Nomad jolted awake, choking on the liquid in his lungs. It burned like acid, and he coughed it out. His desperate gasp for air drowned by the blaring siren. He opened his eyes and saw a layer of frost covering the crystal of his sarcophagus. He moved, but his muscles were stiff and sore. He reached for his face and felt a slimy cord in his mouth and a cold metal plate on his cheek with a breath rune etched on it. Pulling it out, he wondered why the hell did it leak?
“Current Year: 954. Hibernation period: 320 years. Security breach. Emergency awakening.”
A metallic voice announced, the words flashing on the crystal surrounding his sarcophagus. He blinked, not believing what he saw. Year 954. Holy shite. He had slept for nearly 320 bloody years. What the hell had Zereth done to him?
He had expected Zereth to wake him up after a decade. Not a security breach after centuries. Where was his magus friend? What had gone wrong?
The siren blared again, cutting through his line of thoughts, followed by a metallic voice.
“Warning, warning. Intruders detected. Security breached. Evacuate immediately.”
He saw the panels inside the sarcophagus flashing red and yellow. Someone had found his tomb, a place that should have been secured and well hidden. Zereth had not woken him. He had abandoned him, too. Whoever had found Nomad's tomb was not a friend.
Nomad was in danger.
With a slam of the lever right beside him, he released the runic seals on his sarcophagus. His muscles were sore as he fell forward, pushing the lid open with a thud and landing on the ground. A hissing sound came from the sarcophagus, followed by a rush of liquid. A liquid that had kept him in slumber, a clear blue that sparkled with remnants of Aether it had sucked from his shard.
The cold air hit his skin, and he groaned, cursing Zereth's name as he grabbed the smooth and glossy surface of the sarcophagus. Feeling the warmth of the runes that covered it, he forced himself up, eyes on the metal chamber filled with cords and runes.
There wasn't a trace of the bastard in the tomb. Nomad had slept for centuries, while Zereth had disappeared without a word.
His training kicked in to suppress his emotions. He was alone in his tomb, with no clue what awaited him outside. Whether or not Zereth had betrayed him did not matter; he needed to focus.
He staggered towards the exit of the chamber, passing by the white marble walls and pillars reaching up to the high ceilings and wide arches of the spacious hall. His legs and arms tingled and burned, screaming in agony after being in a semi-dormant state for nearly 320 years. The sudden movements didn't help his strained body either. They sent jolts of pain down his spine.
Bloody hell.
The power of the Shard of Immortality flooding his veins was repairing everything. However, it was a slow process. Zereth had warned that an extended period of hibernation would cause deterioration and that it would take a few minutes for him to recover his shard's Aether. But the sarcophagus and runes had sucked on his shard like a battery for 320 years and not simply a decade, its power was nearly depleted.
He clenched his fist as his jaw tightened, suppressing the urge to mentally punch his one and only friend.
Looking for an escape route, Nomad peered out the main door. His heart pounded furiously as he inched toward the exit. When he reached to open it, his hands were numb and ice-cold as if his bones were freezing from the inside. The main door was not functioning. Not a good sign. But, like a true professional already aware of the ins and outs of the tomb, he quickly found an alternative exit.
The underground tomb was riddled with runes, with no shortage of traps and guardians to kill any intruder who dared disturb Nomad's slumber. But Nomad didn't trust them. They should be old and rusty. He had been asleep for centuries, not a decade as planned. He ignored the tomb's beauty and looked for the wall he knew had a passageway.
Zereth had left a secret passageway for him, that bloody magus. It was a hidden tunnel behind a loose stone on the wall, barely wide enough for him to crawl, and opened only by Nomad or Zereth himself due to a rune etched behind it.
Nomad cursed and thanked him in his mind as he squeezed through the narrow way. He felt the rough edges of the stone scraping his skin, and the dampness of the earth seeping into his clothes.The musty odor of mold and decay, and the faint sound of dripping water made him reconsider his opinion on Zereth. He simply cursed him this time.
With nothing but darkness for meters on end, Nomad found himself blinded except for the occasional glimmer of a rune that marked the way.
He reached the end of the tunnel after half an hour or so of crawling, where a small wooden door led to another chamber.
He pushed the door open and entered the chamber, which was dimly lit by a single torch.
He spotted the storage compartment on the opposite wall, complete with clothes and hopefully weapons, and walked toward it. After slipping on a tunic and pants he found inside, and securing a belt over his waist, he picked up the cloak and threw it over his shoulders.
He needed a weapon and shoes, but unfortunately, found none. As much as he'd like to look around for some, he sighed and moved on. He had no time to waste.
***
By the time Nomad made it to the surface, the sun was high, but the cold winter wind cut through his skin like a blade, and he struggled to put one foot in front of another. He gritted his teeth.
