss! This is, condensed essence! What it does is, is…”

  Danz clenched his fist. The heat in the air spiked.

  In an instant, Loyal snapped upright and blurted out, shouting at the top of his lungs!

  “It’s to, to enhance ourselves! Fiu, fiu!” He punched the air twice. “Like this, we shall become stronger!”

  “…”

  Danz pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating whether to punch this imbecile or not.

  ‘WAIT, BOSS, LET A MAN COLLECT HIS THOUGHTS!”

  *Sigh.* Danz rolled his eyes and let out a tired sigh. This was not the right place for a lecture, but if he didn’t engrave it into this clod-brained skull now, it would never stick.

  With a resigned breath, he explained.

  “You must condense your essence to advance to the next stage.”

  “Ah! I remember that part!” Loyal’s eyes lit up immediately.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Miss Cinder walks the Warrior Path of the Violence Faction, so her condensed essence is the same as mine,” he looked down at the flask, as if just remembering the most crucial part. “So I can actually consume this to condense my essence faster!”

  To advance, one must finish condensing one's essence.

  As Cinder walked the Warrior Path of the Violence Faction, her condensed essence was of a crimson liquid colour, reflecting her Faction.

  And Loyal, as someone who also walked the Warrior Path, could use it. To consume it would condense his essence faster, allowing him to ascend more quickly.

  “...”

  Danz loosened his clenched hand.

  To strengthen his group, he had to do what was necessary. Give it to Loyal, the third—no, now the second strongest in their Tear Drop group.

  ‘My apologies, matey.’

  ‘Bossa, you jest! Do you know how hard it is to condense that?!’

  Gazing at Cinder’s charred remains, Danz could almost imagine what she would have said, her crooked grin if she were still alive.

  “...”

  Loyal suddenly bowed. The daggers at his hips clicked together with the motion.

  “Boss, my sincerest thanks!”

  Danz’s eyes drooped low with weariness as he waved a dismissive hand.

  “Just ensure you purify it before consuming. And…” Danz hesitated, glancing at Cinder’s bones, then at his men, who were scanning their surroundings for any lingering danger. Before looking back at Loyal. “Achieve success, should you plan on advancing.”

  “Yes, Boss!”

  Loyal straightened, clutching the flask tightly. He turned toward the charred remains that had once been Cinder.

  “Miss Cinder, you have aided me so many times, and even now...” A single tear traced a path down his grimy cheek. “I shall never forget this.”

  *Sniff.* He sniffed loudly and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

  Danz shook his head.

  ‘How can you walk the Warrior Path, if you are such a crybaby?’

  A complicated knot of anger and guilt tightened in his chest. Anger at himself, for failing to protect his own people.

  “We shall inter her somewhere quiet, so her soul may find rest.”

  “Boss, you mean the churchyard?” Loyal asked, sniffing as he wiped his face.

  Danz nodded.

  The tomb behind the church.

  Normally, only the village head and other important figures could be laid to rest there.

  Danz usually cremated the dead and returned their ashes to their families. It was safer that way. Village folklore warned of the dead waking up, and the church, being a sacred ground, was the one place where such things hardly happened.

  Loyal frowned.

  “Will that old muckworm accept it?”

  “Nothing is impossible with coin.”

  “That’s true.” Loyal snickered, rubbing his nose.

  “Hark! Bring her to the church!” Loyal shouted, and immediately the scrawnier men rushed over, carrying a hastily assembled wooden coffin.

  “Without a corpse, the Deaf can’t do anything to us,” Loyal smiled lightly, pulling up his shirt and joining in the task.

  Danz frowned slightly, but said nothing about it.

  He turned his back, his boots sinking heavily into the earth with each step. The scorched soil crunched beneath him, brittle from heat and soaked with soot and ash.

  Danz stopped in front of the blackened corpse of the monster. Most of its limbs had now been severed by his men, methodically dismantled to ensure it would never rise again. Blackened flesh steamed faintly in the cooling air, and the smell of burned meat clung stubbornly to the clearing.

  He furrowed his brow, remembering something unpleasant during the fight.

