Eternal Rest

After two hours of jogging, Bones caught up with a group of refugees fleeing Westbrook in the aftermath of the assault. He attempted to reassure them, explaining that the attack had been subdued and that things were slowly returning to normal. However, the refugees shook their heads in sorrow, expressing disbelief that such an attack could occur in the first place. Many had lost loved ones and suffered property damage, leading to a loss of faith in the guild's ability to protect them.

Bones couldn't blame them for their lack of trust. Witnessing the devastation firsthand, with the shopping district and bustling square bearing the brunt of the assault, he understood the gravity of the situation. Westbrook, once regarded as a military town governed by the adventurers guild, now faced a stain on its reputation due to the failure to prevent the attack. Guild Leader Rayne would undoubtedly face scrutiny and demands for accountability.

Contemplating the possible motives behind the attack, Bones recalled the name of the inn mentioned by the old man: Horned Dog. With a sense of purpose, he decided to make his way there.

"By the way, do you have any mana potions for sale?" Bones inquired of a merchant he was conversing with.

The merchant hesitated before replying, "I do have them, but they're not for sale at the moment, I'm afraid."

Undeterred, Bones proposed an alternative. "How about this? I'll protect the caravans until we reach the next city, and you can compensate me with mana potions and other adventurer supplies."

The merchant's eyebrows shot up in consideration before he asked if Bones was an adventurer. Upon learning that Bones was a bronze rank contractor with the guild, the merchant eagerly agreed to the proposition, and they continued their journey together. By nightfall, they arrived in the small village of Little Westfield, where they negotiated a place to set up camp with the village chief for a small fee.

Though the village had been spared from the undead attack, they had fortified their defenses and increased their militia, comprised mainly of village hunters. Despite the peaceful night for Bones, the refugees remained restless, some too tired to stay awake while others anxiously planned for their uncertain future. With one more village to visit along the way, the journey ahead promised to be filled with challenges and uncertainties.

Their destination was the bustling city of Stonefalls, home to approximately twenty-five thousand inhabitants. Situated at the base of a mountain chain, the city was renowned for its stone quarries, which contributed to its thriving economy. In addition to the presence of a minor branch of the Adventurer Guild, Stonefalls boasted guilds dedicated to crafting and construction. Unlike Westbrook, the city was governed by a mayor and protected by city guards, ensuring the safety of its citizens.

Thanks to the formidable defenses bolstered by the construction and crafter's guilds, the city's walls were impregnable to all but the largest monster hordes. As dawn broke, the caravan resumed its journey, eager to reach their next destination. With the next village only a few hours away, they planned to stop there for lunch before continuing the longer trek to Stonefalls. As the hours passed uneventfully, Bones occupied himself with meditation.

Upon their arrival at the village, Bones and the caravan were warmly greeted by the village chief and guards stationed at the entrance. Bones couldn't help but notice the significant role the village chief played in both communities, serving as the highest authority figure. Despite their rural setting, the village appeared surprisingly well-kept, boasting urban structures and an efficient irrigation system, indicative of the villagers' resourcefulness and adaptability.

Their lunch at the local inn proved to be a feast, with ample servings of both meat and vegetables sourced from the abundant game in the surrounding woods and the fields ripe for harvest. Reflecting on the changes he observed, Bones marveled at how times had evolved, yet he continued to be surprised by the extent of the transformation.

After the satisfying meal, the merchants engaged in trading with the locals while Bones took a leisurely stroll around the village, taking in the sights and sounds of his surroundings. Lost in thought, he contemplated the idea of acquiring a permanent residence, perhaps even commissioning an earth mage to construct a house in the clearing where his tower once stood—a base of operations for his future endeavors. With a chuckle, Bones entertained the notion of establishing his own little domain.

