A man stood in the heart of a vast forest, where tall, dense trees surrounded him like a silent wall.
He wore a dark, simple shirt—clean and well-tailored—with a few buttons left open at the collar, revealing a lean, well-trained chest. His black trousers were fitted for movement, as if designed not for display, but for battle. A worn leather belt rested at his waist, the sheath of his sword hanging quietly at his side.
His long red hair swayed gently in the forest breeze, falling over his shoulders—a vivid contrast to his dark clothing. But his black eyes held no emotion; the eyes of someone who knew neither rest nor the meaning of peace.
Six goblins had surrounded him.
Three of them raised their rusted knives at the same time, letting out savage screams as they charged.
The man calmly drew his sword. Without the slightest hint of urgency, he stepped forward—as if he weren't surrounded at all, but simply taking a walk.
As the goblins closed in and lunged to strike—
A short, bored sigh escaped him.
His cold gaze swept over them.
"Ridiculous."
He raised his sword and, with complete indifference, delivered a single strike.
The three goblins didn't even have time to react—their bodies were torn apart midair, the pieces crashing to the ground with dull thuds.
The man cast a brief, indifferent glance at the remains and muttered under his breath:
"This is boring… once more, no decent prey."
The remaining three goblins froze in terror. Then, with panicked screams, they turned and fled.
The man tilted his head slightly and extended his left hand toward them.
In front of him, three swords of ice formed in midair—clear, cold, and deadly.
"You blocked my path yourselves… and now you think you can just run away?"
With a simple flick of his hand—
The ice swords shot forward.
They pierced through the goblins' bellies with sharp, chilling cracks.
Three short screams echoed through the forest—
And their bodies collapsed to the ground, one after another.The forest sank back into silence—
Until a furious woman's voice suddenly rang out.
"Are you insane?! Pay attention, you idiot!"
A burst of golden light erupted from the man's body, and a beautiful woman emerged from it. Her long golden hair rippled through the air, her eyes—shimmering somewhere between silver and white—gleamed softly, and her flowing blue dress draped elegantly over her figure. A faint golden halo circled her body.
With an irritated scowl, she stepped forward and smacked him hard on the head.
"If those had hit their hearts, the mana cores would've been destroyed—and the kill reward would've gone to waste! How many times do I have to tell you? Don't destroy the mana cores! Be more careful—otherwise I won't get to eat my favorite sweets! Is that really so hard to understand, you idiot?!"
The man fixed her with a cold stare.
"Hit me on the head one more time, and you won't get a single sweet for a month."
Ignoring her protests, he sat down on the ground. He pushed his sword forward, split open the goblins' chests, and carefully extracted the magical crystals embedded in their hearts one by one.
"I'm sorry, Lioran—but you have no right to speak to a great and noble spirit like that. Especially one as beautiful and kind as me.The Great and Noble Spirit, Anahita"
Anahita continued complaining as she circled around him.
"You're such an idiot for not appreciating me—and for always threatening me with food. If anyone else had me instead of you, they'd be feeding me at least six meals a day by now. Meat, sweets… everything."
As always, Lioran showed no reaction. He pulled out two green crystals and reached for the third. Without even glancing at her, his cold, even voice cut through the air:
"What kind of 'kind spirit' hits people on the head and constantly talks about how noble and beautiful she is? And since when do spirits eat food?"
A slow smile spread across Anahita's face—one that carried less confidence and more pure self-admiration. She lifted her chin slightly; her long golden hair rippled in the dim forest light, and the faint golden aura around her brightened.
With a voice full of pride and satisfaction, she said:
"I can do all of that… because I'm special. Very special. So you should accept it without complaint—and be grateful you have me."
Lioran didn't even look away from the corpses. His sword was still smeared with the goblins' dark blood. He knelt down, split open the third goblin's chest, and carefully pulled a small green crystal from between flesh and bone.
For a brief moment, the crystal glinted in the dim forest light.
He slipped it into his pocket alongside the other two, then rose calmly and walked toward the three goblins he had struck down with his ice swords.
Without the slightest change in his cold expression, he spoke:
"I'd be grateful… if you talked a little less."
That was enough.
Anahita's expression darkened instantly. The golden light around her flickered as she shot toward him in a sharp blur. She hooked her legs around his neck, settled onto his shoulders, and locked herself in place.
