"I told you, imbeciles, to just let me go."

"..."

"My head hurts, fucking hell… everything… everything looks so slow."

A whirring whistle whispered in the air. The clouds of dust and any puddle around Vayne's misty silhouette, rippling away like an endless barrage of raindrops were falling on them.

"You… you're a Blessing Holder!?"

"What? What was that? Can you speak faster? Oh… oh wow, this is weird."

"..." The voice that was coming out of Vayne sounded weird; almost as if his voice was multiplied but at the same time muffled. It sounded… ethereal.

The thugs then watched as Vayne's hand was suddenly raised. And then almost instantly, it looked as if he was looking at them one by one— it was hard to discern what it was he was truly doing.

"You guys… should run," Vayne then muttered, "I… can't control this well."

Everything looked slow. Vayne could see the specks of dust in the air floating ever so slowly as he breathe through them; the ripple beneath his feet, he could see every wave almost as if it was a small lake.

"..." Vayne then tried stepping forward, only for a visceral nausea to climb through his head; he felt himself blacking out— and he probably did for a blink as he found himself suddenly standing in front of one of the thugs.

"..." Vayne looked up, only to see the thug very slowly turning his head down to look at him.

This was his chance to leave, Vayne thought as he placed his dirty hand on the man's clothes, hoping to wipe the piss and mud that was on them.

"!!!"

As he did so, however, he saw the clouds of dust on the thug's shirt also rippling away; his feet, slowly leaving the ground

"What the fuck!?"

This time, the thugs saw what happened— Vayne disappeared from his spot, only to appear in front of one of their friends; and not even a second after he did so, their friend was flung away like a ragdoll as he hit the alley's wall.

"Fuck… Run! He's a Blessing Holder!"

"Run!"

And so, without even thinking any further or even checking if their two companions were alright, they all just scampered away.

As for Vayne, the mist that was veiling his entire body still remained.

"..."

"..."

And soon, this blur turned into a streak as it moved through the alley— crashing and bouncing from the walls several times.

Calm down, calm down— Vayne repeatedly whispered in his mind. However, each time he imagined his legs being twisted and maimed when he was a baby, the rage that was building up inside him continued to spread.

Why? Why do something like this to— No.

Vayne shook his head to try and remove the thoughts. But alas, as he did so, the dizziness he felt just became worse

Calm down, calm down.

Vayne might have found a way to trigger his blessing. It was a literal trigger— extreme emotions.

First, it happened when the clay mug since he was feeling angry.

The second was when he tried to run towards the cabinet— extreme exhilaration.

And then, the chief's house— he told him to leave, and Vayne felt extremely shamed in having to intrude.

But if that was the case, then why were his 69 attempts to activate his Blessing result in failure? He was feeling emotions then for sure.

"..."

No, who was he kidding— he was just desperate.

If emotions were the trigger, then he should be doing what he had always been trying to do—

—calm himself down. Think nothing, think nothing.

Just… calm breaths.

"..."

"..."

A second passed.

And another.

And another.

And very soon, the mist surrounding Vayne's silhouette slowly disappeared as Vayne found himself clasping on the wall.

"Well, that was—"

And before he could even mutter words of relief, the loud sound of him suddenly retching echoed throughout the entire alley; the food he just lavishly ate in the chief's house, now mixed with all the filth on the ground.

"W—"

And once again, he vomited.

"My… my head."

"You should have killed them all."

"Hm?"

Vayne quickly looked at the two unconscious thugs, only to find them unconscious still.

"..."

"...So many weird things are happening," Vayne then took in a very deep breath as he stood straight; trying his best to regain his composure.

And after a few seconds of this, he finally walked away from the alley — not before, of course, wiping his hand on one of the thugs.

***

"You the kid that would be joining us?"

"...Yes."

It didn't take long for Vayne to find the caravan.

4 carts, 2 carriages, and a lot of armed escorts waiting in front of the village gates? This could be none other than them. They were the only caravan preset in the first place.

"...I'm not even going to ask you what happened to you."

The first to approach Vayne was a tall man with a mustache; his eyes, looking at Vayne's disheveled state from head to toe, "But you're right on time, we are about to leave at any minute now. My name's Derek, the caravan's manager. So if you need anything, just ask me, kid."

"...Can I perhaps procure some water, then?" Vayne quickly said as he wiped the sweat that was almost drowning his face. Even after minutes passed, his head still feels like there was something heavy stuck in it.

"Water?" Derek raised an eyebrow; the tone of his voice, suddenly turning cold, "What do I look like, your servant?"

"..."

"..."

"W—"

"I am just joking with you, kid!" And all of a sudden, a burst of laughter echoed through the entire caravan like a domino as the other people also looked at Vayne with amusement,

"Someone get this boy some water! What's your name, boy!?"

"...Forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself, lord. My name is Vayne, Vayne of the Val— you may just address me as Vayne, lord."

"...You're weird," Derek squinted his eyes, "That means you're welcome here! Just stay here, stay!" He then started tapping Vayne's back repeatedly, almost causing him to tumble several times before he finally left.

"..." Vayne couldn't really do anything but watch as he drank the water given to him. He asked if he could help around. But alas, the others said he would just get in the way. But finally, after a few more minutes, everyone seemed to be starting to settle down.

Vayne looked around for a couple of seconds, before approaching one of the carriages.  As he did so, however, the people that were guarding the carriage blocked him with their spears.

"W—"

"Hey, water boy! Vayne! Vayne!"

Vayne quickly looked towards the voice that called him, only to see another boy that seemed to be his age waving at him from one of the carts,

"Your spot's here!"

"...Oh," Vayne blinked a couple of times, before letting out a small sigh and looking at the guards,

"Forgive me, brave sirs. I thought this coach would be my abode in this long journey, I shall take my leave," he then said; bowing before walking away.

"..."

"..."

"Rex, who's that?" And as he gained a distance, a whisper seeped from the crevices of the carriage.

"Just a stow the chief asked us to take, m'lady."

"I see. He doesn't sound like a stow. When do we depart?"

"They are opening the gates as we speak, m'lady," the guard, Rex, said as he leaned closer to the window of the carriage, "Please do not worry, we are guarding sir Leon's Artifact well."

"Good, prioritize its safety. My son needs that. Keep your eyes peeled, Rex. Do not trust anyone."

"Of course, m'lady."

***

"What are you looking at, water boy?"

Vayne, who was now seated on one of the carts along with everyone else, was still looking at the carriage he almost entered in.

"What's in there?" Vayne asked.

"Some noble from the Safe Lands," the boy beside him answered with a whisper, "I'd stay away from them if I were you. The madam inside is beautiful… but she's a fucking snub."

"...A snob?" Vayne whispered, before finally turning his eyes away from the carriage and towards the opening gates in front of them.

It was… unusually bright.

And as they were about to pass, Vayne could only watch as his other companions on the cart started wearing some sort of blanket over their heads— it wasn't just them, even the ones on the other carts, and the guards on horses started covering themselves.

"...What's going on?" Vayne asked.

"What do you mean? Where are your shades, water boy?" The boy beside him said as he wore some sort of sunglasses.

"...Huh?"

And before they could fully pass through the gates, Vayne finally remembered where Fergo was situated in; his eyes, turning wide as the images of the several maps he had seen surfaced in his mind.

He forgot how weird the Dark Continent is.

Fergo was and is protected by some sort of barrier. A barrier that keeps them comfortable and safe from the harsh environments of the outside.

The scorching—no, the scalding rays of the sun that might as well melt one's skin.

"...Oh."

And so, once again— Vayne ventures out into the Dark Continent as a bystander.