Free Web NovelChapter 102: The Haunted Winterlands
Klaus walked over to the desk and he sheathed his sword with the metallic click echoing loudly in the silence.
He reached out, his fingers brushing against the rough edge of the paper as he picked it up.
The handwriting was elegant and aristocratic with flowing cursive loops that looked entirely foreign to a rugged adventurer who swung an axe for a living.
Klaus brought the paper closer to the fading light of the candle, and he began to read.
[To the Commoner,
By the time you wake up in those filthy soiled sheets, I will be miles away from this pathetic town. Do not bother looking for me. You won’t find me, and if you are stupid enough to try, the guards stationed at my estate will slaughter you before you even reach the front gates.. Let me clarify exactly who you slept with last night. I am not Taula... Taula was a fiction... She was a loud, crude, barbaric persona forced upon me as a punishment by my enemies. I am... you don’t even deserve to know my name. All you should know is that I am a woman whose bloodline is worth more than your entire miserable existence. Did you actually believe I cared about you? Did you really look at yourself in the mirror and think a peasant with a cheap iron sword could win the heart of a noble?
Last night was nothing but a momentary lapse in judgment... a final desperate attempt to relieve the suffocating boredom of this backwater town before I left and honestly? Even as a distraction, you were a massive disappointment. Your performance was laughable. Did you really think a few clumsy, desperate thrusts would be enough to bind a noble to you? You were rough, unrefined, and painfully brief. You handled me like a starving dog fighting over a scrap of meat. I faked every single moan just to speed the process up so I could finally leave. I could find better pleasure, better size, and better stamina in any cheap disease-ridden brothel in the Capital but your lack of skill in bed is nothing compared to the disgusting reality of your character.
You parade around this town acting like some heroic person but you are nothing but a spineless, manipulative coward who hides behind women. Let’s talk about the raid... Do you expect me to believe you charged into that raid out of the goodness of your heart? We both know the truth. You only saved Serra because you recognized the value of a Church healer.
You wanted to use her to cash in on a massive reward, and you wanted a free medic to keep your own worthless body breathing during dungeon raids. You don’t care about her faith or her kindness. She is just a potion dispenser to you and what about Vex and Garrick?
Do you even remember their faces? Do you even remember the names of the men who were butchered by trying to save your life? They died screaming in the dark so you could walk away with the loot... You looted their corpses and earnings without shedding a single tear and you treat your allies like disposable meat shields.
Your treatment of Mirela proves exactly what kind of monster you are. You didn’t even have a hand in rescuing that goat-eared freak... That was all me and Serra. Yet, you happily let a traumatized, broken girl... the grieving cousin of the man who died for you act as your personal, unpaid maid. You don’t sympathize with her trauma. You just like having a slave around to stroke your fragile male ego.
And then there is Zephyra. You string that delusional woman along like a lost starving puppy. There were countless occasions where you could have stopped her delusions. You could have firmly rejected her but you didn’t. You kept playing along, turning a fake engagement into a real one, simply because you enjoy the attention.
You don’t love her. You just like possessing her. How many women do you plan to manipulate, use, and hurt before your twisted pride is finally satisfied? You don’t see people as human beings, Klaus.
You see them as tools to be used, exploited, and discarded the exact second they are no longer convenient to your survival.
Look at yourself... Your looks are painfully average compared to the refined, educated men of the noble courts, your magic is crude, your manners are nonexistent. Keep the silver ring and sell it for copper if you have to but let this letter serve as your final inescapable reminder: even if you hoard all the gold in the World Dungeon, even if you buy a fake title and dress in expensive silk, a filthy, worthless commoner is all you will ever be.
L.S.]
Klaus read the final signature.
He didn’t read the letter a second time and he didn’t need to. Every single word, every jagged, toxic insult, was already permanently burned into his retinas.
Klaus stood perfectly still in the dark herb shop as the drafty wind rattled the wooden window shutters, but he didn’t hear it.
