The Promise

"Glen, help me lift this damned pillar!!!"

A young, powerful bull was straining with all his might against a massive wooden beam. He panted violently, sweat streaming down his bare chest, thick vapor pouring from his nostrils, his drenched mane plastered messily across his face.

He was clearly exhausted to the limit, yet he could not relax for even an instant, because a living life rested on his shoulders.

Beneath the beam lay a Tauren covered in dust. His leg was buried deep in the rubble, twisted into a grotesque shape. Jagged bone fragments had pierced through flesh, leaving behind a horrifying wound.

As blood drained from him, so did his life.

"My leg... my leg... Aaargh..."

As Carl moved, the battered Tauren let out a weak cry of pain. At the sound, Carl's heart sank completely.

His beloved wife was a Shaman, so he understood some things.

This was the worst possible moment, and he knew that at times like this, only rekindled hope could save a life from despair.

The Tauren's breathing grew weaker and weaker. Carl racked his brains, trying every possible way to distract him. The young bull desperately tried to think of how to awaken his will to survive.

His gaze drifted involuntarily to that upper leg, and suddenly he felt something that shook his soul.

A shudder ran through him. Almost instinctively, without a moment's thought, Carl roared:

"Don't give up! Your daughter is still waiting for you to come home!!!"

With those thunderous words, the dying Tauren miraculously regained a trace of vitality. Like a drowning man clutching a solid straw, he painfully moved his lips and murmured his daughter's name:

"My daughter... daughter... my daughter... daughter..."

Carl was overjoyed. He hurriedly leaned close to the Tauren's ear and shouted, "That's right! Your daughter is safe now! Don't think about anything else! Think about your daughter! She's still waiting for you to come home safely!"

"Carl!"

At just the right moment, a short roar came from the other side. Glen Runetotem had finally cleared away that damned pile of rubble. They could pull this poor bull out from beneath the ruins at once!

"Excellent!"

Carl let out a deafening roar. He gathered every ounce of strength in his body, his muscles seeming ready to swell and burst. He locked his arms around the enormous beam and heaved upward with all his might.

Bang! Rumble!

A series of loud crashes rang out. Dry stones and dirt blasted dust into the sky as the huge beam was completely lifted aside, then rolled down the rubble. Below, cries of joyful tears immediately erupted.

A crowd of anxious refugees rushed forward, and the scene quickly became chaotic.

"I-I can help! I know a little about herbs!"

"You stupid bull, stop! Don't touch that leg!"

"Listen! If you want to help, find me some branches! Planks will do too! And preferably a small knife..."

Every one of those who came to help was injured. They were not professional healers, but wounded people who had been rescued earlier.

Ignoring their own injuries, these kind people wanted to repay their rescuers by helping save even more lives.

Realizing they were no longer needed here, the two Tauren supported each other as they sat down and finally let out exhausted breaths.

Glen laboriously pulled out a waterskin and waved it at his companion.

It was not that he was deliberately trying to look silent. He was simply too tired to even say the word water.

Carl panted and shook his head. Glen silently bit open the stopper, forced down a few mouthfuls, then poured the rest over both their heads, adding wisps of white steam to the cold early-winter wind.

These two young bulls were Carl Bloodhoof and Glen Runetotem.

When the disaster struck, the two had happened to be patrolling nearby. There were not many invaders, and the two outstanding warriors quickly dealt with them, but they had no way to stop the rapidly spreading flames.

They rescued many trapped people, most of them elderly, children, and those with limited mobility.

When the attack began, these people had not escaped in time. As a result, they became trapped in the ruins, surrounded layer upon layer by blazing fire.

Carl collapsed onto the ground, staring silently at the homes before him, now reduced entirely to rubble. They had searched these ruins over and over, yet no one could guarantee that every survivor had been rescued.

Even so, the survival rate remained painfully high, and it continued to rise as time passed.

By the end, rescuers had become corpse collectors, and finding a survivor had become something to hope for and celebrate.

The father and daughter trapped between the collapsed layers had been found during the final search. If Carl had not insisted on searching once more, they might have been forgotten and quietly died there.

Carl did not dare imagine whether there were still survivors buried beneath this ground, listening to their footsteps. If there were, listening to the two of them leave, how despairing that must have been.

But they had to go. Some of those trapped were in dire condition. Letting these injured people with no fighting ability cross dangerous territory was no different from sending them to their deaths.

Weariness washed over him in waves. Carl truly could not hold on any longer. He intended to close his eyes for three minutes, but before he could fall asleep, something cool touched his forehead.

He slowly opened his eyes and saw a little Tauren girl with a dusty face pressing a small hand against his head.

"Thank you, thank you for saving my father and me..." Tears streaked the little girl's face as she repeatedly thanked the two heroes who had saved her father.

Rubbing her eyes, she timidly said, "Please... please accept this..."

Carl raised his head with a simple smile, forcing a weary grin for her.

The little girl before him looked much younger than Sian, perhaps only five or six. Her small face was covered in dust and bloodstains—most likely her father's.

She had not been seriously injured. Her father had borne the weight of a solid wooden beam and rubble with his back, creating a tiny space for his daughter.

