The Price of Arrogance

ARCEUS'S POV

My body tensed like a bow ready to shoot, muscles rigid beneath my scarred skin, my senses flaring to maximum alert. Years of survival had taught me that every strange sound could be the harbinger of death, and my instinct had never failed me.

In the distance, emerging from the forest's gloom like a wounded specter, appeared a staggering figure. It was a young man, his clothes in tatters, hanging in rags that barely covered his battered body. Deep cuts crisscrossed his skin like maps of pain, mingled with bruises that painted his flesh in shades of purple and blue.

Each step seemed to cost him a titanic effort, as if he were dragging the weight of a recent battle that had left indelible marks on his soul as much as on his body. I watched him with a hardened face and narrowed eyes.

Ally or enemy?

In a world where survival hung by a thread thinner than a spiderweb, the answer was never clear, and I had learned, at a cost that still bled me inside, that misplaced trust was a luxury I could not afford.

[Lucas Lannister]

[Level of existence: 2 (E)]

[Public attribute: Feline reflexes.]

[Description: He possesses the speed, agility, and perception of a cat, allowing him to react with impressive precision to any stimulus.]

Lucas raised his gaze and, upon seeing me, his face lit up with a mix of relief and frenzy that immediately put me on guard. His eyes gleamed with a desperation I recognized all too well: that of someone who had faced death up close and still trembled from the encounter.

—What is a plebeian doing here? Who are you? Do you know where a safe zone is? —he asked, his voice laden with urgency, his eyes fixed on me, searching for a spark of hope I was not willing to offer.

—Safe zone? —I frowned, my tone tinged with caution. Without blinking, I lied with the fluency of someone who had turned survival into an art—: I don't know what you're talking about.

Safe zones were refuges as rare as they were precious, oases in a world besieged by the constant threat of goblins and other voracious creatures that turned every night into a potential nightmare. Finding one was like discovering a treasure: a place to rest, to breathe without fearing that death lurked in every shadow cast by the moon. But sharing that knowledge with a stranger was a risk I could not accept.

Betrayal was common currency in this environment, where people could become as unpredictable as the beasts they hunted. I had no guarantee that this young man, exhausted and wounded, wouldn't stab me in the night for a scrap of food or a safe corner. My refusal was not just survival instinct; it was a calculated decision after weighing the risks and benefits. And the risks, in this case, were overwhelmingly high.

—Take me to the safe zone, insolent brat —demanded Lucas, his eyes boding nothing good.

I pressed my lips together, holding back a sharp retort that would have unnecessarily escalated the tension. Lucas's tone was a direct challenge, but his battered body and evident weakness suggested that a fight was the last thing both of us needed at that moment. Aware of my own fatigue and the wounds that still throbbed beneath my skin as constant reminders of past battles, I opted for diplomacy, though my body rebelled against showing any sign of weakness.

—Head south from here —I said, gesturing vaguely toward the direction opposite to where the nearest safe zone actually lay—. If you don't dawdle, you'll reach a safe zone before nightfall. I have to hunt, so I can't accompany you.

Without waiting for a response, I turned around, ready to lose myself in the tall grass surrounding the lake like a natural curtain. My plan was simple: to distance myself from this potential complication and continue with my own survival. But before I could take a second step, a sharp blow to my back made me stagger.

I lost my balance and fell face-first, my head crashing against a rock with a crack that reverberated in my ears like the sound of my own bones breaking. Pain exploded in my skull like fireworks of agony, and a warm trickle of blood began to slide down my forehead, tinting my vision red.

—What the hell are you doing? —I growled, covering the wound as I stood up, my eyes blazing with fury and confusion.

—I only want obedience, not excuses —replied Lucas with a voice devoid of any trace of his previous desperation—. Take me to the safe zone. Now.

The transformation in his behavior set me on maximum alert. This was not a desperate survivor; it was something far more dangerous.

—Screw you —I spat, summoning my growing spear with a flash. I pointed it at Lucas, ready to defend myself against what my instinct already identified as a lethal threat.

Lucas looked at me with disdain, a twisted smile creeping onto his lips like that of a predator who had just found a particularly interesting prey.

—What did your parents teach you, little vermin? —he mocked, his tone laden with a superiority that made my teeth grind—. Even wounded, a scum like you is nothing compared to me.

He raised his palm, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I saw it: it was not a human hand, but a smooth, translucent surface, as if sculpted from white crystal, emitting a supernatural glow that seemed to absorb the surrounding light like a hungry black hole.