After passing through the mud lake area with unprecedented calm, their routine returned to normal.

  For days, maybe weeks, they fought.

  They fought constantly: against dogs, against other creatures that hid themselves deeper in the swamp.

  Dead trees held bugs that cut with their wings, moving almost faster than the eye could see. Mother-Dogs, as Faust named them, were also present—pregnant canines not only the size of a normal human, but carrying smaller dogs with them.

  Thankfully, they were somewhat weaker than a normal dog of the area, and much slower. Since Faust could easily dodge them, there was no need to worry about damage… hopefully.

  Even the environment itself wore on them. Trees were covered in thin spikes coated with a substance that caused immense agony. Faust was unfortunate enough to experience it twice.

  ... Yet the worst of all was the silence.

  Faust wanted to speak. He attempted interacting lots of times, but was ignored until he gave up. Apparently, contraty to him, Chris did not want to speak.

  Maybe he had grown more upset at Faust’s failure than the latter realized.

  Not a single meaningful exchange passed between the two. Once or twice, Chris said something like, “Stop.” “Come.” “Let’s go.”

  But never anything that required an answer. It was as if they were not even enemies or friends—just strangers.

  I don’t need to speak to him. He’s an annoying man. I was just using the chance to learn, and he’s already taught me a lot… Yes, no need to speak at all. Mhm.

  Of course, Chris did not leave Faust behind to die. They fought together. Sometimes Faust would handle most of the enemies, and Chris would simply assist. If the situation grew too dire, the opposite would happen.

  Little by little, Faust felt himself not only growing stronger, but better im almost all senses. His slashes grew more precise, his movements less wasteful, his thoughts sharper and his instincts more often correct.

  Still, I don’t compare to him.

  Faust gazed emptily at Chris’s back.

  How is he so strong… Every time I think he can’t show me something new, I’m proven wrong.

  In any case, we shouldn’t be too far from the goal he spoke of. Though I wish I knew how much longer and what exactly it is, I assume the answer will come when we get there.

  More importantly…

  Closing his eye, Faust concentrated on his heart until he could feel a warm blue energy around it.

  Maybe because Chris had properly taught him, or because he now understood the theory better, Faust was able to visualize mana more clearly.

  Once he grasped it the first time, it became relatively easier. Chris even gave him a couple tips to help in the mana visualization process.

  Entering a meditation state, for example, helped a lot. Clearing out all the distractions of the external world helped in seeing only what mattered: mana. Truthfully, from utilizing this method so much, Faust kept wandering off and entering this state without wanting to.

  In any case, the energy gathered around his heart. If he focused enough, he could see it expand through multiple small lines across his body—from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

  Faust was sure these lines were the pathways to channel mana through his body. The exact “how” was still something he lacked, but he would reach his own conclusions in time. Once a foundation was formed, building knowledge became far easier.

  One could only hope. If he could reach such a level, killing the dogs would become easier, and even defeating those larger creatures might become possible.

  As for them, no more were found.

  Contrary to them, the dogs were already becoming overwhelming in their sheer numbers, showing up in packs of eight to more.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  As they moved deeper, Faust felt a creeping sensation in his heart. Not mana—something else. Something darker, dangerous.

  Was it the furred creature?

  No, it was different.

  What was it?

  Well, it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

  Chris stopped. Faust followed.

  Before them stood a structure that dwarfed anything else Faust had seen.

  What the…

  If not for immense self-control, his jaw would have dropped, his crimson eye staring with intense focus.

  A megalith. Hundreds of pitch-black stones organized in various shapes and forms, as if built by an ancient civilization determined to leave its mark behind.

  Impressive…!

  Without a word—none were needed—Chris ordered Faust to follow with a single hand motion.

  The two entered the megalith site, carefully exploring it, weapons unsheathed. There were many dead creatures, long deceased. Only skeletal proof of their existence remained.

  Yet there were no living monsters. They didn’t enter here, none at all. It felt like a sacred place they couldn’t invade.

  Moving deeper, they soon reached an excavation site. Bodies lay in poorly dug tombs, more bodies than tombs… their remains clearly not well treated.

  These bodies seemed of regular size, too humanoid.

  Ancient humans... maybe elves?! Are they real?!

  Anyway...

  Turning his head, Faust locked his gaze on Chris.

