Ren walked leisurely, lifting his hand to gently scratch behind the ear of the jet-black wolf trotting faithfully at his heels… well, he did have to lift his hand, since its head was higher than his waist.
A Messenger Wolfhound, far larger than ordinary wild wolves, raised from a pup in well-cared conditions yet its breed also seemed subtly different.
It wagged its tail energetically, occasionally glancing up as if waiting for praise.
Ren's pace was slightly slower than the rest of the party, partly because he was playing with the wolf, partly because he was quietly observing the people around him.
Asuna walked alongside Kirito, but every so often, her gaze flicked toward Ren tinged with something like envy, and occasionally toward the wolf, her eyes almost wistful.
The glance was fleeting, but Ren caught it instantly.
Kirito, however, was busy… being jealous in a completely different direction.
Whenever Asuna switched her grip on her sword, the silver gleam of the rapier flashing in the sunlight, Kirito's eyes were drawn toward it like a magnet.
That weapon wasn't ordinary equipment. It wasn't the reward from any quest, nor loot from any defeated monster, it had been custom-forged, a truly one-of-a-kind weapon.
Ren had heard that it was reforged based on the old rapier Mito had given Asuna during the floor one boss raid.
But now, with Dark Elf forging techniques from as high as the tenth floor, combined with materials from the current floor, it had become both a work of art and a deadly weapon.
Its safe enhancement limit was an astonishing fifteen, a number that would make any swordsman whistle in disbelief.
On top of that, its raw attack stats and bonus effects rivaled mid-tier two-handed swords, and compared to some above-average ones, it outright surpassed them thanks to its unmatched attack speed.
Ren understood Kirito's feelings perfectly, and he wouldn't deny that, if he claimed not to want such a weapon, he'd be lying outright.
Just imagining that shining blade in his hand, every strike tracing a thin but lethal arc of light… was enough to make any swordsman's heart race with excitement.
The wolf gave a small bark, snapping him out of his thoughts. Ren patted its head with a small smile.
"Well… daydreaming's still tax-free, right?"
He then looked toward Aisen and Kizmel, as if a thought had just struck him. Gesturing toward the black-furred wolf walking beside him, its coat glinting under the sun, he asked:
"Hey, Lady Kizmel… what's this guy's name?"
Such a simple question, yet it immediately drew everyone's attention. Asuna tilted her head, as if realizing just now that she'd never heard it either.
"You're right. We've known each other for a while, but I've never heard the little one's name," Asuna said with a blink, a touch of embarrassment in her tone.
Kirito also turned his gaze, clearly expecting some cool name like "Fang Shadow" or "Moon Fang."
But contrary to their expectations, Kizmel calmly replied, "I don't know."
The answer made Ren and his two friends freeze, their expressions clearly reading Wait, what?
Under their questioning stares, Kizmel smiled faintly, the elegant sort of smile a noblewoman might give, before explaining slowly:
"It's not that I know and am keeping it secret. It's simply… it never had a name. Wolves like this are all referred to as Messenger Wolfhounds, much like a rank or title.
They're specially trained, often serving in the royal guard or in elite reconnaissance units of the Lyusula Kingdom."
Her voice grew a shade deeper, touched with formality. "And only after performing a truly great deed are they personally granted a name by the queen herself.
In the past several centuries, the kingdom has only ever had three Messenger Wolfhounds receive names. Simply put… we've lived in peace for a very, very long time."
Kizmel glanced briefly at the wolf walking beside Ren, her eyes holding a flicker of something hard to read. "But… to be named after a meaningless battle like this one would be…"
She left the sentence hanging, letting silence take the place of its conclusion. The wolf merely looked back at them, its golden eyes seeming utterly indifferent to whether or not it had a name.
"A bestowed name… is more than just a title," Aisen spoke up, his tone slow and deliberate, as if he wanted each word to sink into Ren's mind.
"It signifies that the Messenger Wolfhound possesses extraordinary growth potential. I once met one that had already been named… and you know what, Ren," he tilted his head slightly, recalling the memory,
"…it was as big as a carriage, and a single swipe of its claws could split a steel shield in two."
He glanced at the black-furred wolf at Ren's side. "This little one here don't be fooled, it hasn't even reached maturity yet.
Every wolf trained to become a Messenger Wolfhound is a direct descendant of those that once fought alongside the Queen in wartime. Their bloodline is noble, refined over generations—they're not something you can just stumble across."
