Setan bolted out, but the moment the bushes reached his waist, he face-planted. He stayed completely still, forcing his breathing to slow. Each breath came thread-thin as darkness embraced him.
He crept along, crouching even lower to hide himself better. The bushes rustled in the wind. Convinced he couldn't be caught, he swallowed hard and stayed quiet as a mouse, conserving what body heat he could.
A bit of snot ran out.
The moment Setan sniffled it back, a wolf's jaws clamped onto his throat. It grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shook violently. His spine snapped with a sickening crack as the wolf lifted him off the ground. He couldn't make a sound—his mouth stayed clamped shut as he desperately tried to use what strength he had left to survive.
That was it. Setan died with his throat torn clean through. The wolf began feasting on his corpse. Owls and other scavengers crept closer, drawn by the scent of blood, waiting for their turn.
Handless Sendabil ran like his life depended on it, pouring every ounce of strength into his escape. But Rowan could easily keep pace. Size wasn't the issue—weight was what mattered.
A marathoner's body is thin and light.
A soccer player's thighs are thick and heavy.
It was the difference between a trotting horse and a galloping one. Sendabil was heavy, and he was also lugging a round shield, leather armor, and a halberd. He had incredible strength and ran impressively far—enough to amaze Rowan—but he couldn't keep it up for long.
Running 150 meters through the forest was actually pretty good. He wasn't a warrior who trained daily, didn't have the mindset of a soldier who bled to keep citizens safe. A body trained for raiding and plunder was fundamentally different from a soldier's body forged through relentless daily training.
Add proper mental discipline, and someone with the same build could run twice as far. Fortunately, Sendabil lacked that, though he still ran farther than Rowan expected. Pure survival instinct drove him forward.
That desperation fueled him. Running without looking back was desperation in its rawest form.
"Huff! Huff!"
Sendabil, who'd been running like mad, finally stopped and looked back. The darkness made it impossible to see clearly. Everything hidden in shadow became wavering outlines. Distinguishing anything in the forest was nearly impossible for human eyes.
'Did he lose me?'
The moment that thought crossed his mind, he heard the sharp whistle of an arrow cutting through wind. Sendabil had been shot at before—he knew that sound, one that only someone experienced would recognize.
Thud!
His round shield blocked the arrow.
"You fucking bastard, come out now!"
No answer came. Something rustled ahead, moving through the bushes. Like lightning, Sendabil charged toward it but only caught a musky scent. A wolf—and a fast one. Not something a human could chase down.
Overextending himself, Sendabil twisted his ankle. This was a forest, not flat ground—full of gnarled tree roots and scattered stones. As he slipped, he heard that sharp whistle again.
The distinctive sound of an arrow in flight, long and unnervingly drawn out. Even while stumbling, that sound was unmistakable.
Thud!
His round shield blocked the arrow again, but blocking while off-balance left him imperfect. The arrow deflected off the shield and grazed his shoulder.
"Urk!"
Burning pain flared.
Rowan mentally clicked his tongue when the massive outline barely flinched.
'What is this, the Terminator or something? Can't even see him...'
Blocking arrows with just sound? Didn't seem human. Maybe with enough experience, but... no. Even then it seemed impossible.
In complete darkness, you could give someone a shield and tell them to block arrows—sure, that could work. But in this wind with bushes whipping everywhere? Nobody should be able to do that.
'Well, there is someone similar.'
Someone like Jose, commander of the Iron Pouch Mercenary Group, who had talent Rowan could barely comprehend. The man could rapid-fire arrows and hit every weak point—from goblins' shoulder blades to every vital spot—while they ran and flailed wildly.
Rowan didn't have the arrows for hunting goblins, but he'd experienced Jose's skill through the black door. That's why he immediately recognized Sendabil's talent too.
'Tempting.'
It wasn't just talent for blocking arrows—it was something more developed. Combat sense.
Someone born with the ability to block arrows even while slipping like that had to be absurdly good at close combat.
'Don't think I can win if I charge in.'
Bear-like physique? Definitely threatening. Round shields had earned the title "god of close combat"—that's how powerful they were as weapons. The wide surface made them excellent for both attacking and defending.
Even with a short weapon, if someone rushed in with a shield and cracked you in the jaw, you'd be helpless. Unless you were a trained soldier, facing someone with a shield was nearly impossible to win against.
'Can't take him down from range either.'
Time flowed relentlessly. Sendabil went quiet, having instinctively realized that Rowan couldn't risk charging him. So he hurled all kinds of curses, trying to provoke Rowan.
Starting with Rowan's mother, then his siblings—all sorts of filthy, obscene insults.
'Not even funny.'
Rowan didn't fall for the provocation. Three years of online gaming teaches you a thing or two. The low-level taunts were too obvious to trigger any real emotion. It was like having a flame war with an elementary schooler—just made it more amusing.
Sendabil, who'd been shouting unanswered provocations, eventually wore himself out. Since he wasn't much of a talker to begin with, even running his mouth became exhausting.
'When would that guy attack?'
He'd strike when Sendabil was most exhausted. But Rowan was using the darkness to his advantage.
'Right before dawn.'
That moment when the moon has set and the sun hasn't risen—when there's not a speck of light anywhere. That's when he'd strike. Sendabil's thinking was dead-on. Rowan was planning exactly that.
'The wolf that killed Setan will definitely come back. Then it'll be four wolves plus me.'
Strike just before dawn with maximum force when he's at his weakest.
