THE AURELIAN CHRONICLES SHARDS OF DAWN

Chapter 2 The Drunk Weasel and the Blue Screen

One second.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. He surrendered to his death in the middle of this expanse of snow. The wild, freezing wind was suddenly split by the piercing whistle of metal.

Clang.

A loud clash echoed, shattering the silence of the storm. A splatter of thick, hot black liquid sprayed right onto Arthur's face. The heat of the liquid made him snap his eyes open in shock. The head of the Wraith that was just about to

decapitate him was now rolling away into the snow. The shadow monster's neck had been sliced completely clean by a single swing. Its headless body collapsed forward, then slowly disintegrated into black dust that was instantly swept away by the storm.

Arthur gasped for air. He stared blankly at the spot where the monster had died. Standing right there, piercing through the thick fog of snow, was a savior figure that made the remaining sanity in Arthur's brain almost snap completely.

A weasel.

Not an ordinary pet weasel, but a giant weasel the height of an adult's waist. The dull brown furred animal stood tall on its two hind legs like a human. He wore worn out leather armor covered in claw scratches, wrapped in a thick, dirty looking fur coat. His right hand casually held a giant steel sword that was

completely disproportionate to his short body. The tip of the sword was still dripping with the remaining black liquid from the monster's blood.

The weasel lowered his sword and stabbed it into the snowy ground. His left hand reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cloudy glass bottle filled with a yellowish liquid. He chugged the contents of the bottle greedily, then let out a

massive burp that sent the smell of cheap alcohol directly stinging Arthur's nose.

"Get up, kid," the weasel's voice sounded raspy, heavy, and distinct like the voice of an old chain smoker. "Do you want to die crying in the snow, or are you coming with me right now. I am not getting paid to bury your corpse, damn it."

Arthur blinked a few times. His vision was blurry. The pain in his stomach was still torturing him, but his brain was far more tortured trying to process what he had just seen.

From behind, the sound of footsteps could be heard approaching. Lyra came stumbling toward them. The girl immediately dropped to her knees beside Arthur with a pale face. Her eyes bulged as she looked back and forth between the torn wound on Arthur's stomach and the armed, midget weasel in front of them.

"Arthur, you are still alive," Lyra's voice trembled violently. Her breathing was ragged. She pointed at the weasel with a shaking finger. "And wtf, that is a weasel carrying a giant sword. I must have lost my mind tonight. We both have to

be hallucinating from firework smoke poisoning."

"We are not hallucinating," Arthur groaned, holding his intestines back underneath his uniform shirt. "He is the one who just chopped that monster's head off."

Right in front of Arthur's face, the neon blue screen that had threatened him earlier beeped again with a notification ringtone that sounded completely ridiculous in the middle of this deadly situation.

[Main Quest Completed.]

[Death Threat Canceled. For Now.]

The screen blinked twice, then changed its lines of text at high speed.

[New Quest: Follow the Weasel or Die.]

[Objective: Do not freeze to death and follow the drunk weasel's footsteps.]

[Reward: 10 EXP and a Dirty Bandage.]

"Damn screen," Arthur cursed quietly through his gritted teeth.

"Who are you talking to," Lyra asked in a panic, seeing her best friend swearing at thin air. "Arthur, do not pass out. Hold your blood in."

The weasel spat onto the snowy ground with a disgusted expression. "My name is Bramble. If you two want to have a crying reunion, you better do it in hell. The storm in this forest is going to freeze your blood solid in fifteen minutes."

"I cannot walk, asshole," Arthur fired back, holding in a mix of anger and pain.

"My stomach is ripped open because of that shadow monster of yours."

Bramble snorted in annoyance at the complaint. The weasel walked over to Arthur with dragging steps. He popped the cap off his drink bottle again, then, without warning, poured the rest of the cheap alcohol straight onto the open wound on

Arthur's stomach.