For that, he might pay the price of losing a leg in the near future.

The girl's large eyes shimmered with a beautiful sky-blue color. She looked at Carl with hope, hoping this kind uncle who had saved her would accept her insignificant gift.

It was a small white flower.

Its tiny white petals trembled softly in the breeze, stirring distant memories within Carl.

It was a happy memory. On a hillside blooming with spring, he had gently tucked a similar little flower into the hair of a beautiful woman and made a bold, reckless request.

That woman later became his wife. Soon, they had a child born of their love, a healthy little calf born beneath the morning light. Carrying the blessings of dawn and starlight, the child had led Carl to seek out every elder in the village before he finally found a beautiful name for his beloved son.

It was said that the name came from the light and sound of elves, bearing a wonderful meaning.

Those two beloved people were the finest gifts Earth Mother had given Carl. One had taught him what gentleness was, and the other had taught him what responsibility was.

By Earth Mother, Carl had once sworn that he would devote the rest of his life to the two people he cherished.

"Thank you, kind little girl. Can you tell me your name?"

Carl's eyes flickered. He carefully accepted the flower, then solemnly took a clean white handkerchief from his pocket, wrapped the little flower in it, and gently placed it away.

Once the flower had been accepted, some of the girl's timidity faded, and she became a little happier. Her lovely eyes curved into crescents.

"My name is Selsa, Selsa Windsong!"

"That is a lovely name."

Carl smiled. He stretched out a hand and lightly touched the girl's forehead. Only after seeing that she did not resist did he feel at ease enough to stroke her dirty hair.

He sighed, then softly said, "Little Windsong, may I ask something of you?"

The girl nodded in confusion. She seemed to see a trace of reluctance in the young uncle's eyes.

"Your father... may have to go through a very difficult time. During that time, he may need your encouragement very much."

Carl tried his best to phrase his meaning gently, which only made him seem clumsy and cruel.

But he had to say it. Otherwise, how much courage would a lonely person need to face the loss of part of his body?

Glen, who had been standing nearby like a scarecrow, could not help shaking his head.

Sadness appeared in Little Windsong's eyes at those words, but it was quickly replaced by determination.

"Dad is brave! Dad is strong! Dad is the strongest, strongest, strongest Tauren in the whole world! So everything will be fine."

"I'll pray to Earth Mother every day. She has protected us so kindly, so everything will definitely be fine!"

She suddenly hesitated again, but it was not doubt in her father. It was uncertainty about the unknown future.

Carefully, she said, "But if... if even Earth Mother cannot make Dad better, then I won't blame her. She must have already done everything she could."

"Even then, it will be okay, because Dad still has me. Don't be fooled just because I'm only a little girl. Once I decide on something, I will never, ever give up!"

Carl suddenly felt that he had asked an unbelievably foolish question. He had actually tried to doubt the courage of a father willing to sacrifice a leg for his daughter, and foolishly questioned a kind child's love for her father.

"I'm sorry, little girl. I said some very foolish things just now."

Carl lowered his head slightly. An apologetic smile appeared on his face, filthy with sweat and grime. Combined with his bovine features, it made him look rather honest and a little silly.

Why was he apologizing? Little Windsong tilted her head but could not figure it out. She could not understand this uncle's strange words, so to avoid awkwardness, she gave Carl a broad smile too.

Carl burst into laughter, and the gloom in his heart vanished. He rubbed the little girl's head with his rough palm and said, "What an adorable little girl. Far cuter than that foolish boy from the Bloodhoof family!"

He said with emotion, "I have a boy about your age too. I really should introduce the two of you someday!"

"Though this is not a very good time for that."

Carl said with some regret, "How about this? Next time. We'll do it next time. If everything ends, I'll invite you and your father to visit our home on behalf of my silly son. What do you say?"

"Next warm spring, the grass on the hills will grow back. We can go on an outing together then, enjoy the spring air. I'm sure you'll love the little cookies my wife bakes! They have milk, hazelnuts, pine nuts... Ah, sorry, that's all I remember. But she has the hands of a master! You definitely won't be disappointed!"

As he spoke of his wife and son, a foolishly happy smile appeared on Carl's face.

Little Windsong listened, fascinated. She innocently imagined how delicious those cookies must be, delicious enough to sweep away the exhaustion from this tired, burly man and make him smile so happily.

She had to ask that auntie for advice someday, then make some herself for her father!

It was only a small interlude. They would soon have to say goodbye.

Little Windsong walked away. She had to make preparations with the others before leaving, and there was also her father. That uncle was right—this was when her father needed her most.

Just as she was about to reach the camp, she suddenly realized she seemed to have forgotten something very important.

She had forgotten to ask their names.

"Carl, has anyone ever told you that you're terrible at comforting children?"

Carl was instantly left speechless in embarrassment.

Glen had raised a fatal question. Judging by the way he shook his head smugly, it was obvious just how delighted he was to see his best friend too choked up to speak.

"Ah, poor little Sian, having such a foolish father. He's such a good child too."