Earlier, before setting the fire, Rowan had fed the wolves jerky and water from the village. While Sendabil stayed still to conserve stamina, Rowan went around personally tending to the wolves. He also ate jerky piece by piece and sipped water between patrols.
Keeping plenty of distance, he simply watched that bear-like silhouette.
"Urgh!"
Sendabil's condition was terrible. He'd dumped the low-quality white powder—a mix of numbing agent and painkiller—into his ruined eye socket, but it was just a temporary fix. The side effects made his stomach churn sickeningly.
Having drunk heavily and gorged himself on food earlier, the dehydration now wracking his body made everything worse.
'I've sweated too much.'
His mouth felt like sand.
Sendabil kept swallowing what little spit he had. He even needed to piss. He loosened his pants slightly and pulled them down just enough, pissing in small amounts and catching it in his hand to drink. It tasted revolting, but to survive, he needed any liquid he could get.
He wanted to vomit but forced it down. After drinking and waiting about five minutes, his condition improved slightly. The dizziness eased a bit.
'Would be nice if he attacked now.'
He felt like his blood was drying up. More than anything, staying motionless let his body temperature plummet. Since they'd been feasting inside with the wooden shutters closed, he'd dressed light. He wore leather armor as a minimum, but it couldn't block the cold wind that swept through the forest after midnight, stealing his body heat.
Leather armor with clumps of fur ripped out had zero insulation. Meanwhile, Rowan kept warm by hugging the brown wolf Dono, whom he'd fed and raised. The difference had to be massive—low body temperature meant you couldn't move properly, and cold-stiffened muscles couldn't exert full strength.
Just like no athlete enters the ring without warming up properly, the gap between a body generating heat and one shivering with cold was enormous.
Handless Sendabil suffered more and more. His eye wound was serious, and he couldn't get proper rest. Chills seeped through his entire body. The throbbing pain in his eye socket made him break out in cold sweat.
'No more medicine.'
The leather pouch with painkillers was empty. The agony had made him use way too much, and while running, the impact had caused blood to gush from the wound, spilling out most of the powder.
'Used way too much back then.'
In agony, Sendabil groped around his belt, checking what remained, searching for anything to improve his situation. Unlike Rowan, he wasn't prepared.
No water pouch, no jerky—too heavy to carry. He'd always just ordered subordinates to fetch things for him. Now, not a single subordinate was here to help. His nearly empty belt offered nothing.
Except one emergency medicine.
Sendabil's expression brightened when he felt the moist texture inside a leather pouch. Had to be the herb paste.
He dumped it straight into his ruined eye. The pain intensified, but he gritted his teeth and endured. He could even feel the wound tearing open further, warm blood trickling down his face. His skin was so cold the blood felt hot.
The sharp pain was brief. When the crushed herbs mixed with various compounds settled into the wound, he could tell things were improving. Among the side effects, numbness replaced the searing pain.
'Should've saved this for right before the fight.'
The quiet hours dragged on, and Sendabil felt drowsiness creeping in. He pinched his forearm hard and tried to stay alert, imagining enemies everywhere. But he couldn't hear a thing, even when he strained his ears.
Looking around, Sendabil had no idea if enemies were nearby or not. The silence had stretched not just one or two hours, but nearly three.
'Should I run? No.'
Leaning against a tree, Sendabil would doze off briefly, then snap alert whenever strong wind rustled the bushes. He began sleeping in short bursts, focusing all his attention on listening. He knew the enemy would definitely attack before dawn—at the darkest hour.
Rowan also dozed in brief intervals. With the wolves keeping watch, he felt more secure than Sendabil. Dono's warm fur helped immensely.
"Grr. Mmm."
Dono's tongue licking his face woke Rowan instantly. Kaiya had already landed on his shoulder. Rowan whispered.
"You stay up there."
"Caw."
Kaiya cawed irritably once in his ear, as if disagreeing, then pecked at his neck. Feeling the sharp sting, Rowan fumbled in his leather pouch and pulled out Kaiya's grain powder—feed upgraded with dried fruit that gave off a sweet, fragrant scent. After eating, Kaiya soon flew up and disappeared into the darkness. The pitch-black bird would need to move soon.
Rowan stood from his seated position and raised both arms horizontally with his shortsword, generating body heat. Then he shouted from the bushes, drawing Sendabil's attention.
"Your time's come, you big bastard!"
Drawing his shortsword, Rowan didn't carry a round shield in his other hand. His good-quality shield hadn't been brought on the hunt—it was back wherever the bandits had piled their gear. Instead, Rowan gripped a dagger.
He slashed through bushes with his shortsword, making deliberate noise. Sendabil hurriedly grabbed his round shield and hefted his halberd onto his shoulder.
'Not as strong as before.'
When he struggled to properly wield the halberd—a two-handed weapon—with just one hand, his expression immediately hardened. This was bad. But he had to win this fight somehow.
"Gyaaaaaaaaah!!!!!!"
He roared long and loud, putting every ounce of strength into his voice. His whole body trembled as he screamed until his breath ran out completely. The massive battle cry echoed through the forest, and Rowan involuntarily swallowed hard.
Tremendous vocal power. That alone threatened to break Rowan's momentum. But there were too many reasons to kill this man. He had to avenge Rakson, who'd generously taught him skills. He had to eliminate the threat to the hometown he needed to return to.
'I can kill him.'
Rowan spread both arms wide and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Gyahahat!"
Sendabil snorted dismissively, but Rowan felt heat surging through his body once more.