Chapter 20: Chapter 19 - Into The Unknown

A groan of pain echoed from behind her. Whatever that golden light was, it had been strong enough to pierce through her stomach, and strike Rein as well.

“Sorry,” Rein said, his voice low but steady. “I don’t know if you were lying when you surrendered. Maybe you weren’t. But we couldn’t afford to lower our guard again. We’re strangers in this place. You understand that kind of desperation, don’t you?”

His arms loosened as he gently laid Syderis onto the ground. Then he sat before her, one hand pressed against his own stomach. But unlike hers, there was no blood soaking through his clothes. His were still spotless.

His eyes flicked between her face and the growing stain on her dark outfit, the pained expression on his face tightening.

“You’re not going to die from this… are you?” he asked.

Syderis couldn’t answer. Her mouth felt heavy. Her stomach burned. She wanted to say something, anything.

“I’ve been curious,” Rein said quietly, almost wistfully. “How you controlled those blades… I had so many questions. It’s a shame. Maybe, if there’s ever a time you don’t want to kill us, we could talk.”

“…But… I don’t want to kill you,” Syderis said, her voice barely a whisper.

Blood slipped from the corner of her mouth. The warmth in her stomach was spreading, soaking her clothes. She couldn’t even tell how much she was losing, only that it was too much.

“Stop talking. You’re bleeding out,” Rein said quickly, guilt shadowing his face. “I didn’t expect that attack to hurt you this badly.”

He pulled out a small pouch and retrieved a bottle containing a shimmering golden liquid. After uncorking it, he poured some into his palm, then reached out and carefully supported her from behind. His hand pressed the liquid gently against her stomach wound.

“General!” a voice called out behind her.

“Paion,” Rein muttered, glancing left before locking eyes with the approaching healer. His brows lifted in surprise. “You’ve already healed everyone? Even with wounds that severe? That quickly?”

“It’s not the norm,” Paion replied. “But I can’t fight. Healing’s all I’m good for.”

Rein stared at him for a moment, eyes sharp. Then, as if reminded by the blood soaking his hand, he flinched slightly, pulled back to the present by its warmth. He shook his head and looked down at Syderis again.

“She’s lost too much blood,” he said. “I gave her a dose of medicine, but I don’t know if it’ll be enough to fix something this serious. Can you handle it?”

Paion nodded without hesitation. “Yes. Leave her to me.”

Relief washed over Rein's face. His shoulders sagged slightly, tension bleeding out of his body.

“Anyway, we're heading out now, opposite from your base, just like we promised,” Rein said, pausing for a beat. “Sorry for everything. If we ever cross paths again, I'll try to make it up to you. I’m still curious about the two of you, especially how you managed things I didn’t even know were possible. But after everything that’s happened, I doubt we’ll be having a proper conversation anytime soon. For now, we’ll stay out of your way. Morin, let’s go.”

He stood, turned his back to them, then hesitated. One last glance, at the now-healed men, at Syderis and Paion, and at Fomor, who was finally awake, though still seated and watching silently.

Without another word, Rein snapped his head forward and began running, Morin right behind him.

“Wait...” Syderis called out, her voice weak.

But they didn’t stop. They didn’t even slow. Her words seemed lost in the wind—until Morin turned her head back for a brief moment mid-stride. There was something fleeting in her gaze—something Syderis couldn’t quite place, before she quickly looked away again.

Their figures grew smaller and smaller, swallowed up by the hills.

With Rein gone—the source of that strange, intoxicating scent of blood—the dark clouds, the fog, and the ache in her skull returned, like the slow gathering of storm winds. The temporary clarity she had felt now seemed like the fading traces of a dream. Paion's healing dulled the pain in her stomach, but her head throbbed with renewed intensity, worse than before, now that she’d known a moment of freedom.

And as if summoned by that pain, the anger returned—hot, irrational, hungry. The urge to cut, to slash, to kill—it all came back in waves. But her body, too weak to move, held her hostage in stillness. And for that, she was grateful.

Now, only the scent of her own blood lingered, foul and metallic, lacking the sweet, refreshing undertone she’d sensed in the blood of the white-haired stranger.

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“Ugly,” she thought.

Her eyes drifted, tracing the fractured horizon of the realm. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Her breath echoed in her ears, steady and soft like a lullaby. Her eyelids grew heavy, the world hazier with each blink.

Then, at last, she slept.

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“You okay?” Morin asked from beside Rein as they ran.

“Yeah,” Rein replied, pressing a hand to his stomach. “It didn’t pierce me, thanks to my clothes—and Syderis taking most of the hit—but it still felt like a punch to the gut.”

Back inside the whale, Rein had been battered by debris, slammed into a giant scale, kicked hard, and struck by all sorts of heavy things. Compared to that, this bruising felt minor. He expected the blast to leave a serious mark—it had been small but dense, possibly stronger because of its concentrated form—but to his surprise, the damage wasn’t as bad as it should’ve been.

His skin didn’t sting at the touch like it normally would after such an impact. Even the bruises from Syderis’s hits were fading quicker than expected, especially the one on his back from her elbow. It was like his body was adapting, not just to the pain, but to the trauma itself.