Glen sighed theatrically. "Even now, I still can't believe it. I even used my trick of making seeds bloom, yet somehow it was you, this big fool, who won Tally's heart."

From his name alone, one could tell Glen was from the Rune Totem family, but he was a little unusual. He did not like the ways of nature at all. Instead, he was utterly obsessed with close-quarters combat, every punch landing with solid force.

Although his uncle Hamuul said he possessed great magical talent, dislike was dislike. He had reluctantly learned some magic, only to impress girls.

Incidentally, the speed at which he mastered nature magic had left even Hamuul speechless.

Carl stared at his troublesome friend Glen for a long time, unable to think of anything to say. In the end, he could only helplessly shake his head.

"Honestly, your wife is about to give birth, and you're still saying things like this. You're about to become a father. It's time you grew up a little."

The moment Carl said that, Glen drooped like a wilted cabbage.

Seeing him like that, Carl could not help sighing. Of course he knew those foolish words were merely meant to hide his inner anxiety, so he patted his friend on the shoulder.

"I understand your worries. This is a difficult hurdle." Carl smiled and nodded at Glen. "You are already a good husband, but this is about how to become a good father."

"It is a long road, and that road lies buried in the long night. You have no direction, nor do you know how long you have been walking."

"All you can do is keep moving forward. Walk on, and walk on... until one day, when you reach the end of the road and find it brightly lit, the length of the journey will no longer matter. By then, you will have become a good father."

Carl gradually fell silent. He did not know why he had suddenly wanted to say those things. Since the disaster began, his heart seemed especially unsettled.

Glen looked at his friend and suddenly felt as if he no longer recognized him.

"And you, my brother? What kind of father are you?"

Glen asked the question as if possessed. He did not know why he had asked it.

Perhaps it was because little Guff, not yet born, was urging him on. His son truly was an incredible little calf, already pushing him to become a good father while still inside his mother's belly.

What? You say the name Guff Runetotem sounded like a bull, but what if his wife gave birth to a daughter?

Impossible! Glen Runetotem's first child would definitely be a healthy little bull!

"Actually, I don't know either, because I'm also walking along this dark road."

Carl sighed. "Perhaps one day, I'll be able to give you an answer... I have a feeling that day is not far away."

Noticing something strange in his companion, Glen suddenly stopped. He fell silent for a moment, then slowly raised his head and said in an unquestionable tone:

"I see... Then when that time comes, you must tell me the answer. You must!"

"I will!"

Carl found Glen's unusual behavior strange, but before he could think further, their brief rest was interrupted by a sudden explosion.

An explosion erupted in the distance. Carl was the first to rise, yet it was not the explosion that caught his attention.

A crimson ocean covered the entire sky, as if an invisible wall stretched all the way to the end of the world.

That oppressive color and overwhelming sight stirred ominous forebodings in Glen's mind.

"Am I dreaming? What the hell is that thing?!"

Glen cried out. That wall stretched deep into the boundless night sky, like a bottomless pot descending over the whole world, and a terrifying sense of pressure enveloped him.

At the same time, he felt boundless fury coming from behind him.

Glen turned around in alarm and found that terrible anger seemed to have taken physical form. Suppressed rage swirled invisibly around the warrior's body, tinged with faint blood-red hues, like a furious dragon roaring to tear his enemies apart!

"Glen, my good brother, listen carefully to what I'm about to ask of you."

Carl's voice was ice-cold, carrying an unyielding resolve that allowed no argument.

Glen immediately understood what was about to happen. He did not know what that strange barrier had to do with Carl, but he understood how a Tauren could be provoked.

That foolish bastard had dared hurt Lady Tally and little Sian! He had actually tried to take away the most precious things belonging to an enraged bull!

He had no idea! When a Tauren warrior was angered to this extent, what a terrible price would the enemy who provoked him have to pay!

"Say no more. Little Windsong and everyone here are in my hands! I'll get them somewhere safe!"

Glen accepted the burden. His worry and anger were no less than Carl's. He wanted to fight beside his friend, and retreating here was humiliating and powerless...

But there was still a responsibility here that could not be abandoned.

So he had to do this. For Carl, Tally, and little Sian, it was the best choice—to free this true warrior of all worries behind him.

Carl nodded and quietly thanked him.

"How embarrassing. You're going off to do what a man must do, something you must do alone, while I can only watch."

Glen waved a hand and scratched his head in shame. "No wonder she always said you were someone who liked being alone. I probably will never learn that."

Carl nodded lightly, then shook his head.

Glen sighed. "Then there is no need for more words, my brother. Whether you want to kill someone or save someone, go do it without holding back!"

"Lastly, let this be my punishment for fleeing before battle. I'll remember our promise..."

Glen Runetotem solemnly thumped Carl Bloodhoof on the chest and said firmly, "I'm still waiting for your answer!"

Glen left without hesitation, carrying the heavy task entrusted by his dear friend as he silently prayed to Earth Mother for the sincerest blessing.

Live, Carl. If this long night can end, we must have a proper drink together. We'll get dead drunk until dawn, and then I'll spend an entire day listening to you boast about what a qualified father you are.

This was a promise between two fathers.