Arthur screamed at the top of his lungs. His hoarse shriek echoed, overpowering the sound of the storm. It felt like thousands of fire ants were biting and tearing at his internal organs all at once. His body tensed up violently. Lyra

screamed in panic as well, trying to push the weasel away, but Bramble's strength was far greater than he looked.

"You guys are way too loud," Bramble scolded casually, pushing Lyra's hands away. "That liquor is to kill the shadow poison from that Wraith's claws earlier. If I didn't pour it, your internal organs would rot and turn to mush before morning. Now cover your wound with this."

Bramble reached into his belt pouch and tossed a roll of grayish brown bandage cloth toward Lyra. The fabric smelled like wet dirt and dried blood. Strangely, right as the bandage landed in Lyra's hands, the blue screen in front of Arthur's eyes spawned new text again.

[Item Received. Dirty Bandage.]

[Effect: Forcibly stops bleeding. Side Effect:

Minor infection if not treated with medical magic immediately.]

Arthur stared at the roll of cloth in Lyra's hands in sheer disbelief. That filthy thing was the reward from the system glowing in front of his eyes. All of this absurd shit was physically connected.

"Wrap his stomach up real tight, kid," Bramble ordered, resting his massive sword on his shoulder. "I do not want his blood trail inviting more Wraiths over here."

Lyra had no choice. She fought back her nausea at the sight of Arthur's exposed flesh. She wrapped the dirty bandage around Arthur's waist and stomach with quick, clumsy movements. Arthur growled in pain as the rough fabric pressed against his wound. As soon as the final wrap was tied tight, the stinging pain in his gut slowly faded, replaced by a numbing cold sensation. Miraculously, his bleeding had completely stopped.

"Can you stand up," Lyra asked, pulling on Arthur's arm.

"I can. Pull me up slowly, wtf." Arthur forced himself to stand. His legs were shaking violently. He leaned half of his body weight onto Lyra's shoulder.

The screen in front of his eyes blinked again.

[HP Stabilized at 10 out of 100.]

[Status: Bleeding Stopped. Infection Delayed.]

"What have you been staring at this whole time," Lyra asked in confusion, noticing Arthur's eyes constantly locked onto thin air right in front of his own nose.

"There is a glowing blue square screen in front of my face," Arthur replied with a raspy voice. "Like a menu screen in an online game. You really can't see it."

Lyra stared closely at Arthur's face, then pressed the back of her hand against the boy's forehead. "You have a severe fever. Your brain must be short circuiting from enduring the pain. Just stop talking so much."

"I am not crazy, damn it. This screen is telling us to follow that drunk weasel so we can get EXP."

Ahead of them, Bramble was already walking, cutting through the snowbanks. The tip of his massive sword dragged behind him, leaving a long trail line across the white ground. "I heard what you said, kid," Bramble yelled without looking back. "I do not care if you are hallucinating or if your brain has been

defective since birth. If you two fall ten steps behind me, you are both going to turn into shaved ice."

The two of them finally forced themselves to walk, catching up to Bramble. The journey through the pine forest felt like a delayed death sentence. The storm winds kept battering their faces mercilessly. The knee deep snowdrifts made every step feel like lifting tons of dead weight. The school uniforms they were wearing had already frozen solid and stiff.

Arthur kept coughing uncontrollably. His body was shivering intensely. He leaned heavily on Lyra, who was just as exhausted. Ahead of them, Bramble walked with a casual stride, as if this freezing air was just a gentle breeze. The weasel even took the time to whistle a tune, completely ignoring the two half dead teenagers trailing behind him.

"Hey, weasel," Lyra called out, panting heavily. "Where are we, exactly. This is clearly not Earth. What country did that damn wardrobe in our school actually take us to."

Bramble spat to the side and glanced back briefly. "Earth. I don't know what kind of dumpster that is. You two are currently on the outskirts of the Broken Plains. Deep in the heart of Eldoria."

"Eldoria," Arthur muttered, repeating the unfamiliar name.

