NOVEL NEXT Chapter 10: Whispers in the Cart
Rikuya settled into his seat as the cart lurched forward, the wooden wheels groaning against the uneven dirt path. The slow, rhythmic sway of the ride gave him time to observe his surroundings.
Aside from Lindor, who remained focused on steering, there were three other passengers in the cart with him.
To his left sat a burly man with tanned skin and a thick beard, his arms crossed as he leaned against the side of the cart.
His clothes were practical—rough wool and leather, the kind a traveling laborer or mercenary might wear.
Across from him, an older woman with sharp eyes and a thin frame adjusted a woven shawl over her shoulders, while beside her, a young man in a faded green tunic played absently with a small wooden charm around his neck.
It didn't take long before the bearded man spoke up, his gruff voice cutting through the quiet hum of the journey.
"You don't look like you're from around here, stranger." His eyes lingered on Rikuya's black cloak before shifting to his boots. "Fancy gear for someone hitching a ride in a common cart."
Rikuya tilted his head slightly, smirking. "What gave it away? The boots or the fact that I clearly don't know what I'm doing?"
The man chuckled, shaking his head. "Bit of both." He leaned forward slightly. "Name's Garren. Used to be a caravan guard before the roads turned to shit."
Rikuya raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous work?"
"Used to be," Garren muttered. "But lately? It's worse than ever. Bandits were one thing, but people have been disappearing. And not just merchants or travelers—locals, too."
The young man in the green tunic looked up from his charm, his voice softer but edged. "You mean the ones near Greystone?"
Garren nodded. "Aye. Near Greystone Woods. No one really knows why, but the ones who go missing don't come back."
The older woman scoffed, adjusting her shawl. "Because they're dead, that's why. Torn apart by whatever's lurking in those cursed woods."
Rikuya narrowed his eyes slightly. "So, what do people think is causing it? Beasts? Magic?"
The woman's lips thinned. "Depends on who you ask. Some say it's monsters, others whisper about the old ruins in the forest—places where magic lingers long after it should've faded." She eyed Rikuya as if assessing whether he was the type to believe in such things. "But there are darker rumors, too."
The young man hesitated before speaking. "Some say it's not just beasts or curses." He swallowed. "Some say a noble's involved."
Rikuya's curiosity piqued. He leaned forward slightly. "A noble?"
Garren exhaled sharply. "There's talk that someone powerful is behind the disappearances. Maybe using people for magic research, or worse."
The older woman scoffed. "Bah. And what proof is there? Nobles don't need to kidnap common folk. They have all the power they need."
The young man frowned. "Unless they need something specific. The missing people—most of them weren't just random travelers. A lot of them were… healthy, strong. Rumors say some even had double mana rings."
Mana rings are circular flows of concentrated mana around the heart, enhancing magical abilities.
They determine a person's mana capacity, spellcasting efficiency, magic power, and resistance to magic attacks.
More rings mean greater reserves, better control, and higher combat potential.
Most people are born with one ring, but prodigies or special bloodlines may have more. Although more can be obtained from leveling up, the current known highest number of mana rings is four, possessed by the Saint of the Holy Empire.
Those with multiple rings are often sought after by elite organizations—or exploited for their power.
The fact that some missing individuals had double mana rings suggests this is a deliberate attempt to target powerful individuals, possibly for research, enslavement, or forbidden rituals.
Rikuya exchanged a glance with the hovering power icon that was G.U.A.R.D.I.A.N. in his vision.
A noble possibly abducting people with magical potential? That didn't sound like mere coincidence.
"Well, whatever the case," Garren muttered, stretching his arms, "we'd best hope we don't end up as the next ones to vanish."
Rikuya leaned back against the wooden frame, his fingers drumming idly against his belt.
A noble behind the disappearances, huh?
As the conversation in the cart faded, Rikuya sighed.
'Hey, G.U.A.R.D.I.A.N.,'
'Mind explaining why you suggested I go to a place where people keep disappearing? I'd rather not end up as some noble's test subject.'
There was a brief pause before the system's voice echoed in his head.
『Based on analyzed source data, the rate and time intervals of these occurrences indicate a discernible pattern. Using predictive modeling, there is a 59% probability of safe passage to the town at this time.』
Rikuya raised an eyebrow. 'So, you're saying it's not completely safe, just... mostly safe?'
『Affirmative.』
'Great. I just love those odds. What an amazing assistant you turned out to be,' he thought, a vein throbbing at the side of his forehead.
『Thank you.』
Rikuya gritted his teeth. 'I was being sarcastic, you hack.'
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The Royal Port of Aradorn
The royal port of Aradorn was a vast, elevated structure built atop the capital's eastern cliffs, overlooking the shimmering expanse of the beautiful Azure Sea.
The platforms were reinforced with dark steel and smooth white stone, engraved with glowing blue durability enhancement runes.
Towering spires lined the edges, each with flags bearing the crimson griffon of Aradorn on a navy-blue field.
The air was filled with the scent of salt and the faint sounds of magical engines from the airships docked nearby.
Above, a vessel descended.
An elven airship, it had a pale-whitewood hull traced with silver mana rune veins that shimmered in the sunlight.
With silent ease, the ship touched down on the landing platform.
The ramp extended smoothly, and from within, a squad of elven warriors emerged.
They moved out, their silver and green armor glinting in the afternoon light.
Each warrior carried an elegantly curved longbow on their back and a slender saber at their side. They stepped into formation, flanking the pathway perfectly.
Standing at the forefront of the welcoming delegation was a man of stature.
He had dark auburn hair, neatly combed back, and sharp golden eyes. His uniform was deep blue, with gold embroidery, a crimson sash draped across his chest. A silver griffon-shaped brooch rested at his collar, and on his left shoulder gleamed a golden badge—the insignia of the Grand Marshal of Aradorn's military.
He stood motionless as the last of the elven warriors took their positions.
Then, the figure they had all been waiting for appeared.
Rakuga, the historical-type hero of Hav'Alo, an eleven Kingdom, strode down the ramp gracefully.
His long silver hair was streaked with faint traces of gold. His emerald-green eyes were cold, carrying centuries of experience.
He wore a cloak of deep forest green, embroidered with golden elven runes, its edges slightly worn from years of battle.
Beneath it, his armor was green, etched with silver filigree and faintly glowing glyphs. A slender but deadly sword hung from his belt, its hilt wrapped in moonlight silk.
A historical-class battle arm—Ex'Avir.
The Grand Marshal took a single step forward.
"Welcome to Aradorn, Hero Rakuga," he said. "I am Grand Marshal Darius Taranius. By royal decree, I have been assigned to oversee the training of our summoned heroes alongside you."
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[A/N: From today, I'll be adding little messages beneath my chapters like this, for fun remarks and some novel facts.]
Today's fact: There are four hero types—Dimensional Crosser Heroes, Historical Heroes, Conceptual Heroes, and Contracted Heroes.
The ones who always start out as the strongest are Conceptual Heroes.
Conceptual Heroes are spirits born of strong hopes and dreams accumulated for centuries.