Chapter 45 - 44

Chapter 45: Chapter 44 When Skitz was busy negotiating trade, Lumberling slipped away into the lower markets—the kind of place where stalls leaned into the alleys and the air smelled of grease, smoke, and old leather. No armor sets here. Just scraps, raw parts, and strange odds and ends. ’Perfect.’ He moved deliberately, ignoring the barks of merchants peddling knives and charms. Instead, he found what he needed: thick ashwood planks, straight-grained and uncracked. He tested their heft and picked two. Solid. Durable. Functional. At a metal vendor’s stall, he eyed coils of spring-steel wire and small iron gears. "This batch is tempered," the smith said, trying to sell him on quality. "Good for traps or maybe some clever clockwork." Lumberling only nodded, dropping two silver coins without a word. Next stall—glass jars of charcoal powder, sulfur, and saltpeter. He cracked one open and sniffed. Smoky. Sharp. Just right. "For bombs?" the vendor asked with a smirk. "Bit of a dangerous hobby." "Just need smoke," Lumberling replied. "Scares horses. And people." He paid and moved on. Rope netting, small weights, tension springs, leather cords, hollow reeds, fletching feathers, even hollow clay pots. A strange shopping list by any standard—and not a single hint of what it was all for. By the time the sun slanted low through the city’s narrow alleys, his pack bulged with components no sane man would put together. But in his mind, it was already assembled. Not weapons. Not yet. But ideas made real. And when the time came, they’d be ready. Later, as he was tightening the pack straps, Old Man Dan wandered over, squinting at the strange bundle of supplies. "What’s all this, my Lord?" he asked, lifting a small iron gear and turning it in his fingers. "Doesn’t look like farming tools." Lumberling gave him a sideways glance and shrugged. "Just something I wanted to try." Dan raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Three days later— "We’ve secured a total of seventy full sets of iron armor, one hundred fifty sets of leather armor, one hundred steel spears, one hundred steel swords, one hundred shields, one hundred bows, and five hundred arrows," Skitz reported, his tone calm and precise. "After deducting costs from the sale of monster materials and silver ores, we still have twenty-three gold coins left. That includes the village’s savings and the gold coins you gave us, my Lord." They had spent the past few days conducting trades across multiple shops, deliberately spreading their transactions to avoid drawing suspicion. "Save the remaining gold," Lumberling said. "We might need it for emergencies. Our business here is done—let’s move." He felt no regret spending the bulk of their savings on weapons and armor. That was the point of wealth—to invest it in survival, strength, and the people who followed him. Their group departed from the city, loading the equipment onto carts and traveling through the forest. For a week, the journey remained uneventful. Almost too peaceful. But then— The forest grew quiet—unnaturally quiet. Birdsong had stopped. The breeze no longer stirred the leaves. Only the creak of a wheel and the crunch of footsteps on gravel echoed in the stillness. Skitz narrowed his eyes, his ears twitching. "...Something’s off," he whispered. Lumberling raised a hand. The group halted. Then—a twig snapped in the brush. "My Lord," Skitz said, eyes narrowing. "Dozens of humans are approaching. And... there’s a strong one among them." Lumberling frowned. "I had a feeling this trip was going too smoothly." He turned to his subordinates. "Skitz, use Whispering Veil on Aren, Old Man Dan, and Jen. Use it on yourself, too. You know the drill." "Aren, don’t reveal yourself unless you’re sure there’s no Knight Page among them. If you find one—ambush him." "Old Man Dan, Jen, stay hidden. No matter what." "I understand, my Lord," the old man said. "I’ll protect Jen." "Will you be alright, Brother?" Jen asked, her voice trembling. "Of course," Lumberling said, offering a reassuring smile. "This won’t take long." He raised his voice. "Soldiers, prepare for battle!" Of the thirty soldiers they had brought, half vanished into the trees under the cover of Skitz’s stealth. Lumberling stepped forward with his spear in hand, bracing to meet the attackers directly. He was sturdier than Skitz and better suited for the first clash. A man stepped onto the path ahead, arms folded. "This is Iron Fang Brotherhood territory. If you want to pass, you’ll need to pay a toll." Lumberling’s eyes narrowed. Iron Fang Brotherhood. A coincidence—or not. The bandit he had killed months ago mentioned a brother leading their gang. This must be the same group. "I wasn’t aware this path was claimed," he said casually. "We’ll turn back and find another route." He waved for his group to retreat, never once looking at the man. The bandit blinked, stunned by Lumberling’s indifference. "Wait! Before you go—leave everything you have!" Lumberling paused. "Oh? And if I don’t? Will your hidden friends attack us?" The man’s expression twisted. "He knows! Attack them!" Nearly fifty bandits burst from the forest, surrounding the group. "This is the first time I’ve seen a human commanding goblins," one bandit sneered. "Doesn’t matter. Kill them all!" "We’re gonna be rich after this!" "We’re partying tonight, boys!" Then a larger figure emerged—broad-shouldered, armored in steel, and radiating power. He had to be the leader. Lumberling recognized the man instantly. Mad Molly. A peak Knight Apprentice, just as the dying bandit had said. Lumberling met his gaze without fear. He had fought worse. Molly squinted. "Leave that one to me," he barked to his men. "None of you can match him." The clash began. Jen gripped the edge of Old Man Dan’s cloak, her knuckles pale. She wasn’t trembling—just staring, fists clenched, her eyes locked on her brother’s back as