Red Flame fled into the dense forest, his breath ragged as he weaved through the trees. Shadows stretched long in the moonlight, casting an eerie ambiance over the labyrinth of branches and foliage. He clung to the hope that the dense woods would mask his presence and allow him to evade the boy who had single-handedly dismantled his team.
There was no guilt in his mind about leaving White Flame behind. As the mission leader, Red Flame deemed it logical and necessary—subordinates existed to ensure the survival of their commander.
"That boy... what is he?"
Red Flame gritted his teeth, his mind replaying the nightmare of the battle.
The Flare's Hand, the ultimate weapon of the Temple of Fire, had faced countless enemies deemed threats to the divine order. They had always prevailed, each mission executed with ruthless efficiency. Yet now, they were routed, two of their number dead, and he, the once-proud commander, was running like a common thief.
(He withstood my flames…)
Red Flame clenched his fists, feeling the heat of his own shame rise in his chest.
The boy, Hanachiru Uta, was unlike any foe he had ever faced. He had brushed off Red Flame's hellfire, defied Green Flame's spatial manipulations, and rendered White Flame's suppression ability useless. Each feat alone was unthinkable. Together, they were monstrous.
(He must be eliminated… I must warn the high priest.)
Uta wasn't merely a nuisance. He was an anomaly, a threat surpassing even the Demon Lords of old.
"Who are you planning to warn?"
The voice, calm and cheerful, echoed through the forest.
Red Flame skidded to a halt, his blood running cold.
Sitting casually on a tree stump ahead, like he had all the time in the world, was Uta. He smiled, swinging his legs like a child.
"Impossible…"
Red Flame's heart pounded. He had zigzagged through the forest, using every trick to shake pursuit. Yet the boy had appeared before him as if plucked from thin air.
"You've killed too much, you know," Uta said with a soft smile. "That village... it was unforgivable."
Red Flame's jaw tightened.
"You reek of death," Uta continued, hopping off the stump. "It clings to you like a second skin. I could track you from ten kilometers away."
"Death... reeks?"
Red Flame whispered, unconsciously sniffing the air. He knew the smell of ash and smoke from the burning village had lingered, but the idea of it marking him for pursuit was absurd.
"Are you here to kill me, boy?" Red Flame growled, straightening his back.
Uta tilted his head, his smile never wavering. "Of course. You're the reason I didn't get my beef stew."
"…Beef stew?"
The absurdity of the statement left Red Flame momentarily speechless. Could this boy, who had reduced his companions to dust, truly be fighting over something so trivial?
"Name your price," Red Flame said quickly, his mind racing. "I'll take you to the Holy City of Flareburg, where the finest restaurant on the continent resides. There, you can eat all the beef stew you desire."
"Really?" Uta's eyes sparkled, his hunger momentarily overriding all else.
Red Flame saw the opening and seized it, forcing a smile onto his lips. "Yes, Flareburg. With your teleportation magic, we can be there in three days. It's a feast fit for kings."
"Three days, huh…"
Uta's smile faded as quickly as it had appeared.
"Yeah, no thanks."
"What?"
"I wanted beef stew tonight," Uta replied, his voice icy. "Three days is too long."
Before Red Flame could process the rejection, Uta teleported right before him, pressing a hand against his chest.
"Wait—!"
The plea died on Red Flame's lips as his body dissolved into fine dust, scattered on the night breeze.
A Hunger Unfulfilled
Standing amidst the falling ashes, Uta sighed, patting his stomach.
"I was really looking forward to that stew…"
His stomach growled loudly in protest.
"Guess I'll have to find something else."
With a shrug, he teleported back toward the ruins of the village, leaving the forest in silence once more.