The stocky man’s eyes narrowed. “Passing through, huh? Don’t see many people wandering these parts alone. You lost, girl?”

  Another mercenary snickered. He was a wiry man with a crooked grin and a scar running down his cheek. “Or running from something. Either way, doesn’t look like she’s carrying much. No weapons, no pack. Strange, don’t you think?”

  The woman tending the horses glanced over, her eyes sharp and calculating. “She’s too clean to be a runaway,” she said, her tone skeptical. “No dirt on her hands, no calluses. Looks like a noble brat to me.”

  Veronica’s jaw tightened. She definitely looked suspicious in anyone’s eyes, but hopefully, the mercenaries could overlook it.

  “Noble? With those clothes?” replied the scar-faced man. “She’s wearing rags.”

  The woman simply shrugged. “Probably changed clothes and is on the run. Who knows? Still too clean to have been out stalking us.” Her gazed lingered on Veronica a few moments more, before flicking to her ears. “Elven?”

  “Less than a tenth,” Veronica replied calmly.

  Her great-great-grandmother had been a dark elf. Though the heritage was partially distant, some traits lingered. Veronica’s skin held a light tan—not enough for others to draw a conclusion, but her stubby, pointed ears were the true giveaway if people focused on them—if they weren’t covered by her hair.

  “I just woke up in the forest alone. I’m not sure where I am or how far it is to the nearest town or city. I was hoping you could help guide me,” she asked.

  The stocky man, clearly the leader of the group, exchanged a look with the woman. His grip on his sword relaxed slightly, but the suspicion in his eyes remained. “Maybe we can help,” he said slowly, “but we don’t trust strangers wandering into our camp uninvited.”

  The scarred man leaned forward, his grin widening. “Might be safer if we put some cuffs on her. Just until we know she’s not gonna pull anything shady.”

  Veronica’s stomach twisted at the suggestion, but she didn’t let her discomfort show.

  The leader raised an eyebrow, considering the suggestion. “Not a bad idea, Jorren. We’ve been burned before by strangers,” he said, then moving his gaze to Veronica, “Don’t take it personal, girl, but trust is earned out here.”

  Veronica’s first instinct was to refuse. She wasn’t normally aggressive, but the incredibly insulting suggestion to shackle her would have made her furious—if she had the energy to show it.

  She held back.

  “Fine,” she said, keeping her tone even. “As long as you don’t try anything, I’ll cooperate. All I want is to get somewhere safe.”

  The leader nodded, motioning for the woman to fetch a pair of iron cuffs from one of the packs. “Good. Makes things easier for all of us.”

  [Veronica, those cuffs are—]

  I know. I recognize them, she responded mentally.

  The cuffs were thick and heavy as they snapped around her wrists, the cold metal biting into her skin. Veronica fought back her irritation, reminding herself that she could easily break free if the need arose. The spell she had in mind was simple enough—just a burst of mana to shatter the metal—but she filed the thought away for later, in case the need arose.

  Jorren chuckled as he watched her. “She’s awful calm for someone in chains. You sure she’s not hiding something?” The mercenaries all cast skeptical looks at her, but they, at the very least, kept their distance from her.

  Veronica didn’t respond to the comment, keeping her gaze steady as she took a seat on the ground near the fire.

  The mercenaries resumed their tasks, though their conversation grew quieter. Veronica focused on their words, hoping to glean anything useful from their chatter.

  “Two days to Greystone,” the leader said, poking at the fire with a stick. “We’ll stop there for supplies and see if anyone’s hiring.”

  “Not much work out there,” the woman replied. “The tensions are all on the east side. War is going to break out at any time now. Barely any use for mercs all the way out here.”

  Jorren snorted. “Greystone’s as good a place as any to find coin, war or not. If nothing else, there’s always someone looking to buy or sell some… nice goods.”

  The way he emphasized those last words made Veronica’s muscles tense. She could almost feel the intentional meaning of his words, how she was the ‘nice goods’ he was talking about. She kept her gaze on the fire, keeping her expression neutral, even if her thoughts were betraying her. The hint that he let out was unwelcome, but vitally important—slavery was still being practiced.

