The blood seeped from El Ritch's wounds, chilling him further in the frosted grip of the Hornet forest. No matter how tightly he curled into himself, clutching his injuries, the cold refused to leave, as did the fear.
Every rustle of trees, every sway of the shrubs, sent shivers down his spine. He flicked his gaze in every direction, his breaths quick and shallow, certain that something was lurking just beyond his sight.
It's not there, he told himself. It's just my imagination.
But his imagination wasn't wrong.
The beast had found him.
It emerged through the thicket, sniffing the air, its malformed body moving with unnatural grace. Its screech, shrill and echoing, tore through the silence. Blood mixed with drool as it dripped from its maw, staining the white of its fur.
El Ritch's heart raced as panic surged through him.
He gripped the chipped, rugged blade in his trembling hands, his body hunched and his wounded leg dragging behind him. His vision in his left eye blurred, the blood from the cut trickling relentlessly down his face.
Behind him, the hollow tree offered no escape. He was cornered.
He wanted to run.
He had to run.
But his body refused to move.
The beast lunged at him, and he froze, his mind screaming as he resigned himself to fate.
That's when he heard it—a sharp snap of fingers.
His eyes shot open, confusion overtaking his fear.
He wasn't where he had been a moment ago. The beast now stood where he had been, and El Ritch lay sprawled on his back, disoriented and gasping. His body had been shifted, out of harm's way.
The beast, too, was confused, its head twitching wildly as it spun to attack again.
Snap.
El Ritch found himself moved once more, now adjacent to the creature. Before he could comprehend what was happening, another figure appeared—a boy, no older than himself, but with the voice and stature of a grown man, standing in the place where he was standing previously.
The boy's fist drove straight through the beast's mouth with an unnatural force, silencing its screech mid-sound. Blood sprayed as the creature's head jolted back, collapsing onto the ground in a heap of twitching fur and muscle.
"You thought I'd just let my kill go?" the boy said, looking down at the beast, his tone casual yet sharp.
El Ritch stared at the boy, his breath caught in his throat. He had no doubt the figure before him was his age, yet the sheer presence the boy carried was overwhelming. His build, his voice, and his precise movements all felt far removed from the other children El Ritch had encountered.
The boy turned to him, his gaze piercing.
"Are you a fool?"
El Ritch's lips parted, but no words came out. His body trembled, and the chipped blade fell from his hand, clattering softly against the ground.
The boy cocked his head, crouching down to meet El Ritch's eye. His expression was a mixture of amusement and incredulity.
"I asked, are you a fool?" He gestured toward El Ritch's chipped blade, now lying discarded on the ground. "If you have a weapon, why not use it? It's sheer foolishness to hold back when faced with something like that, even if you want to savor other's kill, it is commendable but again- utter foolishness."
El Ritch blinked, his breaths shallow and erratic, trying to understand the boy's words. "I was just trying to run away," he managed to say between gasps.
The boy's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the surrounding forest. "Another beast? Where? If it hurt someone like you, it must be stronger than this one! Tell me where it is! Hurry! A bigger hunt!"
El Ritch shook his head, confused by the boy's intensity. "No… this was the beast I was running from."
The boy froze, his expression shifting into something unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing.
Then his lips twitched.
"Are you trying to hide your hunt?" he said, suspicion lacing his voice. "That won't fool me."
"No, seriously," El Ritch insisted.
"...Seriously?"
El Ritch nodded, and the boy's lips finally broke into a wide grin.
It started as a chuckle, but within seconds, he was laughing so hard he fell onto his back, clutching his sides. The sound was strange, almost like a pig squealing, and it echoed unnervingly in the stillness of the forest.
"How did you even get harmed from something like this?" he said between gasps, his laughter growing louder. "Oh, Bada will die laughing when I tell her about this. Oh my…" He took a deep breath, his laughter subsiding into occasional snickers.
He shrugged, sitting up again. "Won't you treat yourself?"
"I… I didn't bring any medicine," El Ritch admitted, his voice small, now he was embarrassed.
The boy let out another burst of laughter, this one sharp and short. "You're just—oh, you're really something else." Shaking his head, he pulled a wooden box from behind him and opened it, revealing a cream-ish green ointment. "Here. Apply this. It's snake-hide ointment. Unless you're allergic to snake hide and venom, you'll be fine."
El Ritch hesitated, but the boy thrust the box into his hands with an expectant look. Finally, El Ritch scooped up a generous amount.
"Not that much!" the boy scolded, slapping El Ritch's hand lightly and taking the box back. "How are you even in this exam without knowing basic stuff like this?"
Before El Ritch could answer, the boy took over, scraping away the excess ointment and applying it deftly to the wound on El Ritch's face. The cool balm stung at first but quickly numbed the pain.
El Ritch's heart raced as he realized his left eye wasn't lost. It had been a flesh wound—he could barely open the eye, but he could see. Relief flooded through him.
"Your leg's hurt too," the boy said matter-of-factly. "Apply the ointment there as well."
El Ritch followed his instruction carefully this time, using just enough to cover the torn flesh. The bleeding stopped, and the pain dulled to a manageable throb. Slowly, he stood, testing his weight. His leg held firm.
"I don't know how to thank you enough," El Ritch said, his voice filled with gratitude. The boy's sudden appearance had pulled him from the brink of despair, and it felt like a blessing.
"Being grateful comes later," the boy replied, waving him off. "Whoever taught you to fight like this needs to be knocked on the head. Have you ever fought a beast before?"
El Ritch sat quietly, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the encounter. It wasn't entirely Julian's fault, he thought to himself. He had been taught everything he needed to know. But the moment reality struck, he froze, forgetting all the theory he'd worked so hard to memorize.
"It's my fault," El Ritch admitted aloud, his voice low. "I was taught. I just… froze."
Jol, still crouched beside him, rolled his eyes dramatically. "You're never going to get better with that people-pleasing mindset. It is your trainer's fault that you froze, not the other way around." He paused, then tilted his head curiously. "Uhh… what was your name again?"
"El Ritch," he replied. "My name is El Ritch."
"Sweet name," Jol said with a grin, rising to his feet. "Myself? Jol."
"J-Ja-ahl?" El Ritch stammered, unsure how to pronounce it.
"No," Jol said, his grin widening. "Uh… like 'jaw,' as in the thing on your face, and then 'all.' Together: Jol."
"Jo-ohl… Jol," El Ritch repeated slowly, trying to mimic the pronunciation.
"You got it!" Jol clapped his hands lightly, nodding. "Smart."
Then Jol's gaze shifted, a spark of recognition lighting up his face. "Wait a minute… ah, I see now. You're the man joining the horned men's tournament, huh? Makes sense why you're struggling." He chuckled, plopping down beside El Ritch with an easy confidence.
"Sit," Jol said, gesturing to the ground beside him. "The destination is still too far to reach in a single day. We'll need at least two days just to get halfway there. Bada—my friend—she will be joining us soon, too."
"Am I really allowed—" El Ritch began hesitantly.
Jol cut him off with a wave of his hand. "You really have to stop with this whole asking-for-permission thing." He leaned forward, his expression firm. "When I say you'll stay with us, I mean you will. You're not free to go wandering off. Now sit!"
The sharpness in Jol's voice startled El Ritch, and he obeyed without a second thought, sinking down beside him.
As Jol leaned back against a tree, El Ritch's tension began to ebb. The boy's casual confidence was infectious, and for the first time since entering the forest, El Ritch felt a flicker of safety.