William's steps died instantly. His feet were nailed to the blood-slicked earth, refusing to move an inch further.

  His breath caught in his throat. What lay before him was no longer a battle; it was a horrifying, unilateral execution.

  He saw Arka.

  Yet, this was not the "slacker" youth who had challenged him in the palace courtyard yesterday afternoon. The figure before him was the literal definition of a nightmare. Arka moved with speed and strength that defied reason, unleashing the beast that had been caged beneath his human skin.

  Under Arka’s grip, the Anukh-Ramj—that dread creature feared by so many soldiers—was now nothing more than a lump of meat screaming in despair.

  "Grrhhhh..."

  A low growl escaped Arka’s throat, wet and primal.

  William saw clearly as Arka looked up slightly. Those eyes... eyes that previously only sparked with mischief were now fully drowned in deep blood-red. His pupils elongated, sharp as an apex predator’s.

  And that smile.

  Arka’s lips pulled back unnaturally wide, baring rows of teeth that appeared elongated and sharp—a hungry, fanged grin. With a suppressed, mad laugh, Arka’s hands moved wildly, tearing apart the body of the Anukh-Ramj without mercy.

  Rrrripp!

  The sound of flesh being rent and bones being forcibly snapped rang loud in William’s ears. The creature’s black blood sprayed, soaking the face of Arka, who grinned in satisfaction. No martial arts technique, no elegant magic. Only the pure instinct to destroy, tear, and exterminate prey.

  William shuddered in horror, yet could not look away.

  Is this... his mind reeled. Is this the true form of that 'Mountain Child'?

  William forced his legs to step forward, piercing the remnants of killing intent that still hung thick in the air.

  As the distance between them closed, Arka did not turn fully. The youth merely turned his head slightly. A lightning-fast glance from the corner of an eye still burning red—the gaze of a predator just satiated, indifferent, regarding William’s presence as no more important than gravel on the road.

  William shifted his gaze downward, to the pile that had just been destroyed.

  The laws of nature seemed not to apply to creatures like the Anukh-Ramj. The dead body did not decompose naturally; instead, it began to reject its own existence in the human world.

  Slowly, the carcass began to evaporate.

  The torn flesh transmuted into pitch-black fog, as if invisible wind blades were mincing the particles of darkness in the air. The sight was truly harrowing; William could see the texture of rotting meat melting, shards of porous bone crumbling to dust, and the tattered black cloth that—disgustingly—appeared stitched into the creature’s festering black flesh.

  All these grotesque elements vibrated, unraveling from their physical bonds.

  One by one, the scattered parts began to sublime. Black pus, dirty cloth, and brittle bone vanished, sucked into thin smoke that smelled of copper, then were completely swallowed by the wind, leaving no proof that the monster had ever stood there.

  William saw Arka’s nostrils twitch subtly. The youth sniffed the air, as if sorting one specific scent amidst the pollution of battle stench.

  Suddenly, Arka turned to him with a grin.

  "Yooo, Blondie! You assigned to Gate 134 too, huh?"

  William gasped, his steps nearly halting.

  How? he thought in disbelief.

  His disguise was perfect. He wore a thick raincoat deliberately smeared with pungent spice oil to confuse his natural scent. The dark blond hair typical of the Lavin line had been dyed jet black. Even his forehead, still throbbing with pain, was covered tight by a wide cloth headband to hide that iconic purple bruise.

  Amidst the chaos of colliding scents—the metallic tang of blood, ozone from residual magic, acid rain, and wet mud—this wolf’s nose was apparently just as sharp. He could pierce through every layer of deception.

  The rain poured harder over the ruins. Finally, they decided to take shelter on the porch of an old barracks with a half-collapsed roof.

  William lowered the burden from his shoulders. He unpacked his military rucksack, then carefully placed his broadsword onto the damp wooden floor. The sound of heavy metal meeting old wood was solid.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He reached into the bag again, pulling out a waterproof plastic package, then tossed its contents toward Arka.

  "Wear this."

  It was a change of clothes William had brought: a black shirt made of breathable fabric and tactical cargo trousers—pitch-black field pants with many functional pockets on the thighs and waist.

  However, Arka did not put them on immediately.

  Casually, without a shred of shame, the 'mountain wolf' stripped naked right there. He stepped to the edge of the porch, standing directly under a leaking gutter, letting the torrent of rain from the roof wash his body. Black mud and monster blood washed away, merging with the puddles on the ground.

  William’s eyes, sharp and analytical, could not help but assess. He stared at the youth’s back and shoulders.

  Impressive, he admitted silently.

  Arka’s body was not formed by weight training in a luxury palace gym. His muscle mass was not bulky, but lean, dry, and extremely solid. Every fiber of muscle visible beneath that wet skin looked like steel wire pulled taut.

  It was a body built for pure efficiency. A combination William rarely encountered: the perfect balance between explosive power and agility.

  William observed the wide shoulder bone structure tapering to a slim waist, and the sturdy legs.

  Perfect anatomy, William concluded coldly. He was indeed born a war machine.

  William snorted roughly, then snatched a dry towel from his bag and threw it with a strong jerk—right at the youth’s face.

  "Wear something, Fool," William growled, eyes narrowing sharply. "You are too confident parading your life like that in the open."