"Ahoy, we're moving on!" called out one of the merchants, prompting Bones to acknowledge the signal with a wave before making his way back to the caravans. Moving at a steady walking pace, they traversed the main road flanked by open fields and distant forests, with a low stone fence bordering the route. Today, the atmosphere among the travelers seemed lighter, and they engaged more readily in conversation. No one bothered Bones or commented on his distinctive attire, allowing him to enjoy his privacy undisturbed. Grateful for the reprieve, Bones resolved to refrain from any unnecessary violence against his fellow travelers as they continued their journey together.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the road, the tranquility of the caravan journey was shattered by the sudden appearance of a formidable blockade. A burly figure clad in brigandine armor, wielding a massive two-handed mace, stood defiantly in the path, effectively obstructing the caravan's progress. Flanking him on either side were two accomplices: a lean man similarly armored, armed with a bow at the ready, and a woman brandishing a sword while holding a torch aloft, casting flickering light over the scene.

The tension in the air was detectable as the caravan came to a halt, the travelers exchanging nervous glances and murmurs of concern. It was clear that Bones would need to intervene to address this unexpected threat looming ahead.

Bones didn't linger to hear the clamor of shouting and apparent negotiations in progress. He quickly discerned the brigands and found them sorely lacking. He sensed that the trio at the forefront were not the only ones prepared to greet them. Unbeknownst to the caravan's occupants, they were encircled. Three stood upfront, two lurked to the left, three more to the right, and two approached from the rear. Bones stealthily maneuvered to the rear of the caravan and swiftly dispatched the two approaching gang members without attracting attention. The darkness provided ample cover, and everyone's focus remained fixed on the ongoing negotiation rather than their surroundings.

Turning his attention to the two lying in wait, arrows at the ready, aimed squarely at the caravan, Bones prepared to strike. One of the brigands, with keen perception, sensed his approach and wheeled around just as Bones's sword sliced through his throat. The second brigand, startled, spun around and instinctively loosed an arrow, striking Bones squarely in the chest. Despite the arrow embedded in his torso, Bones pressed forward, driving his sword into the man's chest.

The uproar from the sidelines shattered the air, halting the ongoing negotiation in its tracks. All present froze momentarily, exchanging wary glances, hesitant to take action. Everyone except Bones, who seized the opportunity to conjure Bone Spikes beneath the feet of the trio at the forefront. The jagged protrusions tore through flesh and bone, rendering them incapacitated. Startled by the sudden chaos, the refugees sprang into action, arming themselves with whatever they could grasp.

Bones darted between the wagons to the opposite side, where the remainder of the gang launched arrows at the caravan before retreating into the dense forest. Employing another set of Bone Spikes crippled one of them, but the other two managed to escape beyond the range of his skill. Unfazed, Bones swiftly closed the distance, dispatching the injured brigand with a lethal swipe that sent his head rolling. With deadly accuracy, he then hurled his lance, striking down the second assailant from a distance. Meanwhile, the third brigand halted his retreat, bracing himself for an impending confrontation as he charged towards Bones with a weapon in hand, and a fierce warcry.

Confident in his prowess, the brigand believed he stood a chance in close combat.However, Bones outmatched him in both skill and experience. He effortlessly dodged the incoming sword strike, then ruthlessly plunged his fingers into the man's eyes, robbing him of sight in a brutal and calculated move. Simultaneously, he wrested the weapon from the brigand's grasp with his other hand. The brigand's screams pierced the night for a fleeting moment until they were abruptly silenced, leaving only an eerie stillness in their wake.

Bones shifted his gaze towards the caravan but refrained from rushing to its aid. His keen senses detected that the occupants had taken control, disarming and confronting the captured brigands. They stepped aside as he approached, expressing relief at his survival.

"Mr. Jones, I'm relieved to see you alive! We were worried, I mean, they…" The man's words stumbled and faltered, panic palpable in his voice as the lingering adrenaline refused to abate.

"Relax, I'm fine!" Bones reassured them, momentarily forgetting about the arrow shaft lodged in his chest. "What do you propose we do with them?" he inquired, diverting their focus to the injured and bound brigands. The trio lay in agony, blood flowing freely from the puncture wounds inflicted by the Bone Spikes, rendering them unable to walk without urgent healing intervention.

"I-I don't know, I don't know! We can't just let them be! And we're too far out of the way to hand them over to the authorities," the caravan leader stammered, expressing the dilemma that weighed heavily on everyone's mind. Bones listened as they deliberated, sensing their underlying desires beneath their uncertainty.

cough cough Bones feigned a cough to draw their attention. "How about you go on ahead? I'll deal with them and catch up with you later, alright?" he proposed, observing the relieved expressions that swept over their faces as they contemplated his suggestion.

