Ronan anxiously raised his head, but the wall of fire stood taller than a man, and without enough distance for a running start, there was no way he could jump over it.
He heard the agonizing cries of the demon in mid-air, and just as suddenly as the fire wall had appeared, it extinguished. From the crowd emerged a man in a gray robe, hooded in red.
Ronan stared at him, but the man didn't even glance his way. Instead, he walked over to Kael's corpse, bent down to inspect it, and said in an indifferent tone, "A Strutarians."
"This Strutarians was tough," someone in the crowd growled in frustration, "He killed quite a few of our brothers."
"The Strutarians's legs are quite valuable," said a man in a leather chestplate, hefting a large blade as he approached casually, "Cut them off and take them back."
"Woof! Woof woof!" Ronan was both shocked by the brutal death of his companion and horrified by what he had just heard—these people had no intention of leaving the body alone.
He bared his teeth, adopting a defensive stance.
"Oh, and there's still this damned demon dog!" one of the warriors swung a spear viciously in his direction.
Ronan reacted quickly, dragging his injured body as he turned around and clamped down on the spear with his jaws.
The man tried to yank the spear away, but Ronan refused to let go. The man and the dog were now locked in a silent struggle.
The mercenaries standing around, wanting to take out their frustration, didn't kill Ronan right away. Instead, they began beating him with spears and clubs.
One of Ronan's hind legs snapped, and his body collapsed onto the ground, yet he still held on to the spear with his teeth. Furious, the man raised Ronan and slammed him repeatedly against the ground.
Blood oozed from Ronan's nose and mouth as his consciousness began to fade. He could hear the disdainful chatter of the humans around him.
"This demon dog must have belonged to that Strutarians."
"Skin it alive!"
"Don't let it die too quickly!"
"Damn demons, how dare they ambush us."
The words were filled with hatred, and Ronan felt dazed. He couldn't understand why any of this was happening. Why were these humans treating the demons this way? Why had his companion who is very lively just moments ago now died in such a tragic death? And why were these murderers—no, these demon-killers—speaking as if they were the victims?
Kael had said it was the humans who had intruded into the demons' homeland and caused destruction. As Ronan was beaten between blows, he opened his eyes, peering through gaps in the crowd. In the distance, he saw his first friend in this strange new world lying motionless.
Ronan had seen mountains of corpses, witnessed dragons, and walked through streams of blood, yet his thoughts and consciousness had always felt wrapped in a thin, transparent film. But now, with spears raining down from above and pain surging through every part of his body, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the corpse of the yellow-haired demon. For the first time, he felt a real connection to this world.
"Whimper..." Ronan let out one final cry, knowing he couldn't escape. He gave up resisting and couldn't help but find it ironic. Would he even be lucky enough to reincarnate again?
"Enough." Just as the mercenaries raised their swords to cut off the demon dog's head, the robed man returned. He pulled back his hood and cast a casual glance at Ronan. "At least this dog is loyal. Let it go."
"But..." someone in the crowd protested, "Mr. Troia, it's a demon!"
"It's just a small and insignificant demon," the gray-robed man said coldly. "And it's so badly injured—it probably won't survive even if you let it go."
There was a hierarchy within the mercenary group, and since the mage had insisted, the warriors had no choice but to hold their tongues.
Ronan struggled to stand up, although both of his hind legs had been broken, he use the last of his strength to keep himself awake.
"Go." The gray-robed man glanced down at him briefly. "I don't know how much intelligence you've gained, but listen. If you want to keep living, then leave here on your own."
Ronan stared at the side of the gray-robed man's face for a few seconds, as if trying to remember him. Then, he dragged his numb lower body, using his front legs to claw forward, painstakingly crawling back into the darkness.
Kael was dead, and Ronan had nowhere to go.
His companion had been killed by humans, and yet one of those very humans had saved him. That man wasn't wrong—Ronan was so gravely injured that even being set free wasn't likely to save him. After crawling only a hundred meters from the human camp, Ronan had already lost his strength.
His wounds had not been treated at all, and as he dragged himself along, the torn flesh mixed with dirt and dried branches. He no longer felt pain, probably because his body had become numb.
He wanted to look back at the human camp one last time, but he couldn't lift his head. Slowly, he couldn't even keep his eyes open. The loss of blood left him feeling cold, bone-chillingly cold.
As his final bit of consciousness faded, Ronan slipped into unconsciousness.
When he woke again, the first thing he heard was the sound of birds chirping. His ears twitched, and he slowly opened his eyes.
Still alive... Resting in place to gather some strength, Ronan managed to lift his upper body.
He was still in the body of a demon dog...
As he thought of this, he struggled to turn his head.
The trees surrounding the human camp had been cut down. The once-campsite, where tents had been pitched, was now in disarray, with the central flagpole removed. Kael's body...
Dragging his still-numb lower half, Ronan crawled back.