The Request

Vastarael sighed as he faced the crowd which was still in shock, the camp eerily silent after the violent display of power that had just unfolded.

For a moment, no one dared move. People were rooted to the spot, eyes wide in disbelief as they processed what had just transpired before them. Vastarael stood there amidst the carnage, his pristine white robe stained with blood again, his hands slowly wiping off the remnants of Lizdlli's broken pride, like dirt on his skin.

His golden eyes flicked across the stunned onlookers, who were now whispering among themselves. Some were still in shock, others were slowly starting to bow their heads, the air thick with awe and fear. The whispers were growing louder, as if they couldn't help but try to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

They had seen the ruthless efficiency of Vastarael's combat, the skill with which he cut down the Krepsunas, and now the humiliation of the so-called "famous warrior" who had been nothing but a coward in the face of real danger. They had seen enough to know one thing: Vastarael was not someone they could easily ignore.

A soft rustle broke through the silence. Two figures squeezed through the onlookers, their presence barely noticeable at first, but it was the sharpness of their movements that made them stand out. As they approached, Vastarael's eyes caught their figures, and it took him a moment to process who they were. Both had dark hair and onyx eyes. His sharp vision immediately recognized them.

The twin sisters who took care of him days ago.

Rienne and her sister, though still young, were undeniably striking. There was something about their presence that made them stand apart from the others, as if they were cut from a different cloth, one more refined.

Rienne's eyes met his first, her lips parted in an almost imperceptible gasp, though her expression quickly settled into something that could only be described as cautious admiration.

Her twin sister stood just behind her, her gaze darting nervously from Vastarael to the crowd, her fingers subtly clutching the fabric of her robe. She was the quieter of the two, the kind of person who preferred to observe rather than speak up. But Rienne, she was a force of nature, always quick with words and actions.

Vastarael didn't speak immediately. He just observed them. The flicker of recognition in Rienne's eyes didn't go unnoticed by him, nor did the way the crowd's attention shifted as the twins moved closer. They didn't belong to the same category as the others.

The whispers began to die down as more of the villagers recognized them, and a few glanced away in embarrassment, realizing that the two women, who were far above the status of the others, were choosing to walk toward Vastarael instead of the leader or anyone else.

"So Mr Vastarael," Rienne's voice broke the quiet tension. "You've caused quite a stir, haven't you? You shouldn't have done that."

Vastarael tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving her.

"Why? Did you think I should have let that man live? He's not exactly dead so..."

His voice was as smooth as velvet, though there was a trace of amusement in it. He raised a hand and wiped the last remnants of Lizdlli's blood from his fingers, the cold air biting at his skin.

"You could've let him off easy," Rienne replied with a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. "But now the whole camp will be talking about you. They'll either see you as a hero or a monster.Don't make this worse. We don't need more eyes on you."

Vastarael raised a brow. "Is that a warning or a plea?"

Rienne took a breath, her eyes softening as she looked at him. "Neither. It's just... advice. People here aren't used to someone like you. They're used to loud, brash types like Lizdlli, not to mention the other warriors who prefer brute strength over finesse. You did save us, so they'll be thankful. But you've drawn attention to yourself in a way that isn't good for anyone, especially you."

Vastarael's gaze shifted to the people around them, who had slowly begun to disperse, though their eyes remained on him. He could feel their curiosity, their fear, and yes, even a bit of admiration. But he didn't care for the attention. His mind was on something else. Something far more important than the camp's opinion of him.

"And what do you suggest I do?" Vastarael's voice dropped to a softer register, a hint of irony there.

His fingers twitched and his mind flickered to the thought of how easily he could send them all back to their places with a simple shift of his glaive. But he restrained himself. For now.

Rienne shifted on her feet, her brow furrowed. "Follow me. We're going back to our tent. It's not safe for you to stay out here for too long. Trust me. You don't know what kind of danger you've just walked into by showing that much power. Not all of us are used to being in the presence of a... anomaly? And those who do know... well, they'll want to see what you're capable of. To test you."

Vastarael didn't say anything for a long moment. He just looked at her, his gaze piercing through her words as if reading something deeper, something she didn't say aloud. Then, with a quiet shrug, he nodded once.

"Lead the way," he replied.

Rienne motioned for him to follow and her twin sister moved closer, offering a small, somewhat awkward smile.

"You really should be more careful. You're..." She trailed off, not quite knowing how to finish her sentence, but her eyes said enough. She was more concerned than she let on.

"Don't worry," Vastarael said, his tone lighter now as he glanced at the other sister. "I can handle it."

