Before we head off for Aste with a large carriage fitted with a soft new mattress, a luxurious carpet- a piece of it at least- and the pillows, as well as duvet, a four days' worth of packed food; mostly fried meats, and my pouch of gold even heavier than before, I thought it wise to have Anselm scout the remaining camps as well as the scene of the ones we cleared.

Anselm is proud of such a cautious initiative of course but at the same time feels apprehensive about the undertaking, he says he still feels that staff piercing through him.

I can understand this much, but alas, the threat of the Bull General remains real and present with every passing moment. And it's even more frightening given the discoveries we make with the little cursory glance over the camps.

Turns out the last two camps have coalesced into one. And with the reports coming from the roads and routes they're close to all saying more and more people have been going missing. Especially frightening is the fact that these reports mark the last sightings of the missing persons to be close to Carbina.

Whatever it is that was stopping the Cultists from moving into Carbina seems to become irrelevant as they seek to fill up their ranks and spread out into their five points.

With the Cultists encroaching I'm a bit more nervous about leaving the Village now. It'll take me six days to get back if I'm very lucky and manage to convince whoever to come back with me to Carbina, the village outcast from the Synagogue whilst being unregistered with the Synagogue as well.

The odds of getting back in six days are slim, very slim, but not slimmer than my chances of survival if I go pick a fight with another Cultist General as I am. Which is why I have to leave.

"Careful on the road to Aste, Lord Ash." One of the hands prepping my carriage for travels warns.

"Why is that?"

He shrugs, "Well the roads have been known to harbour bandits, I know most routes to cities do but these bandits, I hear some of them are monsters."

Well, that's interesting, "Monsters you say. What kind? The man or the beast."

Here he chuckles, "Both."

It looks like the roads may hold some combat in store for me. I need to raise my proficiency; the bone and blood series remain locked for me, as well as many other interesting spells, or should I call them rituals now?

It doesn't take long for the prep to be completed and Anselm hops into the driver's seat, ready to whip the horses for the long journey.

A tailoress I've never had the privilege of meeting came at the last second to gift me with a bundle of clothing; a new black cloak and somehow an exact black copy of the current purple outfit I've been wearing since I got it from Garland.

I worry that the clothes may not fit me seeing as I never came in for measuring but the well-aged woman simply waves my concerns off, certain that they will fit me to the tee, which is somehow even more worrying.

Anselm, unlike me, seems to have stolen time to bond with the people of Carbina and is several times more popular than I am in comparison; he is hounded by many of the carpenters that I ordered to build the post on the open routes, a crowd of what looks like the kitchen servants if the pantry dishes they toss aside to run over to Anselm is any indication and most noticeably is gifted some Whetstone by the blacksmith himself; a tall and deceivingly muscled man fitted with brown sturdy gloves and covered in soot.

Mathilda doesn't come out of the Hall to see me off, lest she truly say goodbye, but the workers and their foremen wave me all the way out the gates and some, even past the farmlands before heading back inside.

For now, it's goodbye Carbina, hopefully I'll return to it still intact.

Aste stood North-West of Carbina, the route to it is thankfully the first route we freed of the Cultists so I don't expect any attacks. And seeing as how the little guard post I ordered to be built still housed live men, I suppose there haven't been any more attacks since that last time with the Speed General.

"From what we scouted, there will be attacks coming in soon." Anselm says, as though reading my thoughts.

I ignore his pessimism in favour of sweet slumber. The carriage is long and wide enough that I get to spread my legs quite a bit, and the sun has warmed up the furs that serve as blankets just the right temperature that my immediate thought is of sleep, short as it may be with a ghost at the reins.

***

The journey is like I expect. Anselm nudges me out of my sleep every so often to either take over the reins or refuel him with mana. I don't get much time with the reins really; he truly enjoys driving the carriage and I'm grateful because I have no idea how to drive it properly.

I'd have to learn eventually, but it's unlikely my learning experience will take place on this trip.

Sooner rather than later I have my dinner, a large dinner too; thanks to sleeping through lunch, I get to have a bigger piece. Unlike back in Carbina, Anselm can't afford to waste food since he doesn't need to eat.

Though, the abstinence makes me wonder where exactly the food he consumes goes. He never needs to excrete; he doesn't sweat but he does tire. It all feels very confusing when I take a closer look at it.

With a routine for travel in place and night fast approaching, Anselm announcing that it's about time we look for a place off the road to camp as the road will be darkened and the horse is exhausted.

"Don't horses have night vision?" I ask.

"Night vision?"

Right. Not much science here.

"Like cats and dogs and wolves even." I clarify.

He hums, unsure of an answer or simply unsure of what I'm talking about. "What does that have to do with anything? I don't think they do."

"Well, I thought we would make faster time if we travelled at night as well."

This time he turns and delivers his usual deadpan look, "I know you're fully rested and your stomach is full, but the horse needs to graze and it needs to rest as well."

"Does it though?"