She hadn’t just insulted him... She had dismantled his entire psyche.
She had taken every single vulnerability he had... his lack of guilt over Vex and Garrick, his awkwardness with Zephyra, his protective instincts over Mirela and Serra and she had twisted them into hideous malicious accusations.
She weaponized his own party against him, framing his attempts to build a family as the actions of a sociopathic manipulator.
The heavy paper trembled slightly in his grip.
If this had happened when he first arrived in Artemis Online, he might have brushed it off. He would have viewed her as a rogue NPC betraying his party for a scripted storyline but a long time ago..., he had broken his own rules.
He had stopped viewing the world as a game. He had looked into her eyes, listened to her heartbeat, and believed with every fiber of his being that she was a real person who genuinely liked him at the very least.
He had taken down the impenetrable wall of detachment he used to survive, and he had let her inside like he did with the other girls so she had used that access to gut him.
The world had just violently... brutally reminded him of his place. This wasn’t a fairy tale... This wasn’t a romance novel where the rugged commoner wins the heart of the noble runaway...
They weren’t his friends. They were just people and people lied.
The heat in his chest... the warm comforting glow of affection and trust that had sustained him through the morning walk instantly died.
It didn’t fade away slowly; it was snuffed out like a crushed ember, replaced by a freezing, hollow void that consumed his entire nervous system.
He didn’t feel angry... He didn’t feel the sudden, burning urge to draw his sword and hack the wooden desk to pieces... He didn’t scream her name in a fit of broken-hearted rage...
He just felt numb.
Klaus loosened his grip.
The heavy paper slipped from his numb fingers. It fluttered downward, caught in the faint draft of the room and landed directly on top of the dying wax candle.
The open flame instantly caught the edge of the paper. The dry, expensive paper ignited with a bright, violent flash with the fire spreading rapidly across the cruel elegant handwriting.
Klaus stood in the dark, watching the letter burn.
The flames consumed the lies about his stamina... They consumed the accusations about Serra and Mirela... They burned right through the signature of LS... The paper curled inward, turning black and brittle, before crumbling into a pile of gray weightless ash on the wooden desk.
The last of the flame flickered out, plunging the corner of the room back into deep shadows and Klaus let out a quiet sigh.
"Fuck."
He raised his head, staring at the blank wooden wall in front of him.
His dark eyes had lost all their warmth as the glimmer of humanity and hope he had started to cultivate was entirely gone.
He had learned his lesson.
"What a wonderful gift I see..." Klaus murmured to the empty room.
He turned his back on the ashes, walked out the broken door, and stepped back into the cold morning light as it had began to rain.
[Two Weeks Later]
The northern winds at the very edge of the continent didn’t just blow; they howled.
Thick blinding sheets of snow fell endlessly from a sky the color of bruised iron, burying the small, rugged outpost town in a permanent layer of frost.
The wooden buildings leaned against each other for support as their roofs were heavy with centuries of ice.
The cobblestone streets were hidden beneath a foot of packed slush, making every step treacherous.
Inside the dimly lit, smoke-filled tavern known as The Broken Tusk, the air was suffocatingly warm.
It smelled of animal fur, cheap spiced ale, roasted meat, and unwashed mercenaries who had spent too long surviving in the cold.
Standing near the edge of the scarred wooden bar, wrapped tightly in a heavy, fur-lined travel cloak, was Mirela.
The Goat Beastkin girl kept her hands tucked deep into her pockets, trying to stop her fingers from shivering.
She wasn’t looking at the drunk adventurers playing cards in the corner, and she wasn’t looking at the roaring hearth fire that dominated the center of the room.
Her wide, nervous eyes were fixed entirely on her Master.
Klaus leaned casually against the wooden bar counter.
He was wearing a thick, dark winter coat over his usual combat trousers with an iron sword strapped securely to his hip.
He didn’t look cold. In fact, he looked entirely unfazed by the oppressive freezing environment of the northern outpost.
