Bloody Odyssey

Chapter 86 86: City of Rose

"Why didn't you use your mounts? It would have been faster."

Madeka's voice drifted across the carriage interior, soft and curious. She sat across from Dax, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder, her crimson eyes watching him with the kind of attention most people reserved for masterpieces.

Dax didn't look away from the window.

The scenery rolled past—rolling hills, dense forests, rivers that caught the sunlight and threw it back in fragments of gold and silver. Lush. Alive. Beautiful in a way that flying through the clouds never allowed.

"There is too much on land to see," he said finally. "Flying in the air all the time gets boring."

Madeka tilted her head.

Nadia, seated beside her, said nothing. But her golden eyes also watched Dax—watched the way his gaze lingered on the passing world, watched the faint curl of his lips when something caught his interest.

---

From time to time, Dax stopped the carriage.

He would step down, walk into the grass, and chase after creatures that interested him. A bird with six wings. A serpent with scales that shifted through colors. A small, furry thing that glowed in the dark.

He didn't discriminate.

Most were low-leveled—too low to offer any real challenge and too weak to provide meaningful data. But Dax studied them anyway.

And when night fell, he cooked.

Inerous guided him at first— her patient and precise, walking him through each step. The first few attempts were disasters. Burnt meat, raw centre and seasoning that clashed rather than complemented.

But Dax learned.

Through trial and error, through burned fingers and ruined meals, he got better.

Madeka always made fun of him.

"Foodie final boss," she called him, laughing, her voice carrying across the campfire as Dax carefully turned a skewer of meat over the flames.

He ignored her.

But he kept cooking.

---

Ten days into the journey, they arrived at a small city.

The City of Roses.

Walls of pale stone rose from the earth, their surfaces covered in climbing vines heavy with crimson blooms. The gates were wrought iron, shaped into the image of intertwined thorns, and standing before them were guards clad in silver armor.

On their chests, a rose emblem was engraved.

The carriage rolled to a stop.

---

Seeing the carriage approaching from afar, the guards had known it belonged to someone prestigious. The craftsmanship alone spoke of wealth—reinforced wood, enchanted wheels, the kind of vehicle that cost more than most men earned in a lifetime.

But when the Godfall insignia came into view, their expressions changed.

"Godfall?"

The guard captain's voice was low, almost a whisper. He looked at the carriage—at the symbol painted on its side, the sigil of a falling star—like he was looking at a group of maddened murderers.

"How long has it been since I've seen one of those bloodthirsty bastards?"

The Godfall guard riding at the front of the carriage didn't bat an eye.

He reached into his pouch, pulled out a bag of coins, and tossed it at the captain's feet.

"Entrance fee."

His voice was flat uninterested. The voice of a man who had done this a hundred times and would do it a hundred more.

The captain's jaw tightened. But he stepped aside as the carriage rolled through the gates.

---

Inside the city, eyes followed them.

Citizens stopped mid-stride, their conversations dying as the carriage passed. Merchants paused in their haggling. Children were pulled behind their mothers' skirts.

The Godfall insignia carried weight—and not the good kind.

Suddenly, the carriage halted.

One of the guards—Alfonzo, a broad-shouldered man with a permanent grin—walked to the side of the carriage and knocked softly on the window.

"Young Lord."

Dax lowered the glass.

"We have arrived at that food spot I mentioned." Alfonzo pointed toward a large building further down the street, its windows glowing with warm light. A significant number of people sat inside, eating, laughing, living. "This place is called Eden. Trust me—they have some of the best dishes in the empire."

He beat his chest proudly.

"You have done well, Alfonzo."

Dax collected a pouch of coins from Nadia—she withdrew it from her ring without a word with a smile Dax gave it to the guard.

"This is for you and the boys."

Alfonzo caught it. His eyes widened his grin growing wider by the second as he checked the content.

"Thank you, Young Lord!"

He bowed his head in appreciation, then opened the carriage door.

As Dax stepped out, the other guards murmured their thanks. He waved a hand at them, dismissive but not unkind.

"No need to thank me. This is just me repaying you for your efforts over these days."

---

Inside Eden, the atmosphere changed.

Eyes followed Dax and his companions. Whispers spread from table to table, a current of unease flowing beneath the cheerful noise of the restaurant.

"Godfalls?"

"Don't tell me something is about to happen in this world…"

Some of the patrons looked worried. Memories of the past—of what Godfall had been, what they had done—rose unbidden in their minds.

None dared approach.

But their eyes lingered.

Especially on Nadia and Madeka.

The women were beautiful—strikingly, dangerously beautiful—and more than a few gazes turned lustful, hungry, stupid.

Alfonzo walked forward, directing them toward the second floor. Within seconds, he had paid for two tables and come running back with glee.

Dax took note of him.

The man's outgoing personality was impossible to ignore. Every night when they set up camp, when Dax cooked over the fire, Alfonzo would abandon his portion of dried jerky to join them. No shame nor hesitation. Just the pure, simple joy of a good meal.

Dax respected that.

---

Seated at their table, they were served.

Food and wine covered the surface—skewers of spiced meat, bowls of fragrant rice, plates of roasted vegetables glistening with oil. Dax didn't waste time. He picked up a skewer, took a bite, and chewed slowly, savoring each flavor as it unfolded across his tongue.

Madeka played with his hair from time to time, her fingers trailing through the silver strands with casual possessiveness.

Nadia hardly ate. She took occasional bites, small and measured, but her attention kept drifting—to Dax, to Madeka, to the way the other woman's hand never seemed to leave his shoulder.

"Dax."

Nadia's voice was curious.

"I don't understand. With your power, you should have transcended human limitations. Like hunger."

Dax paused mid-bite.

"Who doesn't like food, though?"

He took another bite. Chewed. Swallowed.

Nadia watched him, her mind turning.

In this world, mana can sustain a body. But Dax is different he lack mana which just makes me….

She didn't voice the thought.

But it lingered.

---

"Please! I beg you! Anyone!"

The voice cut through the restaurant like a blade—desperate, raw, cracking with grief.

"Please! Help me! Help my child!"

A woman stood near the entrance, her clothes torn, her face streaked with tears. In her arms, a small body lay still— weakly breathing—a child no older than five, his face was pale and his lips loosing its colour.

People ignored her even showing discomfort.

They turned back to their meals, their conversations, their comfortable lives. The woman was a problem a disruption not their concern.

The restaurant guards walked toward her.

"We need you to leave," one of them said, his voice flat. "You're disturbing the guests."

"Leave."

They reached for her.

Stop it.

Just then Dax set his skewer down his voice tranquil.