43. Menato Sanchez

Chapter 43: Menato Sanchez

The air in the corridor was stale, carrying the faint scent of dust, age, and the lingering remnants of the chaos we had just caused. The battle was over, but the toll it had taken on us wasn't. I could feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at my limbs with each step I took, my body bruised, bloodied, and aching in ways I couldn't quite ignore. Neralia wasn't in much better shape. She was leaning heavily against me, her breaths shallow and labored, each one a painful reminder of the battle we'd just survived.

"Take it slow," I said, my voice hoarse. I could feel my own fatigue threatening to overtake me, but I pushed it aside. There was still too much to do, too much left to figure out.

She didn't respond at first, but I could feel her weight shift slightly, as if she were trying to steady herself, trying to find a rhythm with me. It was a strange feeling, helping her like this. She was strong, capable, but now, in this moment, she was vulnerable. I could tell she didn't like that, and I respected it. But for now, she needed help.

"You know," she said, her voice faint but with that familiar sharpness, "I thought you were dead for sure. You looked like you were at death's door about three times in there."

"Not my first time dancing with death," I muttered, my lips curling into a grim smile. "I've got a habit of surviving, much to my dismay."

Neralia scoffed, her shoulders trembling as she laughed softly, clearly exhausted. "Well, you're lucky then. But next time, try not to get yourself nearly killed, okay?"

I glanced down at her, her face pale, sweat clinging to her hairline. I could tell she was fighting to keep it together, to not show just how drained she was. I'd been there before, but the problem was, we didn't have the luxury of just resting. The ruins around us were treacherous, and I could already feel the weight of time pressing against us.

As we continued to move through the winding corridors, I felt the tension between us. We hadn't talked much after the battle, and that silence seemed to stretch on, heavy with unspoken words.

"Are we even going the right way?" she asked after a long pause, her voice filled with uncertainty as she glanced up at me, her brows furrowed. "It's hard to tell in this place."

I gave a half-shrug, feeling the muscles in my shoulders protest as I did. "Probably not. But we're headed out, that much I'm sure of."

"I can't believe you're still moving like that," she remarked, her voice taking on a softer tone. "Even after everything. You're relentless."

I snorted, the exhaustion in my body making the movement feel like it was dragging me down even further. "I'm just stubborn. Don't confuse that for strength. I don't want to think about where I'd be without you."

She didn't respond to that, but I could feel her hand tighten on my arm, a silent acknowledgment of my words. We were both running on fumes now, physically and mentally drained, but we couldn't stop. Not yet. Not until we knew what we were really up against.

The sound of our footsteps echoed through the halls, the thrum of our footsteps bouncing off the stone walls as we made our way through the winding maze of the fortress. The passageways seemed endless, stretching on forever, and I couldn't help but wonder if we were still heading in the right direction or if we were simply wandering aimlessly. Each step felt heavier than the last, each breath more labored as the minutes dragged by.

"You know," Neralia said, her voice distant, "I keep thinking we're going to make it out of here, and then… something else happens. The fight keeps going, and I'm starting to wonder if we're ever really going to be able to leave this place behind."

I didn't have an answer for that, not one that would make sense to either of us. We'd come so far, fought so hard, and yet I couldn't shake the feeling that something still waited for us here, lurking in the shadows. The air around us felt charged, like the ruins themselves were alive, watching, waiting.

I glanced down at Neralia, her face etched with exhaustion, but also with determination. She was strong, no doubt about it. We'd been through a lot together, and I knew she was capable of more than most could ever understand.

"We'll get out," I said, keeping my voice steady. "We always do."

She didn't look convinced, but she gave a small nod, trusting my words, even if she didn't fully believe them herself.

Finally, after what felt like hours, we reached the end of the corridor. The heavy stone door that had once sealed us inside now stood open before us, leading out into the ruins that surrounded the mansion. The air outside was sharp, cold, and the distant sound of wind howling through the remains of the fort made the silence inside the ruins feel even more oppressive.

We stepped out into the open, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I took a deep breath, feeling the coolness of the wind in my lungs. The ruins sprawled before us, their broken walls and scattered rubble a stark contrast to the faint, ethereal glow of the mansion's interior. It was quiet, almost too quiet.

Neralia leaned heavily against me, still struggling to stay on her feet, but her eyes were scanning the horizon, looking for something—anything—that could give us some direction.

"Well," I said, breaking the silence, "we made it this far. But what now?"

She didn't answer right away, her gaze lingering on the ruins as if she were piecing together something in her mind. After a moment, she spoke, her voice quieter now. "Do we go back inside? Or wait here for Lashley to come to us? There's still so much we don't know. If we head back in there, it could be even worse."

I thought for a moment, weighing our options. "I don't think going back inside is a good idea. Not unless we're sure we can handle whatever's still lurking in there. We don't know what else is in that place, and I'm not keen on finding out the hard way."

She nodded, her eyes still scanning the wreckage of the fort. "So we wait, then?"

"Yeah. We wait. And we figure out our next move."

I glanced back at the entrance to the mansion, the darkened stone halls that had once seemed like a labyrinth, now silent and foreboding. We had secured the artifact, but what else lay ahead? Only time would tell. But for now, we had to catch our breath and plan.

After all, I wasn't about to let this ruin me. And neither was Neralia.

---

The ruins outside the mansion felt like a breath of fresh air—until silence took over once again, an unnerving quiet that settled deep in my bones. Neralia and I had walked in silence for a while now, the weight of the battle still hanging heavily between us. The decision loomed before us, and she wasn't the only one who felt it.

