The Oracle Paths

"Hic! Em, sir! Hic! Ima talk'n to ya, hic!" A tipsy guy barked as he teetered in front of them to block their path.

The man in his forties had only an old spear in his left hand, which he was using as a crutch to keep his balance. In his right hand, he had an equally shabby dagger aimed straight at them that he surely thought was threatening.

If his face wasn't puffy and purplish, his eyes glassy and his breath didn't reek of absinthe and carrion, then perhaps his attempt at intimidation might have worked. If it had been just Trash, he would have had his chances, but today really wasn't his day.

This kind of lousy scum was the eighth or ninth one they had encountered since leaving the Wilderness. After stepping into civilized lands, the monsters had been replaced by bandits and misfits.

Instead of answering him, Jake mentally scanned the area with his mental sense and found, as he expected, another group of armed drunkards camping around a fire in a ruined house. The troublemaker had noticed them by chance while going to pee the little water he had left in his body.

"Godamit! Hic, ya hear me?! Give your gold, or, or... hic, you'll regret it!" The bandit hiccupped as he revealed an incomplete row of yellowish stumps.

Jake rolled his eyes in exasperation. Glaring at Trash, the teenager understood his intention and flashed yet another apologetic smile. It was because of him that they were running into all those jerks.

When he was roaming with his gang, with their numbers and equipment they didn't have to fear this dregs of humanity. Jake had let him lead the way, but all they did was run into a string of bad apples. If he had kept his giant size, these mercenaries would have thought twice before messing with him, but now that he looked like a handsome young man he had to deal with other inconveniences.

If that was all, Jake could have simply killed them with a single thought, but they were in the territory of the great self-governing city of Lodunvals. As loathsome and abhorrent as these mercenaries were, they had apparently been conscripted here to defend the empire from the monster hordes. As long as they performed their duty during the day, the authorities would turn a blind eye to their crimes, counting them simply as victims of monsters.

The logic behind it was simple: No non-volunteer woman, man or child was supposed to loiter in these abandoned and wrecked villages.

If they weren't members of an adventuring group, the army or powerful heroes, then they were local villagers who had refused to evacuate when the order was given or outlaws without an ID. From Lodunvals' point of view, they were already considered dead.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, Jake found no one to save from their clutches here, nor did he find any suspicious stench besides that of sweat and grime. If the duo were not their first targets, then they were already long dead.

"B-bastard! Since ya don't want to give up yer money, ye don't have to be nice, hic!" The mercenary yelled frantically as he ground the air with his menacing dagger. "And ya kid, hic! Ya can keep the captain warm at night!"

To prove his words with his actions, he wildly threw his spear at them, but he was clearly far too drunk as the projectile flew high over their heads. Jake and Trash followed the parabolic trajectory with a pitying look.

It should have been a wake-up call for the drunk, but not content with being shamefully inaccurate, he let out a screeching cry of rage and charged as he wobbled from left to right, even stumbling a few times before coming up short in front of them.

If the bandit had stuck to racketeering, Jake would have spared him like the previous offenders after knocking him unconscious, but his last words washed away his last qualms.

A Soul Beam burst from Jake's pupils and pierced the drunk's forehead, obliterating his consciousness and soul in the process. In the split second before his death, Jake tortured his mind for the names of his captain and the other unpardonable criminals, then delivering his judgment, the heads of the six identified bandits exploded loudly, spraying the other drunken and terror-stricken mercenaries with brain juice.

Screams of horror echoed through the abandoned house as Jake and the teenager headed off again. Trash stood stunned for a brief moment, his gaze locked on the distorted, horrified grimace of their attacker, but he pulled himself together and trotted hurriedly behind Jake to catch up.

He was stupid, not naive. He knew what kind of unenviable fate awaited him if he fell into the hands of the wrong people. A healthy boy with all his teeth like him wasn't something you'd find on many battlefields.

"I thought Lodunvals was safer than this. If you hadn't told me this town had an excellent reputation, I never would have believed it." Jake pursed his lips dismissively.

"Ahem... Compared to Laudarkvik, it is indeed..." The boy coughed embarrassedly.

After that, he didn't try to convince Jake anymore to spare them for the sake of the law. Jake didn't hesitate either. Anyone who had the audacity or foolishness to mess with them would join their maker in the afterlife.

Anyway... Jake had just remembered that the natives of this world did not believe in an afterlife. Still, on the way they saved several dozen people. Some of the families who had not been molested were grateful to them, but they refused to travel with them to Lodunvals.

Lodunvals was closer to them than Laudarkvik and on the path to the latter. Trash had his few friends there and he had to inform the families of his gang's dead mercenaries. That was the only reason Jake had agreed to drop in there in the first place. His intuition, or his luck, told him that it wouldn't be as convenient to get his papers once he got there.

When dealing with the government, it was best that the guards and officers in charge were not blatantly corrupt.

At last, after traveling a few dozen more kilometers, pushing deeper into the lands of Icarden, they encountered their first proper patrol.

Twenty horsemen in gleaming, glittering steel plate armor and streaked with bronze linings that gave them a certain swagger. They all wore barbut helmets that made it easy to distinguish their eyes and the middle and lower portions of their faces, except for the lead rider who wore a morion helmet, more akin to a steel hat with a crest of red feathers decorating its top.

From that point on, they had no trouble. In exchange, they were checked numerous times and Jake, who did not have his ID card, was kindly but firmly invited to be tested as soon as he arrived in town. In case they changed their minds, two horsemen escorted them against their will the rest of the way.

Jake was surprised at how many patrols remained active after dark, but with their levels and Soul Classes, they didn't need that much sleep. The average level of these riders was between 25 and 40, with some of them exceeding level 50.

This was more than he expected in a dump like this, as were their stats. Most were mere humans, but combined with the Aether density of this world it was enough to trounce most ordinary Second and Third Ordeal Players.

In the middle of the night, the great stone wall and majestic towers and castles of Lodunvals appeared in their field of vision and Jake and the teenager felt a welcome surge of excitement. For Trash, it was the joy of returning home alive, for Jake, the joy of getting his Soul Class and advancing his Ordeal.

The unique prospect of visiting an authentic medieval city and enjoying all it had to offer never entered his line of considerations.

"Halt! Your papers."

A vigilant guard, also in glistening heavy armor, barred their way with his long halberd as they reached the great gate. They were on the only bridge across the moat. The portcullis was up, but another soldier on the other side of the wall was ready to lower it at the first sign of monsters or an enemy army looming.

Because Jake was traveling to Lodunvals for the first time and didn't look like one of those lousy scoundrels, he drew immediate attention. The fact that it was after midnight and they were alone on the bridge didn't help either.

Accustomed to these checks, Trash flashed his ID card in front of the guard and one of his bearded colleagues blinked several times before exclaiming with uncertainty,

"Trash? Where's Uncle Oaf and the others?"

The boy's silence and downcast expression gave him his answer.

"All dead. It was Jake who saved my life." The young mercenary played his part correctly as he gestured at him and did his best not to betray his savior's secrets.

"Phew, I see. You've got a hell of a luck kid!" The first guard expressed his compassion, while his bearded colleague darkened.

This was far from the first time they had heard this kind of news in the past few days. But, whether Jake was a savior or not, to enter Lodunvals they would have to show an ID card or get tested.

Seeing their intense, professional gaze on him, Jake knew there was no escaping it. Taking a deep breath, he blurted out,

"I don't have an ID."

It was time for Jake Wilderth to enter their registry...