Shadows of the Darkened Veil

'What if… it's the Darkened Shadows… I am making a… contract with… On the other hand, if someone wants to use magic, then they would have to make a contract… there has to be no other way…' His fingers slightly trembled. The suspense and the silence of the cave were stabbing him. His brows furrowed as he looked at the unconscious adventurer, questioning whether he should kill this person and gain dark magic affinity or talk to him to gather information.

Confusion and hesitation were taking over him. He touched his lips with trembling fingers, 'If he doesn't tell me anything, then… should I kill him…?' He wasn't afraid of killing but rather the potential consequences of his actions. He was indeed being a fool, making things unnecessarily difficult for himself.

'Something… should be done. I should first talk to him. Then, we'll see if I want to use him as a sacrifice for the Dark Magic Affinity ritual,' he decided, his mind settling on a single direction. He was still scared of the last lines of the cryptic poem he had discovered earlier.

As he looked at the rope in his bag, he resolved to tie up the adventurer. Never having done this before, he awkwardly attempted to restrain the man, using all of the rope to bind his hands, and legs, and even wrapping his head for some inexplicable reason. The two-spear adventurer now looked like he was trapped inside a rope cocoon.

'How do I wake him up? I would need to create a convincing story to trick him into revealing everything he knows…' The best story one could concoct in such a short time was the classic tale of memory loss—a simple yet potentially effective trick. Not everyone would easily believe such a narrative; they would start cross-questioning.

Considering these factors, the nameless soul began to wake the unconscious adventurer. "Hey… wake up…" Using his hand to pat the adventurer's head, he screamed again, "It's morning, wake up…" Growing frustrated, he kicked the poor adventurer, "Wakey… Wakey."

The last words worked like magic—simple yet extraordinary.

The adventurer began breathing heavily. Being deep in a cave and tied up made the situation terrifyingly claustrophobic. "Where am I???" he screamed until his voice started breaking. "Take these… these ropes out… I can't… I can't… breathe…"

"You are inside a cave with me," came a simple answer. The nameless guy, claiming to have no memories, was clearly unsure how to handle the situation.

His voice emerged directly behind the devastated adventurer. "Who are you??? Don't harm me… Please… Please…"

"Yeah… why would I harm you," he responded—a lie or a sudden change of mind, even he was unsure.

"Okay… okay…" The adventurer started negotiating. "What do you want? Money? Property? Women? What???"

'Why would I want women?' was a question he had no concept about. "Look… We… I mean… I want to talk to you. Yes… yes… I want to talk. Like friends???"

Internal thoughts raced through the adventurer's mind. 'Wait… Friend? Is he Caesar? No… is he an enemy…???' Unsure whether this was a past grudge holder or a legitimate kidnapper, he spoke hysterically, "Yeah… yeah… yeah… We can talk, my friend."

'Yesss!!! It is so easy to make friends…' No matter what, he remained naive, far removed from the world's harsh realities.

Perhaps the Darkened Shadows were people hiding their true nature behind a transparent mask and a smile. Their shadows were dark, or perhaps Darkened Shadows were a specific group—something this nameless soul could barely comprehend.

"Tell me your name, friend…"

"It's Rowan… Rowan Smith. What about you, mate???"

"Ehh… I don't have a name, mate. I lost my memories, and then I saw you. Why don't you give me a name… my friend?" His innocent eyes pleaded for an identity.

'He lost his memory… What a joke,' the adventurer thought. In this world, people were either practical or religious. Memory loss was a theatrical concept introduced by artists, making people believe such occurrences only happened in dramas, not in real life. "Yeah… why not???" He attempted to laugh.

"How about…" Rowan began but was interrupted.

"There is one problem… my hair colour is not golden. Can you make it golden? Or suggest a name for people with black hair?"

"Just one question… What is your skin colour?"

"Like brown or something."

'Shit… he is an Akarvan. This could cause a lot of trouble if I mess this up,' he carefully considered before saying, "You are an Akarvan… They are good people… like you." A lie as white as the sun's light.

"Ehh… hmm… How about Ravindra… Ravindra Chauhan? This is a good name. The Chauhans are warriors. They are great, easy to speak to."

"Ravindra Chauhan… OOOO… WOW! I have a name… YES!" The excitement came from deep inside his heart. He was about to free Rowan but stopped, realizing he had no idea how to untie the ropes, they were stuck.

