Raised in Dungeon

One year ago in the Barkaley region.

It was a moonlit night when Allen encountered a man who appeared to be only slightly older than himself, writhing in agony near the Barkaley Dungeon.

Unable to ignore the man's suffering, Allen lent a hand and took him to the tavern. However, upon witnessing Allen bringing the stranger into his residence, Rodion immediately got angry and forced him to take the man to the guard or church. The main reason was that the man was covered in blood despite having no significant injuries.

"I told you that you can't always help every people you see!" Rodion shouted.

"But how could I possibly turn a blind eye? He is so… shivering and frightened," Allen voiced his concerns.

"You needn't shoulder the burdens of the entire world. If you keep assisting everyone in need, there will be no end to it."

"Then what about you, master? Why did you help me that time?"

Rodion couldn't answer that...

Rodion is grappling with a complex web of emotions and thoughts. He probably knew the answer, but he couldn't put it into words, and he couldn't explain to Allen what the difference was between what he did then and what Allen was doing now.

"Anyway I don't agree to let him be here, give him your soup and get him out of here!" Rodion said as he moved away from Allen and that person.

Allen looked at the person with a pitying gaze.

'I don't know what he had gone through, but he was cold, lonely, and hungry...'

As Allen instructed the stranger to tidy up in the bathroom, an unexpected interruption occurred in the dead of night – a knock on the door.

"Yes?" Allen inquired.

Standing at the threshold was a familiar face, the gatekeeper soldier known to Allen, seated atop a horse alongside an unfamiliar fellow soldier.

"Allen, you were at the dungeon today, weren't you? Did you happen to encounter a young man around 16 years old with dark green hair? He might have had some injuries," utter the gatekeeper soldier.

Uncertain about the stranger's involvement in a potentially complicated matter, Allen replied, "I didn't see anyone like that, he lied.

The soldier, clearly frustrated, sighed, "Well, that's a tough break."

Perturbed by the situation, Allen asked, "What's going on?"

The soldier beside him, visibly agitated, promptly elaborated, "This young man is a dangerous fugitive. He escaped from our town of Druwich and is responsible for a number of deaths during the outbreak. He exploited the chaos to steal food, and in his escape, he took the lives of several more people."

"I see..."

The Druwich soldier probed further, "Are you absolutely certain you didn't see him?"

The gate soldier quickly came to Allen's defense, saying, "Hey, there's no need to doubt Allen. He's the most trusted person in this town."

Though relieved by the show of trust, Allen couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.

"Alright then, I'm sorry for the inconvenience," the Druwich soldier replied.

"Yes, don't forget to get some rest."

"That is also if I have time."

Allen closed his door and released a deep, exasperated sigh.

"I had a feeling he wasn't a good person," remarked Rodion, who had suddenly appeared. "You shouldn't have lied and should've turned him in. There's no reason to protect a prisoner."

Allen remained silent, grappling with his thoughts. He had been contemplating affording the stranger a second chance. After all, he himself had received a second chance thanks to Rodion's help.

Then… why shouldn't he extend the same opportunity to someone else? But as far as he know, Rodion always true.

"I understand, master. I'll give him to them-" Allen began to

But then, a voice echoed from the kitchen bathroom, "You're going to hand me over that soldier?" The man emerged from the bathroom, unclothed and drenched, his wetness seeping into the tavern's floor. His face bore a haunting blend of fear and desperation. Despite having taken a warm shower, his anxious and wide-eyed gaze made him appear chilled to the bone, and his unusually dark, puffy eye bags were a testament to his exhaustion.

The journey between Barkaley and Druwich, a day's ride on horseback, suggested that the man had likely traversed the distance without sustenance, evading capture by the guards. As he stood there, he couldn't help but entertain a glimmer of hope in his heart, nurtured by Allen's kindness, the nourishment he had provided, and the lie he had told to protect him.

