A bullet whistled past Leonia's face.
There was no time to react. No calculation, no heroic reflexes — only the brief instant her eyes tracked the projectile slicing through the air, far too fast to avoid.
The shot had barely missed her.
Because it had been meant for the other Priante, the one seconds away from reaching her while she stood distracted.
The bullet struck the creature head-on, violently hurling the colossal sideways. Before Leo could even process what had happened, two more precise shots tore through the air. She barely had time to duck and shield herself.
The creature's body crashed heavily against the ground, never even getting the chance to release its final breaths.
Dazed, the audrean glanced quickly at the dead Priante before turning toward the source of the gunfire.
Only then did she realize how unprepared she truly was.
So much so that she had forgotten where she was.
She could have died without even realizing it.
The Forest of Old Bones did not shelter only monsters.
There were humans there too.
Cruel ones.
Sometimes worse than a zalma.
Her hand instinctively tightened around what remained of the shard of glass — or rather, the memory of the shard that had saved her from a real death.
Now empty-handed, only her own body remained as a weapon against whoever had fired the shot.
Or rather—
Whoever she was.
Gunpowder still lingered in the air when Leo looked up.
The woman who still held the firearm aimed toward the Priante slowly turned toward Leonia. She tilted her head, and the frame of her dark glasses slid slightly down the bridge of her nose, revealing golden eyes.
Golden?
That was unusual.
Not for an audrean.
Assuming that woman even was one.
Then she adjusted the glasses again as though assessing the value of prey.
Her.
For a brief moment, the two silently measured each other from head to toe.
Leonia suppressed her reaction out of habit. The shock crossed her face for only a second before giving way to surprise.
—Nice shot. — she complimented.
—Thank you. — the woman replied, sounding pleased.
The woman's burnt-orange hair contrasted sharply with white streaks splitting through the center of her bangs. There was something about her that seemed… marked by the world. Not only by the sun, but by everything that came with it.
Her hunting clothes were sturdy, worn in all the right places — not through neglect, but through constant use. Reinforced brown leather wrapped around her body like a second skin. Knives, ropes, tools, everything secured to belts and straps descending along her waist and legs.
Her brown animal-leather coat was perhaps the most eye-catching piece, painted with colorful scattered symbols: eyes, stars, hearts, snakes, hats.
On the side of her left sleeve, a phrase painted in orange ink stretched across the worn leather:
"Maraui falandri na drauhu fai Calansi."
Leo only caught it for a moment.
But it was enough to recognize the language.
Medruian.
The ancient tongue of the Medrus, the people native to the northeastern island of Camalia known as the Last Sun.
Leo knew a little about them — or at least the version Camalian books allowed to survive. In her spare time away from training and experimental theory classes, she loved spending hours among maps and books.
Enough to recognize that the phrase roughly meant:
"Blessed be the path of the cursed."
A very strange thing to wear on a jacket.
The island had been conquered by King Aurílio Marrion in the year 1800 after a military campaign conveniently justified through "civilizing expansion." The local caves were rich in diamonds, gold, and coal, which coincidentally made the existence of another civilization a very urgent problem for Camalia to solve.
The Medrus had been colonized, enslaved, and converted.
Carucho became the official language while Medruian was slowly pushed toward the same fate reserved for everything an empire deemed inconvenient:
Historical ruin.
Or academic curiosity.
Even so, the people who still lived on the island continued to preserve it, refusing to speak with tourists unless they used the native language, alongside countless other customs kept alive simply to ensure their history survived.
After their brief mutual evaluation, and apparently satisfied, the woman decided to ignore Leo's existence entirely.
The hunter was already moving toward the fallen Priante. With practiced motions, she pulled a large cloth and ropes from her bag as though searching for the best way to package the creature for transport.
Only then did Leonia notice — a little too late, thanks to her blurred vision.
And only then did she remember the blood streaming between the fingers of the arm she was clutching.
Or rather, what remained of it.
There were too many cuts.
Too much exposed flesh.
And she could swear she was seeing part of her bone.
Leonia looked.
And immediately wished she hadn't.
