Bral's eyes flicked up and down Amukelo once again, now that the immediate danger had passed. His brows furrowed slightly, his expression shifting from gratitude to curiosity as he took in the ragged, makeshift clothing, the crude but functional gear, the way Amukelo carried himself—alert, but strangely detached.
"But really, what happened to you?" Bral asked finally, tilting his head. "You look... kinda wild."
Amukelo glanced down at himself, at the tattered animal-hide shirt, the frayed cloth still clinging to his arms, the worn-out boots that had long since lost any real structure. He blinked, then let out a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It's because… for the last few months, I was living alone in the wild," he admitted, still smiling, though it was more self-conscious than anything. "You're the first people I've seen in a while."
Bral's expression shifted again, now more puzzled than before. "In the wild? Why would you do that? Do you… hate civilization?"
Amukelo chuckled, shaking his head. "No, no, by any means." His lips curled into a small smirk, but there was a faint tiredness behind it. "I just thought it'd be the best way to gain experience and get stronger."
Bral raised an eyebrow. "Get stronger? Have you thought about going to school?"
Amukelo paused. His smirk faded slightly as he blinked, tilting his head. "What school?"
Bral stared at him with a flat, almost blank look. "You know… the kind where you practice your swordsmanship or something like that?"
For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, Amukelo laughed. Not loudly, not mockingly, just genuinely amused. "I never thought about that," he admitted.
Bral shook his head, half in disbelief. "You lived out in the wild instead of training in a school? You must've had a hell of a time learning."
Before Amukelo could respond, a quiet groan cut through the air.
They both turned immediately, their postures straightening.
A faint rustle came from where the mage lay. Then, slowly, she stirred. Her fingers twitched first, then her head shifted slightly, her breathing deepening.
She let out a soft, dazed sound, then her eyes blinked open.
At first, she seemed disoriented, her green gaze flickering between them without recognition. Then, as if waking from a strange dream, her expression shifted, confusion knitting her brows.
"Huh…? What happened?" Her voice was soft but carried an underlying strength, despite the lingering grogginess. Then she frowned slightly, looking around. "Where am I? And… who is that?"
Bral stepped forward with relief. "Oh... Pao, you're awake. That's good."
Amukelo blinked at the name. So that's her name.
Bral continued, gesturing to the dead moths littering the ground. "We were attacked by Hollow Moths. You, Bao, and Idin were all paralyzed." He nodded toward Amukelo. "And this is our savior—his name is Amukelo. If not for him, I would've ended up like you all, and it would've been over for us."
Pao turned to look at Amukelo, her green eyes locking onto him.
For a brief second, she just stared, as if assessing him, trying to piece together what had happened while she was unconscious. Amukelo shifted slightly, uncertain of how to respond.
Then, despite the dizziness still evident in her movements, she pushed herself up slowly. As soon as she was on her feet, she smoothed out her robes, took a small breath, and curtsied slightly.
"Nice to meet you, Amukelo," she said, her voice polite but still carrying some warmth. "Thank you for your help."
Amukelo gave her an awkward smile. He had no idea how to respond to someone being so formal with him. "Uh… yeah. No problem."
Before anyone could say anything else—Amukelo's instincts flared.
He whipped his head around, catching the faintest flicker of movement. His fingers tightened around his sword as his eyes locked onto a moth darting toward them from the shadows.
"Watch out!" he shouted.
Pao's eyes widened in alarm as she turned just in time to see the thing flying straight for her face.
But before it could reach her, Amukelo was already moving.
He lunged forward, swinging his blade in a clean, decisive motion. The sword cut through the moth mid-air, severing it in two. The halves hit the ground with a sickening, wet thud.
The clearing was silent once again.
Pao stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. Her cheeks were slightly flushed as she looked at Amukelo, clearly processing how close she had come to being caught again.
Then Amukelo said, "We have to be careful. They still might be out there."
She glanced at him, her voice wavered slightly, and she cleared her throat quickly, composing herself.. "Tha… thank you."
Bral walked up to Amukelo, clapping a strong hand on his shoulder. "It seems like your approach was good." His voice was light, but impressed. "You have amazing awareness. If not for you, neither me nor Pao would've reacted in time."
Amukelo exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "I just got lucky," he muttered.
Bral shook his head but didn't argue. Instead, he turned to look at the two still-unconscious figures. His expression hardened slightly.
"We better put some distance between us and this place." He nudged Idin with his boot slightly before looking back at them. "Who knows what might come if we wait here for them to wake up?"
He reached down, grabbing Idin by the shoulders and hoisting him up. "I'll take Idin. Pao, you take Bao."
Pao nodded, already stepping toward her sister. Bral then turned to Amukelo, his expression more serious.
"And you, Amukelo…" He adjusted his hold on Idin's body. "Defend us as much as you can while we move. For those things, neither me nor her will be effective."
Amukelo nodded once, gripping his sword a little tighter.
After some time of moving through the dense forest, keeping a constant watch for any remaining Hollow Moths or other lurking dangers, the group finally stumbled upon a small, shallow cave nestled between a cluster of boulders. It wasn't much—barely deep enough to be considered a real shelter—but it was good enough. The cave would shield them from the cold night air, keep them hidden from wandering creatures, and most importantly, give them a place to rest.