"Please, don't report me! I promise I won't kill again! On my way here, I had to defend myself from soldiers, but it was only to escape. If I return, I'll face certain death!" he pleaded, lowering his gaze and clutching onto Allen's pants, tears streaming down his face. He cried out, "No, I don't want to die! I want to live, I still...," but his exhaustion overcame his voice, and his sobs filled the room.

Rodion looked at Allen's desperate face, with over two years of acquaintance underpinning their understanding of each other. Particularly after Allen's actions during the outbreak, Rodion had a strong sense of what the boy would decide.

Allen implored, gazing at Rodion with a mixture of uncertainty, hesitation, and hope, seeking his answer.

However, Rodion remained silent. In his view, this was a moment for Allen to make a decision for himself.

"Do what you want... But ensure my tavern remains uninvolved," Rodion said as he distanced himself from the scene, leaving the final decision in Allen's hands.

He provided the stranger with clothing and a small sum of money through the back door, instructing him to flee from Barkaley.

"Thank you, but what I need most right now is not money, but a place to hide. Can I stay here for one night?" the man implored.

"This place doesn't belong to me, and I don't have the authority to permit you to stay here. Master Rodion has already made it clear not to involve his shop, so I can't allow you to stay," Allen regretfully responded.

Desperation etched on the man's face, he inquired, "Where am I supposed to hide then?"

As Allen pondered their predicament, the distant sound of approaching horses grew louder. "Hey! They're getting closer!" he exclaimed.

Just then, another elderly gentleman passed by. "Allen, what's the matter?" he asked.

"Mr. Prey, sorry, but could you fetch the firewood next time?" Allen swiftly replied. Knowing that was when Allen chopped firewood for his tavern, Mr. Prey was a regular visitor who came nightly.

"No problem, but... is there a problem?"

Without hesitation, Allen implored, "Soldiers are pursuing this man. Can you offer him shelter for the night?"

Mr. Prey's eyes widened in shock. "This man... the one the soldiers are hunting for? Allen, why are you getting involved in this?" he scolded.

"S-sorry... I just couldn't stand by," Allen uttered.

Mr. Prey observed Allen for a few moments, recalling the numerous times Allen had lent a helping hand to the city and to him personally. In truth, it would have been unusual if Allen had ignored someone in dire need.

"Alright, but I can only hide him in my firewood shed," Mr. Prey relented.

"Thank you very much!" expressed both Allen and the fugitive in unison. In a clever ruse, the fugitive assisted Mr. Prey with carrying firewood from Allen, using it as a guise.

Meanwhile, above, Rodion, who had overheard their conversation, let out a lengthy sigh. "I hope I won't come to regret this decision," he murmured.

The sun rose the next day, starkly contrasting the dark cloud of despair that loomed over Barkaley.

The entire town was shocked upon receiving the devastating news of Mr. Prey and his wife's brutal murder in their own home. Both had been viciously attacked while they slept and their possessions, including their horse and carriage, had been stolen. Everyone was left in mourning and disbelief.

For Allen, the weight of guilt grew heavier with each passing moment. He couldn't escape the agonizing realization that his earlier decision to shelter the fugitive had unwittingly sown the seeds of this horrifying crime. As the news of Mr. Prey's murder reached his ears, he knew he had unwittingly contributed to the chain of events that led to this tragedy. A crime so heinous that it had claimed the lives of two innocent people.

With a heavy heart, Allen followed the horse tracks, his determination overshadowing the soldiers' pursuit. It took only a couple of hours to locate the fugitive, not far from the Barkaley Region.

The man was riding in Mr. Prey's stolen horse-drawn carriage, a smug smile of satisfaction etched across his face for having escaped with considerable money.

Seeing that self-satisfied smile drove Allen to act without a second thought. He leaped in front of the horse and, with a heavy heart, swiftly ended the fugitive's life by slitting his throat.

Allen's heart weighed heavy with remorse for his earlier choice and his life irreparably altered due to his initial decision to provide shelter for criminals.