Red Wolf didn't budge. Its feet were grounded atop the scorching sand as if they were incapable of feeling the heat. Its legs were slightly bent as if ready to spring at any moment. Its mouth was parted apart, revealing the glimpse of its fierce teeth. Its predatory eyes didn't seem to know how to part from Isaac, who had fallen for a while by now.
None of the other wolves moved either. They, in silence, rigidness, and discipline that wasn't usually present in animals, waited for Red Wolf to give them the next instruction. Even though they seemed to be running out of patience as judged by their uncontrollably wiggling tails, their behavior didn't change as Red Wolf hadn't made its decision yet.
At last, the beast acted. All that it had to do, without moving, was to blast another round of [Raging Fire] to incinerate both Isaac and Camilla, who had no capability to resist. Yet, the beast decided against such an option, by instead moving. It was walking, slowly approaching the fallen form of two humans. Its eyes contained not that of hostility upon confirming that the enemies were no longer able to fight, but that of curiosity. Specifically, said curiosity was directed at Isaac. No one—not even the wolves—knew the reason why Red Wolf was curious about the young man.
The shadow loomed as Red Wolf leaned down on Isaac.
This was when Camilla's eyes opened slightly. Underneath the agonizing pain, her consciousness momentarily returned, but her vision was blurry and she wasn't in a condition to make an apt judgment or assessment of the current circumstance. However, she did see, Red Wolf looming right above the fallen form of her companion.
A terror overwhelmed her mind. Then, Red Wolf paused.
"Human."
She heard something. Was it that Red Wolf was speaking? Was the Manafold Beast capable of speaking their language? Perhaps, she was hallucinating.
"You are a valiant warrior. A rare kind."
The rage no longer inhabited the beast's eyes. Curiosity, respect, and a small degree of satisfaction were the emotions that were present within the gargantuan wolf.
"Nevertheless… wilderness is cruel." Red Wolf gaped its mouth open, as if about to snap Isaac's relatively tiny frame. "Victor takes it all, and I shall take my loot—"
Its words didn't finish. It abruptly backed off, pupils dilated as if alerted—without piercing Isaac's flesh with its teeth. It clearly sensed something, and that something was enough to keep him alive for a while longer. Judging by how its nose twitched, it smelled something off him.
"Who are you… human."
Slowly, Red Wolf's posture shifted. It revealed an emotion that no one would have thought to be present in a savage beast—bewilderment.
There was a long silence. Camilla breathed weakly, trying to gain the sense of what was going on.
"The time has finally come. After years…" At last, the beast looked up at the scorching sun. "It is just as you said, old friend."
Its eyes then returned to Isaac and briefly dwelled on him, before shifting toward Camilla. Its eyes narrowed.
That was the last scene that Camilla witnessed before her consciousness faded once more.
…
"Isaac."
What is the purpose of life? Isaac, be it Valerius or Nameless, had always wondered. Navigating through good and bad, he experienced this world—and instead of attaining an answer to such a question, he gained more questions after questions.
He didn't know why he was born. However, he didn't want to die. He wanted to feel—the warmth that he once felt in the long past.
He raised his hand. There was a cold sensation.
Snow.
As he looked up, he realized that it was snowing.
"Isaac."
"Mom." He replied to the woman. His own mother—short and modest, but warm and kind. As she always did, she was smiling at him.
"You will catch a cold. Let's go inside."
Yes, it was cold, yet warm. This warmth was what he so sought after ever since he lost it. However, all that ever came ever since wasn't said warmth, but the judgment. People, left and right, judged him based on aspects that he had no control over. He was confused. He was terrified.
Perhaps, the reason why he sought after the approval from Valerius Patriarch and Caspian was because he wanted to feel this warmth again.
"Mother." He muttered. "I miss you."
It wasn't about being right or wrong. He simply… wanted not to lose his precious memories of his mother, in the middle of this rotten world that he came to despise.
In the end, he admitted, that he was someone who lived in the past.
"Will I… get to see you again?" He asked. However, this time around, there was no reply. "Mother?" He turned. There was no one. He reached his hand out, as if trying to reach for someone who was supposed to be there but wasn't—then, by the time he realized, he found himself raising his arm toward the ceiling, bedridden.
Then came a dry cough, then a wheeze as he realized that he wasn't breathing. The thin mattress that was beneath him shook violently along with his body, and it took a while before he managed to calm his breathing down.
"That's right. I…" The memories returned. He was fighting Red Wolf, surrounded, with Camilla critically injured. Vane and Randal nowhere to be seen. In the end, his body gave, and he instinctively felt that it was his end.
Yet, he was still somehow alive. His limbs were intact, without any scar or sign of getting ripped by the feral bites.
He slowly raised his body up. His head was ringing and aching—because of his numerous uses of cognition acceleration—but otherwise, his body was functional. Some degree of stamina has returned, and he found himself comfortable in a seated position.
Holding his head with his left hand, he placed his feet on the ground. Then, paused.
Something was in his right pocket, one that was supposed to be empty. He reached into the space and felt an odd object that he didn't remember placing it. He brought it out.
It was a stone. One that appeared ordinary and without any special quality. Isaac carefully inspected the item. There was nothing at all that distinguished it from a normal stone—until, he realized that it somehow resembled the stones that he once viewed during the Rite of Manifestation.
