Chapter 9 Grief and Fury

Both Iryoku and Yumi collapsed onto the cavern floor in silence, their bodies pressed close as they landed. Yumi’s head rested against his chest, and for a moment, the only sound was their labored breathing.

“Fuck,” Iryoku muttered between breaths. “How the hell are we supposed to beat that thing?”

Their rapid breathing slowly steadied. Yumi remained frozen in place, her heart still racing. She tried to calm herself, but fear gnawed at her, leaving her jittery.

Unnoticed at first, a sensation brought her attention back to her bosom—a pressure, she felt her chest being groped, Yumi blinked, realization dawning. Wait…

Her eyes widened. She abruptly scrambled to her feet, the red flush of embarrassment burning her cheeks. Without hesitation, she lashed out, her foot catching Iryoku squarely in the side.

“W-what the hell was that?!” she whispered harshly, landing another kick.

Still lying on the ground, Iryoku let out a low laugh, wincing slightly but not stopping her. “Hey, hey, calm down, shorty. I was just checking to see if you were hurt. Can you blame me?”

“Hurt?!” Yumi hissed, her face glowing red with a mix of fury and embarrassment. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively, but the gesture barely covered anything and, in fact, only seemed to draw more attention to her.

Iryoku finally sat up, rubbing the spot where her kicks had landed. “What? You looked dazed. Thought maybe you cracked a rib or something. Looks like you’re fine, though.” His grin widened mischievously.

Yumi clenched her fists, her frustration mounting. She wanted to scream at him, to demand an apology, but the echo of her voice could alert the creature. Her lips trembled as she swallowed her anger.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, her voice low but sharp.

Iryoku stood, dusting himself off. “Impossible, but alive. And you are too, thanks to me.” He gave her a quick once-over. “Keep that fire, though. We’re gonna need it if we want to get out of here in one piece.”

Yumi shot him a glare but kept silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a retort. She adjusted her bow, her hands still shaking slightly as she tried to steady herself, still fuming.

The silence of the cavern returned, punctuated only by the faint drip of water from the stalactites above. The memory of the creature lingered in both their minds.

“Let’s move,” Iryoku said after a moment, his voice now serious. “The longer we stay here, the worse it’s gonna get.”

Yumi nodded reluctantly, gripping her bow tightly. Whatever awkwardness lingered between them, it would have to wait. For now, survival was their only priority.

As they cautiously explored, their eyes began to adjust further, making the darkness less suffocating.

Yumi clung to her bow, her knuckles pale as she followed closely behind Iryoku. The faint echoes of their footsteps filled the air as they approached a particularly large hole in the cavern wall. It was significantly bigger than the others they’d seen, its darkness almost daring them to come closer.

“Wh-what if there’s an even bigger monster in there?” Yumi whispered, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound steady.

Iryoku crouched near the edge of the hole, his expression unreadable as he stared into the void. “I don’t feel anything from this one,” he said after a moment, his tone calm. “Don’t worry.”

Yumi hesitated, glancing between the hole and Iryoku’s confident stance. “How do you even know that? You seemed to sense the last monster before it showed up too... and when I fell, you reacted so fast. How?”

Iryoku turned his head slightly, looking back at her. “I’ve always been good at staying aware of my surroundings. But after we ended up in this crazy world, it’s like my ability to sense things has cranked up to eleven. I can feel things before they’re there... hear or notice stuff I shouldn’t be able to. It’s weird, but useful.”

Yumi blinked, processing his words. Her grip on her bow loosened slightly, but her brow furrowed. “So... what Reika said about willpower affecting our abilities here—about it being tied to our resolve—is true?”

Iryoku nodded. “Yeah. Ojou-chan might ramble a lot, but she’s onto something. We’re all running on more than just skill here. Trust me, shorty. I’ve got this.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t often Iryoku acknowledged or even seemed to care about Reika’s explanations, let alone agree with them. For a fleeting moment, Yumi felt a flicker of respect for him.

But then he called her “shorty” again.

Her eye twitched involuntarily, and she clenched her jaw. Every single time… just when I start to think he’s not so bad, he goes and ruins it.

“Don’t call me shorty,” she muttered under her breath, though her usual timidness dulled the edge in her tone.

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Iryoku smirked, clearly hearing her. “Sure thing, shorty.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, choosing to ignore him this time. As much as she wanted to argue, she knew they had bigger problems to focus on—like surviving. Still, the irritation bubbled under her skin.

The two continued to examine the large hole cautiously, both hyper-aware of their surroundings. Though Iryoku had dismissed the possibility of danger from it, the silence and faint candy-like scent in the air kept them both on edge.

They ventured deeper into the narrow opening, their steps echoing softly in the oppressive silence. The faint glow of their heightened vision allowed them to navigate the darkness, but the air felt heavier with every step.

After a few minutes, they emerged into a vast, cavernous room. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, adorned with stalactites, their forms faintly outlined against the ambient gloom. The room was silent, devoid of the sounds of dripping water or distant scuttling that might have eased the tension.

They scanned the area carefully, their senses sharpened by unease. Despite the cavern's size, nothing stirred—not even the faintest hint of movement.

At the far end of the cave, they noticed another small opening, partially obscured by rocks. Iryoku motioned for Yumi to stop and gestured for her to stay back.

“Wait here,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Yumi nodded reluctantly, her bow raised, an arrow nocked and ready. Her heart raced as she watched him advance cautiously into the smaller cave.