"Yeah, kid. A world full of arrogant elves, greedy dwarves, and those damn shadow monsters like the one that almost sliced your neck off just now." Bramble pointed toward the dark sky filled with swirling black clouds. "And those disgusting black clouds are the handiwork of Malakor's dark energy, slowly

leaking out from his cage."

"Malakor," Lyra asked in a frustrated tone. "Can you explain things from the beginning without using weird names we do not understand."

"I am not your history teacher," Bramble shot back sharply. "My only job is to bring you two alive to the academy. The rest is none of my business. I just want to hurry up and sleep on a dry bed while drinking some wheat beer that is not frozen solid."

"What academy now, wtf," Arthur groaned. He stared at his system screen, which suddenly popped up new red text.

[Warning: Stamina Dropping Drastically.]

[Movement speed reduced by 50 percent. Risk of hypothermia in ten minutes.]

"I need a damn health potion, not a weather warning," Arthur cursed at his system screen.

"You are talking to yourself again, Arthur," Lyra scolded in a panic. "Just hang on a little longer. Do not die out here, damn it. I am not strong enough to carry your corpse by myself."

"I am still alive, chatterbox. This damn blue screen keeps blocking my vision." Arthur squinted, trying to see the path ahead.

They kept walking for almost half an hour through the darkness and the blizzard. The muscles in Arthur's legs were completely numb. His breaths were short and shallow. His stomach throbbed with pain every time he took a step. Right when Arthur felt like his heart was about to stop beating from the cold, Bramble halted his steps.

They arrived at a dead end. Towering in front of them was an incredibly high black stone cliff. The cliff was solid, covered in a thick layer of ice, and had absolutely no entrance or gap to squeeze through. The storm winds battered the stone wall and bounced back toward them viciously.

Lyra dropped to her knees in the snow. She stared at the dead end cliff in despair. "It is a dead end. You said we were going to an academy. Where is the building, wtf. Do you want us to freeze to death standing in front of this rock."

Bramble ignored Lyra's rant. The weasel walked closer to the icy cliff wall. He raised his free left hand and pressed his thick furry palm flat against the surface of the ice.

Bramble muttered a few words in a foreign language that sounded like a harsh growl. A moment later, ancient runic carvings lit up with a glowing ember red color from beneath the layer of ice.

The surface of the black stone cliff suddenly shook so violently that it made the ground beneath Arthur's feet tremble. A loud rumbling noise overpowered the howling of the storm. The solid layer of stone in front of them slowly melted and rippled like the surface of a pond after a stone was thrown into it.

The illusion of the giant cliff faded completely.

Arthur widened his eyes in disbelief. Behind the illusion of the stone cliff, stood a giant iron gate dozens of meters high. Behind the gate, a massive complex of ancient gothic stone fortresses and towers loomed, surrounded by a glowing moat of lava. The grand, dark architecture was hidden perfectly from the outside world.

The giant iron gate slowly opened inward with an ear piercing screech of hinges.

From behind the open gate, a blast of hot air immediately rushed out, chasing away the freezing chill of the blizzard. However, Arthur's relief only lasted for a second. Behind the gate doors stood two rows of guards dressed in gleaming

silver armor. They held long spears with tips that radiated hot blue fire magic. The guards' faces were concealed by steel helmets, but the eyes glaring sharply at Arthur and Lyra were clearly not the eyes of ordinary humans. Their eyes glowed golden, cold, and were filled with a thick aura of hostility.

In the middle of that terrifying line of guards, a tall man draped in a blood red velvet robe stepped forward. He stared at Arthur's blood soaked stomach with a faint, condescending smile.

The blue screen in front of Arthur's eyes lit up brightly again.

[You have entered the territory of Ignis Academy.]

[Warning: High Level Danger Zone. You are prey in this place.]

Arthur could no longer hold out against the physical limits of his body. Right as the red robed man's feet stopped in front of him, Arthur's consciousness snapped completely, and his body collapsed, slamming onto the stone floor of the gate.