Bahamut tugged at the rough tunic again, feeling the coarse texture scrape against his skin. It was far from comfortable, but it was clothing. He turned slightly to admire his handiwork in the river's reflection, scars twisting across his bare arms, fox hide draped crudely around him. Savage. Barbaric. Feral.
"...Hahaha... you really do look like a cave-beast..."
The words drifted faintly, almost like a whisper carried on the breeze. Bahamut froze, his body stiffening, his breath caught. His head snapped around, scanning the clearing. Nothing. The bunny lay unmoving in the shade, its body slack and eyes shut tight.
His pulse quickened. It had been nearly a week since Ren fell into that strange unconscious state after the battle. There had been no stirrings, no sarcastic remarks, no manic laughter echoing in his head. And yet—
"You're checking yourself out in the water? Hahaha... savage fashion suits you. Cave man chic, Bahamut... fits you too well..."
Bahamut's jaw tightened, shock giving way to a bitter scowl. He clicked his tongue loudly in irritation, turning his gaze back to the stream.
"Tch. Figures the first thing you say after almost a week is this," he muttered, dragging a hand through his damp hair. "Mocking me, like always."
The voice chuckled weakly in the back of his mind, faint and tired but undeniably Ren's. "What can I say... if the fox pelt fits... wear it."
Bahamut growled under his breath, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in spite of himself.
The chuckle faded, swallowed by silence, and for a heartbeat Bahamut thought he had imagined it all. Then came a ragged exhale, thin and brittle, like glass cracking under strain.
"...damn... that took... more out of me than I thought..."
The mocking tone had thinned to a frail murmur. Ren's voice trembled, and Bahamut's eyes widened, the annoyance draining from him.
"Ren?!" His voice dropped, sharp and urgent. He crouched beside the bunny's limp form, his hand hovering but not touching.
The bunny twitched faintly, ears giving a pitiful flick before going still again.
[Warning!]
The system's screen flared before him.
[The follower's soul is in a fragile state. Forcing consciousness or speech strains its foundation. The voice you heard was a projection, not stability.]
Bahamut's teeth clenched. "So his mocking cost him?"
[Affirmative. If the follower continues to exert himself prematurely, his soul could unravel. The host must ensure rest and stabilization.]
Bahamut cursed under his breath, the weight in his chest heavier than the fox hide draped on his shoulders. He looked down at Ren's form—mocking grin now gone, his body utterly still.
"Tch... stupid bastard," he muttered, though softer now, almost protective. "Even half-dead, you just had to make fun of me."
The stream rippled beside him, catching his reflection again: bloodstained, scarred, draped in savage clothing. He almost heard the echo of Ren's earlier jab—cave-beast—and couldn't help but snort in grim amusement.
"Rest, Ren. Next time you wake up... you'd better save that tongue of yours. I'll be needing it."
The system dimmed, leaving him alone with the sound of rushing water and Ren's faint, steady breathing.
...
The silence weighed heavy, broken only by Ren's shallow breaths.
Then the system flared again, jagged lines of red and pale-blue text scattering like fractured glass.
[Opening Follower Status…]
Follower: Ren – Chaos Bunny
Condition: Comatose
Vital Signs: Unstable
Soul Integrity: 42% ⬇ (Degrading)
Projection: 3% Capacity Remaining
Physical State: Locked
Awakening Path: [Pending Host Tier Progression]
[Warning!]Soul decay rate increasing.Next projection attempt may result in permanent collapse.
Stabilization Method:
Host must reach Tier 1: Circle of Spirit
Host's Soul Reserves will automatically bind and strengthen Follower's tether.
Failure to progress = Follower Termination.
The lines flickered, distorted, as if the system itself struggled to maintain the display. One final message pulsed through:
[The Follower is tied to you. Your growth is his only lifeline.]
Bahamut's jaw clenched, his claws digging into the dirt beside Ren's still body.
"…So that's it. You live if I climb. You die if I stop."
His reflection on the water's surface—scarred, hide-clad, primal—stared back at him. Ren's earlier words—cave-beast—echoed in his ears, but now they weren't mockery. They were a reminder.
Bahamut rose to his feet, the weight of the fox-hide cloak pressing on his shoulders. His blind grey eyes hardened.
"Fine. I'll tear through every beast between here and the sky if that's what it takes. Just… don't vanish on me, rabbit."
The system dimmed, leaving only the whisper of Ren's fragile breathing behind.