Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER FOUR

The Chainrunners' Legacy

Elina had spent the previous evening reviewing countless customs and expectations for us to follow inside the library and in front of the people selected for the class. Even though I understood how crucial it was to make what she called a "good impression," I found myself surprisingly eager for the class itself, more than worried about decorum.

Early in the morning, we left the cramped living quarters, Meris and I trailing behind Elina. This time, I wore the fine, short-sleeved clothes that Elina and Jharim had bought for me. The fabric felt strange against my skin—smooth and new, so unlike the patched rags I typically wore. As we approached the library from the main street, I spotted a handful of people already gathered in front of the imposing stone building.

Well, at least some of them were here. The others would likely arrive soon. A chill breeze rustled the leftover frost on the cobblestones, reminding me that winter was not fully gone.

"You all arrived early. There are still fifteen minutes before the class starts," Elina said jovially, greeting the small group.

"Greetings, Master Elina. It is a pleasure to be under your tutelage," a blond young man replied, stepping forward with a measured confidence. He had a few years on me, judging by his voice and the set of his shoulders. I also noticed right away that he was not skinny in the slightest.

It was a strange sight, because most people I had seen in this part of the district were gaunt from hunger. Yet this blond youth had muscle clinging to every inch of him, though he was not particularly tall or broad. Somehow, his frame managed to appear both lithe and powerful.

"Wonderful to meet you. You must be Tarin Blackthorn," Elina said, extending her hand for a handshake.

I felt a moment of self-consciousness as I glanced down at my own outfit. Tarin's clothing was black and tailored to perfection, designed to allow free movement around the limbs. Most noticeable was the fact that nothing appeared patched or mended. He was not alone in wearing such pristine attire; the other students, the ones who had already arrived, seemed similarly dressed. But identifying Tarin took no effort, his name was literally stitched onto his shirt in neat silver thread.

I remembered that Tarin's mother was the Captain of the Chainrunners, the one who had specifically recommended me for this advanced class. Her word held so much weight in the district that I doubted I could have refused, even if I had wanted to. That thought made my heart flutter with a sense of obligation. I had not even properly met Tarin, yet I already felt as though I owed him a favor. My only hope was that his mother did not plan on making me a Chainrunner against my will.

Tarin clasped Elina's hand firmly, then said, "Great to meet you too. I should mention, I hope you will not think my education is lacking. I am known for practicing swordsmanship all day, but I assure you my foundations are solid. Several members of my family have taught me a good deal about history and more."

"I am glad to hear it," Elina replied, her voice warm. "And you need not address me as 'Master' the way you do your other tutors. Please, call me 'Teacher Elina.'"

"Understood, Teacher Elina," Tarin agreed, releasing her hand with a polite nod.

Just then, two more people approached from the edge of the courtyard—a boy and a girl who immediately caught my eye. They carried themselves with a quiet confidence that suggested a disciplined upbringing, and I realized they were the son and daughter of the city guard's Captain.

The boy, a bit older than Tarin, shared that same solid, muscular build. The girl beside him, clearly quite beautiful, also showed no sign of the thinness I was used to seeing. Her arms, while slender, appeared toned, and the posture she maintained spoke of rigorous training. Their father must have put them both through daily drills.

Not that surpassing my physique was a challenge. I found myself glancing down at my own spindly arms, no more than two sticks attached to my torso, and I marveled at how different we all were.

"Nice to meet you as well, Elina," the older boy said, projecting his voice with controlled precision. "I am Cedric Highrow, and this is my sister, Hana Highrow." Hana offered a small greeting of her own, her eyes flicking curiously from Meris to me.

Elina gave them a welcoming smile, then gestured between them and Meris. "This is my daughter, Meris," she announced. Meris peeked out from behind Elina's shoulder, her cheeks tinted pink. "Go on, Meris, introduce yourself."

"Nic... Nice to meet you," Meris managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I hope we, ah, have a great class today." After that, she immediately retreated behind Elina again, obviously overwhelmed by the Highrows' imposing presence.

Watching her, I realized these three, the Blackthorn youth and the Highrow siblings, might look intimidating to Meris, and they probably should intimidate me too. But as I recalled the nights I had spent under the open sky, half-frozen, trying to survive on scraps of food, a calm certainty formed in my mind. Whatever these well-trained, well-fed elites might threaten me with, it likely was not any worse than the brutal hunger and cold I had already endured. That silent reasoning brought me a certain degree of confidence.

