Ronan’s consciousness slowly faded in. The surrounding noise seemed muffled, but displayed a sense of organization. Moving wheels and vibrations told him he wasn’t in a tent; but a covered wagon, and it was in motion. Gradually sensing his arms, he raised one up to make contact with his forehead. A throbbing headache caused him to groan as he shuffled around to take more of his surroundings. He noticed a variety of colored pillows and the flickering lamps hung up to give a warm glow. “Fuck,” he mumbled as he sat up. At that moment, he experienced the piercing pain in his body, and his hand instinctively clutched onto it. He sensed the presence of bandages surrounding it, as well as some of his skin. “Shit, how long... fuck...” He examined himself and found that his chest and shoulders were wrapped in bandages instead of a shirt. “Where... ugh, I need--”

“Ah, you’re awake.” Malik entered the tent, holding onto a bowl.

Ronan fixed his gaze intensely on the man with horns adorning his head and a tail that swayed ever so slightly. “You... too...”

“Ah, right. You never saw us before. You did meet my leader though, I presume? After all, he and a few others carried you back.”

It’s likely Stungalm and Nahele... he thought as he scrutinized the surroundings around some more. At that moment, he suddenly became aware of his father’s presence; breathing with ease, but unconscious. Malik responded to the stare. “He has been out for a bit as well, but he is stabilized. No worries.”

With a sigh, Ronan knew he could focus on getting information. “What are you?”

“Well, first, I am Malik. Pleasure. As for race: we’re Hellhounds. We happened to be passing by when the elves attacked, so we came to help. Or well, that was one reason. We also wanted to repay a debt for saving my son. He was in dog form when you and two others helped me from the Rakshasa.”

“Dog... form... wait... that dog?”

“Yeah, that was my son. We can transform between humanoid and dog forms. The word Hellhound is probably explanatory, no?” Malik smiled as he got on both of his knees beside him, “I was actually going to change your bandages and put new salve in the wounds, but since you’re awake... would you prefer doing it by yourself?”

“You can do it. It’s fine. I am too stiff to do shit right now.” He grumbled, trying to roll his shoulders, but it ached so badly that he gave up. With a nod, Malik commenced his work, ensuring he didn’t apply excessive force and cause Ronan discomfort. As Malik removed the aged bandages and gently applied the salve, Ronan spoke up, “Malik, how much time did I lose?”

“Hmm... about half a day. If you’re wondering what’s going on now, we packed up everything and are heading to a safer destination.”

“Destination? Where?”

“Well, we are going to the supposed Draconic Elf settlement. Raygnar and his father are leading the way. However, they said it is going to take a couple of days to get there, so we will have to camp outside for the night. As for your people; unfortunately... only half of you made it... the rest are gone. Your friends, from what I am told though, are here; safe.”

Eyes flashed wide, the white showing around his whole irises as he scampered up. But he ended up falling forward because of the constructive pain. Malik desperately grabbed him, preventing him from falling directly on the ground. “You need to slow down, friend! You shouldn’t be moving, anyway.” He gently had Ronan go back to laying down, “they are fine. Kyle, right? He’s fine. And someone named... Huon? He is unconscious, but he is stable.”

Ronan stammered, expressing his relief as the weight lifted from his shoulders, “Oh thank god, thank god.” Once the new bandages were wrapped around him, Malik stood up and went to the father, checking his vital signs for anything out of the ordinary. “Hmm. Still breathing. Nothing obstructive happening. Good. Just needs more rest.”

“Hey... Malik. You mentioned it’s being led by... Raygnar and his father? Where did the father come from?”

“Oh right,” Malik smiled, “he got called upon. It’s a long story that they can tell you later on. The father’s name is Trevor, and he was the one who found Huon. I also believed he helped Mrs. Stark and the children escape as well.”

“She’s... here too...” Ronan exhaled, “why... why did this all happen?”

