*

In the darkness, Vasili felt himself sinking and drifting along. After the flames had receded, he was surrounded only by endless cold. Just as his consciousness was about to completely dissipate, a burning figure suddenly appeared beside him, spreading wide arms and flowing hair, and with light and warmth, dispelling the surrounding cold and darkness.

Vasili may never be familiar with this flame, but he did remember the residual sensation left by the flame licking his body. His pores, his whole body's hair relaxed because of the flame's visit, but at the same time, worried and afraid of being burned.

The flame blanket wrapped around his motionless body, like a warrior being cleansed, or a funeral pyre. Vasili knew that this flame and the dragon's fire had the same origin, both inflicting pain and providing protection. The contradictory nature made Vasili frown and clench his fists, making it hard for him to fall asleep.

In the midst of his confused thoughts, he vaguely felt a newly hatched bird, still unopened eyes and not yet able to chirp, attracted by the warmth of the flame, dragging its wet body, standing beside him, raising its head and spreading its wings.

After what seemed like an eternity, the flame gradually extinguished and Vasili woke up from his slumber. In front of him was a thatched hut, and Vasili sat up, realizing that he was in a wooden house that was simply furnished like a prison cell. Cold air seeped through the curtains covering the window, giving him the illusion that he was back in the confinement cell in Avalanşă. However, when he looked down at the scars and the muscles that had grown during the journey, and felt the fatigue and soreness under the bandages, he truly understood that he had left the dream and was in reality.

Vasili found that although the room was small, he was not thrown about at random on the ground, but slept on a neatly arranged stack of wheat straw, with his abdomen bandaged and covered with a mat. Suddenly, a dangerous intuition expelled the drowsiness from his head, and Vasili looked sharply to his side - a strand of golden hair flowed out from the edge of the mat.

As Vasili gradually lifted the mat, a light filled their grayish-blue eyes with gold. The stranger under the mat relaxed, with their paintbrush-like eyelashes covering their eyes, small and plump vermilion lips exposed a gap without any defense, sleeping with their head resting on their hand. Unlike their beautiful features, they were only wearing a tunic-like garment made of what seemed like coarse linen, without any identification or indication of their status. As the mystery gradually unfolded, the only constant was their hair, which flowed like a golden river along their slender curves, finally spreading out into a flat delta at their waist.

Vasili cautiously stepped back from the wheat stalks and came to the window, lifting the curtain made of sorghum flowers to peer outside.

He had no reason to believe that the sleeping time was enough to take him away from the vast Graywood, and the barren trees in the distance confirmed this. Outside the window was a small village half-burried in volcanic ash and snow. Faded military tents were stationed on the edge of the village, and mercenaries were either washing themselves in tubs or sitting on wooden boxes trimming the edges of their boots with knives.

Vasili remembered the two soldiers he had killed on the bridge and the iron-armored knight who had transformed into a dragon, and couldn't help but step back from the window.

He checked his body again, and many parts were wrapped in bandages, but most were from the wounds he suffered from falling off the bridge. Vasili vaguely remembered breaking several bones before being swallowed by the river, so his injuries at this point were lower than he expected, and there were no new wounds.

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He had to believe that since falling off the bridge, he had not only been protected but also well taken care of, but he didn't naively believe this was a friendly signal. After all, he had heard of the Empire's religious judges deliberately maintaining the health of those on trial just to keep them awake during torture.

Vasili looked over at the folding stool in the corner of the wall.

The sound of cracking wood was loud, disturbing their sleep. They rubbed their eyes and sat up on their side. However, this beautiful scene was soon disrupted by the rough barbarian. Vasili pointed his sharp broken wood towards the defenseless Nymph.

"Stay silent, or I'll cut your throat," the black-haired boy threatened, snarling, while the other widened his grayish eyes and nodded vigorously. "Now, you can only answer my questions, understand?" The other continued nodding desperately, and only then did Vasili release his palm, allowing him to breathe.

"Are you part of the mercenaries outside?"

"Yes," came the answer, surprising Vasili not because the answer was unexpected, but because he could hear from the clear voice that he was also a young male. Reluctantly, Vasili looked down the open collar of the boy's tunic, confirming his thought.

Because the other was also a boy, Vasili clenched his collar even tighter. However, the boy was as soft and defenseless as the stem of a camellia flower, powerless to resist being manipulated.

"Are you... the Legion?" Vasili tried to recall the name the knight in armor had mentioned on the bridge, but hit a wall. He looked up at the blond boy, who remained silent until Vasili shook his body, causing him to feel dizzy and uncomfortable, and then he answered with a dry cough:

"Ninth 'Constanz' Legion."

"What place is this?"

This time, even when Vasili stared at him, the boy remained silent. Seeing that he was about to be shaken again, the boy finally anxiously said that he didn't know.

Vasili looked again at the rough clothing over his delicate appearance and guessed that he might even be a low-ranking servant in the legion or even a more humble slave. Continuing to press for answer might be in vain, so he turned to another question.

"How did I get here?"

The boy turned his head for a moment and answered intermittently, "Two days ago, Constanz and maiden Sandra returned from Devil's Bridge. You were on their horses at the time, barely breathing due to choking on water and losing body heat. The maiden asked us to move you into the cabin and personally took care of you with divine fire until you regained your warmth, then she left."

Sandra, this name echoed in Vasili's mind. He remembered that when the armored knight was knocked down by him, he called out this name. What happened next was so vivid that even now, even if Vasili closed his eyes, it was deeply imprinted on his eyelids: the so-called "divine fire" possessed the armored knight, causing him to transform into a dragon, and with a gentle breath, turned the entire bridge into purgatory...

Even after learning about the maiden's actions, there was still an unresolved question. Vasili narrowed his eyes and looked up at the boy.

"Why are you lying next to me?"

Faced with this question, the other party seemed at a loss. His earlobes under his golden hair were red, and he hunched his shoulders and avoided eye contact, making Vasili feel uncomfortable. The boy hesitantly spoke:

"I used up all my strength when digging graves, and couldn't make preparations before setting off, so they let me lie next to you to warm your body."

For a moment, Vasili also felt itchy all over and couldn't answer, as if he had become the one being questioned. Fortunately, at this moment, a horn sounded from outside the house, breaking the stiff air between the two of them who were sitting up straight. Vasili took the boy to the window, and the two of them peeked at what was happening outside. Upon hearing the horn, the legion soldiers temporarily stopped breaking camp and walked towards the back of the village.

"What are they doing?" Vasili asked.

"Oh no," the boy suddenly remembered something, "we have to set off after the funeral."

"What funeral?" Vasili asked again. The boy looked at the moving crowd and answered calmly: "Naturally, it's the funeral of the person you killed."

The scene in his dream reappeared in the blink of an eye. Cold sweat ran down his forehead, and Vasili grinned: "Then how can I not attend?"

He then asked the boy for his name.

"Capillata," the other party answered shyly and somewhat surprised.

"Capillata, lead the way. Don't get any funny ideas. I killed two legion soldiers, and no matter what anyone else says... I defeated your leader."

Vasili turned Capillata around, using the sharp wooden shard against his slender spine, forcing him to step out of the room with his body stiffened.