  Depending on how far back she had traveled, slavery may have been legal in many countries. It had taken years of effort from the various kingdoms, and a handful of influential figures to outlaw the practice globally, and even then, enforcement had been shaky at best before The Fall.

  Sage. Do you know where Greystone is?

  [Greystone is a small town ruled by Baron Alemeister, within Duke Manevich’s territory. It is located near the Wyvern Mountains.”

  Baron Alemeister… I don’t think I’ve heard of him. But he is only a smallfry Baron. if I’m near the Wyvern Mountains… then I’m very far away from Annesheim.

  The Wyvern Mountains were far south of the Kingdom, almost as far away as she could be from Annesheim. It would be a very long trip from here to there.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  These mercenaries weren’t people she’d be able to trust. For now, she stayed silent, her ears sharp and her expression as calm as possible. She was merely taking in the fire’s warmth. That was all.

  After all, the steel cuffs that they put on her—they weren’t animal cuffs or ones used by law enforcement. Sage tried to warn her about it earlier, but she already knew what they were.

  They were cuffs used for slaves.

  After taking a short camp rest, the group began packing up their camp, dousing the fire and gathering their gear. Veronica rose to her feet, her movements unhurried, keeping her distance as she watched them. She didn’t take any of the food they offered, and instead relied on the berries and wildfruit she picked up earlier. She was outnumbered here, but she could still fight. But the chance they could poison her first had come to mind.

  The woman with the sharp eyes—Kaela—as she overheard them say, stared at her for a few moments, but said nothing.

  Once the animals were saddled and their camp cleared, the group began to move. As they set off through the forest, Veronica walked a few paces behind the group, her senses on high alert. The scarred man, Jorren, fell back to walk beside her, a smirk playing on his lips.

  “So, little bird,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone? You sure you’re not running from a husband or a debt?”

  Veronica kept her gaze forward, her voice calm but firm. She tried her best to hide her bubbling anger. “I told you already. I’m just trying to get to the nearest town. I don’t remember anything before waking up.”

  Jorren chuckled, leaning closer. “Sure, sure. But you’ve got to admit, it’s strange. A girl like you, wandering the woods with no weapons, no supplies… almost like you’re asking for trouble.”

  Veronica’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken threat in his words. She could also feel her fist about to pop a vein.

  A punch in the face wouldn’t hurt, right? Just a quick punch…

  Kaela, walking ahead, glanced back and shot Jorren a sharp look. “Leave her alone, Jorren. We don’t need your nonsense right now.”

  Jorren held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just making conversation, Kaela. No harm in that, is there?”

  Kaela rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the path. Jorren lingered for a moment longer, his smirk fading into a scowl, before he quickened his pace to rejoin the others.

  Veronica exhaled softly, shoulders loosening. She didn’t trust Kaela any more than the others, but at least the woman wasn’t openly hostile. Their leader, Telrick, seemed indifferent to her, though he made no move to rein in that brute Jorren. The rest of the mercenaries only spared her curious glances—more lone wolves than a united band.

  They traveled deeper into the forest, their talk drifting to mundane matters: work rumors in Greystone, gear maintenance, road conditions. Veronica listened quietly, filing away every detail. Telrick mentioned a caravan heading east, but offered nothing useful beyond that.

  As the sun dipped below the trees, washing the forest in orange and purple, Telrick finally called a halt.

  “We camp here. Kaela, first watch. Jorren, you’re next.”

  The group set up quickly, laying out bedrolls and tending to the horses. Veronica settled near a large tree, hands cuffed in her lap, outwardly calm while her thoughts ran through every possible danger the night might bring. She trusted none of them—especially not Jorren. It was only a matter of time before someone decided she was expendable.

  She used the hours to quietly draw in ambient mana. For mages, there were two things that they could work toward. First, was ascending, strengthening their mana core, sending them up a tier. The second, was forming mana rings, regulators for a person's mana regeneration.

