Chapter 2: Ashfall
Lyra spent the next morning preparing.
Which mostly meant sharpening equipment she could barely afford to replace.
Her sword wasn't exceptional.
Her armor had been repaired so many times that parts of it no longer matched.
Her boots were worn.
Her backpack carried years of patches and stitching.
Nothing about her appearance suggested that one of the strongest humans alive had personally requested a meeting.
Yet the contract remained real.
Marshall.
The name still felt absurd.
Several times she checked the document while walking.
Each time, the answer remained the same.
The Gravity Paragon wanted to meet her.
Why remained a mystery.
The road toward Velkaris left the city through massive reinforced gates.
Unlike most trade routes, this road became quieter the further one traveled.
Less traffic.
Fewer merchants.
Fewer travelers.
Even the landscape seemed different.
The forests grew denser.
The air became colder.
The sky somehow darker.
Lyra wasn't imagining it.
The closer one approached Velkaris, the more noticeable the mana became.
Not stronger.
Wrong.
She had heard veteran adventurers describe it before.
Velkaris mana felt like a wound that never healed.
Human mana and demonic mana had mixed there for ten thousand years.
The result was unstable.
Corrupted.
Unnatural.
Many adventurers claimed they could feel it watching them.
Lyra had always dismissed those stories.
Until now.
Because after several hours of travel, she understood exactly what they meant.
The forest felt aware.
Not alive.
Not conscious.
But aware.
Like a battlefield that remembered every death that occurred upon it.
The sensation made her uncomfortable.
She kept walking.
By afternoon, she reached Ashfall.
The frontier town sat at the edge of the Dark Forest of Velkaris.
Calling it a town was almost misleading.
Ashfall existed for a single purpose.
Velkaris.
Everything revolved around it.
Monster hunting.
Ruin exploration.
Artifact recovery.
Mercenary work.
Trade.
Fortune seekers.
Scholars.
Adventurers.
Every road eventually led toward the forest.
And every building profited from the people foolish enough to enter it.
Blacksmiths occupied entire streets.
Alchemy shops advertised antidotes and emergency potions.
Monster material traders displayed trophies from successful hunts.
Repair workshops never seemed empty.
The smell of metal, mana crystals, and monster blood lingered everywhere.
Ashfall wasn't beautiful.
But it was alive.
More alive than many cities Lyra had visited.
The entire settlement felt built upon equal parts greed and courage.
Then she noticed the largest building in town.
It stood above everything around it.
Three stories tall.
Constructed from polished black wood and crimson stone.
Elegant balconies overlooked the main road.
Crimson lanterns glowed beneath ornate awnings.
Dozens of adventurers entered and exited constantly.
Some carried weapons.
Others carried treasure.
Many carried both.
A sign hung above the entrance.
The Crimson Lotus.
Lyra immediately recognized the name.
Every adventurer in Elyrion knew it.
Part inn.
Part tavern.
Part brothel.
Part social hub.
Rumors claimed wealthy nobles secretly visited.
Other rumors claimed powerful adventurers used it as neutral territory.
The wildest rumors claimed its owner was strong enough that nobody dared cause trouble inside.
Lyra assumed most of those stories were exaggerated.
Probably.
Still, if she needed information, there was no better place to start.
The interior exceeded expectations.
Music drifted through the air.
Rich crimson decorations covered the walls.
Customers occupied nearly every table.
Adventurers laughed loudly.
Merchants negotiated deals.
Guards drank beside treasure hunters.
The entire building felt energetic.
Alive.
A receptionist quickly arranged a room for Lyra.
Afterward she settled into the tavern section and quietly listened.
Information flowed freely when alcohol was involved.
Most conversations revolved around Velkaris.
"...lost three people yesterday."
"...found a ruin beneath the eastern ridge..."
"...mana storm destroyed half our supplies..."
"...heard screaming all night..."
The stories blended together.
Then someone mentioned Marshall.
Immediately the atmosphere shifted.
Conversations slowed.
Attention shifted.
Respect appeared.
A scarred adventurer raised his mug.
"To the Guardian."
The surrounding tables immediately echoed him.
"To the Guardian!"
Lyra watched quietly.
A younger adventurer nearby frowned.
"Have any of you actually seen him fight?"