Mirela watched him drum his fingers in an upbeat rhythm against the wood with a relaxed easy smile resting on his face.
It had been exactly fourteen days since Taula vanished...
Two weeks since the boisterous, blond-haired warrior had disappeared into the night without a single word of farewell...
The aftermath of that morning had fundamentally shifted the gravity of their entire party.
Mirela remembered the confusion, the sudden panic, and the frantic trip to the Galen Adventurer’s Guild...
Zephyra had demanded the Guildmaster track Taula’s location using her registration card and paying for it.
The Guildmaster had brought out the crystalline tracking ledger, only to shake his head in defeat. Taula’s Guild Card had been forcefully shattered with her magical signature was erased from the network.
Officially, the A-rank Adventurer had simply ceased to exist.
Everyone in the Forest-Edge Compound had been deeply affected by the sudden abandonment.
Taula had been the loud, beating heart of their group.
Serra had cried in the kitchen, mourning the loss of her friend while Zephyra had paced the hallways for three days straight while Mirela herself had spent hours polishing the moon-crystal staff Klaus bought her, missing the loud cheerful woman who used to playfully put her in headlocks.
But it was her Master who was affected the most.
Mirela remembered the exact moment Klaus had returned from the commercial district that morning and he had walked through the front doors, and his dark eyes were different.
They were completely empty.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t join the search parties Zephyra tried to organize, and he didn’t shed a single tear...
He just offered a blank, cheerful smile, told them Taula had moved on, and ordered them to focus on their training.
Mirela had watched him closely over the past two weeks. Klaus seemed to be happier.
He smiled more often, he laughed at things that weren’t particularly funny, and his posture was always relaxed but it wasn’t real happiness. Mirela wasn’t an expert on the human mind, but she knew what a broken soul looked like.
This wasn’t joy. It was a deep terrifying depression masking itself as manic, detached cheerfulness.
Her Master had retreated entirely into a shell...
He didn’t see the party as a family anymore.
He had stopped asking Serra about her books... He stopped entertaining Zephyra’s romantic advances or getting flustered by her teasing... He just gave them orders, paid for their meals, and kept moving forward like a machine running on a set program.
Eventually, the party had to split.
Three days ago, a royal missive arrived for Zephyra finding her somehow. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
The disguised princess was forced to return to the Capital to manage a sudden political shift regarding her family’s territory.
The very next morning, Serra received a mandatory summons from the Grand Church, requiring her to travel to the Capital’s headquarters for a senior healer evaluation.
The two older girls had packed their bags, leaving for the Capital together in a rented carriage.
Klaus had smiled, waved them off at the station, and promised he would stay in Galen Town to manage more of his resource dungeons until they returned.
The exact second their carriage disappeared over the horizon, Klaus had turned to Mirela with his smile never wavering and told her to pack her heaviest winter clothes.
They weren’t staying in Galen... They were heading to the one of the deadliest, most lethal zones on the entire continent.
"Hey, barkeep," Klaus called out as the bartender, who was a massive scarred man missing his left eye, turned around.
He wiped a dirty rag across the counter, glaring down at the young swordsman. "What do you want, outlander?"
"Cigarettes," Klaus said, pulling a few copper coins from his spatial ring and sliding them across the wet wood. "And a mana lighter... The good stuff, don’t skimp on me."
The bartender grunted, sweeping the coins into his thick palm.
He reached under the counter and tossed a small, rectangular paper box and a metallic cylinder onto the bar.
Klaus picked up the box as he peeled the paper seal back with his thumb, pulling out a thin white cigarette.
He turned his head, looking down at the goat-horned girl standing beside him and he extended the open box toward her.
"Want one?" Klaus asked casually.
Mirela blinked, taking a quick step back. freewebnσvel.cøm
She shook her head rapidly with her ears drooping.
