The Unforgettable Burned by Raging Fire

"Of course it's me," Hermes said. "Don't you think you should thank me properly?"

"But you still haven't told me the truth." Fatenai calmed down slightly before continuing, her voice still laced with anger—knowing her summoner had intentionally deployed a Magic Potion and nearly caused her death was not something she could be happy about, no matter how much time passed. "Why did you use a frenzy-inducing Magic Potion on the wild boar?"

"Oh my, doesn't Miss think the weather is lovely today? Why not stroll around with me?" Hermes smiled.

He clearly had no intention of telling the truth.

Fatenai took a deep breath to steady her emotions before rising to leave the small hillside. She patted the hound on the head—the creature didn't seem to have recovered from the shock yet. "Never mind... let's go."

The latter half of the sentence was, of course, directed at the hound.

The little hound didn't run with its usual vigor, walking ahead in a listless manner. Fatenai didn't want to look at Hermes, and Hermes remained motionless in the tree.

The boy watched Fatenai walk away, his expression unreadable as the leaves obscured the light on his face.

Following the hound, Fatenai finally returned to the cabin, now stained by the colors of the setting sun. To her surprise, Wickel was already standing in front of the cabin. He looked as if he were preparing to head out again, but he stopped upon seeing Fatenai. He tensed for a moment, then seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

Others might not have caught such an expression, but Fatenai was used to such things.

"Where did you go?" Wickel asked.

This level of concern was rare for a Forest Hunter, yet Fatenai was in a foul mood. "And what about you, Mr. Wickel? Is it your habit to leave your companions behind in the forest?"

"You shouldn't have followed." Wickel clearly realized what Fatenai had done later. He frowned, his arms crossed, his tone stern.

"But didn't we agree to investigate together?" Fatenai had encountered people who exerted far more pressure than this, and she wasn't the least bit intimidated by Wickel, especially since she knew he was actually kind-hearted. She spoke recklessly, "If you looked down on me from the start, why didn't you just refuse me?"

Wickel was speechless. He stood there staring at Fatenai, seemingly wanting her to stop talking.

But Fatenai didn't feel the need to give up on finding answers. "Wickel, do you not even have an explanation? I thought you were someone who valued his word."

Reasoning with Fatenai was simply impossible—though she had tried her best to maintain her silence and reserve back in the Wisdom Family.

And Fatenai was right; Wickel seemed sensitive to the phrase "valuing one's word." He showed a hint of hesitation but quickly chose to remain silent, and the two fell into a tense, silent standoff.

After a long while, Fatenai saw that Wickel's expression hadn't softened, and she couldn't help but feel a headache coming on. The pros and cons of dealing with such a person were obvious—but she had never encountered anyone like this before, so she felt powerless.

"You should go back, Miss Wisdom." After another while, as darkness approached, Wickel finally spoke, though it was not what Fatenai wanted to hear. "You are too weak; the forest is not for you."

"How many days have I even been in the forest? Of course it's not for me yet." Fatenai couldn't help but argue with Wickel about it. "Were you born knowing how to slay prey? Could you be a qualified hunter from the moment you were born?"

Wickel paused, yet he stubbornly persisted. "But you aren't suited to live here..."

"That isn't something you need to worry about... fine, I know I'm a lot of trouble." Fatenai glanced indifferently at the darkening sky. "Let's leave it at that. I'll leave tomorrow."

With that, she walked toward the cabin, unwilling to argue any further about her stay.

She truly felt that staying with Wickel would make her life much easier, but she could also feel that difference that made her sad.

Wickel didn't speak, remaining where he was with his arms crossed. However, the light in his eyes dimmed significantly, not out of regret, but as if he were missing some long-lost emotion.

Flames swept through the town.

It was a scene he had "experienced" countless times. Even though he had been panicked and terrified in the past, he had repeated this scene in his dreams every single day. Over time, he had become able to watch it all with surprising peace, even slowly observing the faces of every person within the slowed-down frames.

Similar fear, confusion, and anger—even if they had argued or felt differently in the past, they were all the same now.