“Speaking of that,” Malik came back to Ronan’s side, “our leader, Aralt, informed us that you fought against a Pencari who had some sort of floating arcane hands. What happened before he got there?”

Ronan navigated through his memory bank, processing all the events that had occurred this morning. His eyes scrunched up, forcing the horrific images to recall to the hellhound. “They attacked... I ran to the church to find people since there were... always people there praying. A man... no, a monster. It was wearing heavy armor; pointed ears... blonde hair, blue eyes. His posture was that of an entitled prick,” he coughed. “Uugh... words were exchanged, then Huon showed up and fought him. People died... not all of them were saved.”

“My condolences,” Malik responded softly. “What else happened?”

“I got the people out of there. Rescued the rest. Found my father, unconscious and hurt. Then that kid... no... the Pencari disguised as a kid attacked me.” His hands scrunched into a fist, angry at his incompetence, but also the trickery on him. “Then... god, everything became hazy after that.. I remember the hellhound... Aralt you said? The Stungalm... Nahele... then... that was it.”

“Interesting, the elves sent a spy to your camp... in the guise of a child...”

“A child brought by Nahele and Stungalm,” Ronan growled, his body heating up every second. “I want an explanation from them... now.”

“I can’t make promises, but I’ll let them know you want to talk.” Malik was on his feet and turned away to leave. “During that time, refrain from reopening your wounds.” He exited the covered wagon and into the open, where various people of different races walked. Malik patted the hellhound, which was dragging the covered wagon, before searching for the two individuals. Aralt held a few displeasing opinions about the two. Malik’s eyes sparkled with intrigue as he pondered what had been said in their conversation. Gathered to strengthen their defenses, everyone around remained on the edge, fearing another potential attack.

Malik maneuvered through the people, saying ‘excuse me’ as he sought the two individuals. Instead, he found his leader and asked him. “Hey Aralt!” He called out as he got closer, “have you seen Nahele or Stungalm? Ronan’s awake and needs to talk to them.”

“I am not aware of Stungalm’s whereabouts, but Nahele is on one of the covered wagon roofs, engaged in something.” He pointed to a different covered wagon, where Malik noticed the hooded figure whittling on some wood with a dagger. “It might be a good idea to speak with the Trevor guy. I remember he and Stungalm had interacted the last time I encountered them.”

He gestured approval to his leader, then approached Trevor, who stood at the expedition’s front with Raygnar and his cart. “Hey, Trevor,” he greeted him. “You know where Stungalm is?”

Trevor, focused on the front, didn’t turn to face the speaker. But he answered, “Stungalm is making rounds for any roaming Rakshasa and Pencari that might be coming. I am not aware of the exact location, though. Unfortunately, your best bet is to wait until we set camp for the night.”

“I see...” Malik frowned, not sure well how Ronan would take the news.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Why? Is it urgent?”

“Well, the leader’s son, Ronan, is awake. He wants to talk to Stungalm and Nahele...” The hellhound went back to the location where he was aware Nahele was. “I’ll inform him. No worries.”

He climbed up the covered wagon, so he can talk to Nahele without yelling, “Hello, Nahele right? Ronan is awake and wants to talk to you.”

Nahele, who had been shaping another statuette, halted his current activity. With his hood raised, obscuring his facial features, he let out a prolonged, intense exhale. “Alright...” He scooted over, jumping down from the roof, and followed Malik to the other wagon. There was no exchange of words as Nahele entered the wagon where Ronan lay. His eyes opened when he detected footsteps.

“Hey. I found Nahele, but Stungalm won’t be available until tonight. Figured better than nothing,” Malik announced. “And like I said, try not to open up the wounds again. Alright?” Subsequently, he departed, leaving them to converse. Nahele sat down, keeping his distance, not looking at Ronan, who held a glare at him. “I need to know... right now. Where did those children come from?”

“They came from the Pencari settlement that I burned down for extra measure. They had been under my care for some time before I considered transferring them to you, given that your settlement was closer.”