"Kaizen…" Her voice trailed off, her exhaustion plain in every word. She leaned against me more heavily now, her breath ragged and shallow. "I've used too much energy. Potions won't work if I'm this hungry. And I can barely stay on my feet as it is."

I didn't argue with her. She had a point. A healing potion might mend the wounds, but it wouldn't fix her hunger or the weakness in her body. She needed more than just a quick fix. She needed food. Real food.

She glanced at me, her tired gaze flickering with concern, but then there was a small spark of understanding, and her words came out softer this time. "You should use one of your potions. I know you don't have much mana. But you're running low on energy too. You need it."

That's when it hit me. I couldn't even tell her that my mana had run dry. She assumed I was still using that, but I wasn't. What she didn't know was that my power didn't come from mana—it came from ki. And ki wasn't something you just drank down from a potion. It was internal, personal. It was the difference between me and the rest of them. I wasn't a mage—I was a fighter. But that didn't mean I was immune to running out of steam.

She had a point, though. I was short on stamina. My muscles were heavy and stiff from the constant use of ki throughout the battle. I could feel my body dragging behind, but the thing was… I had something that could help.

I reached into my spatial ring and pulled out the blue potion she had given me after the fight with the wolves. The last one I had left. That damn potion had cost me a gold coin—enough for an inn stay for a month, plus food and drinks and a little fun if I felt like it. A gold coin. And this little bottle of liquid was worth that much. But that didn't even touch the black potion I'd used earlier. The black one had cost ten gold coins, but damn if it hadn't been worth it. Restored my health completely, but it did jack shit for my stamina.

I stared at the potion in my hand. I could feel the weight of it in my fingers. Expensive as hell, but at this point, I didn't have much of a choice. If we were going to make it out of this alive, I needed to keep going. And so did she.

I opened the vial, the sweet, slightly metallic scent filling my nose, and in one quick motion, I downed the whole thing. Immediately, I felt it—first, a refreshing green glow enveloped me, a sense of comfort and vitality filling every fiber of my being. It was as if the exhaustion and aches from the battle were all swept away, the pain and the fatigue slipping through my body like water.

But then came the blue glow, the real power behind it. My stamina, drained by the sheer force of my ki usage, began to surge back to life. My limbs, once heavy and aching, now felt lighter, as if they were ready to fight again. Even the minor injuries from the dragon's attack, those cuts and bruises, healed right before my eyes.

I stood there for a moment, feeling the rush of power course through me. Damn. I was back at full strength.

But then—

A thud.

It hit the ground so hard I felt it in my chest. I turned just in time to see him—Lashley. Bloodied, crawling on all fours like a damn infant. His face was covered in dirt and blood, his body trembling with the effort to move, to survive. It was the most pitiful sight I'd ever seen, and it shook me to my core.

"Neralia!" I shouted, my heart skipping a beat.

She froze for a second, as if her body couldn't quite comprehend what it was seeing, but then her legs shifted beneath her. She stumbled toward him, her pace quickening, her voice cracking with disbelief. "Lashley!"

She ran to him, her footsteps unsteady at first but growing stronger as she reached him. She knelt down beside him, her hands trembling as she cradled his head in her lap, trying to make sense of the devastation in front of her.

I followed quickly, kneeling beside them, my fingers brushing against his pulse. His body was cold, but there was a faint beat, a flicker of life in his veins. He wasn't dead, but damn if he wasn't close. His chest was barely rising and falling, and his skin felt like it belonged to someone who had been through hell. I had no clue what had happened to him.

"Lashley… what the hell happened?" Neralia gasped, her voice trembling with fear and frustration. "Tell me! What did they do to you?"

But Lashley couldn't respond. His body trembled with the effort to stay alive, but he couldn't move. His eyes were glazed, unfocused. It was as if the world had just been too much for him.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. "We need to get him back to the carriage."

But just as I was about to try lifting him, a voice cut through the air, low and mocking, coming from behind a pillar of stone.

"Well, well. About time you came out."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I turned to face the figure, my eyes narrowing. Something in my gut twisted—an overwhelming sense of fear washed over me. I felt it in my bones. Whoever this was… they weren't here for a casual chat.

Neralia stood up, fury flashing in her eyes. "Did you do this to him? Did you beat him?"

The figure stepped forward from behind the pillar, their cloak fluttering in the wind. They wore a dark hood that concealed their face, but the aura around them was… palpable. Heavy. Dangerous.

"Hmm…" The figure sighed. "I didn't like the way he spoke. So, I beat him up."

"Fucking bastard," Neralia hissed, her hands balling into fists as she took a step forward, rage burning in her chest. "You're going to regret that."

I could feel it then—the undeniable wave of fear crawling up my spine. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to run. I started to breathe harder, like I'd just sprinted a marathon. My heart raced in my chest, and my hands trembled slightly as I forced myself to stay still.

I had to know who this was.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked, my voice barely steady.

The figure pulled back the hood, and in a blur of movement, they revealed themselves. The first thing I noticed were their sharp, white spiked hair, spiking out in every direction like some kind of wild beast. And the ears—pointed, like the wolves I had fought before, tall and alert. His skin was pale, almost ethereal, but covered in white fur that matched the hair, along his chest, back, and the backs of his hands. His feet were bare, and the brown pants he wore were worn, as if they had seen their fair share of battle. The tail—thick, bushy, and wagging behind him—looked almost playful despite the danger emanating from his every movement.

"I'm Menato Sanchez," he said, his voice smooth and calculating, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "And I've come for the artifact."