Aisen narrowed his eyes, his tone dropping low. "That's why their numbers are incredibly rare. They're nothing like those filthy scavenger eagles the Forest Elves keep."
Ren, Kirito, and Asuna all froze for a moment. Their eyes turned toward the black-furred wolf, each strand gleaming like threads of midnight silk in the light.
The thought that this creature… could grow even larger, even stronger, sent an involuntary shiver down their spines.
.....
"Finally back again." Aisen stretched lightly, as if trying to shake off the weariness built up over the long journey.
The midday sun still cast its warm glow over the cobblestone path, its light filtering through the leaves and scattering into flickering golden patches on the ground.
The air no longer carried the scent of dampness and dust, now it was tinged with the faint aroma of wood and dried grass, a quiet sign that they had left the battlefield far behind, and that safety lay only a short distance ahead.
"Let's split up here for now. We still have a few things to take care of. Right, Ren?" Without warning, Aisen slung an arm around Ren's shoulders, pulling him along as if eager to end the conversation.
Ren blinked, barely having time to react before he was dragged away, leaving Kirito and Asuna behind with puzzled looks. But after only a few steps, Aisen slowed, turning toward Kizmel.
"Do you want to visit them?" His voice was lower now, stripped of the earlier lighthearted tone.
Kizmel shook her head slightly, her calm eyes carrying a faint shadow of sorrow. "I've already paid my respects."
"I see..." Aisen nodded as if satisfied with the answer, then started walking again, tugging Ren along.
Beneath the rare burst of sunlight that pierced the forest's constant fog, their two figures gradually disappeared down the gentle slope, leaving behind only the midday rustle of the wind among the trees.
They followed a narrow path hidden between thick bushes, until the deep blue surface of a lake spread out before them.
The water was still, mirroring the brilliant noonday sky yet the lake's shore was a scene of quiet solemnity. Rows of swords were driven into the earth, standing like the final sentinels guarding the remnants of a battlefield now long silent.
Ren and Aisen stopped.
Without a word, they both knelt and laid fresh flowers upon the grass before the swords.
The scent of the blossoms drifted gently into the breeze, mingling with the cold metallic tang of steel aged by time.
Across the water, the trees cast their shadows long and low, as if bowing to the warriors who had fallen. Only the faint sound of water lapping at the shore whispered a belated farewell.
"I've come to see you again..." Aisen lowered his head, placing his hand gently on the hilt of the sword before him, as though trying to pass some warmth into the chill of the steel.
The lake's surface shimmered under pale gold sunlight, the wind carrying the scents of wild grass and flowers.
His voice grew quieter, as if afraid to disturb the stillness.
"...But perhaps I won't be able to visit you as often anymore."
A petal slipped from the bouquet in his hand, drifting onto the water and floating slowly away. His gaze followed it, tinged with both longing and an unspoken sorrow.
Then he straightened, giving Ren's shoulder a light pat, firm enough to draw him back to the present.
"Let's go... we've got a lot to do today." Though his tone was even, there was something else beneath it, as though each word carried a hidden weight.
Without waiting for Ren to respond, Aisen grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, as if afraid Ren might stop to ask questions.
"Wait a second..." Ren started, but Aisen's pace didn't slow.
Ren's blue eyes drifted back toward the lake.
Amid the still water, the swords gleamed like strands of silver thread, their reflections tangled with faint wisps of gray mist drifting low.
And in the space where the mist and steel met... vague, translucent figures began to take shape.
They stood there, silently watching Ren and Aisen, eyes calm, lips curved into faint smiles of release, like those who had finally set down a burden carried for far too long.
Ren held his breath. A sudden, inexplicable ache stirred in his chest, as if some forgotten memory had been brushed awake yet remained just out of reach.
"What is it?" Aisen's glance was sharper than usual.
Ren turned his head back. The lake was still there, but the figures were gone—vanished as if they had never been.
"Nothing... I guess I was just seeing things." His voice was barely above a whisper, the final syllables fading into the wind, unclear whether he was speaking to Aisen or to himself.
But there was no time to dwell on the fleeting moment.
Aisen was right... today would be filled with one task after another, leaving no room to breathe.
Ren drew in a deep breath, pushing away the strange residue of the lakeside, and followed Aisen.
Whatever awaited ahead, he could already feel an urgent rhythm spreading through the camp... and through his own heart.
(Note: One chapter today, three chapters tomorrow.)