“Well then,” Ronan hissed, “How about explaining how you overlooked the fact that one of the Pencari had assumed the identity of a child, and most likely had the means to reveal our whereabouts to their comrades, huh?”

Nahele tilted his head up. His mouth stood open from the accusation. Tugging his hood lower to obscure his red eyes, he faltered in his speech. “R-Really? They— I wasn’t aware. Usually... I can sense dark magic but... but I didn’t sense any of that from the children...”

“Sense dark magic?” Ronan repeated, “You can sense dark magic from the Pencari?”

“I can,” Nahele mumbled, “I rather not explain how, but that I can. So... the one in disguise didn’t have dark magic. Which child was it?”

“Blonde kid, looked to be maybe eight? I do not know of the age... seemed pretty quiet, though.”

“That kid... yeah. I know who you’re talking about. He never spoke at all. Didn’t think on it since it wasn’t unusual for Pencari to tear the tongues off kids who cry too much. Should’ve... looked into it more.”

Ronan’s glares softened a bit, but he still experienced a pounding headache from the situation. “And now our home is gone... going somewhere unfamiliar to us. This is great...” He wiped his face, “with people... non-humans, I don’t know who.”

“If it helps, the people are decent.” Nahele quietly assured, “and me and Stungalm have been on a lookout in case the Pencari show up. Though I am sorry about what happened to you and your people.”

Ronan shook his head, “I don’t want an apology to be honest, I just... I just want my people safe. We haven’t even lived in that cave for half a century. We were so vulnerable... a lot more compared to the other remaining ones.” He choked, trying to not get too emotional. “My father is unconscious, and we lost half of our people in less than a day. Just tell me... do you remember Kyle and Huon? Two people with me? One has long black hair and the other one is tanned & brown hair, muscular?”

“The one with black hair is fine. He is with who I assume he is with his family. The other one... According to what I was told, I believe he woke up recently.

“That’s a relief...” Ronan muttered, relaxing a bit more into the pillows. “One last question before I go back to sleep... the one that attacked me...”

“Which one?”

“A man or looked to be one; clad in armor. Pointed ears, blonde hair, blue eyes. Wasn’t human, but wasn’t masked like a Pencari.”

Nahele sensed a coldness coursing through his veins and held his breath. Holding his hands together, he whispered, “Batuu.”

“Ba-who?” Ronan asked.

“Batuu. General Batuu. He’s the one that leads the Pencari.” Nahele’s voice was low, almost afraid to make a sound. “And you... you faced him? How are you alive?”

Noticing the unease, Ronan slowly rose, being cautious not to injure himself excessively. “That bad, huh? This... person?”

“Extremely.” Nahele voiced, “If you thought the... Pencari are monsters, then he is a demon. He doesn’t even see your kind as sentimental beings; just animals that need to be caged, controlled, and disciplined. He lacks compassion, even for the other Pencari.” His body started shaking, and while Ronan felt sympathetic. He then realized something: “How do you... how do you know all of this?”

Before Nahele could answer, someone joined in the tent. Huon’s voice called out, “Ronan, there you are,” making it clear that the bandaged and bruised man was present. Ronan gulped, remembering how he’d himself look after the battle with Stungalm ended. “Huon, you’re... your...”

“Alive? Yeah... thanks to the bigger, stronger version of that lizard man.” He gave a smile, “don’t know how much they told you anyway, but seeing familiar faces makes these injuries worth the while.” He then noticed the hooded figure and frowned. “Some familiar faces anyway; hey, you’re the guy who dropped the kids off at our camp.”

“Nahele. That’s my name,” he muttered, keeping his head low as he shuffled out of the wagon. “I need to go,” He mumbled as he tried to rush out, but Huon reached out and stopped him. “Hey now. What’s the matter with you?”

