Path of the Extra

Alarm bells instantly rang in Azriel’s mind as he instinctively put his full guard up against the old woman, who only smiled kindly at him.

What surprised Azriel wasn’t the fact that she knew about the mark hidden beneath the bandages on his left arm—the ones she had clearly replaced while he was unconscious. No, what truly unsettled him was that this old woman seemed to know exactly what the mark meant: that it belonged to one of the children of the gods.

The old woman’s smile turned wry, and she spoke hurriedly, trying to ease his growing suspicion.

“The only reason I recognize the mark, my lord,” she said gently, “is because it reminds me of the one the King himself bears. Though not identical… it is similar enough. Just as the royal family has been blessed and supported by a god for centuries—the one blessed ascends the throne of Ismyr—you too are clearly a royal… a prince from far, far away, watched over by either a guardian angel or a demon.”

Despite her soothing words, Azriel’s expression remained guarded. Yet inwardly, he could not hide his shock.

‘…A god protecting the royal family? One of the Ten Gods?… No—this world is different. The rules might be different too… or maybe the gods simply don’t care anymore.’

It wasn’t that hard for Azriel to believe. The rules… they were never truly respected. The gods, the apostles—they stopped caring long ago. At least… that’s how it had always seemed. Maybe, once upon a time, there had been honor. Maybe once… but not anymore.

And if the rules were the same here, in this strange world, then surely this wasn’t that “certain point” in history when they had been honored.

‘But if the royal family truly has the backing of a god… how could they ever fall to the Revolutionary Army?’

No—would such a thing even happen? Azriel didn’t know. He knew nothing about this scenario, nothing about who would win—if either side could win at all.

Trying to steady the tremor in his voice, Azriel asked the one question burning in his chest:

“…What is it you want?”

The old woman blinked, tilting her head slightly.

“I apologize, my lord, but… what do you mean?”

Still watching her with cautious, untrusting eyes, Azriel didn’t mince his words.

“You’ve taken care of me for two months—someone you didn’t even know. You’ve heard the rumors, seen the bounty placed on me. You know what I am. You could have turned me in, killed me, yet you did nothing but care for me. While you have my gratitude… please tell me clearly: what is it that you want from me?”

The old woman’s smile only softened.

“…My lord, there is nothing I wish from you.”

Azriel’s single eye grew cold as ice.

“Don’t lie to me. Everything has a price.”

“And what if I told you,” she said calmly, “that I have no wish, no desire, no need for any price?”

“Then you are lying.”

“But I am not.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

Azriel said nothing more aloud, but inwardly, doubts churned in him like a storm. He knew nothing about her. Why would an old woman live alone, deep in a forest, offering the only bed in her cabin to a stranger? Why risk her life for someone like him?

Nothing made sense.

“…Is it so difficult to believe, my lord,” she said softly, “that it was simply done out of kindness?”

Azriel’s eye widened slightly at her words. Then, narrowing again, he replied even more coldly:

“Yes.”

“And yet, it remains the truth.”

“…That is bullshit.”

“Not everyone in this world demands something in return for a moment of kindness, my lord.”

Azriel stared at her in silence. And still—she smiled at him, warmly, almost sadly.

“I am merely an old woman,” she said, her voice low and quiet, “at the final stretch of her life. I live here alone, in seclusion, because I have already lived a full and happy life. There is nothing more I wish for… except to pass away peacefully.”

Azriel’s throat tightened. Gripping the blanket wrapped around him, he failed to hide the faint tremor in his hands as he whispered:

“…I’m sorry. But I can’t trust you.”

“That’s fine, my lord.

Her smile never once wavered.

“But… there is one thing I should correct you on.”

Azriel didn’t speak. He simply watched her.

“You might indeed be the child of a god. Your mark may be ominous. The rumors may be insidious. But there is only one real reason I took care of you.”

Without warning, her frail, bony finger pressed softly against his chest, near where his mana core is.

“They call these woods the Forest of Eternity. No matter who enters—void creature, beast, or man—if they set foot into this forest, they will wander endlessly, never finding their way back… never finding a way out.”

Azriel’s eye widened in shock.

“But then how—”

Before he could finish, she poked his chest again, her voice even softer than before.

“Only those recognized by the Guardian of the Forest of Eternity—those with a pure and kind heart—can find their way… to me.”

“…!”

“And leave.”

For a moment, Azriel stared at her with a blank expression before letting out a dry laugh. He covered his face with the four fingers remaining on his left hand.

“You… you really are just a crazy old hag.”

“M-My lord…?”

A bewildered expression spread across her face as she blinked rapidly at him.

“Pure? Kind? Don’t make me laugh!” Azriel spat.

“The only thing you know about me are those rumors—and none of them are good. Rumors don’t just appear out of thin air; they always have a foundation. There’s a reason my body is the way it is now. You see this creepy mark on my arm and know it must belong to a god, one more terrifying than most. The very first second I encountered you, I pulled a weapon on you and would have shot if I hadn’t passed out! What kind of delusion possessed you to think—even for a fraction of a second—that I’m someone pure and kind-hearted?”

Azriel glared at her with his single eye, yet the old woman simply continued to look at him with that same bewildered expression.

“…My lord, you…” She hesitated, then smiled softly.

“You’re the type who denies a lot of himself, aren’t you?”

“Huh?”

Azriel’s face twisted at her words.

“Even your emotions,” she said.

“I can see the anger and frustration you’re holding back. You must desperately want to kill the Immortal Eyepatch, or the vice-captain of the Royal Knights… maybe even both. You’re in an extreme hurry. But as I said, my lord, in your current condition, you can’t even walk properly—let alone cast any magic. The second you leave this forest, you’ll die.”

Azriel gritted his teeth at her words.

“Your mind and body need rest, my lord,” she continued, her voice calm and firm.

“At the very least, until the aftereffects of the Dark Basilisk’s blood have worn off. You can stay here as long as you need—even longer, if you wish.”

Then, suddenly, she smiled—and that smile sent an involuntary tremor through Azriel’s body.

“Believe it or not,” she said lightly, “I’m actually a Grade Two Advanced. So I would appreciate it if you would obediently stay and recover properly.”

Azriel’s face darkened.

Of course he knew that. He had known from the beginning she was an Advanced. In his current state, she could easily kill him if she wanted to—and yet she hadn’t.

Azriel bit his lip and looked down, his hair falling over his eye.

‘…What the hell am I doing…’

Arguing with her… wasting energy he didn’t have…

His head felt like it was turning into a chaotic mess again.

Honestly, he didn’t even have the strength left to fight her—not with words, and certainly not with actions.

“You can rest assured, my lord,” she said warmly.

“As long as you are in this cabin—no, in this forest—you will be safe from any harm or danger.”

She leaned forward. Before Azriel could react, he felt her hand settle gently atop his head, patting it.

Azriel blinked, stunned into silence, as her hand lingered for a moment before she stood up and turned away.

Wordlessly, he watched her carry the bag of bread over to another table. She bent down, picked up some firewood stacked beneath it, and walked toward the fireplace, throwing the wood into the flames.

Azriel let out a quiet, exhausted sigh.

“…What is your name?” he muttered quietly.

Without turning around, as she lifted an iron pot and hung it over the fire, she answered in an energetic voice.

“Mio, my lord. Just Mio.”

Azriel stared at her back with a still-dissatisfied expression. Finally, he turned his face aside.

“…Then I will be in your care, Lady Mio.”

She chuckled softly.

“Likewise, my lord.”

And just like that…

Azriel’s recovery in the Forest of Eternity began.