Altair's body throbbed with every step, each movement sending sharp jolts of pain through his battered limbs. He dragged himself—along with the two children—toward the cluster of tents set up near the registration area. Eventually, he found a cramped space barely large enough for the three of them to squeeze into.
Staying in the forest wasn't an option—not with two children in tow. It was dangerous, cold, and filled with unpredictable threats. Even if the makeshift bedding inside the tent was little more than a thin cloth spread over dry grass, it was still far better than the frozen ground outside.
The tent was packed with other refugees, huddled together for warmth and safety. But now wasn't the time to complain. Altair needed to maintain the act of being seriously injured. He still had healing potions in his inventory, but if anyone noticed how quickly he recovered, it would raise too many questions—questions he wasn't ready to answer.
He collapsed onto his stomach with a grunt, stifling a groan as his face twisted in pain. His wounds burned, and when he summoned his status window, it confirmed what he already knew:
HP: 70 → 45
Shielded from the children's view, he flicked his fingers and summoned two items from his inventory: a healing potion and a health potion. With practiced ease, he turned away from them and drank both in swift gulps. A rush of warmth spread through his body, dulling the pain as the potions worked their magic, his wounds beginning to knit shut.
HP: 45 → 95
He blinked, slightly surprised.
One health potion restores 50 points? A faint, grateful smile touched his lips. That's better than expected.
He turned toward the children now curled beside him. Verda sat quietly, her small hands fidgeting with the edge of her oversized dress, while Alvis remained stiff and silent.
Now that they were temporarily safe, it was time to get some answers.
"I found your sister alone in the woods," Altair began softly, locking eyes with Alvis. "Do you know how dangerous that was? Something could've happened to her. Why did you leave her there alone? Don't you have any relatives?"
Alvis tensed, his small hands curling into fists.
He hadn't wanted to leave his sister. He had been worried—desperately so—but he'd had no choice. He needed to find food. Bringing her along would've been risky; their parents were still searching for them. If he was alone, he could run. If Verda was with him, they could both be caught.
He couldn't go to the government for help. If their parents were already in town and spotted them, it would be over. When Emett recruited him to help with the heist, he'd accepted immediately. He had planned to use the stolen food to bribe someone into smuggling them into the capital. They had no guardian. No household registration. So they couldn't join the group that was being transported.
At one point, he considered giving Verda to the authorities. He thought she'd be safer. But he couldn't bear to part with her. They had been through so much together. He couldn't leave her alone in this world.
He'd asked around about orphanages, but the system was bleak. Boys and girls were separated. Children weren't adopted; they were treated like labor in exchange for food. The government assigned them jobs, and they were often sent to different places depending on the task and physical condition. If he gave Verda up, they'd never be together again.
He bit his lip, staring down at the rough ground, guilt weighing heavy in his chest.
He looked at Altair, who clearly expected an answer. Alvis understood the accusation behind the man's words. He had left his sister alone—because he'd agreed to Emett's plan.
At first, he was terrified. If they got caught, he'd be separated from Verda forever. But then Emett had shown them his power—he could phase through walls like a ghost.
It stunned Alvis and the other children. It was the first time they had seen someone awakened, and to them, he looked powerful—untouchable. That gave them hope. Confidence.
The plan was simple. Emett would infiltrate the warehouse, and the others would wait outside to move the supplies he brought out. His ability had limitations—he couldn't carry large items through walls, and even small things seemed to weigh him down. Their progress was slow. Too slow. They got caught.
Another awakened person was guarding the warehouse. He felt Emett's presence. It seemed awakened individuals could sense other awakened near them—a detail they hadn't known.
Though Emett was indeed awakened, he was newly awakened and ignorant of some things. He wasn't even registered.
"I know," Alvis murmured, his voice small. "But… I didn't have a choice."
Despite his maturity, he was still an eight-year-old child—scared, burdened, and longing for protection and security.
Alvis carried the burden of protecting his sister, despite his age. He had made his decision the moment he overheard his parents talking about selling his sister. If they could do that to Verda, what would stop them from doing the same to him next?
After all, his parents… they weren't like other parents. They never saw their children as a blessing. To them, Alvis and Verda were burdens.
Altair narrowed his eyes, studying the boy. Alvis's gaze wasn't on him anymore. He was lost in thought.
"Then what about your parents?" Altair asked, voice low. "Or any relatives? Why are you two alone out here?"
Alvis didn't hesitate anymore. He was putting all his hope on Altair. He only hoped Altair would understand.
"We… we don't have parents anymore."
To him, from the moment they tried to sell Verda, his parents ceased to exist.
Altair leaned closer, his tone sharper now. "What happened to them? Did they pass away? Are you saying there's no one else?"
A beat of silence. Then—Alvis's voice cracked with anger and finality.
"…We don't have them anymore. It's just Verda and me now."
Altair studied the boy's expression. There was something fierce in it. Defiant. A line had been drawn.
A little boy and a toddler, alone… Were they abandoned? Or—
"…You didn't run away, did you?" Altair asked quietly, just guessing.
Alvis nodded.
So Altair had guessed right.
He let out a long breath. This complicated things. He had assumed that Alvis and Verda's parents were dead, that they were orphans with no one left. But this…
"Running away is a serious matter," he said after a long pause. "Did something happen at home? Did your parents hurt you?"
The answer came immediately—hoarse and raw.
"My parents wanted to sell my sister. So I took her and ran away."
Altair's expression froze.
"What?" he asked, voice sharp. "They wanted to sell her? To who?"
Altair's hands clenched, nails digging into his palms. Rage simmered beneath his skin.
He wasn't naïve—he knew some people sold children into slavery. But as a child who had his parents' love and affection, he couldn't understand how other people can stand giving their children away.
Especially in this current situation? There were actually people still buying children?
"Who?" he pressed, voice dangerously low. "Who exactly were they selling her to?"
Alvis met his eyes, fury twisting his small face.
"They… they were going to sell her to bandits," he whispered. "In the Helbei Mountains."
Altair's breath caught.
The Helbei Mountains. A cesspool of outlaws, criminals, and vagabonds.
But why would bandits be buying children? For what purpose?
Then he remembered—what the village chief had said when the bandits raided nearby settlements. They didn't just steal food and supplies. They took people, too.
And the horrifying rumors that followed…
They weren't just taken to be abused or to work for them.
The people they captured were made into food.
Yes. Those people develop a liking towards human flesh. Cannibalism.
Altair shivered as he looked at the little girl curled beside him.
Fortunately for her, she had a brave and protective brother.