"Let me go!" Aron shouted, voice raw. His eyes blazed as he stepped forward, sword raised, ready to charge the beast head-on.
"Don't be stupid!" Grell snarled, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him back. "You'll die!"
"But Duren—!"
"I SAID RUN!"
Grell shoved him hard. The order cracked through the chaos like a whip. The others were already moving—Yoric and Leif dragging Duren's bloodied form between them, Maren flanking the rear, Juna limping but still armed.
The Ravager roared and pursued, crashing through undergrowth like a nightmare with purpose, faster than any of them.
And it was gaining.
Step by step, the sound of its claws tore at the earth. Its breath came in sharp snarls. The weight of its rage pressed against their backs like a wave about to crash.
Then—
A golden flash split the mist.
BOOM.
The shockwave hit them first. Air exploded outward, throwing them to the ground like rag dolls. Dust, leaves, and mana residue whipped around them in a vortex of light. For a moment, no one could see anything.
Aron coughed, blinking. The world rang in his ears.
"What… was that?" Maren wheezed.
They turned—one by one—to see where the flash had struck.
The Ravager, the same monstrous figure that had hunted them like animals, now lay sprawled across the dirt.
Its body trembled.
A massive gash, deep and clean, ran from shoulder to hip—black blood pouring freely from the wound.
And above it…
Stood a figure.
Cloaked in long black, lined with golden dust still flickering from the strike. A sword in hand—simple, aged, yet impossibly sharp.
Canis.
He didn't say anything at first. He stood still, the tip of his blade hovering just inches from the Ravager's skull.
The monster, still conscious, trembled beneath him. Not in pain.
In fear.
Canis's voice broke the silence.
"You're not the one I met before," he said softly.
"But you speak."
His blade lowered slightly—still aimed, still cold. "You're weaker. Sloppier. Crude."
His eyes narrowed.
"So who are you?"
The others couldn't speak. No one could.
Even the Ravager—the thing that had laughed at their formation, outpaced their fighters, nearly killed one of them—only wheezed, blood pooling beneath it, eyes wide with recognition.
And dread.
---
The Ravager coughed wetly beneath Canis's blade, black ichor spilling from its lips. But there was no fear in its voice now—only a strange, hollow reverence.
"I was commanded," it rasped. "By someone who seeks… the child. The one with divine blood in his veins."
Aron's breath caught.
Canis's eyes sharpened.
"Who gave the order?" he asked, voice low, dangerous.
The monster's mouth curled into a grotesque smirk. "You would know them by name… but I was told not to speak it."
That was enough.
Canis's grip tightened. He raised his sword, no longer willing to entertain cryptic games.
But before the killing blow could land—
CRACK—
A spike of frost burst from the trees to the right. Ice exploded outward in a sudden, magical detonation, engulfing Canis and the Ravager in a solid prism of shimmering blue. The temperature dropped in an instant—cold enough to burn the lungs.
The group scrambled back in shock.
"Canis!" Grell shouted.
But before any of them could move, a violent pulse erupted from the heart of the ice.
Less than a minute passed before the frozen shell shattered, shards flying in every direction like glinting knives.
Canis emerged, teeth gritted, body steaming with magic. His cloak fluttered wildly, aura flaring gold and angry.
The Ravager, now free as well, didn't stay. It hissed once—then was swallowed by a swirl of thick red smoke, vanishing like a shadow at dusk.
"Damn it!" Canis roared, slamming his blade into the earth. "Who did that?!"
The answer came in the form of a slow, deliberate set of footsteps crunching over frost-laced dirt.
A woman stepped out from the woods.
She wore a tailored black military coat, the insignia too unfamiliar to recognize. Her long hair flowed like ink in the wind, and her eyes—impossibly bright, unnaturally red—glowed with disdain.
With an overwhelming Beauty.
But what unsettled Canis the most was her face looked like Mariposa.
But younger. Sharper. Harsher.
"What is the Bloodminers doing here? You scum always make noise everywhere"
He turned to her, blade still burning in his hand. "Who are you?"
The woman tilted her head. "Typical Bloodminers response."
Silence fell.
Even the birds dared not chirp.
Canis's expression twisted into fury. "I'm not a Bloodminers."
She smiled—cold and cruel.
"That's a bad lie."
The blade in Canis's hand rose in a heartbeat.
"You make me sick lady, fine."
The woman's answer was just as quick. Frost spiraled up her arms as two blades of ice formed—one in each hand, elegant and deadly.
They both moved.
In the same breath, they shot forward, closing the gap between them in an instant.
But before their weapons met, a voice screamed from behind:
"Stop!"
Both turned sharply as a commanding presence cut through the air like thunder.
"Canis! Shina!"
It was Mariposa.
Panting. Wide-eyed. Her presence alone froze the fight mid-air.
Her voice wasn't just a plea.
It was an order.
---
The Next Day – Outskirts of the Frontier City
The wind was gentle that morning.
