Chapter 4: A Normal Life

A month had passed, and the manhunt for the terrifying fugitive was still in full swing. Everywhere in the city, one could see squads of the Royal Guard combing through streets and alleyways. Wanted posters with the fugitive's image were plastered all over, and the public was buzzing with rumors. Some said the man was a spy from an enemy nation, others claimed he was a new breed of orc, and still others whispered that he was a necromancer from the Death Cult.

Asa stood with Sandru and a few vegetable vendors in front of the butcher shop, listening to the shopkeeper boast wildly about how the cultist had drawn symbols in the air, shouted incantations, and caused everyone in the prison to be instantly decapitated, rivers of blood flowing through the cells. The vendors whispered among themselves and made plans to visit the church to get holy water for protection.

"You should splash holy water on your undergarments," Sandru said to the vendors with a grin. "That's the most effective spot."

A squad of patrolling guards passed by, brushing close to Asa. A few of them cast curious glances in his direction.

But it was just a glance. Asa himself hesitated to look too long at his reflection these days. His face was like a half-melted wax figure, covered in lumpy scars and gleaming with an oily sheen, his features twisted and distorted beyond recognition. Even a half-orc or a goblin would look handsome in comparison.

Of course, this was just a mask. A very convincing one. It even had visible pores, faint blood vessels under the skin, and the texture of real flesh. Sandru's craftsmanship was excellent, and the mask was so comfortable that Asa often forgot he was wearing it. But he dared not ask what materials Sandru had used to make it.

Hunched over, with a cushion strapped to his back, a limp in his step, and an old, ragged cloak draped over his entire body, Asa now looked perfectly suited to his new role. After a couple of days wandering the streets with Sandru, the people of the neighborhood had grown familiar with him, knowing him only as Sandru's hunchbacked assistant.

To Asa's surprise, he learned that Sandru was affiliated with the Magic Academy, and the house full of corpses actually belonged to the Academy. Even in the rural mining towns of Kalendor, when the miners and blacksmiths—men who lived for cheap liquor and prostitutes—heard mention of the Magic Academy, they would show a certain level of respect. The Academy was closely tied to the Church, a key institution for the study of magic and the training of priests and wizards. To the lower classes, the Academy was almost synonymous with the Church itself. Discussing royal affairs or military matters felt distant and abstract to them, but when it came to injuries, guilt, or spiritual unease, it was always the priests of the Magic Academy who provided comfort. In the eyes of the common people, the Academy was a sacred and noble place.

But just as even the most virtuous person still needs to visit the privy, the Magic Academy, despite its revered status, required a place to study human anatomy. And that meant there had to be a storage facility for corpses.

Of course, to maintain the Academy's reputation and sense of sanctity, this research was kept discreet and only conducted when absolutely necessary. The house was located in a secluded corner on the western edge of the city, and aside from Asa and Sandru, no other living souls frequented it.

Sandru's job was simple: catalog and preserve various organs and body parts. Most of the time, he had plenty of free time, sometimes even going out to the market. But his real passion was experimenting with corpses—reassembling body parts from different people into a single form, applying strange magic to the bodies, cutting organs into tiny pieces, and soaking them in all sorts of weird solutions. This hobby was quite demanding, so Sandru had good relations with the city's jailers and guards. Whenever there was an unclaimed or unimportant body, it was sold to him for a few copper coins.

Asa's duties were equally mundane: carrying bodies, assisting in dissections, chopping organs, running errands to the market, and preparing meals for himself and Sandru.

The large house was usually completely deserted. Aside from three stray cats nearby, there was a visitor every two or three days. He was also an old man, dressed in a black robe, with a gaunt face that looked like he hadn't had a full meal in his life. Dark circles under his eyes made it seem as if he'd never had a good night's sleep. He always came to see Sandru at night. Whenever this happened, Sandru would send Asa into the inner room to read. The two old men would light candles amidst the corpses and organs in the large house and chat until midnight.

