Summoned with an SSS-Rank Portal Skill

William and Gorn enjoyed a comfortable night's rest at Aella's house, a welcome respite after their journey. But with the dawn came the time to depart. Aella, too, packed her belongings, ready to fulfill her end of the bargain. As William and Gorn headed north, Aella would journey south to Willow Creek.

"Take care on your travels," Aella said, a warm smile gracing her features. "And behave yourself, William."

William rolled his eyes playfully. "I'm not a child," he retorted. "You take care too, Aella."

With farewells exchanged, they left Alderanth behind. From this point onward, everything would be new territory for William. A nervous flutter danced in his stomach.

"Is this region dangerous?" he asked, scanning the unfamiliar landscape.

"Travel always carries some risk," Gorn replied, his gaze steady. "But sticking to the main roads will minimize it. Security is much tighter along these routes. Most travelers get into trouble when they try to take shortcuts."

They had departed early precisely to avoid rushing. Gorn, a seasoned traveler, preferred the well-trodden paths to risky shortcuts. The main roads, paved with stone and dotted with taverns, offered a comfortable and secure journey, patrolled regularly by kingdom soldiers.

"Why does everyone travel by horse?" William asked, curious. "Is it the fastest way?"

"Certainly not," Gorn replied, amusement in his voice. "We have magic-powered airships, mages who can fly independently, and, most commonly, flying magical beasts."

"Horses are simply more affordable and accessible," he added. "And certainly better than walking."

"Wow, that's amazing," William exclaimed, his imagination ignited. "One day, I want a flying beast of my own. Imagine riding a dragon!"

Gorn chuckled. "The only problem is dragons don't exist anymore. But it would be quite a sight, wouldn't it? Tell me, how would you go about taming a dragon?"

William, caught off guard, blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "With my incredible sense of humor?"

"Idiot..." Gorn muttered, shaking his head.

Their journey progressed smoothly for a while. But during a routine stop at a tavern, things took an unexpected, and sinister, turn.

The tavern was located in a tiny settlement, barely a village, with no more than eight houses huddled together. It was smaller than Willow Creek, its only distinguishing feature a protective wall.

Night had fallen when they arrived, cloaking the town in an eerie darkness. A thick fog rolled in, adding to the unsettling atmosphere. A lone villager stood at the gate, his expression grim.

"What brings you here?" he asked gruffly.

"Travelers seeking shelter for the night," Gorn replied. "May we enter?"

"Of course," the villager said, stepping aside. "Please, come in."

They rode through the gate, the rhythmic clip-clop of their horses' hooves echoing through the deserted streets. They dismounted in front of the town's sole tavern, its windows dark and uninviting.

"This place gives me the creeps," William muttered, eyeing the dilapidated buildings and fog-shrouded streets. "Honestly, I'd rather camp in the woods."

Gorn shared his sentiment. "Indeed," he grumbled, "but we need supplies and rest for the horses. Hunting in this fog would be a fool's errand. We'll have to make do with this tavern. Perhaps the interior is more inviting."

They left their horses in the care of a sullen stable boy and stepped into the tavern. The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the musty scent of neglect. Cobwebs clung to the corners, insects crawled along the walls, and the wooden floorboards creaked ominously beneath their feet.

"Well, so much for a more inviting interior," William quipped, wrinkling his nose.

They approached the bar, where a man with a scraggly beard, missing teeth, and a disconcertingly cheerful grin sat polishing a tankard. He looked like he had stepped straight out of a horror film.

"Do you have any rooms available?" Gorn inquired.

The man's smile widened. "Indeed we do," he chirped. "Will two rooms suffice?"

"Yes, that will be fine," Gorn replied.

The innkeeper handed them keys, informing them he would settle the payment in the morning. "I'm feeling quite weary," he explained, stifling a yawn. "I'll be closing up for the night."

This struck William as odd. Taverns usually operated around the clock, with staff working in shifts. Perhaps this establishment didn't receive enough traffic to justify such hours. The place felt so deserted that William wondered if he and Gorn were the first customers in months.

They climbed the creaking stairs to the second floor. The rooms were spartan, each containing a single bed with a rock-hard mattress and little else. No windows, no amenities, not even a washbasin.

'This feels more like a prison cell than a tavern room,' William thought grimly. Sleeping in the woods suddenly seemed far more appealing.

A few minutes later, Gorn arrived with a steaming bowl of soup for each of them. Despite the dismal surroundings, the soup was surprisingly delicious.

Perhaps it was their hunger amplifying the flavors, but the warm meal brought a much-needed sense of comfort.

"We'll resume our journey in the morning," Gorn said, his voice low as he savored the soup. "I don't want to stay in this forsaken place any longer than necessary."

"Agreed," William replied, sharing his sentiment.

After their meal, Gorn retired to his room, leaving William alone with his thoughts. He lay down on the lumpy bed, the unsettling atmosphere making it difficult to relax. Sleep finally came, but it was a restless slumber, punctuated by strange noises in the dead of night.

William's eyes snapped open. He reached for his sword, his heart pounding. Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside his room. At first, he dismissed it as a normal occurrence in a tavern, but then he remembered – the tavern was closed. There shouldn't be anyone else here.

'It's just me and Gorn,' he thought, his grip tightening on the sword hilt. 'Who's out there?'

He hesitated, fear battling with curiosity. Just as he mustered the courage to investigate, the footsteps ceased. Unease prickled his skin, but exhaustion eventually won over, and he drifted back to sleep.

Morning arrived with a rude awakening. Gorn pounded on his door, his voice filled with urgency.

"Lad, we have a problem," Gorn announced as William opened the door. "Someone stole our horses!"

He punctuated his statement with a furious punch that nearly sent the flimsy wall crumbling.

The news was a blow. This desolate town was in the middle of nowhere. There was no telling where they could find replacements.

"What do we do now?" William asked, his stomach churning with anxiety.

"We track down those horses," Gorn declared, his jaw clenched. "And if we can't find them, we pray someone here has some to sell. Worst case scenario, we walk to the next town, but that will delay our journey significantly."

Their first lead was the stable boy, but he had vanished without a trace. They questioned the other townsfolk, but were met with indifference, even a hint of malicious glee at their misfortune. Gorn, a man of action, felt a growing sense of dread.

He couldn't bear the thought of William missing the magic school entrance exam after months of dedicated training.

"We'll stay one more day to search for the horses," Gorn declared, his voice tight with frustration. "If we have no luck, we'll continue on foot."

William nodded, trusting Gorn's judgment. They spent the day scouring the town, questioning every resident, but their efforts proved futile.

No one had seen the horses, nor did anyone have any to sell. Resigned, they returned to the dilapidated tavern for another miserable night. And that's when the true horror began.