Entering The Luvios Forest

The stems of the trees quickly passed by the boy, his sickle in his left—making sure to not move his right arm too much in case his aching shoulder might feel worse—Midas did his best to keep up with the man. His pupils darted from left to right, trying his best to see anything in the dark that lay in between the trees he so quickly left behind him.

Their path wasn't plastered; roots and branches were scattered around—forcing the boy to pay attention to them; tripping would only slow them down. The scream he heard most definitely originated from a human, yet Midas wasn't able to locate the exact direction it came from—blindly following Avalon, hoping he would know.

Avalon eventually stopped, freezing right in front of the boy; the broadening distance quickly closed again as he arrived next to him. The two of them now staring onto what lay in front of them, stopping as they stood in between bushes and trees.

The first thing Midas saw was the dark color of red that glistened on the patchy grass floor—escaping a lump body, short—the victim's hair a light pink tone, only reaching to her shoulder, a child like he was.

Avalon focused on what feasted on the young flesh, three dark brown-haired hounds that roamed the region—a pack of Colmar, untamed and hungry, their fangs digging into the slim limbs of their prey. The red of the blood tainted the hair surrounding their mouth, chewing on whatever they would be able to digest.

Midas clenched his teeth as he looked down on himself; another had to die because of his lacking skill—possibly able to survive had he not been as slow as he was. His quiet grief was quickly disrupted; Avalon stepped forward, grasping his sword's handle to unsheathe it with a flat sigh.

"Give me backup if there's more of them—Midas…"

His tone was risen, prominent enough to make the ears of the Colmar pack twitch, their heads quickly rising and turning to him—three pairs of yellow eyes snapping onto him as they prepped their limbs to dash towards the man.

Avalon remained calm; all he was able to do was find out who this child was—at least able to inform its parents about their passing. His thinking cut short as two of the Colmar dashed towards him—their blood-stained fur reminded him of the dunewanderers that pillaged the mountains he found Midas in—quite similar to these hounds, as they did so to survive just a bit longer.

Avalon wielded his blade with his left hand, stretching it out as he waited for the perfect time frame—needing to wait until the two beasts were close enough to be struck by him. The third one also readied itself to dash, even though it kept close to the corpse it feasted on—howling at the man instead of attacking, its head risen to the sky.

He was lucky enough that the two of them had similar speed, approaching him nearly perfectly at the same time—his blade rising slightly before his left foot took a step forward, a wide slash that spun a large enough radius to hit the both of them—cutting the throat of one hound, while the other collapsed, whining on the grassy floor as it tried its best to move its paws.

Avalon made tired steps toward the beast, giving the third one enough time to finally approach him. As the weakened Colmar slowed its attempts to get its body up, its yellow shining pupil stared at him—their pupils much tinier than he expected them to be. Avalon looked down at the aching beast for a short moment, returning its gaze, before silencing it with his blade—the metal piercing right through its throat.

Freeing his bloodied blade from the corpse, he eventually turned—mildly surprised why it hadn't attacked. His eyes widening as he registered the sudden quiet that spread out.

In front of him stood the boy, biting his lips as he looked down onto the corpse of the last Colmar that lay at his feet. The rusty sickle cut through its furred throat and stomach once he was able to sneak up to it, its body similarly mauled like the remains of their prey, Midas's hand clutched tightly around the handle of the tool.

Avalon raised his brows; the sudden switch-up caught him off guard—unable to speak for a while as he stood before the boy, the northern desert was now a warzone after all. Avalon tried to make sense of what he saw as he rubbed his closed lids.

"At least these things died with her."

Midas mumbled, his eyes filled with anger—unable to save someone from a threat he would be able to handle. Avalon picked up Midas's hushed words, his hand stopping shortly at the youth's words, his fingers trying to find any clue of who this child possibly belonged to. Crouching down to the corpse, his blade hidden in its holster.

Even though Avalon would like to teach Midas a lesson about morale—his jaw refused to open; a man like he was shouldn't be teaching anyone morale—he was the one who fled when the situation grew serious after all. Roaming through the roughed-up cloth the child had worn, he finally was able to grasp something.

A metal badge, shining in an orangy-brown tone—its color muted by oxidation and covered with blood, its circular shape held onto a piece of robe—runes and symbols were stamped into the metal, in its center a larger rune Avalon recognized almost instantly. This child had no parents to inform—an orphan.

Midas noticed Avalon widening his eyes as he held the metal emblem to his face, watching interestedly as his finger brushed against the engraved metal, slightly bowing down to it.

"What is that…?"

Avalon turned to the face of the child that numbly lay in front of them before answering Midas's question.

"This emblem here—do you see this symbol…? That's the symbol used by the Talentrajer house. They… gather children from all over the place and bring them here to educate them; most of these children don't have any parents and will be sold off to people from the water kingdom."

Avalon stopped for a while, his glance darting back and forth from the medallion in his hand to the face of the dead youngling. His eyes sharpening slightly before he spoke once more.

"The actual house lies much further into the forest—up the central river, that is fed by three other, slimmer flows of water that emerge from the cliffs in which Cascrender lies… That's quite the distance to walk on your own."

Avalon remarked, sighing once more as he stood up from the motionless bodies that surrounded the two of them; Colmar and human blood were indistinguishable from one another, especially with only the human eye; regardless, their smell was enough to make him want to finally leave it behind.

Surprising Midas as he fell into daydreaming again, Avalon held the piece of metal out at him—gesturing the boy to take it by flicking his wrist slightly. Watching him, as Midas reluctantly held onto the metal.

"You were bold enough to at least take out one of these hounds; maybe it could've saved me from being attacked by it… You should keep it; who knows… Maybe this child had a sibling… Anyways, it's probably better to let you handle it."

Midas's dreadful look lit up as his fingers began to clench around the circular metal. Avalon's words reverberated through his head: What if he had been able to save Alma? Had he just dashed out of that room?

Midas closed his lids to calm himself, his sunken gaze looking at the bloodstained metal, the dark liquid still remaining in the edges of the runes that were stomped into the metal. Nodding quietly, as he stashed it into his leather pants, keeping it besides the tiny flask filled with gold that was gifted to him by Alma.

Avalon reluctantly came to terms with the dim expression of the boy in front of him—the thought of having told too much on his mind. Unable to read the youth's mind, he eventually grabbed his bag again, having it dropped into the bushes that surrounded them.

"Alright, Midas… Come on, we still have some distance to make until we can rest."

His tone making it sound like he is unfazed, Avalon readied himself to continue their trip. Looking back to Midas as the youth followed him, glancing back at him as he took deep breaths—trying to get himself to focus on mana circulation again.

Opening his eyes, he blindly looked forward, able to see the stems of the trees he passed through. The uncountable amount of leaves that grew out of their branches melted together to form a mass of ever-stretching green—his sight somewhat becoming foggy, as he tried his best not to focus on any details.

The faint warmth he felt in his limbs gave him enough stability to leave the bloody sight behind—he had to focus on getting into the university after all. He still needed to at least free the desert from the expanding storm—surely that is what Alma wanted him to do.