His vision swam. The sun burned his eyes, but Nomad moved on. The sun's light after so long did him no good. He'd done the math, again and again, but every time the result was the same 320 years. He sighed, trudging along a rough trail amid the forest. The trees swayed in the strong winds and provided little cover from the chilly weather. The rough stones poked at him while he walked barefoot, struggling to find his bearings.
He reached a clearing, and he carefully made his way forward. All of a sudden, a sound to his left sent him hiding behind a tree in alarm. The world around him spun, and his muscles screamed in agony. His heartbeat raced as he lay on the ground like a bag of potatoes, the crisp blades of grass brushing gently against him. Bloody hell, why had he still not recovered? He wanted to check up on his status, but footsteps approached, and Nomad squeezed his eyes shut.
He inhaled deeply and hoped no one would spot him. He'd prefer if he could get out without anything annoying happening. To his relief, the sound of the footsteps grew more and more faint. Whoever was in this area was not hunting him, maybe. For once.
It seemed they had no clue he'd made it out.
Nomad thought they were going back to his tomb. He wanted to avoid them, and he decided to go the opposite way the footsteps went. But he was wrong. The camp was there. He had forgotten how big his tomb was. It was an excavation site of his tomb, and he'd walked straight toward it. The middle of the camp had people digging and moving around. Nomad spotted an elevated fort-like structure to the northwest, protected by multiple guards and cannons. They were cutting away one of the tomb's walls.
This had to be the reason he was awakened.
They wouldn't be able to cut in, though. The tomb's walls were reinforced with hundreds of powerful runes, and if the passage of time hadn't destroyed them, their measly effort would have done nothing. Only someone who could wield powerful magic could get in, and they would have to be a high-level mage. That one possibility was the only reason Nomad hadn't waited inside.
He had to leave fast. He'd already messed up by getting near. He'd assumed the footsteps were going toward their camp and not away from it. If so, who were those footsteps from? Guards on patrol? Scouts? Someone else?
He didn't care. He spun around and headed the other way. If they were cutting the wall of his tomb, they either knew he was there or had simply found a tomb and were interested in what was inside.
Nomad had barely made it out of the immediate vicinity of the camp when he saw a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a man on patrol, wearing a leather armor and a hood. He had a bow and a quiver on his back, and a sword and a knife on his hips.
Nomad cursed as he heard the scout approaching. He had been careless. He had hoped to sneak out of the camp unnoticed, but it seemed that his luck had run out.
A scout? Nomad cursed under his breath. He had to deal with this scout quickly, before he alerted the others.
He made sure to step heavily and make footsteps.
Nomad ducked behind a tree and waited for the scout to pass by. He hoped that the scout hadn't seen him, and that he'd either simply go back to the camp or find the foot trails and come straight to him, and make it far easier for Nomad.
He checked on his shard, the source of his power after his Class became useless, as well as his curse. It was still recovering and was not at full power—three centuries was a long time for it to grow weaker without stimulus. It glowed faintly in his chest, pulsing weakly. He needed more time, more energy, more anything. The scout could be said anything, perhaps. For now.
The scout rode closer, his eyes scanning the ground. He seemed to be looking for something, or someone. He stopped near the tree where Nomad was hiding, and dismounted. He tied his horse to a branch and took out his sword. He walked towards the tree, following the foot trails that Nomad had left behind.
“Lady Emma, perhaps you should stop hiding now.” He said.
Nomad lunged forward and grabbed the scout's arm, not giving a single damn as to who Lady Emma was. He tried to wrestle the sword away, but the scout was stronger and more alert. Nomad snatched the knife on the scout's hips as he kicked Nomad in the stomach, sending him flying back.
The shard sent a pulse of Aether through Nomad's body. Healing. Overworking. Pushing.
The scout opened his mouth to scream for help, but Nomad was faster. He threw a knife at the scout's throat, silencing him forever. The scout's body fell, and a familiar sensation washed over Nomad as the air vibrated, a light manifesting in the form of a screen in front of him.
[Henry (Human) killed — Aether rewarded]
Nomad got up and ran to the scout's body, retrieving his knife and wiping it on the scout's cloak. He looked around, hoping that no one had heard the commotion. He was about to leave when he heard another voice, a high-pitched and cheerful one.
“Hello, Sir Henry! I apologize for running without informing you; I was out of some essential supplies! Food doesn't taste nearly as good without them. Worry not, for I will be making the most delicious food you've ever tasted! Are you looking for some fresh herbs? I have some mint, basil, rosemary, and…” The voice trailed off as a girl emerged from the shadows, holding a basket full of greenery. She saw Nomad standing over the scout's corpse, blood dripping from his knife. She dropped the basket and screamed.
Nomad cursed again. He had no time for this. He ran towards the girl, hoping to calm her down or knock her out. He didn't want to kill a kid, but he couldn't afford to be caught either.
