BERTHOLD POV...
"We are almost surrounded!"
I swear, in that mont, my heart didn’t just skip a beat—it attempted a full-blown escape from my ribcage. My brother and I stood there like statues carved from pure disbelief, even though every primitive instinct inside had been screeching, Run. Run now. Don’t look back.
And yet, absurdly, almost mockingly, the world around us still felt drenched in a lazy sort of calm. Several of the cursed children were still scattered about, minding their embarrassingly private business as if we weren’t teetering on the razor’s edge of annihilation.
"A pack of vicious wolves has almost closed in on us! Earlier I noticed their tracks," I said, injecting just the right amount of urgency into my voice—careful, deliberate, controlled. I had to sound alard, but not suspicious. Panicked, but not inford beyond reason.
Reiner nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. If what I was saying was true—and it absolutely was—then we weren’t rely in danger. We were seconds away from becoming prey in a very real, very bloody food chain. Worse still, ti was slipping through our fingers like cursed sand.
Even though so of the others were still preoccupied, Reiner had no choice. He couldn’t exactly scream, "We’re all about to die!"
So instead, he closed his eyes. I knew that look. He was reaching inward—consulting that demonic voice coiled within his mind like so ancient whispering oracle. He was asuring distance. Calculating death.
When his eyes snapped open again, there was no doubt left in them. The wolves were closer than comfort allowed—closer than safety permitted. He began flashing subtle hand signals, ones we had morized long ago. Silent. Sharp. Efficient. The kind that ant danger without announcing it to the world.
Our chosen escorts stiffened almost instantly. At first, they had dismissed the prickling sensation crawling up their spines as the usual discomfort of being exposed outside the walls. But then they saw the signals. And the truth hit them like a blade of ice.
They moved.
Gods, they moved beautifully.
Whispers passed from ear to ear like forbidden secrets. Feet shifted, bodies aligned, retreat began—swift and quiet, like shadows slipping through cracks. It was so seamless it almost made proud.
Almost.
Because not everyone noticed.
So of the cursed children sensed sothing was wrong—so shift in the air, so disturbance in the rhythm of things—and they followed instinctively. But others? Oblivious. Laughing. Wandering. Blind to the storm already breathing down their necks.
And I rember thinking, with a bitter sort of clarity: sotis, when danger cos, survival isn’t about being the strongest. It’s about running faster than the slowest.
"Let’s go!" Reiner barked once he confird most of our alliance had created enough distance.
The three of us bolted, not recklessly, but with controlled urgency. I half-activated my movent ability—not enough to draw attention, just enough to tilt fate slightly in my favor.
"Surprisingly, Ragna, you’re good at scouting," Reiner said between strides, genuine surprise threading through his voice.
.
.
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RAGNA POV...
If only he knew.
Even with his demonic voice granting him near-omniscient awareness among the others, his warning had co later than mine. At first, he had doubted —I could see it in his eyes.
Still... I noticed it.
A flicker of suspicion.
A quiet recalibration.
Perhaps he wondered if I, too, carried sothing hidden within .
The alliance maintained discipline as we retreated—no screaming, no chaos. Just organized withdrawal. But the others? They weren’t fools. They weren’t normal children plucked from comfort. They were cursed children, carved by harshness. They saw the pattern. They joined the movent.
And then—
A gunshot split the air.
The sound didn’t just echo; it shattered the atmosphere. It reverberated through bone and sand alike, stunning everyone into stillness.
"All children are to retreat back to the horse carriages now!"
A black steel knight stood atop one of the carriages like a dark on incarnate. His voice carried unnaturally, vibrating against my ears with a numbing weight that made my skin prickle.
Panic erupted.
A group resting on the golden sand scattered like disturbed hornets, swarming toward the carriages in a frenzy of limbs and dust.
"No need for hiding anymore! Let’s run!" Reiner shouted.
I didn’t hesitate.
[Would you like to activate the cursed Walker?]
The system’s prompt flickered before like temptation itself.
Behind , Berthold gripped his twin short swords so tightly his knuckles blanched. His pupils bled into crimson, and the blades followed suit, glowing with a deep, murderous hue.
[Stealth of cursed one has been activated.]
By now, our alliance mbers had gained considerable distance—so of the fastest had already reached the carriages. Hope flickered in my chest.
Then the sky scread.
A long, blood-curdling howl tore through the air, so violent and primal that the atmosphere itself seed to tremble beneath it. My blood ran cold. The sound multiplied, overlapping, surrounding us from every direction.
The wolves weren’t hiding anymore.
They were announcing themselves.
If their ambush had failed, then they would simply crush us head-on.
The sand began to rustle.
No—erupt.
Black shapes burst forward one after another, charging at speeds that made the world blur. They were monstrous—two, maybe three ters tall, coated in russet-dark fur that shimred like oil beneath the sun. Their eyes... gods, their eyes weren’t empty. They held sothing sharp. Sothing calculating.
Intelligence.
Their movent whipped the golden sand into violent spirals, turning the ground behind them into a roaring sandstorm.
"Vicious wolves!" soone scread behind , his voice cracking into hysteria.
He ran as if death itself had snapped at his heels.
Monts later, a massive swell of sand surged upward behind him—a rising wall, a sand tsunami driven by monstrous speed. He pumped his legs harder, sobbing, gasping, but the distance shrank. The storm was swallowing him whole.
In a frantic attempt to activate his demon ability, he stumbled—just slightly.
And then—
Hot, foul breath washed over the back of his neck.
He turned.
The sand wave was gone.
Completely.
Vanished as if erased from existence.
For one horrifying second, there was nothing there.
And sohow... that was worse.
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