The wound was worse than she had imagined.
She looked away before she could vomit and somehow make things even worse.
Even disgusted by her own arm, the pain still hadn't truly reached her.
Perhaps she was too numb with adrenaline to even understand how much blood she was losing.
Leo needed to do something about that arm if she wanted to stay alive long enough to continue this mission.
The nameless redhead knelt on the ground and pulled a knife case from her bag, unfolding it across the dirt before replacing her black gloves with disposable ones.
She inspected each blade individually, lifting them toward the sunlight like some kind of surgeon preparing for open-air surgery.
It was almost as horrifying as studying the dissected interior of a real Priante corpse during Anatomy of Other Beings class.
Even without paying attention to Leo, the girl searched nearby for something she could use against the woman if necessary. She had no idea what the hunter's intentions were, and being ready for the first strike was better than nothing.
Leo knew that if they fought directly in her current condition, the woman would probably beat her senseless.
And that "probably" only barely contained the possibility of failure.
So the smartest option was to stay alert and avoid drawing attention to herself.
Spoken, of course, by the woman whose arm was torn apart and who was covered head-to-toe in blood.
—Stop thinking stupid things. — the woman said without even looking at her. Her voice was dry, leaving no room for argument. — If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have wasted two bullets on the Priante. I would've used one to hit both of you.
Leo doubted that.
But the certainty in her tone made the possibility feel entirely real.
—I got my nails done three days ago and I don't feel like ruining them. Priante blood gets ridiculously sticky once it dries. And it's nearly impossible to remove from clothing. Easier to burn the clothes and spend two days bathing in salts and lionrose petals. Some people I know said the smell can stay stuck to you for more than a day. — she explained matter-of-factly while selecting her knives and crawling toward the corpse.
—Ah. Right. I've heard about that. — Leo answered with feigned disinterest.
Which was a lie.
She knew she would probably have to do exactly that soon enough, considering how much the creature's stench already seemed embedded into her skin.
Still, it had its uses.
The Priante's scent would work as temporary camouflage while she remained inside the forest. Colossals would avoid approaching her, and some predators would mistake her scent for something already dead.
Or worse.
The downside was that she would probably spend the next few days smelling like a cursed slaughterhouse abandoned beneath the sun.
Which, honestly, felt pretty consistent with the direction her life had taken so far.
Using every bit of strength still left in her trembling knees, Leonia managed to stand.
Or something close to it.
Her legs buckled immediately, muscles failing beneath her own weight, and she had to focus all her effort simply on remaining upright. Every fiber of her body protested the decision.
The little dignity she still possessed had been reduced to that miserable scene.
If Tamaya — or even Ryuu — found her in that state, they would never recognize her as Leonia Bellius, the best candidate to become a Herald.
The title almost felt offensive now.
Apparently, not even the greatest Herald candidate looked very impressive outside Montreal's walls.
Especially while bloodied, half-mutilated, and smelling like a rotting carcass.
Damn it.
She hated this.
The trembling.
The weakness.
The feeling that her body was betraying everything her mind had trained itself to become.
For far too long, she simply watched the hunter.
Observing.
Absorbing.
The way that woman moved without hesitation, every gesture precise. As if the world had tried hunting her so many times that she had simply…
Learned how to hunt back.
Something uncomfortable twisted inside Leonia's chest.
Admiration.
Followed immediately by bitterness.
Because somewhere deep inside herself, she knew:
That was how she imagined herself.
How she wanted to become.
Indestructible.
Lethal.
But at that moment…
She could barely remain standing.
—In that case, your waste was well spent. Again… thank you. — Leo said, still dazed, the word sounding strange in her own mouth.
—Don't thank me. — The answer came immediately. Cold. — I didn't do it for you. I did it for the creature. The guild's paying two hundred gold coins for one of these.
Of course.
That made sense.
The redhead had already started dismembering the beast, separating useful parts from disposable ones.
Leonia looked away for a moment, uneasy.
In Montreal, there were very few Colossals. They were easy prey for Zalmas, and when one was killed, the body usually turned to ash before anyone had time to properly study it or understand which parts held value for an audrean.
