Ash stood at the center of the pool, his head turning left and right, his eyes scanning the now-empty pool edge. His hands were still slightly trembling from the shock earlier. The pool returned to quiet except for the sound of water from the crack in the rock on the north side and one large boulder that was no longer whole.
Above the branch, in darkness thick enough to conceal her bright green hair, the elf woman sat with one leg hanging down. Her hands opened a thin wallet that had somehow been in her grip without being known when, her fingers pulling its contents out one by one onto her palm.
An identification card. Silver Ash, resident of Pinedale Village, Midreach region.
Several notes of money that she held toward the moonlight to check the denominations. 500,000 Eron, her lips moved calculating the exchange rate, and her eyes narrowed toward the pool below. "About 50 Virel."
Her voice barely came out, only for herself. "Tch, just a poor farmer from Midreach."
Her hand closed the wallet, her eyes not leaving the figure still standing in the pool below. "But what's with that blood color and the regeneration?" Her brow furrowed slightly. "He's not an ordinary human."
Below, Ash looked up toward the night sky above the pool, then back to the water's surface.
The woman was nowhere to be found.
***
The sounds of human activity could already be heard that early in the distance. Ash had just passed the last tree, leaving the territory of Mount Atmos behind him.
The creak of wooden cart wheels over rocky ground, the snorting of horses carrying loads on the left and right sides of the road. The scent of wet earth and grain husks already drifted through the air.
From the direction behind Ash, a heavy footfall sound came that was different from all of that. Ash glanced back briefly and saw a Lambiz walking along the rocky path.
Its body was the size of a full-grown bison with thick fur that flared out around its shoulders and a large tail moving slowly to swat flies. Behind it, a thick rope pulled a wooden cart full of goods crates stacked almost to the height of a rooftop.
Ash turned back to face forward and continued walking.
A large stone gateway stood at the entrance to the city, its name carved at the top in letters that had already faded slightly from the weather. Blackridge.
Beneath that gateway, people walked in and out mixed together without any clear dividing line, merchants with small carts pushing inward, women with baskets on their heads stepping outward, and among all of them, not one turned to look in Ash's direction.
Ash entered the city with his right hand holding the strap of the bag on his right shoulder.
Multi-storey shophouses lined the left and right sides of the road. Several people could be seen communicating from balconies, while at the lower levels people were coming and going.
The architectural style of the buildings resembled that of Pinedale village where the foundations and frames were stone while the walls were made of wood. The wall paint already looked worn and the stone wall sections covered by shadow appeared damp with moss.
"Hmm?" Ash's eyes narrowed.
On the walls of empty buildings along the road, posters were pasted with glue, some already torn at the corners from the wind. Faces on them, names and numbers below. Ash passed all of it without slowing his steps.
Until ... his stomach growled.
Ash stopped briefly at the roadside. "Hmm, my bread ran out before entering the forest, the canned food I already opened for dinner too." Ash glanced left and right.
"Should have brought more," he muttered quietly, to himself.
His eyes swept left and right along the road, searching for a signboard or smoke indicating a kitchen or place to eat. It didn't take long, the smell of hot oil and fried onions came from the right, from a two-storey building at the intersection with its wooden door open wide and the sound of conversation coming from inside.
About ten steps behind Ash, a figure in a grey hoodie and cloth mask walked along the left side of the road, their body kept close to the row of stalls in the shadow beneath. Their eyes followed Ash's back from under their cap.
"What is he planning in a small city like this?" they muttered quietly.
Ash turned right without warning and disappeared through the doorway of the eatery.
The figure stopped mid-step, their eyes on the door that had just closed. "A restaurant? What is he going to pay with?" Their hand clenched slightly at their side. Then their brow furrowed on its own. "Damn. What do I care."
The eatery was fairly busy in the morning. Most of those seated there were men, their clothing indicating their respective occupations, some with shirts covered in dirt stains, some with arms marked by charcoal, some in uniforms showing they had either just finished or were about to begin their shift.
Long wooden tables were lined up with benches on both sides, and at the back, a bar counter stretched along the wall with a rack of bottles behind it. Ash chose a table near the window, sitting with his back to the wall and his bag placed on the floor between his feet.
A woman approached from the direction of the bar, her hair a wavy brown reaching her shoulders, a black shirt beneath an oversized short-sleeved shirt, short denim pants, and at her waist a thin apron with one pocket at the front.
Her steps were quick but not rushed. "Hi, what would you like to order?" she asked directly, without any opening pleasantries.
***