Grub didn't have much time to gather his thoughts before they moved him. The moment the chains were removed from the wall, he was pulled forward and guided out of the cell and into the corridor beyond. Luthiel stayed close at his side, her hand wrapped firmly around his, giving the impression that she was making sure he didn't try anything reckless. Her grip wasn't forceful, but it had some weight to it. Steady enough to keep him moving, and tight enough to remind him that, even now, he wasn't in control of the situation.
Then, just as they reached the exit of the building, a cloth was suddenly pulled over his eyes. They seemed to be blindfolding him. Grub tensed for only a fraction of a second before relaxing again.
It makes sense.
If they truly believed he might be a spy, then there was no way they would risk him seeing the layout of their village. The Colonel's earlier words echoed faintly in his mind—about the spies they had sent before, and how none of them had survived. Grub could already piece together what this meant for him.
This wasn't a welcome. He was being evaluated. Judgement would fall on him, and if he failed that judgment, there wouldn't be any negotiation afterward.
Grub swallowed quietly, his throat suddenly feeling dry.
They continued walking, and without his sight, every other sensation became sharper. He could feel the uneven texture of the ground beneath his feet gradually shift—rough dirt giving way to a much more solid floor. Even the air changed as it grew cooler and more stagnant, telling him they had entered another building. The faint echo of footsteps confirmed it.
The entire walk, Luthiel never let go of his hand even once.
Whenever his steps faltered even slightly, her grip would tighten enough to steady him and make sure he was ready to take another one. She guided him forward without a word. It was strangely… kind. Not the way someone handled a prisoner they intended to kill immediately.
Eventually, they stopped. There was a brief pause, filled only by the quiet shuffling of movement around him.
The blindfold was then taken off his face. Grub blinked as light rushed back into his vision, his eyes taking a moment to adjust before the space around him came into focus. He found himself standing in what looked like an auditorium.
It wasn't massive, but it carried a sense of importance. The floors were polished, smooth and reflecting faint light across the room.While the structure itself was clean and deliberate—as if it had been built for gatherings, ceremonies, or announcements. It wasn't extravagant—but it was carefully maintained.
His gaze shifted forward.
At the far end of the room stood a raised platform, and upon it—a tall, almost throne-like seat. On either side of it stood two guards, both humanoid in shape but clearly not creatures Grub recognized. Their bodies were structured similarly to a human's, but their features were strange, unfamiliar, carrying an otherworldly quality. Grub was curious about their origins, but he supposed he should save that for if he passes this test.
One of the guards stepped forward slightly. It straightened its posture, cleared its throat loudly, and then spoke in a booming voice that echoed throughout the room.
"HERE COMES THE GREAT CHIEF OF THE VILLAGE—THE HEAD OF OUR CORNER OF THE WORLD—THE MAYOR—THE RULER—CHIEFTAIN MORRIGAN CRAFTANIA!"
The declaration filled the space with weight. Grub didn't understand most of the words he spoke though.
But he didn't need to. Two things stood out clearly in his mind as the only two parts of the announcement he understood.
Morrigan Craftania and Great Chief.
That was enough to understand who he was about to meet. The guards bowed immediately and everyone else soon followed.
Luthiel bowed as well, her movement smooth and practiced—then, without hesitation, she turned slightly and gave Grub a quick, sharp nudge with her foot. Grub caught the hint instantly and dipped his head.
Right. I gotta be respectful and follow their lead if I want to make it out of here alive.
As he straightened just slightly, expecting something grand to follow the introduction, what came instead completely shattered the atmosphere. A voice rang out that sounded loud, irritated, and completely unimpressed.
"Why the hell do you idiots still do that unnecessary bullshit?!"
Grub blinked. "…What?"
"God damn it, I'm just an old woman. All that announcing is gonna kill me before anything else does!"
From behind the tall chair, something began to move. Not something. Someone.
An old woman slowly shuffled into view, leaning heavily on a staff as she made her way forward.
Grub stared at her with a mixed expression. She was no ordinary old woman.
