Chapter 49: Back to Xenor

  The cold wind carried the scent of pine and distant campfires as Marcus and his party rode along the dirt road leading to Xenor. The journey should have been uneventful. It should have been a quiet march toward whatever bureaucratic nightmare awaited him at the Adventurer’s Guild.

  But nothing in Marcus’ life was ever that simple.

  Vira rode beside him, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Boruk and Ragn flanked their sides, while Thalron and his inquisitors led the way. Arixa remained just ahead of Marcus, her usual scowl firmly in place, though she kept stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  Marcus exhaled, shaking his head. This was going to be a long trip.

  As they traveled, Thalron finally spoke up.

  "You do realize what you’ve done, don’t you?" His voice was calm, but the tension in his shoulders gave away his unease.

  Marcus stretched his arms lazily. "I don’t know, Thal. You tell me."

  Thalron shot him a sharp look. "You’re forcing the Guild to recognize orc sovereignty. That’s no small thing."

  Marcus smirked. "Good. It’s about time."

  Vira nodded in agreement. "Orcs have had to fight for everything. Why shouldn’t we claim what’s ours?"

  Thalron sighed. "It’s not that simple. The Xenorian Council doesn’t want to acknowledge orc lands as independent. If they do, they lose control over what happens here. Your ‘resource dungeon’ just made things worse."

  Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Worse for them. Better for us."

  "That’s what I’m worried about," Thalron muttered. "The Guild isn’t going to like this, and some of them might decide it’s easier if you just… disappear."

  Marcus let that settle. He had expected pushback, but if even Thalron was warning him, that meant things were bad.

  Arixa, who had been quiet up to this point, scoffed. "Let them try." She flicked her gaze toward Marcus. "Not like this idiot would go down easy anyway."

  Marcus grinned. "Aww, Arixa, that almost sounded like a compliment."

  She snorted. "Don’t get used to it."

  But she looked away quickly, adjusting the strap of her warhammer as if the conversation made her uncomfortable.

  Marcus smirked to himself. She wasn’t fooling anyone.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, the group stopped at a roadside outpost—a resting area for merchants and travelers.

  The moment Marcus stepped inside, he felt the shift in the atmosphere.

  Eyes turned toward him. Whispers spread.

  "That’s him, isn’t it?" "The First Delver…" "I heard he tamed a dungeon!" "No, no, I heard he knocked out a dragon with one punch!"

  Marcus raised an eyebrow. Well, that escalated fast.

  Thalron groaned. "Great. This is exactly what I was worried about."

  Marcus leaned against the counter, ordering food while Vira and Boruk found a table. As he waited, a group of adventurers approached.

  One, a burly man with a greatsword, crossed his arms. "So, you’re the guy everyone’s talking about."

  Marcus turned, offering a lazy grin. "That depends. What are they saying?"

  The man studied him for a long moment, then smirked. "That you don’t look like much."

  Arixa, who had just sat down, slammed her mug onto the table. "You wanna test that, pretty boy?"

  Marcus almost choked on his drink.

  The greatsword-wielder hesitated. "Relax, I wasn’t looking for a fight."

  Arixa scowled, crossing her arms. "Then stop wasting our time."

  Marcus leaned back, amused. Was she… defending him?

  The adventurer chuckled. "Fair enough." He tipped his mug toward Marcus. "Good luck in Xenor, ‘First Delver.’ You’re gonna need it."

  "How the hell does everyone already know." Marcus asked.

  Thalron replied, "we travel slow, word doesn't"

  They left the outpost as dusk settled in. Marcus had the distinct feeling they were being watched.

  He didn’t say anything right away—he wanted to be sure.

  But when Stem confirmed his suspicion, he knew they were in trouble.

  "Marcus. Five individuals are trailing us. Their movement patterns suggest high-level combat training."

  Marcus relayed the information to Vira and Thalron, who immediately tensed.

  Thalron signaled his inquisitors. "They’re not random bandits. If they wanted gold, they would’ve attacked the outpost. They’re after you."

  Marcus exhaled. "Yeah, I figured."

  Then—the attack came.

  Shadows burst from the treetops, figures cloaked in dark, flowing garb, moving like ghosts.

  Their weapons glowed with enchanted energy—not meant for capture. Meant to kill.

  Arixa was the first to react, swinging her warhammer with terrifying speed, forcing one of the assassins back. "Cowards!" she snarled.

  Boruk caught an attacker mid-air, hurling them into a tree with a sickening crunch.

  Marcus ducked under a dagger swipe, slamming his fist into an assassin’s ribs, cracking armor and bone alike.

  Vira unleashed a torrent of flame, forcing two of them to retreat into the shadows.

  The fight was fast, brutal, and too coordinated to be a coincidence.

  One assassin tried to flank Marcus—but Arixa intercepted them.

  She blocked a strike meant for him, taking a deep gash along her arm.

  Marcus immediately retaliated, his punch sending the attacker sprawling.

  Arixa growled through gritted teeth. "Don’t think this means I owe you."

  Marcus smirked. "Oh, I think it does."

  Together, they pushed back the remaining assassins.

  One tried to flee, but Thalron shot a binding spell, locking them in place.

  Before they could interrogate the captive—the assassin bit down on a hidden poison pill.

  Marcus clenched his jaw. "Damn it."

  Thalron exhaled sharply. "That confirms it. Someone in the Guild doesn’t want you making it to Xenor."

  Marcus wiped the blood from his knuckles. "Guess that means I’m important."

  Arixa, still gripping her injured arm, smirked. "Yeah, well, you better be worth all this trouble."

  Marcus grinned. "Oh, you know I am."

  By dawn, they reached the gates of Xenor.

  The city was massive, a fortress of towering stone walls and Guild banners. The streets bustled with merchants, adventurers, and nobility.

  But standing at the entrance, waiting for them, was a contingent of Guild enforcers.

  Their captain, a tall man in pristine robes, stepped forward. His expression was unreadable.

  "Marcus Elder." His voice carried the weight of authority. "By order of the Adventurer’s Guild, you are hereby summoned for deposition."

  Silence.

  Marcus sighed, stepping forward, raising his hands. "Well… let’s get this over with."

  The road had ended. And now, his interrogation would begin.