Dante's eyes slowly opened once more. His mind spun, and countless shapes of beings seemed to dance before his vision.
Fragments of memory showed him the battle and the clash of the beasts. The pain coursing through his body was excruciating, keeping him from losing the faint consciousness that had just returned.
He could feel that he was broken — not psychologically, but physically shattered. His bones felt crushed; trees and branches seemed to rest heavily upon his battered body.
What had happened? Dante couldn't recall precisely — only the collision between the beasts and his frail body being hurled away.
"Haha…"
As that thought came to him, a small laugh escaped. When he had knocked out the mottled ram, the surge of power that filled him had been terrifying — yet now he understood how weak he truly was.
"Should I eat the Calactus Flower?" he suddenly wondered. Eating it now would be the same as admitting defeat.
His hand moved toward the pouch still firmly strapped to his body. With a thought, he touched it, and a small vial appeared. Dante lifted it and let a few tiny pellets fall into his mouth.
They were false elixirs — pills that had not yet reached level one, known as Blood Replenishment Pills. As soon as he chewed and swallowed them, a warm sensation spread through his body, bringing slight relief.
"Ahhh…"
A sigh of relief left his lips as he pushed aside the trunk that lay over his left arm.
With his strength, it wasn't difficult to move it, but what he saw next made him grit his teeth: the arm was fractured — clearly broken — and would likely prevent him from wielding his weapons.
"Damn it… if that damned rhinoceros hadn't—" Dante stopped muttering, realizing there was no point in complaining.
Looking around, he noticed it was almost night — the sun was setting. Quickly, he put the pieces together: he had been unconscious for roughly six or seven hours.
The hunt had begun at sunrise. He had spent about five hours preparing, and now dusk was upon him. It wasn't hard to guess that he had been involved in the hunt for eleven to twelve hours already.
Dante began running in the direction where the sun was setting. Strangely, the sun seemed to sink toward the south — meaning he was heading back to where he had come from.
Along the way, the marks of battle were clear: blood and destruction covered the land. Fallen trees and scarlet stains stretched along the path.
His senses were on high alert, wary of any danger. Luckily, the earlier fight seemed to have driven off the lesser beasts.
He advanced for several minutes until he found what appeared to be a cave. Entering, he used a stone to block the entrance and sat down to recover and think.
As soon as he relaxed, the pain returned with intensity. Even breathing made him groan.
His thoughts drifted for a few seconds before his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.
Hours passed until a ray of sunlight pierced through a crack in the massive stone blocking the entrance, illuminating Dante's pale and weary face. Under its light, his eyes slowly opened.
As he woke, his dire condition didn't escape his notice. He had likely lost a great deal of blood. One arm broken, his body mutilated and battered — it was a miracle he was still alive.
"Wonderful," Dante muttered, leaning his back against the wall of the cave.
He raised his right hand calmly and touched the dimensional pouch. Fixing his arm should be his top priority.
Four pseudo-spiritual arrows appeared, along with the skins of two snakes he had slain earlier.
He would use these items to make a makeshift splint — not too difficult: he only needed to remove the sharp heads of the arrows, place them along four points of the arm, and use the snake skins as bindings.
It would be enough... for now.
Using the last of his strength, he pushed the stone from the entrance and marched south, toward the swamp — in search of water and food.
The swamp wasn't far, and since snakes tended to stay in the trees, that would make things easier.
Dante ran for about an hour. His speed had lessened due to his broken arm and exhaustion; his footing was unstable, demanding greater effort.
The lake remained untouched — as though the beasts' clash hadn't disturbed it. That was fortunate for Dante, who decided to approach carefully.
Splash.
As he crouched by the shore, a jet of water splashed against him — but nothing emerged.
It happened again, and again. There was no killing intent, only something… playful. Irritated, Dante ignored it and bent down to drink.
The taste of the water was masked by earth and soot, but it still satisfied him.
While he drank, the jets of water continued to hit him, yet they no longer bothered him.
Within the lake, a small serpent-like creature watched him silently. It was the one splashing water at him and seemed amused — its eyes gleamed each time it struck the surface, making tiny circles in delight.
When it saw Dante begin to walk away, the creature started wagging its tail frantically before leaping out of the water.
It no longer wanted to be alone.
As Dante was about to leave, the sound of the water stirring made him stop. A small snake burst into the air, staring directly at him.
Instinctively, a spear appeared in his right hand, ready to strike. But when their eyes met, Dante hesitated.
The small serpent's eyes held no hostility, nor fear — only a deep and strange loneliness.