Zamian willed the White Dot to show his information.

  PERSONAL INFORMATION

  Name: Zamian Greenfield

  Level: 3 [00%]

  Tier: Mortal

  Main Pathway: Creation

  Title: None

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 300/600

  Mind: 400/600

  Soul: 280/600

  Quickly reading the notifications, Zamian frowned. ‘How did I spend so much Mind and Soul Points?’

  As for his body condition, the stats seemed to capture it accurately enough.

  Not wanting to waste more time, he dismissed the texts. Before the earth wall made by Clarice could crumble, he darted toward it, mostly putting his weight on his left foot. ‘She’s probably expecting me from above,’ he thought, controlling his body to fall backward, sliding along the ground to the right of the wall and extending his left leg to kick up a cloud of dust in his wake.

  Using his right leg—despite the pain—he kicked the ground again, propelling himself in the opposite direction and rolling to the wall’s left side. Crouching, Zamian prepared to leap at the woman, hoping the sudden dust cloud had distracted her.

  ‘Where is she?!’ Failing to spot her and with his instincts ominously silent, Zamian decided against staying in one place. He rolled and jumped back, positioning himself behind a tree. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, glancing quickly around the battlefield.

  As Zamian had hidden on branches before, maybe she could have done the same!

  But above the trees, there was nothing.

  Looking at the others, he saw the two frightened Enlightened, his big-eared friend Bohlo, and the black-bearded outsider, Kurt. The outsider’s wide eyes darted frantically from side to side, his neck jerking awkwardly with each motion.

  He was looking for that woman too.

  Zamian’s eyes stopped glowing, returning to their usual dark brown color. Sweeping the hair out of his face, he started walking toward Bohlo, planning to check on him, when a sudden realization struck.

  “Oh, blighted thing!” he cursed, punching the side of a tree, causing the trunk to shake slightly.

  “Lakea!” he shouted, hoping—though he already knew otherwise—that she had escaped during the fight.

  But the answer was obvious.

  “Blighted outsider,” Zamian muttered, his expression hardening as he turned toward Kurt and Bohlo.

  “Wait! Wait—” Kurt stammered, trying to stand as Zamian approached.

  Kurt’s words were cut off by a fist to his nose.

  “Where is she?” Zamian demanded, grabbing Kurt by the upper part of his vest and yanking him forward.

  Before Kurt could answer, another punch landed—not as hard, but enough to make his already swollen nose bleed further.

  “Wai—wait! Please! You didn’t even give me a chance to talk!” Kurt begged, tears already forming as he raised his hands defensively.

  “Then talk,” Zamian said, his tone cold and clipped. “Quickly.”

  “Mistress Clarice took your friend!” Kurt blurted out, his voice shaky. “She gave us the order using a hidden code—whistles—to attack this short-haired guy here while she went for you, but…” He glanced nervously at the headless corpses. “I think… she lied.”

  Zamian clenched his jaw, frustration simmering under his skin. ‘Blighted woman. More ruthless than I thought.’

  “What’s your name, what’s hers, and what are you all doing here?” he asked, still holding Kurt firmly. ‘If he does something while this close, I can handle it,’ Zamian thought, his eyes scanning Kurt’s frightened face. ‘Not that he seems brave enough to try.’

  “Kurt—Kurt Sandblock! I’m from the Oasis—” Kurt stammered, but Zamian’s glare made him skip to the point. “Mistress Clarice is one of the Sultan’s concubines! She came to capture people—especially your friend—for political leverage. She wants to become the Sultan’s main wife!”

  Zamian frowned. “Are you all insane? Kidnapping a Chosen’s daughter? Do you want an army of Zealots and Chosen marching on your so-called Oasis? Or worse, the Verdant God’s wrath?”

  Kurt froze, his gaze darting nervously, his mouth opening as if to answer, but no sound came out.

  “Answer me,” Zamian demanded through gritted teeth.

  “Ah! There is no way for the Sanctuary to send an army, sir!” Kurt exclaimed, hurriedly switching how he addressed Zamian. “Not when they’re dealing with inner fights, a full invasion, and the absence of your God.” He slowed down toward the end, as if he feared a wrong word might earn him another bruise.

  Zamian pulled him closer, his face inches away. “What in that blighted Verdant God’s name are you talking about, vermin?” he shouted, his heart pounding. His instincts whispered to him, urging him to believe Kurt’s words.

  “It’s true, sir!” Kurt stammered. “Two days ago, an army from the Oasis invaded the Sanctuary! My brother—that foul-mouthed brute—and I came here as part of Mistress Clarice’s followers. After the usual… tasks… we discovered a couple of Chosen’s children were here, and, well, you know the rest of the story.”

  Zamian’s mind raced as he recalled the conversation he overheard while hiding when Clarice mentioned Lakea’s mother was one of the missing Chosen.