Kind of like how the immune system adjusted to viruses, he thought, remembering a book he'd read back on Rigel, written by Spiritkind scholars. Even the healing method he’d picked up from the whale seemed to be accelerating. The pain that used to linger was now fading faster, as if his body was learning.

Morin’s cuts were fading, now reduced to faint, barely visible red lines across her pale skin. She had greater mastery over her Pneuma and could produce more of it, so it wasn’t surprising that she adapted to the whale’s healing method faster than he did.

As Rein glanced at her face, he noticed something, an expression he hadn’t seen on her before. Subtle, almost imperceptible... but it was there.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Morin replied.

But after a few seconds of silence, when Rein didn’t press further, she spoke again.

“I think... something’s wrong with my heart. It feels like someone’s squeezing it.”

“What? That sounds serious! That could be dangerous, can you remember what caused it?”

“When… when I saw that girl’s face. And the wound I caused. All that blood on her. I think... it’s the same feeling I felt when I heard Mr. Whale’s story.”

Rein exhaled, a wave of relief washing over him. “Morin… that’s not a bad thing at all. You should hold on to that feeling. It’s called sympathy, feeling someone else’s pain as your own.”

He smiled softly. “It confused me too, the first time I read about it. But the more I learned about mortals, the more I began to understand. I know that word was never taught back on Rigel, and honestly, I probably would've been executed just for saying it.”

“Sympathy,” Morin repeated, almost to herself, her eyes reflecting a quiet wonder.

Rein smiled at her reaction, then faced forward and kept running.

Jagged, rocky hills surrounded them as they ran. They weren’t towering like mountains, but they were large and sprawling enough to easily conceal multiple people. It was no wonder the Half-Giant and his men had managed to stay hidden behind them despite their numbers. The hills varied so wildly in size and shape that they looked more like the work of someone’s hand than the product of nature.

Rein didn’t know exactly where he was headed. Only that they needed to move in the opposite direction of where Paion had pointed out their base was. The goal was simple: put as much distance between themselves and the enemy as possible. Hopefully, they’d find a source of food soon, before the whale’s gift of fruit finally ran out.

He glanced at the small figure running beside him. Morin looked ahead with curiosity, her face now calm and untroubled. Not a trace of worry remained.

Seeing her like that always gave him a strange sense of reassurance, that everything would work out somehow, that the future would sort itself out. They had already stared death in the face more than once, several times in just a few short weeks. Compared to being swallowed by a massive serpent or nearly melted alive by magma, starvation didn’t seem all that terrifying anymore.

When Rein looked ahead again, he came to a sudden stop. His sandals scraped loudly against the dry earth, skidding until he finally halted.

A figure stood in their path, arms at their sides, perfectly still. From this distance, they looked to be about Morin’s height. A tattered brown cloak draped over their entire body, face completely hidden beneath the shadow of the hood. Only their hands and feet were visible, and even from afar, something about them felt... off. But it was hard to tell exactly what.

Not again, Rein thought. I’m tired. Of fighting, of thinking. I just want to rest.

His eyes locked onto the figure, body tensing, ready to flee or strike at the first sign of aggression. The heat and exhaustion made him blink, and in that single moment, the figure vanished. When he opened his eyes, they were suddenly standing right in front of him.

Impossible.

Crossing that much ground in the time it took to blink? How? They’d seen mass healing, blades manipulated from a distance, but teleportation now, too?

Morin acted without hesitation, lashing out with a swift kick. But her foot sliced through nothing. The figure had already vanished again, back to where they stood before. This time, though, something was different.

The hood had fallen.

What it revealed was a Human-like face, but not entirely. Two animal-like ears rose from their head, twitching slightly in the dry wind.

Beastkind?

Both of the stranger’s arms were now raised, an apparent gesture of surrender.

Lying on the ground before Rein were familiar, round, crimson objects. Fruits.

“Please, come with me. I’m not here to fight,” the stranger said.

The voice was smooth, almost melodic, feminine at first impression, but with a deeper undercurrent that hinted at something masculine. Rein couldn’t tell for sure. Honestly, he was too exhausted to care. His mind was already overworked trying to gauge the stranger’s intentions; guessing their gender was the least of his concerns. In fact, he was so drained that, for a brief moment, he almost agreed to follow them without question.

But some sliver of instinct still flickered inside him, telling him not to drop his guard just yet.

“Who are you? And are you with them?” Rein asked, thumbing behind him.

“I’m Lyneis. A Beastkind,” the stranger replied calmly. “And no, I’m not with them. In fact, my allies and I are firmly against them.”

“Lyneis, huh… So what do you want with us? And why are you on the opposing side?”

And are you a guy or a girl? he nearly asked, but kept it to himself. It wasn’t important.

“I saw you fight. You're both strong, perhaps stronger than most of us. If you lend us your help, we can offer you a place to stay, and provide anything you need, as long as it's within our means. As for why we're on opposing sides... I’ll explain once we return to the ruins.”