"No, thank you, Master. Putting foreign, combustible mana directly into the lungs is very bad for your health. Serra told me it rots the chest and shortens your lifespan."
Klaus let out a short breezy laugh as he shrugged his shoulders, pulling his hand back without a second thought.
"Suit yourself," Klaus smiled. "More for me."
He placed the cigarette between his lips.
He flicked the metallic cylinder with his thumb and a tiny spark of condensed fire mana ignited at the tip.
He held the magical flame to the end of the cigarette, inhaling deeply as the tip glowed a bright angry orange, and Klaus exhaled a thick gray cloud of sweet-smelling smoke into the air above them.
"We are about to head into Eternal Winter anyway," Klaus noted, taking another slow drag. "A little fire in the lungs will do us some good."
He wasn’t exaggerating.
They were currently standing in the final civilian outpost before the Haunted Winterlands.
The Winterlands weren’t just a snowy forest you could walk into; they were contained entirely within a massive swirling spatial portal located just outside the town limits.
It was a chaotic high-level danger zone where the environment itself was actively hostile... even the most experienced, veteran mages and heavy-armored swordsmen routinely entered the portal and never came back out.
But Klaus didn’t look worried.
He looked like a man about to go for a casual stroll through a park.
The one-eyed bartender leaned his heavy forearms against the counter, eyeing Klaus with a mixture of pity and annoyance.
"You’re planning on going through the gate?" the bartender asked, his gruff voice lowering to a warning register. "Just the two of you? A skinny swordsman and a demi-human maid?"
"That’s the plan." Klaus nodded, tapping the ash from his cigarette onto the wooden floor.
"You’re going to die," the bartender stated bluntly, crossing his massive arms. "The Haunted Winterlands aren’t a playground for rookies looking for rare monster cores. It’s a graveyard. The lore says a powerful, ancient being... a corrupted god or a frost dragon died in the center of that realm centuries ago. Its rotting magic cursed the entire space. The cold in there doesn’t just freeze your skin; it eats your soul. The monsters are made of living ice. I strongly advise you to turn around and—"
"Shut it," Klaus interrupted as the tavern went quiet for a brief second.
Klaus didn’t raise his voice, but the sudden words made the man freeze..
His cheerful smile remained perfectly fixed on his face, but his dark eyes were completely dead as they locked onto the bartender’s remaining eye.
"Just do your job and serve the drinks," Klaus told the massive man. "I didn’t pay you for a history lesson."
The bartender stiffened.
His survival instincts, honed from years of living on the edge of a death zone flared violently. He recognized the look in the young man’s eyes.
It was the look of someone who had absolutely nothing left to lose, and absolutely no regard for human life.
The bartender slowly backed away from the counter, raising his hands in a silent surrender, deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble.
Klaus took one final deep drag of his cigarette. He tossed the remaining stub onto the wooden floor, crushing the ember beneath the heel of his heavy combat boot.
He turned away from the bar and looked at Mirela.
"Let’s go..." Klaus said cheerfully.
Mirela gulped, nodding her head quickly. She followed close behind him as he pushed through the crowded tavern, ignoring the hostile stares of the mercenaries around them.
They pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped back out into the freezing, snow-swept streets of the outpost.
The wind whipped Mirela’s dark hair around her face, stinging her cheeks with tiny shards of ice.
As they walked down the frozen cobblestone path, they passed by the large, polished glass window of an apothecary shop.
Klaus suddenly stopped walking.
He turned his body, facing the dark glass. The window acted like a mirror, reflecting his tall frame, his heavy winter coat and his relaxed expression.
Mirela stopped a few feet away, watching him in confusion.
Klaus stared at his own reflection for a few seconds then, his smile widened. He raised both of his hands, pointing his index fingers directly at the glass like twin pistols.
He gave his reflection a confident wink and clicked his tongue against his teeth.
Click Click!
"Looking good today, handsome," Klaus said aloud to his reflection. "Ready to kill some people?"
