The late afternoon sun was sinking behind the cragged hills, casting the forest in soft amber light. A cool wind carried the scent of damp earth and moss, rustling the broad leaves of nearby ferns. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic scraping of stone against soil as a massive creature stirred.
Luciel turned his head toward Mino, who stood beside him, her silver hair catching the dying sunlight.
"Mino," he asked thoughtfully, "how does the Black Tortoise compare to the fierce beasts you've seen before?"
He needed a point of reference—a sense of scale—to understand the true strength of this newly tamed creature. The rock tortoise before them was immense, easily the size of a small cabin, but strength wasn't measured only in size.
"Black Tortoise?" Mino echoed, puzzled for a moment before realizing he was referring to the turtle itself.
"Oh, you mean that's its name?" she murmured. After a brief pause, she bit her lower lip in thought, her bright blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Hmm… in terms of size, I think the Black Tortoise might actually be smaller than the beasts I remember."
Luciel nodded slowly. The advantage of the rock tortoise was obvious—its size, its solid defense. But such bulk also carried its disadvantages: slow movement, lack of flexibility, and vulnerability to agile opponents.
Still, this particular tortoise possessed a unique talent—Earth-Rock Piercing—a natural ability that compensated for its cumbersome form, allowing it to move through the ground with surprising speed and stealth.
Mino's eyes sparkled with sudden curiosity. "Luciel, can I climb on its back and take a look?"
Luciel couldn't help but chuckle at her eagerness. "Of course you can."
He reached out mentally, extending a thread of thought toward the tortoise—communicating not through words but through intent. The creature responded almost immediately, letting out a deep, resonant "Wooo~" that reverberated through the ground like distant thunder.
Then, as if understanding their wish, the creature's rocky shell began to shift. Along its sides, jagged stone spines retracted, and the ground before them swelled upward—forming a staircase of solid rock that led up to the tortoise's broad back.
"Wow!" Mino gasped, her eyes shining with wonder. "It can understand us?"
"It can understand me," Luciel replied with a faint smile. He placed a hand on the cool stone of the staircase and began to climb.
When they reached the top, the tortoise's back revealed itself to be surprisingly flat, about seven or eight square meters of level ground. The rock spines that once jutted upward now formed a low barrier around the edges—half a meter high—like a natural fence enclosing a small platform.
Luciel looked around, impressed. "Not bad at all," he murmured, directing a silent thought of approval toward the creature.
The tortoise gave another low, pleased rumble, clearly enjoying the praise.
"It's so smart," Mino said, her voice full of awe as she climbed up beside him. When she looked down, she saw the staircase of rock retracting smoothly back into the earth, as if it had never been there. "It's like it really understands everything you say."
The girl began pacing around the wide, flat back of the tortoise, tapping the stone under her feet. Then, with a mischievous grin, she asked, "Luciel, what if we built a house on its back?"
Luciel blinked, taken aback by the sudden suggestion. "A house? On its back?" he repeated, but then the idea began to take root in his mind. His gaze softened.
"Hmm… you know, that's actually not impossible."
Her laughter rang bright and clear. "I was joking!" But when she saw the serious look on his face, she tilted her head curiously. "Wait, you really think we could do that?"
Luciel's mind was already spinning with possibilities.
More and more beasts would join them in the future; that much he knew. Staying too close to human settlements would become inconvenient—perhaps even dangerous. And sleeping out in the open, unprotected, was hardly a long-term solution.
But if the tortoise kept growing… if it evolved even further…
The creature could become large enough to serve not just as transport, but as home.
Mino noticed his faraway look and waved a hand in front of his face. "Luciel, don't tell me you're seriously thinking about building a house up here?"
He laughed softly. "Not yet. The space is still too small for that. But maybe a wooden shed for now—it's doable."
Mino clasped her hands together in excitement. "Really? You mean, we could actually live on its back someday?"
Luciel raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smile. "Why not? Imagine having our own mobile home. A house that moves wherever we want to go. No more rushing, no more worrying about where to stay."
Her face lit up. "That sounds amazing!" she exclaimed, twirling around in delight. "It'd be like being an adventure hunter—traveling the world, seeing everything!"
Her tone softened as she looked out toward the distant mountains. "And maybe, while we travel… I could keep searching for my sister."