if memorizing it. "I’m not scared," she whispered, mostly to herself. Old Man Dan crouched behind the cart, shielding her with his arm. His gaze never left Lumberling, and though his face was calm, his furrowed brow and clenched jaw betrayed his worry. "My Lord... come back safe," he murmured. The soldiers formed ranks and held formation against the charging bandits. Meanwhile, Mad Molly lunged straight for Lumberling. CLANG! Axes met spear. Molly’s overwhelming strength pushed Lumberling back, forcing him to retreat and deflect with precision. It was clear—the bandit boss had the advantage in weapon skill. ’I really lack the technique to match a Knight Apprentice head-on,’ Lumberling thought, narrowly dodging another blow. Still, he held firm, buying time and waiting for the right moment. BOOM! An explosion rocked the trees. Bandits screamed as goblins and kobolds sprang from hiding, launching a coordinated ambush. Aren was among them, cutting down enemies with ease. Mad Molly clicked his tongue in disgust as his men fell one after another. "Idiots! I raised you mongrels better than this! You call that a swing?! I’ve seen children throw rocks with more power!" One bandit hesitated, clearly shaken by the onslaught. "Oh, don’t you dare cower now!" Molly bellowed. "You run, and I’ll gut you before they do!" "I didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to turn your back," Lumberling muttered. He surged forward, spear thrusting at Molly’s exposed side. "Even distracted, I can kill you!" the bandit roared, spinning around. His axes moved to intercept. But Skitz appeared behind him like a shadow, blade aimed at Molly’s heart. The bandit blocked the strike at the last second—but Skitz pulled a hidden dagger and buried it in his side. "RAAHH!" Molly bellowed, staggering from the blow. "Where did you come from?! Why couldn’t I sense you?!" He clutched his bleeding side, rage in his eyes. "You used poison?!" "Nothing personal," Skitz said, shrugging. "Why not?" Despite the pain, Molly’s will didn’t waver. He turned toward his dying men, his fury boiling over. "Just a bunch of monsters... I’ll kill you all myself!" He charged once more. "Let’s finish this," Lumberling said. "As you command, my Lord," Skitz replied. "But the last hit is yours." The two launched forward. Skitz cast Blackbind—black chains erupted from the ground, coiling around Molly’s limbs. "What the hell is this?!" He struggled, axes slashing wildly. Cracks formed in the chains—but they held just long enough. Lumberling’s spear pierced his stomach. Skitz’s sword skewered him from behind. "GUHHH!" "Say hi to your brother for me," Lumberling whispered. Molly roared, muscles bulging as he shattered the chains with brute force. He raised his axe—but before he could swing, Lumberling wrenched his spear free and beheaded him. His corpse slumped to the ground. Skitz released the skill just before the final blow, ensuring Lumberling landed the killing strike. (You have devoured the Knight Apprentice’s essence. 250 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Knight Apprentice’s memories and experiences.) The battle soon ended. Most of the bandits were dead. A few survivors had been tied up, unconscious. "Leave some alive," Lumberling ordered. "I need to test something." "Report casualties." "One goblin and two kobold soldiers are gravely injured, my Lord. Ten others sustained light wounds," Skitz reported. Without hesitation, Lumberling rushed to the injured. He knelt beside each one, inspecting wounds with practiced hands, wrapping gashes, and stopping the bleeding before it could worsen. His face remained calm, but his movements were swift and careful—efficient, yet never cold. Then they gathered the corpses and set them ablaze—burying would only invite scavengers. When it was over, Lumberling approached the prisoners. They had been knocked unconscious ahead of time, he had no interest in hearing desperate pleas or empty bargains when the time came to end them. ’If they were going to die anyway, I might as well learn something useful from them.’ He then turned to Skitz. "Let’s see if you can absorb human essence. Tell me if anything feels off." He killed one and activated Essence Weave. The essence drifted into Skitz without resistance. "How do you feel?" Lumberling asked. "A little stronger, similar to when I absorbed a monster’s essence. But... the improvement is small." "No pain?" "None. In fact, I feel great." Lumberling’s eyes narrowed in thought. ’So it works. But why so easily?’ He recalled his own need to cleanse monster essence before absorbing it. ’That’s it. These aren’t Knights. Their essence lacks the Knight energy that clashes with a monster’s nature. That’s why Skitz could absorb them without issue.’ Lumberling glanced at Skitz, who returned his gaze with a puzzled expression. ’If my theory is correct,’ he thought, ’then monsters shouldn’t be able to absorb a knight’s essence unless they first purge its Knight energy. The problem is—how?’ ’Unlike me, they don’t possess Essence Devour. They can’t see or manipulate essence the way I do.’ He clicked his tongue inwardly. ’This is getting complicated. I’ll need to run another test to be sure.’ He mentally jotted it down as a priority. ’Next time I face a Knight, I’ll have Skitz try to absorb his essence.’ "Something wrong, my Lord?" Skitz asked. "No. Just thinking." "Life," he muttered, "is an endless series of problems. Solve one, and you’ve made space for the next." Skitz tilted his head. "So... life is just problems?" Lumberling chuckled. "Don’t overthink it. Let’s try the others." They repeated the process. All results were the same. Human essence could be absorbed by monsters—at least, if it wasn’t infused with Knight energy. With his theory solidifying, Lumberling rejoined the group. Their carts rolled forward once again—through the forest, past smoke and silence, deeper into the future.