  Arka merely chuckled crisply. The youth’s hand moved like lightning, snatching the flying towel from the air before the cloth could touch his face. Casually, he scrubbed his soaking wet hair until it was messy, then began to don the borrowed clothes.

  The tactical cargo trousers fit his waist, and the black shirt wrapped his athletic frame decently.

  While adjusting the shirt collar, Arka turned. "By the way, your name?"

  "William," he answered briefly. No surname, no title.

  The sky seemed to respond to the brief introduction with a rumble of thunder. The rain fell harder, turning into a giant curtain of water trapping them on the porch of the old barracks.

  While Arka busied himself with his trouser buttons, William’s eyes swept the surroundings again with quick, vigilant movements. His brow furrowed deep.

  Silence. Too silent for a defense post.

  Damn, William cursed inwardly. Theodore really followed my orders literally... or perhaps even more.

  He observed the guard post, the watchtower, the defensive trenches. All dead. No soldiers patrolling. No priests or healers on standby with recovery spells.

  "Damn it..." he hissed softly. "There truly is no one here. Just me and this wild animal."

  Driven by mounting suspicion, William strode quickly toward the logistics shed door behind them. He poked his head into the darkness of the room.

  Completely empty.

  The sound of his breath echoed in the vast, hollow space. No stacks of ration crates, no spare weapons, no medicine. The floor was clean, as if Theodore had deliberately moved all vital logistics before William arrived.

  William stood frozen in the doorway, feeling a chill not from the rain crawl up his spine. He stared into the empty darkness with disbelief.

  He didn't just disguise my identity, William thought, jaw hardening to suppress anger mixed with apprehension. He left me abandoned without a shred of support.

  A terrifying question crossed his mind, sharp and cold.

  That old man... does he intend to kill me?

  They stepped into the main room. The atmosphere inside was barely better than the darkness outside.

  William looked up, his eyes staring bleakly at the only light source on the ceiling. A 5-watt yellow LED bulb blinked weakly, struggling desperately to illuminate a room this vast. Its light was dim, pathetic, and hurt the eyes.

  William snorted roughly. Even down to the lightbulb Theodore replaced it, he thought sarcastically. That old man really defines 'austerity' to an extreme level.

  He pulled his gaze from the pitiful ceiling when a familiar scent greeted his nose. The smell of expensive spices and soothing sandalwood—the signature scent of his private wardrobe in the palace.

  Arka stood beside him. Wearing the borrowed black shirt that still held the scent of luxury, the mountain boy approached. However, the expression on his face ruined any aesthetic of the expensive clothing.

  Arka’s eyes were perfectly round, sparkling as they stared at William’s rucksack. By God, William swore he saw the tip of the youth’s tongue protrude slightly, wetting his dry lips.

  Tch, William swore inwardly. This dog is hungry.

  Reluctantly, William reached into his backpack again. He pulled out two packs of dense wheat biscuits and a pack of military-grade smoked jerky. He threw them at Arka.

  "Eat," he ordered curtly.

  Arka snatched them from the air and tore the packaging with his teeth in seconds. The crunch crunch sound of biscuits being demolished was loud.

  William’s eyes bulged seeing the speed of consumption.

  "Hey! Don't be greedy, Fool!" William snapped, his hand reflexively stopping Arka’s hand from opening the second pack. "Listen well. The logistical supply in this bag is our life for the next three days. Until the first opening of the Dark Gate."

  William pointed at the empty wrapper in Arka’s hand furiously. "And you... you just finished my ration for a day, Bastard!"

  Arka stopped chewing for a moment. He turned with a feigned innocent look.

  "Huh...?" Arka mumbled unclearly, biscuit crumbs falling from the corner of his lips. "What? Can't hear..."

  Without a shred of guilt, Arka shoveled a large piece of jerky into his mouth, ignoring William’s protest.

  William clenched his fist, restraining the urge to hit that head. He saw Arka’s cheeks now bulging full on both sides, moving up and down as he chewed with relish. The fierce face that had torn apart a monster now looked ridiculous, like an overloaded squirrel.

  "You damn dog..." William growled softly, feeling his bruised forehead throb again.

  William hadn't had the chance to vent his anger, but the sight before him left him gaping in disbelief.

  Arka, cheeks still puffed full of food, suddenly dropped his body onto the hard plank floor.

  Thud.

  No mat, no pillow, no preparation.

  His eyes were shut tight, yet his mouth still moved slowly, chewing the remnants of his looted sustenance with an automatic mechanism. Arka’s right hand lifted limply, waving randomly at the empty air as if greeting a friend in dreamland.

  "Byeeee... I wanna sleep first..." he mumbled incoherently, voice muffled by a wad of jerky. "Take turns guarding, okay..."

  The hand flopped to the floor. Numb.

  One second. Two seconds.

  Snooore... pheeew...

  A soft but rhythmic snore was heard immediately, filling the silence of the gloomy room. He was totally asleep. Passed out in satiety.

  William stood frozen there, staring at the mound of deeply sleeping human with his jaw dropped. A vein in his temple throbbed fast, signaling emotion that had hit the ceiling but couldn't escape.

  He stared at the ceiling, then back at Arka.

  "Damn," he cursed softly, full of emphasis and despair.