31. A New Resolve

Chapter 31: A New Resolve

My muscles were still screaming, every fiber in my body reminding me that the fight with those damn wolves wasn't just a bad dream. It was real, and it nearly tore me apart. My breath came slow and measured as the carriage rocked forward, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on dirt filling the air. The twins, Lashley and Neralia, sat across from me, unusually quiet. Their usual bratty, condescending attitudes had all but vanished, replaced by an uneasy silence. I wasn't complaining—it was a nice change of pace.

They glanced at me occasionally, their gazes softer than usual. It seemed that seeing me nearly get shredded alive by oversized furballs had given them a newfound respect—or maybe just pity. Either way, I welcomed the peace. For once, there was no snide remark, no biting comment, just blessed quiet. I leaned back, letting the carriage's movement lull me into a semi-relaxed state, though every jolt sent a sharp reminder through my battered body.

A few hours passed this way, the sun sinking lower in the sky, painting the world in hues of orange and gold. Eventually, the driver—a beastkin with fox-like ears and a swishing tail—pulled the horses to a halt. The spot he chose was perfect: a small clearing nestled against a backdrop of tall trees, with a bubbling stream nearby. It was a peaceful little sanctuary, just what we needed after the chaos of the day.

We set up camp quickly. The twins, to my mild surprise, worked without complaint. Lashley gathered wood for the fire, while Neralia unpacked supplies. Meanwhile, I helped the beastkin driver tend to the horses, not because I particularly cared for the animals, but because it gave me something to do that didn't involve my aching muscles screaming at me.

Dinner came soon after, and damn, was it good. The main course was meat—lots of it. Grilled to perfection over the campfire, it was accompanied by rice and even more meat. My kind of meal. The beastkin driver, who had remained mostly quiet up until now, brought out a flask and poured me a drink. The stuff burned going down but left a pleasant warmth in its wake.

"Thanks," I said, raising the flask in a casual toast. The beastkin's ears twitched, and though he said nothing, the slight bow of his head told me enough. He was thanking me in his own way for taking down the wolves.

Surprisingly, Lashley and Neralia didn't say a word about the exchange. Normally, I'd expect some snide comment about how I was drinking with the help, but they just ate quietly, occasionally glancing my way. Gratitude or exhaustion, I didn't care which—I was enjoying this new dynamic.

We finished the meal, and as agreed, I took the first watch. The others retreated to their makeshift beds, leaving me alone by the fire. I stared into the flames, their flickering dance captivating in its simplicity. My senses stretched outward, feeling for any trace of human ki in the vicinity. It was quiet—too quiet. But I welcomed the stillness, letting it mask the storm of thoughts in my head.

I nearly lost to those wolves. Fucking wolves. Not some epic boss monster or a horde of bandits, but a pack of overgrown mutts. My fists clenched involuntarily at the memory. I wasn't strong enough, not yet. This was my third mission of ninety-seven. Only my third, and I was already pushing my limits. What would happen when I reached mission fifty? Seventy? Ninety?

The answer was obvious: I'd die if I didn't get stronger.

I reaffirmed my decision right then and there. My training couldn't slacken. Drawing out my ki still felt foreign, like I was trying to wield someone else's power. It wasn't instinctive, and that was a problem. Every time I pulled on that energy, it drained me faster than it should, leaving me gasping for air. My body just wasn't ready yet. I needed to adapt, to make ki an extension of myself, as natural as breathing.

The fire crackled, sparks flying into the night as I stared into the flames. The others slept soundly, the soft sound of their breathing blending with the chirping of crickets. I sat there, my mind a storm of determination, frustration, and a burning desire to become stronger. This was only the beginning, and I wasn't going to let this system break me.

No. I'd break it first.

The soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds pulled me from a half-doze. The fire had long since dwindled to glowing embers, and the first rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy above. I had made it through the night without incident, my senses on high alert the entire time, but fatigue had crept in during the early hours. My head had drooped against my chest when a sharp voice shattered the morning stillness.

"Wake up, hero."

I blinked, groggy, and looked up to see Neralia standing over me, arms crossed, her expression somewhere between amused and annoyed. Her long silver hair shimmered in the morning light, and her ears twitched impatiently.

"You look like a mess," she said with a smirk, her tone back to its usual superiority. "Though I suppose that's your default state."

"Good morning to you too," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck as I straightened. My muscles still ached, though not as sharply as the day before. Progress, I guess.

"Breakfast is ready," she announced, turning on her heel. "Try not to drool all over it, will you?"

I watched her walk away, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Her condescending tone was back in full force, and while it grated on my nerves as usual, I had to admit I'd missed it. The silence from yesterday had been unnerving. Annoying as she was, this was the Neralia I knew.

By the time I dragged myself to the campfire, Lashley was already seated, shoveling food into his mouth with all the grace of a starving bear. He glanced up as I approached, his golden eyes narrowing.

"Don't just stand there gawking," he said. "Eat something before you keel over. We still have a long way to go."

"Good to see your charming personality survived the night," I said, grabbing a plate. Lashley snorted, but I caught the faintest hint of a smirk.

Breakfast was simple but hearty—grilled meat, fresh bread, and some kind of fruit I didn't recognize but tasted sweet and tangy. The beastkin driver sat a little ways off, his tail curled around his legs as he ate silently. I raised my plate in a silent gesture of thanks, and his ears flicked in acknowledgment.

"So," I said between bites, "any idea how far we are from these ruins?"

Neralia arched a delicate brow. "You mean you don't know? I thought our fearless leader had everything figured out."

"Fearless, yes. All-knowing, not quite," I shot back. "You two are supposed to be the brains of this operation, remember?"

Lashley chuckled, a low rumble that sounded almost genuine. "We'll reach the ruins by nightfall if we don't dawdle. Assuming, of course, that you don't collapse halfway there."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said dryly.

The banter continued as we ate, the familiar rhythm of their jabs and my comebacks settling into place. As much as they drove me up the wall, it felt… right. This dynamic, as frustrating as it was, kept things interesting. I'd never admit it out loud, but I preferred their snarky attitudes to the unnerving quiet from the day before.

After breakfast, we packed up camp and loaded everything back onto the carriage. The twins bickered over something trivial—probably whose job it was to secure the supplies—while I helped the beastkin driver harness the horses. He still hadn't said a word, but his calm efficiency spoke volumes. I got the distinct impression he'd been doing this for a long time.

We set off again as the sun climbed higher into the sky. The carriage rattled along the uneven road, the dense forest slowly giving way to rocky terrain. I leaned back in my seat, letting my gaze wander to the horizon. The ruins were out there somewhere, waiting. Whatever lay ahead, I'd face it head-on. I didn't have much of a choice.

"Try not to look too heroic," Neralia said, breaking into my thoughts. "You'll scare the horses."

I smirked, the corners of my mouth tugging upward despite myself. "Worried about me, princess?"

"Hardly," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "If you get yourself killed, it'll just make my job harder. You're barely tolerable as it is, so do me a favor and stay alive."

Her words were sharp, but there was something in her tone—a flicker of concern, maybe? I shook my head. Overthinking things wouldn't do me any good.

The journey continued, the hours stretching on as we drew closer to the ruins. My body ached, my mind churned, and my companions bickered. It wasn't perfect, but it was what we had. And for now, it was enough.