“Hey, kid, listen, I'm sorry, but you have to be quiet, okay? It's not what it looks like, I swear, I just…” He reached the girl and grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to look into her eyes. She was a little thing, with curly brown hair and freckles. She writhed in his grip, her mouth still open in a scream.
“Let me go! Let me go! Help! Help!” She shouted, her voice piercing his ears. He put his hand over her mouth. She kicked him in the shin and bit his hand, drawing blood. Nomad let go of her. She plopped on the ground and ran away into some bushes, still screaming.
“Damn it!” Nomad cursed.
He heard more footsteps, more voices, more swords. He was surrounded. He had to get out of there.
He pulled on his shard's power, feeling a small surge of Aether coursing through his veins. Killing a single human had given him enough Aether for some maneuvers, but it was still not enough for a whole party. He knew he could break through them and even kill some, but it would cost him dearly. His shard was already nearly dried up of power when he'd woken up, he should be getting it back to full strength by killing some bloody monsters instead of wasting it fighting needless dangers. He decided to take his chances and make a run for it.
Nomad sprinted, dodging and slashing his way through the guards he encountered. He felt the wind in his hair, the blood on his knife, the adrenaline along with Aether pumping in his veins. He was almost there. He was almost free.
But then he saw a flash of light in front of him. Someone had cast a barrier, a shimmering wall of light that would encircle him and trap him inside. He cursed and changed his direction. He leaped, feeling a jolt of pain as the barrier grazed his skin. Had it been weak? It was possible, they likely hadn't had the time to prepare a strong barrier. Or did they? He landed on the other side, rolling and getting back on his feet. He looked back and saw the barrier closing behind him. He had made it. He had escaped.
But he wasn't safe yet. He heard more footsteps, more voices, more swords. He was surrounded. He had to fight his way out. He gripped his knife and faced his enemies, ready for anything.
But then he heard a voice, a loud and authoritative one, that stopped him in his tracks.
“Halt, Sir Nomad! You are under arrest by the order of the Goddess! Surrender now or face the consequences!” The voice boomed, echoing in the air. Nomad turned and saw a man on a horse, wearing a shining armor and a red cape.
Nomad snorted. He had no intention of surrendering. He had escaped death too many times to give up now. He threw his knife at the man. But the man deflected it easily.
Nomad cursed. He had messed up. He hoped they were far enough from the camp that he could kill them all before the whole camp was alerted.
Soon, several men rushed into view. They all wore the same uniform. Underneath the leather armor, they had black shirts. The moment the men surrounded him, the one on the horse came forward. The leader's attire was vastly different from the others. A red tassel adorned his helmet, curling blond hair framed his face, and a greatsword hung from his back. He wore actual armor, with a red cape fluttering behind him.
“He is,” one of the men said. “The [Hero]?”
Bloody hell. Nomad sighed. This would be a pain.
“I thought he caught onto us; I was right. There's no way the great [Hero] of old wouldn't have installed security systems,” the leader said with a smile. “I am the Lorena Kingdom's Order of the Sacred Flame's Paladin, Leonel Darcy, a true servant of the Goddess Sylia. It is truly a pleasure to meet one such as yourself.”
As he said that, one of the members of his Order conjured a barrier around Nomad. It was a dome of golden light, shimmering with holy power.
A heavy pressure descended upon Nomad, as if the air itself was crushing him. Immediately, Nomad found himself growing weaker, heavier, and sluggish. He looked over at the screen flashing in the air beside him. It showed a list of debuffs that affected him.
[Holly Prison has been used on the user, three additional debuffs applied inside the barrier's dome]
[Holy Shackles: Reduces movement speed by 50% and agility by 25%]
[Holy Burn: Inflicts continuous damage over time and reduces healing by 75%]
[Holy Judgment: Reduces attack power by 50% and defense by 25%]
Nomad cursed under his breath. He was trapped in a holy prison, designed to weaken and capture him. It wouldn't have mattered and he would've shrugged it off if it were three centuries prior, but at the moment, his Shard of Immortality was nearly depleted. Save for the few humans he'd managed to slay, Nomad hadn't gathered much Aether for his shard's powers. So, while he wouldn't die, Nomad couldn't fight them at the moment, either.
Nomad touched the barrier, and his palm sizzled, his regeneration slower in comparison. Nomad sighed. The barrier was a well-prepared one. Alright. They knew what they were doing.
He blinked at the silence around him. They had not expected Nomad to touch it. The man who had conjured it squeaked when Nomad stared at him, a pathetic sound of a coward who never expected to meet the “legendary” [Hero] Nomad.
Nomad hated that title. He felt the hot pain throbbing in his palm. No walking through the barrier. Got it. He had to find another way out or just die once and be done with it.
