Gathering his things and finishing extinguishing the fire, Gantz took his sword from the cargo harness and fastened it to his leather belt. He took a last sip of coffee while watching the flowers open as they touched the sunlight.
Mounting the donkey named Geremia, he returned to the road while trying to think about what he would do.
— I couldn't spend all this money; people would be suspicious since I don't dress or speak like someone wealthy. And then there's that cursed man! Of course, if he found out I'm still alive, God only knows what he would do.
While lost in thought, Gantz didn't notice he was more than halfway to the city.
As he drank water from his canteen, he heard a whistle—then something struck his drink, knocking it to the ground. Instantly, it clicked: he was in a dangerous area. The mid-point of the journey was the primary ambush spot for gangs.
A group of five people, semi-armored, appeared around him—three men and two women. The two in the back held crossbows, while the three men advanced, surrounding Geremia. The donkey wasn't stupid; he snorted, giving slight bucks into the air.
— You know the drill, don't you, partner?
Gantz looked around: five people with skin tanned dark by the sun, scarred, with unkempt hair and beards, and clothes caked in dirt and mud.
A woman with red hair and a full bust, divided by a scar and covered only by improvised armor plates, fired first. The other woman followed immediately.
Gantz watched the men with wide eyes. The bolts came within centimeters of him before they stopped—two black lines emerging from his chest held the arrows fast.
— A Sage?! — the brown-haired woman screamed before starting to run. An arrow pierced her skull, making her eyes pop out.
The redhead looked away just as she was hit in the temple; her body collapsed like a ventriloquist's dummy without strings.
The men were already lunging when, in a nearly invisible movement, their hands were severed, tossed backward as blood sprayed their bodies. The screams didn't last. Three lines flowed out and pierced their skulls, leaving the bodies dangling as they withered from the inside out until only their clothes remained, falling to the ground. Unlike the previous night, the thing expanded further and devoured the other bodies, leaving only their gear behind.
Gantz wasn't surprised; he had ordered the movements, though the part about devouring the bodies hadn't been in the script.
This thing is truly evil, he thought as he watched the lines retract back into himself. He dismounted and gathered the clothes, searching for money. He found four fake magic rings. He knew they were fake because original rings could only be bought at the National Bank and bore a royal insignia on the inside. Irreplicable.
Opening the four, he found only a small space—about one meter by one meter—almost completely dark, with a few gold coins and clothes inside. He cleared out three of them and filled one with diamonds, coins, and the other rings to sell later.
He was impressed; there wasn't even a hint of nausea this time.
— I guess it's like they say: people adapt to everything.
The rest of the trip was peaceful, and he reached the outskirts by nightfall without incident. As he passed, he spotted a light through the trees.
More thugs? he thought, dismounting. He wouldn't be caught again; it was better to attack this time.
As he peered through the bushes, he saw an old man wearing strange clothes—a loose shirt with long sleeves that reached his knees. He wore diamond earrings, rings of various colors and gems, and his eyes were painted black.
— Are you just going to watch, or are you going to come greet me? — He laughed as he waved, making his sleeve flutter in the air.
Cautiously, Gantz approached.
— Come to rob an old man, thief? — he said, smiling.
— I'm not a thief. I thought this was a bandit camp.
— A hero, then?
— Far from it. Just... trying not to die.
— Then come, sit here, and try not to die with me tonight.
Gantz brought Geremia over and tied him to a tree. He offered food to the old man, who refused with a smile.
— If I may ask, what is your name?
The firelight flickered between them, shifting the shadows of their expressions.
— I'm Gantz.
— Gantz? Are you a commoner?
— Yes, no surname — he replied, looking into the fire. — And you are a Sage.
— Very wise of you to notice — the old man said, smiling. — But I also notice you carry a noble's sword.
Gantz gripped the hilt as he looked at the old man.
— I thought Sages were forbidden in the Empire.
— I thought it was forbidden for a commoner to kill a noble. It seems we are both criminals, then — the old man shrugged, laughing.
— Seems we have an agreement.
— Seems so — Gantz said, relaxing his body and letting go of the sword. — But that dark energy inside your body... certainly nothing good.
Gantz stood up, backing away.
— Easy, you skittish cat! I'm just making conversation! What happened, did they kill your family?
Gantz winced.
— They did?
He didn't answer; he just sat back down. The old man was no longer smiling.
— Is this thing... that bad?
— This thing is called Dark Matter, and usually, yes, it's quite bad. It affects people and animals, turning them into uncontrolled monsters. It is also capable of breaking natural laws—like reviving the dead and mixing things that shouldn't be possible.
— Then what about me?
— It's rare, but not impossible, for some people to interact with this energy. But even they cannot be called normal; they are usually cruel, violent, and unscrupulous.
— I have scruples!
— It's one of two things: either you are a unique individual, or you are still too weak.
— Shouldn't you want to kill me if that's the case?
— Why would I do that? If you turn into one, the people of this Empire are the ones who will suffer. I have no responsibility toward them. Regardless, it's quite clever to use one energy to cover the other. Were your parents part of the Church?
— Yes, my father was a soldier. But that didn't mean much in the end.
They spent the early hours of the morning talking, and Mazadan ended up granting Gantz some insights regarding mana manipulation.