"Yeah, he is like that sometimes," Elina was saying. She cast me an amused look and addressed the group. "He is not being rude, he just daydreams a lot."

I blinked, realizing Meris was nudging me from the side. I must have zoned out, staring at them without uttering a word.

"Hey there, sorry about that," I said at once, shifting on my feet. "I am…" I hesitated. Something stuck in my throat. I had no name—no real one, anyway.

Because everyone just called me "The Bad Omen."

Any official record of my real name had been lost along with District 7. That included everything about my family, if I had one. Perhaps they had existed, once. But as far as anyone here knew, it was all gone.

Years ago, soon after I arrived, Meris had started calling me "Omen." She had heard the adults refer to me as The Bad Omen, yet she probably had not fully understood what the word meant. She simply dropped the negative part. Since I never complained, it stuck. Elina and Jharim picked it up occasionally too, though they tried to avoid it. They certainly did not think I was an ill portent.

"Ohoa," Meris said, suddenly leaning in and poking my cheek. "You are daydreaming again," she teased.

I apologized to the others, realizing I had fallen silent a second time. "Sorry about that," I murmured, glancing at Tarin and Cedric, then at Hana. "It is just that…" I fumbled, not quite sure how to phrase the truth.

But Tarin beat me to it. "You are The Bad Omen, right?" he asked, his tone surprisingly neutral. "The one who walked through the fog from District 7 alone, at four years old—did not run, just walked all the way here?"

Before I could answer, Meris let out a sharp retort. "Shut up! He is not The Bad Omen. He is just Omen," she insisted, cheeks aflame with indignation. Gone was her shyness. She glared at Tarin Blackthorn, clearly prepared to defend me.

Surprised at her outburst, Tarin took a step back. Cedric and Hana exchanged glances, eyebrows raised at the small girl who was suddenly standing her ground. I felt a surge of gratitude toward Meris, even if I was quite used to the nickname by now.

"Omen, that is it?" Tarin asked, tactfully leaving behind any aggression. "That is your name, then—Omen?" He paused, letting the tension fade. "I must admit, I did some reading before coming here and could not find a different name attached to you, only that… title."

Meris continued seething at my side. Honestly, I did not mind being called The Bad Omen. It had dogged me for most of my life. Still, my heart warmed at the way she stood up for me.

"Yes, I am Omen," I answered firmly, meeting Tarin's gaze. The name did not bother me as it once did. Might as well accept what everyone already called me.

"Omen," Tarin repeated, nodding in acknowledgment. "All right. I was not sure how to address you." He offered me a hint of an apologetic smile. "Nice to meet you, then."

"No need to apologize," I said. "Nice to meet you too, Tarin."

We shook hands, and Cedric and Hana also introduced themselves more fully, each giving me a firm handshake. Their palms felt surprisingly calloused, further proof of whatever training regimen they must have endured. I could hardly imagine living such a structured life, one with daily drills and guaranteed meals. Part of me envied them, but another part felt relieved that nobody here had yet shown me the casual cruelty I sometimes suffered on the streets.

Cedric looked me over carefully, and Hana regarded me the way one might stare at a fantastical creature, like a horse from the old tales. After a pause, she said, "Good to meet you. I heard a lot about you."

"What? You heard the rumors?" I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.

"Didn't you walk through the fog, alive, all the way from District 7 to here?" Hana asked, her eyebrows lifting in confusion.

"I… guess so," I admitted.

"Then they are not just rumors," she stated matter-of-factly.

She was correct, of course. That part was true. The notion that I was a harbinger of destruction, however, was the rumor I dreaded. I had long since concluded I was not personally responsible for any catastrophe, but I also understood how desperately people needed someone to blame. It was easier to hate the messenger than to face harsh reality.

"Great to have you all here," Elina said then, raising her voice to gather our attention. "But I need to prepare a few things in the classroom before we start, so please wait here a bit longer until everyone arrives." With that, she slipped through the wide doors of the library and disappeared inside.

From the outside, the library was not an imposing building, more an improvised structure adapted from an old home. Ancient stone foundations met mismatched wooden additions, suggesting it had grown in haphazard stages. Overhead, a few small windows let light in, though many were boarded up or cracked. The district had once possessed a genuine library, Elina said, but that building was abandoned over a thousand years ago. It happened during one of the times the District Council decided to shrink the ward's range to conserve its power.

Many books were relocated, but most were lost through misfortunes over time. There had never been many librarians like Elina, and paper itself deteriorated if nobody copied it. History faded if it was not carefully preserved.