A startling similarity appeared at the moment it should have least.

He walked forward step by step, searching for the figure most familiar to him. Finally, he found "him" in a corner—a little boy standing in the flames, bewildered and helpless, clutching an iron sword. The sword was useless, and his enemies were, arguably, invincible. He looked up at the pattern formed by the flames in the sky.

It was a dragon—a dragon that no one could kill.

The current him was no longer afraid of that dragon, yet when he turned to look at his younger, pale-faced self, that version of him seemed ridiculous, with his sagging armor and a decorative sword that hadn't even been sharpened.

These scenes were the same every day. Even if they were profound, they no longer gave him fresh insights. Instead, they reminded him of someone else in his dreams: a girl with extraordinary platinum hair and ordinary-colored eyes that were actually full of perseverance. Even after being denied countless times... she still held that ridiculous iron sword and swung it with ridiculous sword techniques.

Yet, it was true that no one was born a hunter, nor a born sage.

Bang!

Wickel woke up with a start. He heard a commotion, rolled over, and shoved the wooden door open—only to see chaos outside the cabin.

Toppled wooden racks, barking hounds, the clatter of weapons... Wickel's gaze finally landed straight ahead. A teenage girl was struggling in the grip of a knight clad in silver armor, her expression one of utter mockery—this was the first time Wickel had seen such a look on her.

Before, even in her most panicked moments, there had been an undeniable pride in her eyes, a temperament that had convinced him at first glance that she was a noble.

But now, there was only fear and despair in her eyes—it seemed she was about to be taken away by these knights.

He suddenly felt a pain in his chest.

"What do you think you're doing?" Wickel said slowly.

"I am not Miss Wisdom! Didn't your lord tell you I'm an impostor?!" Fatenai said—she was anxious, for she had seen the Black Sparrow crest on the knights' armor.

She had thought someone might come looking for her, but she hadn't expected Duke Wisdom to dispatch knights. These men, who only served a few dozen days a year, rarely left their own territory, let alone traveled to the Eisole Forest, which was quite far from the Duke's lands. For a moment, Fatenai wondered if Duke Wisdom had lost his mind.

"But you do have a face just like hers." The lead knight held a lance in one hand and gripped Fatenai's arm with the other. "Even if you are an impostor, you're still a runaway."

"The King promised he would settle me in!" Fatenai protested.

"His order is for us to bring you back, regardless of whether you're an impostor or not," the knight replied.

Fatenai didn't want to argue with the knight anymore; for the first time, she felt that eloquence was useless—and her desperate struggling was equally futile.

She didn't believe Wickel would save her either; they had argued just yesterday, and he had been eager for her to leave.

"Let go of me!"

"That is impossible, Miss."

"Let go!"

"Take her away..."

"Enough." Wickel interrupted them.

Only then did the knights notice Wickel. Knights were nobles, too; though their titles might not be high, they often looked down on commoners. Regardless of who he was—especially a Forest Hunter—they lacked understanding of such people, and to them, a Forest Hunter was even lower than a bumpkin.

"This has nothing to do with you. We are acting on the orders of Duke Wisdom and the King. We apologize for any damage caused..." the lead knight said. Though it was an apology, his tone was full of disdain for Wickel. Furthermore, to them, Duke Wisdom was more important than the King, though that wasn't the point.

Wickel glanced at them and walked forward under the gaze of the fully armed knights. The knights, who didn't bother to defend themselves, clearly looked down on Wickel's status. They watched as he walked up to one of the knights. "Let her go. She doesn't want to go back."

"What are you saying..." the knight beside him couldn't help but sneer. However, he was shocked to see Wickel's hand grip the knight's lance, and then, piece by piece, crush the weapon into dust!

Even Fatenai stared in disbelief. She had thought Wickel was just slightly stronger than the average person, but this was clearly monster-level strength.

"My name is Wickel Auston. Go back and tell your lord that. And, let her go," Wickel said. "Neither the forest nor I would mind a few more corpses in these woods."