– Between The Bird And The Blade.

The first sensation she became aware of was the warmth of the morning sun on her skin.

Cool air brushed across her cheeks as she stirred awake, eyelids fluttering open to reveal a tranquil sky peeking through the dense canopy above. The silver shadows of the previous night had melted into soft, golden light. Birds chirped distantly, and the gentle rustle of leaves whispered through the forest.

She sat up slowly, momentarily disoriented, her fingers still loosely gripping her dagger. Her body felt slightly sore, but the heaviness of exhaustion had lessened. Reflexively, her eyes turned toward the patch of grass beside her where the injured bird had lain.

It was empty.

She blinked, eyebrows drawing together.

The purple bird was gone.

Her gaze swept the nearby area—no sign of feathers, no rustling or movement, no sound of wings. Just the quiet lake in front of her and the calm trees standing guard behind.

"...It left?" she murmured to herself.

Maybe it had recovered enough to fly away. The bandages were only a temporary fix. Perhaps the creature had found the strength to leave during the night while she slept. That would make sense. It was a wild animal, after all.

Still… something about its absence felt oddly hollow.

Shaking the thought away, she pushed herself to her feet and walked toward the lake. The surface gleamed like glass under the sunlight. Kneeling by the edge, she scooped a handful of water and splashed her face. The cool touch was refreshing, chasing away the last remnants of sleep.

As the droplets dripped from her chin, her stomach gave a low, impatient growl.

She froze.

Right.

She hadn't eaten anything since waking up in this bizarre place. The sheer chaos of being dragged into a unknown place, attacked by leopards, and tending to a strange bird had distracted her from feeling it—hunger.

She glanced around the forest, eyes narrowing. Trees. Rocks. Moss. Nothing edible caught her eye. And she didn't know what grew here—or what was even safe to eat.

The forest stretched endlessly in every direction, unfamiliar and uninviting. She didn't know what was edible or poisonous. Foraging blindly could kill her faster than any predator.

Just as she cursed under her breath and stood up, she heard it—a rhythmic flapping.

She turned sharply, dagger instinctively in hand, only to pause mid-motion.

From above, gliding with slow, powerful strokes of its wide wings, came the same violet-feathered bird. Wings spread wide and shimmering under the sunlight, was the very creature she'd assumed had already left.

Its flight was steadier now, more controlled. The bandages she'd wrapped around it were still visible but slightly shifted from movement.

It landed a few feet in front of her, its claws kicking up soft dust as it tucked its wings back with a majestic rustle. In its beak, she noticed several strange, brightly-colored fruits—orange-red with thin stems and faint speckles, like some blend between an apricot and a fig.

It landed gently a few feet from her, head tilting as it studied her.

She lowered her weapon, still wary, but curious.

The bird stepped forward and set the fruits on the ground, then gently nudged them toward her with its beak.

She blinked.

"...Are these for me?" she asked, still crouching near the lake. The words slipped from her lips before she realized she was talking to a bird.

To her surprise, it nodded. A slow, clear dip of its head.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

"…You're thanking me? For yesterday?" she said, crossing her arms. "That's not necessary. I didn't help you expecting anything in return."

She hesitated.

She'd always been alone. Dependent on no one but herself. That's how she survived the underworld. That's how she'd killed, escaped, and lived.

But here, in this place where everything was foreign, and everything was unfamiliar… the gesture felt oddly warm.

Still, it was hard to drop old habits.

The bird nudged the fruit again, this time a bit more insistently, its eyes gleaming with something close to expectation.

She picked up one of the strange fruits and examined it.

Still, she hesitated.

Hesitation lingered as she reached for one. She didn't recognize it. The texture felt soft but firm. The skin was smooth, slightly sticky. No obvious signs of danger. It had a faint, sweet aroma, something like a cross between apple and honey. But the assassin in her recoiled from accepting kindness. She examined it carefully, her assassin instincts kicking in—always check for poison, for traps, for tricks.

But this bird… what could it even possibly gain from her?

She glanced at its face. Its bright violet eyes sparkled, watching her intently. Like it wanted her to eat. Like it was excited.

