"How old are you, anyway?"
Leornars's voice cut through the heavy, stunned silence that had settled over the forest path.
Stacian, maintaining her usual serene demeanor, didn't hesitate. "I am two thousand, eight hundred, and eighty-seven years of age."
Leornars merely gave a curt nod, completely unfazed by the staggering number. Without a word, he turned on his heel, walked straight toward the luxurious elven carriage, and stepped inside to make himself comfortable.
"Out, you mongrel!" one of the elven guards bellowed, his face flushing crimson with rage. "Even if you aided us, trampling over our sacred traditions is an unforgivable insult!"
Leornars poked his head out of the carriage window, a bone-chilling glint reflecting in his eyes. He drew his dagger, twirling it casually as he glared at the guard.
"Huh? Are you constipated or something?" Leornars asked, his voice dripping with pure disdain. "It's a seat. I'm sitting in it. If you've got a problem with that, come over here and try to throw me out... **Filth**."
The atmosphere instantly turned freezing cold.
Before the guard could draw his sword, the elven princess rushed forward, her expression dead serious. She grabbed the guard's arm and pulled him back, whispering in a frantic, barely audible tone.
"Listen to me! You don't stand a single fraction of a chance against him," she hissed. "Through my **Divine Eye**, I simulated ten million different outcomes of a battle between you two... and you died in every single one. He is the boy from the prophecy. The liberator of injustice. *The White Plague*."
The guard's eyes widened in sheer terror. His grip failed him, and his sword clattered uselessly onto the dirt.
"Are you guys getting in, or should I just drive ahead while you walk?" Leornars called out from the carriage, his impatience clearly showing.
Gritting his teeth, the guard reluctantly retrieved his weapon, keeping a wary distance. "That brat looks absolutely nothing like the savior in the legends," he muttered under his breath.
Inside the carriage, a stark contrast formed. Stacian and the princess engaged in polite, idle chatter, while Leornars stared blankly out the window. Bored out of his mind by the monotonous scenery, he suddenly moved.
With a soft *thud*, Leornars leaped straight through the window and landed flawlessly on the carriage roof.
Startled by the sudden noise, the escort guards instantly drew their blades, panicking.
"For a race that claims to love peace, you bunch sure are twitchy," Leornars called down, looking at them like they were circus acts.
"Says the prophesied brat!" the guard shouted back, trying to mask his fear with anger.
Leornars's expression shifted. The bored indifference vanished, replaced by an aura so dense it felt suffocating. He dropped down from the roof, landing directly in front of the mouthy guard. The elf twitched, a violent shiver running down his spine as Leornars's eyes began to glow a menacing, unnatural **crimson**.
"You know, I've been wondering..." Leornars's voice dropped to a dangerous, low whisper. "What exactly is this 'Prophecy' and 'White Plague' crap you keep murmuring about? You'd better start talking before I lose my patience."
"It's... it's just an ancient legend passed down through generations!" the guard stammered, his eyes darting around frantically for an escape. "It says a man from another world will cross over to ours to become the liberator of injustice and discrimination. He is meant to unite all demi-human species under one banner, ruling with absolute authority to free them from human slavery..."
Leornars stared at him for a long moment. Gradually, the crimson glow in his eyes faded.
"Hmm... a heroic liberator? Yeah, that doesn't sound like me at all," Leornars mused, waving his hand dismissively. "Your prophecy probably got the wrong guy. Saving people really isn't my style."
The princess, watching from the carriage door, offered a gentle, pitying smile. "You always seem so grumpy. You should cheer up, smile a little, and learn to enjoy life!"
Leornars turned his gaze toward the distant horizon, his eyes completely hollow.
> "How? My inner child is already dead."
>
The journey continued through the dense foliage until the trees finally gave way to the open wilderness. As night fell, they set up camp. True to his anti-social nature, Leornars refused to share a fire or partake in the elves' food. Instead, he sat on a lone boulder in the dark, chewing silently on his own dried meat and wild fruits.
"Those two are remarkably alike," the elf princess murmured, watching Leornars from across the campsite.
"Huh? Who?" the guard asked, tilting his head in confusion.
"Leornars and Stacian," the princess explained softly. "Both carry that same icy, unapproachable expression. Both are entirely detached from the affairs of the world, and both clearly suffer from severe trust issues."
The guard nodded slowly, watching the distant figures. "True. I thought I was the only one who noticed."
The next morning, the elven camp awoke to a bizarre sight. Leornars was already awake, meticulously polishing the dark armor of his summoned undead minion. Stacian sat quietly beside him, watching over his work like a silent guardian.
"Morning," Stacian greeted smoothly as the princess approached.