His gaze flickered back to Rienne, who was already moving ahead, her steps light and quick as she led him through the remaining patches of snow. The others, still stunned, parted as they walked, their eyes following him like he was some kind of otherworldly figure. One of immense beauty, power, and danger.

As they reached the tent, Rienne paused, looking over her shoulder at him with an almost playful smirk.

"You know, you're lucky you look so good. That face of yours is probably the only reason no one's turned you into a spectacle," he gave a slight chuckle. "Imagine if you looked anything less than divine. You'd have people following you all over, trying to get a piece of you. It would be a mess."

"And what would you do in that situation?"

Rienne shrugged "I'd make sure you were safe. But just... keep it low profile for now, alright? Let them be thankful in silence. They owe you that much."

Vastarael didn't respond immediately, but there was a flicker in his eyes as he stared at her. It was only for a moment, but it was there—the recognition that she was more than just a survivor. There was something more beneath the surface. Something he'd have to figure out later.

For now, though, he followed them into the tent, where warmth and respite awaited, leaving the whispers and stares behind for a while.

°°°°°°

Inside the tent, the warmth was immediate, the heavy fabric blocking out the harsh chill of the outside.

The dim glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows against the walls, creating an atmosphere of quiet seclusion. Vastarael's gaze swept the interior, taking in the modest yet well-kept space. The scent of burning wood and herbal tea lingered in the air.

Seated at the center was a man of strong stature, his face marked by years of experience and hardship. His dark hair was streaked with silver, but his onyx eyes, much like Rienne's, held a sharpness that hadn't dulled with time.

Beside him, a woman with gentle features sat with a calm grace, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Her gaze was softer than her husband's, but there was no mistaking the intelligence behind her eyes.

Rienne motioned toward Vastarael, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Father, Mother. This is the man who just made a mess outside."

Indulis let out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he studied Vastarael.

"So, you're the reason the camp is buzzing like a beehive," he mused, his voice steady but carrying the weight of someone used to dealing with difficult situations. "I don't know whether to thank you or worry about what comes next."

Vastarael met the man's gaze without hesitation. "That depends. Are you planning to make me an enemy, or do you intend to accept the help I've already given?"

His tone was cool, neither defensive nor apologetic. Siranna chuckled softly, exchanging a glance with her husband.

"You certainly don't lack confidence," she murmured, pouring tea into a small cup before sliding it toward Vastarael. "Drink. You're covered in blood, and I doubt it's all yours."

Vastarael took the cup, not out of politeness, but because he recognized the gesture as one of acknowledgment rather than mere hospitality. He took a sip, the warmth spreading down his throat as he kept his attention on Indulis.

The older man leaned forward, his fingers tapping against the wooden table between them.

"I'll be direct. You're powerful, far more than anyone in this camp. That much is obvious. But power alone doesn't mean much unless it's put to proper use. These people... they aren't soldiers. They're survivors. We've lost too many to the monsters that roam these lands. If you truly want to help, then do so in a way that benefits all of us."

Vastarael tilted his head slightly. "And what exactly are you suggesting?"

Indulis exhaled through his nose, his hands clasping together.

"Help us clear out the beasts that threaten this camp. You've already proven yourself capable. If you assist us, you won't just earn gratitude. You'll gain trust. And trust is more valuable than fear in a place like this."

Vastarael considered his words. He had no interest in being some wandering protector, nor did he care for their admiration. But clearing the monsters would serve his own goals as well. Fewer distractions meant fewer obstacles. And if trust made things easier, then so be it.

Before he could respond, Siranna spoke up, her voice gentle but firm.

"But there's something else you should know." Her fingers traced the rim of her cup. "Indulis and I... we don't plan on staying here much longer."

Rienne's head snapped up at that. "You're still planning to migrate?"

Indulis gave a slow nod. "It's time. We can't keep living on the edge of survival, constantly looking over our shoulders. We've found a place, safer than here. A place where we can rebuild called the Halo Islands. But leaving isn't easy. Not with the threats out there."

Vastarael set his cup down, his gaze sharpening.

"So, you want me to help clear the path for your departure."

Siranna smiled knowingly. "You catch on quickly."

Rienne frowned slightly but said nothing. It was clear she had her own thoughts about this decision, but she wasn't voicing them yet.

Vastarael leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping against his knee as he mulled over their words.

"Fine," he said decisively. "I'll deal with the monsters. But don't expect me to play the role of a savior."

Indulis smirked slightly. "I never took you for the type."

Siranna nodded in approval. "Then it's settled."

Vastarael said nothing more. His gaze flickered to Rienne, who was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite place. There was something in her eyes, curiosity, perhaps. Or maybe something else.

Either way, the decision was made. The hunt would begin soon.