  “Cinder lost to this weakling? This doesn’t make any sense,” he murmured, kicking a loose chunk of blackened bone. “It could barely scratch my skin.”

  “...”

  The men around him heard every word.

  Calling it a murmur, but Danz’s voice was quite loud; it carried far.

  Yet, they said nothing and continued their grim work: hacking, dragging, stuffing charred remains into thick leather sacks. It wasn’t their place to understand their boss’s thoughts.

  If his guess was right, then this should be…

  “A Stagefarer who lost control.”

  Someone who had turned completely into a Curse.

  That was the only explanation he had.

  The question was, what happened to it before? Why did he suddenly turn?

  Danz lifted his foot and kicked the monster’s head lightly.

  “B–Boss!”

  The kick sent the head flying. It smashed into a nearby tree with a hollow sound and embedded itself deep into the trunk, bark splintering outward in a spiderweb of cracks.

  The men dismantling the corpse jolted in alarm. Several of them shot Danz infuriated looks before scrambling toward the tree. Two of them strained to pull the head free.

  “…”

  Danz stepped closer and looked down at the head.

  The face was grotesque. It was an animal face. Its snout-like nose was surrounded by fleshy, leaf-shaped structures—called noseleaves—still half-melted from the fire. Two large, sharp-edged ears jutted from the sides of its skull. The skin was folded, charred and darkened from being scorched to death.

  Its eyes were small, the eyeballs protruding unnaturally from the sockets. The pupils, still intact, stared fixedly at Danz with an irritated violet color.

  “Tch.”

  A ball of flame flickered into existence behind him.

  Yet, remembering that his men were still doing their job, he stopped materializing it.

  The monster’s mouth was wide and torn, stretched far. Scratches lined the edges, and jagged fangs protruded unevenly.

  Looking at this thing, it reminded him of some creature he had encountered long ago…

  “Bat?”

  A cold sensation crawled down his spine. Sweat broke out across his back despite the heat, soaking into his shirt.

  ‘Is this the Sweet Blood Order?’

  Had they attacked so openly? Was this a warning?

  Danz turned toward one of the younger men who had just managed to pry the head free from the tree.

  “Where’s Davis?”

  The man flinched slightly at being addressed.

  “Boss, Mister Davis disappeared somewhere into the inner village this noon. I heard,” he reported, stroking his cheek, “he went to meet someone, a young master, I think.”

  “Hm.”

  “Should we inform him?” the man asked, wiping sweat from his forehead and resting a hand on his hip.

  Danz nodded.

  “He needs to be informed about Cinder’s death,” He thought for a moment. “And we need him to inform Madam.”

  Davis. The only Apprentice Stagefarer walking the Deceiver path.

  The young man tilted his head, frowning.

  “Didn’t we try that for eight years already? Does Boss want him to try again?”

  “…”

  Danz was silent for a moment.

  “Only he has a chance to bypass the estate defenses.”

  They had failed so many times before. Davis might look shrewd and sly on the outside, but that skinny guy was just a coward. He did not dare to approach further if it was slightly dangerous for him.

  Madam, The Baroness, they had not seen her for eight years, only dealing with the headmaid.

  “Then should we ask him to retrieve all the coins we paid when he was discovered?”

  “...” Danz’s gaze shifted to the skinny young man, dressed in a ridiculous, colorful, dirt-stained shirt and a loose scarf knotted around the neck.

  “Stop asking, Donquery.”

  “Yes, Boss~”

  Donquery nodded, before skipping his pace and jumping lightly toward the village.

  “...”

  “We lost another Apprentice Stage. Only three remain." Danz murmured, looking at the charred monster corpse now being stuffed inside a rough sack.

  He clenched his jaw.

  “At this rate—”

  “BOSS!”

  A sudden shout cut through the air!

  “What?”

  From a distance, a man came running, his breath ragged and frantic as he yelled.

  “The Trader! The Golden Trader, they wish to meet you, Boss!”

  Danz’s eyes narrowed.

  “Golden Trader? What do they want now?” Danz growled, his eyes flaring red.

  I won’t go into detail since it's not needed right now. The more detail about this will be explained in vol.2.

  Donquery = don't query.