"My friend, Ravindra… how about you go to the city with me? I have a house there. I'll invite you. We will have a feast," Rowan said, now seeming more in control of the conversation.

"Good idea," Ravindra responded, giggling. "I forgot… one more thing… What is magic?"

"Magic???… It's a tool. You can use it after you complete a ritual. All of them are harmless and they are outstanding… all of them."

'He doesn't know. I am the only special one in the whole world to understand that magic is not a tool, but a contract…'

"Okay… um… how about the city? What's in the city? Why does it look so big, and something shiny is also there?"

Rowan explained, "It's Ravenhold, one of the largest cities in the world. Since land prices are cheap, people buy extra land, put their cattle, and make gardens. It's one of the only cities where man and nature live together. The shiny thing is the Glass Palace of the Jarl Vondous V. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"It is… it is… Then… how do I get inside the city???"

"Simple," Rowan replied. "For noble, calm, and sweet people like Akarvans, there is only a fee of 60 crests. Then, you can get a state-recognized amulet."

"What is a crest?"

"Crests are coins, mainly made of silver, and chrysos are coins made from gold. One thousand crests are worth one chrysos. I have 200 crests with me and 2 chrysos. You can have them," Rowan offered generously.

"How much for the amulet?"

"It's free for noble people like you."

"Wow! Are there any other cities like Ravenhold?"

Internally, Rowan was conflicted. 'Come on… how many questions… How much rope did he use? I can't even move a muscle. I can either take him to the city or kill him right here, leaving no evidence. If someone were to see me, I could get into a lot of trouble.' Technically, it was a logical approach from Rowan's perspective. He could either kill this memory-loss patient or take him to the city and submit him to the guards. Killing still seemed suitable from his point of view.

"There are a lot of them," Rowan answered. "Some are even larger and more beautiful than Ravenhold. Do you want to know about all of them right now? The world is big, my friend."

"No, I guess that is enough for now. Why don't you tell me about your friends? What do they do?"

"Well, we are adventurers. We raid dungeons and kill monsters… and have fun. There's me and Radius. He's fat but good when it comes to defence. He might look heavy, but he's surprisingly fast sometimes. He likes to eat a lot. And that's it. That's my party."

"No… I saw two other adventurers with you. Two girls—one was short and had a wooden stick, and the other was tall and had a very long sword." Emotionally, he asked, "Why did you lie?"

"Ah, you got me," Rowan conceded. "They are members of the party, but they can't do much. They were with us because it's necessary to have four people in a party to enter dungeons."

"Is it necessary to have magic as well?"

"Not really. I have an affinity for light magic, but I rarely use it. The girl with the… stick, I mean… she uses magic with that 'wooden log.' That 'wooden log' is called a staff."

"Wait… so, if someone uses magic or performs a ritual, it's not a bad thing, right?"

"No, it's something we should celebrate. Successfully gaining an affinity is a great thing."

"WOW! Can I do something like that??"

"No problem! Just do it, my friend. It's not a big deal," Rowan said, unaware of the specific type of magic Ravindra was contemplating.

"Okay…" Ravindra screamed internally, 'Yesss… Dark magic… Dark magic… The cool magic.'

He grabbed the vegetable knife from the bag and began to make a cut on his hand. Then, he asked for Rowan's hand.

"Give me your hand," he said politely.

"Yeah, sure…" Rowan agreed, though suspicion ran through his heart. He couldn't recall what kind of ritual this was.

Ravindra made a deep cut on Rowan's hand. Rowan screamed, suddenly realizing this was either black magic or dark magic.

He panicked, "Stop it… Stop it…"

"Don't worry. Just let me finish," Ravindra insisted.

"No… I might die."

"So what," a plain, eerie voice echoed in Rowan's ears. Everything around him seemed to fade away. His life was slipping away with each passing second, and his body was ageing at an alarming rate.

As more mana was channelled, Rowan aged much faster. He could no longer think straight. His entire life flashed before his eyes. In just two minutes, the entire ritual was complete—two minutes for Ravindra, but years for Rowan.

Rowan's body was now bloodless. He was no longer alive. The ritual was successful.

The Dark Magic affinity was gained.

'Hahaha… magic… magic… Hehe,' Ravindra thought, racking his brain. 'How do I use it?'