Two months ago, Asa had stood on a hill in the western wilderness, watching helplessly as his entire unit was wiped out. Then came the chase by orcs, barely escaping with his life in the Lizard Swamp, almost getting his head twisted off... And then, upon arriving in the capital, he inexplicably became the most feared fugitive in the entire city... Now he was living in a house full of corpses, accompanying a strange old man in playing with the dead. Reflecting on these experiences, even he found it hard to believe.

Logically speaking, he could easily slip away when Sandru wasn't paying attention. With this mask and his current notoriety in the city, he could move about freely without raising suspicion. But he hadn't done so.

There were many reasons for not escaping. For one, learning magic had always been a distant, unattainable dream for him since childhood. Sandru's house contained many books on magic. He was also waiting for Bracada's convoy to bring Elaine back. This seemed to be the only turning point in his current predicament. The duke's "kill on sight" order left him no chance to clear his name, and he still had no idea what had led to this. His only hope was to wait for her return and see if the misunderstanding could be clarified.

Asa had always believed that the duke's warrant for him was due to some misunderstanding regarding his relationship with Elaine. In his current situation, that was all he could guess.

But that wasn't the most important thing. The reason he hadn't run away was that he didn't feel there was anything particularly wrong with his current strange life.

Perhaps it was because, two months ago, he'd seen too much bloodshed and cruelty in that one night. Now, living among corpses and organs no longer repulsed him.

Perhaps, after so many close brushes with death in the Lizard Swamp, seeing the patrols scouring the streets no longer made him anxious. Sometimes, seeing the young soldiers tirelessly searching for him even made him feel a strange sense of kinship, as if he wanted to sit them down at a street stall and kindly advise them not to waste their efforts.

Perhaps Sandru, who had grown accustomed to handling corpses, saw people as no different from dead bodies and thus had no reservations. It was easy to get along with him. He never asked Asa about his past or even his name. After all, with only two living people in the house, whenever the other spoke, it was clear who they were talking to. In contrast, Sandru had even named the three stray cats that frequently came to the house to scavenge for food. The two of them seemed like old friends who had long ago lost any curiosity about each other.

More importantly, Asa was completely absorbed in his daily magic practice and meditation. He could feel himself improving every day. From simple blood-stopping spells to true healing magic, from lighting a candle with two fingers to cooking a fish with bare hands.

He also discovered a dusty old book hidden behind Sandru's bookshelf. The pages were made of some kind of leather, ancient but undamaged. It was a strange book. The table of contents listed an impressive number of spells and magic-related skills and anecdotes. However, apart from the table of contents and the opening chapter on meditation techniques, the rest was written in a language Asa couldn't understand. He didn't ask Sandru about it and simply followed the meditation instructions from the first chapter that he could comprehend, practicing daily.

Every day was spent studying, practicing, and meditating. Asa had lived this kind of focused, peaceful life since he was five years old. To him, this way of life was the most serene and tranquil. Everything felt natural, without any tension or deliberation. And so, Asa unknowingly spent a month in this life of corpses and pursuits.

This quiet existence was undeniably relaxing. After a while, it felt as if every part of him had melted into the rhythm of this life, no longer seeking change or disturbance. But Asa knew this couldn't last forever. There were matters that couldn't be left unresolved. He couldn't remain a fugitive for the rest of his life, living in the shadows. While things seemed safe now, the one thing he couldn't tolerate was being constrained by something.

Moreover, he couldn't let so many people die in vain on that hill in the western wilderness. He had a nagging feeling that his report to the Duke's estate hadn't reached the people it was supposed to.

"Hey, let's go, what are you daydreaming about?" Sandru shoved a bag of purchased goods into his hands. Asa took it, keeping his head down, limping along behind him.

That night, after meditating, Asa was drawn outside by a bright light shining through the window. Stepping out of the house, he saw the second brightest full moon of his life.

It had been exactly two months since the last one, back on that hill in the western wilderness. The same gentle yet dazzling moonlight, without a single star daring to steal the sky's attention. The moonlight tugged at Asa's memory, pulling him back to that night of slaughter.