  Is this it?

  What he searched for?

  But then Chris pointed somewhere as he took slow steps towards it. A structure of even greater size than all of before. Except it was no tomb—just earth and mud dug diagonally, forming an artificial cave path at least hundreds of meters deep.

  Along the artificial path, stair steps made of black stone blocks were perfectly aligned with extreme, unnatural precision. Side by side, no gaps, no broken pattern.

  Blue torches on the wall barely illuminated the visible steps. Was this fire? The answer was clear to Faust in an instant: no… it is mana.

  It was impressive. Whoever built all of this had not only spent considerable time, but was surely part of a powerful and large organization.

  Truthfully, Faust wanted to spend more time analyzing the structures, recognizing the place and studying it, but Chris hurried forward without sparing a second thought.

  “We’re here,” Chris said, the corner of his lips rising. “To think it was true. To really think it was true… amazing!”

  Chris turned back, gripping Faust’s shoulder as he looked frantically into his eye. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?” Faust replied, confused. “Is what you’re searching for inside there?”

  “Yes… haha, yes, it is.” Chris couldn’t focus, his eyes alternating between Faust and the stairs. “Let’s go, shall we?”

  While Faust was curious about what lay ahead, he also had a bad sensation. Chills ran down his spine as he observed the steps. “Are you sure?”

  Without even answering such a foolish question, Chris turned his head without letting go of Faust’s shoulder.

  “Good luck to us,” Chris said. “Good luck to me.”

  What is he saying?!

  Suddenly, Chris pressed Faust’s arm with enough strength to bruise muscle.

  “Ah!” Faust groaned. “What are you doing? Let go!”

  Faust tried to free himself from Chris’s grip, but the man was too strong.

  The ominous sensation grew stronger. Out of pure instinct, Faust attempted to slash at Chris’s arm.

  Yet before he could even unsheathe Iron-Beak, Chris pressed his other shoulder and forced him down, buckling his knees and destabilizing him.

  Then, with a soft, innocent smile—a smile full of intent and will, in a voice that carried both danger and mystery—Chris said:

  “Good luck to you.”

  In the next moment, things grew hazy.

  Faust’s vision darkened. Iron taste in his tongue.

  In the last instants before losing consciousness, Faust saw blurred images—of being thrown down the artificial stairs.

  For a flickering moment, Faust managed to breathe out a single word:

  “…Why…?”

  Then, it all turned black.

  …

  Cough!

  Cough! Cough!

  Shit… What happened?

  Faust turned over, got on all fours, and barely scrambled up. His eye focused on the unflickering light ahead—metal torches lined up in perfect harmony, yet providing little illumination.

  Beneath his feet, black bricks descended far beyond.

  The place was dusty… too dusty.

  Cough!

  Why was it so dusty?

  Turning back, he saw the reason.

  It was destroyed. The entrance to the stairs had been destroyed. Stone, dirt, and mud mixed together into an impenetrable wall.

  Just seeing that, Faust could already tell: turning back was impossible.

  And, although his consciousness still somewhat unclear, he remembered enough.

  Chris…

  Chris… that bastard… what did he do?

  Why did he throw me in here? That damn bastard. He didn’t even take my equipment, so why did he do that?

  Why?!

  It's illogical. Why did he do it so suddenly. Non sensical.

  I can't understand him!

  Where are you, you bastard. Let's have a talk!

  Faust’s gaze darted around, searching for any trace of the blonde man, the hero, his companion—but there was none.

  Wait... of course… Did he… Did he leave me alone?

  “Hah…” Faust smiled. “Hahaha…”

  “Hahahahahahaha…. Ahh…”

  Fucking piece of shit bastard!

  Thud!

  Faust slammed the dirt blockage with all his strength.

  “SHIT!”

  His hand bled from the impact, but mana soon stemmed the flow.

  Eye stared at the wall, then at the descending path.

  “I will…”

  Heavy breath. Long breath. Teeth gritted, Iron-Beak gripped until palm bled.

  Descending the path without any other choice, Faust no longer cared about maintaining calm.

  He had done everything right—stayed calm in every situation. He did his best. Even when afraid, he was calm. When angry, calm. When curious, calm.

  Somewhat calm, at the very least.

  But now? Now there was no calm.

  “I will k... find him.”