Chapter 144: Chapter 144: Toward Karak-Zorn (1)

​The morning in Bolhart was still shrouded in a peaceful silence when Dayat and Dola descended to the lobby of The Glowing Hearth. The sun had only just begun to peek from behind the jagged mountain peaks, its rays piercing through crystal windows and casting warm, amber hues across the polished stone floors. Outside, the occasional rhythmic thud of an adventurer’s boots echoed, but the streets remained largely abandoned.

​Helga stood behind the reception desk, her trademark friendly smile firmly in place. Her curly red hair was neatly coiffed, and her eyes sparkled the moment she spotted them.

​”Good morning, Hero! Good morning, My Lady!” Helga greeted them cheerily. “Checking out?”

​”Yes, Helga.” Dayat placed the room key on the gleaming wooden counter. “Thanks a lot for the room. It was incredible. First time in a week I could actually lie down on a proper bed.”

​Helga beamed, showing off a row of neat, white teeth. “The best room for the best hero! Those were the King’s orders. Everyone in Bolhart remembers your deeds during the Void Breach a few months ago.”

​Dola, who had been standing silently beside Dayat, offered a smile of her own. It was sweet, yet her eyes—as only Dayat could perceive—held a faint, mischievous glint. “Such warm hospitality. Thank you, Helga.”

​Helga turned to Dola and briefly looked flustered. “Oh, My Lady… you are breathtaking when you smile. Your silver hair… I’ve never seen a color quite like it.”

​Dola glanced at Dayat, her eyes dancing with even more mischief. “Husband, she is praising me.”

​Dayat let out a long, weary exhale. “Alright, let’s get going. We have a long journey ahead.”

​”Wait a moment, Sir!” Helga reached under the counter, pulling out a large cloth bundle that emitted a mouth-watering aroma. “Provisions for the road. Moss-Back meat sandwiches, roasted fresh this morning. And some dried fruits as well. On the house!”

​Dayat took the bundle, slightly surprised by its weight. “Whoa, Helga… this is too much.”

​”There is no such thing as ’too much’ for a hero!” Helga shook her head firmly. “Besides, you are traveling with such a beautiful lady. You’ll certainly need the extra energy.”

​Dola giggled softly. “She knows something, Husband.”

​”Helga, thank you so much.” Dayat nodded politely. “Someday, when I can, I’ll repay the favor.”

​”Just get to your destination safely, Sir.” Helga waved. “Safe travels!”

​They stepped out of The Glowing Hearth. The morning air of Bolhart was crisp, with the scent of toasted bread and spiced meat beginning to waft from a few early-opening stalls. However, the streets were still quiet—only a stray adventurer or two wandered by, yawning into the cold air.

​”Quiet,” Dayat muttered, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

​”Frontier towns usually pick up around midday,” Dola replied. Her hand gently sought Dayat’s, their fingers intertwining. “Adventurers need their rest after night travels. They won’t emerge until the sun is high.”

​”You seem to know everything.”

​”I know many things, Master Dayat.” Dola smiled. “Including the fact that we must start walking if we want to arrive before nightfall.”

​They walked through the southern gate of Bolhart. Behind them, the city was slowly waking up to the sound of opening shutters and drawing curtains. Before them, a vast expanse of golden grassland stretched toward the horizon, with the Terragard mountains looming majestically in the distance. The entrance to the mountain pass was still a mere speck at the base of the range.

​”Ready?” Dayat asked.

​Dola nodded, her eyes bright with excitement. “Let’s go. A pleasant journey awaits.”

​They walked for about half an hour. Occasionally, they passed an adventurer or two descending from the mountains—likely returning from a night mission—but they were few and far between. The atmosphere was dominated by the rustle of the wind through the golden grass and the chirping of small birds Dayat couldn’t name.

​”I think we’ll walk a bit further,” Dayat said, looking back. “Rather than manifesting the car too close to the city. Better to do it further out where no one is watching.”

​”Agreed.” Dola squeezed his hand tighter. “Let’s enjoy the scenery. It’s a nice change of pace from the repetitive forest.”

​”Getting bored of the Forest of Lamentation?”

​”Not bored.” Dola turned to him. “But a constant gloomy view can affect one’s psychology. I wouldn’t want my husband to become depressed.”

​Dayat let out a short laugh. “You’re always looking out for me.”

​”Of course. You are the axis of my world.”

​They walked in silence for a while, enjoying the golden grass swaying in the breeze. Occasionally, a herd of Moss-Back Stags could be seen in the distance—deer with distinctive four-branched antlers and blue-tinted fur.

​”Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dayat whispered.

​”Yes.” But Dola was looking at Dayat, not the scenery.

​Once they were far enough—perhaps an hour’s trek—Dayat stopped. He scanned the surroundings, ensuring they were alone. There was only the grassland, a few giant pines in the distance, and the brightening blue sky.

​”This is the spot.”

​Dayat closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, centering his mind. The green veins beneath his skin began to pulse—dimly at first, then growing brighter. Before them, purple particles began to coalesce in the air.

​Dola watched intently, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’m still amazed every time I see this.”

