Setting aside the gossip and whispers of her comrades, Yelena refocused her gaze on the two men standing before her—neither of whom had spoken or reacted for a while now.
She seriously couldn't understand them.
How had they gone from fighting in an instant to suddenly stopping as if nothing had happened?
Now, they were just standing there, staring at each other—one with a deadpan look, the other with a curious gaze.
Had their relationship improved?
Or has it gotten worse?
"As her father, I am truly grateful for what you did for Yelena."
At last, the towering man—who, despite his aged voice, had a physique that could hardly be called "old"—finally straightened his stance.
Now that he had fully adjusted from their earlier clash, he spoke again, his voice deep and powerful.
"However, you trespassed into the guerrilla camp without permission. That is something that must be accounted for."
"And what exactly is there to 'account' for?"
Steven shrugged, completely unfazed by the intimidating presence before him.
"I just came to chat with her, that's all."
His tone was relaxed, almost casual.
"Sure, this is your guerrilla camp. But does this land actually belong to you?"
He spread his arms slightly in an exaggerated gesture.
"I mean, is there some sign that says this is your private property? Or one that says 'Non-Infected Keep Out'?"
His complete lack of fear was almost unsettling.
Most people would have at least flinched in the face of this devil-like man, whose skeletal features looked as though he had crawled out of the underworld itself.
But Steven?
Instead of being intimidated, he was actually curious.
He stared directly at the bone-like structure of the man's face, wondering if it was a mask or his real appearance.
Then, as his gaze landed on the flesh surrounding the exposed bone, he finally confirmed the truth—
This was no mask.
This was his actual face.
"So, you said you're her father or something, right?"
Steven suddenly leaned toward Yelena, lowering his voice into a mock whisper.
"Tell me, are you gonna look like this when you get old?"
He gave a visible shudder, as if the thought alone sent chills down his spine.
"I'm telling you right now—that's seriously not a good look."
Yelena shot him a sharp glare.
Of all times, this is when he decides to crack a joke?!
She sighed, somewhat amazed by his ability to maintain such a carefree attitude even now.
To her surprise, the old man actually responded to Steven's comment—something Yelena had never expected.
"Yelena is merely my adopted daughter."
His tone remained calm and composed.
"As for my appearance, this transformation only occurs in Sarkaz Wendigos once they reach adulthood. You have nothing to worry about."
Yelena's eyes widened.
Was her old man actually explaining something to him?!
She had never seen him this talkative before.
Could this really be that so-called 'bond between men' that Steven had mentioned before?
Two men fight, and then they just naturally respect each other?
She didn't know what kind of expression she had to make.
After all—
She had never seen her father lose before.
Granted, it was only a contest of raw strength.
But that alone was enough to shake her perception of Steven's power.
Her father's strength was beyond human limits.
Yet, somehow—
Steven had still won.
Was he even human?!
Meanwhile, Steven awkwardly scratched his head.
"Uh, wait, I didn't mean to say you're ugly."
His expression turned slightly apologetic.
"Actually, I think it looks kind of... cool, in a way."
Then, he glanced at Yelena again.
"It's just that... I don't think that kind of look suits a girl like Yelena, you know? No offense or anything."
His words, though honest, only made the whole conversation even more absurd.
"Your reason for being here isn't entirely justified. However, your strength is undeniable. I won't stop you from doing as you please—so long as it doesn't interfere with the guerrilla fighters."
The monstrous-looking old man walked over to where he had set down his spear and shield, methodically equipping them once again. Only then did he lower his voice and speak to Steven.
"Hah— So, how should I address you? Uncle?"
Steven turned to Yelena with a helpless expression.
To be honest, he found himself quite liking this stiff and rigid old man.
There was something about him that reminded Steven of the retired soldiers he used to visit at veterans' homes—strict, disciplined, and unshakable in their principles.
That kind of personality wasn't bad at all.
"Everyone calls him 'Captain' or 'Patriot'—you might as well do the same," Yelena explained simply.
Then, glancing at the old man, she added:
"His name is Steve, and he's, well…"
But when she turned to introduce Steven in return, she hesitated.
How was she even supposed to describe this guy?
Was he a miner?
A chef?
Or a doctor?
"Just think of me as a traveler."
Steven answered for her, shrugging it off like it was nothing.
He had always lived like a wanderer, drifting from place to place.
"In any case, can you two sit down and have a proper conversation?"
