Equus was far from amused by the insult.
"What do you mean I'm a coward? I just don't want to end up like those fools who jumped around like clowns and then vanished without a trace—not even a scrap of their bodies was ever found!"
Bravus took immediate offense.
"Clown, you say? Sounds like you're telling your own story. Don't you have a mirror at home?"
Equus just shook his head. Deep down, he was talking about his own past—not just his, but also Hank's, who had died because of a plan Equus had came up with.
Bravus, already irritated, now burned with rage. Equus's words made him feel like a clown—and he hated that more than anything.
Seeing that Bravus was about to blow up, Equus quickly stepped back to put some distance between them.
"Fine. Say whatever you want. But I'm not getting involved in your little 'game plan.'"
Instead of calming down, Bravus exploded.
"Game?! Did you just call it a game?! Equus, are you looking down on me?! If you think you've got a better plan, go ahead! Let's see if it's better than what you're calling a 'game'!"
Equus regretted speaking. He hadn't expected Bravus to take it that personally. But to him, calling it a "game" wasn't an insult—Clayton was dangerous. He had taken down Hank, a trained killer. If that was possible, what wasn't?
So Equus decided to keep his distance. He didn't want to say anything else that might spark another outburst.
Bravus, watching Equus silently walk away, took it as an insult. In his eyes, Equus couldn't even be bothered to talk to a "clown" like him.
He wanted to tear Equus apart right then and there.
But just as Bravus was about to cause a scene, Arthur stepped in.
With a firm look, Arthur said, "Enough! Stop this childish game. We're deep in the forest. There's no room for carelessness. You're putting everyone in danger."
His voice grew steely. "Watch yourselves. This isn't the safe city anymore. If either of you keeps this up, don't blame me for losing my manners."
Bravus didn't care much about Arthur's speech—except for one word: "game."
In his mind, it wasn't just Equus. Arthur, too, was looking down on him. He wanted to rip them both apart to prove himself. But even Bravus knew—attacking Arthur would be a terrible idea.
So he stayed quiet and followed orders with a sour face.
A little while later, the group stopped to rest. They ate their packed meals and began prepping their hunting tools.
Tasks were divided—some set traps, others readied weapons or tracked prey. Everyone was busy… except Bravus, who was still seething over Equus's rejection.
As far as he was concerned, his plan was solid. He didn't understand why Equus wouldn't help him get revenge.
But the hunt moved on without him.
A small group began tracking a trail. After a while, one of them pointed excitedly—an animal was spotted in the distance, munching on mushrooms.
Arthur signaled for silence. He was thrilled. Their hunt had just begun, and they'd already found something—withouteven using Bravus's perfume.
Everyone readied themselves to bring down the creature in one clean move.
Meanwhile, Bravus, too absorbed in his own thoughts, failed to notice the entire group had already halted. He kept walking—straight toward the prey.
His footsteps startled the young boar. It lifted its head and spotted the group nearby.
Snorting, "Squeeee!"
The boar bolted, disappearing into the forest while the hunters stood frozen in disappointment.
Only then did they notice Bravus standing dazed where the boar had been moments ago.
"Hey, Bravus! What the hell are you doing?! Didn't we tell everyone to stop?"
"Yeah! Why'd you go over there? The prey ran off because of you!"
"Focus, Bravus!"
Realizing his mistake, Bravus was briefly sheepish—but his pride quickly took over.
"What? Why are you all shouting? You'll scare off the prey with your stupidity!"
Eyes rolled all around. Wasn't that exactly what he had just done?
Bravus didn't care. "Aren't you forgetting I have perfume? Why aren't you people grateful?"
He sprayed some perfume on a branch, tossed it ahead, and then slipped to the back of the group—like he'd just done his part and the rest was up to them.
Arthur could only sigh and shake his head. They hid again, eyes on the perfumed branch.
Arthur carefully tied a string to the branch, making sure none of his scent clung to it.
Meanwhile, Bravus edged closer to Equus.
Equus looked irritated.
"What now?"
"I just want to ask—why do you seem so afraid of Clayton?"
Equus paused. "I'm not afraid. I just don't want unnecessary trouble."
Bravus didn't buy it. To him, Equus looked completely intimidated by Clayton.
He couldn't understand it. What was there to fear?
With no satisfying answer, Bravus clapped a hand on Equus's shoulder and said, "Don't worry. Even if you won't help, I'll take care of Clayton for you—so you won't have to be scared anymore."
Equus's blood boiled. He was so angry, he actually laughed.
"Hahaha… Bravus, Bravus. Who the hell do you think you're pitying?! I don't need your charity!"
Grinding his teeth, he added coldly, "Since you're being so generous, let me be clear—don't ever cross Clayton. You won't survive it. What you see? It's just the surface."
But to Bravus, it sounded like mockery.
"Equus, I know you're traumatized, but is that how you talk to someone trying to help you? You think I can't kill that brat?"
Equus just shook his head, defeated. This man was hopeless.
He didn't waste another breath. Equus walked away, convinced it was too dangerous to associate with someone so reckless.
Bravus muttered behind him, furious. "Coward. Spineless little worm. Clayton's bootlicker…!"
But Equus didn't care. To him, his life mattered more than some fragile sense of honor or pride.
Meanwhile, Arthur's group was in high spirits—they had successfully lured a large boar into a trap using the perfume.
They were preparing to lure it in deeper, ready to strike. It was the safest, most efficient approach.
Everyone was focused—until Bravus, still distracted, unknowingly stepped into the attack path.
The mood shattered. Several people panicked.
But the boar was still under control.
Until Bravus, accidentally shoved from behind, fell—and spilled a large amount of perfume on the ground.
The boar caught the strong scent, went berserk, and charged straight toward it.
Everyone stared in horror.
Arthur shouted, ordering them to throw ropes to stop the boar—but it was no use. The ropes snapped like twigs.
The boar barreled through, heading straight for Arthur.
Arthur froze. His legs refused to move. A cold shiver ran down his back.
"Damn it…!"
And then—