Chapter 25: The Wanderer of the Pale Forest

Kritiya copied the third chapter of The Proverbs and Answers onto scrap paper, carefully compiling it with earlier sections, then set down her pen.

After finishing, it was noon, but Diya and Nolan hadn’t returned.

The girl kept glancing at the door.

Then, I heard a loud “thump, thump, thump” on the door, rattling the wood.

Was it Nolan—or Diya?

I paused, realizing neither would knock so roughly.

Kritiya clearly thought the same, crouching and quietly backing away.

“Who is it… the baron’s warrant? But Nolan confirmed there was no warrant,” I thought.

A voice shouted outside.

“Open the door! Open it!”

“Anyone in there? Open it quick, or I’ll break it down!”

The man outside meant business, slamming the door.

I heard commotion in the hallway, neighbors’ screams, like a crowd was out there.

Nolan’s rented house was a row of wooden lofts, like apartments.

I bet the neighbors were being harassed too.

The door began to give way.

Kritiya grabbed the dark red cloak, slipped it on, and tiptoed to the back of the house—

Luckily, an escape route was planned.

She stepped onto a chair, climbed onto the table, and pushed open a loose ceiling board, revealing a path upward.

She climbed into the attic, sealing the board behind her, and crawled through a dusty, web-filled space.

At the attic’s end was a wooden panel door.

Opening it, cold air rushed in, making her shiver.

Kritiya leaned out, gripping the house’s outer beams, checking for anyone nearby, then slid down a pillar, landing in the muddy yard behind the house.

I glimpsed over a dozen shadows at the front, like they might surround the house.

Kritiya stared, tightened her cloak, pulled up the hood, and considered slipping past the nearby wall.

“No, something’s wrong!”

I sensed danger, my heart jolting.

Kritiya froze, looking back.

Behind the house stood a figure.

Man—or woman?

I focused, seeing a tall, short-haired figure, rugged like a man but a woman.

Her sharp features and fearsome scar weren’t enough to define her—the green cloak over chainmail and the greatsword on her back screamed warrior.

I see—

I thought.

This chaos wasn’t the baron’s warrant but caused by this woman.

“Little girl, if you’d walked away without turning, I could’ve pretended I didn’t see you.”

Her threat was clear, though without murderous intent.

Kritiya glanced around, asking.

“Who… are you?”

“No need to know my name… hm?”

As Kritiya steadied herself, the warrior let out a grunt.

Her black cloak swayed, her form blurring instantly.

Before Kritiya could turn, the warrior appeared behind her, grabbing her neck.

“Urgh—!”

Kritiya struggled, kicking, on the verge of blacking out.

“Tch, quite stubborn…”

The moment the woman spoke, I snapped awake, raising my arms.

Clang!

The chain under the cloak lashed out, aiming for her eyes.

Her grip pinned Kritiya’s arms, but she didn’t account for the chain.

The woman reacted fast, ducking, but the chain grazed her scalp, hooking around her neck.

“Ha?”

She gasped in surprise.

This alerted the searchers ahead.

I heard shouts and footsteps nearing the narrow yard behind the house.

“There! Chase her! Behind the house!”

“Let go! My pursuers are coming! You’ll get dragged in!”

“Urgh…!”

Is this woman dense?

She’s the one choking me, not me refusing to let go.

But with my throat squeezed, I couldn’t say it.

As I focused, ready to use magic by force, my feet suddenly lifted off the ground.

The woman, holding me, leapt over a ten-foot wall.

I heard shouts and chaos behind as city thugs in cloth clothes, wielding knives and throwing axes, climbed over.

An axe whizzed past, thudding into the ground.

She glanced back, saw the thugs scaling the wall, and darted into Romern’s Lower District alleys.

Her speed was dizzying, disorienting me.

When I came to, the house was out of sight.

“Where is this…”

I scanned the city, spotting a giant windmill.

This woman had carried me to the roof of a windmill granary.

She released my throat but covered my mouth, hiding behind the windmill, watching the street.

The thugs poured from the alley, scattering like headless flies.

“Alright, little girl—don’t scream, I’ll let go, and you release me, deal?”

The woman spoke slowly.

I nodded.

She let go.

I unhooked the chain, half-kneeling on the roof, rubbing my numb arms.

“If you’d just passed out… it’d be less trouble.”

She sighed, then fell silent.

I glanced at her, puzzled, and saw her staring with an odd look.

Her gaze unnerved me.

Suddenly, she lunged, grabbing at me.

On guard, I dodged instinctively—

And stepped on a loose tile.

This was a granary roof!

My body tilted, losing balance.

I flailed, trying to steady myself.

The woman grabbed my wrist, pulling me back from the edge.

Still shaken, I steadied myself.

Her hand gripped my wrist like a vice.

Her voice turned cold.

“Little girl, what’s this?”

“Damn, she saw the shackles!”

My heart leapt to my throat.

From those moves, I knew she was a formidable warrior.

Could my amateur black magic escape her?

“Who put these on you?”

I opened my mouth, unsure how to answer, sneaking a glance at her face.

Then I saw an expression rare in this world—righteous anger.

Honor, loyalty, dignity, ambition, coldness—Airandil’s warriors often wore such looks in court or tournaments.

But this woman’s face held “justice.”

“Oh—I get it. Some noble or merchant dealing in slaves, right? I know—this country banned slavery over a century ago, but it still happens. Tell me—who did this to a kid your age?”

She gripped the iron ring on my arm tightly, then crouched, looking at me.

“Little girl—oh, I scared you, didn’t I? It’s okay, see, I’m not bad, not scary.”

She touched her face, and I realized the scarred, fearsome visage was a lifelike mask.

Beneath short hair emerged a beautiful face, weathered by time, with slightly pointed ears hinting at non-human blood.

“Your… your name? Are you… Da… Da…”

Looking at her, I vaguely recalled something.

A warrior with non-human blood… she’s no nobody.

“Huh? Is my name that famous?”

She laughed, then spoke solemnly.

“Indeed, I am Darryl, a ranger from the Pale Forest.”

It’s her!

Darryl—her name was familiar, tied to the novel.

When she removed her mask, I knew who she was.

A short-haired female half-elf warrior—how could I forget such a distinct figure?

Moreover—she’s one of Nolan’s teachers in the novel.

Such a coincidence?

Why did I meet her?

Or… because Kritiya’s entangled with Nolan, meeting those tied to him was inevitable?

“Oh—are you a fan? I’m a bit embarrassed…”

Sensing my shocked gaze, Darryl let go, stepping back.

“Anyway—consider this my apology. Let’s talk somewhere else.”