Ronan's Ride

This man definitely had bad intentions, but to Ronan, it was like a pillow arriving just when he was drowsy—a perfect opportunity, served right to him.

After thinking for a moment, he spoke in a weak, soft voice, "No, Little Ronan was being good. A monster came to our house, and my dad fought it while my mom carried me away. Later, she put me in a wooden barrel and said she was going to find Dad, and they'd come back together to get me."

"Ah, I see..." From the child's brief explanation, the man felt he had already pieced together the truth.

Although there were no villages nearby, there were many families in the duchy who chose to live in more remote areas. This was probably one such family, unlucky enough to encounter a monster. The boy's parents were likely long dead.

Feeling relieved, the man spoke to Ronan more assertively. "But it's not safe for a kid like you to be out here alone. Maybe you went in the wrong direction. Your parents are probably already in the city waiting for you."

"Huh?" Ronan cooperated, his eyes reddening as if he was about to cry. "What should I do?"

The man took Ronan's hand and gently said, "Uncle will help you find them, okay?"

"Uncle is going to help me find my mom and dad?" Ronan looked up, his face full of innocence.

The man grinned widely. "Yes, as long as you follow Uncle obediently, I promise I'll help you find them."

"Little Ronan will be good." Ronan quickly assured him.

The man was very satisfied. "Then let's go."

Ronan obediently agreed, but after taking only a couple of steps while holding the man's hand, he stumbled to the side.

The man grabbed his wrist, pulling him upright. Slightly annoyed, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"It hurts." Ronan pouted, pointing at his feet, his voice soft and sweet. "Uncle, my feet hurt."

The man frowned. The boy's feet were indeed covered in numerous small cuts, mostly from sharp leaves, and because his shoes didn't fit well, he had to limp with each step.

Since the man wanted to reach the town before dark, even though he wasn't thrilled about it, he bent down and picked Ronan up. "Alright, Uncle will carry you."

Ronan nodded pitifully, letting one hand hang down while the other obediently wrapped around the man's neck.

The burly man, standing at six foot three, had no difficulty carrying a small child barely over three feet tall. Now that he had a "free ride," Ronan leisurely took in his surroundings.

Ahead, there was a bamboo grove. As they passed through it, the man quickened his pace, almost breaking into a jog.

Curious, Ronan extended his senses a bit further.

Along the way, he wasn't just observing the environment—he was also examining his own body. His human form was much more useful than his monstrous one. Although not as powerful, he could still tap into the energy of his "true form."

Ronan focused, and invisible black mist began drifting away, moving like ghosts through the forest. He saw several pitch-black monsters hunting animals within the woods.

Guessing that the man was trying to avoid them, Ronan kept silent, only tightening the arm wrapped around the man's neck.

The man noticed Ronan's small movements and whispered, "Don't be afraid. Uncle won't let the Rajang hurt you."

"...So that pitch-black humanoid creature was called Rajang," Ronan thought.

"Don't cry, okay?" the man said uneasily, glancing down to remind him.

Ronan responded with a soft "mm," and his dangling hand shifted to clutch the man's shirt.

The man quickened his pace, breathing heavier as he carried Ronan. From time to time, Ronan's head brushed against the man's chin. Feeling tickled, the man adjusted Ronan higher.

The bamboo in this strange world was incredibly thick, each stalk as wide as an adult's waist. The poles were segmented, with many long, slender branches growing out, each one covered with densely packed, blade-like green leaves, leaving no gaps. This canopy blocked out the sky, creating a stifling atmosphere. Occasionally, a breeze rustled through, producing a soft, eerie sound. With so little sunlight able to penetrate to the ground, the thick shadows gave the unsettling impression that countless monsters could be lurking within.

The man was worried that Ronan might start crying and attract the Rajang, while Ronan feared that the Rajang would notice the man, and he would lose his "ride." In that moment, they were perfectly in sync. Luckily, after about ten minutes, they made it through without incident.

Once outside, bathed in sunlight again, the man stopped and exhaled a long breath of relief.

Ronan gently nudged him and whispered in his ear, "Uncle, I'm hungry."

"You're hungry?" The man didn't stop walking. With one hand supporting Ronan's legs, he reached into his pocket with the other and pulled out a piece of black biscuit, handing it to Ronan. "Here, eat this for now."

Ronan took it immediately. Starving, he bit into it with a large mouthful—only to nearly break his teeth.

"Ugh..." Staring at the cookie with his saliva on it, Ronan grimaced. "Uncle, it's really hard."

"Hard?" The man frowned, feeling impatient, though he still pretended to be gentle. "Just suck on it for a bit before chewing."

"..." Suck on it? Fine, he had to lower his head under the eaves for now—it wasn't time to flip the tables yet.

The man said no more, focusing on carrying Ronan and hurrying along, while Ronan silently treated the cookie like candy, softening it bit by bit with his saliva.

And so, each of them, lost in their own thoughts, finally reached the human town before nightfall.

From a distance, Ronan could see the small town built on the hillside. As they neared, more travelers appeared on the road. Ronan observed their clothing—mostly long shirts and trousers, nothing special. If there was anything different from his previous life, it was that everyone here carried weapons.