I could hardly blame the past librarians for any failures. Elina herself barely earned a bit more than an apprentice's allowance, and the work of copying books, both to sell and to keep knowledge alive, was not considered "active labor" by the District. It was just seen as part of a librarian's duty, assuming they bothered to do it at all. No officials oversaw Elina's progress or tracked what she produced.

In spite of that, the shelves inside this smaller library still held many volumes, and our current body of knowledge was adequately preserved for the next generation. Every book on-site had at least one copy, some had multiple. Anything extra that Elina reproduced was sold to neighboring districts or private buyers who sought specific texts.

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After Elina disappeared into the library, we remained outside, quiet. Meris's anger from earlier had subsided, but a hint of awkwardness hung between us. Only Hana looked unconcerned, humming softly as she watched the passersby in the street. Tarin stood with an air of casual poise, occasionally glancing my way. Cedric lingered near his sister, exchanging a few whispered comments.

We did not have to wait too long. Soon, more students began trickling in from different parts of the district.

A girl who appeared a few years older than me, but clearly younger than Tarin, showed up first. Her hair was bound in a neat braid, and her coat looked new but practical. She exhaled in relief the moment she saw us.

"Hey, I hope I am not late. I have never been to this part of the district before and ended up getting lost," she admitted.

Tarin, noticing her uncertain expression, greeted her calmly. "No need to worry, we still have a few more minutes before we start. We are waiting on the rest to arrive."

"Good, good," she said, nodding. Then her gaze fell on Tarin's embroidered name. "You must be Tarin, right?" Although his identity was obvious, she asked politely. "I am Lessa Rovind."

"Yes, that is me," Tarin replied with a small laugh. "Nice to meet you, Lessa." He then introduced the rest of us, gesturing toward each person.

I noticed Tarin, Hana, and Cedric conversed with an easy familiarity. Clearly, they had known one another for some time, which was not surprising. After all, the main fighting forces in District 98 consisted of the Chainrunners and the city guard, so their families were bound to interact.

Lessa, on the other hand, was someone Elina had already warned Meris and me about. She was the daughter of the Head Merchant, in charge of both local and external trade with neighboring districts. It was no shock that she had been selected for the advanced class.

After Lessa arrived, a few more figures trickled in, some dressed in plain clothes that echoed my own style, others wearing something closer to what Tarin or the Highrows wore. Seeing these newcomers calmed me. At least they looked more like Meris and me—ordinary people, not heavily built or covered in fine tailoring. Each had been deemed "promising" by the District, which was why they were there.

They exchanged polite greetings, sharing subdued excitement about the upcoming class. Some glanced warily at the trio who had arrived first, but there was no overt hostility. A certain tension underlay the gathering, but it seemed more the product of nerves than any actual threat.

Thankfully, we did not loiter outside for long. Elina poked her head out of the library door and beckoned us in, instructing us to seat ourselves. The interior of the library, while cramped, offered a warm refuge from the brisk air outside. Shelves stuffed with worn, handwritten volumes rose along every wall. A few small desks had been arranged for us, and in front stood a larger wooden table where Elina intended to teach. Her presence, poised and ready, made the space feel more official.

To my relief, the class was not drastically different from her usual lessons. Still, as we settled in, a faint prickling on my neck told me someone was watching me. Sure enough, whenever I glanced around, I found Tarin's gaze aimed in my direction. It felt strange being studied by the son and that is the only son of one of the District's most influential figures. Yet for some reason, it was not entirely unsettling—just odd.

Eventually, Elina cleared her throat and launched into the day's topic: the district's history and the transformations it had undergone. We listened quietly, the dusty air thick with the smell of old parchment and fresh ink.

"Before we delve into the history of our district," Elina began, placing her hands on the desk in front of her, "I believe it is necessary to ensure you all understand the objectives and reasons for the existence of the Chainrunners. Luckily for us, we have someone here with extensive knowledge on the subject." She shot a meaningful look at Tarin.

Without missing a beat, she continued, "Do not worry, I am not going to force you into the spotlight if you are reluctant, Tarin, but we must discuss the Chainrunners. Can anyone here tell me the purpose of the Chainrunners?"

Lessa lifted her hand, and once Elina nodded, she spoke clearly, "They are the ones who travel between districts without the ward's protection, right? They were set up to enable trade across districts."