"Good morning to you too, Stacian," the princess replied warmly. She then turned her eyes to Leornars, opening her mouth to greet him as well.
"No," Leornars cut her off instantly, before a single syllable could escape her lips.
> *The only thing I feel when looking at her is utter disgust,* Leornars thought to himself, returning to his polishing. *That toxic positivity of hers is going to get her killed one day.*
>
With the camp packed up, the group set off once more.
"By the way, where exactly is your final destination?" the princess asked, trying to break the ice again.
Leornars didn't bother answering; he just glanced sideways at Stacian.
Taking the cue, Stacian replied, "The Theocracy of Lurtra."
The princess's face instantly lit up. "What a coincidence! We are headed there as well!"
Leornars's brow furrowed tightly, and he let out a heavy, exhausted sigh. "This is going to be a horribly long journey..."
"But we've already been traveling together since yesterday?" the princess pointed out, genuinely confused by his math.
"Because I fully expected you to leave by dawn," Leornars grumbled, his tone dripping with boredom.
"Oh, come on. At least pretend to be happy we're companions!" she urged with a pout.
*There isn't a single molecule of excitement in my body while you're around,* Leornars thought, staring blankly up at the clouds.
After another full day of arduous travel, the terrain shifted. Looming in the distance, just a few miles away, stood a massive stone fortress bearing the unmistakable crest of the **Theocracy of Lurtra**.
As the carriage ground to a halt at the fort's outer gates, a squad of heavily armed Lurtra guards marched out, blocking the path. The elven entourage consisted of nine royal guards, plus Leornars and Stacian.
"Get out of the carriage immediately!" one of the human guards barked arrogantly.
"WHAT?! Learn some respect! You are speaking to our Princess!" an elven guard named Lirtal roared back, stepping forward.
"Don't make a scene, Lirtal," the princess commanded calmly, stepping down from the carriage to defuse the tension.
The Lurtra guards eyed her up and down with slimy, lingering stares before shifting their gaze to the remaining occupants inside the vehicle.
"Can't you deaf bastards hear me?!" the lead guard yelled again.
"Don't raise your voice to me, you fucking mongrel," a freezing voice echoed from inside.
Leornars stepped out of the carriage, completely ignoring the guards as he began walking straight toward the fort's entrance. He paused, noticing that the lead guard wasn't looking at him, but was instead staring hungrily at Stacian as she prepared to follow.
"Let's go, Stacian," he said flatly.
"Yes, my lord," she replied.
But as she stepped down to catch up to Leornars's side, the Lurtra guard suddenly lunged forward. His hand clamped tightly onto her wing, violently yanking her backward.
"No, no, no... not so fast," the guard leered, a disgusting, twisted smirk on his face. "You're staying with me tonight, beautiful."
He never got to finish his breath.
In a fraction of a millisecond, Leornars vanished from his spot. A flash of steel severed the air, and a heavy *thud* echoed as Leornars rammed his dagger violently up to the hilt directly into the guard's throat. Blood sprayed across the pavement.
"Don't lay your filthy hands on things that belong to me," Leornars whispered into the dying man's ear. He calmly pulled his blade out and took Stacian's hand.
The remaining Lurtra guards froze in horror for a split second before drawing their weapons in a panic. "Kill him!"
Leornars didn't even look back.
"**Bellian. Awaken.**"
From the depths of Leornars's shadow, a towering figure manifested. Clad in pitch-black, miasma-infused armor, the shadow knight Bellian stepped into the light, drawing a massive greatsword. Moving with terrifying, supernatural speed, Bellian became a whirlwind of death, effortlessly tearing through the remaining human guards in a matter of seconds. Screams echoed and died just as quickly.
Without a single backward glance at the carnage, Leornars and Stacian walked casually past the bloody corpses and through the gates of the kingdom.
The elven princess stood frozen in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by severed limbs and pooling blood. She trembled violently, staring at the back of the boy who claimed to be no savior.
"No..." she whispered, her voice cracking with profound disbelief. "I completely doubt it... There's no way he's the prophesied hero."
Meanwhile, deep within the grand audience chamber of the Theocracy of Lurtra, a tense political meeting was underway. A high-ranking delegate from the neighboring Kingdom of Durmount stood before the Lurtra officials, a smug, villainous smirk playing on his lips.
"The King of Durmount has sent explicit instructions regarding your new arrivals," the delegate announced, tapping his cane against the marble floor. "You are to capture the black-haired boy immediately and throw him into your deepest dungeon."
The delegate chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"Once he is subdued, bind him and ship him directly to the Kingdom of Durmount. After all... that boy is our property."