Luciel's smile gentled. "You will, Mino."
She turned back quickly, her energy bouncing back as she said, "Luciel, what if we build a firepit here? Would that hurt the Black Tortoise?"
"No," Luciel said, glancing down at the stone beneath them. "Its shell is solid rock. A fire won't harm it."
"Then what if we load a bunch of things up here—supplies, tools, maybe even furniture? Would that be too heavy for it?"
Luciel chuckled. "Even if I put a hundred of you on its back, it wouldn't feel a thing."
Mino pouted playfully, pretending to glare at him before breaking into laughter. Her excitement was infectious, her voice carrying across the open clearing. For the first time in a long while, Luciel felt something he hadn't realized he'd been missing—a sense of warmth. A sense of life.
He leaned against one of the stone spines that framed the shell, watching her buzz about, planning their future home in vivid detail. A wooden shed here. A small garden there. Maybe a place for a hammock.
She was all light and laughter, and for a fleeting moment, Luciel thought:
Perhaps traveling with such a lively girl isn't such a bad thing after all.
"Luciel!" Mino suddenly called, her voice breaking through his thoughts. "Let's go back to the camp now! I want to start dismantling the shed right away!"
Luciel laughed under his breath. "Don't be in such a hurry." Then, more seriously, he reminded her, "Don't forget—there might still be rogues near the camp. We should be cautious."
Her face fell, and she scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "Oh… right. I got too excited and forgot about that." She stuck out her tongue in embarrassment, her cheeks flushing pink.
After a moment, she tugged lightly at his sleeve, her voice soft. "If it's really dangerous… maybe we should wait until tomorrow."
Luciel glanced at her—this girl who could face beasts without fear, but who now looked at him with genuine concern. She wasn't fearless. She simply cared too much. Her kindness, though sometimes clumsy, was sincere.
"There's no real danger," he said quietly, tilting his head toward the horizon. A thin ray of sunlight had broken through the gray clouds, illuminating a patch of forest in the distance. But as quickly as it appeared, the light vanished, swallowed again by the shifting clouds.
He sighed. "We'll go back, warn the others, and if they won't listen… we'll leave tomorrow."
That was all he could do—offer kindness, even if it went unseen.
After a pause, Luciel asked, "By the way, how's your relationship with the people in camp? Do you have any close friends there?"
He realized, belatedly, that he knew very little about her past—her life before they met.
"A few, maybe." Mino shrugged, her gaze drifting toward the distant tents barely visible through the trees. "There were some people I used to catch little lizards with. We got along fine, I guess. But… I kind of keep to myself now."
Luciel smiled faintly. "So they were your little hunting buddies, huh?"
"Sort of," she said, though her voice wavered. Her eyes darted away, and she scratched her cheek nervously. "They weren't very good at catching lizards, though. When I caught more than them, they'd get jealous and try to steal mine."
Luciel listened silently as she continued, her tone somewhere between sheepish and defensive.
"I might've… hit them a few times. But they started it! They kept trying to take my lizards, and I wasn't about to let them."
He could easily imagine the scene: a small, stubborn girl standing her ground, a few foolish boys crying after underestimating her strength. It was almost funny—except for the loneliness that lingered beneath her words.
"After that," she said softly, "they stopped talking to me. Started avoiding me, actually."
Luciel's expression softened. "Then they weren't really friends, were they?"
Mino didn't answer, but the flicker of sadness in her eyes said everything.
For someone like her—a mutant child feared or misunderstood by others—life must have been harsh. Constantly pushed away, forced to fend for herself, pretending she didn't care.
Luciel realized then, perhaps more clearly than ever, that he might very well be her first real friend.
He reached out, ruffling her hair gently. "Don't worry about them. You've got me now—and the Black Tortoise. That's already a pretty good start, isn't it?"
Mino blinked up at him, startled for a moment, then smiled—bright and genuine, like sunlight after rain.
"Yeah," she said softly. "That's enough."
The tortoise beneath them let out a low, contented rumble, as if agreeing.
The sound echoed into the quiet evening, mingling with the sigh of the wind and the distant rustle of leaves.
For the first time, it truly felt like the beginning of something new—
a journey not just across lands, but toward belonging.