NOVEL NEXT 12. Mistakes of the past
Two Days Later:
The cold wind whistled, rustling the leaves in the treetops. Constantine sat beside a crackling bonfire, the flickering light illuminating his tired face. His skin was pale, and deep black bags underscored his eyes. He winced as he allowed his legs to rest; the damage from his daring escape had not fully healed, even with the help of mana. He dreamed of a warm, soft bed in an inn but didn't dare risk it. The fear of pursuers gnawed at him constantly, making sleep almost impossible.
'How have I fallen this deep, again?' he wondered bitterly. He had secured a place to live, a promising future, enough money to start anew, yet now he was forced to hide in ditches, sleep in monster-infested forests, and hide like a petty criminal.
A howl pierced the night, snapping him back to reality. His eyes frantically scanned the surroundings, the shadows cast by the trees seeming deeper and darker. ‘A wolf?’ He chuckled, trying to shake off his growing dread. Leaping to his feet, he unsheathed his dagger—his bow too conspicuous to carry.
A twig cracked behind him, prompting a slow, cautious turn. He could hear snarling and growling. A beast, a wolf seemingly basked in shadows, paced among the trees. Its eyes glowed with ruby light, the shadows around it coming alive, moving and dancing.
“A Shadenwolf,” he mumbled, his eyes widening in fear. He gripped his dagger tighter. He had survived until now; he refused to die to a common monster. Grabbing a burning branch from his firepit, he waved it threateningly toward the creature. If he remembered correctly, Shadenwolves were more afraid of fire and light than their mundane brethren.
The beast snarled, its eyes locked onto the burning branch. It paced backward, circling the fire but refusing to approach. Constantine tensed, catching a shadow swirl out of the corner of his eye. He turned quickly, but there was nothing but darkness. He took a step back, retreating toward the safety of the fire.
“Clever beasts,” he muttered, recalling their powers. ‘They can blend with shadows and hide within them.’ Wolves were pack hunters, and if he saw only one, the rest must be hiding in the shadows. His eyes flickered from one corner to another. 'If there's one, there's more,' he thought, anxiety rising. His gaze darted around, but there was nothing—only the single wolf circling him.
The wolf snarled again, its teeth bared in a menacing grin. Constantine's heart raced as the shadows in the forest seemed to deepen, enveloping him in a suffocating darkness. The flickering light of the bonfire shined like a tiny bubble in the sea of darkness. His breathing grew shallow.
A low growl rumbled from behind him. Constantine spun around, waving the burning branch wildly. The shadows seemed to move with a life of their own, twisting and writhing, forming the shapes of snarling wolves. His hand trembled as he tried to keep the fire between him and the advancing shadows.
The Shadenwolf lunged, snapping its jaws just inches from his face. Constantine stumbled backward, barely maintaining his balance. He waved the burning branch, the wolf snarling as the burning embers landed on its shadowy form. It retreated, seemingly melting into shadows before emerging further away.
‘This is a true monster,’ Constantine thought, crawling closer to the protective fire, feeling the scorching heat on his back. He glanced at the burning wood, knowing that if the fuel didn’t last, he would die.
The Next Day:
Constantine trekked down the seemingly endless road. Every step was a painful ordeal; his feet ached, his muscles strained, and his throat was parched. The shadows of the trees offered scant solace from the relentless sun, but he pushed forward, each step driven by the fear of pursuers possibly closing in on him.
Suddenly, he tensed. The distant rumble of wheels reached his ears, coming from around the bend in the road. Without wasting a moment, he leapt off the road, diving into a dusty ditch. He stilled his breath, heart pounding with fear.
The rumbling grew louder, the sound of hooves and creaking wood approaching rapidly. As he lay there, his thoughts spiraled back to the same tormenting question that haunted him since his escape. 'Lying and hiding in a ditch like a criminal, how could I end up like this?'
The carriage passed, its tremors shaking the ground beneath him. He pressed his body flat against the earth, barely daring to peek over the edge of the ditch. The back of the carriage receded into the distance, leaving clouds of dust in its wake. Yet, Constantine remained motionless, his body exhausted and his mind adrift in a sea of regrets.
He waited a few more moments, listening to the sound of the carriage disappearing. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes following the dust trail left behind. 'Got a bit of power and money, and I thought I was better than everyone around me,' he reflected bitterly, shaking his head.
Constantine pushed himself up, wincing as pain shot through his legs. He wiped the sweat and dirt from his face, his hand trembling slightly. He sighed, remembering how he had acted, considering everyone around him as inferior, dumb, and barbaric. That arrogance had made him careless, leading to his swift downfall.
He stepped back onto the road, his movements slow, his mind still contemplating his mistakes. 'If I had exercised better control, I might have had ample opportunities to escape instead of beating those two brats in such a conspicuous manner,' he thought, clenching his jaw.