Elina looked pleased, but then her gaze shifted to Tarin, clearly expecting him to add or adjust something in Lessa's statement. He gave a slight shrug and said, "At first, it was not purely about trade. It was a distribution system among the districts. Each district had certain artifacts or specialized skills and sometimes specialized facilities, so the Chainrunners transported resources where needed."

Elina's eyes brightened at that. She offered a small nod of approval and continued, "Indeed. The Chainrunners were established to ensure movement of goods and sometimes people among the districts."

But Tarin still appeared uneasy with his own explanation, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Suddenly, he stepped forward and spoke again, his voice steadier this time. "However, that was not their original purpose," he clarified. "They were founded to explore the land, the city beyond the ward, to uncover its secrets, find lost artifacts, and ultimately discover a way to free us from the fog altogether."

A hush fell over the room. I could tell Elina herself was startled, as though Tarin was teaching her something she had not heard in this context. My pulse quickened. This was the first time I had seen someone share knowledge that seemed even to catch Elina off guard. And it was fascinating to think the Chainrunners were meant to be explorers rather than mere traders.

There were a few murmurs among the students, and then Hana spoke. "Sorry, Tarin, but isn't that just the old legend about the Chainrunners?"

Tarin appeared genuinely upset by her remark. "It is not just a legend; it is the real reason. Even though we have not accomplished much in that area, it was why the Chainrunners were created. We are explorers, not just a group meant to facilitate trade."

He spoke these words with a hint of sorrow. What also intrigued me was how he kept referring to the Chainrunners as "we."

Most Chainrunners, as far as I understood, were criminals paying off their sentences, forced into that life. Only a few chose it willingly. Yet given Tarin's background, I supposed his mother might have trained him to follow in her footsteps.

Elina then continued. "That is a good point, Tarin. Indeed, the Chainrunners have noble objectives, but the beasts of the fog do not care. They attack anything that steps beyond the ward."

"Can't we just hide?" I asked before I could stop myself, instantly wishing I had kept quiet.

Everyone turned to look at me. Tarin's eyes were the most piercing. If they had the power to start a fire, I imagined I would already be burning. Yet he remained silent.

"It is not possible to hide in the fog," Elina said, regarding me with uncertainty. "The monsters might hide there, but we cannot. They sense the moment someone enters the fog, and they attack anyone who goes in."

"But could we not sneak past them?" I suggested, my voice quieter now. "Maybe create a distraction while sending another team around a different route."

Tarin answered this time, his tone firm. "There have been many attempts, different tactics people have tried. But no, it is simply impossible to slip by the monsters in the fog. The fog itself must warn them somehow. Everything the fog touches, they seem to know about. There are no clever distractions, because the fog always appears aware of any plan we might concoct. There is a reason we are called Chainrunners: we fight and run. Hiding is never an option."

That statement made me recall my recent venture near the fog, when I had left my entire left arm in it for half an hour, feeling it stir around me. I remembered thinking it acknowledged my presence, yet nothing had happened. Tarin's words forced me to rethink that experience, though I stayed silent.

Meris spoke up next. Her shyness from earlier returned, but she forced herself to say, "Can… can we not kill all the monsters in the fog?"

Tarin focused on her. "It is not possible. They are endless. We can only kill what is directly in our path, and we must do it fast, before more gather. That is why we limit our runs to the nearest districts, buying time to scatter the monsters and waiting for our artifacts to recharge."

He paused, appearing to choose his words cautiously. "Also, killing them is not easy. The monsters closest to a district's ward can be slain by a team of properly trained fighters, but even one creature usually demands multiple people. A single misstep can be fatal. Above all, timing is crucial. If we spend too long outside the ward, more monsters will converge, and some are simply unkillable. If we attract one of those… that is the end."

At this point, the lesson shifted as Tarin launched into a deeper explanation of how the Chainrunners operated.

According to him, a great variety of beasts roamed the fog, and the Chainrunners mostly learned to handle those that lingered near ward boundaries. Timing was their most precious tool; they had to fight defensively without halting, because the longer they remained beyond the wards, the more monsters gathered. Speed and constant movement were key.

They also feared drawing unwelcome attention. Elina mentioned historical records, some from our present era, some from centuries past—that described terrifying monsters with unnatural speed and might, creatures that decimated nearly entire squads of Chainrunners. It usually happened when a run dragged on too long, leaving the group vulnerable. Perhaps the fog itself dispatched something deadlier.

That, Elina noted, was also what occurred around the time I first arrived in District 98. A single monster reportedly took down most of the Chainrunners during a long run.