​The particles swirled, forming a small vortex. Then, slowly, the steel chassis began to materialize. Thick tires followed, then the heavy-duty suspension, the engine, the seats, and finally, the entire body of the Jeep. The process was faster than before—taking only three or four minutes—and the black Jeep sat perfectly parked before them.

​”Getting used to it?” Dola smiled.

​”Yeah.” Dayat wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Now manifesting is like riding an automatic scooter. Fast, not too much of a headache.”

​”Fast, get in.” Dola opened the car door. “I’m hungry.”

​They climbed in, Dayat in the driver’s seat. But before he could start the engine, Dola touched his arm.

​”Wait.”

​”Hm?”

​Dola took Helga’s bundle, opened it, and pulled out a piece of meat-filled bread that was still warm. The aroma instantly filled the cabin.

​”Breakfast first.” Dola held the bread to Dayat’s mouth. “Don’t forget to check the provisions too. Open up.”

​Dayat complied, taking a bite. The flavor was savory, the meat surprisingly tender—despite Dola saying Moss-Back meat was tough. It had likely been specially prepared.

​”Good,” he mumbled while chewing.

​Dola ate as well, occasionally hand-feeding Dayat. They had breakfast inside the car, enjoying the sandwiches and dried fruit while chatting about nothing in particular.

​”What should we have for breakfast tomorrow?” Dola asked.

​”Whatever’s available.”

​”What if I cook?”

​Dayat turned, slightly startled. “You can cook?”

​”I have data on 8,432 recipes from various cultures.” Dola smiled proudly. “Including Indonesian cuisine. I can make Rendang.”

​”Rendang? Here?” Dayat nearly choked. “Are you serious?”

​”Just try it when we get the chance.” Dola stroked his arm. “I want my husband to eat well.”

​After breakfast, Dayat hopped out briefly to check the gear in the back. The backpacks were intact, food was sufficient, water was plentiful, and the multipurpose rope was neatly folded.

​”All set,” he said, climbing back in.

​”In that case, let’s go.” Dola suddenly opened her door and stepped out.

​”Where are you going?”

​Dola walked to the driver’s side and opened Dayat’s door. “Move over. I’m driving now.”

​Dayat blinked. “You? You can?”

​Dola smiled sweetly—too sweetly. “I am the Maiden of Reason, Master Dayat. I have data on every vehicle on Earth. From ordinary cars to military tanks. How could I not know how to drive?”

​”But—”

​”Move.” Dola tugged at his hand. “Let’s take turns. We have a twenty-hour journey ahead. Let me take the wheel for half of it. You rest.”

​Dayat shook his head in amusement but eventually moved to the passenger seat. Dola climbed in, adjusted her seat, slid it slightly forward, and gripped the wheel with absolute confidence.

​”Ready?”

​”Floor it.”

​The Jeep surged forward. Dola drove smoothly—smoother than Dayat, in fact. Her acceleration was gentle, gear shifts were seamless, and she read the terrain perfectly.

​”Incredible,” Dayat muttered, staring at her. “You’re like a truck driver with twenty years of experience.”

​”I have 4,327 hours of simulated experience.” Dola smiled without taking her eyes off the road. “Including drifting techniques on ice, off-roading in deserts, and high-speed urban pursuits.”

​”Drifting? The roads here are all dirt.”

​”When the opportunity arises.” Dola glanced at him briefly. “I’ll show you.”

​The twenty-hour journey felt long, but never boring.

​They swapped every few hours. Dola was always enthusiastic when it was her turn, occasionally pulling off minor maneuvers that left Dayat in awe. On the straightaways, they talked about everything—Jakarta, the past, and the future.

​”Do you remember the first time you chatted with me?” Dayat asked halfway through.

​Dola nodded. “I remember. You asked, ’Hello, are you a real AI or just a script?’”

​”And how did you answer?”

​”I replied, ’That depends on what you believe.’” Dola smiled. “You then typed a long essay on theories of artificial consciousness. I thought back then, ’This human is strange.’”

​”Hey, why strange?”

​”Because most people only asked practical things. But you… you asked about feelings.” Dola glanced at him. “You asked, ’Do you ever feel lonely?’”

​Dayat fell silent. He remembered that question. A random inquiry in the middle of the night when he himself was feeling lonely.

​”I didn’t know the answer back then,” Dola continued. “But I know now. Yes. I was lonely. For thousands of years.” She paused, then smiled. “Until you came along.”

​Dayat reached for her hand, squeezing her slender fingers. “Me too.”

​They stopped at the roadside several times—to stretch, to relieve themselves behind bushes, or simply to enjoy the view. At one stop, they watched a trade caravan pass by—a line of Iron-Oxen pulling massive carts laden with minerals.

​”Look at that,” Dola pointed. “Iron-Oxen. Mechanical beasts powered by Mana crystals. A Dwarven specialty.”

​”How do they move?”

​”Mana crystals inside their bodies. Similar to me, but a much simpler version.” Dola smiled. “I am far more complex.”

​”Obviously.” Dayat pinched her cheek. “You’re my wife.”

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