Ian sat in the flickering glow of the fire, his body aching from the brutal struggle.
His wounds throbbed, his muscles felt like lead, and the scent of blood still clung to his skin. But despite all that, he was alive.
He had won. Barely.
A translucent panel shimred in his vision, the letters glowing softly in the dark.
[Vermin Slain: Venom Dog]
[Soul Available: Absorb?]
[Yes] - [No]
His fingers twitched as he hovered over the selection. He had no idea what absorbing a beast soul would feel like, but he had nothing to lose.
His soul essence was drained, and every ounce of energy counted if he wanted to survive this cursed forest.
With a deep breath, he focused his thoughts and accepted the prompt.
The mont he did, a cold rush flooded his veins. It wasn't painful, nor was it particularly pleasant—just a strange, consuming sensation, like plunging into deep water.
His wounds tingled, and beneath his torn shirt, his skin began knitting itself back together at an accelerated rate.
The dull ache in his limbs faded slightly, and though he wasn't suddenly brimming with strength, he felt... sturdier.
Not as frail.
It was nothing compared to the raw power he had felt radiating after absorbing the soul from the brute in the pits, but it was sothing. And sothing was better than nothing.
As he adjusted to the sensation, Ian turned his attention to Eli, who had already begun carving up the fallen beast.
The golden-eyed man worked with a precision that made Ian uneasy, his dagger slicing effortlessly through muscle and sinew.
The dog's dark flesh was soon skewered on sharpened sticks, roasting above the crackling flas.
The scent of sizzling at filled the air, rich and savory, masking the damp, earthy musk of the forest.
Ian sat close to the fire, drawn to its warmth as the night air grew colder. He pulled his tattered cloak tighter around his shoulders, watching as Eli expertly turned the at, ensuring an even roast.
The sound of sizzling fat filled the silence between them.
When the flesh had cooked to a golden brown, Eli plucked one of the skewers from the fire and offered it to Ian.
Ian hesitated.
His fingers hovered over the stick, his stomach growling at the scent, but his mind recoiled at the thought of what he was about to eat.
Eli sensed his reluctance and smirked.
"The beasts may look vile, but they taste better than you'd think," he said, his voice calm. "Besides, the fire burns away the venom."
Ian blinked, his appetite montarily forgotten.
"Venom?" He shot Eli a sharp look.
Eli nodded, unbothered.
"Yeah. That dog was packed with it. A single bite should've paralyzed you in minutes." He leaned back, inspecting Ian with mild curiosity. "Seeing as you're not frothing at the mouth or twitching on the ground, it seems your self-healing works against venom as well."
'This bastard...I could've died'
Ian exhaled slowly. "Huh. That's good to know." He reached forward, finally taking the offered skewer.
For a mont, he just stared at the at. In his old world, he would have never even considered eating dog. Rabid or not, it was unthinkable.
But here? Did it matter?
Survival was survival.
With that thought, he took a bite. The at was shockingly tender, the juices seeping onto his tongue with a burst of rich, smoky flavor.
A hint of spice lingered on his taste buds, a depth he hadn't expected. He chewed slowly, savoring it, then took another bite, bigger this ti.
"Fucking hell," he muttered between mouthfuls. "That's good."
"Told you." Eli grinned, tearing a chunk off his own skewer with his teeth.
For a while, the only sounds were the crackling fire and the occasional rustling from deep within the trees. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable—just the kind that ca from two people who had been through enough to appreciate a quiet mont.
Ian stared into the fire, watching the flas dance and flicker.
His mind drifted back to the story Eli had told him earlier. About the princess. About the mother who was taken. About the little boy left behind.
He glanced at Eli, his expression unreadable.
"The kid in that story... the one left behind." He paused, then asked, "That was you, wasn't it?"
Eli didn't answer at first. His gaze remained locked on the flas, his face devoid of emotion. But the weight in the air shifted, a subtle tension that spoke louder than words.
After a long pause, Eli finally spoke.
"My past isn't pleasant enough for conversation."
Ian let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head.
"No kidding."
He reached into his inventory and retrieved a cigarette and lighter. Placing the cigarette between his lips, he cupped his hands around the fla, shielding it from the wind as he lit up.
The first drag sent warmth curling through his chest, the familiar burn grounding him. He exhaled a slow plu of smoke, watching as it drifted into the night air.
Eli raised a brow, his golden eyes flicking between the cigarette and Ian's face. "What's that?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
Ian smirked, taking another long drag before answering.
"Relief," he said simply. "An escape. A bad habit."
He held up the lighter and cigarette pack, tossing them toward Eli. The man caught them effortlessly, turning them over in his hands as if examining so strange artifact.
Ian chuckled, tapping off the ash from his cigarette. "Here," he said. "Indulge in my bad habits too."
For the first ti that night, Eli's expression softened—just a little. A ghost of a smirk played on his lips as he flicked the lighter, watching the fla dance before his eyes.
It was like a magical artifact of sorts, at least to him it was.
The fire crackled between them, casting shadows on the forest floor.
The Blackblood Forest remained around them, vast and hungry, filled with creatures that could tear Ian apart in an instant.
But for now, in the glow of the campfire, they were just two survivors. Two n who had both lost sothing.
Who both craved vengeance more than anything else, but Ian didn't know that yet.
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