I chuckle as his eyes become saucers as he realizes and catches on to my Necromantic meaning.

"Yes! Ugh, why? What's the point!" he yells, getting a little hysterical and waving his hands about.

"Well, I'd gain proficiency and we'll make good time. You remember what we have to do don't you? Leriva is counting on us."

"But the horse…"

"Is expendable."

He folds his arms and all but pouts, "They still can't see at night."

Hmm. I ponder on this as I hop out the back of the carriage and head over to the horse. "It'll be undead, it will follow my will, trust me."

"Trust you? You're suggesting we kill our ride to make better time, what if we come across other travellers? I think a dead horse stands out quite a bit, Asher."

I can only groan as I unsheathe my dagger and slit the poor things throat in one clean motion.

"We're not here for other travellers, Anselm. There's an entire village counting on us returning with help, if you'd rather we just forget about Carbina and head on to the Centre of the March like we planned then please, tell me."

Anselm stares down at me from the top of the carriage where he steers and manages the horse. The now dying horse anyway. The only sound between us being the gurgling of the stead.

"Not like you've given me much of a choice in the matter, Lord Ash." He responds rather snidely.

"Animate Animal." I command with a palm placed on the now dead as nails horse, infusing my mana into its dead corpse and causing it to rise once more.

Still, the horse bleeds from where I cut it as it rises to its feet under my masterful puppeteering.

As I climb back onto the back of the carriage where my comfort lies Anselm scoffs, "Such progress."

I can only roll my eyes, an action I find myself more and more accustom to with Anselm around, "Now it doesn't need to see, with my simple directive," I wave a hand and puppeteer it forward, it begins to trot along with minimal effort on my path, "It moves, endlessly, until its hooves become its knees it will move so long as I command it."

Snorting he says, "You do know that it will still need your mana to move right, that's a constant drain isn't it?"

"Perhaps when I was just level five, but I'm a whole level eleven now, my max mana is so much higher than before." I tut at him as I rest my eyes after undergoing such a strenuous activity.

"You and these levels," he groans, "I'll never understand them. Mages."

He continues on whipping the horse forward despite it not responding to his beatings anymore. Quite a long time ago I gave up on trying to explain the blue screen I see, the system I work with to grow ever stronger.

It might be a Mage thing, or perhaps only for people who have the affinity for magic, people like Leriva and Mathilda. But then why would it be set up in such a modern mana? The moment I laid my eyes on it it was so familiar. It and I are the most technologically advanced things in this medieval world of magic.

As such, it could only be that the system is limited to me and perhaps anyone else to suffer the same life transfer I have.

Because of this reasoning, I don't think it necessary to hide how I gain my power, especially not from Anselm, my long time annoying as heck companion.

***

Before either of us realized it, the sun had begun to rise again and we still journeyed on. The routine has long become a muscle instinct, so much that I automatically approximate the time left until Anselm needs a recharge.

Doing this, of course, means that I got little to no sleep through the journey. Anselm can stay around for almost an hour now but in no world or life have I ever learned or attempted to power nap. As such, all I got were varying stages of torpor in-between conversations and recharges.

Anselm was right; killing the horse might not have been the best idea. But we've made time, a lot of time in fact. We passed by a sign post that directed to Aste, Carbina and Ioina with arrows. This was a good sign of progress if any I'd say.

The journey is not barren however, the roads occasionally, or perhaps as a sign that we were reaching closer to civilization, held other carriages and even convoys. In the day time, like now, there are a great many travellers coming through with bags on their shoulders, in their hands or if they were lucky, at the back of their fancy carriage.

However, the populaces migration practices are of no interest to me. Sleep starved as I am all I want to come across on the road is the band of monsters and men waiting to loot, pillage and skin unwary travellers.

My reason to meet these vagrants remains the same as why I wished to fight the Cultists in the first place. I desperately need a proficiency boost.

Animate Animal passively gave me some for simply having the horse puppet walk but not nearly enough that I'm willing to not look for combat.

For an RPG world, there aren't a lot of monsters. How do people grind then? Do they simply practice their magic? Do they exercise? Ugh!

Merely thinking of it begins to paint this place in the same light as that of my old world. Would everything become a struggle for me again? Surely not. I deserve…no I demand more than another uphill battle from life.

A straight road to success would really slap and yet, I hear no growling at night, I hear no chippering or chittering as I did in the cave…the cave!

My eyelids swing open as another theory begins to surface. The cave had all the dangers and more. It had the giant ugly bear that nearly killed me and it had the goblins that truly came close.

In short, the cave had a 100% of the monsters I've seen in this world. The cave is where I found Anselm and the only place where my Sense Death was shut off externally and by something or someone I never saw.

The cave held all the mysteries, the rats, the bear, the goblins. None of it made a lot of sense.

What were the rats eating? If the goblins locked themselves up to protect from the bear then what were they eating? The rats that sneaked in? And the goblins had the only source of water, or perhaps the only one I ever saw, so what kept the bear alive?