The wards of neighboring districts are only a few kilometers apart, and the Chainrunners travel from one district to the next during their runs.

Last month, for instance, they had organized a run to District 95. The group first went to District 97, stayed there a day, then advanced to District 96, and finally reached 95. After that, they retraced their steps, trying to minimize their time in the fog and letting the monsters disperse before heading out again. That also allowed the Chainrunners to wait for their artifacts to recharge.

There were numerous artifacts to be found beyond the wards, many with magical traits that required varying amounts of recharge time, some just minutes, others an hour or more, and some days.

Tarin's mother, the Captain of the Chainrunners, owned one such artifact—a special bow. Elina had shown us a painting of it once: the Runic Bow of Dawnbreak, often just called the Dawnbreak Bow. It fascinated me to imagine such a weapon.

Apparently, the bow was sleek and recurved, its body fashioned from an unknown metal alloy fused with opalescent crystals. Elegant runes stretched across its limbs, faintly glowing in the dark. A strip of worn leather wrapped around the grip. By Elina's account, it was only slightly taller than a standard shortbow, though supposedly lighter than its appearance suggested.

Although the bow itself was a masterpiece, it also possessed potent magical functions. In many districts, people knew of it for its lack of normal arrows. Instead, whenever someone drew the string, the bow generated its own projectiles of condensed energy.

Rumor had it that these energy arrows were excellent at piercing thick-skinned monsters, and they did not lose trajectory over long distances the way typical arrows would.

Yet that was not what truly made Dawnbreak legendary. It had an ability called the Arrow of Pure Light. A powerful shot of this arrow could pass through multiple enemies, breach walls, and do much more, but it was primarily used for its brilliant radiance. When fired skyward, it sliced through the heavy fog with dazzling brightness, scattering nearby monsters and often salvaging a run that was on the verge of failure. The monsters needed time to regroup, which gave the Chainrunners a critical window to dash for the next ward.

Nevertheless, that miraculous arrow was reserved for dire situations, partly because it could attract even greater threats within the fog, and partly because it took an entire day to recharge.

A few days after I arrived, the Chainrunner captains from districts close to us, those that had not been destroyed, joined forces to form a special mission of veterans. Their goal was to locate the next district in the chain beyond District 100 that might still be intact. At the time, they already suspected District 7 was gone, thanks to my arrival, but they wanted to confirm what else had happened. It was a long route to reach District 7, even starting from District 100.

Tarin's mother went along, one of the few who survived the ordeal. They assembled at District 100 and traversed the line of districts without cargo, running nonstop, reducing combat wherever possible. It was a bold move; they knew they could not turn back without accomplishing something. Their only shot at living rested in locating a surviving district at the other end of their route.

They did find one: District 11.

They endured terrible casualties, but they returned to District 100 alive—at least, a few of them. Most of the veteran Chainrunners and many prized artifacts were lost on that journey.

District 11, it turned out, was another major food producer. Yet the Chainrunners who made it home were so diminished that they never recovered fully. District 11 remained out of reach, and to this day, they mainly employed criminals as Chainrunners, lacking enough skilled volunteers. Their supply of relics was small, mostly concentrated in the hands of their captains.

Thus, runs to District 11 were essentially impossible now, despite the district's large food output. They had more than just a cultivation artifact, they possessed a facility that boosted food production too. But hauling enough food for entire districts required wagons that mere people could not effectively pull at high speed. Perhaps the mythical horses from old stories could have managed that job, but nobody knew if such creatures truly existed. And any slow-moving convoy demanded heavy protection, which was rarely feasible.

Before I arrived, people managed occasional travel to these food-producing districts, moving from one ward to another without braving long spans of fog. But so many districts in that chain had been wiped out that District 98 was isolated from the main route. The only neighboring wards left to us were 100, 99, 97, 96, and 95, none of which could yield enough supplies to justify frequent runs.

In truth, the only items truly worth trading were so few that Jharim spent most of his time idle. He specialized in forging weapons and gear for the Chainrunners, but with so little active demand, there was rarely much for him to do. Other blacksmiths handled the district's everyday needs.

As the lesson progressed, we covered much I already knew, yet there were tantalizing new clues about the district's history and the nature of the fog. My mind buzzed with questions, though it was difficult to concentrate. I kept sensing the weight of the other students' gazes, particularly whenever someone mentioned "the day I arrived." Their glances made me feel like a walking omen, and I squirmed in my seat, trying to keep my focus on Elina's words rather than the rumors swirling around me.