The question captured the room's attention.
An older woman sitting near the bar laughed.
"Once."
The tavern became noticeably quieter.
"What happened?" the younger adventurer asked.
The woman stared into her drink for several moments.
Then answered.
"A Level 55 monster came out of the inner forest."
Several adventurers immediately stiffened.
Level 55.
A creature capable of destroying Ashfall by itself.
"We thought we were dead."
The woman took a drink.
"Twenty adventurers killed."
"More wounded."
"We were preparing to evacuate the town."
The room remained silent.
Then she continued.
"Marshall arrived."
Someone leaned forward.
"What spell did he use?"
The woman laughed.
A short disbelieving laugh.
"Spell?"
She shook her head.
"He pointed."
Several people frowned.
The woman wasn't smiling anymore.
"He pointed."
"And the monster collapsed."
Silence filled the tavern.
The younger adventurer blinked.
"That's it?"
"No."
The woman's voice became quieter.
"That was the frightening part."
She looked toward the distant forest visible through the window.
"I've seen powerful people."
"Level 30."
"Level 40."
"Even Level 50."
She slowly shook her head.
"Marshall didn't feel powerful."
The tavern remained silent.
"He felt inevitable."
No one laughed.
No one argued.
Several people simply nodded.
Because they understood.
The strongest humans weren't frightening because they were powerful.
They were frightening because the outcome felt predetermined.
Another adventurer chuckled.
"Marshall protects Ashfall."
A second voice replied from somewhere near the bar.
"And Morgana protects the Crimson Lotus."
Several people laughed.
One young adventurer looked confused.
"Who's Morgana?"
The laughter stopped.
The entire table stared at him.
The young man suddenly looked nervous.
An older mercenary finally answered.
"The owner."
"Level?"
The mercenary shrugged.
"No idea."
Nobody seemed eager to speculate.
Which only made Lyra more curious.
"I've never seen her fight," someone admitted.
Another snorted.
"Neither has anyone else."
"Why not?"
The man grinned.
"Because the idiots who start trouble don't remain conscious long enough to describe it."
Laughter spread throughout the room.
Yet something about it felt genuine.
The sort of joke people made when they weren't entirely joking.
Lyra made a mental note.
Morgana.
A name everyone respected.
Interesting.
That night, Lyra retired to her room.
Sleep proved difficult.
The Dark Forest of Velkaris remained visible through her window.
Dark.
Silent.
Endless.
Occasionally she thought she saw lights moving among the distant trees.
Not lanterns.
Not torches.
Something else.
Gone whenever she focused on them.
At one point she heard distant thunder.
The sky remained clear.
A guard later informed her it wasn't thunder.
A mana storm had erupted somewhere inside Velkaris.
The explanation somehow felt worse.
Eventually exhaustion won.
The next morning, Lyra finally approached the outer edge of the forest.
The difference was immediate.
The trees were wrong.
Some twisted around themselves.
Others leaned in impossible directions.
Black roots emerged from the earth like skeletal fingers.
Fragments of ancient ruins appeared everywhere.
Broken walls.
Collapsed watchtowers.
Cracked statues.
Shattered roads consumed by roots.
History had died here.
And Velkaris had never let go.
The sensation of being watched intensified.
Not by creatures.
By the forest itself.
For the first time since receiving Marshall's invitation, genuine fear began replacing excitement.
This place was older than kingdoms.
Older than empires.
Older than memory.
And somehow it still felt alive.
Then the pressure arrived.
Not crushing.
Not hostile.
Simply enormous.
Every instinct in her body reacted immediately.
She turned.
A man stood nearby.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Simple traveling clothes.
No visible weapon.
No armor.
No display of power.
Yet the air itself seemed heavier around him.
Like gravity unconsciously bent toward his existence.
Lyra immediately knew who it was.
Marshall.
The Guardian of Velkaris.
The Gravity Paragon.
Magic Level 75.
The strongest human she had ever seen.
And somehow, despite everything she had heard—
His smile was warm.
"Lyra, I presume?"
For a moment, she forgot how to speak.
Then Marshall laughed.
Not mockingly.
Genuinely.
"Good."
He extended a hand.
"That means Garron sent the right person."
And just like that, Lyra met the man she had admired for most of her life.