When she looked back again, she watched the woman work.
For a while.
Too long.
The movements were clean.
Precise.
Like someone used to opening creatures far worse without even losing the rhythm of her breathing.
—If you're going to stare at me like that, at least hire a painter. Then the moment lasts longer.
Heat rose quickly to Leonia's face.
—What? No. You're not my type.
The woman raised an eyebrow slightly. A near-smile appeared at the corner of her lips — subtle and irritatingly confident.
—Hard for me not to be someone's type.
Leonia opened her mouth to answer.
Then stopped.
Maybe because she had never really stopped to think about it before.
And maybe because, at that moment, there were far more urgent things than the absurd ego of a random hunter.
She knew she should take advantage of the fact that this woman understood the forest and ask for more information.
They seemed around the same age.
Yet standing in completely different positions:
One looked moments away from being handed back to death.
The other looked like death itself wearing charm as decoration.
—Would you happen to know something for me? — Leo tried to sound less ignorant than she actually was.
—Every piece of information has a price. What do you want to know?
—Five silver coins.
Leo didn't have a single custão in her pocket, much less anything valuable to offer. Even so, she insisted, maintaining a completely irresponsible confidence for someone half-conscious and partially mutilated.
The redhead had been storing the important parts of the beast inside a leather cloth with bindings when she paused her work, waiting for Leonia to continue.
—The test of—
—Zarkat? — the woman interrupted before Leo could finish. — Let me guess. You're just another idiot chasing the trial.
—"Chasing" is a strong word. — Leo replied carefully, weighing her words.
The woman let out a long, dramatically exhausted sigh, like someone who had already had that conversation far too many times.
—Those bastards love all that "prove your worth," "surpass your limits," "show your strength" nonsense. — She shrugged while tightening the leather bindings. — In the end, they just want to see how far you're willing to crawl to become one of them.
Leo wanted to argue and say she had no intention of becoming an Inquisitor.
Still, joining them was part of her final objective.
Whatever that objective truly was.
—And what exactly is this test about?
—Now it's eight silver coins. — The redhead didn't hesitate for a second. — Have you checked your back pocket? Maybe you'll find the answer to all your questions folded up in there.
Leo frowned suspiciously.
Even so, she reached into the back pocket of her filthy pants with the one arm that still worked reasonably well. Her fingers brushed against a folded piece of paper.
The redhead looked at her with bored amusement, as if this were simply an easy way to make money off a tourist without even needing to rob them.
—If you're asking about the rules, they vary a lot. And no, I'm not interested in participating. If it doesn't pay, it's not worth my time.
—Fair enough. Even if I'm not here for the money.
Leo nodded while trying to unfold the paper, her left arm heavy and aching.
—Right. The whole honor, glory, and higher purpose speech. Got it. — The woman rolled her eyes. — Always the same disease. Only the uniform changes.
Then, finally, she turned toward Leo.
The dark glasses still hid part of her expression, but now Leonia could feel the weight of those golden eyes piercing through the lenses while the woman peeled off her disposable gloves.
—By the way… — she continued casually. — You should do something about that arm. If you can still call it an arm.
Leo raised her only functional arm, trying to rip part of her shirt to improvise a tourniquet.
The woman stopped her before she could.
—Here.
She held out clean bandages and a small canteen of water without ceremony.
—That should stop the bleeding long enough for you to find a healer.
—Thank you. — Leo accepted the items without hesitation.
A small pause followed.
Far too small for what came next.
—Or… — the woman added with genuinely unsettling casualness — I can help rip it off. That one's free.
Silence.
Leo stared at her for a second too long, trying to decide whether that was humor, a threat, or simply extreme pragmatism.
The worst part was that she genuinely couldn't tell.
—I think I'd rather keep it attached to me. — she answered, not wanting to imagine how exactly that woman would manage it.
Although, from the brief glimpse she'd already had, Leo could imagine several ways the woman might rip her arm off.
—Your choice.
The redhead shrugged indifferently.