“Yes, that would be for the best. Thank you, Mr. Jones,” they responded gratefully, the tension easing as they quickly resumed their journey. Fortunately, in the brief confrontation with the gang, no serious injuries were sustained aside from a lone arrow wound, allowing the caravan to swiftly move forward, leaving Bones silently observing as the caravan vanished into the night, slipping beyond the reach of his senses. With a resigned sigh, he turned his attention to the unconscious brigands strewn before him. One by one, he impaled them with the lance in his hand. As he surveyed the meager experience gained from dispatching the brigands, Bones couldn't help but reflect on the gradual slowdown in his leveling pace since emerging from the dungeon and reaching level twenty. The scarcity of worthy adversaries matching his skill and prowess in these parts, save for the occasional silver and gold ranker from the Adventurer's Guild, posed a frustrating challenge.

With a determined stride, Bones hastened to rejoin the caravan, effortlessly catching up with the others before quietly settling onto one of the wagons. No words were exchanged, and the events involving the gang faded into the night, leaving behind only the faint echoes of their encounter.

During the journey, Bones caught glimpses of distant farmhouses dotting the landscape, their occupants diligently harvesting fields while sturdy, bull-like animals grazed peacefully nearby. It seemed like a peaceful life, marred only by the ever-present threat of monsters lurking in the nearby forests. The caravan encountered patrols every hour or so, and watchtowers overlooked the roads and woods in the distance. From fleeting conversations with fellow travelers, Bones learned that such patrols and watchtowers were commonplace near towns and cities, serving as a deterrent against monster incursions. Attacks by monsters were less frequent in these areas, typically occurring only during periods of heightened monster activity.

Curiosity gnawed at Bones as he pondered why settlements like Westbrook were established in such remote areas, far removed from the protective embrace of bustling cities. The answer, of course, lay in the pursuit of wealth. The farther from the city, the higher the risk of monster and bandit attacks, resulting in cheaper housing and lower overall living expenses. With little choice, people often opted for the relative safety of a solid roof over their heads. This reality also drove merchants to venture to surrounding villages and towns for trading, where there was less competition for goods and prices.

Was it worth risking their lives? Bones pondered, but such was life. The system offered numerous paths, yet few dared to tread the perilous road to power. Should he consider himself fortunate for ending up in his current situation? Bones reasoned that he should.

He weighed the pros and cons but struggled to find many disadvantages in being undead. The only real setback, he surmised, was the lack of sensation—the inability to fully experience touch, taste, and smell again. While moments of surprise, shock, and awe still registered, they felt dulled. Anger would erupt in bursts, and killings? They didn't affect him as deeply as they should, a fact that troubled him more than the acts themselves. If not for his capacity for rational thought, he feared he might descend into a murderous rampage, slaughtering the entire village simply for the sake of experience and levels, despite knowing it would yield little.

He speculated that his undead nature was reshaping his perspective and behavior. Whether for better or worse, only time would reveal. He acknowledged that acting emotionless and without hesitation in certain situations had proven advantageous, aiding him in overcoming challenges. As he exhaled audibly, drawing the attention of his fellow travelers, they quickly averted their gazes to avoid detection. Though their eyes were no longer on him, Bones sensed their attention and focus keenly—an odd manifestation of Mana Sense. Reflecting on it, he recalled the scout from Westbrook approaching him unnoticed.

Could it be intent that allowed him to vaguely sense everyone around him? It seemed that the focus of intent didn't necessarily have to be on him, but on anything undefined. Without intent, there was nothing to sense. Could he learn to conceal his thoughts and intent as adeptly as that scout from Westbrook?

Determined to uncover the secrets of this skill, he resolved to seek answers in the capital. As the caravan passed the patrol for the fifth time, they endured yet another round of probing questions. Tensions remained high since the undead attack, or perhaps this was simply the norm? Observing a signpost indicating the direction to Stonefalls, with the distance of 42 km written beside it, Bones realized that their journey was drawing to a close. Eager for respite, he looked forward to quenching his thirst for coffee upon reaching their destination.