After surviving a series of terrifying incidents that nearly claimed his life, all Lucas wanted now was rest.
For the past two days, he had done practically nothing—not just because he was still recovering, but also because there simply wasn't much to do while riding on this wagon.
The group he had joined turned out to be villagers from a remote settlement. Lately, their home had been frequently attacked by monsters and wild beasts. Feeling unsafe, they decided to abandon the village and head for the city.
They had actually reported their situation to the kingdom, but no response ever came. They even managed to hire a few Mages by pooling money from everyone in the village. Unfortunately, those Mages vanished after entering the forest to investigate the source of the attacks.
Not long after the Mages went missing, the village was raided by hundreds of goblins. That night was a massacre—more than half the villagers were killed. Though they managed to repel the attack, the cost was far too high. In the end, they had no choice but to leave behind the place they once called home.
Lucas had heard this story from Mark, a well-built man in his mid-twenties who had approached him shortly after he regained consciousness a few days ago. Mark seemed curious about Lucas's past and how he ended up collapsed on the roadside, but Lucas hadn't shared anything—and he had no intention of doing so.
He glanced around at the others in the wagon and sighed.
'Every single one of them… they've all lost someone important.'
The group had four simple wagons to carry the remaining villagers. Lucas was riding in the last one.
It had been three days since they left their village. Their destination was Halewind City, a fairly large settlement in the Kingdom of Cabelion—the kingdom Lucas currently found himself in.
Whenever they passed through a village, the caravan would stop to rest. But the villages they visited were suffering the same fate: monster attacks were becoming more frequent. Almost every night, something came. It felt never-ending.
From the stories he'd heard during the journey, Lucas began to notice a strange pattern. Monster attacks had spiked around two months ago. Goblins were the most common attackers, usually in small groups. But the oddest part was that they rarely killed many people—more often than not, they abducted women.
"That's… not right, is it? This isn't Goblin S****r world," Lucas muttered, quickly shaking off the dark thought.
A dagger appeared in his hand—beautiful, glowing faintly with a blue magical pattern. He still couldn't believe how many times this weapon had saved his life. Lucas studied the blade closely, running his fingers along the edge.
At the same time, he checked his Blood Essence progress.
---
Godslayer's Successor
Name: Lucas Sinclair
Blood Core: 1/7
Blood Essence: 1,215 / 2,456
Inheritance Progress: 6%
Class: Blood Master
Skills: [Blood Extraction] [Burning Blood] [Blood World]
---
At first, Lucas had been shocked to see how much his Blood Essence had increased. Last time he checked, it had only been around 270. Now it had nearly quadrupled.
"Did I manage to extract James's blood before passing out? Yeah… that must be it."
Thanks to that, he could finally relax, no longer fearing a return to the weakened state he'd once been in.
The sky had begun to dim, fading into hues of golden-orange as night crept closer. The air turned cooler, wrapping their journey in the calm of dusk. Fortunately, they arrived at a village just before darkness fell.
It looked like any other quiet place—peaceful, untouched, with no signs of recent attacks. Modest wooden homes lined the dirt path, oil lamps flickering one by one on porches. Thin trails of smoke rose from chimneys, carrying the comforting aroma of homecooked meals.
Lucas scanned the area carefully, alert for anything unusual. But everything seemed… normal. Too normal. Which made him uneasy—but also a bit relieved.
"This place feels too peaceful," he muttered under his breath, eyes still darting across the quiet corners of the village.
They stepped down from the wagons and began walking slowly along the main road. A few villagers passed by, most of them busy closing their stalls or carrying baskets of harvested crops. Some glanced at the caravan, but only briefly. They all seemed in a hurry to finish their work before nightfall.
It didn't take long for Lucas to notice something was off. Despite the seemingly cheerful pace of their work, there was a heaviness in the villagers' expressions—as if they were hiding something they couldn't put into words.
'Is it just my imagination?' he wondered.
A middle-aged man with worn but tidy clothes approached them, holding a small lantern and wearing a warm smile.
"Good evening. You must be travelers," he greeted, his voice deep but friendly. "Looking for a place to stay?"
Grandma Martha—the elderly woman who had first checked on Lucas when he was found—spoke on behalf of the group.
"If there's a place we can spend the night, we'd be very grateful."
The man pointed down the road toward a wooden building slightly larger than the others.
"Follow me then. That's a little inn my wife and I built. I hope it'll be comfortable enough for all of you."
Grandma Martha nodded and thanked him quietly before continuing on. Only recently did Lucas learn that she was the village chief of their group. Without another word, the thirty-seven members of the caravan followed the man.
Despite the calm surroundings, Lucas remained on edge. His survival instincts refused to rest. He knew all too well—in a world like this, peace was often just a thin veil.
---
After using the bathroom, Lucas made his way to the room he'd rented. Unlike the rest of the group—who had pooled resources to rent a few large shared rooms—Lucas had chosen to get a private one for himself.
Luckily, that elf had left a single gold coin in his clothes. Without it, he really would've been reduced to a beggar.
Not that Lucas resented it. That elf had saved his life and even healed his wounds. Treatment like that couldn't have been cheap. Everything Lucas had on him at the time wouldn't have come close to covering the cost.
That's why he didn't complain about being left on the roadside with nothing. He was just grateful to be alive, wearing clothes on his back and carrying one last coin.
As soon as he entered the room, Lucas dropped onto the bed and closed his eyes.
Not even a minute passed before the sudden sound of a woman's scream and her desperate sobbing—echoed from outside the inn.