Chapter 13
Pain.
That was the first thing Jared felt.
A searing, raw ache that pulsed through every inch of his battered body. His eyes shot open, heart pounding as he stared up at a dim, wooden ceiling. At first, everything was a blur—colors blending together, shapes indistinct—but after a few moments, his vision sharpened.
He blinked. Where…?
Disoriented, Jared tried to piece his memory back together. At first, his thoughts were scattered—like fragments of a broken mirror. But then it came, trickling in like cold water down his spine.
The Sweden Trial...
The drunken guard...
The cute, fluffy rabbit…
No—the demon rabbit.
That terrifying blur of wings and claws.
The fight that nearly ended his life.
He shivered.
I survived...? The thought struck him like lightning.
But... could the dead still feel pain? His entire body ached with a deep, bone-shattering agony—something no spirit should feel.
With a groan, he tried to sit up—only for a white-hot wave of pain to crash through him like a tidal wave.
"AAARGH!" he cried out, collapsing back with a gasp.
"Easy now. You're in no condition to be moving around."
The voice was calm. Deep. Close.
Jared turned his head, grimacing.
A man sat a few feet away, cross-legged near a crackling bonfire. His long black hair was intricately braided and reached all the way down his back. His eyes were steady, his posture composed.
Jared blinked again. For a fleeting second, a wild hope stirred in his chest.
"...Dad?"
The man turned toward him and smiled gently. "Hello there, son."
Jared's heart jumped—but only for a moment. As the firelight illuminated the stranger's face, his hope crumbled like ash.
This wasn't his father.
Not even close.
Jared's expression fell, confusion and disappointment settling in like a fog. His jaw tightened.
"Who... are you?"
The man stood, walking over to Jared's side. "Your benefactor," he said simply. "I found you lying in a pool of blood just outside the Deathroot clearing. You were torn up pretty badly. Honestly, I didn't think you'd make it. But when I checked your pulse… there was still a flicker of life."
He leaned down slightly, eyes scanning Jared's pale face. "I couldn't just leave you there."
Jared stared up at the man, his thoughts swirling. The last thing he remembered was killing that rabbit—then darkness.
"So... you saved me?" he murmured.
"I helped you survive," the man corrected. "The will to live… that was all you."
Silence fell between them for a moment, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire.
Then Jared groaned again, trying to sit up despite the dull throbbing in his ribs. "I need to get back... the temple. I've been gone too long already." His voice was hoarse.
"How long...?" he asked, his breath ragged. "An hour? Maybe two?"
The man chuckled softly and sat back down by the fire. "An hour? Kid, you've been out cold for two days."
Jared's eyes widened in shock. "Two days?!"
The blood drained from his face. The High Priest… the temple... they must think I'm dead. What excuse could possibly cover this?
Panic began to rise in his chest.
"I need to go," Jared muttered through clenched teeth, groaning as he forced himself upright.
The man by the fire looked at him with a mixture of concern and quiet amusement. Jared's body trembled with the effort, pain clearly written all over his face—but still, he refused to give up.
With a sigh, the man reached into his pouch, then casually tossed something at Jared.
Thonk!
The small object bounced off Jared's forehead and clattered onto the ground.
Jared winced and shot him a glare. "What the hell was that for?"
The man gave him a look that screamed, Are you serious? "It's a health pill," he said, as if explaining why fire was hot. "Swallow that and you'll stop moving like a dying slug."
Jared eyed the small green pill suspiciously. He didn't trust this man—not even a little. But... if this stranger had wanted him dead, he could've let him bleed out in the forest. Or slit his throat while he was unconscious.
Instead, he had bandaged his wounds... and now offered medicine?
Reluctantly—mostly because he had no better option—Jared popped the pill into his mouth.
The effect was almost immediate.
Warmth surged through his limbs. His body felt lighter, sharper. The pain dulled, fading to a manageable ache. He exhaled a long breath and managed to stand without feeling like the world would crumble under him.
"Thanks," he said, more genuinely than he expected.
The man nodded, then—like some wandering saint—handed Jared a piece of roasted meat.
It was small. Barely two bites.
Still, Jared's stomach growled with anticipation. "You're just full of surprises," he muttered, sinking his teeth into the tender, smoky meat.
It was delicious.
Too delicious.
His eyes narrowed.
Wait a second...
He turned toward the man slowly, suspicion crawling over him like ice. "Where's the winged rabbit?"
The man froze mid-stretch.
"...About that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
A cold dread slid down Jared's spine. He looked around the campsite—his eyes scanning the surroundings—until he found the horrifying truth.
Bones. Scattered. Picked clean.
His jaw dropped. "MY RABBIT?!"
The scream echoed through the forest like a thunderclap.
All at once, pain turned to rage. Fury boiled inside him as he glared at the black-haired man with betrayal written across his soul.
"You cooked my rabbit!" Jared roared. "I almost DIED killing that thing! It was going to be my VICTORY DINNER!"
The man blinked innocently. "Technically, we both ate it—"
"YOU gave me a bite! A bite!" Jared seethed, scanning the area.
His eyes darted back and forth, searching—Where's the dagger? The emerald one...
"What are you looking for?" the man asked, a bit warily now.
Jared forced a smile. "Say... when you found me, did you happen to see an emerald dagger?"
The man's face lit up. "Actually, yeah." He reached into his satchel and pulled it out. "Nice craftsmanship. Yours?"
Jared's eyes gleamed as he took it. "Thanks," he said sweetly—
Then lunged.
The dagger flashed through the air, aimed straight at the man's shoulder.
But the man moved like the wind. He twisted gracefully, flipping backward and landing a few feet away with an elegant somersault. He looked at Jared with genuine confusion.
"What are you doing?"
"Justice!" Jared shouted, charging again. "I was going to make stew! RABBIT STEW!"
The man laughed and drew a small blade of his own. But instead of countering or striking back, he simply parried. Every one of Jared's furious swings was blocked effortlessly, the man barely moving more than a wrist or step.
To him, it was nothing but a warm-up.
To Jared, it was war.
Minutes passed. Jared's rage burned hot—but his stamina burned out faster.
Soon, he was on his knees, panting heavily, sweat dripping from his brow. The dagger slipped from his hand and clattered onto the forest floor.
He had given it everything.
But the man hadn't even broken a sweat.
Jared glared up at him, breathless. "You... thief."
The man smirked. "You're welcome."
Jared collapsed backward, groaning. "Next time I kill something... I'm burying it with a sign that says 'Not for sharing.'"
To Be Continued....
Here's the chapter, guys!
Don't forget to vote and comment! 🔥💬