Chapter 67: The Fog Island [7] Alice’s POV [4].

There came a silence that lasted a while, which I took advantage of to ease my breathing. I had successfully escaped from the influence of its power, but, naturally, the specter didn’t seem concerned by my suddenly-regained confidence. It must’ve deemed the moment proper to attack me now that the beasts were badly injured. But still... All the intelligence gathered about them by the previous raid stated these monsters were intangible; how did it make sense for them to be scared of black wolves?

The answer—it didn’t, and it wasn’t. From the beginning, the specter seemed reluctant to interfere once I clashed in battle, and it was also strange that it didn’t kill me when I was unconscious. It was obvious; it didn’t have a reason to fear other monsters, and it wasn’t really trying to kill me to begin with. But then, why was that?

I tried to remember as much as I could about the Fog Island reports, but nothing came to mind. The only interesting thing I knew was that they had been spotted wandering across the lake connecting to the southern Nation, not far from the coast. That, and that none of the Holders that crossed their path were injured or killed. But then again, they were Second-Ranks, and they could still use their power to fight back.

My head began throbbing as the seconds passed, and I struggled to keep a smug smile on my lips. I may not have been able to recall anything useful, but at least I had learned I wouldn’t be killed by that ghost—well, not as long as I held my mind clear.

I took a quick glance at the wolves and the fog beside me, making sure the fight wouldn’t resume without a warning. Then, I took a deep breath and clenched my teeth. Come on...

Ugggh...!

I pressed a finger against the puncture on my shoulder; the adrenaline numbed the pain somewhat, but it still hurt like hell. Despite the urge to faint and rest, I needed to check my condition before deciding my next move. It might not look like it, but shoulder wounds, if deep, are incredibly dangerous. If the axillary artery had been ruptured, then I would’ve been as good as dead. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

Huff... A-A little cold won’t kill me... I tried to remain calm and quickly ripped my cloak into strips, then made a sorry attempt at a pad to press against the wound. The dogs were still in what looked like a glaring contest against the specter.

As I finished, I thought about what to do next. If the monsters were too busy threatening each other, then the smartest choice I could make was to leave; however, to where? I couldn’t run blindly toward a random direction; otherwise, it was possible that something worse would come to greet me. I was in danger, and my friends most likely were as well. If I was meant to die, then taking the risk would at least buy me some time.

That’s why I wasted no time being discreet, and instead began running as fast as I could back to where I thought I had come from. Hopefully this time I would find Aldrus or the others.

The distance between the creatures and me must’ve increased rapidly, but this hellish place was not willing to let me exactly know how much. My body tore through the gray cloud that kept the land ash-colored so clumsily I couldn’t help but imagine how laughable I must’ve looked. All my life I’d been told of the importance of my blood, so noble, so... blue. Well, the time had come now when it splattered across dead soil and fields no one remembers. I wished I could tell those people home of the good this blood had brought me. None.

As I went through countless useless thoughts and memories, I began feeling cold. It would’ve been just as irrelevant as my feelings—not for the fact that it was a cold you’d only feel one way—fever. My shoulder was getting worse, or maybe it was all just in my head; it didn’t matter. By that point I was so determined to flee that it took some time until I realized nobody was chasing me.

"What...?" Instinctively, I stopped running and glanced behind me. I had expected at least a pair of crimson eyes close enough to be a threat, but silence met me instead. No longer in motion, I could feel a single heat wave rush through my body before it fell into numbness once again.

I wanted to sit and sleep so badly, but the apparent safety I found myself in hid within it something terrible; somehow I knew I was being watched. The specter? No, even if it’s close to a ghost, whenever that creature shows up, it is very apparent. This calculated peace, this feeling of malice... I knew exactly what it was.

Suddenly, as if it realized I was aware of its presence, the injured black wolf I had just kicked and slashed sprang forward and clung onto the top of a dry, dead tree beside me with its claws.

"T-This dog again!" I took a step back by reflex and avoided its bloodied fangs. In a second, the beast had lunged at me from the tree.

Ugh! Taken by surprise, I tripped and fell to my back, just to roll out of a pair of claws’ way just in time. I stood up. The wolf rushed at me again, and before it could move too much, I closed the distance quickly, then kicked it on the snout.

After a yelp, the beast limped back cautiously; it seemed desperate, way more aggressive than before. Did it want me dead so much? Was it that hungry? What happened to the others? And the specter? I didn’t have time; my condition was worsening, and I needed to get that thing out of the way.

Just as I thought that, however, the wolf let out another terrible yelp and charged at me again. It was a pitiful, reckless attack; almost sloppy, I would say, if not for the fact that both of its eyes still burned with alien intent. Dragging a wounded paw, carrying a tired tail, it shouldn’t have been a challenge. Yet, no matter how much force I tried to excerpt, my sword felt as heavy as the world.

D-Damn it!

I only managed to block the attack with the blade, and I got pinned to the ground. Without my powers, a Yellow Beast felt to me like facing a lion as a child. A terrible pain shot through my entire arm as I struggled to keep the beast away from my face; the bleeding on my shoulder, which I had briefly stopped, began to flow again urgently fast. It wasn’t long before that arm gave out, and I was forced to hold my own with the other.

I used it all: knees, headbutts, elbows, hilt, teeth. It was no good; I was going to die. Nothing was going to stop it from killing me; no one was coming to save me. That was, without a doubt, the first time I felt death truly close to me, knocking on my door, breathing on my neck. I don’t remember much after that—how much time it passed, struggling like a dying bug.

It was when I began to feel the sparks of a dangerous sleep creeping on me that I looked straight into the wolf’s eyes for the first time. It was raining, so I couldn’t see well. There was fog everywhere, so I wasn’t sure. I had tears in my eyes, maybe of pain, or perhaps fear, so I had a hard time truly seeing beyond those crimson spheres. The beast was terrified. There was a plea in those eyes, a wish. The most primal desire of all—to live.

The smell of blood and rotten flesh shook me out of my dizziness soon after, and I realized then that the wolf was dead. I didn’t know for how long, but it had succumbed to its wounds before me.

It took me several minutes to push the corpse away and free myself. It took some more until I mustered the strength to stand and leave. I couldn’t stay there, or the smell would’ve brought more foes to me. So I limped somewhere, anywhere, blindly and in pain. I lost count of time and any sense of thought, but as soon as I noticed familiar footprints on the mud, my heart at last found peace, even if it led to a corpse or a trap. So I followed the trail, and just before I passed out, I heard a voice call.

"...ie!"

"Blondie! Hey! It’s me! Are you okay?! W-Where are the others?! Damn it, don’t close your eyes, stay with me, come on!"

A familiar face. Muffled, annoying tone. Arrogant, stupid, bloodied now. And a hair as blonde as mine. It was Cedric; I had found one of my friends. I was safe.