Her form resembled that of a humanoid turtle, her body sturdy and rounded, with a wide basin of water resting atop her head that flowed naturally. Her mouth was beaked, yet still capable of shifting into clear expressions, and a crown of flowers rested loosely along her head, adding a strange contrast to her otherwise worn appearance. A long white robe draped over her form, trailing slightly as she moved.
With the assistance of the guards due to her short stature, she climbed up onto the seat and settled into it with a small grunt. Then she looked down at him. Her gaze was sharp despite her age.
"Hey," she said bluntly, "you're a pretty weird-looking fucker, aren't ya?"
Grub's eyes widened. But not because the insult hurt his feelings. But because—He understood her. Completely.
It was not fragmented. He didn't need to guess a single word. And it was nothing like the broken yet complete understanding he had with the Lacerts.
This was clear and fluent.
Like she was speaking directly in his own tongue.
His mind froze for a moment, thoughts colliding into each other.
How? How? How? How is that possible?
Morrigan watched his reaction for a few seconds before letting out a quiet sigh.
"You're staring pretty hard there," she muttered. "Careful now—keep that up and a delicate young woman like me might get flustered."
She grinned, clearly amused with herself, before leaning forward slightly and examining him more closely.
"You're wondering how you can understand me, yeah?"
Grub didn't give an answer. She didn't need him to.
Morrigan tapped her staff lightly against the ground.
"Simple Anima trick."
That word—Anima— landed heavier than the rest.
"When people speak, there's more than just sound. There's intent and meaning behind it that takes form as a flow of Anima. I take that flow and… adjust it. Then simply use it to control how I interpret what others say—and how they interpret me."
She smirked, clearly pleased.
"It's not something you pick up overnight. In fact, it's quite the high-level technique. One that a newbie like you couldn't dream of doing, it takes too much experience."
Grub stood there, completely still, trying to process what he had just heard.
Anima. Again. That same word. The same concept that kept appearing, over and over.
Morrigan tilted her head slightly.
"You've got a question," she said, watching him carefully. "It's written all over your face." Her grin widened. "Go on then. Ask it already. Standing there looking all confused and pathetic is gonna make me wanna smooch ya."
Grub ignored that entirely. Instead, he focused on his thirst for knowledge.
"…What are you talking about?" He paused for only a second before continuing. "What is Anima?"
The room went silent as soon as he finished speaking. The guards around the chief all stiffened up. Even the subtle movements around him seemed to stop. Morrigan had changed the flow for everyone in the room.
She blinked once, then twice, clearly caught off guard.
"…You're serious?"
Grub didn't look away and continued to stare into her eyes. The chief leaned back slightly in her seat, letting out a slow breath.
"Well now… that's interesting."
Her gaze sharpened, studying him in a new light.
"How the hell do you not know the lifeblood of this world?"
She slowly clicked her tongue while shaking her head . "tsk… tsk… tsk…"
Brushing him off, she waved her hand dismissively. "I'll explain it to you later."
A brief pause followed. Her expression didn't change, but something about her presence did. The casual tone remained, but there was something heavier beneath it now.
"That is… if I even give you a later."
Grub felt it. The sudden shift in the atmosphere.
"Now then," Morrigan continued, tapping her staff lightly against the ground once more, "it's time to start your trial, cutie."
Grub's stomach tightened slightly.
"It'd be a real shame if someone like you turned out to be a spy." Her smile stayed in place. "But if you are…"
She gave a small shrug.
"I'll have to kill you."
The words were spoken casually. But there was nothing casual about what they meant. Then her voice rose again.
"Let's begin the trial of this strange creature!"
Grub's attention shifted slightly to the side.
He gave a glance to Luthiel. She had changed again.
Her bangs had fallen back into place, covering her eyes completely. The softness from before was gone, replaced with that same blank, emotionless expression. She bowed once—this time toward him—before stepping back, creating distance between them.
Grub swallowed. The warmth she had shown him earlier felt like it had never existed.
If he failed this trial—There would be no second chance.