  “You will explain everything to me,” Zamian commanded. Then, turning his gaze behind him, he addressed the two Enlightened women, who were inching away, flinching. “And you two, untie this dumb oak here,” he said, gesturing toward Bohlo. “If you try anything, well,” he shrugged, nodding toward the headless corpses. His focus then shifted back to Kurt.

  The two Enlightened rushed to Bohlo, fumbling to untie and ungag him.

  “Of course, sir! I’ll explain,” Kurt smiled nervously, his lips trembling. “As a valued advisor in the Sultan’s army—”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “You’re lying,” Zamian said flatly, cocking an eyebrow, curiosity mingling with his annoyance. His instincts whispered angrily, confirming the lie.

  “Uh…I know I might not look like one, but I’m a high-level advisor—” Kurt tried again, but Zamian interrupted.

  “You. Are. Lying. If you value your life, speak the truth,” Zamian growled.

  “Of course, of course! I’m, maybe, a middle-level—”

  “Lying.”

  “Low-level—”

  “Are you testing me?” Zamian’s voice turned sharp, his frustration evident.

  Finally, Kurt blurted in exasperation, “Okay! Okay! As one of the guards who patrolled the Sultan’s castle, I heard some rumors, which led me to convince my brother to bring me along for this invasion.” He shook his head, his tone bitter. “I curse the day I made that decision.”

  Zamian heard Kurt and glanced at Bohlo and the two women now sitting by his friend’s side.

  “What rumors? And be quick. Don’t stall for time, and if you lie, I’ll just blow your head and find someone else to talk to,” he said, his patience thinning. Tired of dealing with such a coward, he made his point clear.

  Kurt, nervously moving his tongue inside his mouth, smacked his lips and began his story.

  “Sir, there were rumors about the Verdant God’s presence growing faint for a while, then disappearing completely a few days ago. Some of the Oasis’s spies and turncoats from the Sanctuary met here, found an excuse to entrap the Chosen, while the rest of our warriors plundered your fields for food and cultivator resources—armors, weapons, scriptures, anything they could take,” Kurt spoke swiftly, his focus seemingly on recalling details he deemed important.

  Zamian surprised himself by consciously controlling his heartbeat and breathing, keeping his temper in check.

  Meanwhile, a single string of thoughts passed through his mind, ‘What!? What!? What!?’

  Releasing Kurt’s shirt, he walked over to Bohlo. “You seem okay, sleephead,” he muttered, clicking his tongue. His cold gaze shifted to the two women, who now hugged their knees, their bodies covered in bruises and scars.

  Kurt wisely stayed on the ground, sighing in relief as Zamian’s attention moved away from him.

  “I suppose Lakea did that to you both,” Zamian said, pointing at their battered bodies. “You were part of the traitors, weren’t you? Explain what happened, and be quick about it.”

  The blonde woman hugged her knees tighter, trembling, while the brunette began to speak hurriedly. “Young Lord, she was the one who attacked us first—”

  Before she could finish, Zamian grabbed her throat, cutting off her words.

  Squeezing her neck tighter, he didn’t look at the brunette struggling in his grip but instead fixed his cold gaze on the wide-eyed blonde. “If you talk fast enough, she might live,” he said calmly as the brunette clawed at his hand, her futile attempts to scratch his skin with the Everbark technique doing nothing.

  Alarmed and knowing she would be next, the blonde spoke quickly. “The Lord Chosen sent us! We were raised by a couple who secretly served him before he became the Lord Chosen. For years, we’ve been tasked with following Lakea,” she bit her lip nervously. “Four days ago, we were told to never leave her side because the time to act was near. When the outsiders appeared, the three Zealots also sent by the Lord Chosen sent a signal throughout the garden to seize her… but she wasn’t exactly fond of the idea.”

  “Yeah, I bet. But how did you hear them?” Zamian’s brow furrowed as he remembered the earlier soundproofed walls. “I mean, didn’t the soundproof vines hinder your communication?”

  “There was no such thing,” she said, her eyes darting nervously to her companion, who was turning purple, her feet kicking against the ground in desperation.

  Throwing the brunette to the floor, Zamian furrowed his brow deeper. ‘So father only enclosed my space with soundproofed vines? Why? What was he planning?’ he wondered.

  “Great Sir! The only place with a barrier of some kind was at the origin of the vortex, where the horrendous monster who attacked both you and I came from!” Kurt stood up, a sleazy smile on his bruised face, which, combined with his swollen nose, made him look almost comically absurd.

  Ignoring Kurt, Zamian crouched to lift Bohlo. He realized he could easily carry his friend with one hand but chose to place him over his right shoulder, securing him with his arm.