The cave is where I got this blue screen, the one no one has or has ever heard of. The cave is where I came into this world.

Could the cave be a dungeon?

***

While I bleary-eyed thought of the implications of the cave being a dungeon and the likelihood of there being many other dungeons out and about in the world. Anselm busied himself and me, by humming songs that seemed not to have lyrics.

As such it is easy to notice when he finally stops and gives me reprieve.

"Hey, look over there." He shouts out just in case I'm asleep.

Groaning I get off my back and out of my thoughts to poke my head out his side of the carriage. "What am I supposed to be looking at?" All I see is the landscape.

On the sides of the road there were several repeating buildings, like a village had once settled here only to be uprooted, leaving behind the broken-down buildings and forgotten farmlands to be the only sign there ever once was a village here.

"There!" He grabs my head and fixes it in a position as he screams.

Finally, I see it. "You mean the road?"

Through the scattered and abandoned buildings of the old village, a road cut through and began a parallel run beside the one we're on. Despite being on the move and almost out of range, it's easy to tell the road does not start in the village.

"Where do you think it leads?" Anselm asks, excitedly. I've discovered he loves travelling. I can't blame him; travel is all we've been doing since we met.

It might just look and seem like just any other road but under the sun it glistened and shone a brilliance of recent construction. The road does not connect, in fact it refuses to connect with the one we're on; its parallel, broken, leafy and stony counterpart.

"Some place fancy." Is my answer.

No doubt the road was constructed to lead into Aste and likely Aste alone.

Another point to support my thought is the indiscriminate demolition of the old village buildings. The construction of the road is likely the very reason those buildings have been abandoned.

Anselm hums with wonder and agreement and soon returns to his tuneless humming as our carriage escapes the sights of the village, but not the road.

With another splash of routine and the rhythmic trotting of the horse as well as the at times violent thudding of the carriage, the sun that'd risen not too long ago begun to set once more.

It worries me that we haven't made it to Aste yet, but I don't mention it. I simply hope it doesn't turn out I killed the Horse for nothing.

Anselm and I stew in silence for a while after the sun sets and the dark begins to encompass all that can or should be seen. The temperature drops sufficiently to have me cover up with the fluffy duvet.

"Look, the road." Anselm says out of the blue.

This time I don't have to go to him. We quickly pass what has him amazed; the roads finally meet at a rather large rock, from then forth the road we travel on becomes as smooth and tarred as the other.

"We must be closing in on Aste!"

"Finally," I groan.

"Wait."

"What is it now?"

"Ahead, there's a carriage, it looks broken down."

I shake my head in wonder, "How can you even see that far in this dark?"

"Slow down the horse."

I do as he asks but wonder, "You want to help them?"

We just got on the good road; we can't afford to lose time helping people who we don't know right now.

He shushes me as we begin to approach the carriage. The carriage is battered down and in poor shape with scratches illuminated by the lamp the four hooded figures around it held.

"Hey there!" Anselm yells, "You need any help?"

One the four snap their necks to us, as if not hearing us creep by them in the first place. Under their hoods, despite the light, I see nothing.

But then I feel mana.

Quick as a wink one of the four whips out a bow, sets an arrow, draws and fires in seemingly a single motion.

The invading arrow strikes the back wheel of out carriage and explodes, tossing the carriage and everything inside over on its head.

The tumble rattles me so badly I don't expect the bottom, now head of the carriage to split open as a giant claymore comes down through it and to me.

CLANG!

The resounding sound of metal scraping metal rings louder than my earlier discomfort.

Wide awake and filled with adrenaline, I see Anselm has retrieved his spear and is now struggling to take on the full brunt of the heavy blade in his awkward position.

"Do something!" He strains.

By now my connection with the Horse has been severed, leaving me free to cast yet another spell. An offensive one.

With the first assailant hulking over me, trying to break through Anselm's desperate defence, they are in reach.

Getting to my feet, making sure to duck under to two deadly weapons, I reach out and touch my assailant's ankle.

"Soul Drain."

Instead of the usually flood of energy through my hand, I feel only my mana sputter out of existence.

[Insufficient Mana! Cannot Attempt {Soul Drain}]

Uhhh wut?

CLANG! CLANG CLANG!

That doesn't sound good.

I don't have to look back to know Anselm's spear has given way. I duck out of the tumbled carriage but my path is immediately blocked by two axe wielders, and the bowman still crouched at their carriage with the light, satisfied to watch.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I whip out my hand and try another spell, hopefully one my mana isn't too spent from traveling to cast, "Death Grip!"

The ethereal hand launches out of my outstretched hand and chases after one of the axe wielders neck.

Frighteningly, these men are not caught surprised.

My target lurches back whilst his partner simply…slices at the last of my mana, breaking the spell.

I did not know that was possible.

I can still hear Anselm and the Claymore wielder going at it. He screams, "Run! Asher. Run!"

I sorely wish I could…