That was odd.

She raised an eyebrow. "You look like you're waiting for me to take the first bite at your wedding feast."

The bird tilted its head, beak slightly open. If birds could grin, it probably just did.

She took a cautious bite.

The flesh was juicy, crisp, with a sweetness that burst across her tongue—mild but refreshing, like an apple but with a subtle floral aftertaste that melted over her tongue. It was delicious—and most importantly, sweet and edible.

She devoured the rest quickly and reached for another. Hunger no longer had to wait.

She ate in silence while the bird sat nearby, watching her like a satisfied mother hen. Once she finished, she leaned back against the tree again, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

"…Thanks," she muttered, almost reluctantly. She wasn't used to saying it.

The bird let out a low, soft coo.

Now that the edge of hunger had been dulled, reality settled back in.

She stood up and looked around the forest, eyes scanning the trees as a deep frown creased her brows.

Now what?

She stared at the trees ahead. She didn't know this place. No map. No goal. No phone. No mission. No clue where to go or what was waiting out there. A directionless assassin in a foreign land.

She crossed her arms, frowning.

Then she heard a flap.

The bird, as if sensing her uncertainty, had risen again and came to stand directly in front of her. Its wings fluttered once before it bent down, lowering its body until its back was level with her. Then it stilled.

"What… are you doing?"

It flapped its wings once more and nudged her lightly with its beak, then bent lower again. As if telling her—Get on.

"You want me to ride you?" she asked flatly.

Another nod.

She stared.

Trust wasn't something she gave out freely. Years in the underworld taught her to rely only on herself. People lied. Allies betrayed. Even shadows could stab you in the back.

But… what choice did she have?

She didn't know this forest. She had no destination. Wandering the forest blindly would only get her killed. And despite herself, a tiny part of her wanted to believe this strange bird meant her no harm.

She eyed it warily. The idea of placing her trust in a creature she had known for less than a day grated against her instincts. She was an assassin. Trust was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Forget it.

Maybe just for now, she could only trust it.

"…Alright. Let's see where you want to take me."

She slid onto its back carefully, keeping her balance as she adjusted her weight. The bird was warm beneath her, its feathers soft but surprisingly firm. It rose with ease, lifting off the ground with powerful thrusts of its wings.

The forest dropped away beneath them.

Wind tore at her hair as they soared into the sky, the trees turning to green blurs. She held tightly to the feathers at the base of its neck, eyes wide as the land stretched beneath her—forests, hills, even distant mountains.

Time passed as they soared—how long, she wasn't sure.

Then, on the horizon, a shape emerged.

A city.

Nestled between distant mountains and sprawling meadows, its stone walls and tall spires came into view. Buildings with curved roofs and elaborate carvings dotted the landscape.

Massive and walled, with tall towers and strange structures built from stone, wood, and materials she didn't recognize. The architecture was unlike anything back in her world—ornate yet primal, wild and regal at the same time.

The houses were clustered and alive with movement. She could make out shapes—people—moving below.

As they drew closer, she could finally see them.

She noticed something strange.

People...

Not ordinary ones.

Even from the sky, she could see their unusual traits—ears like wolves, tails swaying behind them, elongated limbs or clawed hands. Beastmen.

She narrowed her eyes.

The bird began descending toward the western edge of the city, where the architecture was simpler—stone houses, wide streets.

The bird landed just outside a row of low houses near the western edge of the city. Dust scattered as the bird settled to the ground.

She slid off its back and landed softly on the ground.

The moment her feet touched down, she felt it.

Eyes.

Dozens of curious gazes locked onto her.

Strange people of all kinds stood around—some tall and muscular with fur-covered arms, others more humanlike but with twitching animal ears. They whispered among themselves, casting glances at her and the magnificent bird beside her.

Just as she was about to take a cautious step forward, a soft chime rang in her ears—clear and ethereal, like wind passing through crystal.

Then came a voice. Not entirely mechanical, but smooth and strangely melodic, carrying a faint echo that brushed against her consciousness like a whisper from the wind.

"Welcome to the world of Beastmen, Nyxaria Duneveil."