Yelena let out an exasperated sigh.
"Standing between you guys like this is seriously awkward for me."
She wasn't sure why, but despite the lack of hostility, she still had this nagging feeling that these two were just one wrong word away from fighting again.
"Have you considered that we already are having a perfectly civil conversation?"
Steven tilted his head at her with a grin.
"Right, Mr. Patriot?"
"Agreed."
The towering old Wendigo nodded after a brief silence, acknowledging Steven's statement.
"...You two… Are you making fun of me?"
Yelena's cheeks puffed up in frustration, and after stomping her foot a few times, she spun on her heel and stormed back into her tent.
"Fine! Whatever! You two figure it out yourselves—I don't care anymore!"
With an angry huff, she yanked down the tent flaps, blocking them from view.
Finally, her racing heart could have a moment of peace.
Watching her reaction, Steven couldn't help but chuckle.
He had never seen her act so much like a regular girl before.
Then, as he turned back—
He noticed something.
Patriot had been watching him quietly, his deep gaze unwavering.
"She hasn't made an expression like that in a long time."
His voice was still low and calm, but Steven could hear a trace of warmth within it.
A kind of relief that only a parent could have.
A kind of gratitude that went unspoken.
The aging Wendigo still stood tall and firm, his broad shoulders a shield for his people, a presence so strong it seemed like it could hold up the sky itself.
But even he had limits.
Even he couldn't change certain things.
For example—
Yelena's terminal Oripathy.
Every time she used her Arts, she was accelerating her own death.
With the amount of active Originium in her body, any normal person would have already died.
The fact that she was even alive could be considered a miracle.
Back then—
The only thing he could do was try to keep her off the battlefield for as long as possible.
To delay the inevitable.
But Yelena wasn't the type to obey.
Even in a body that was falling apart, her spirit was unbreakable.
She knew her fight was suicidal—
Yet she still chose to protect her comrades.
To fight for him, her father figure, in whatever way she could.
But none of that had ever been necessary.
He had never wanted anyone to bear that burden for him.
He had never needed help.
And yet—
She had done it anyway.
For the longest time, he had prepared himself to receive the news of her death at any moment.
Until—
The man standing before him had appeared.
In all the long years of his Wendigo life, Patriot had never met someone quite like Steven.
He could tell at a glance that the feathery crest on Steven's head, which resembled that of a Liberi, was merely a decoration.
His true race was a mystery.
And even more incredible—
Steven possessed an ability that could heal Oripathy.
To reverse the severe Originium infection that had nearly completely eroded Yelena's body—
To restore her to a state where she was virtually indistinguishable from a normal person—
Such a feat was unheard of.
Even among the Sarkaz, who were known for their ancient and powerful sorceries, no such power had ever been documented.
Everything about this boy screamed mystery.
From their brief exchange earlier, Patriot had also gauged Steven's strength—
And he knew for certain that the young man was at least his equal, if not more.
This, in turn, eliminated any suspicion that Steven might be plotting something against Yelena.
After all, if he had the ability to do so, he could have taken her away at any time.
There was no need for such a convoluted approach.
This was the reason Patriot chose not to interfere with their relationship any further.
As long as he was certain that Steven would not harm Yelena, he could at least put his mind at ease—partially.
"I think it's best if you don't make her angry too often.
Also, her illness isn't completely cured.
That high-burden Originium Art she uses—if possible, she should avoid it as much as she can."
Steven flashed Patriot a smile.
Sure, Yelena's pouting was adorable, but making her mad was easy—calming her down was the real challenge.
However—
What exactly was Patriot trying to say here?
Because right now, this towering warrior looked far more like a protective father than the cold, ruthless guerrilla leader the rumors had described.
"What I mean is—"
"I am truly grateful for everything you've done for Yelena."
"Regardless of what method you used… I owe you a favor."
Patriot stepped closer, now standing towering over Steven.
His crimson eyes gleamed faintly as he looked down at him.
Then—
For the first time, he bowed his head.
The mighty Wendigo, whose back had never bent to anyone, lowered his antlered head before Steven.
Just as Steven was wondering how to respond to this rare gesture of gratitude—
Patriot's next words nearly made him choke on his own breath.
"Even so, I still cannot accept Yelena being with you."
"Until I fully understand your nature and your intentions, this matter is absolutely forbidden."
Yelena: "—Ha!?"
<+>
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