The usual scent of ash and steel had been replaced by soil, wildflowers, and the faint perfume of incense. A hill not far from the city walls had been cleared—the same ground where other warriors had been laid to rest, marked by simple stones and weather-worn banners.
A fresh grave stood at the center.
Duren's.
His crossbow was placed atop the mound of earth, polished and still, with one bolt left in the quiver. Not as a weapon—but as a reminder of the shot he never got to take.
Grell stood beside the grave, head bowed, helmet held in one hand.
Yoric and Leif flanked him, both silent. Maren had a hand on Aron's shoulder, grounding him as he stared blankly at the dirt, unsure how to feel. His first mission… and someone had died.
Juna stood further back, arms crossed, jaw tight. She hadn't said a word since sunrise.
And behind them, just a few steps apart from the rest, stood Canis. His coat still bore the faint tears from the battle, and his eyes—distant, unreadable—were fixed on the crossbow, as if trying to memorize it.
Mariposa was there, too.
She wore a long, muted blue cloak, and for once, no armor. Her hair was tied back, and her usually sharp expression was softened—respectful, if not mournful.
She had insisted on the grave being placed here.
"Not in the city's cemetery," she had said. "Duren was a warrior. He died out there. Let him rest where the wind can reach him."
No one had argued.
A priest said a few words. Brief, dignified. The kind warriors preferred.
When it was over, the group lingered in silence.
Grell finally stepped forward and placed a small tin flask beside the grave. "Saved this for the end of the mission," he muttered. "Guess you beat us to it, you bastard."
Yoric let out a slow breath. Leif closed his eyes for a moment, and Maren whispered something under her breath—too soft to hear.
Aron stayed still.
He thought of Duren's laugh. The way he had squinted at the trail, the way he had joked about hybrid monsters. He thought of the blood.
And the fear.
Canis approached the grave last.
He didn't say anything at first. Just stood there.
Then, almost inaudibly, he said, "We weren't supposed to lose anyone."
No one answered.
He looked up at the horizon, at the trees far beyond the walls. "We buried him. But we haven't ended this."
His voice was soft, but every word landed heavy.
---
After the Funeral – Beneath the Cedar Tree, a Bit Away from the Crowd
The sky was a faded orange, and the wind carried the faint remnants of prayers whispered by the mourners.
Canis stood leaning against the trunk of a large tree, one hand resting lightly on the shallow wound at his side that had yet to fully heal. In front of him stood Mariposa—or Lucy, as he used to know her—with her hands behind her back, eyes fixed on the small hill where Duren had been buried.
"Thank you," Canis said quietly, his tone sincere. "For making sure Duren got the funeral he deserved."
Lucy turned to him and gave a faint smile. "Of course. I know you knew him better than you let on. I just... did a small part. The rest was all of you."
"I knew him for a long time," Canis continued, eyes dropping to the earth. "Since his first day at the guild—before he had a name, before people cared who he was. He… never changed."
Lucy nodded. "He was a good man. And so are you, Canis. Even if you try hard not to show it."
A tired, faint smile touched Canis's lips.
A few seconds passed in silence before he added, "I don't hate you, Lucy."
Lucy looked briefly surprised, but her smile returned.
"I still respect you. As my senior. Whatever happened back then… it's behind us now," Canis said.
Lucy stepped a little closer. "I'm glad to hear that. Really. You've always been like a little brother to me. Even if you're a bit too stubborn."
Canis nodded slowly, though his expression shifted when he said, "But one thing—I didn't know you had a younger sister."
"Shina, huh?" Lucy sighed. "It makes sense you didn't know. You never met her. She is four years younger than me, but still, she's one year older than you."
Canis gave her a look and raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't automatically mean I have to respect her."
Lucy laughed—softly, the way she used to. Like the days had never gotten complicated. "You haven't changed a bit."
"And apparently she hasn't figured out how to introduce herself without freezing half the field," Canis muttered, glancing at the sky turning shades of violet.
Lucy squinted at him. "I hope the two of you can get along someday."
"I hope she learns how to speak properly first."
"Canis," Lucy said with a gentle smile. "Stop calling me Mariposa, will you? That's the family name. I'd rather you just call me Lucy again—like before."
Canis was quiet for a moment, then gave a single nod. "Alright, Lucy."
---
Evening – Guild Hall
The guild hall was quiet. No new recruits that day. No usual rowdy chatter from the adventurers. Canis sat in a corner near the window, a cup of black coffee steaming on the wooden table. One hand cradled the cup, the other held a slim cigarette still smoldering at the tip.
The last rays of sunlight filtered through the glass, casting long shadows across the stone floor.
He took a slow breath, gazing out the window. Toward the forest. Toward the place where things had started to stir again.
"That boy…" he murmured. "Divine blood, huh…"
He exhaled a stream of smoke and took a small sip of coffee. Bitter. But familiar.
Canis closed his eyes for a moment, letting the silence wash over him. For a brief instant, he was that man again—the fighter who had seen too much.
But also, just for that moment, he was a tired man remembering what peace used to feel like.
{Chapter 4 End}