Bral set Idin down against the stone wall carefully, his movements controlled but heavy with exhaustion. Pao did the same with Bao, making sure her sister was lying in a comfortable position before stepping back and rolling her shoulders, clearly stiff from carrying her.
Amukelo, still gripping his sword, stood a little apart from them, his posture slightly tense. His eyes scanned the entrance of the cave, then the surrounding area, his instincts still on high alert. He wasn't used to stopping so soon—he had trained himself to keep moving until he was absolutely certain no threats were nearby. But for now, it seemed… safe.
"We need a fire," Bral said after catching his breath.
Amukelo nodded. "I'll go gather some wood."
"I'll help," Pao offered.
With that, the two of them scattered through the nearby trees, collecting whatever dry branches and logs they could find. It didn't take long—Amukelo had done this countless times before, and Pao, despite being clearly more accustomed to civilization than he was, was quick and efficient. By the time they returned to the cave, they had more than enough.
As Amukelo crouched down, ready to start the tedious process of igniting the fire, he noticed Pao step forward. With a small, almost playful flick of her wrist, she raised her slender wooden staff.
Then in an instant, flames burst to life at the tip of her staff before leaping onto the stacked wood. The fire roared to life effortlessly, flickering warmly in the dim cave.
Amukelo stared. His hands, which had been ready to scrape stones together, fell to his sides.
"Wow…" he muttered, his voice laced with pure astonishment. He had always started fires the hard way, through friction, patience, and sheer effort. To see it happen instantly, so easily, like it was nothing…
"So cool," he murmured, unable to hide his fascination. "You can just ignite a fire like that?"
Pao smiled warmly, clearly amused by his reaction.
"It's called magic," she said, twirling her staff lightly in her fingers. "I can do a lot more than that."
Amukelo's eyes widened slightly as she turned toward the cave wall.
She lifted her staff again, and this time, a thin jet of water formed at its tip. It shot forward at high speed, hitting the stone with enough force to slightly pierce into it. The water hissed as it struck the solid surface, sending a fine mist into the air.
Amukelo blinked rapidly. Water? From nothing?
"Or I can also do more simple spells like this," Pao continued, shifting her stance slightly. Her green eyes flickered with excitement as she pointed her staff again. This time, a white beam erupted from the tip, hitting the cave wall with a dull, heavy impact. A deeper hole formed where the magic struck, sending tiny bits of stone scattering to the ground.
"It's effective, but it takes a lot of my mana, so I usually ise different spells." she added with a slight grin.
"You never heard about magic before?" she asked, tilting her head.
Amukelo finally closed his mouth, snapping out of his shock. "I've heard about it, but…" He was about to say something else when—
"Pao," Bral cut in flatly, rubbing his forehead, "I know you love magic, and you want to show off, but could you possibly not destroy our cave?"
Pao paused mid-motion, then winced slightly. "Oh… right." She lowered her staff sheepishly. "Sorry for that."
Bral smirked. "You don't need to apologize for something like this," he said, shaking his head slightly.
Then, after a moment, he reached into his pack and pulled a cloak out
It was sturdy, well-made, woven from thick material with reinforced stitching along the edges. It was practical, yet carried a quality far superior to anything Amukelo had worn before. Bral extended it toward him.
"Take this. It'll make you look more… civilized."
Amukelo hesitated before grabbing the fabric. As soon as he ran his fingers over it, he could feel the difference. It was heavier, warmer, not rough like the skins he had been wearing. His eyes lit up slightly.
"Wow… thank you," he said, his voice softer than before.
Bral grinned slightly. "It's the least I can do for you."
Then his gaze flickered downward—toward Amukelo's sword. His expression shifted, curiosity lighting up his face.
"How did you get such an amazing blade if you've been living in the wild?" he asked. His eyes lingered on the weapon, studying it. "To be honest, it kinda reminds me of a blade from old elven legends."
Amukelo stiffened slightly. His fingers unconsciously tightened around the hilt of his sword, almost as if protecting it.
Bral noticed immediately and raised his hands in a calming gesture.
"You don't need to answer if you don't want to," he said quickly. "I'm just curious."
Amukelo exhaled, shifting slightly. He knew he wasn't being accused of anything, but still… he wasn't used to people asking him things. He had lived too long in silence, too long in isolation. Talking about himself felt… foreign.
Still, he forced himself to relax his grip and muttered, "No, it's not like that. I'm just… not used to talking about it." He glanced at the sword again, then at Bral. "This blade… I got it from my mentor. It means a lot to me."
Bral raised an eyebrow, genuine intrigue in his expression. "So you had a mentor?" he asked. "Why didn't you train under his wing instead of living in the wild?"
Amukelo shifted uncomfortably. His gaze flickered to the fire, then back to the ground.
Why had Syltar sent him away? Even now, he wasn't sure.
He remembered the old elves words, the cryptic way he had told Amukelo to leave and survive on his own. He had questioned it before, tried to make sense of it, but in the end, he had simply done what he was told.
But explaining that? That felt impossible. So, instead, he said nothing.
Bral watched him for a moment, then exhaled and nodded. "Ahh, right. Sorry. We don't know each other that well yet. It might be personal."
Amukelo let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. For the first time in a long while, he was among people.