A Night of Survival

About an hour had passed since the death of the giant wolf. The area, once chaotic and drenched in blood, was now bustling with activity. Numerous awakeners, government officials, and reporters had gathered, broadcasting news of the catastrophic event.

The destruction was truly devastating. The once-vast forest lay in ruins. Trees were toppled, the ground had become barren, and countless animals had perished in the battle.

Elsewhere, in the quiet of the night, the sound of footsteps echoed deep within the forest near a mountain. A lone man was seen carrying an unconscious woman on his back.

The man bore visible injuries, yet he pressed on relentlessly, heading eastward toward his destination. His weary eyes finally caught sight of a cave not far ahead.

That man was none other than Eryon Ashbourn, carrying Freya. The gravitational explosion had hurled them far from their previous location—likely tens of kilometers—and, unfortunately, left them stranded in an uncharted wilderness.

After a determined effort, Eryon finally reached the cave. He carefully placed Freya on the cold, hard ground before collapsing onto the floor himself, gasping for breath.

This was his first day in this world, and he had already faced so much. Yet, amidst the chaos, he couldn't deny that it had also brought some opportunities.

Now, enveloped by the cave's darkness, Eryon decided it was time to act.

...

Clack!

Clack!

Clack!

The sharp sound of stones striking each other echoed through the silent cave, followed by the soft crackle of a newly kindled flame.

A small fire flickered at the tip of a branch, casting a warm, dancing glow across the dark walls of the cave.

"Finally, it's burning," Eryon sighed heavily, letting his body collapse onto the rough cave floor. Sweat trickled down his face, shimmering in the firelight, while his hands trembled from the effort of creating fire the old-fashioned way.

The night had grown colder, perhaps now nearing 11 p.m. The night was long, and he desperately needed rest.

His gaze gradually shifted to his side, landing on Freya's unconscious form. If not for her quick reflexes, he might have suffered far worse injuries—or even died. Her golden shield had absorbed most of the explosion's force.

Still, Eryon had faced an internal struggle earlier. A tempting thought had crossed his mind: he could have easily taken Freya's unique abilities by killing her. But, in the end, he chose not to.

The flickering firelight illuminated Freya's figure, its glow inadvertently drawing his attention to her partially exposed body.

Eryon's expression froze as realization dawned. Her armor, cracked and damaged, had slipped off during their journey here. Until now, he hadn't noticed, too focused on finding shelter in the dark.

He couldn't deny it—Freya's physique was captivating. Her pale, flawless skin and athletic build made her undeniably attractive. From what he could see, the explosion hadn't just damaged her armor but had also left her clothing nearly in tatters.

After hesitating for a moment, Eryon shook his head firmly and decided to act. He began unbuttoning his shirt. His school uniform consisted of two layers: a vest and a shirt. The vest had been destroyed in the explosion, leaving only the shirt.

His intentions were pure. He intended to use it to cover Freya, preserving her dignity.

He shrugged off the shirt, revealing a lean yet toned torso. He wasn't particularly muscular, but he was fit.

"This is the hard part. Let's hope she doesn't wake up," he muttered, steeling himself.

With the shirt in hand, Victor cautiously approached Freya, his mind fully focused on the task.

But just as he leaned forward to drape the shirt over her, his movement froze. His heart pounded as he noticed Freya's eyelids flutter open.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Good god," Eryon muttered under his breath, a wry, helpless smile tugging at his lips.

Freya's gaze shifted downward, and her cheeks flushed a fiery red as she realized her vulnerable state.

The sudden awareness of her condition sparked her fury.

"You!" she screamed, golden energy flaring around her as she sent Eryon flying into the cave wall.

Thud!

"Cough! Freya, this is a misunderstanding!" Eryon croaked, clutching his ribs as pain coursed through him.

But Freya was livid. Her left arm instinctively covered her chest, while her right hand clenched into a fist, poised to strike again.

"Misunderstanding, huh? If I'd stayed unconscious, who knows what you would've done, you pervert!" she hissed venomously.

"Freya, I swear it's a misunderstanding. I have no ill intentions. I just wanted to give you my shirt because your clothes were burned," Eryon explained softly.

Freya's glare remained unwavering, her fury unrelenting.

"You're just trying to— Cough!" Her words were cut off by a sudden, violent cough. Her eyes widened in shock as blood trickled from her lips.

A wave of dizziness washed over her, her vision blurring as the world spun around her.

"Freya? Are you okay?"

Eryon's voice reached her faintly, distorted as though it came from underwater. A sharp, splitting headache overwhelmed her senses.

Unable to endure the excruciating pain, her body gave out, and she collapsed to the cave floor once more, unconscious.