He walked on, the sun beat down mercilessly, but he kept moving. 'If I hadn't considered everyone stupid, I might have realized someone was watching and could have opted to lie low for a few months,' he mused, frustration bubbling up.
‘I thought of myself as smart, yet, a bunch of orphans and that thug of a director saw straight through me.’ He reminisced about his first mistake in the endless chain of failures.
Constantine's face flushed with shame. He had prided himself on being an academic, someone of intellect, yet he had behaved like an arrogant, spoiled brat the moment luck favored him. He kicked a loose stone on the path, watching it skitter away.
Flinching in pain as he adjusted his stride, Constantine tried to distract himself by focusing on the scenery. The road stretched out before him, flanked by trees and occasional glimpses of wildlife. He took a deep breath, the air dry and harsh in his throat. 'I wanted to be something greater, yet I've fallen into the same trap of superiority and arrogance as the cultivators I despised.'
He clenched his fists as he walked, determination burning in his eyes. 'I made mistakes, but I survived. I must learn from them and never repeat them.'
Four Days Later:
Water bubbled in the small river, cooling the air baked by the burning sun. Constantine, clad in a plain gray robe with his face shadowed by a straw hat, marched down the road snaking along the riverside. His gaze was fixed on the small cottages in the distance, smoke gently rising from their chimneys into the sky.
A week had passed since he was forced to escape. Frustration and anger had gradually given way to the sheer relief of being free and alive. He found himself savoring the sun’s warmth.
Drawing nearer, he observed villagers in simple linen clothes. Children ran around while adults toiled in the fields along the river valley. A smile crept onto his face. This place felt tranquil, a stark contrast to life in the city. The village, small, remote, and peaceful, was exactly what he sought. He was exhausted from trekking down the unmaintained roads for a week, his feet sore and legs aching.
'Could I settle here, at least for a while? The village is far from the city, and in the middle of nowhere,' he pondered, feeling the curious gazes of the villagers upon him. A small throng of giggling children followed him. He needed an inconspicuous place to settle down and immerse himself in the study of arcane arts.
As the curious gazes of the peasants followed him, he steeled his expression, donning a mask of polite neutrality. The world was cruel, and showing one’s weakness never boded well for anyone.
Reaching the first relatively simple houses, built of bamboo, he noticed a man approaching. His face was covered in scars from a plague. A small crowd gathered around, all eyes on the commotion—the locals likely unused to visitors. Nervously gulping, Constantine straightened his back, his expression cold.
The scarred man closed in, looking down at him from above. "Huh, what do ya want, kid? Ya lost or somethin'?"
Constantine sighed, hating the man’s disdainful tone. He didn’t look threatening, nor had Constantine done anything to provoke him.
'A dumb pea—' he broke his thought, not willing to act like that anymore. Instead, he rationally assessed the man. 'A village thug perhaps? Or maybe just a cautious man wary of the weird stranger dressed in a robe.'
"Uncle," Constantine said, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest, "I wish to rent a shed, a remote one. I just need a roof over my head and walls to shelter me from the wind. I'll pay you a fair price." Not giving the man a chance to reply, he took out a recommendation letter, raising it higher for the man to see. "I was sent here by my master, a senior scholar from Sunray City, to observe the local forest. He requires me to compile a report over the next year. I trust you won't obstruct my business."
The man’s eyes darted around, his eyelids squinting, then he took a step back. "I can’t read it."
Constantine struggled to keep a smile from warping his lips. He hoped his play of authority had worked. He, looking as scrawny and light as he was, would be an easy target to be scammed, robbed, or worse—he needed something to keep potential troublemakers in line.
Folding his hands behind his back, Constantine stood silently, his expression motionless yet polite. "Uncle, then bring me to your village head," he said, trying to maintain his image of authority while being polite.
Later the Same Day:
Constantine stood before a small house built of bamboo and stone. It was plain, cramped, and seemingly dilapidated. Yet, his heart skipped a beat; it was the first place he could call his own. He smiled as he looked around, taking in the tranquil scenery of endless green pastures and forests on the horizon. Only a couple of houses in the distance broke the breathtaking view. He inhaled deeply, the air feeling fresh and invigorating compared to the slums of the city.
He walked forward and pushed the door open. A single cramped room welcomed him. Dust covered the floor, and cobwebs lined the ceiling. The floor creaked beneath his feet as he ventured inside.
“It will work,” he muttered, knowing that he was entering a new chapter of his life, far away from the city and his old life.
Constantine sat cross-legged on the floor and shut his eyes, feeling a warm, bubbly sensation burning inside his stomach. The silence of the surrounding nature calmed his mind.
'Yes, this might be what I need.' Maybe now, in the silence, outside the city, without the constant chores given to him by his teacher and the pursuit of mundane studies, he could finally fully immerse himself in his arcane arts.