The girl stared at Rayden, her fear palpable. She was small and thin, her clothes tattered and dirty, evidence of a hard life. Her eyes, though wide with terror, held a spark of resilience, a refusal to be completely broken. Rayden, in his detached way, found this… noteworthy. Most people would have crumbled under his gaze, under the weight of what she had just witnessed.
"What is your name?" Rayden asked, his voice still devoid of any warmth or inflection.
The girl hesitated, then whispered, "Elara."
"Elara," Rayden repeated, the name feeling foreign on his tongue. He wasn't used to addressing people by name. They were usually just data points, targets, or obstacles. "Why are you here?"
Elara swallowed, her throat visibly bobbing. "I… I was with them. The bandits. They… they took me from my village. A few weeks ago."
Rayden processed this information. A captive. A slave, most likely. The bandits had probably intended to sell her, or worse. He felt a flicker of… something. Not sympathy, not exactly. Perhaps a faint echo of his own past, a recognition of the arbitrary cruelty of the world.
"And now?" he asked, the question more for himself than for her.
Elara looked at the bodies of the bandits, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and… relief? It was difficult for Rayden to decipher human emotions. He was still learning.
"I… I don't know," she whispered. "I have nowhere to go."
Rayden considered his options. He could kill her. It would be the simplest solution. No loose ends. No complications. But… he hesitated. He had already decided against it, on some subconscious level. He wasn't sure why.
He could abandon her. Leave her to fend for herself. She would likely die, but that wasn't his concern. He had more important things to focus on. But… that felt… inefficient. A waste of potential. Even a weak, frightened girl might have some use.
He could take her with him. A burden, certainly. A distraction. But… perhaps also a tool. He could use her as bait, as a shield, as a… test subject. He could learn more about human interaction, about the complexities of emotions. He could even… *train* her.
The last option was the most… intriguing.
"You will come with me," he said, the decision made. It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.
Elara stared at him, her eyes wide. She didn't protest. She didn't argue. She simply nodded, a silent acceptance of her new fate.
Rayden turned and started walking, heading deeper into the woods. He didn't look back. He assumed Elara would follow. If she didn't, it was her loss.
Elara did follow. She stumbled at first, her legs weak and shaky. But she quickly found her footing, her pace matching Rayden's. She kept a safe distance, several paces behind him, her eyes fixed on his back. She was afraid, but she was also… determined. She had survived this far. She would survive this, too.
They walked in silence for several hours. Rayden set a brisk pace, ignoring Elara's fatigue. He was focused on his destination. The map he had taken from the bandit leader showed a crossroads a few miles to the east. One path led to the capital city of Astrea, Aethelgard. Another led to the port city of Maris. The third led to the dwarven city of Grimstone, nestled in the mountains to the north.
He hadn't decided which path to take. He needed more information. He needed to assess the risks and rewards of each option.
As the sun began to set, they reached the crossroads. It was a desolate place, marked by a weathered stone signpost, its inscriptions barely legible. The wind whistled through the tall grass, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.
Rayden stopped. He looked at Elara, who was huddled on the ground, shivering in the evening chill. She looked exhausted, hungry, and utterly lost.
He sighed, a rare display of… something… that might have been annoyance. He had forgotten about her basic needs. He had been so focused on his own plans that he had neglected to consider her limitations.
He opened his bag and took out some of the dried meat he had salvaged from the wolf. He tossed a piece to Elara.
"Eat," he said.
Elara caught the meat, her hands trembling. She looked at it, then at Rayden, her eyes questioning.
"It's safe," Rayden said, anticipating her unspoken concern. "I wouldn't waste resources on poisoned food."
Elara nodded and began to eat, slowly at first, then with increasing eagerness. She hadn't eaten a proper meal in days.
Rayden ate his own portion of the meat, his mind already racing, analyzing, calculating. He needed to find shelter for the night. He needed to gather more information about the surrounding area. He needed to decide on his next course of action.
He looked at Elara, who was now finishing her meal. She looked… slightly better. Less fragile. Less likely to die from exhaustion.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we will go to Maris."
Elara looked up at him, surprised. "Why Maris?" she asked.
Rayden considered his answer. He could have told her about his strategic calculations, about the potential opportunities offered by a port city, about the information he hoped to gather. But he decided on a simpler explanation.
"It's the closest," he said.
It wasn't the whole truth, but it was close enough. He didn't want to reveal too much to her. Not yet.
He found a sheltered spot beneath a large, overhanging rock. It wasn't ideal, but it would provide some protection from the elements. He gathered some dry leaves and branches and started a small fire, using a flint and steel he had taken from the bandits.
Elara watched him, her eyes following his every move. She was still afraid, but she was also… curious. She had never seen anyone like him. He was so… cold, so… efficient. So unlike anyone she had ever known.
As the fire crackled and the shadows danced around them, Elara gathered the courage to ask another question.
"Why… why did you save me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rayden looked at her, his eyes unreadable in the firelight. He considered his answer carefully. He could have lied. He could have told her that he was a kind, compassionate person. But that would have been… dishonest. And inefficient.
"I didn't save you," he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "I simply… repurposed you."
Elara stared at him, confused. "Repurposed?"
Rayden nodded. "You were a useless resource. Now… you have potential. I will… cultivate that potential."
Elara didn't understand. But she understood one thing. She was no longer a captive of the bandits. She was now… something else. Something belonging to this strange, cold boy. She wasn't sure if it was better or worse. But she knew one thing for certain. Her life had changed forever.
Rayden, meanwhile, was already looking past her, his mind focused on the future. Maris was just the first step. He had a long journey ahead of him. A journey of growth, of power, of… consumption. He would become stronger. He would uncover the secrets of the Devour System. He would achieve his goals. Whatever they may be.
He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the fire wash over him. He didn't sleep. He simply… waited. He was a predator, patiently stalking his prey. And the world was his hunting ground. He could feel the pull of the System, the constant hunger that drove him forward. He had a purpose, a direction and a sense of a drive to achieve. That was more than he had ever hoped to have back in his world. This was the start, and he was going to make the most of it.