"Oh, we will handle it," Marcus said. "Just give us that and we will be on our way."

Merchant May looked at him for a second.

Then at the chests.

Then back at him.

"You say that like moving fifty million kinah is the same as moving a sack of grain."

Marcus shrugged.

"To me, it’s cargo."

The co-pilot, standing a few steps behind him, slowly turned his head.

"That is a very rich way of saying it."

Marcus ignored him.

May let out a soft breath, though there was a faint smile on her face. She seemed to understand by now that Marcus was not the type to explain everything. He didn’t brag. He didn’t perform. He simply did things and left people to wonder how.

That alone made him more difficult to read than most adventurers.

"Very well," May said. "But at least allow my men to help load it."

Marcus nodded once.

"That’s fine."

May gave a small gesture.

The workers moved immediately.

The chests were lifted one by one. Each one required two men, sometimes three, depending on how heavy the contents were. The metal-reinforced corners scraped lightly against the floor as they were carried toward the open rear of the M939 truck.

Marcus walked beside them, watching the process carefully.

He wasn’t worried about theft.

Not here.

Not under May’s own roof.

But after crossing the Forest of No Return, he wasn’t in the mood to get careless over something simple.

The first chest was loaded into the truck bed with a heavy thud.

Then the second.

Then the third.

The suspension of the M939 dipped slightly under the added weight, but it held.

One of the crew standing near the rear gave it a short look.

"Truck can handle it."

Marcus nodded.

"Secure each chest. No loose cargo."

"Copy."

The crew climbed into the back and started fastening the chests down with heavy straps. They worked fast, but not carelessly. Every lock, every strap, every corner was checked twice. The gold wasn’t just payment anymore. It was now cargo under their responsibility.

And Marcus hated losing cargo.

May stood a short distance away, arms lightly crossed, watching the process.

"You really are leaving right away," she said.

Marcus glanced at her.

"Yeah."

"No rest?"

"We’ll rest when we’re back."

"Back across the same route?"

Marcus paused for half a second.

Not long enough for most people to notice.

May did.

She was sharp.

Marcus gave a simple answer.

"We’ll manage."

May didn’t press further.

Maybe she knew he wouldn’t answer.

Maybe she understood that whatever route he used was not something he wanted to explain in the middle of her merchant headquarters.

"Then take care," she said. "Crentis may be safer than the road, but the world outside its walls is still dangerous."

Marcus gave a faint smirk.

"Noted."

The last chest was loaded.

The crew secured it in place and stepped back.

"All payment loaded and secured," one of them reported.

Marcus walked to the rear of the truck and inspected it himself. The chests were lined up neatly, strapped down tight enough that they wouldn’t shift even if the road turned rough.

Good.

He turned back to May.

"Contract settled."

May nodded.

"Contract settled."

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then May extended her hand again.

Marcus shook it.

This time, the gesture felt less formal.

Not friendly exactly.

But respectful.

"You completed a job many would not have accepted," May said. "And you did it without asking questions you were not paid to ask."

Marcus released her hand.

"That’s how contracts work."

May’s smile returned.

"For most people, contracts become flexible when fear or greed enters the room."

Marcus glanced at the truck.

"Then they’re bad contractors."

The co-pilot muttered again.

"Boss has standards."

Marcus finally looked at him.

The co-pilot immediately turned away.

May let out a quiet laugh.

Then she stepped aside.

"I won’t keep you longer."

Marcus gave her a nod.

"Good doing business."

"Likewise."

He turned and climbed into the driver’s seat of the M939.

The pilot took the passenger side while the rest of the crew climbed into the rear. The truck’s cab felt familiar now after the chaos of the last few hours. Simple. Solid. Heavy. Mechanical.

Marcus started the engine.

The diesel rumbled to life.

The sound filled the front of May’s headquarters, deep and rough enough that several nearby workers flinched even though they had already heard it before.

Outside the building, the city was still watching.

Of course they were.

News had spread fast.

By the time Marcus eased the truck forward, a crowd had formed along both sides of the road. Guards kept them back, but the people still stared openly.

Some whispered.

Some pointed.

A few children looked amazed.

Most adults looked worried.

The truck rolled slowly through the wide merchant street, its tires grinding against stone as it followed the road back toward the city gate. May’s guards escorted them again, keeping the path clear.

Marcus kept the speed low.

The last thing he needed was to crush a market stall because someone panicked and stepped in front of the vehicle.

"Feels like a parade," the pilot muttered.

Marcus kept his eyes forward.

"Worst parade ever."

"At least we’re getting paid like nobles."

"Don’t say that too loud."

The pilot glanced out the window at the crowd.

"Why?"

"Because people might believe it."

The truck continued forward.

Crentis passed around them in slow detail.

Tall stone buildings.

Market signs hanging over shops.

Flower boxes on windows.

Merchants in fine clothes standing beside carts full of cloth, spices, tools, and glassware.

The city was rich.

There was no doubt about that.

But even here, the M939 looked like something that had fallen from another world.

Which, technically, wasn’t far from the truth.

At the gate, the same guards from earlier were waiting.

This time, they didn’t block the road.

They simply stood aside.

The lead guard gave Marcus a cautious nod as the truck approached.

Marcus returned it with a small one of his own.

No words.

No long goodbye.

The gate opened wider.

The M939 passed through.

Stone walls slid by on both sides, and then the city was behind them.

The noise of Crentis faded slowly, replaced by open wind and the steady rumble of the engine.

The road outside felt much quieter.

Fields stretched to both sides.

Farmers still paused to stare as the truck passed, but Marcus didn’t slow down. He followed the dirt road until the city walls were far behind them, then took a turn toward the same low hill where they had landed earlier.

The clearing came into view not long after.

Marcus drove the truck into the clearing and stopped near the center.

The engine idled for a moment before he shut it off.

Silence returned.

The crew climbed down from the back, stretching their arms and legs after the slow ride out of the city.

One of them looked back toward Crentis.

"Think they’ll talk about us?"

The pilot scoffed.

"They’ll talk about us before dinner."

The co-pilot added, "By tomorrow, the truck will probably be ten times larger in the story."

Marcus stepped out and looked toward the distant line of dark green on the horizon.

The Forest of No Return.

Even from here, it looked wrong.

The land between them and the forest was open and calm, but the forest itself stood like a wall. Dark. Dense. Waiting.

No one joked after seeing it.

The memory of the first crossing came back quickly.

The tree monsters.

The vultures.

The A-10’s final pass.

The way the forest moved like it had a mind.

The pilot followed Marcus’s gaze.

"...We really going back over that?"

Marcus didn’t answer immediately.

He looked at the truck bed.

The gold was secured.

The cargo delivery was complete.

The contract was finished.

They had no reason to return through the forest except that it was still the fastest way home.

And Marcus wanted to get back.