Then, with both of her small fists, she started pounding his head again and again.
"Are you insane?! You crazy Lioran!"
The blows kept raining down—more irritating than painful.
"You ungrateful bastard! If you didn't have me, who would you even talk to?! And the food you never eat—who were you planning to give that to?!""
Lioran merely clenched his teeth, drew in a slow breath, and let her fists fall— as if even this had become just another part of his daily routine.
When he reached the bodies of the remaining goblins, he caught Anahita's fists mid-swing and gently held them in place. Then he tilted his head back, looking up so he could meet her gaze.
His voice, when he spoke, was tired—but honest.
"I wouldn't give my food to anyone. Why would I? You're the one who always makes me give it to you.
It's been so long I don't even remember what meat or cake tastes like… because I keep handing control of my body over to you so you can eat instead. If anyone's ungrateful here… it's you."
Anahita knew he was right.
She fell silent for a moment.
Her gaze drifted to the side. She pressed her lips together, then let out a soft whistle—one that sounded less like indifference and more like an attempt to avoid the topic.
Then, in a quiet, stubborn murmur, she said:
"Well… that's because I'm a great spirit."
Lioran knelt down again, extracting the remaining crystals.
"You don't even believe that yourself."
Suddenly, the distant sounds of battle reached his ears.
"Why wouldn't I believe it? I'm as grand as a giant and as special as an angel—"
Anahita was still boasting when Lioran suddenly pressed a finger to his lips.
"Shh."
Without another word, he shot to his feet and dashed toward the source of the noise.
"Hey! Where the hell are you going?! What's gotten into you?!"
Anahita screamed in panic, tugging hard at his head.
"Take my mana cores with you! Don't you dare leave them behind! Don't tell me you're skipping my sweets again tonight?! My precious mana cores—hey, stop! Nooo!"
Fuming, Anahita grabbed his face with both hands and pulled with all her strength, refusing to let him keep his balance.
Lioran showed no reaction, completely ignoring her nonstop whining. Without warning, he suddenly accelerated, surging upward.
A fierce wind lashed against his clothes as he closed in on the sounds of battle.
After roughly thirty seconds of flight, the scene below came into view.
Amid shattered trees and mud-soaked ground, six massive orcs—dark green-skinned, with protruding tusks—swung their huge, rusted swords at a pack of wolves.
The wolves leapt and howled, but one by one, they fell beneath the orcs' crushing blows.
Blood soaked into the forest floor, and the sharp scent of iron filled the air.
At the sight, a calm, satisfied smile spread across Anahita's face.
Her eyes gleamed, and her voice suddenly softened, turning bright and cheerful.
"Well… why didn't you just say from the beginning you found something good for me? If you had, I wouldn't have gotten this mad. Honestly… you're so dense. You really are an idiot."
She slid down from Lioran's shoulders, descending weightlessly—like light slipping through air. She drifted toward the orcs, completely unnoticed.
Leaning in close to one of them, her face near its chest—right where the heart pulsed—she slowly traced her hand over it, a childlike delight flickering in her eyes.
A strange, entranced smile spread across her lips.
"Ah… my precious mana cores…"
Then she drifted between the dying wolves and the orcs, as if wandering through a garden in full bloom.
"Tonight, I'm going to have a proper feast. I'll buy every kind of sweet… chocolate cake, fruit cake, cream cake… ahh, I'll taste every single one…"
Watching her, Lioran let out only a quiet sigh.
Moments later, after the orcs finished off the last wolf, Lioran sensed another presence—something that had remained hidden until now. His cold eyes fixed on the shadows between the trees.
A two-headed orc slowly emerged from the darkness.
Its body was enormous, packed with muscle. Each head moved independently: one scanned the area with a brutal, merciless gaze, while the other wore a crooked, animalistic grin, showing off yellow teeth. Its heavy breathing echoed through the forest like a low growl, and even the other orcs instinctively kept their distance.
Without question, this creature would have been a true nightmare for most warriors— But Lioran merely gave it a brief glance.
No fear. No excitement. Just a cold, precise evaluation.
To him, the orc looked more like oversized prey than a dangerous enemy.
'Finally…'