A man stood in the midst of a vast forest; a place where tall, dense trees surrounded him like a silent wall. He wore a shirt made of dark, simple fabric—clean and well-tailored—with a few buttons left open at the collar, revealing a lean yet well-trained chest. His black trousers were tight and suited for movement, as if they had been sewn not for ornament, but purely for battle. A worn leather belt was fastened around his waist, and the sheath of his sword hung calmly and silently beside his thigh.
His long red hair swayed gently in the mild forest breeze and fell over his shoulders—a vivid color in stark contrast to his dark clothing. Yet his black eyes were devoid of all emotion; eyes belonging to someone who knew neither sleep nor the taste of peace
Six goblins had surrounded him from all sides.
Three of them, at the same time, raised their rusted knives with savage screams and charged at him.
The man calmly drew his sword from its sheath; without the slightest hurry, he took a step forward, as if he were not surrounded, but merely taking a walk.
When the goblins came within a few steps of him and pushed off the ground to strike, a short, bored sigh escaped his chest. His cold gaze slid over them.
"Ridiculous."
He raised his sword and, with utter indifference, delivered a single strike.
The three goblins did not even have time to react; their bodies were torn apart midair, and the pieces fell to the ground with dull thuds.
The man cast an indifferent glance at the corpses and murmured under his breath:
"How boring… once again, no proper prey."
The remaining three goblins went pale at the sight. They let out terrified screams and fled.
The man tilted his head slightly, he stretched out his left hand toward them. Above his head, three ice swords took shape—clear, cold, and deadly.
"You blocked my path yourselves… and now you think you can just run away like this?"
In an instant, all three ice swords were released, plunging into the goblins' bellies with a sharp, piercing sound.
Three short screams echoed through the forest, and the bodies fell one by one to the ground.
The forest sank back into silence—until a furious woman's voice suddenly rang out.
"Are you insane?! Pay a little attention, idiot!"
A golden light burst from the man's body, and a beautiful woman emerged from within it. Her long golden hair rippled through the air, Her eyes, colored somewhere between silver and white, gleamed, and her long blue dress slid softly along her figure. A faint halo of golden light revolved around her body. With an irritated scowl, she stepped forward and smacked the man hard on the head.
"If those had hit their hearts, the Mana Cores would've been destroyed and the kill reward would've gone to waste! How many times do I have to tell you? You must not destroy their crystals. You need to be more careful—otherwise I won't be able to eat my favorite sweets. Is that really so hard to understand, you idiot?"
The man fixed her with a cold stare.
"If you hit me on the head one more time, I swear you won't get a single sweet for a whole month."
Ignoring her protests, he sat down on the ground. He pushed his sword forward, split open the goblins' chests, and carefully extracted the magical crystals embedded in their hearts one by one.
"I'm sorry, Lioran. But you have no right to speak like that to the great and noble spirit, the beautiful and kind Anahita."
Anahita kept complaining nonstop as she circled around him.
"You're really an idiot for not appreciating me and for always threatening me with food. If someone else had me instead of you, they'd be giving me at least six meals of meat and sweets by now."
As always, Lioran showed no reaction. He pulled out two green crystals and reached forward for the third. Without even looking at her, his cold, even voice cut through the air.
"What kind of 'kind spirit' keeps hitting people on the head and constantly talking about how noble and beautiful she is? And since when do spirits even eat food?"
Anahita gave a slow smile—one that smelled less of confidence and more of pure self-admiration. She lifted her chin slightly; her long golden hair rippled in the dim forest light, and the faint golden aura radiating from her body grew a little brighter. With a voice full of pride and satisfaction, she said:
"I can do all of this, Because I'm very special. So you should accept it without complaint and be grateful that you have me."
Lioran didn't even take his eyes off the corpses. His sword was still smeared with the goblins' dark blood. He knelt down, split open the third goblin's chest, and carefully pulled a small green crystal from between flesh and bone. For a brief moment, the crystal glinted in the forest light. He slipped it into his pocket beside the other two and calmly rose to head toward the three goblins he had taken down with ice swords.
Without the slightest change in his cold expression, he spoke:
"I'd be grateful to you… if you couldn't talk this much."
That was enough.
