However, he had no interest in troubles that had nothing to do with him, nor did he want to get involved with anyone in this chaotic mess.

  “Let’s go. We shouldn’t stay here too long.” Raizen turned away, his hand just about to rest on the shoulder of one of the thugs when—

  From the far end of the port entrance, the hurried, frantic sound of footsteps echoed. A small figure burst out from the alley above the harbor, running as if her very life depended on it.

  It was Meredith. She nearly stumbled down the dock, her tangled red-orange hair flying behind her, breath ragged, face pale from the sheer speed at which she had been running. Her dress was covered in dust and stained with water, likely because she had rushed out of the inn without a single thought for anything other than getting here.

  Raizen wasn’t surprised to see Meredith appear. The name she was about to call had surely been lingering on her lips from the moment that ship came into her weary sight.

  And just as he predicted, Meredith almost crashed into the group of adventurers, her panicked eyes desperately searching each exhausted face before she grabbed one of them by the arm.

  “Where’s Arcadith?!”

  The question sliced through the air like a blade cutting across the surface of a still ocean. The woman Meredith clung to froze momentarily. Her mouth opened, lips trembling as if to form words, but no coherent response came out.

  Silence stretched on. None of the returning adventurers answered the desperate girl before them. Meredith glanced at each of them, confusion gradually giving way to sheer dread in her crimson eyes.

  At the mention of Arcadith’s name, a few of them looked away. One of them clenched the bandages wrapped around his arm, as if it had suddenly become the most important thing in the world. Another lowered his head, staring at his seawater-soaked boots, biting his lip so hard it seemed he might draw blood.

  Raizen didn’t need them to say it. He already knew the answer. And clearly, Meredith did too.

  Her breathing turned shallow and erratic. She shook her head, fingers tightening around the fabric of the man’s sleeve.

  “No… That’s impossible.” Her voice was hoarse, as if something had lodged in her throat. “You must be mistaken. He’s strong! There’s no way—”

  The adventurer she clung to swallowed dryly. He didn’t meet her eyes, only shook his head slightly. His lips moved, forming a silent, barely whispered “I’m sorry,” yet it was enough to drain every last bit of strength from the girl’s fingers.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Meredith let go. Her eyes widened, hollow and empty. Her lips trembled, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Then suddenly, she turned and bolted toward the ship.

  “Meredith.” Raizen’s voice was cold. He didn’t raise it, but it wasn’t a call—it was an order.

  She didn’t stop. She either didn’t hear him or didn’t want to. She kept running, weaving through the murmuring crowd, heading straight toward the stacks of wooden crates piled along the dock.

  Raizen narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t planned to interfere. But the way those adventurers remained silent irritated him. That wasn’t the silence of those unwilling to speak. It was the silence of those too afraid to. And that was always the kind of silence that made everything worse.

  As she neared the ship, Meredith was stopped by a Black Orc woman—her body gaunt and worn, dark skin littered with scars.

  “There’s nothing left here.”

  The orc woman held onto her own severed right arm, glancing at Meredith with an unreadable expression before jerking her chin toward the pile of corpses on the dock.

  “Go find him.”

  “If you’re lucky, his body might still be intact.”

  Meredith froze. No one pulled her back. No one tried to stop her. No one even offered her pity. They just stood there, silent, avoiding her gaze as if afraid that if they looked too long, they’d be swallowed by her despair.

  “No… No way.” Meredith swallowed dryly, forcing herself to breathe.

  “Arcadith… He can’t be in that pile.” Her steps faltered, her legs nearly giving out beneath her.

  The stench of death hit her the moment she got close—a foul mix of salt, dried blood, and something so rotten it had seeped into the air itself. She nearly gagged, instinctively clamping a hand over her mouth to suppress the nausea.

  But she didn’t stop. Step by step, she knelt down, peeling back the cloth that covered the mangled corpses.

  The first face. Not Arcadith. A middle-aged man, eyes wide open in horror, mouth frozen mid-scream.

  The second. A woman. Her face was so disfigured it was barely recognizable, one half torn apart by something that was no human weapon.

  The third. Not him. The fourth. Not him.

  “Not him. Not him. Not him!”

  Meredith’s fingers dug into her palms, nails piercing her skin until blood trickled from her clenched fists, yet she didn’t even feel the pain. She kept searching. Kept looking. Kept sinking into despair.

  But… he wasn’t here. Arcadith wasn’t here.

  Under the burning crimson sunset, beneath the buzzing of flies over decaying flesh, she stopped. She knelt amidst the corpses, staring blankly into nothingness.

  She should feel relieved, right? If he wasn’t here, it meant he was still alive. If Arcadith wasn’t among the dead, it meant there was still hope.

  But… why… Why was the only thing she could feel an overwhelming, bottomless dread?

  Because nobody didn’t mean he was alive.

  There were things worse than death.

  And she had seen the fear in the eyes of those who survived.

  Meredith didn’t know how long she had been kneeling there, only that when she finally looked up, her eyes had turned completely empty.

  “What’s your name?”

  The deep, gravelly voice of the ship’s captain cut through the haze, pulling Meredith back from the edge of her formless terror.