The Book of Illusions' only requirement was to have Dark Magical fire—something Ravindra had no idea how to use. Beyond that, the book contained no further information about dark magic.

Expecting some dark particles to emerge from his hand, he found he could do nothing else. He wanted to discover more, to know more about magic.

Then, he realized he might have made a mistake. 'Wait… Am I being wise here? The fool shall stumble, leaving wounds of regret… No… no… I wasn't a fool. Magic is a normal thing in this world. What if it's dark or something…' He tried to justify his foolish actions, knowing that committing a crime in an unfamiliar place was the very definition of being a fool.

'Maybe I messed up. I don't want to regret…' He attempted to be wise again. 'Nobody knows this. I should bury his body, and then no one will know anything. After that, I'll go to the city, give them the money, and they'll let me in. All set…' He felt restless.

'Wait… I was ambitious when I saw Dark Magic. SHIT… What the hell… This means I was a fool and ambitious. No… this is so wrong… I will be wise from now on,' he promised himself.

'Let's take his money and these spare clothes from the bag…' There was a normal tunic, earth-toned trousers, and leather shoes.

 He dug a small pit and buried Rowan along with all of his belongings, except for the important books, and some food. He also switched to a spare pouch of coins from the fat boy's large bag, carefully hiding the original pouch. He was being extra cautious on his first trip.

He tucked the basics of the magic book into his belt, but it felt heavy, so he left it there. Taking a packet of peanuts in his hand, he began making his way to the town, constantly munching while remaining aware of his surroundings in case someone from Rowan's party came looking for him.

Ravindra walked until he realized, just a little to his right, there was a highway where many horse carriages provided transportation.

"What kind of luck do I have?" Ravindra questioned himself.

He approached one of the long horse carriages and asked about the price. It was only one crest for a 25-kilometer journey, so he took a ride.

They travelled on the dirt road and reached the city within a few hours. A massive wall stretched far into the distance, tall and constructed of brick-like stones.

Inside the city, the gate area looked beautiful, with numerous lights and houses made of stone or wood. Almost all the buildings were three stories high, with considerable space between them—though this was not the case with shops.

The huge wooden gate stood open, with numerous guards and a cluster of people trying to enter. The lines were uneven, with noticeable differences based on race. Some lines stretched up to 100 meters, while others, like the Akarvan line, were remarkably short.

"You, Akarvan—that's your line," the carriage driver said to Ravindra, pointing to the queue. Recognizing Ravindra's naive demeanour, he guided the "foolish soul" to the appropriate place.

The Akarvan line contained only five people. One Akarvan woman was slightly short on money and was collecting a single crest from everyone around her. Only one guard was stationed to collect money from this line.

Ravindra made his way to the queue, observing blonde-haired people arguing with guards about the delay. Various races were experiencing conflicts.

Amidst the chaos, a man with blonde hair, standing 5'10" tall, with a handsome face and wearing noble-like clothing, approached Ravindra and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Attention, please… Everyone, I would like to draw your attention to an important matter," the man announced. "One of my friends and the son of merchant Shirlor—an important trade business partner of our city—has been missing for 7 hours or more. He was last spotted near the D-rank dungeon. He was wearing golden armour and carrying two high-quality spears on his back. His name was Rowan Smith."

At that moment, Ravindra knew he had royally messed up. 'Ah… I messed up. They might start an investigation…' He thought he would die earlier than expected. Fear coursed through him, but his acting remained impeccable. He was panicking internally while appearing calm and collected on the outside. Emotions were his worst enemy, a fact he would never forgot.

Seeing no one offering help or information, the blonde-haired man turned directly to Ravindra. "Friend, did you see anything that could help us investigate this matter? These brutes don't even care. Do you know anything?"

"I am so sorry for your friend, but I didn't see anything that could be helpful," Ravindra responded. 

With a sigh, the man left, accompanied by a set of soldiers to search for Rowan.

While in line, Ravindra asked someone nearby, "Who was that good guy?" He learned that the man searching for his friend was the son of the city's Jarl.

All the Akarvans began praying for Rowan. Observing their actions, Ravindra mimicked them—looking up with prayer hands, asking the god to help Jarl's son find Rowan.

Ravindra felt regret. He admitted he was being a fool.