Grake's massive form loomed over the man kneeling before him, who was trembling and in distress. He extended his colossal hand, seizing the man by the neck and lifting him upward until he was at Garake's eye level.
Garake's eye level was twice the size of the man in front of him, leaving the man suspended mid-air.
Without warning, Grake delivered a devastating blow, slamming the man into the ground. He lifted him again and repeated this brutal sequence two or three times.
By the end of this relentless assault, the man's appearance had become eerily similar to Alron's—limbs twisted, blood oozing from numerous wounds, his face crushed, and teeth scattered across the ground.
The coachman, still on the ground, watched this horrific spectacle with a gaze filled with terror.
With each bone-shattering impact Grake inflicted upon the man, the coachman's heart nearly stopped.
Throughout the relentless assault, the man didn't muster the slightest hint of resistance against Grake. In front of Grake, the man appeared as helpless as a bunny in the presence of a predator.
As Grake examined the battered body of the man, he lifted him up once more.
"Is he dead?" Grake inquired.
"Considering the way you hit him, it would be a miracle if he survived," remarked the young girl from inside the carriage.
"And you forgot to ask him about his leaders whereabouts," the girl added, pointing out the foolishness of Grake's actions.
"Uh, sorry about that. I lost my cool when I heard what they said to you," Grake apologized, while throwing the man's body away.
"But I was hoping to offer the Tulara to the Vian. He seems to be searching for some ingredients for his research, and I remembered that the Tulara is on his list," he explained.
"Vian's research?" the girl inquired.
"If that's the case, then I can help you locate him. I happen to know something that can help us find out where he lives," she said as she stepped outside from the carriage.
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She walked toward the man who had been brutally crushed by Grake. As she approached, she knelt down in front of him and extended her hand toward him, touching the blood oozing from one of his wounds.
As her fingertip came into contact with the blood, she pulled her hand back and examined the bloodstain on her finger.
She rubbed the bloodstain with her other fingers, and as she did, the red color of the stain began to fade, replaced by a soft blue hue. At that moment, something strange began to occur from her fingertips.
From the spot where the bloodstain had been, tiny, dust-like particles began to emerge as she continued to rub her fingertips. The bloodstain slowly dissolved, transforming into this light blue dust, and more of it appeared in her hand as she continued.
After a few moments, she blew the accumulated dust onto the man's injured body with a soft
"swoof."
The dust began to envelop the man's entire body, and at that moment, something shimmered and caught her eye.
The young girl fixed her gaze on the shining object, and as her vision sharpened, what appeared was a tiny string. A faint smile graced her lips.
"Here, this will lead you to the Tulara. These are the strings that Tulara used for puppeteering," she said, extending her hand toward the string and gently tugging it. As she did, the seemingly colorless and invisible string began to glow with a radiant golden hue.
"Clever as ever," Grake praised as he began to follow the golden string, appreciating the girl's ingenuity.
The young girl watched Grake until he vanished into the darkness.
"Now, you," she said, turning her attention to the coachman.
"I can see you're still shaking, but what are you going to do about the carriage? I don't like to travel in a damaged carriage, and on this red night, it's too cold outside. Do you have any solutions for this?" she inquired.
The coachman looked at the carriage; its door had been torn off and thrown away, but it seemed salvageable with a new door.
Despite his continued shaking, he stood up and made his way toward the discarded door.
Upon closer inspection, he noted that the handle was completely broken and beyond immediate repair, but the part where it attached to the carriage was somewhat damaged but could be reattached.
"Not all of it can be fixed, but I can reattach the door to the carriage," he explained as he looked back at the girl.
"Then do it," she instructed.
As the coachman prepared to lift up the carriage door, the girl walked to the front of the carriage where the horses were still sleeping. She approached one of the horses with deliberate steps, bent down in front of it, and began to examine it closely.
With her hand in front of the horse's nose, she forcefully opened the horse's eyes.
After her inspection, she concluded, "We have to wait at least an hour until the horses wake up."
However, as she looked toward the coachman to relay this information, a sudden sound of metal hitting hard reached her ears, and she turned to see the coachman on the ground beside the carriage door, making it clear what had happened.
"You're hopeless," she sighed, moving her head in a disappointed manner.
"No hurry, we still have an hour," she muttered to herself, trying to improve her mood.