“We were worried that you might escape, and take the town nearby as hostage, so we prepared in advance, Sir Nomad.” Leonel said.
“If what the legends told are correct, hasn't he done that before?” Another one said as the rest secured the parameter.
Leonel ignored their comment, taking a step toward Nomad as if this was the greatest honor in the world. Nomad on the other hand was not sure whether to punch him or smile. With each step, the ground below Nomad's bare feet rumbled and began to glow
“Do you have any last words?” Leonel asked, taking the greatsword off his back. “It will be a great honor upon me, Sir Nomad, to put you to peace.”
“You cannot kill me,” Nomad said, plopping down on the ground.
“To show such arrogance while standing on the Goddess's scale…” Leonel lowered his voice, his shoulders slumping as he looked at the few guards Nomad had killed. “I had some hope in my heart, but it appears that the [Hero] has truly been completely corrupted.” He finished, raising the blade. He readied his blow, his sword glowing white and releasing a wave of pure white flames.
“Wait!” A shout rang and the girl Nomad had met earlier emerged from the bushes from the side, tripping over a branch and falling face-first on the ground.
“Did you say that he is the [Hero]!” She exclaimed, springing up and dusting herself off. She clasped her hands over her mouth and ran toward them, her eyes sparkling like stars. Nomad raised an eyebrow.
“What's the [Chef] still doing here? Wasn't Sir Henry supposed to get her? Stop her!” one of the men, supposedly a mage from his attire, shouted as the kid was bolting towards Nomad, getting dangerously close to the barrier which would likely fry the little thing if she got into contact with it. Nomad braced to step through it to stop her. Fortunately, she was grabbed and restrained by the mage and held down.
“What do you think you are doing, Emma? You're supposed to be making food, not dilly dally around,” The mage asked with a frown.
“What am I doing? What do you think you guys are doing? Why are you trying to hurt the [Hero]! He's finally returned!” She shouted, her voice cracking as she struggled on the ground.
“We are but trying to free him from his suffering, child. Don't hurt her, Jacob” Leonel said, finally speaking up, bringing her attention to him.
“What nonsense!” She said, tears bubbling in her eyes as the mage, Jacob, let go of her but still kept a tight hand on her arm. “How can you save someone by killing them?”
“Don't you know what this man has done? After killing the Demon King, he was corrupted. He wreaked havoc on the continent for years before disappearing.” Jacob frowned. “And now, he's returned. Do you think we should let him slaughter innocents? Again?”
“There is no way a [Hero] would do that!”
“Yes, my dear child, there is no way the Hero who saved the continent would do such a thing. I understand your enthusiasm, I really do. We've talked about him a thousand times. But he was corrupted by the Demon King and since then has fallen, the soul of the real hero is inside him suffering and we must save him from agony,” Leonel said, trying to sound compassionate but failing miserably.
Nomad let out a hollow chuckle. Bloody hell, these people were still spouting the same lies they had been fed for centuries. Poor souls, brainwashed to such an extent. At least the girl seemed to have some sense. He had heard this speech about “saving” him many times. Given that centuries passed, this Leonel likely actually believed what he was spouting, and so did everyone else.
“I hope that your soul receives well-deserved rest in the Hall of Goddess,” Leonel raised his sword, white flames covered the sword, hissing loudly, “I shall ask you again, do you have any last words before you face the Goddess's hammer?”
The ground under Nomad shone brighter, death looming over him. Yet he cared little, and he looked over at the girl. Hadn't they just called her a [Chef]?
“No wait, stop!” The little thing tried to wiggle away but she was held down again, and gagged by Jacob.
Time to execute the [Hero] had come, eh? Nomad chuckled yet again. He wondered if anyone still remembered the bounty on his head, or if he had become a forgotten legend. Nomad watched as the girl growled and struggled in anger. The little thing felt like saving him, did she? How cute.
“Sir Nomad, may the Goddess guide you... Forgive me for being your executioner, but it is for the sake of your salvation!” Leonel shouted, his voice echoing in the air. The white flames that surrounded him surged, erupting into a massive pillar of light that pierced the sky, a shockwave dispersing the clouds. The earth trembled and the vapors in the air sizzled away as the flames began to morph into a colossal hammer.
“Hey kid…” Nomad said casually, yawning. This had taken quite a lot surprisingly, but fortunately, now that his hand was healed, shard was functioning again to focus on anything else he might want to do with it. The girl looked up, caught by surprise. “Close your eyes.” Nomad finished.
Leonel let out a cry and swung his greatsword with all his might. The hammer of white flames descended with a thunderous roar, crashing down on Nomad and smashing him into a cloud of dust and ash. The girl screamed and covered her eyes with her hands.
Nomad felt death's embrace—
[Shard of Immortality]: Activated
—and shrugged her off once again.
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