Iryoku moved with deliberate precision, his body low and his hand hovering near his daggers. His movements were uncharacteristically tense, each step slow and measured. She watched him disappear into the darkness, her anxiety growing with every passing second.

Suddenly, he stopped. His head tilted downward, and he stared at the ground, unmoving.

Her breath caught in her throat as she whispered, “What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” he replied, but his voice sounded strained, as though holding back something he couldn’t express.

Then, he crouched and reached for something on the ground. He held it in his hand, staring at it for a long moment without saying a word.

Yumi’s fingers tightened on her bow. Her unease bubbled into outright fear. “Iryoku…?” she whispered again, taking a step forward.

“Stop,” he said sharply, his voice breaking slightly. “Stay there. Don’t come here.”

His tone sent a chill through her, but she couldn’t ignore the concern swelling inside her. Her instincts screamed for her to stay put, but her curiosity and worry overrode her caution. She hesitated only a moment before stepping into the room.

“I said stop!” Iryoku’s voice cracked, but she kept moving.

Her boots crunched faintly against the ground as she approached him, the sound unnatural and brittle. She hesitated as the faint crunch grew louder with each step, her gaze lowering instinctively.

And then, she saw it.

The ground was littered with bones—tiny, brittle fragments scattered like discarded debris. Ribcages, limbs, and skulls were strewn across the cavern floor, some shattered, others disturbingly intact. Her gaze locked onto one particular skull, small and unmistakably human-like, its hollow eyes staring up at her.

Her steps faltered, and her breath hitched. “Oh… oh no…” she whispered, her voice trembling as the reality of the scene sank in.

They knew it was possible ever since they had seen the monster back then, but they tried not to think about it, clinging to the hope that things would turn out fine.

Iryoku was kneeling amidst the bones, holding one of the small skulls in his hands. His fingers trembled as he clutched it, his head bowed low. Even in the darkness, Yumi could see the tears streaming silently down his cheeks, leaving streaks against his dirt-streaked face.

“I told you not to come,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

Yumi felt a surge of nausea, her stomach twisting at the sight. But the overwhelming grief in Iryoku’s posture overtook her own shock. Her tears welled up, blurring her vision, and she slowly approached him, her fear replaced by the need to comfort him.

Dropping her bow, she knelt beside him and, without a second thought, wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him gently into her chest. She could feel his trembling body against hers, the weight of his sorrow pouring out into the quiet embrace.

“Iryoku…” she whispered, her voice breaking. She didn’t care about his teasing, his sharp remarks, or the moments he frustrated her. All that mattered now was the broken person in her arms.

He didn’t resist her. Instead, he leaned into her embrace, clutching the small skull as though letting go of it would shatter him completely.

“I hate this place,” he said, his voice muffled against her chest, filled with a raw vulnerability she had never heard from him before.

Yumi finally realized that Iryoku’s playful teasing had been his way of shielding her from the harsh reality they were facing...

They pulled away from the embrace, the heavy silence between them replaced by the grim task ahead. Iryoku and Yumi began gathering the small skulls scattered across the ground. Their hands moved with a somber purpose, carefully picking out the children’s remains from the litter of bones.

It was then that Yumi noticed something unsettling—many of the other bones were not human. They were larger, some with claw marks and fractures suggesting predation. Beast skulls, twisted and broken, littered the cavern floor alongside the tiny human-like remains.

“Iryoku,” she whispered, holding up a jagged animal jawbone. “The other creatures… this thing’s been hunting everything around here.”

Iryoku frowned, his gaze scanning the remains again. “That explains the silence,” he muttered. “All the monsters… It’s already killed them. That’s why the path from the town was so empty.”

The weight of his words settled over them. The creature was not just dangerous—it was an apex predator, eliminating anything that dared to encroach on its territory.

Among the debris, they found a piece of tattered cloth, frayed but sturdy enough to hold what they needed. Iryoku fashioned it into a crude bag, tying it tightly to keep the delicate skulls secure. He slung it over his shoulder, his expression grim as he took one last look around the room.

At the far end of the cavern, something gleamed faintly. They approached cautiously, their senses heightened. As they drew closer, the sight became clear—a pile of cracked, white fragments nestled against the wall. The remains of eggs, their surfaces broken, lay scattered like discarded shells.

But one egg remained intact.

Its smooth surface shimmered faintly in the darkness, the size of a small melon. It radiated an unnatural warmth as if pulsing with the creature’s lifeblood.

Iryoku knelt and picked it up, his fingers curling around it with deliberate care. The egg was heavier than it looked, its shell unnervingly soft, almost pliable. He held it up, inspecting it as though it were some grotesque prize.

“We’ll use this,” he said, his voice low and steady. “We’ll lure it out with its own spawn.”

Yumi’s eyes, still red from tears, now burned with newfound resolve. Her hands tightened around her bow, and she gave a sharp nod. “I’ll kill it,” she said firmly.

Iryoku glanced at her, a flicker of approval crossing his face. “Damn right, shorty.”

They exchanged a determined look, their shared grief now transformed into a shared purpose. Holding the egg carefully, Iryoku gestured toward the dark opening that led back into the maze of tunnels.

“Let’s move,” he said. “This ends now.”

Yumi followed, her heart pounding, her mind sharp. She would not let the creature’s atrocities go unanswered.