  Right now, she worked toward forming her first mana ring. With it, spellcasting would become easier. While she could also work on refining her mana core to ascend to Tier-1, it simply wasn't safe to do so. It would require unbothered concentration, as compared to forming a mana ring. She couldn't do it in the middle of a mercenary camp.

  When the camp finally quieted, save for the crackling fire, Veronica closed her eyes and feigned sleep. Her focus stayed sharp, gathering mana thread by thread. It was slow, clumsy work—mana kept slipping through her grasp—but she couldn’t rest. She had a bad feeling about the camp; gathering her power was of utmost importance.

  [Mana: 200+194/200 MU]

  The mana flowed into her, pooling in her core, filling up to be unleashed at her command in a moment’s notice. Slave cuffs like these were just made of regular metal. The ones on her wrists didn’t seem to be enchanted with magic, so it would be easy enough to get out with a burst of mana.

  Hours passed, the moon rising high in the sky. Going without sleep—she had done this for nearly two years now. Working while exhausted was just normal to her now. However calm she looked, she was in actuality very tense and guarded.

  The hours also didn’t pass in vain. It was just enough for her to create her first set of mana rings. One for each mana core.

  Sage echoed in her mind as she finished the process.

  [You have completed a quest: Form a Tier-1 Mana Ring]

  [Reward: Increased Mana Regeneration]

  -

  Mana Regeneration: 80 MU/hour

  Her reward was mana regeneration?

  What is this reward, Sage? Veronica asked mentally.

  [Forming your mana rings has increased your total mana regeneration by 100% each, bringing your total to 60 MU/hour. The reward given is an additional 20 base MU/hour increase.]

  What? You can just… boost my regeneration up—just like that?

  [This increase is contingent on you forming the initial mana rings so that I have more data points to analyze and research. Complete further quests, and I can continue improving your body.]

  This almost seemed like cheating. If her mana rings each gave a boost of 20 MU/hour, then Sage just gave her another increase as if she had another core. Forget having two cores—three?

  Ludicrous.

  If Sage could really keep giving her these enhancements, then in the future, she might be more powerful than she ever was as a Tier-10. Maybe she could step into the realm of the 11th-Tier, if it existed.

  As the night drew on, Veronica’s senses only continued to heighten.

  Then, as she expected, she heard the soft rustle of fabric, the faint creak of leather, and then the unmistakable sound of soft footsteps and low voices.

  “She’s just sitting there,” Jorren’s voice hissed, barely audible. “I’m telling you, this is the perfect chance. She’s bound up and asleep. We’re planning on selling her off anyway.”

  A sinking weight settled in Veronica’s chest, but it was quickly replaced by cold resolve. She had expected this, given the true nature of her steel cuffs.

  “You’re out of your mind,” Kaela’s voice replied, though it sounded uncertain. “Telrick will have your head if he finds out.”

  “He won’t,” Jorren insisted. “He’s asleep, and you are not going to tell him, Kaela. She’s just some nobody. Don’t act like you haven’t done worse things,” he pressed. “A little fun won’t hurt anyone.”

  A sigh, which probably came from Kaela, came from the darkness, followed by steps walking away. The other set of steps, however, continued to move closer to her.

  Veronica opened her eyes just enough to see the shadowy form moving closer to her. She took a slow, steady breath. It was obvious something like this was going to happen. Still, she couldn't simply fight all of them; she wasn't even Tier-1 yet.

  Although she had been stockpiling mana for the past few hours, not all of it could be contained. The further she went over her natural capacity, the faster the mana would dissipate. It took all of her effort to keep the ambient mana contained. If she couldn't fight them, she could still escape.

  “Hey, little bird,” Jorren whispered, his voice thick with anticipation. “Let’s have a little fun—“

  “Have fun with yourself, asshole,” she murmured in the darkness.

  The moment his hand reached toward her, Veronica attacked.

  A sharp pulse of mana surged through her body, and the iron cuffs around her wrists exploded with a deafening crack, sending metal fragments directed all towards Jorren. The force sent him stumbling backward, his arm having been completely shredded by the explosion and steel shrapnel.

  “Argh! My arm!”

  His shout of surprise and agony alerted the rest of the mercenaries.