  “Let’s head to Yokki’s abode,” he ordered, his tone firm. “As I understand it, the Sanctuary has been under invasion for two days now. My father fell into a trap, and his situation ranged from bad to worse. An army of outsiders could be killing and hurting everyone I care about, besides this guy here, all while searching for me. Is that about right?”

  Kurt avoided answering, as did the two Enlightened women.

  Smirking, Zamian muttered under his breath, “And the quest you gave me was only about saving Bohlo and Lakea, you blighted thing? What is this, going easy on me, White Dot?”

  Willing the White Dot to display his last quest, he quickly read it.

  Side Quest: Save Bohlo and Lakea

  Reward: 01 Book from White Tower's First Floor

  Status: Ongoing (less than 1 hour left)

  Shaking his head, Zamian dismissed the text and began walking toward Yokki’s house.

  “Uh, Sir, wouldn’t it be better to find a safer place? Mistress Clarice already knows about that one, and, uh, there’s a monster inside,” Kurt said hurriedly, keeping pace just behind Zamian and nervously rubbing his hands.

  “That woman would avoid it because of the threat of the monster, wouldn’t she?” Zamian shot back without missing a step.

  As they walked, the blonde Enlightened helped her friend to her feet. They chose to follow Zamian’s orders, though the brunette kept coughing, her gaze flicking nervously between Zamian’s back and the path behind them.

  “Uh, yes, but—uh, I know how powerful Sir is, and you can clearly w—” Kurt abruptly changed his words mid-sentence, clearly recalling Zamian’s ability to detect lies. “—fight against the monster, but your friend doesn’t look to be in good shape for such an adventure.”

  Zamian laughed in exasperation, glancing at Kurt. “You have a punchable face, you know that?”

  Kurt simply smiled, but before he could respond, Zamian added, “Don’t worry, I’m the monster you saw. Oh, and should I call you Zealot, or do you have some other fancy title?”

  Kurt chuckled nervously. “I see Sir has a sense of humor. Yes, yes. Some call us Zealots, others call us Great Warriors. But mostly, we just go by our names or professions.” He scratched his beard awkwardly. “Of course, Sir can call me whatever you like.”

  Zamian shook his head. “I’m not joking. One wall, numerous spheres, then two more walls hit me. And before those last ones, that other cultivator saved you from being grabbed by me by shooting a sphere at you, if I remember correctly.”

  Kurt smacked his lips, nervously laughing as his thoughts raced.

  “Bring those corpses, you two. I want to see what they brought with them,” Zamian commanded to the women at the back.

  The blonde Enlightened made a disgusted face but grabbed one of the corpses by the legs and started dragging him. Meanwhile, the brunette, noticing Zamian’s distance, bolted away, fleeing into the woods.

  Zamian’s instincts flared. He kicked a root with his left foot, snapping off a large splinter, and hurled it at the fleeing woman.

  With a booming noise, the splinter destroyed part of a bush far away from the running traitor.

  “...”

  As Zamian prepared to give chase, he felt a spike of essence beside him. Bracing for an attack, he was surprised to see two balls of dirt fly past him, smashing into the woman’s back with a loud crunch.

  Wiping his sweat, Kurt smiled at Zamian. “You don’t need to bother, Sir. I can take care of these lowly cultivators.”

  Walking over, Kurt grabbed two of his fallen comrades’ bodies, dragging them through the dirt. He whistled at the blonde Enlightened. “Come on, pretty thing, go check on your friend and come back to us.”

  Shooting him a glare, she snapped, “My name is Tulip!”

  Tulip dropped the body she was carrying and walked toward her friend.

  “You know you already killed her friend, right?” Zamian asked, watching Kurt with a curious expression.

  “Of course, Sir,” the outsider replied with a sly grin. “If little Tulip tries to run, I can just kill her too.” He winked.

  As Zamian and Kurt observed Tulip, they both flinched when she used the Everbark technique on her left hand and punched her friend—once, twice, three times—stopping only when a loud crack echoed through the air.

  Returning, she grabbed the body’s legs again and shot Kurt a hard look before turning to Zamian.

  “I checked on her,” Tulip said, her voice weary. “Anything else?”

  Kurt whistled. “Well, well, well. What else could we expect from a traitor, right?”

  “Let’s go,” Zamian ordered, heading toward the entrance of Yokki’s abode. “I still have questions for both of you.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Kurt nodded, hauling two bodies as he followed Zamian. Tulip trailed behind, dragging the last corpse.

  In silence, the three of them walked, their heads heavy with hidden thoughts, toward a place none of them had good memories of.

  Bohlo, still groggy, woke up and realized he was being carried by Zamian. Barely registering his surroundings, he didn’t cry out in surprise at seeing Zamian safe or at being effortlessly lifted.

  Instead, in a confused, sleepy voice, he asked, “Why are you naked, Z?”