That night, Walpurgis finally returned to his quarters after a long day of work. But the moment the seasoned adventurer stepped inside, a deep sense of wrongness hit him.
In a heartbeat, a sharp longsword materialized in his hand. He scanned the dim room with wary eyes—the window he'd shut before leaving was now open a crack.
A cool breeze whispered through, tugging at the curtains—and behind them, a faint, shifting shadow.
Without hesitation, Walpurgis lunged forward, yanking the curtains aside. But there was no one there—only a plump, tiger-faced pigeon perched on the sill.
At its feet sat a small box.
Startled by the sudden movement, the pigeon flapped its wings wildly, glared at Walpurgis with almost human irritation, and flew off into the night.
Walpurgis didn't chase it. He simply stood there, sword raised, watching the bird vanish into the dark. Then, lowering his blade slightly, he used its tip to pry the lid of the box open.
The moment the lid lifted—his pupils shrank sharply.
Inside the box was a lock of hair—a color he knew all too well.
That familiar shade...He could never mistake it—because his daughter had once had the same hair.
Western road outside Scone City.
A caravan of roughly twenty people moved slowly along the cobblestone road. Two carriages rolled in the center, surrounded by twenty cloaked riders.
Their horses and armor were all wrapped in rough linen cloaks, patched and tattered, hardly looking like professional guards. If not for the fact that they actually had horses, one might've mistaken them for a band of vagabonds.
Inside the leading carriage, Hel lay with his head on Anna's lap, while the catgirl Niv kneaded his chest lazily with her tiny paws.
"It seems Walpurgis is actually Visti's grandfather," Hel mused.
"According to the intel from Witt and the others, that's right, nya," Niv replied, licking one paw before resuming her gentle paw massage.
"So, Master plans to use Visti to win over the legendary adventurer?"
"No need."
Hel shook his head, brushing Niv's damp paw away before she could smudge his shirt.
"I could tell—his mind is fractured. Killing his own sister back then scarred him far deeper than he admits. Maybe he did it to survive, or maybe to stop her from becoming a Holy Grail…But either way, it's something he'll never forgive himself for.
"As long as he's bound by that guilt, he'll never be able to construct his Inner World. He's not one of the Transcendent lineages who can refine emotion into power. His despair is his heart demon—and it's holding him down."
"So… he'll never reach Saint rank in this lifetime?" Anna asked quietly. As Hel's head maid, she'd always cared for her subordinate Visti—and that meant caring, too, for the girl's last remaining family.
"Not unless he breaks his inner chains," Hel said.
"Or switches to the Transcendent Lineage's battle-qi system. Otherwise, he'll stay stuck at the peak of Sixth Rank forever."
Of everyone present, Hel was the only one who had successfully built an Inner World. When it came to reaching Saint rank, his word carried weight.
Still, Niv tilted her head curiously. "So, Master's not going to recruit him, then?"
"Not now." Hel's expression softened.
"Doing that through Visti would feel like taking advantage of him when he's broken. Besides, the man's surrounded by trouble.
"You saw that old man with him? That's the former King Deezer—the last ruler of the Deezer Kingdom. A former monarch personally keeping him under watch, with the Holy Tribunal's spies crawling all around…If I tried to recruit him now, I'd be inviting disaster.
"As long as he knows Visti is safe and well, that's enough. There's no need to pull him into our affairs just yet."
"Well, whatever Master says, nya, "Niv purred, rolling over and curling into a warm ball on Hel's chest.
Hel sighed helplessly, stroking her soft fur,and found Anna watching him with a faint smile.
"Tired already, young master? You should rest."
"Yeah. And you, Anna—you're not undead anymore. No need to keep forcing yourself awake. Let's unfold the seats and sleep properly for once. Otherwise all the effort I spent designing this carriage would go to waste."
Hel sat up with Niv still in his arms, pressed a small button, and the seats smoothly folded down into a narrow bed. He pulled out a blanket set from his storage ring, and, without much ceremony, pulled Anna down beside him.
Anna didn't resist—she simply let him hold her, her face calm as she drifted into sleep.
As for Niv… she ended up serving as Hel's pillow.
To be fair, the first time he did that, the catgirl had been utterly stunned. Who in their right mind used a living Hajimi cat as a pillow?
But, well—it was Hel. And when it came to him, she could only sigh and indulge him.
Outside, under the silver glow of the moon, the caravan rolled on quietly into the night.
In the second carriage, Witt wasn't faring as comfortably.
Maybe it was excitement—returning to his homeland after so long—or maybe worry about what dangers awaited on the road. Whatever the reason, he hardly slept a wink.
So by morning, with dark circles under his eyes, he climbed up to the driver's seat himself, hoping the crisp dawn wind would clear his head.
But then—he spotted something.
Out of the corner of his eye, a few shadowy figures flickered past the top of a nearby hill. Witt's expression stiffened.
He'd traveled this route plenty of times. He knew what that meant.
If he wasn't mistaken, those were mountain bandits—likely working under some local noble as hired hands. Normally, such men wouldn't dare touch a noble caravan.
Except…
Witt glanced around at their own convoy. The disguises might have been a little too good.
From the outside, they didn't look like nobles at all—just a ragtag band of wanderers on the road.