For now, he decided to put the stone back into his pocket. Groaning lightly, with his left hand still on his head, he stood up, before falling back onto the mattress out of the dizziness.
"Damn it…" How did he make it out alive? Where was he? He needed information. Moro Raven escaped. The Arsonist died. Red Wolf—did someone else intercept the beast from killing him after he lost his consciousness? Again, what was going on?
He stood up again, this time placing his right hand on the wall before he lost his balance. Slowly, he brought himself to the door, and creaking it open, made his way out.
He found himself in a tiny hallway, and the door which he came out from was one of the six doors presented. It meant that the hallway was the joint that connected six different rooms. Rooms—he was in an inn.
"Inn…" He stared at the open end of the hallway. Slowly walked toward it, with his hand still on one wall. Upon making his way through, he learned that it was the exact inn that the man named Dodyon operated—for the man himself was currently present at the counter, wiping a glass.
"You darn kids… talk about being nuisances." Without looking up, Dodyon felt Isaac's presence. Snorting, he slammed the glass down. "So you've really gone to that place, huh? To hunt that Red Wolf?"
"…Yes." Isaac slowly made his way to the counter. Managed to take a seat without losing his balance. "Am I the only one who made it out?"
"Unfortunately, no." Dodyon jabbed his finger at the hallway that Isaac came from. "You all were knocked out by the door. Everyone was injured quite badly except for you. The smartass boy walked his way here, holding his amputated right arm as if it was the dearest treasure. The muscle boy, his left leg was gone, and the smartass boy was dragging him along with his own arm. Then, there were you and that charcoaled girl."
Isaac paused. He was relieved by the fact that the other two were alive, but the fact that they suffered such injuries… he didn't know what to think of it. In the end, he simply said, "…Why, aren't you insensitive."
"Hmph, whatever." Dodyon grumbled, "I've seen how those two boys arrived. You two though—you suddenly were lying at my doorsteps, already knocked out. Then, the silent one, the older one who seemed to be your teacher or something—that man didn't come. What is it that exactly happened in the ruins?"
Isaac's face darkened as he reflected on the events.
"Flare."
"What?!" Dodyon emerged, eyes widened. "What the fuck, kid! I clearly instructed you not to—"
"It wasn't me. Or any of us." Isaac shook his head. "Some other bastards were there. They killed our assessor and shot the flare on purpose. One of them was cooked alive by Red Wolf himself."
Dodyon fell silent. After a moment, he asked, "names?"
"The one who got cooked alive is Jade the Arsonist—"
"What?!" Dodyon yelled at the top of his lungs, clearly shocked. "That psychopath—what even is he doing there?!" Then, he squinted his eyes in realization, "wait, he died? Good riddance."
"Another one escaped." Isaac tapped his fingers against the counter. "His name is Moro Raven. Any ideas on who he is?"
"No, never heard of him." Dodyon's reply was instant. He then returned to his glass, having lost his interest in a further conversation. "Anyway, wake your injured friends up and leave. I saw the coachman waiting by outside."
Isaac blinked. "…How many days has it been?"
"Two."
Isaac pondered. Then, asked, "how much for ration that can last eleven days for four people?"
Dodyon looked up from the glass. Staring at Isaac flatly, he said, "one gold."
By all means, it was a ridiculous amount. However, Isaac didn't refute. Reaching for his pouch in the vest that has become very filthy by now, he took out the bag and brought out one gold. Handed it over to Dodyon, who appeared flabbergasted.
"…For real?" He muttered, "are you from a rich family—no, you are a Nameless as far as I remember."
"Work. Capital has more opportunities." Isaac placed the pouch back. "One gold for the rooms, food, and saving our lives."
"Well, a win for me." Dodyon shrugged before pocketing the gold coin. He then turned, heading somewhere.
"Where are you going?"
"Pantry." Dodyon made a casual remark, "eleven days of ration, you said."
…
The way back was silent. The coachman didn't dare to make even the smallest sound after seeing the state that the three members of the wealthy families ended up in.
Vane and Randal were pale, having lost a good deal of blood from amputation. Vane, in particular, was holding onto his severed right arm that was wrapped in bandages that Dodyon gave. Randal, whose left thigh has become a stump, appeared to be in an extreme degree of pain, sweating and groaning every time a bump swayed the wagon.
Camilla was in the worst state, however, with severe burns putting her in a dire state. Sticky fluids were seeping out of her broken skins, and Isaac, who was supporting her head with his lap because of the lack of space, could see that her flesh was slowly beginning to rot.
All three of them required an immediate treatment. It was the reason why he, after examining their conditions, immediately brought them to the wagon and left the inn. No one objected, for they themselves kneA-rw what was the best course of action to take for their health.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" Randal was cursing under his breath, his eyes squeezed tight and him sweating profusely. His body was trembling as he bit his lips, trying to deal with the pain.
"I should've…" Vane, on the other hand, mumbled as he looked at Isaac with hollow eyes, "I should've gone in with you… Isaac… heh… what was I thinking even…"
Camilla's weak breathing could be heard beneath the noises the two boys produced.
Isaac didn't say anything.
The mission concluded, and it was a total failure—one that inflicted deep scars on them.