She finished tying the leather sack containing the selected monster parts, then dragged the rest of the carcass onto a worn cloth and pulled it farther away from them without ever leaving Leo's field of vision.
Leo sat down and used some of the water to clean the wound. The liquid streamed crimson down her arm, revealing cuts far too deep to be reassuring. Still, when she moved her fingers and carefully forced the joint to bend, she realized the bone probably wasn't broken.
After drying the area as carefully as possible, she wrapped the bandages around the arm the best she could, improvising a decent enough immobilization until she could find someone who actually knew what they were doing.
With the remaining water, she washed blood, dirt, and sweat from her face.
Silently thankful her hair had been tied into several tight braids gathered into a single bun so she wouldn't have to deal with it now.
—From what I remember about the fixed rules of this trial, nobody's allowed to enter carrying weapons. — The redhead's voice broke the silence while she searched through her bag. — But nothing says you can't find one along the way.
She pulled something from inside the leather sack and tossed it several feet in front of Leo.
The audrean looked up at her before turning toward the object on the ground. She stood and walked over to it, finding an old rusted double-bladed axe with a wooden handle.
Honestly, it looked less like a weapon and more like an especially creative method of contracting tetanus.
She stared at it silently.
Part of her suspected the redhead was simply mocking her. Like tossing scraps to a dying dog just to see whether it still had enough strength to crawl after them.
Because in that condition, the thing could barely be called an axe.
The double blade was covered in rust stains, the wooden handle marked by ancient cracks and enough wear to reveal years — perhaps decades — of use.
And yet, there was something strange about it.
—That's "The Dog That Doesn't Bark."
The woman spoke with quiet pride while Leo held the weapon in her hands.
—It's old… but when I needed it most, it gave me a chance to survive. Now it's yours. So try not to die.
Leo raised her eyes toward her.
The redhead immediately pointed a finger.
—And you didn't get it from me. I discarded it. Whether you take it or not is your choice.
—Then why discard it near me? — Leo narrowed her eyes. — Are you helping me?
—I'm not helping. — The answer came quickly. — This entire thing is nothing more than a business transaction. I'm simply providing services for a client who looks desperate.
Client.
Leo almost laughed.
She was bloodied, mutilated, lost inside a cursed forest, holding an axe that looked capable of transmitting ancient diseases through physical contact alone, and she still had to complete a trial in this condition.
"Desperate" actually sounded pretty accurate.
The woman then slung the bag over her shoulder and started walking away.
—I didn't think to say this earlier, so… it was nice meeting you. My name is—
—Not yet.
The redhead interrupted her again.
This was becoming an irritating habit.
She only turned her face partially over her shoulder.
—Don't say your name while you're still here.
Leo frowned.
—Why?
—Because then I'll start believing I'll have to come back into this forest to retrieve my lucky axe from a corpse. — She adjusted the load on her back. — And after that I'll still need to find some friend or relative of yours so I can collect my thirty silver coins.
Thirty?
Since when had the price increased that much?
—Leonia Bellius. — she answered before the woman could interrupt her again. — And whether it's your superstition or not, I'm not leaving this place as a corpse. And I'm definitely not the type of person who leaves debts unpaid.
She rested the axe against the ground for a moment.
—So how am I supposed to find you afterward? Can you at least tell me your name?
The woman stayed silent for a few seconds.
The wind slipped through the twisted trees of the forest, moving loose strands of red hair from her messy bun.
Then, finally:
—You don't need to worry, Bellius. Wherever you are, alive or dead, I'll find you. That's a hunter's promise to a future mercenary.
The voice sounded far too calm for someone saying something that threatening.
The red-haired silhouette gradually disappeared between the twisted trees, swallowed by fog, branches, and the exaggerated colors of that place as though she had never truly been there at all.
And somehow, unbelievably enough, it sounded less like a threat than it should have.
Leo let out a faint sideways smile.
That woman was completely insane.
Resting the old axe between her feet, she unfolded the crumpled paper in her hands once more, finally ready to discover what her next steps would be if she wanted to leave that forest alive.
And after that…
Pay off a debt of thirty silver coins.