Ronan didn’t like where this was going. His heart thumped hard in his chest, the uncertainty if it was out of fear or anxiousness, he wasn’t sure. But he didn’t like it. “Huon... come on, let’s just talk.” He shifted around, causing his body to scream in agony.

“Huh? Hey, buddy, only the guilty dash out like that, so unless you--” Nahele’s attempts to break free from the grip interrupted Huon. During the wrestle, the hood slid off, revealing Nahele’s face. Both Huon and Ronan stopped as they saw the glowing red eyes staring into theirs. They existed alone, as the world stood still. Ronan’s world seemed icy, with haunting memories of people in tears and suffering. And his friend Kyle, who became a husk of himself, stabbed itself into his brain. Fire consumed Huon’s world, humans thrown in as sacrificial lambs. Masked devils with red eyes cackled, relishing in their victims’ torture.

The surging fire was in Huon’s eyes as he snatched the Pencari right in front of him, grasping his throat, and raised him up. “You son of a bitch!” He bellowed as he brought Nahele over to him, using his weight to slam him onto the floor. Ronan shouted, his wounds screaming at him to stop, but he tried anyway. Huon sat on top of the body, his hands holding Nahele down by the throat. “How dare you show your face here, after all that you and your people did to us!”

Ronan’s body fell, but he managed to grab onto Huon’s arm, “Huon! Stop!” He struggled with Huon, whose eyes were consumed by the blazing inferno within him. And as Ronan struggled, a stinging pain emanated from his wound. Blood slowly oozed out, seeping into the bandages.

During the struggle, Nahele whimpered, his eyes sealed shut as his breathing became erratic, like a man who was drowning. Overwhelmed with desperation, he experienced a sensation within him struggling to be released. The pressure was overwhelming. But he tried to push it back; the darkness clawing out and wanting the flesh of the man on top. The whimper only fueled Huon’s fire; grip tightened and the nostril flaring. “Don’t beg, you bastard! You killed everyone we knew and loved! I’ll kill you where you lay!”

Malik jumped into the fray, holding back Ronan from interfering. Aralt fought the crazed man while Faizan tended to Nahele, who appeared to be having a panic attack. Huon struggled, trying to break free from Aralt’s grasp. He bellowed and cursed at the Pencari; body heating up as he tried to break free. “Let me go, you fucking hell mongrel!”

“Huon! Stop!” Ronan cried out. “Nahele wasn’t one of them! You need to calm down!”

“You’re taking his side?” Huon shouted. “The side of a monster? A monster arrived here, in our land, with the intent to ruin us. To take us. To kill us. To rape, pillage, maim, torture, and destroy us!“

“How about you shut up, you lunatic!” Aralt snarled, “or I will beat your ass to the seventh layer of Hell.”

“Try it, mutt. Try it!” Huon and Aralt tussled, exchanging blows. Ronan’s heart settled as he found safety, and Malik jumped into the scuttle. Three men wrestled for dominance on the floor, while Faizan tried to ease Nahele, pulling the hood over the elf’s face, which Nahele clutched onto tightly. He began to breathe more evenly. “I’m fine now...” he croaked.

Faizan, however, didn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure?”

“I... I am,” Nahele repeated, as he got up to leave. Not bothering following, Faizan rushed to Ronan in the meantime, seeing the bandages mostly soaked in red. He quickly tried to treat it as his mate and leader struggled to keep Huon down. “Stop fucking resisting. You’re out of your fucking mind!”

“That’s rich coming from a bunch of murderers!” Huon shouted. “Now let me go! I need to kill that bastard!”

Then, a hard step slammed into the cart, and it made everything stop. Stungalm said no word, and his stance reminded Ronan of when he had to ‘spar’ with him. But now, the target was at Huon. Unable to move, he could only observe as the masked human approached a struggling Huon and seized his head. “Release him. I’ll make him shut up.” His growl emitted as Aralt could’ve sworn one of this human’s eyes glowed intensely.

“I’ll make him regret everything.“