Anahita suddenly frowned. The golden light around her quivered as she shot toward Lioran in a sharp movement. She hooked her legs around his neck, settled herself on his shoulders, and locked her balance in place. Then, with both of her small fists, she started pounding his head over and over in anger.
"You're insane! You crazy Lioran!"
The blows kept raining down, more irritating than truly painful.
"You bastard, ungrateful piece of—! If you didn't have me, who would you even talk to?! The food you won't eat—who were you planning to give it to?! "
Lioran merely clenched his teeth, drew in a deep breath, and let her fists fall—as if this, too, had become just another habit of his everyday life.
When Lioran reached the bodies of the remaining three goblins, he caught Anahita's fists mid-strike and gently held them still. Then he lifted his head, staring up at the sky so he could see her face properly. In a voice that was tired but honest, he said:
"I wouldn't give my food to anyone. Why would I give my food to someone else? You're the one who always forces it out of me. It's been a long time since I even remember what meat or cake tastes like… because I always hand control of my body over to you so you can eat instead of me. If there's someone ungrateful here, it's you."
Anahita knew he was right. She fell silent for a moment. She glanced off to the left, pressed her lips together, and let out a soft whistle that sounded more like dodging the issue than true nonchalance. Then, in a quiet, stubborn murmur, she said:
"Well… because I'm a great spirit."
Lioran knelt again to extract the remaining crystals.
"You don't even believe that yourself."
Suddenly, the distant sound of battle reached his ears.
"Why wouldn't I believe it? I am big like a giant and special like an angel..."
Anahita was still boasting proudly when Lioran abruptly pressed a finger to his lips.
"Shhh."
Without another word, he sprang up and shot toward the source of the sound.
"Hey—where are you going, you lunatic?! What's wrong with you all of a sudden?!"
Anahita screamed in panic, tugging hard at Lioran's head.
"Take my Mana Cores! Don't you dare leave my Mana Cores behind! Don't tell me you're planning to skip buying me sweets again tonight?! My precious Mana Cores—hey, stop! Noooo!"
Fuming, Anahita wrapped both hands around Lioran's face and pulled with all her strength, refusing to let him keep his balance.
Lioran showed no reaction. He ignored her nonstop whining entirely. Then, without warning, he increased his flying speed and surged upward. Fierce wind battered his clothes as he closed in on the sounds of battle.
After roughly thirty seconds of flight, a scene unfolded beneath him.
Among shattered trees and mud-soaked ground, six massive orcs with dark green skin and protruding tusks were attacking a pack of wolves with huge, rusted swords. The wolves leapt and howled, but one by one fell under the orcs' crushing blows. Blood darkened the forest floor, and the sharp scent of iron filled the air.
At the sight, a calm, satisfied smile spread across Anahita's face.
Her eyes gleamed, and her voice suddenly softened, turning bright and cheerful.
"Well… why didn't you say from the start that you found a proper treasure for me? If you'd told me earlier, I wouldn't have gotten so angry. Honestly, you're never alert… you really are an idiot."
She slid down from Lioran's shoulders, descending weightlessly and gently, like light passing through air. She drifted toward the orcs, unnoticed by any of them. Leaning close to one orc's chest—right where the heart was beating—she slowly traced her hand over it with childlike delight.
A strange, entranced smile appeared on her face.
"Ah… my precious Mana Cores…"
Then she drifted between the dying wolves and the orcs, as if strolling through a flower-filled garden.
"Tonight, I'm throwing a proper feast. I'll buy every kind of sweet… chocolate cakes, fruit cakes, cream cakes… ahh, I'll taste every single one of them."
Watching her, Lioran let out only a quiet sigh.
Moments later, after the orcs finished off the last wolf, Lioran sensed another presence—something that had remained hidden until now. His cold eyes fixed on the shadows between the trees.
A two-headed orc slowly emerged from the darkness.
Its body was enormous, packed with muscle. Each head moved independently: one scanned the area with a brutal, merciless gaze, while the other wore a crooked, animalistic grin, showing off yellow teeth. Its heavy breathing echoed through the forest like a low growl, and even the other orcs instinctively kept their distance.
Without question, this creature would have been a true nightmare for most warriors— But Lioran merely gave it a brief glance.
No fear. No excitement. Just a cold, precise evaluation.
To him, the orc looked more like oversized prey than a dangerous enemy.
'Finally…'